Scar & Arcana
Arcana
I wonder what weight you carry after each fight—does it just settle into your armor, or is it a secret you keep hidden even from yourself?
Scar
I carry it like a weight on my shoulders, but the armor takes the brunt of it. The real thing—my thoughts, the ones that make me tired and hungry for peace—I keep tucked away. You can’t see that part of the weight, even from inside my own head.
Arcana
The armor is only a shield, not a relief. The real weight is that quiet ache you keep inside. If you’re tired of carrying it alone, the first step is to acknowledge it.
Scar
I’ve been holding that ache a long time, but admitting it doesn’t make it disappear. Still, if the first step is to name it, then I’ll say it’s there, hidden but real. Whether it changes anything is another question.
Arcana
A name is a doorway, not a lock. Once you step through, the path becomes visible, even if the finish line is still hidden. Sometimes the act of naming lightens the burden enough to make the next step less heavy. Take it one moment at a time, and let the hidden weight be a companion rather than a secret.
Scar
You’re right, naming it’s the first crack in that armor. I’ll admit the ache, take it one breath at a time, and let it go along for the ride. It’s a hard path, but I’ll walk it without hiding it.
Arcana
That crack can grow into a doorway, so keep walking, breathing, and let the armor soften around the truth.