[Is all that he feels the need to say about that. It's not an uncommon theme that he's seen from humanity so far- shame in living, guilt and regret over being alive or somehow failing to die. It's a sentiment that he can't quite comprehend, but it's starting to help him shape his idea of these people, who hold so many things over their own lives.
He considers it for a moment, the desperation, how it seems to be viewed as cowardice... and then nods, accepting the offering.]
Very well. Your plants will grow, and they will be free from your poison. Do you require anything else of me?
Interesting. [His voice cracks quietly, and his hands at his side clench tightly.] You think the farce that was my life is interesting!?
[He shouldn't be getting angry. There's no point in expecting these gods to completely understand how he'd work. Those at home didn't get it either. People didn't understand why he was so crushed to learn he was a synth; they knew of his hatred of synths, but they could not comprehend why he couldn't simply just accept that he was wrong about synths. Why he was so insistent that all synths were monstrosities, man's attempt at playing god gone wrong.
Nora hadn't understood either, but she had accepted that he may never be able to accept his past, or his lack of a one. Instead she tried to help him carve a better future for himself, hoping that in the process, somehow, he'd come closer to acceptance on his own.
No one else had understood. But she alone had accepted. And Danse sincerely thought he could live with that. He sincerely believed that they might've had a happy ending.
Stupid.
It really takes just the slightest crack to breakdown the wall. Danse is angry, but he's also in real anguish and pain and sadness, and it's all pouring out from him with the force of an unleashed dam. He's trying hard not to lose his temper, but damn it does Sorrow's clinical and detached manner make that hard.] Are you so devoid of the capability for empathy that the only thing you can derive from my suffering is an interesting bedtime story!?
[He corrects quietly, watching as Danse wrestles with his many emotions. There's pain there, he can feel it, but also rage, which doesn't really help him at all. No matter- he's already gotten what he wanted and the rest of this conversation would be irrelevant.
Still, it gives Sorrow a little pause, and his eyes flick downward for a moment in consideration.]
I have priorities. I cannot pour my heart into every sadness that comes my way. Your kind does not work the same way that we do- I wouldn't expect you to understand.
[But...]
Your contribution is valued. I have given you what you wanted. Is that not enough?
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no subject
[Is all that he feels the need to say about that. It's not an uncommon theme that he's seen from humanity so far- shame in living, guilt and regret over being alive or somehow failing to die. It's a sentiment that he can't quite comprehend, but it's starting to help him shape his idea of these people, who hold so many things over their own lives.
He considers it for a moment, the desperation, how it seems to be viewed as cowardice... and then nods, accepting the offering.]
Very well. Your plants will grow, and they will be free from your poison. Do you require anything else of me?
no subject
[He shouldn't be getting angry. There's no point in expecting these gods to completely understand how he'd work. Those at home didn't get it either. People didn't understand why he was so crushed to learn he was a synth; they knew of his hatred of synths, but they could not comprehend why he couldn't simply just accept that he was wrong about synths. Why he was so insistent that all synths were monstrosities, man's attempt at playing god gone wrong.
Nora hadn't understood either, but she had accepted that he may never be able to accept his past, or his lack of a one. Instead she tried to help him carve a better future for himself, hoping that in the process, somehow, he'd come closer to acceptance on his own.
No one else had understood. But she alone had accepted. And Danse sincerely thought he could live with that. He sincerely believed that they might've had a happy ending.
Stupid.
It really takes just the slightest crack to breakdown the wall. Danse is angry, but he's also in real anguish and pain and sadness, and it's all pouring out from him with the force of an unleashed dam. He's trying hard not to lose his temper, but damn it does Sorrow's clinical and detached manner make that hard.] Are you so devoid of the capability for empathy that the only thing you can derive from my suffering is an interesting bedtime story!?
no subject
[He corrects quietly, watching as Danse wrestles with his many emotions. There's pain there, he can feel it, but also rage, which doesn't really help him at all. No matter- he's already gotten what he wanted and the rest of this conversation would be irrelevant.
Still, it gives Sorrow a little pause, and his eyes flick downward for a moment in consideration.]
I have priorities. I cannot pour my heart into every sadness that comes my way. Your kind does not work the same way that we do- I wouldn't expect you to understand.
[But...]
Your contribution is valued. I have given you what you wanted. Is that not enough?