[ Would that be so bad, he wonders. Would it really be so bad if he let himself be incinerated to ashes alongside everything else he's lost? It's not even like he knows what he's living for, any more. Is it so wrong that a non-insignificant part of him actually longs for the restful peace that would come with oblivion?
'So what if I'm alive,' Abel might remember Gen having said back in Venera. And that same sentiment still holds true now -- he'd meant those words back then, and not just because of the raw wounds opened by the Innocence's effects. Gen is quiet in the face of Abel's grim statement, offering little reaction at first save a distant stare and a quiet exhale.
Finally, all he can offer is a low mutter. ]
Good for you, then.
[ He finishes his whiskey and puts the glass down; he's done drinking, he's not in the mood for any more. ]
You had the chance to make that choice and you made the right one.
[ Because that's easier said than done. Making that choice. Getting to make that choice. Abel can say what he wants, but ... Gen can't help lingering over the grim thought that that choice will never be one he gets to make. That sort of freedom is something that's never been granted to him even back in his shitty hometown; how can he pretend to have that agency here, in the middle of a war? His path has always been decided for him, and it's a question of whether he's strong enough to continue adhering by it. (But ... funny how he thinks he'll have a hard time forgetting what Abel said, those words coming back to him when he struggles to sleep at night. Funny how it's always a little harder than he expects, brushing off Abel's stupid idealistic sentiments.) ]
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'So what if I'm alive,' Abel might remember Gen having said back in Venera. And that same sentiment still holds true now -- he'd meant those words back then, and not just because of the raw wounds opened by the Innocence's effects. Gen is quiet in the face of Abel's grim statement, offering little reaction at first save a distant stare and a quiet exhale.
Finally, all he can offer is a low mutter. ]
Good for you, then.
[ He finishes his whiskey and puts the glass down; he's done drinking, he's not in the mood for any more. ]
You had the chance to make that choice and you made the right one.
[ Because that's easier said than done. Making that choice. Getting to make that choice. Abel can say what he wants, but ... Gen can't help lingering over the grim thought that that choice will never be one he gets to make. That sort of freedom is something that's never been granted to him even back in his shitty hometown; how can he pretend to have that agency here, in the middle of a war? His path has always been decided for him, and it's a question of whether he's strong enough to continue adhering by it. (But ... funny how he thinks he'll have a hard time forgetting what Abel said, those words coming back to him when he struggles to sleep at night. Funny how it's always a little harder than he expects, brushing off Abel's stupid idealistic sentiments.) ]
... was that all you wanted to say?