The other man's silence is worrying. It's understandable, but worrying.
(How is it that Daniel is the one who's able to cheat death so regularly, apparently untouchable, walking away again and again from the impossible and absurd, when he is the one who least deserves it. He knows who he was and how it compares to who he is and it's the most horrible feeling in the world, the fact that he would not be able to live with himself for coming up with that idea years ago but years later here he is actively advocating for it.)
"I'm sorry," says Daniel, dropping his stare and his hands and moving onward. "I wish there was something, anything else."
But he has no other ideas. The supposedly inventive, creative, peaceful, brilliant diplomat can think of no better solution save the extermination of scores of unarmed people. He knows no part of this snake is truly evil, perhaps not even its ruthless head, simply misguided and placing too much belief in false genocidal deities.
"Look, I'll be clear." His tone is flat, hiding nothing. "This is not justified. This is not forgivable. The fact that I'm asking this of you, is - it's despicable. I am asking you to place this on your conscience and I'm doing it because I do not see any other options."
He keeps walking, weapons in both hands. "I'm asking you because I know you can live through it. But that doesn't mean I can't. In fact, I." He halts, brow furrowing darkly. That's his talent, isn't it, the man who keeps dying but won't stay dead. What's one more death out of - he's lost count, he lost count years ago. "I don't even know why I - this is on me. It should be me. It will be."
Daniel's already committed enough atrocities. He won't mind coloring his soul a little darker to spare Seth's.
tw: everything is moral grayness and death, some suicide ideation
(How is it that Daniel is the one who's able to cheat death so regularly, apparently untouchable, walking away again and again from the impossible and absurd, when he is the one who least deserves it. He knows who he was and how it compares to who he is and it's the most horrible feeling in the world, the fact that he would not be able to live with himself for coming up with that idea years ago but years later here he is actively advocating for it.)
"I'm sorry," says Daniel, dropping his stare and his hands and moving onward. "I wish there was something, anything else."
But he has no other ideas. The supposedly inventive, creative, peaceful, brilliant diplomat can think of no better solution save the extermination of scores of unarmed people. He knows no part of this snake is truly evil, perhaps not even its ruthless head, simply misguided and placing too much belief in false genocidal deities.
"Look, I'll be clear." His tone is flat, hiding nothing. "This is not justified. This is not forgivable. The fact that I'm asking this of you, is - it's despicable. I am asking you to place this on your conscience and I'm doing it because I do not see any other options."
He keeps walking, weapons in both hands. "I'm asking you because I know you can live through it. But that doesn't mean I can't. In fact, I." He halts, brow furrowing darkly. That's his talent, isn't it, the man who keeps dying but won't stay dead. What's one more death out of - he's lost count, he lost count years ago. "I don't even know why I - this is on me. It should be me. It will be."
Daniel's already committed enough atrocities. He won't mind coloring his soul a little darker to spare Seth's.