We did it to ourselves, by foolishly accepting the offer of some dubious character lurking around a brothel. We chose to act on that offer, we chose to kill. One can hardly place the blame at the Olympian government's feet for that.
[And if anything it only makes him question himself all the more, his capacity for reason and logic and sound decision making. It had seemed simple enough, at the time: take the money, kill the drivers, prevent a catastrophe from occurring within the country that had taken them in during their hour of need, when they no longer had a world to call their own. Understandable, perhaps, that he'd been taken in so easily, when all he's ever known is violence and killing and death. But his bad judgment has shaken him, all the same. Left him more certain than ever before that freedom isn't something for the likes of a hound like himself.
He eyes the older man carefully, and yes there's something of threat in his demeanour, something feral that threatens to come undone at the drop of a hat, but for now he's keeping it in and down and buried behind the rise and fall of his ribs because violence here would do nothing but bring down more difficulties upon himself. Instead he shrugs, finally. Dismissive.]
Hardly. I don't obey just any order. But if we're to make a home for ourselves in this world, I'd rather choose one and be done with it. No hopping about from place to place.
[Not something overtly said, then, but already there are thin threads of familiarity growing here for him, the smallest hints of rootedness. He can't give that all up and start over, not in a place like this. A place so far removed from everything he knows that, quite frankly, it frightens him.]
no subject
[And if anything it only makes him question himself all the more, his capacity for reason and logic and sound decision making. It had seemed simple enough, at the time: take the money, kill the drivers, prevent a catastrophe from occurring within the country that had taken them in during their hour of need, when they no longer had a world to call their own. Understandable, perhaps, that he'd been taken in so easily, when all he's ever known is violence and killing and death. But his bad judgment has shaken him, all the same. Left him more certain than ever before that freedom isn't something for the likes of a hound like himself.
He eyes the older man carefully, and yes there's something of threat in his demeanour, something feral that threatens to come undone at the drop of a hat, but for now he's keeping it in and down and buried behind the rise and fall of his ribs because violence here would do nothing but bring down more difficulties upon himself. Instead he shrugs, finally. Dismissive.]
Hardly. I don't obey just any order. But if we're to make a home for ourselves in this world, I'd rather choose one and be done with it. No hopping about from place to place.
[Not something overtly said, then, but already there are thin threads of familiarity growing here for him, the smallest hints of rootedness. He can't give that all up and start over, not in a place like this. A place so far removed from everything he knows that, quite frankly, it frightens him.]