#it's... been a while.

"I have."

"That's all queued stuff. You haven't written anything of yourself for a while."

"... No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"... It's not a good time to be a writer."

"It's the best time to be a writer."

"How so?"

"You're worried that no one is reading, right? That means you don't have to live up to anyone's standards. You can just go off, and it doesn't matter."

"... You hear the problem in your solution, right? No one is reading."

"I'm reading."

"... I'm dreaming."

"Those two statements can be true simultaneously."

"... I don't know if I can write again. I've tried. I've been trying for the past two years."

"Try again. If you can't write anything refined, then write bullshit. Once the flow starts, it will clean out the channel as it goes. Let the stagnancy come out."

"No one wants to read stagnant bullshit."

"You are on the bullshit dot com website and you dare to say that with your entire being."

"... Point. ... Okay. I'll try. But I don't know where to start."

"Start with this dream. Let the words leak a little. Don't clean it up. To hell with the scene dressing. Just go."

"Okay... but I have a request of my own."

"What's that?"

"What's your handle, Traveler?"

❛ . . . ❜ Impactful words echoed cranial walls; expression remained stoic. De facto, there was understanding within said words, yet the individual that expressed them managed to catch him off guard. Interactions between them were nonexistent almost -- barely during the gargantuan spectacle of the Grand Magic Games. And yet the element of surprise had taken its place ( albeit the austerity still depicted upon his face ) And yet, they had something in common. A paternal figure looming like a shadow upon them. Oh, how much he abhors being referred as ' Makarov's grandson '. Perhaps something similar applies to her? Who knows. ❛ You too. You are not your father, nor just ' Guildmaster's daughter '. ❜

part of her wants to laugh, emerald gaze shifting away towards the glass of wine she was swirling around absently. sure, he may come closest amongst the fairies to actually understanding her position, but he didn't know her. the old man, as foolish as he seemed to her, probably didn't have nearly as strong a belief in strength as her father did. and that made all the difference in how the two had turned out.

he was the pride of his guild, she the monster of hers.