It's not that he wants other people to suffer, and certainly, especially, he doesn't want people like Denzel to suffer--doesn't want the other children, languishing in the dark alleys of Edge, to fall prey to something that they don't deserve. It's not like all the people inflicted with geostigma did something, outright, to harm the planet; perhaps they could be blamed for their ambivalence towards it all, but then again, he doesn't expect everyone to be warriors, capable of standing up to something that ruled over them all. If there could be a cure for them all, he would be happy with finding it.
But for himself--does he want to live? Does he want to be redeemed, in that way, to have his body last a little longer? Honestly, it would be more comforting to finally be able to rest.
His gaze, narrowed, glances over at the petals that Sephiroth coughs up, the ones that pile together on the floor: it's a disgusting, sticky mess of blood and saliva, and like watching a sick person retch all over themselves in a hospital, he looks away like he should be polite. ]
I have to die by your hand only, is that it? [ There's some level of sarcasm in his voice, but otherwise, it's bland. ] Fine. If it heals the others, then fine. I just don't know where to go.
[ And then his gaze swings back up to Sephiroth, narrowed again. ]
no subject
It's not that he wants other people to suffer, and certainly, especially, he doesn't want people like Denzel to suffer--doesn't want the other children, languishing in the dark alleys of Edge, to fall prey to something that they don't deserve. It's not like all the people inflicted with geostigma did something, outright, to harm the planet; perhaps they could be blamed for their ambivalence towards it all, but then again, he doesn't expect everyone to be warriors, capable of standing up to something that ruled over them all. If there could be a cure for them all, he would be happy with finding it.
But for himself--does he want to live? Does he want to be redeemed, in that way, to have his body last a little longer? Honestly, it would be more comforting to finally be able to rest.
His gaze, narrowed, glances over at the petals that Sephiroth coughs up, the ones that pile together on the floor: it's a disgusting, sticky mess of blood and saliva, and like watching a sick person retch all over themselves in a hospital, he looks away like he should be polite. ]
I have to die by your hand only, is that it? [ There's some level of sarcasm in his voice, but otherwise, it's bland. ] Fine. If it heals the others, then fine. I just don't know where to go.
[ And then his gaze swings back up to Sephiroth, narrowed again. ]
You do, don't you?