[ She mostly pushes chunks of egg around on her plate during his silence. Yuzu can usually tell when he's done talking, and when he's still trying to put his thoughts together, so she waits, putting her own words in order. ]
It's not the first time we've talked, since then... but it's the first time it's come up. Since... I mean... it's not like I didn't know his feelings about it. Yusei has been upfront about his dislike for these gods for almost as long as we've known him. I should have figured things out sooner, and I should have told you sooner... but when our fight started, I knew he'd be the person you'd talk to. ... I knew he'd be on your side. I... wanted you to have that.
[ She taps the tines of her fork against the omelette, not quite cutting into it. ]
He and I... I'd say we talked about the gods a lot, but it was more... the topic would come up, and he'd go on about what's a "good" god and a "bad" god, but I could tell it was about what happened in his past. He didn't know I was trying to make a decision back then, but it was always obvious which one he would have wanted me to make. It had nothing to do with the world we're in now.
... He's been drowning in his own guilt for so long, he doesn't remember how to do anything else.
[ It's a harsh assessment, but she doesn't say it with cruelty, or even anger. Her eyelids hang heavy over her eyes, and her countenance is still sad. She still wants to help him... she still wants him to see the future beyond this world, but...
She shakes her head. ]
But once we got into it, it was one thing after another. He accused me of doing it for favors and for power, that I was blindly trusting, and naive, like I thought everything would just be handed to me. That all I was doing was going to bring suffering, like— like existing here and killing people to survive doesn't count as causing suffering, like we don't ruin more lives than we take, like I'm the only one who's hurt anybody, he. He said I sounded just like him, that I— that I'm the one who's turned my back on people, when he, he doesn't even want to go home, he doesn't want to see his old friends again, but I'm... I'm the one who—
[ Her fork hits the plate and bounces, clattering to the ground; her omelette is cut up enough to look like scrambled eggs, shapeless mountains that break into smaller mounds as she shakes. She's cried already, but tears streak down her face, falling into her scaled, trembling hands—where they sizzle and evaporate, leaving nothing but the stains of hurt behind. ]
no subject
It's not the first time we've talked, since then... but it's the first time it's come up. Since... I mean... it's not like I didn't know his feelings about it. Yusei has been upfront about his dislike for these gods for almost as long as we've known him. I should have figured things out sooner, and I should have told you sooner... but when our fight started, I knew he'd be the person you'd talk to. ... I knew he'd be on your side. I... wanted you to have that.
[ She taps the tines of her fork against the omelette, not quite cutting into it. ]
He and I... I'd say we talked about the gods a lot, but it was more... the topic would come up, and he'd go on about what's a "good" god and a "bad" god, but I could tell it was about what happened in his past. He didn't know I was trying to make a decision back then, but it was always obvious which one he would have wanted me to make. It had nothing to do with the world we're in now.
... He's been drowning in his own guilt for so long, he doesn't remember how to do anything else.
[ It's a harsh assessment, but she doesn't say it with cruelty, or even anger. Her eyelids hang heavy over her eyes, and her countenance is still sad. She still wants to help him... she still wants him to see the future beyond this world, but...
She shakes her head. ]
But once we got into it, it was one thing after another. He accused me of doing it for favors and for power, that I was blindly trusting, and naive, like I thought everything would just be handed to me. That all I was doing was going to bring suffering, like— like existing here and killing people to survive doesn't count as causing suffering, like we don't ruin more lives than we take, like I'm the only one who's hurt anybody, he. He said I sounded just like him, that I— that I'm the one who's turned my back on people, when he, he doesn't even want to go home, he doesn't want to see his old friends again, but I'm... I'm the one who—
[ Her fork hits the plate and bounces, clattering to the ground; her omelette is cut up enough to look like scrambled eggs, shapeless mountains that break into smaller mounds as she shakes. She's cried already, but tears streak down her face, falling into her scaled, trembling hands—where they sizzle and evaporate, leaving nothing but the stains of hurt behind. ]