“I,” Byleth tries to find the words of what he wants, this feeling inside of him that never completely goes away when he’s with Linhardt. It’s not the kind of feeling that comes with victory; it’s not heightened emotions of joy or the roars of the crowd. It’s butterbeer light on his tongue, a quiet kind of realization, the opening of eyes upon waking and the steady warmth of sunlight.
“我,”拜勒斯试图找到他想要的话,这种感觉在他心里永远不会完全消失,当他与林哈尔特。它不是那种伴随着胜利而来的感觉; 它不是高涨的喜悦情绪或人群的咆哮。他的舌头上有黄油啤酒般的光芒,一种安静的领悟,醒来时睁开的眼睛和阳光的稳定温暖。
😭我草,写太好了
“没关系。我只是很抱歉我们不得不用你的房间学习每个月的这个时候,图书馆和所有的公共休息室总是人满为患,拜勒斯不想在大厅里学习,因为在大厅里学习的学生和没有学习的学生一样多。
hhhhhhhh
“My own mother died when I was little,” Byleth says.
“我自己的母亲在我很小的时候就去世了,”拜勒斯说。
“Do you miss her?” “你想她吗?”
“I miss what I could’ve had. I don’t miss her in a concrete way, but more like how a person who has only seen a lake imagines an ocean, or maybe how a desert learns to live without water.”
我想念我本可以拥有的一切。我对她的思念不是具体的,而更像是一个只见过湖泊的人对海洋的想象,或者是一个沙漠如何学会在没有水的情况下生存。”
……omg
涌现出的是你我共同的回忆