...I knew a deep anger once, yes. A hate so strong that it almost consumed me. But... I was just a kid. Fourteen years are nothing compared to three hundred.
[ and he'd made peace with that anger, used the thirteen years since then to forgive and grow. it doesn't sound like sieghart had had that same opportunity, though.
[He won't contest the years between them. It's true this rage has festered for far longer, though he knows better than to say that his is something more than Hope's.
Yet . . . fourteen years are nothing compared to three hundred, but isn't that the tragedy of it? Fourteen is far too young. Sieghart sighs silently.]
My anger was also born from hatred. For three hundred years, I wandered in search of him . . . and now he's finally gone.
[However, he does not relish this victory. All that transmits through their connection is that sense of emptiness, just like the one back at the butterfly garden when they met again. At the end of the day, Sieghart feels as though he's achieved nothing.]
[ again, on a much smaller scale, hope can relate. it's what he felt when he came to terms with the fact that he never really wanted to kill snow; he simply wanted someone, something to blame for the loss of his mother. all his anger was gone, but that void never really filled. what he sends back is a signal of understanding.
[Coming from Hope with that signal, Sieghart truly believes that he sees. That understanding fills part of the void in Sieghart's own heart. At this stage in his life, perhaps that's what he needs.
The mention of the hostage draws in another feeling—one that's almost paternal.]
Her name is Mari. She's a kid I've been looking after in my late immortal brothers' stead.
As far as I can tell, all the shadow did was muddle my judgment. It made me think that the things I detest were no longer so despicable. I lost control of my impulses . . . [he gestures to the cell around him] and this is the result of my thoughtless actions.
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[ he crosses his arms more to just move them than because he's feeling annoyed at sieghart. he can't bring himself to look at sieghart just yet. ]
...I suppose I was more right than I knew, when I said I'd learn more about you here than I ever did at Wiwaldi.
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You didn't see much of me there. Here . . . you might have seen more than even some of my companions back on Aernas.
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[ his gaze still fixed on the ground, he brings one of his hands up to place over his heart. ]
How long have you been holding onto it?
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Hmm . . . If we're talking about that one, it's been about three hundred years.
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[He thought there was something about bottling up in Hope's younger data. Ah, well.]
I'm just an excitable guy. Anger and excitement go hand in hand for me. Besides . . . the source of that fury is supposed to be gone now.
[Only for this place to reignite it. Against his better judgment, he aches deeply.]
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[ and he'd made peace with that anger, used the thirteen years since then to forgive and grow. it doesn't sound like sieghart had had that same opportunity, though.
...that wording catches his attention. ]
"Supposed to be"?
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Yet . . . fourteen years are nothing compared to three hundred, but isn't that the tragedy of it? Fourteen is far too young. Sieghart sighs silently.]
My anger was also born from hatred. For three hundred years, I wandered in search of him . . . and now he's finally gone.
[However, he does not relish this victory. All that transmits through their connection is that sense of emptiness, just like the one back at the butterfly garden when they met again. At the end of the day, Sieghart feels as though he's achieved nothing.]
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I see.
[ again, on a much smaller scale, hope can relate. it's what he felt when he came to terms with the fact that he never really wanted to kill snow; he simply wanted someone, something to blame for the loss of his mother. all his anger was gone, but that void never really filled. what he sends back is a signal of understanding.
a longer pause. ]
Who is your hostage?
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The mention of the hostage draws in another feeling—one that's almost paternal.]
Her name is Mari. She's a kid I've been looking after in my late immortal brothers' stead.
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[ the emotion this time is purposely obfuscated; almost like changing the channel and being met with a channel of static. ]
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. . . I thought I wouldn't, but it looks like I was wrong.
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Was it an assignment, or something you actively chose to do?
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[As uncertain as that sounds, it's his honest answer.]
A shadow took hold of my body, but I was its host.
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[He'll never foist that onto others.]
As far as I can tell, all the shadow did was muddle my judgment. It made me think that the things I detest were no longer so despicable. I lost control of my impulses . . . [he gestures to the cell around him] and this is the result of my thoughtless actions.
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[ ...there's still a sort of silence from hope's end of the connection, but the smallest amount of something resembling pity filters through. ]
And what about your attempt on Mikazuki's life?
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That? . . . That was my thoughtlessly misplaced anger.