There is a flicker in his expression, Emil’s throat tightened in frustration, though he did not explain. They were not similar, the chaos may have been, but there were distinct emotions that were separate between ‘distress’ and ‘panic’. Panic was more violent, more quick to slap away the hand, distress was much more mild mannered, easier to accept and move on. His head tipped to the side, turning away from Hubert.
“In general.” He corrected softly, “I have had a lot of experience with both humans and monsters, I f-favor the latter because they’re more straight forward … less likely to hurt you on malicious intent.” Much more experience than this person would realize. Ten thousand years of it, ripping through his conscious, betrayals of trust, broken promises, a home torn down multiple times …
“The Nova’s … they aren’t bad. They’re hurt … they hate humanity for betrayal of trust, for ripping to pieces their master, the person wh-whom they were loyal to. It’s understandable, even if it’s not acceptable.” It was why he had wanted to save them. Had wanted to push towards helping them, calm them down, but … even he, as Lord of all Monsters, could not do it. Not in the way he wished. “That is the only reason I agreed with you about killing them being a kindness.” His fingers shifted, tightening into his scarf.
Would he even listen? No, he would not. Humans were all the same– “Living in so much agony and p-pain … to be scared, angry, sad … and nothing else … that … that isn’t living.” Not like how monsters or humans ought to. All creatures needed some light to their life, and if they lost all of it. “That’s a fate worse than any death.”
One he understood far better than this person would understand.
Because all people, at one point, felt that hatred boil in their stomach, rise to their throat, wish to scream at each other, demand if they even knew what they were doing. Emil kept his head low, however, fingers clutched tightly to his scarf. “Humans are … not that simple. I understand th-them well enough too. It’s just …” Whenever you trust someone who you could not read, could not tell whether they were truthful or not … “Trusting them. More times than not, they are w-worse than beasts who peck at the first thing they f-find different. Starting wars, tearing apart things that are beautiful and never looking back.”
His hand tightened around his scarf. “There has only been a handful of people that I’ve seen who understand that … that don’t want those things. Who have been nice for niceness sake, r-rather than wanting something.” And those were the people Emil trusted, those who bore the naive look on their face.
Where he was thankful for brute honesty, there was always that feeling of phobia which clung to his skin. “Finding p-people who view the world as bleak, calculating, with nothing forward unless there’s something to be gained … that scares me.”
He truly couldn’t abide this person. For all that he had he stuck around, willing to perhaps reassess that initial dislike he’d found of this person, it’d been pointless. A growing anger; irritation--the only sort of lecture the militant enjoyed was that of the academic variety. The meekness, the stuttering, the low volume at which words were delivered made it all the worse to listen to--if the blond were to be so brash in word he might as well be in attitude as well. Such conflicting messages further grated against his patience.
Teeth gritted and fingers clenched against the water eleth-imbued fabric of his coat. This Emil--this person that had no part in those events wrought by Lambda, who had not witnessed those events which made Lambda and his monsters the way they were--was lecturing him? He was no idiot--he had been there, he had eyes, and he was aware of what made those beasts what they were.
And he was the one most set in destroying them to protect everyone else. Had been prepared and steeled his heart to bring not just the twisted, abused being to death, but his friends and family for the greater good had Asbel not assimilated Lambda as he did. An oath to his country and to that spirit which protected his country would be upheld no matter the cost--even if that cost had been his brother or Sophie, or Richard.
He was being lectured, on not just these monsters, but on humanity as well.
“ There are fewer so wretched
people in this world as you believe. “
He wanted to shout, to tell this stranger about the feats he and his comrades had accomplished. How yes, there were people that wished for a world without war, and who were working in tandem to accomplish such, even if for only the length of their lifetimes. But no--his words were quiet and cold as Fendel’s winter. He would not be swayed to volcanic anger, not while speaking up for what humanity still existed.
“ Perhaps you’re not so experienced after all. “
Quieter still--as he forced his arms to relax and drop, feet beginning to pick up and move. He’d no more inclination to be around the blond and his words any longer. His time would be infinitely better spent at other activities--and redundant paperwork was far more enjoyable.
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