Yomi hesitated for only a moment. What did it matter if he knew? What did it matter if everyone knew? It didn’t change anything.
“The sesshouseki,” she uttered, and without intending to she turned the word into a hushed murmur. A part of her knew their line of conversation was pointless, that this was her pain and not something worth foisting on somebody else, but she couldn’t help it. Klavier wouldn’t have understood. He was a human--an altruistic, naïve human. She couldn’t have made him understand her feelings the night she’d woken up, even if she’d been capable of expressing herself.
If someone, somewhere, understood her and what she had done to herself, would that make things easier? She didn’t know.
“But that’s something from my world; I don’t know if you have such a thing in yours. Have you realized it yet? That this probably isn’t the world you came from?” She glanced at his face, oddly hesitant about meeting his eyes. “The sesshouseki is… is immortal. Can you sense it inside me? Can you feel that kind of power, whatever you are?”
no subject
“The sesshouseki,” she uttered, and without intending to she turned the word into a hushed murmur. A part of her knew their line of conversation was pointless, that this was her pain and not something worth foisting on somebody else, but she couldn’t help it. Klavier wouldn’t have understood. He was a human--an altruistic, naïve human. She couldn’t have made him understand her feelings the night she’d woken up, even if she’d been capable of expressing herself.
If someone, somewhere, understood her and what she had done to herself, would that make things easier? She didn’t know.
“But that’s something from my world; I don’t know if you have such a thing in yours. Have you realized it yet? That this probably isn’t the world you came from?” She glanced at his face, oddly hesitant about meeting his eyes. “The sesshouseki is… is immortal. Can you sense it inside me? Can you feel that kind of power, whatever you are?”