[For Sayo, the golden butterfly is magic. It's what deluded her into thinking there was a light at the end of the tunnel, it's what gave her the strength to move forward when she should've given up. Hope. Illusion. Release. Fantasy.
All empty.
It's no wonder that it remained hollow since Sayo refused to shape it. The omen is as formless of all of Sayo's magic.
True to John's guess, Sayo cackles harshly when he mentions sanity. The bags under her eyes, the tension between her, Kaworu, and Paul as they left that room, even the sheer ridiculousness of what she's asking him to do in the first place, all speak for themselves.]
I wonder what it says about me that the fragmented shard of my soul that embodies all of my worst traits is more stable than I am, [she muses as she directs the butterfly to land on John's hand. It follows without question.]
no subject
All empty.
It's no wonder that it remained hollow since Sayo refused to shape it. The omen is as formless of all of Sayo's magic.
True to John's guess, Sayo cackles harshly when he mentions sanity. The bags under her eyes, the tension between her, Kaworu, and Paul as they left that room, even the sheer ridiculousness of what she's asking him to do in the first place, all speak for themselves.]
I wonder what it says about me that the fragmented shard of my soul that embodies all of my worst traits is more stable than I am, [she muses as she directs the butterfly to land on John's hand. It follows without question.]