[Not that this woman has any reason whatsoever to believe her when she says that, but she says it anyway, always ready to defend her sense of honor and the scraps of the identity from her own world that had once made sense.
Her own world… being the primary answer to the other woman’s question. Before answering it, Hayame puts a small quiche-like thing in her mouth and chews, but once she’s done-]
The Yima woman put thoughts in my head, when I was first birthed into this hell. Feelings which I should be incapable of. I will not trust a word she says again, without doubting if that trust is truly my own.
[The mystical, mysterious woman who supposedly plucked their shards from the ether in the first place? How could they believe the woman wasn’t working some sort of magic on them? The Tribune may be a politician, but at least politicians were just men. More importantly, though…]
I have duties to see through in my own world. Promises that must be kept. I do not want some supposed “new and better world”. I wish to return to where I belong.
[She scoffs, sniffing at something meat-based on her plate.]
How is that Zenith woman going to do that, anyway? Create one world that somehow satisfies all her “children”? Somehow manifest “better” versions of each world lost? It’s pure nonsense to even consider it possible. To consider all our worlds “lost” in the first place, when it is far more sensible that we are the ones who got lost.
[How could entire universes dying in some strange darkness make more sense than a few people falling through the cracks?]
no subject
[Not that this woman has any reason whatsoever to believe her when she says that, but she says it anyway, always ready to defend her sense of honor and the scraps of the identity from her own world that had once made sense.
Her own world… being the primary answer to the other woman’s question. Before answering it, Hayame puts a small quiche-like thing in her mouth and chews, but once she’s done-]
The Yima woman put thoughts in my head, when I was first birthed into this hell. Feelings which I should be incapable of. I will not trust a word she says again, without doubting if that trust is truly my own.
[The mystical, mysterious woman who supposedly plucked their shards from the ether in the first place? How could they believe the woman wasn’t working some sort of magic on them? The Tribune may be a politician, but at least politicians were just men. More importantly, though…]
I have duties to see through in my own world. Promises that must be kept. I do not want some supposed “new and better world”. I wish to return to where I belong.
[She scoffs, sniffing at something meat-based on her plate.]
How is that Zenith woman going to do that, anyway? Create one world that somehow satisfies all her “children”? Somehow manifest “better” versions of each world lost? It’s pure nonsense to even consider it possible. To consider all our worlds “lost” in the first place, when it is far more sensible that we are the ones who got lost.
[How could entire universes dying in some strange darkness make more sense than a few people falling through the cracks?]