[ What does he really want to ask her? He's not sure himself.
And it's not like him to struggle so much with words -- not that Gen's ever been an eloquent creature, but he'd thought he'd always had a firm grasp on his own thoughts. He'd had to in order to maintain some presence of normality after that incident six years ago. But here and now, it takes him far too long to even process what Ciel is saying, let alone figure out what it is he wants to say. It feels like there's a gaping, hollow black hole somewhere deep in his mind, and everything keeps falling into it; simply stringing together his thoughts in a coherent manner is hard. His gaze is still fixed on the cross-section of the sandwich, processing it as little more than smears of colors stacked on top of each other, when he finally asks, ]
Why didn't you just kill them.
[ He's the one who says it, but his breath still escapes shaky the next moment. (His mind recalls the feel of flesh trembling and convulsing beneath his fingers. Dokja's rattling gasps. Blood in the gently-churning waters of a fountain. The starry night sky above that he now cannot unlink from the iron stench of gore.) Gen abruptly squeezes his eyes shut, tenses, then shakes his head.
He wasn't wrong for killing Dokja. And Ciel wouldn't have been in the wrong for killing Abel and the other one, either. This is war. ]
... you're saying this is war. So -- you could've just killed'em. Instead of this. Dragging it out. If they're dead, it's over and dealt with. But taking them prisoner ... [ His face has gone a touch paler, a bead of cold sweat at his brow, but Gen either doesn't notice or decides to ignore those factors. Somehow managing to force himself to meet Ciel's eyes as he continues hoarsely, ] Is that what you wanted to do? Leave'em hanging like that?
[ It's not that he takes murder lightly. But death is an endpoint, a conclusion. Causing a death is a burden to bear, but one could keep on moving while enduring that weight. This situation with the prisoners, instead -- it's a slow gnaw of wretched tension that he can't stand, and he wasn't even the one responsible. It's a steady reminder of something being wrong in a way that can't just be buried. Why the hell would Ciel choose this? How can she endure having that blood on her hands, instead? ]
no subject
And it's not like him to struggle so much with words -- not that Gen's ever been an eloquent creature, but he'd thought he'd always had a firm grasp on his own thoughts. He'd had to in order to maintain some presence of normality after that incident six years ago. But here and now, it takes him far too long to even process what Ciel is saying, let alone figure out what it is he wants to say. It feels like there's a gaping, hollow black hole somewhere deep in his mind, and everything keeps falling into it; simply stringing together his thoughts in a coherent manner is hard. His gaze is still fixed on the cross-section of the sandwich, processing it as little more than smears of colors stacked on top of each other, when he finally asks, ]
Why didn't you just kill them.
[ He's the one who says it, but his breath still escapes shaky the next moment. (His mind recalls the feel of flesh trembling and convulsing beneath his fingers. Dokja's rattling gasps. Blood in the gently-churning waters of a fountain. The starry night sky above that he now cannot unlink from the iron stench of gore.) Gen abruptly squeezes his eyes shut, tenses, then shakes his head.
He wasn't wrong for killing Dokja. And Ciel wouldn't have been in the wrong for killing Abel and the other one, either. This is war. ]
... you're saying this is war. So -- you could've just killed'em. Instead of this. Dragging it out. If they're dead, it's over and dealt with. But taking them prisoner ... [ His face has gone a touch paler, a bead of cold sweat at his brow, but Gen either doesn't notice or decides to ignore those factors. Somehow managing to force himself to meet Ciel's eyes as he continues hoarsely, ] Is that what you wanted to do? Leave'em hanging like that?
[ It's not that he takes murder lightly. But death is an endpoint, a conclusion. Causing a death is a burden to bear, but one could keep on moving while enduring that weight. This situation with the prisoners, instead -- it's a slow gnaw of wretched tension that he can't stand, and he wasn't even the one responsible. It's a steady reminder of something being wrong in a way that can't just be buried. Why the hell would Ciel choose this? How can she endure having that blood on her hands, instead? ]