No one had walked away from that period of confusion and misdirected fury with clean hands. Some lashed out at each other, others came to blows, and then in the aftermath as a community they’d still been fractured and contentious and unsure of their neighbors. It had been too much for Crozier, who had been barely able to breathe for weeks after it was all said and done. He couldn’t handle the injures and the knowledge that history seemed to be repeating itself; it was far too painful.
Letting down his men once had destroyed him, but a second time? A second time would erase completely what remained of him, that compassion he’d come to find, that hope and optimism he has even now. He fears it’s already coming to pass though, especially after the events of the town hall, and he’s too cowardly now to make another attempt to unite them.
Maybe it’s for the best. His confrontation with Edward had been harsh, but in the weeks after, stewing about in his brain and replayed over and over, not entirely unenlightening. Some of those accusations leveled at him had been entirely true. He’d asked too much of a man he’d all but ignored the first few years of the expedition - and he’d come to ruin because of it.
It’s quiet in the area around his cabin, save for some of the bird calls in the trees and the sounds of branches snapping under the weight of ice. The sun is still out, and he takes advantage of it by sitting on a bare rock with his journal resting on his lap. Chores are all well and good, but so’s a rest now and again. Taking in the life around him, the sunlight, the trees, the crunch of snow underfoot.
He raises his head quickly at said sound, expression softening when he sees him.
no subject
No one had walked away from that period of confusion and misdirected fury with clean hands. Some lashed out at each other, others came to blows, and then in the aftermath as a community they’d still been fractured and contentious and unsure of their neighbors. It had been too much for Crozier, who had been barely able to breathe for weeks after it was all said and done. He couldn’t handle the injures and the knowledge that history seemed to be repeating itself; it was far too painful.
Letting down his men once had destroyed him, but a second time? A second time would erase completely what remained of him, that compassion he’d come to find, that hope and optimism he has even now. He fears it’s already coming to pass though, especially after the events of the town hall, and he’s too cowardly now to make another attempt to unite them.
Maybe it’s for the best. His confrontation with Edward had been harsh, but in the weeks after, stewing about in his brain and replayed over and over, not entirely unenlightening. Some of those accusations leveled at him had been entirely true. He’d asked too much of a man he’d all but ignored the first few years of the expedition - and he’d come to ruin because of it.
It’s quiet in the area around his cabin, save for some of the bird calls in the trees and the sounds of branches snapping under the weight of ice. The sun is still out, and he takes advantage of it by sitting on a bare rock with his journal resting on his lap. Chores are all well and good, but so’s a rest now and again. Taking in the life around him, the sunlight, the trees, the crunch of snow underfoot.
He raises his head quickly at said sound, expression softening when he sees him.
“Edward. What are you doing out here?”