#irregularisms

Diana gave a small shake of her head, dark hair falling about her shoulders, “People are not broken,” she said, voice warm. “People are never broken. Hurt sometimes. But never broken,” she said. It was something she firmly believed in, something she had always believed in. “The gods didn’t send me to repair a broken world, they sent me to help guide people towards a new path. They believe you aren’t broken, the gods believe in people so much. You should believe in yourself along with them.” 

“The monastery is grand,” Byleth agreed, looking out across what functioned as a meeting room for the war. Long tables, plush carpets. Bright windows filtering the light in. Enough high backed seats for each one of their allies. And this was five years after the war began. This was when half the monastery was in ruins. “I’ve always felt a little out of place here though,” she said. And why not? Her whole life had been spent on roads, in inns, she had never been inside some place so grand until she had been offered a chance to teach here. 

Buffy turned to look at him, planting her hands on both hips. “I don’t know if anyone has pointed this out to you yet, but you’re much taller than I am,” she said, gesturing to their height difference. He wasn’t the tallest guy she’d ever been around but as short as she was, he still had a solid ten inches on her. “If I carry you, you might drag on the ground.”