[The terror that comes from finding herself in this place is nothing compared to the terror that floods her then, hearing Neuvillette's words--looking into his eyes and seeing the unyielding truth of them. Her breath catches in her throat; her hands shake in a decidedly ungodly manner.
Furina, human, feels utterly laid bare.]
You--you!
[She sputters, and chokes, and does not know what to say. Five hundred years on stage, and there is no script for this--because to be found out is to fail. And she could not fail. Could not allow herself to even think of such a thing for too long, because she would spiral.
And Nevuillette...You performed admirably to the very end, he says. Consolation? Condolences? Words meant to soothe the ache of failing her duty; to ease the grief of Fontaine lost beneath the waves?
(It says something--not something Furina can think of, as she is and who she is now--but it says something that, for all her confidence without, her first instinct is to assume she failed at the last, and let the nation she'd bled herself out for drown)]
The very end, you say...
[Furina shakes her head, bitter, wrecked with a grief she bolts down with the long practice of five hundred years. She can't focus on this now--it will destroy her.]
I will hold you to your silence, my dear Iudex--but I have never known you to break a promise, so I'm sure I needn't worry. For the moment, though, I am certain we have more pressing matters to attend to than some differences between our memories...like where exactly we have found ourselves! And if we are, indeed, the only people here!
no subject
Furina, human, feels utterly laid bare.]
You--you!
[She sputters, and chokes, and does not know what to say. Five hundred years on stage, and there is no script for this--because to be found out is to fail. And she could not fail. Could not allow herself to even think of such a thing for too long, because she would spiral.
And Nevuillette...You performed admirably to the very end, he says. Consolation? Condolences? Words meant to soothe the ache of failing her duty; to ease the grief of Fontaine lost beneath the waves?
(It says something--not something Furina can think of, as she is and who she is now--but it says something that, for all her confidence without, her first instinct is to assume she failed at the last, and let the nation she'd bled herself out for drown)]
The very end, you say...
[Furina shakes her head, bitter, wrecked with a grief she bolts down with the long practice of five hundred years. She can't focus on this now--it will destroy her.]
I will hold you to your silence, my dear Iudex--but I have never known you to break a promise, so I'm sure I needn't worry. For the moment, though, I am certain we have more pressing matters to attend to than some differences between our memories...like where exactly we have found ourselves! And if we are, indeed, the only people here!