Though Angeal keeps quiet, there's a flicker of something in his expression that only lasts a moment. That would be a fundamental disagreement if he spoke on it, as if it had been a decision made by themselves that any of them weren't human. That decision had been taken from them all before birth. It wasn't a matter of perception, it was a matter of fact. There's no other conclusion to be reached about what he was.
He doesn't say so. It wouldn't help. Especially not in the face of the rest.
The purpose of this place made losing him inevitable, whether he spent months or years. Sooner or later he'd graduate, or be otherwise removed from the ship, and chances were good they wouldn't wind up on the same planet afterward, in the same time.
When all was said and done, even with the best possible outcome, Angeal would inevitably hurt him again. He would leave. And this time his absence would be permanent. Had accepting the Admiral's offer been the wrong choice?
Images blur, as he studies Zack. The boy he was and the man he is overlap in distortion, the years between one and the other erased enough where for a moment he could fool himself into thinking no time had passed and it was the same stricken face that watched him on the ground, trying to muster the strength to lift the Buster Sword by its hilt one last time.
The cabin's small. Inmates don't get larger accommodations unless they're far bigger than even he is, but it doesn't take much to cross the few steps between and reach a calloused hand out for one shoulder, as careful as ever but grip warm. Consolation? Commiseration? "...I'm sorry, Zack."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-01-10 10:35 pm (UTC)He doesn't say so. It wouldn't help. Especially not in the face of the rest.
The purpose of this place made losing him inevitable, whether he spent months or years. Sooner or later he'd graduate, or be otherwise removed from the ship, and chances were good they wouldn't wind up on the same planet afterward, in the same time.
When all was said and done, even with the best possible outcome, Angeal would inevitably hurt him again. He would leave. And this time his absence would be permanent. Had accepting the Admiral's offer been the wrong choice?
Images blur, as he studies Zack. The boy he was and the man he is overlap in distortion, the years between one and the other erased enough where for a moment he could fool himself into thinking no time had passed and it was the same stricken face that watched him on the ground, trying to muster the strength to lift the Buster Sword by its hilt one last time.
The cabin's small. Inmates don't get larger accommodations unless they're far bigger than even he is, but it doesn't take much to cross the few steps between and reach a calloused hand out for one shoulder, as careful as ever but grip warm. Consolation? Commiseration? "...I'm sorry, Zack."
It's meaningless, with nothing to back it up.