[Coming in at the same time is the last resident, only she didn't come alone. Her mirror decided to spit out her gaelkitten, who was sleeping in her arms and she naturally had to go grab the poor thing before she decided to wander away. Mira's about to speak up as she enters the living room until she hears nothing but silence at first. And then Irhya speaks up, making Mira take a closer look.
And seeing Emet holding a crystal in his hand, it's as if a wave of the coldest water has hit harshly. Bonds are still a damn new thing and that same sensation would flow on her end as well. It's enough that her eyes widen at the object but no words came out of the hyur. However, her expression says it all:
[When Irhya arrives, it barely gets a glance of acknowledgement, and the Ascian responds to her 'greeting' with little more than a snort.
But when that wave of emotion hits, he can't help but wince, attention snapping to the miqo'te, fixing her with an offended look, as though she'd done that on purpose. It takes a moment more for that feeling to really register- and that, mixed with the expression on her face has him go still, unsure if that sense of dread creeping up was his, or Irhya's.
Something was very wrong.
In the middle of that awareness, Mira's entrance barely registers- until he's hit with another, similar rush of horror. And then he looks up to her as well- finding Irhya's expression echoed there too. This also nets Mira a scowl that's more alarm than anything, his eyes flickering between them for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had set all this off.
Or rather, why, as it seemed to be centered around this dark crystal. It would've been exasperating if it weren't also deeply worrying. Without yet moving from where he's stretched out, his gaze returns back to Irhya and her question.]
...Apparently it came from my mirror. It's yet unknown to me- but perhaps not to you?
[Irhya makes a throttled noise in the back of her throat, then sighs wearily, resting her head on the couch's back.]
...It's you. Or what was left of you, anyway.
[The addendum is made immediately after as she realizes her initial statement is not very clear. The strong pulse of emotion may have passed, but there's an unrest about her that can be observed without the need for a link.]
The auracite we used to destroy you. That is... a cruel joke, if it is one.
[She can feel her legs get weak and she has to sit down, setting the gaelkitten to the corner of the couch as her eyes do not leave the piece of stone. The mirrors have a twisted sense of humor and Mira can only nod to confirm, keeping her hands on her lap and trying not to sink her nails into the fabric of her trousers.]
[When he'd learned of his death, Emet-Selch knew, implicitly, the means that must've been taken to destroy him. But he'd never dwelled on that aspect, it had felt the least important part, when compared to everything else. He'd been killed, his work left unfinished; why would he think about the state of his corpse?
Slowly, the Ascian drags his legs down from the end of the couch, sitting up heavily. The idle grip in which he'd been holding the crystal becomes somewhat more ginger- as though it would suddenly break further, as if he could barely stand to touch it, yet was reluctant to put it down.
It was entirely different to hold a physical relic of those means. After being weakened, his soul must have been imprisoned in auracite, then shattered before he could break free. An impossible feat, yet they had managed it.
This was his fate. After everything- this would be the only thing left of him. Pieces. Fragments. More broken than any of the sundered races.]
I see you were thorough.
[Soft, almost toneless. Rather than a rush of emotion, there's a slow creep of it- an inexorable drift towards despair, the tide rising so evenly you don't notice until you've already drowned.]
[For once in her life, Irhya is bereft of a smart comment. And so she sits there in concerned silence for a while, racking her brain for something, anything, she can say to cut through it.
She opens her mouth to speak, closes it; tries again, this time with more surety.]
...Hades.
[She'd originally intended to keep the fact she knew his real name to herself, but it just feels like one of those moments where the revelation is more grounding than not.]
You are still the hero of your people. Little though it must mean coming from me, I really believe that.
[Better that than nothing. Mira can't help but look back at when they spoke out it during the mist, recalling her words: "I had done a great and terrible thing."]
While I know we could never agree on the hows, there are not many who would do so much for those they hold dear.
[To bleed for their people, to comfort them, to save them. But what else could she say? There is no comforting matters such as death and the one who brings it.]
[The unexpected sound of his name pulls his attention back to Irhya. He wasn't surprised that she knew it- if he'd given it to one of the Warriors before their last battle, he'd presumably given it to them all- and nor was he displeased to hear it. It was a deeply personal thing, but... if they didn't have the right to use it, then who did?
But even as his name was grounding, the words brought more of a mixed feeling, and he looks down to the auracite in his hand again, turning it over slowly. There wasn't much comfort in their words- the kindness dispensed from the victors to their defeated foe- but he couldn't manage to scorn it either. He knew it was sincere.]
...We did our duty, all of us.
[Sighing finally, Emet-Selch leans forward to place the crystal on the table in front of him, before sitting back. He couldn't sense, nor see his own soul any longer; it was... certainly a feeling to have this broken fragment be the only record of its existence.]
I suppose this means that I cannot avoid it after all. This fate.
That, I don't know. There's no evidence that we will or won't return home knowing what we know now.
[He had every variable accounted for, after all... except for one. So long as no one opens their mouth to him about it, she's inclined to think even prior knowledge of the outcome won't change much. It feels deceptive, but it's a part of their little game she can't afford to have turned around on some other poor Warrior of Light.]
Death is never an easy thing to deal with. Much less for an immortal, for whom it does not come naturally. But... that has ever been your greatest problem, hasn't it?
Mmm, there's always something unknown out there. Being here for only a short amount of time, there's too much we do not know about.
[Just what exactly is this magic affecting this world other than 'dark magic' and its nature? What's deeper lurking beyond the surface? It can't be simply what the Coven says, right? Maybe it's because of all the deception (and not fully trusting Urianger) that Mira feels unsure about trusting most matters at face value.
Oddly enough, Irhya's thoughts echo Mira's own. How do you discuss death with someone already gone? And whom you put to the sword? If there was another way without causing more danger...but life is never fair. Mira's learned to live with it.]
Duty or not, I meant those words to you spoken during our first days on this star.
[Seeing such a small piece out before them...it honestly hurts. Usually when the supposed villain is gone, there is cause for celebration and yet Mira could not find it in her to do so. The gods could be heartless sometimes.]
[Irhya's comment gets a slight narrowing of the eyes, and a demonstrative shrug.]
My greatest problem? Of course death comes more naturally to mortals- it's your defining characteristic, after all. While some of us are capable of possessing more than one trait at a time.
[It was easy to fall back into arrogance, when things were uncomfortable. It was much better than admitting he was afraid of dying. Oh, he'd lost any number of mortal hosts over the years, but even at its worst, it had never been more than a briefly uncomfortable nuisance. He'd never felt threatened. But to genuinely die, after this long....
And this crystal came from his mirror, presumably his timeline, not theirs. While he couldn't give up, even if he desired to, it was somewhat disheartening of his chances.
What the hell was he even going to do with this thing.]
...And I still mean those words, Mira. For what little good it does any of us. [As his tone grows colder, sharper; looking slowly between the two, the Ascian shakes his head in mock-disappointment.] But I know well enough not to expect your assistance in this. If I survive, some version of our star that you'll never see will be Rejoined. And you can't accept that.
[And yet, Irhya can't help but smile bitterly to herself, because she knows that's exactly what's happening here.]
Does "stubborn" count as a trait?
[Still, she can't bring herself to be purposely obtuse for long. It's a hard truth he's going to have to find a way to accept for himself, and little solace will come from consulting any of them.]
I'm afraid so, though. If you survive, we consign a different Warrior of Light to their death. Not to mention the entirety of the First and a large chunk of the Source.
As the Warriors of Darkness told us what seems like a lifetime ago... one life for one world. Two, even, in this case.
[She doesn't look too happy as she explains it, though. It's not fun news to have to break to someone.]
That's right- you do have one other characteristic.
[Emet-Selch essentially had two moods. Depressed, and angry. The unhappiness was always there; it was only a matter of how much of the other was layered on top of it. Normally it didn't surpass 'irritated', however--]
How could I forget your unparalleled arrogance. You would see me dead across every world, rather than allow even a single one be returned to the people who gave their lives to save it.
[It's hissed out, gone from grief to fury in a matter of moments. Dragging himself to his feet, his stare as he looks down at them is absolute venom.]
Blithely you continue on, so certain in your right to pass judgement on a star you'll never remember. How kindly you'll accept even an Ascian in your midst, now that he's toothless and defeated. How calmly you play at domestic life with someone you would see murdered a thousand times over.
[Yet if anything is coming through over their tether, it's hurt rather than anger. The lashing out of a trapped animal.]
...How careless of me to believe that even a single thing I've said ever mattered to you.
[Irhya's default reaction to conflict is not to back away, unfortunately. It is and ever has been to answer it head-on. She is just as quick to jump to her feet, though the knee-jerk emotion that pulses through her isn't the same type of fiery fury; it's all racing heart and cold adrenaline, as if he were actually threatening her with violence.]
Does it make you feel better to think we fancy ourselves guilt-free in all this? No matter how many times we have to hand down judgments like this, it never gets any easier! One life for one world is still too many, and yet--!
[She has to restrain the urge to throw one of those yarn balls at him. Despair creeps up inside her like bile, and she digs her nails into the couch's arm just to keep her hands from doing anything regretful. All the same, she straightens herself up as high as she can to meet his gaze, undaunted.]
I like you well enough. You're clever and sharp and steadfastly loyal, and I respect all that. But don't even start trying to tell me what does and doesn't matter to me, or the reasons I accepted you here and now!
Look. You're grieving. Understandably so. But don't take it out on us when there's no guarantee our compliance would even change anything upon your return!
[Her first instinct is to proclaim how wrong the thought is but it's when she feels the hurt through their bond that Mira pauses and thinks. She can't think like that or lash out otherwise, it'll just be worse between the three of them. No, the woman has to listen and choose her words carefully. Slowly, she stands and looks at Emet-Selch straight in his eyes, without a single doubt of fear.]
I have always seen myself as a sinner, will not proclaim better than anyone else. Nor will I ever speak of having no guilt for the actions I have done; 'tis something that is best owned rather than forgotten or so in my opinion.
[Her voice is calm, putting a hand over her heart, trying to keep herself steady just in case another wave of emotion comes crashing down but trying to hold her own at bay. All the pain and despair, the worry and sorrow that is not needed right now. Not when the tension is high and rightfully so.]
If you consider yourself toothless, then why are you showing us the opposite? Instead of running away, why do you stand your ground? If anything, you simply are not the kind of man who lies down like a dog at the heels of his master. Nay, you're bloody brilliant when you wish to be and damned determined to accomplish a goal no matter what it costs to you.
[It's kind of funny how they're similar in that aspect.]
But listen to me when I say this: you have every right to be angry. Every right to grieve, I will not take that away from you. But we do not know what would happen if we were to comply. This world's laws seem to be different from our own and we cannot assume that it will work as such.
[If there is a emotion that Mira has unknowingly linked through both Bonds, it's determination. That feeling of not yielding...and yet not smothering. That's how she feels.]
[Every word was a drip of oil into an already smouldering fire. It didn't matter how impassioned, how reasonable they both were; his mind worked automatically to twist their sentiments into cruelties, their compliments into mockeries. To hear only what he expected, what would justify his response.
The small awareness of they don't deserve this was drowned out in a chorus of pain. It didn't matter that this display would accomplish nothing useful. There was only to hurt, and to be hurt. Even if there was no satisfaction to be had; this was how he'd ever been.]
Oh, is this another one of your mercies? This pretension of understanding?
[The fury hasn't shifted, but it's joined by a flash of scorn.]
Do you think I'm not aware that my chances may as well be imperceptible? So minuscule as to be meaningless? But yet that's not good enough for you- you would take even that small hope from me, just as you've taken all else.
[Gesturing sharply, tension was written in every line of his body. Holding onto this anger was the same as holding himself together; if he let go of it, he'd have to face worse things, like fear and the guilt of his own failures.]
And if, against every shred of reason, some means existed that might- might carry some possibility of change for me- you would drown it. You would hide it, destroy it, unable to face even the chance that in one, lone version of our world, things don't work out exactly as you would will it.
[Soon enough the Ascian would probably try to leave; the lone defense he had that wasn't entirely destructive. But not so soon to avoid the bitterness he throws at them, for the sake of spite and nothing more.]
But I'm being inconsiderate, aren't I? Not appreciating the trouble you're going through, being disrespected by a walking corpse. How I shall weep for the guilt that dares to disturb your blameless rest.
[Pointless. He's too distraught to even think of listening to them right now, and it's only beginning to look like one of her arguments with her mother, something for which she does not have the physical or emotional energy. Irhya grimaces and looks away, dropping back down onto the couch and leaning heavily into her yarn.]
...Fine. Just let it go, Mira. It's too fresh to do anything about right now.
[In hindsight, she wonders if maybe he would have been happier not knowing at all. Was it worth telling him the truth? Would he not have been hurt and distrustful either way? To what extent?]
You can yell and scream until your throat is raw if it pleases you, then. I don't care anymore.
[This is going nowhere. She can talk until she's blue in the face and no one would budge. By this time, the gaelkitten has heard the commotion and scampers away into another room and Mira simply sighs in frustration.]
Very well.
[Perhaps they were wrong in speaking up this time, should have played the fool when seeing that small piece of crystal. But would it have been worse if she hid it? A lose-lose situation. Instead, she sits back down, gripping her pants leg.]
I still meant every word spoken.
[Quietly spoken and that's all she'll say. It's no consolation but it beats screaming and things being thrown around.]
[Intense frustration joined the heady mess of emotions already running through him. Frustration, and a just as intense feeling of insult, of being condescended to. As though his grievances could be brushed aside at their convenience, that it truly meant so little that they would shrug and give up at the first sign of criticism.
It was as though they expected he would come to his senses so long as they ignored him, that everything would return to that caricature of peace. But he knew the condition to this travesty of acceptance, that it was based solely on the certainty of his death. Not only on their own star, but on all of them. An impassive, indifferent judgement, that they weren't even willing to defend, that they simply expected him to agree to.
That they had only recognized the futility of the argument wasn't something that he could consider.
The futility was the point.]
'Anymore'? Come now, we both know that's a lie. [A pause, as Emet-Selch leans over to pick up that outwardly broken part of himself, then looks back to Irhya.] Wouldn't that mean you cared in the first place?
And you. [As his attention turns to Mira, all of the hurt is still there, but twisted into a sightly different shape. And though he hesitates, in the end, he only makes a dismissive, half-disgusted sound, shaking his head.] ...Nevermind. I hope you're satisfied.
[Without looking back to either of them, he stalks off from both the room, and the house entirely.]
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And seeing Emet holding a crystal in his hand, it's as if a wave of the coldest water has hit harshly. Bonds are still a damn new thing and that same sensation would flow on her end as well. It's enough that her eyes widen at the object but no words came out of the hyur. However, her expression says it all:
'How did that get there?']
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But when that wave of emotion hits, he can't help but wince, attention snapping to the miqo'te, fixing her with an offended look, as though she'd done that on purpose. It takes a moment more for that feeling to really register- and that, mixed with the expression on her face has him go still, unsure if that sense of dread creeping up was his, or Irhya's.
Something was very wrong.
In the middle of that awareness, Mira's entrance barely registers- until he's hit with another, similar rush of horror. And then he looks up to her as well- finding Irhya's expression echoed there too. This also nets Mira a scowl that's more alarm than anything, his eyes flickering between them for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had set all this off.
Or rather, why, as it seemed to be centered around this dark crystal. It would've been exasperating if it weren't also deeply worrying. Without yet moving from where he's stretched out, his gaze returns back to Irhya and her question.]
...Apparently it came from my mirror. It's yet unknown to me- but perhaps not to you?
[It wasn't really a question.]
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...It's you. Or what was left of you, anyway.
[The addendum is made immediately after as she realizes her initial statement is not very clear. The strong pulse of emotion may have passed, but there's an unrest about her that can be observed without the need for a link.]
The auracite we used to destroy you. That is... a cruel joke, if it is one.
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I...I can confirm it. What she says is true.
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Slowly, the Ascian drags his legs down from the end of the couch, sitting up heavily. The idle grip in which he'd been holding the crystal becomes somewhat more ginger- as though it would suddenly break further, as if he could barely stand to touch it, yet was reluctant to put it down.
It was entirely different to hold a physical relic of those means. After being weakened, his soul must have been imprisoned in auracite, then shattered before he could break free. An impossible feat, yet they had managed it.
This was his fate. After everything- this would be the only thing left of him. Pieces. Fragments. More broken than any of the sundered races.]
I see you were thorough.
[Soft, almost toneless. Rather than a rush of emotion, there's a slow creep of it- an inexorable drift towards despair, the tide rising so evenly you don't notice until you've already drowned.]
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She opens her mouth to speak, closes it; tries again, this time with more surety.]
...Hades.
[She'd originally intended to keep the fact she knew his real name to herself, but it just feels like one of those moments where the revelation is more grounding than not.]
You are still the hero of your people. Little though it must mean coming from me, I really believe that.
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While I know we could never agree on the hows, there are not many who would do so much for those they hold dear.
[To bleed for their people, to comfort them, to save them. But what else could she say? There is no comforting matters such as death and the one who brings it.]
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But even as his name was grounding, the words brought more of a mixed feeling, and he looks down to the auracite in his hand again, turning it over slowly. There wasn't much comfort in their words- the kindness dispensed from the victors to their defeated foe- but he couldn't manage to scorn it either. He knew it was sincere.]
...We did our duty, all of us.
[Sighing finally, Emet-Selch leans forward to place the crystal on the table in front of him, before sitting back. He couldn't sense, nor see his own soul any longer; it was... certainly a feeling to have this broken fragment be the only record of its existence.]
I suppose this means that I cannot avoid it after all. This fate.
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[He had every variable accounted for, after all... except for one. So long as no one opens their mouth to him about it, she's inclined to think even prior knowledge of the outcome won't change much. It feels deceptive, but it's a part of their little game she can't afford to have turned around on some other poor Warrior of Light.]
Death is never an easy thing to deal with. Much less for an immortal, for whom it does not come naturally. But... that has ever been your greatest problem, hasn't it?
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[Just what exactly is this magic affecting this world other than 'dark magic' and its nature? What's deeper lurking beyond the surface? It can't be simply what the Coven says, right? Maybe it's because of all the deception (and not fully trusting Urianger) that Mira feels unsure about trusting most matters at face value.
Oddly enough, Irhya's thoughts echo Mira's own. How do you discuss death with someone already gone? And whom you put to the sword? If there was another way without causing more danger...but life is never fair. Mira's learned to live with it.]
Duty or not, I meant those words to you spoken during our first days on this star.
[Seeing such a small piece out before them...it honestly hurts. Usually when the supposed villain is gone, there is cause for celebration and yet Mira could not find it in her to do so. The gods could be heartless sometimes.]
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My greatest problem? Of course death comes more naturally to mortals- it's your defining characteristic, after all. While some of us are capable of possessing more than one trait at a time.
[It was easy to fall back into arrogance, when things were uncomfortable. It was much better than admitting he was afraid of dying. Oh, he'd lost any number of mortal hosts over the years, but even at its worst, it had never been more than a briefly uncomfortable nuisance. He'd never felt threatened. But to genuinely die, after this long....
And this crystal came from his mirror, presumably his timeline, not theirs. While he couldn't give up, even if he desired to, it was somewhat disheartening of his chances.
What the hell was he even going to do with this thing.]
...And I still mean those words, Mira. For what little good it does any of us. [As his tone grows colder, sharper; looking slowly between the two, the Ascian shakes his head in mock-disappointment.] But I know well enough not to expect your assistance in this. If I survive, some version of our star that you'll never see will be Rejoined. And you can't accept that.
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Does "stubborn" count as a trait?
[Still, she can't bring herself to be purposely obtuse for long. It's a hard truth he's going to have to find a way to accept for himself, and little solace will come from consulting any of them.]
I'm afraid so, though. If you survive, we consign a different Warrior of Light to their death. Not to mention the entirety of the First and a large chunk of the Source.
As the Warriors of Darkness told us what seems like a lifetime ago... one life for one world. Two, even, in this case.
[She doesn't look too happy as she explains it, though. It's not fun news to have to break to someone.]
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I can list a few more if it helps.
[Stubborn, moronic, loving, helpful, is there truly a need to list them all because she's pretty sure it's a damn long one.]
Alas, there is no way around it. In an ideal setting, there would be no lives lost...but we do not have that luxury afforded to us.
[It's a hard pill to swallow for sure. Mira's folding her arms as she speaks but she too does not feel any happiness as she speaks.]
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[Emet-Selch essentially had two moods. Depressed, and angry. The unhappiness was always there; it was only a matter of how much of the other was layered on top of it. Normally it didn't surpass 'irritated', however--]
How could I forget your unparalleled arrogance. You would see me dead across every world, rather than allow even a single one be returned to the people who gave their lives to save it.
[It's hissed out, gone from grief to fury in a matter of moments. Dragging himself to his feet, his stare as he looks down at them is absolute venom.]
Blithely you continue on, so certain in your right to pass judgement on a star you'll never remember. How kindly you'll accept even an Ascian in your midst, now that he's toothless and defeated. How calmly you play at domestic life with someone you would see murdered a thousand times over.
[Yet if anything is coming through over their tether, it's hurt rather than anger. The lashing out of a trapped animal.]
...How careless of me to believe that even a single thing I've said ever mattered to you.
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[Irhya's default reaction to conflict is not to back away, unfortunately. It is and ever has been to answer it head-on. She is just as quick to jump to her feet, though the knee-jerk emotion that pulses through her isn't the same type of fiery fury; it's all racing heart and cold adrenaline, as if he were actually threatening her with violence.]
Does it make you feel better to think we fancy ourselves guilt-free in all this? No matter how many times we have to hand down judgments like this, it never gets any easier! One life for one world is still too many, and yet--!
[She has to restrain the urge to throw one of those yarn balls at him. Despair creeps up inside her like bile, and she digs her nails into the couch's arm just to keep her hands from doing anything regretful. All the same, she straightens herself up as high as she can to meet his gaze, undaunted.]
I like you well enough. You're clever and sharp and steadfastly loyal, and I respect all that. But don't even start trying to tell me what does and doesn't matter to me, or the reasons I accepted you here and now!
Look. You're grieving. Understandably so. But don't take it out on us when there's no guarantee our compliance would even change anything upon your return!
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I have always seen myself as a sinner, will not proclaim better than anyone else. Nor will I ever speak of having no guilt for the actions I have done; 'tis something that is best owned rather than forgotten or so in my opinion.
[Her voice is calm, putting a hand over her heart, trying to keep herself steady just in case another wave of emotion comes crashing down but trying to hold her own at bay. All the pain and despair, the worry and sorrow that is not needed right now. Not when the tension is high and rightfully so.]
If you consider yourself toothless, then why are you showing us the opposite? Instead of running away, why do you stand your ground? If anything, you simply are not the kind of man who lies down like a dog at the heels of his master. Nay, you're bloody brilliant when you wish to be and damned determined to accomplish a goal no matter what it costs to you.
[It's kind of funny how they're similar in that aspect.]
But listen to me when I say this: you have every right to be angry. Every right to grieve, I will not take that away from you. But we do not know what would happen if we were to comply. This world's laws seem to be different from our own and we cannot assume that it will work as such.
[If there is a emotion that Mira has unknowingly linked through both Bonds, it's determination. That feeling of not yielding...and yet not smothering. That's how she feels.]
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The small awareness of they don't deserve this was drowned out in a chorus of pain. It didn't matter that this display would accomplish nothing useful. There was only to hurt, and to be hurt. Even if there was no satisfaction to be had; this was how he'd ever been.]
Oh, is this another one of your mercies? This pretension of understanding?
[The fury hasn't shifted, but it's joined by a flash of scorn.]
Do you think I'm not aware that my chances may as well be imperceptible? So minuscule as to be meaningless? But yet that's not good enough for you- you would take even that small hope from me, just as you've taken all else.
[Gesturing sharply, tension was written in every line of his body. Holding onto this anger was the same as holding himself together; if he let go of it, he'd have to face worse things, like fear and the guilt of his own failures.]
And if, against every shred of reason, some means existed that might- might carry some possibility of change for me- you would drown it. You would hide it, destroy it, unable to face even the chance that in one, lone version of our world, things don't work out exactly as you would will it.
[Soon enough the Ascian would probably try to leave; the lone defense he had that wasn't entirely destructive. But not so soon to avoid the bitterness he throws at them, for the sake of spite and nothing more.]
But I'm being inconsiderate, aren't I? Not appreciating the trouble you're going through, being disrespected by a walking corpse. How I shall weep for the guilt that dares to disturb your blameless rest.
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...Fine. Just let it go, Mira. It's too fresh to do anything about right now.
[In hindsight, she wonders if maybe he would have been happier not knowing at all. Was it worth telling him the truth? Would he not have been hurt and distrustful either way? To what extent?]
You can yell and scream until your throat is raw if it pleases you, then. I don't care anymore.
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Very well.
[Perhaps they were wrong in speaking up this time, should have played the fool when seeing that small piece of crystal. But would it have been worse if she hid it? A lose-lose situation. Instead, she sits back down, gripping her pants leg.]
I still meant every word spoken.
[Quietly spoken and that's all she'll say. It's no consolation but it beats screaming and things being thrown around.]
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It was as though they expected he would come to his senses so long as they ignored him, that everything would return to that caricature of peace. But he knew the condition to this travesty of acceptance, that it was based solely on the certainty of his death. Not only on their own star, but on all of them. An impassive, indifferent judgement, that they weren't even willing to defend, that they simply expected him to agree to.
That they had only recognized the futility of the argument wasn't something that he could consider.
The futility was the point.]
'Anymore'? Come now, we both know that's a lie. [A pause, as Emet-Selch leans over to pick up that outwardly broken part of himself, then looks back to Irhya.] Wouldn't that mean you cared in the first place?
And you. [As his attention turns to Mira, all of the hurt is still there, but twisted into a sightly different shape. And though he hesitates, in the end, he only makes a dismissive, half-disgusted sound, shaking his head.] ...Nevermind. I hope you're satisfied.
[Without looking back to either of them, he stalks off from both the room, and the house entirely.]