[This is...painful. Battler has to remind himself - he's a man. He can bare through this pain because he's been through so much worse, but it's the sensation of her finally being gone sinking in, her fading away in his arms because he couldn't see the truth. He couldn't believe in magic.
He still has his doubts.
That cackle, too, is like a strike of lightning. It's jolting through his soul violently, and he has to bite his lip hard to keep from wincing.
Sayo is the culprit. Sayo made Shannon. Sayo made Beatrice. Sayo...hesitates.
It's surprisingly that steely look that is hardest to get rid of. Battler isn't a killer. He's, by all odds of probability, the least likely to be the culprit on average, since he's usually been the detective - and his gut instinct was always that no one was at fault, yet someone was. He didn't want to suspect or harm anyone.
But he just saw Shannon get tangled up in marionette strings and strangled. Beatrice was soon to follow. He knew what else was there.]
...Kanon-kun too, huh?
[Three. Three people tangled in those strings, each longing to be saved, each someone Battler was unable to save. His voice was toneless and quiet, which was a far cry from normal Battler. They weren't Sayo, but they were playing on her strings. And then, in some Pinocchio-like fashion, they became real people. Their own thoughts, their own dreams, their own hopes and fears and terrors and wishes.
And then she asks him...
Who is Sayo Yasuda?
That was the center of it all. Beatrice couldn't guide him there. She was gone. All he had was his own spirit. Which made him breathe in.]
...Someone who I forgot. Someone who was abandoned and tormented and finally couldn't take it when I couldn't...I couldn't see them. And yet I did, and I ignored it, and I arrived as though just coming back into someone's life on impulse was okay.
And everything might've been okay, had I not been so blind. There's endless possibilities in these fragments. Yet that remains a constant, doesn't it? The truth is something I hunt for, and then I refuse to accept it when it's staring me in the face.
No longer. I...don't want to be blind anymore.
[He swallows, his throat dry.] The sin committed is my own. The kindest thing I can do is accept that and know where I stand.
Nothing can be fixed so easily as with magic, but I've never believed in that, anyway.
[It's like shattering glass.
He's hurt by the shards. But he stands strong. That's the bravest thing he can do.]
(cw: choking imagery)
He still has his doubts.
That cackle, too, is like a strike of lightning. It's jolting through his soul violently, and he has to bite his lip hard to keep from wincing.
Sayo is the culprit.
Sayo made Shannon.
Sayo made Beatrice.
Sayo...hesitates.
It's surprisingly that steely look that is hardest to get rid of. Battler isn't a killer. He's, by all odds of probability, the least likely to be the culprit on average, since he's usually been the detective - and his gut instinct was always that no one was at fault, yet someone was. He didn't want to suspect or harm anyone.
But he just saw Shannon get tangled up in marionette strings and strangled. Beatrice was soon to follow. He knew what else was there.]
...Kanon-kun too, huh?
[Three. Three people tangled in those strings, each longing to be saved, each someone Battler was unable to save. His voice was toneless and quiet, which was a far cry from normal Battler. They weren't Sayo, but they were playing on her strings. And then, in some Pinocchio-like fashion, they became real people. Their own thoughts, their own dreams, their own hopes and fears and terrors and wishes.
And then she asks him...
Who is Sayo Yasuda?
That was the center of it all. Beatrice couldn't guide him there. She was gone. All he had was his own spirit. Which made him breathe in.]
...Someone who I forgot. Someone who was abandoned and tormented and finally couldn't take it when I couldn't...I couldn't see them. And yet I did, and I ignored it, and I arrived as though just coming back into someone's life on impulse was okay.
And everything might've been okay, had I not been so blind. There's endless possibilities in these fragments. Yet that remains a constant, doesn't it? The truth is something I hunt for, and then I refuse to accept it when it's staring me in the face.
No longer. I...don't want to be blind anymore.
[He swallows, his throat dry.] The sin committed is my own. The kindest thing I can do is accept that and know where I stand.
Nothing can be fixed so easily as with magic, but I've never believed in that, anyway.
[It's like shattering glass.
He's hurt by the shards. But he stands strong. That's the bravest thing he can do.]