"Do you think.. They ever thought about the fact that we were people?" Seemingly asked on a whim, she does not become sheepish as she usually would after asking a question, "About the fact we had families? People waiting for us to come home? Or, do you think it never really mattered to them, since they were doing things in the name of science, or.. Whatever? Sometimes I think .. Maybe they just.. Enjoyed it." Her expression seems to droop the more she speaks. ((From Chimera!Kanna!))
▐│∶x∶; — the train had been quiet for well over an hour. typical for late night rides. most passengers would have moved to sleeper carts by now or chased away restlessness with a few snacks and a drink at the bar. which is exactly why they’d remained in the main cabins. less people. less ears. taking the train hadn’t been an ideal option, but the still healing wound across his stomach… it wasn’t agreeing with the weather, let alone another full day on foot.
dolcetto slants his eyes to glimpse her from where she sits across, though his head remains still on the pad of his palm, tilted toward the window and passing grassland. his brows furrow, and he can’t help the scowl that darkens his features. of all topics, why this one? he wonders, though he can easily guess the answer. it’s the only common ground they share. ...and while he’d had people to lean on, she may not have had the same luxury. who knows how long she’s held it all in?
if he’d been traveling with a “normal” person, he wouldn’t have even humored the prospect of conversation. the more walls--the bigger the distance--between him and a stranger, the better. but. he knew those questions--the ones she’d asked. because he’d asked himself those very same questions, over and over, again and again, after every damned experiment, survey, test, examination, surgery, injection, poking, prodding, the fucking list went on and on and on.
he finds himself wishing that he had a better answer. one that’d bright some light back into her eyes. ...but he can’t. because the truth wasn’t kind, and no amount of fresh paint would mask the damage done to them. to anyone who’d been dragged into those cold halls. and to anyone that’d died there.
...the old chimera in the cell across from him. who’d long forgotten his name but remembered the name of his wife. they’d thrown him away within days of him falling ill. it was less work, after all. keeping him alive wouldn’t have been worth the resources... or their time. he didn’t have a family or a loved one waiting... he was just another rat in a cage. one that’d outlived its use.
dol lifts his chin enough to turn his head, check the cabin for anyone who may overhear. but they’re alone for now. and he sighs, sitting back and folding his arms with a shake of his head.
❛ it might’a started with science, but. ...well. ...shitty people
can let power go to their heads. let’m push somethin’ around
and they’ll jump at it. let ‘em play with fire, ‘n they’ll burn every
damn thing they can get their hands on. ❜
he pauses, scoffs, and looks back to the window.
❛ we stopped being people soon as we got checked in. ❜
