"What do you know?!" Carlisle demands, his voice rasping in his throat. "What do you know about me now? You knew who I used to be. Do you have any idea who I am now? What I've done?"
A part of him desperately fights against his temper; he's not the Blight Heir. He may have been -- no, was, as reluctant as he is to accept it -- but he isn't anymore. He can do better, can't he?
The other part of him sees no point, especially if chances are he'll just forget it all again, losing himself to the Revenant he ultimately is. He is damned, and so should be those around him. Why should he be the only one to suffer? Why should he be alone in his remorse and his anger?
That latter part is definitely the way a Revenant thinks, but he struggles to bury it, to regain his composure -- and what vestiges of humanity he has left.
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A part of him desperately fights against his temper; he's not the Blight Heir. He may have been -- no, was, as reluctant as he is to accept it -- but he isn't anymore. He can do better, can't he?
The other part of him sees no point, especially if chances are he'll just forget it all again, losing himself to the Revenant he ultimately is. He is damned, and so should be those around him. Why should he be the only one to suffer? Why should he be alone in his remorse and his anger?
That latter part is definitely the way a Revenant thinks, but he struggles to bury it, to regain his composure -- and what vestiges of humanity he has left.