[ Misa attends because she feels she has an obligation to; one of those spears that pierced the beast was her own doing, after all. That, and she believes attending has more to do with status. What good is a Kenoma that can't bear witness to such events? Since Godsblood, becoming accustomed to seeing more and more horrible things has simply become commonplace. It's a learning curve - sink or swim.
This, she finds, is almost easier to watch. She doesn't know Estinien personally, and never came into close contact with the being of the Innocent. It's always been easier for her to dole out judgment on those she never met or spoke to— thus, her empathy while watching the display is lacking. It'd hurt more for her, to watch Abel and Himeka struggle. But this? She's almost... cruelly passive, taking it in. After watching one of her own comrades have his head bashed in, even the gore doesn't bother her so much, not that she takes any glee from looking at it. No, standing there, in her neat, pressed clothes, arm casted from a severe break just a few days prior, she looks at ease aside from a gentle, contemplative crease in her brow.
When Childe's hesitation at putting on his mask, and his strange glances about catch her sight in her periphery, she turns her head towards him just slightly. As luck would have it, they're quite near, in the throne room. Her words are hushed, barely above a whisper when she talks, able to see him clearly even from just looking to the side— she doesn't want to draw too much attention to him, out of consideration. ]
Are you okay?
[ There's concern in her voice, and she picks at her cast idly, trying to search what she can see of his face for read on his emotional state. Before she continues, though, she moves her eyes back forward, not wanting to risk turning fully, unless it looks like they're partaking in friendly conversation. ]
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This, she finds, is almost easier to watch. She doesn't know Estinien personally, and never came into close contact with the being of the Innocent. It's always been easier for her to dole out judgment on those she never met or spoke to— thus, her empathy while watching the display is lacking. It'd hurt more for her, to watch Abel and Himeka struggle. But this? She's almost... cruelly passive, taking it in. After watching one of her own comrades have his head bashed in, even the gore doesn't bother her so much, not that she takes any glee from looking at it. No, standing there, in her neat, pressed clothes, arm casted from a severe break just a few days prior, she looks at ease aside from a gentle, contemplative crease in her brow.
When Childe's hesitation at putting on his mask, and his strange glances about catch her sight in her periphery, she turns her head towards him just slightly. As luck would have it, they're quite near, in the throne room. Her words are hushed, barely above a whisper when she talks, able to see him clearly even from just looking to the side— she doesn't want to draw too much attention to him, out of consideration. ]
Are you okay?
[ There's concern in her voice, and she picks at her cast idly, trying to search what she can see of his face for read on his emotional state. Before she continues, though, she moves her eyes back forward, not wanting to risk turning fully, unless it looks like they're partaking in friendly conversation. ]
You're looking around all funny...