That question is a tough one, but he does know the answer. It is not because of Zodiark that he could not love her, but he supposes it's possible that could also be the case. He hesitates to answer, letting Tyler finish his thoughts before jumping in to defend Zodiark, to dismiss the notion outright. However, he's surprised by the latter half of what Tyler says to him.
'Such moving empathy. It's as if you wore the feathers yourself.' Hythlodaeus' words ring in his mind as he considers Tyler's own. While he would be quick to deny such, or at least dismiss it, he knew well that his empathy was untouched by his tempering. That ever was he at the mercy of it. That it both has helped and harmed him in equal measure.
It's why he can mingle so well with the mortals, why he can connect to them, why he can befriend them...why he can mislead them, manipulate them, and bring about their ruin...much at the cost of his own suffering.
After a moment of looking away from Tyler for a time, contemplating his thoughts and feelings...
...I suppose you may be right. Perhaps my empathy has indeed stayed intact, but I cannot say that I loved her. Cared for her, I suppose, but I have never loved a woman, and I do not believe I could—and that has little to do with Lord Zodiark.
Even as he says that, he does not happy to admit as much. Not that he has a problem admitting that he's attracted to men, that much is fairly obvious to...well, anyone, but rather there's guilt there. Guilt that the woman who bore the boys he loved so did not bask in his affection the same way.
But I doubtlessly loved my sons.
He gets that much out, but the burn of tears in his eyes becomes a bit too much. Turning away from Tyler, he brings a hand to his face. Covering a good portion of it as he tries to stay his mourning, tries to keep from this embarrassing display of emotion. It's less that he's ashamed of having emotions or expressing grief...it just feels inappropriate here. Inappropriate before Tyler.
How long has it been since he's openly wept in front of someone like this? Eons, he'd wager. Perhaps not since after the Sundering, when he, Lahabrea, and Elidibus beheld their broken home. Their foolish and frail brethren—robbed of their memories, robbed of everything that had made them who they were. It was then that he knew deepest despair, and it was then that he had wept so hard and so brokenly.
Yet here he is, barely holding it together over the loss of a few mortals—his son in particular. It's ridiculous that he would be so stricken by the loss. These mortals, that in the grand scheme of things should not matter. Yet they do. Yet he did.
He had lost him first, and then he lost his wife... Titus, his youngest, had outlived "Solus", but so too would he lose him. Killed by his grandson for the throne of Garlemald, who then was recently killed by his son, by Estinien's account.
...Oh how his heart aches.
After a moment to attempt to compose himself, he finally removes his hand from his face, blinking back the threat of tears as he signs, my apologies...
no subject
'Such moving empathy. It's as if you wore the feathers yourself.' Hythlodaeus' words ring in his mind as he considers Tyler's own. While he would be quick to deny such, or at least dismiss it, he knew well that his empathy was untouched by his tempering. That ever was he at the mercy of it. That it both has helped and harmed him in equal measure.
It's why he can mingle so well with the mortals, why he can connect to them, why he can befriend them...why he can mislead them, manipulate them, and bring about their ruin...much at the cost of his own suffering.
After a moment of looking away from Tyler for a time, contemplating his thoughts and feelings...
...I suppose you may be right. Perhaps my empathy has indeed stayed intact, but I cannot say that I loved her. Cared for her, I suppose, but I have never loved a woman, and I do not believe I could—and that has little to do with Lord Zodiark.
Even as he says that, he does not happy to admit as much. Not that he has a problem admitting that he's attracted to men, that much is fairly obvious to...well, anyone, but rather there's guilt there. Guilt that the woman who bore the boys he loved so did not bask in his affection the same way.
But I doubtlessly loved my sons.
He gets that much out, but the burn of tears in his eyes becomes a bit too much. Turning away from Tyler, he brings a hand to his face. Covering a good portion of it as he tries to stay his mourning, tries to keep from this embarrassing display of emotion. It's less that he's ashamed of having emotions or expressing grief...it just feels inappropriate here. Inappropriate before Tyler.
How long has it been since he's openly wept in front of someone like this? Eons, he'd wager. Perhaps not since after the Sundering, when he, Lahabrea, and Elidibus beheld their broken home. Their foolish and frail brethren—robbed of their memories, robbed of everything that had made them who they were. It was then that he knew deepest despair, and it was then that he had wept so hard and so brokenly.
Yet here he is, barely holding it together over the loss of a few mortals—his son in particular. It's ridiculous that he would be so stricken by the loss. These mortals, that in the grand scheme of things should not matter. Yet they do. Yet he did.
He had lost him first, and then he lost his wife... Titus, his youngest, had outlived "Solus", but so too would he lose him. Killed by his grandson for the throne of Garlemald, who then was recently killed by his son, by Estinien's account.
...Oh how his heart aches.
After a moment to attempt to compose himself, he finally removes his hand from his face, blinking back the threat of tears as he signs, my apologies...