“Do you honestly think what you’re doing will absolve you? That it’ll ever be enough penance?”
Silence hisses this at Saria, battering down the twist in her chest at the blood crusted into her hair, feeding instead the fear and wariness she’s nursed since she left Rhine Labs.
And Saria just looks back at her, her expression carefully folded over emotion.
But Silence knows.
Knows that fractional tension about her eyes as she stands, the stiltedness that comes into her voice when she’s trying to recover from being thrown off-guard, the whole of her words softer than when she teaches about Arts or directs. It leaves her still and quiet there, long after Saria passes the still-unconscious Ifrit over to her and departs.
“...Penance implies I think what I’ve done can be forgiven. So I don’t think so, no.”
