[It takes some moments for Kratos's vision to clear. He keeps walking blind; it's slow enough that he can manage, and the dragging limp is straight-forward enough, if inefficient. But because of that, it isn't until the chain jingles on being passed over that Kratos realises Yuan is standing in front of him.
[Kratos can't manage to stand tall. Not now. But he doesn't need energy to keep his face blank, not anymore; and he does lift his chin a little, not exactly meeting Yuan's gaze but not precisely cowed, either. It's enough for him to see Yuan whole, to try and read Yuan's bearing.
[It occurs that Kratos has never seen Yuan -- Master Ka-Fai now, isn't it? -- he's never seen Ka-Fai so still. It's the first time he's had the chance for an examination; usually, Ka-Fai moves so fast and whirling that all Kratos can manage is glimpses of his face, burning with impassioned determination. Seeing him standing still is like settling for a flat image of a bird in flight instead of watching one dart and play in real life.
[And Ka-Fai has asked a question, one Kratos is obliged to answer, even though he's barely spoken in weeks. Even if it seems a stupid question.]
... Not well.
[Stupid or not, Kratos's voice is neutral enough, if hoarse from disuse. His leg is already aching. It'd be easier if he had something to lean on, but the guards haven't bothered to be so generous.
[... It occurs, also, that some degree of respect is probably expected here. Commander, or 'sir', at the very least. Master, maybe. Kratos can't quite muster any of them. He might regret that, later, but he doesn't have the strength to pretend he wasn't what he was. Ka-Fai knows the rank he held well enough.]
no subject
[Kratos can't manage to stand tall. Not now. But he doesn't need energy to keep his face blank, not anymore; and he does lift his chin a little, not exactly meeting Yuan's gaze but not precisely cowed, either. It's enough for him to see Yuan whole, to try and read Yuan's bearing.
[It occurs that Kratos has never seen Yuan -- Master Ka-Fai now, isn't it? -- he's never seen Ka-Fai so still. It's the first time he's had the chance for an examination; usually, Ka-Fai moves so fast and whirling that all Kratos can manage is glimpses of his face, burning with impassioned determination. Seeing him standing still is like settling for a flat image of a bird in flight instead of watching one dart and play in real life.
[And Ka-Fai has asked a question, one Kratos is obliged to answer, even though he's barely spoken in weeks. Even if it seems a stupid question.]
... Not well.
[Stupid or not, Kratos's voice is neutral enough, if hoarse from disuse. His leg is already aching. It'd be easier if he had something to lean on, but the guards haven't bothered to be so generous.
[... It occurs, also, that some degree of respect is probably expected here. Commander, or 'sir', at the very least. Master, maybe. Kratos can't quite muster any of them. He might regret that, later, but he doesn't have the strength to pretend he wasn't what he was. Ka-Fai knows the rank he held well enough.]