[ Angeal does notice the reaction, but it is not why he withdraws his hand. Even with what he has seen, the dawning awareness of what it must have taken Sephiroth to come find him.
To come save him.
He still doesn't dare, or find himself deserving of being allowed to linger. With this Sephiroth or ... his. And the question whether his would be feeling the same isn't for now, but he is aware of it.
He nods, slowly. With more knowledge, he can see how and why honesty would matter. He can fully empathize with it, too. If he had known longer, if he had had a chance to talk things with his mother, perhaps he would have found some semblance of a balance, rather than what he had faced Zack here to ask the puppy to do.
Then Sephiroth continues talking, and Angeal frowns in confusion - until the words add up with what Hollander has said, but by that point
The pain has begun.
He stumbles down, under the intensity, the suddenness of it. The snow-white wing stiffens, the feathers starting to shimmer towards a more metallic, tainted hue. ]
Jenova... [ A pained gasp. But it seems to make the pain worse, nearer somehow, so he clamps his mouth shut, gritting his teeth.
As a First, he has had his share of pain. His body can mend, but that does not mean it doesn't get hurt or feel that hurt. He knows how to manage pain, in some ways. But this, this seems to be in his entire body, and he can't immediately find a way to push it away, to push it back.
Even so, endure he does. Time seems to slow down to a crawl of agony, every breath labored. But Jenova, nor even Sephiroth, has anything to offer him to tip his sanity over the edge. Not even death, not anymore.
And there is... something else.
Angeal's emotions are strong, but very little of them is rage. Even less a desire to be the apex of existence, to conquer, to subjugate, to destroy. There is little in Angeal that resonates with her directives, little that years to surrender to the control that is being wrested from him.
Blood rolls down from one nostril, but he finally manages a tiny motion. Raises his head, if only a little. A burst of feathers explodes out from his wing, and it is pure white once more. The pain does not abate, and he doesn't ask for it. But he tries to recalibrate himself to this, to keep functioning. ]
Is this... what he would have to endure... every moment of every day? Because everyone has a breaking point.
no subject
To come save him.
He still doesn't dare, or find himself deserving of being allowed to linger. With this Sephiroth or ... his. And the question whether his would be feeling the same isn't for now, but he is aware of it.
He nods, slowly. With more knowledge, he can see how and why honesty would matter. He can fully empathize with it, too. If he had known longer, if he had had a chance to talk things with his mother, perhaps he would have found some semblance of a balance, rather than what he had faced Zack here to ask the puppy to do.
Then Sephiroth continues talking, and Angeal frowns in confusion - until the words add up with what Hollander has said, but by that point
The pain has begun.
He stumbles down, under the intensity, the suddenness of it. The snow-white wing stiffens, the feathers starting to shimmer towards a more metallic, tainted hue. ]
Jenova... [ A pained gasp. But it seems to make the pain worse, nearer somehow, so he clamps his mouth shut, gritting his teeth.
As a First, he has had his share of pain. His body can mend, but that does not mean it doesn't get hurt or feel that hurt. He knows how to manage pain, in some ways. But this, this seems to be in his entire body, and he can't immediately find a way to push it away, to push it back.
Even so, endure he does. Time seems to slow down to a crawl of agony, every breath labored. But Jenova, nor even Sephiroth, has anything to offer him to tip his sanity over the edge. Not even death, not anymore.
And there is... something else.
Angeal's emotions are strong, but very little of them is rage. Even less a desire to be the apex of existence, to conquer, to subjugate, to destroy. There is little in Angeal that resonates with her directives, little that years to surrender to the control that is being wrested from him.
Blood rolls down from one nostril, but he finally manages a tiny motion. Raises his head, if only a little. A burst of feathers explodes out from his wing, and it is pure white once more. The pain does not abate, and he doesn't ask for it. But he tries to recalibrate himself to this, to keep functioning. ]
Is this... what he would have to endure... every moment of every day? Because everyone has a breaking point.