[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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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.]