[Yona is here. Yona is here, he looked for her and he couldn't find her, he looked and looked, where was she when he was looking? He failed. He looked in the wrong places. How long has she been alone, who is she with, who is protecting her in his absence?]
[He's struck with a stab of emotion too complex to put a name to, too many things mashed together to simplify into one or two or three things, tied together with a single but prominent thread of guilt. Whether he meant to or not, he abandoned her — the one thing he swore never to do. Intent doesn't matter; action does. She has been alone. Alone.]
[But he can't show her his panic. He can tell just from her tone that she's upset, and when he looks at the screen again it's clear she's close to tears. Another reason to be grateful for the voice function — she couldn't see the look that crossed his face when she first spoke, in all of its complexity.]
[He has to be stone. And he can. As long as she can't see his face, he can be solid and dependable, at least for a little while.]
It's me.
[His lips part to form the word princess, but he hesitates. She's prudent, and she did say his name, but it's better to be safe. He closes his mouth, pauses, then tries again.]
no subject
[Yona is here. Yona is here, he looked for her and he couldn't find her, he looked and looked, where was she when he was looking? He failed. He looked in the wrong places. How long has she been alone, who is she with, who is protecting her in his absence?]
[He's struck with a stab of emotion too complex to put a name to, too many things mashed together to simplify into one or two or three things, tied together with a single but prominent thread of guilt. Whether he meant to or not, he abandoned her — the one thing he swore never to do. Intent doesn't matter; action does. She has been alone. Alone.]
[But he can't show her his panic. He can tell just from her tone that she's upset, and when he looks at the screen again it's clear she's close to tears. Another reason to be grateful for the voice function — she couldn't see the look that crossed his face when she first spoke, in all of its complexity.]
[He has to be stone. And he can. As long as she can't see his face, he can be solid and dependable, at least for a little while.]
It's me.
[His lips part to form the word princess, but he hesitates. She's prudent, and she did say his name, but it's better to be safe. He closes his mouth, pauses, then tries again.]
Not like this. Tell me where you are.