"Well," Mithos says, and then says nothing more for a long moment. Something in his chest curls, something like watching Kratos sit at the window watching the rain for three days straight because the storm was so great he couldn't make his usual trip to see Anna, something like jealousy and disgust and he doesn't understand how love for a fucking human could break a blade so thoroughly--
(Lloyd's human, too, though. Isn't he?)
Mithos takes his disgust in his hands and bottles it up, smothers it, so Lloyd cannot feel it. To bring it up while Lloyd is grieving would be an asshole move at best. He's glad he knows, because it gives him more clarity on the situation, but a part of him still wishes he hadn't asked.
"Well," he says, again. His mouth feels dry, even though things like that are just abstractions in dreams. He doesn't really know what to say. "I'm sorry that... that that happened to you. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
He doesn't know how to comfort someone who's grieving, really. It's been so long he's forgotten how he and Kratos managed, when Martel died. And when Anna died - when they thought Anna had died--
Oh.
Mithos... is just as guilty as Lloyd is, isn't he? Worse than that. Lloyd killed in battle, but Mithos plotted, planned, snuck behind Kratos' back, and then--
He killed Zelos, too.
The cannon stopped firing before Mithos told it to, because it's power source had suddenly stopped. Because Zelos had died. Because--
Feeling shaky, Mithos laughs once, short and startled and desperately trying not to think about the weight of that. He grabs the guilt and the horror and bottles it up. Wraps his fingers iron-tight around the dreamspace so it cannot paint another image than it is painting right now. He can't let anyone know. He can't let anyone know, not ever, because if anyone finds out no one is ever going to forgive him.
"A- Anyway," Mithos says, forcing his tone to be bright. "Sorry. I don't have any advice, or anything, but I have a really, really stupid question. Zelos had... wings. Is that normal for humans, in your world? Here, only Aegises-- well, and Father, I suppose. I've seen him with wings a few times before too, but he's - honestly I don't think he's human."
I WISH I KNEW
(Lloyd's human, too, though. Isn't he?)
Mithos takes his disgust in his hands and bottles it up, smothers it, so Lloyd cannot feel it. To bring it up while Lloyd is grieving would be an asshole move at best. He's glad he knows, because it gives him more clarity on the situation, but a part of him still wishes he hadn't asked.
"Well," he says, again. His mouth feels dry, even though things like that are just abstractions in dreams. He doesn't really know what to say. "I'm sorry that... that that happened to you. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
He doesn't know how to comfort someone who's grieving, really. It's been so long he's forgotten how he and Kratos managed, when Martel died. And when Anna died - when they thought Anna had died--
Oh.
Mithos... is just as guilty as Lloyd is, isn't he? Worse than that. Lloyd killed in battle, but Mithos plotted, planned, snuck behind Kratos' back, and then--
He killed Zelos, too.
The cannon stopped firing before Mithos told it to, because it's power source had suddenly stopped. Because Zelos had died. Because--
Feeling shaky, Mithos laughs once, short and startled and desperately trying not to think about the weight of that. He grabs the guilt and the horror and bottles it up. Wraps his fingers iron-tight around the dreamspace so it cannot paint another image than it is painting right now. He can't let anyone know. He can't let anyone know, not ever, because if anyone finds out no one is ever going to forgive him.
"A- Anyway," Mithos says, forcing his tone to be bright. "Sorry. I don't have any advice, or anything, but I have a really, really stupid question. Zelos had... wings. Is that normal for humans, in your world? Here, only Aegises-- well, and Father, I suppose. I've seen him with wings a few times before too, but he's - honestly I don't think he's human."