disclaimer: this is about taron egerton's character in testament of youth, edward brittain. edward's character being based on the real edward brittain, i suggest you check out vera brittain's story for further informations. it is also important that i tell you that edward was gay, especially since it might have played a part in his death in the war, homosexuality not being accepted back in the 1910s. may edward's tragic story remind us to make acceptance and peace win over war and hatred
in this blurb, edward survives the war
:･ﾟ✧
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November, 1918
"Vera."
Taking his service cap off, Edward's first impulse is to rush at his sister, straight into her arms. Her clenched grip on his back, her longing words against his ear; she has saved him, back in France, he knows it, he remembers. She had played him music, the one he had asked her to take care of. How could he have gone through all of this without her?
"It's over now," she keeps repeating in whispers, cupping his face in her hands and looking him in the eyes as he nods painfully. Her fingers, calloused from the war endeavour she had taken upon herself, wipe the uncontrollable falling tears away from his face.
His mother then takes him away from her, pulling him in a tight hug which even his father allows himself to reproduce. "I'm proud of you, son." The man recalls in a flash his son's departure, the way he had broken down in front of the timetables at the train station under Vera's eyes, abandoning all dignity and pride to the fear of sending Edward out to death. War, it hadn't been what all of these young men believed it to be; beliefs which now lie among their dismembered corpses on the soil of France, where the wind brushes the deadened ground.
"I'll make some tea," Mrs Brittain declares comfortingly, rubbing her son's shoulder. "You must be exhausted, Edward."
"Thank you, mom."
Vera takes him by the arm, caressing his cheek with the back of her free hand, and gives him a moved smile, scattered memories of everything they had gone through together surely coming to mind. Her little brother, all grown up, home from the Great War. "You're home now."
"I know," he murmurs, following the statement by a tender kiss on the cheek, trying to shake off his own tangled feelings to concentrate on his sister, who hadn't lost any less than him in the course of these last four years. "How are you?"
"I'm glad you're back," she answers heartfeltly, leading him to the kitchen. But he knows how much she suffered, how many sleepless nights she carried on her back, how much dried blood and how many screams from the wounded she had tried to help still haunted her.
