For another moment, Carlisle can't help but continue to stare at the portrait; he used to see it every day, work at the desk beneath it on his sermons, nap on the couch on the far side of the room with his back turned to it. It loomed over him for years, reminding him of those he'd lost, those whose shoes he was expected to fill. He hasn't seen it in what feels like an age, and yet, it stares back at him just as he remembers it. He's taken aback more than he thought he would be upon seeing their faces again. Despite their warm expressions, he feels his uncles' judgment; he certainly feels his father's, the guilt hitting him as though his father were there before him, disapproving of what happened to their legacy, to Bear Den, and to Carlisle himself.
The silence lasts longer than is comfortable, and Carlisle opens his mouth to banish it, only to hold his tongue as Qubit steps forward. His companion leans on the frame of the door as though drawn toward the painting, and the clergyman's eyes hit the floor in turn, his nerves getting the better of him as his mind turns over what could be going on in Qubit's mind at that very moment. He's just now getting to put faces to the names he's heard so much about, seeing as close to the flesh as he ever will the giants within whose shadows Carlisle was constantly, eternally trapped. Is he finally coming to understand what heroes they were, and how the Longinmouth heir himself could never compare? Or is he fixated on the younger version of Carlisle in the painting, an individual still so full of promise, value, and life?
And is Qubit thinking what a travesty it is that none of that remains in the Revenant he is now?
Carlisle clears his throat reflexively; though he truly hasn't anything to say, he tries not to linger on those poisonous thoughts any longer than he has to. "My, ah. Uncles." He says that as though its an introduction; it may as well be. "And my father. And me, obviously."
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The silence lasts longer than is comfortable, and Carlisle opens his mouth to banish it, only to hold his tongue as Qubit steps forward. His companion leans on the frame of the door as though drawn toward the painting, and the clergyman's eyes hit the floor in turn, his nerves getting the better of him as his mind turns over what could be going on in Qubit's mind at that very moment. He's just now getting to put faces to the names he's heard so much about, seeing as close to the flesh as he ever will the giants within whose shadows Carlisle was constantly, eternally trapped. Is he finally coming to understand what heroes they were, and how the Longinmouth heir himself could never compare? Or is he fixated on the younger version of Carlisle in the painting, an individual still so full of promise, value, and life?
And is Qubit thinking what a travesty it is that none of that remains in the Revenant he is now?
Carlisle clears his throat reflexively; though he truly hasn't anything to say, he tries not to linger on those poisonous thoughts any longer than he has to. "My, ah. Uncles." He says that as though its an introduction; it may as well be. "And my father. And me, obviously."