[Lance listens as Shiro goes through telling him what he's done in retaliation to Superior, how he could never blame him. His face goes through a range of different pained and tight expressions. The voices in his head laugh because Mother Superior isn't even human, and isn't killing another human different from trying to kill a Pthumerian.
But at the same time, he also knows Shiro spaced Sendak all those years ago… what is that if not killing him? Sure, he didn't die, but… he knows Shiro has done things out of trauma and desperation and anger to fear and sheer stubborn force of will and confidence in the things he believes. And he knows that he's being honest and that he could never blame him for any of it. In fact, he admires him for it.
It's so hard to apply that to himself to start viewing himself and what he did in the same way. But in the very least there's a weight lifted in knowing, for certain that Shiro at least in his own way understands some part of it and doesn't think less of him or blame him. He lets out a shuddered breath, the tear that starts to escape is instantly evaporated by the gentle glow of his powers that had started to build.
He nods shakily in acknowledgement. There's still so much he doesn't feel okay with, doesn't understand or feel sure of in the bigger picture. But in the one question of if Shiro personally blames him… he's more clear. It helps a little.] Thanks, Shiro.
[He doesn't know what else to say, there's less of a weight on him but he still feels adrift, like there's a hole that's been carved out of him and… he has no idea how to fix it. What to ask for. Maybe the rest of it is something he needs to figure out alone.]
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But at the same time, he also knows Shiro spaced Sendak all those years ago… what is that if not killing him? Sure, he didn't die, but… he knows Shiro has done things out of trauma and desperation and anger to fear and sheer stubborn force of will and confidence in the things he believes. And he knows that he's being honest and that he could never blame him for any of it. In fact, he admires him for it.
It's so hard to apply that to himself to start viewing himself and what he did in the same way. But in the very least there's a weight lifted in knowing, for certain that Shiro at least in his own way understands some part of it and doesn't think less of him or blame him. He lets out a shuddered breath, the tear that starts to escape is instantly evaporated by the gentle glow of his powers that had started to build.
He nods shakily in acknowledgement. There's still so much he doesn't feel okay with, doesn't understand or feel sure of in the bigger picture. But in the one question of if Shiro personally blames him… he's more clear. It helps a little.] Thanks, Shiro.
[He doesn't know what else to say, there's less of a weight on him but he still feels adrift, like there's a hole that's been carved out of him and… he has no idea how to fix it. What to ask for. Maybe the rest of it is something he needs to figure out alone.]