[ It is, perhaps, both a blessing and a tragedy that Sion Astal is a man who no longer finds himself astonished by the cruelties of the world; the ugly truths which are harbored by this and any realm.
In one life, he had been at the epicenter of a pandemic, the outbreak brought about by civilians who would cannibalize their own for the sake of land. Thousands of lives had been lost, and it had been the Director's duty to oversee the construction of mass graves, hollowed out as fire pits. Corpses had filled the trenches, and at Sion's own command, so too had the near dead, the contagion burned from their flesh for there had been no cure, no treatment upon the horizon.
(Only the comfort of the grave, and they had been sent there by their countrymen.)
In another, he had been destined to lose himself to madness, his consciousness eroded away by a darkness which he could neither dispel nor abate. With no true sense of self (and how he has always been selfless, even to this day), he had plunged the world into war in a campaign to save it.
(The place, the people, the majesty of humans which he loved... what he would not destroy to save it.)
And in the here and now, in this life, his existence is a gentler one. Memories are lost, and some precious things may never be regained, but it has always been in the nature of humans to rebuild. To remake, and it is in this resilience which Sion finds faith, because--...
"But you'll have to excuse me if I don't trust you right away."
(Lavi, he really hasn't changed.)
Sion's laugh is breezy and light as he rocks back and forth precisely once upon his heels, the long plaint of his hair swaying gently with the motion: ]
Ah? I'd expect no less. Trust is something which can only ever be earned, after all.
[ And it will be an uphill battle, to be sure. Upon meeting Lavi for the very first time, he had seemed fathomless to Sion: someone who professed to be married only to his work, and yet proved to be selfless and--... impossibly fearful of others, in turn. ]
But... we were acquainted, you and I. [ In a life where Sion belonged to the great machine of the Company, and Lavi had been a Reclamation Agent: a bounty hunter who remained the very essence of neutrality...
...save for where one person so happened to be concerned. ]
I wonder... will you be able to guess how?
[ Eyes lighting with a measure of intrigue, Sion thinks on how the other man will choose to answer.
(Or if Lavi would even care to, for even an incorrect answer would bring them closer than where they are now, standing apart at arm's length.) ]
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In one life, he had been at the epicenter of a pandemic, the outbreak brought about by civilians who would cannibalize their own for the sake of land. Thousands of lives had been lost, and it had been the Director's duty to oversee the construction of mass graves, hollowed out as fire pits. Corpses had filled the trenches, and at Sion's own command, so too had the near dead, the contagion burned from their flesh for there had been no cure, no treatment upon the horizon.
(Only the comfort of the grave, and they had been sent there by their countrymen.)
In another, he had been destined to lose himself to madness, his consciousness eroded away by a darkness which he could neither dispel nor abate. With no true sense of self (and how he has always been selfless, even to this day), he had plunged the world into war in a campaign to save it.
(The place, the people, the majesty of humans which he loved... what he would not destroy to save it.)
And in the here and now, in this life, his existence is a gentler one. Memories are lost, and some precious things may never be regained, but it has always been in the nature of humans to rebuild. To remake, and it is in this resilience which Sion finds faith, because--...
"But you'll have to excuse me if I don't trust you right away."
(Lavi, he really hasn't changed.)
Sion's laugh is breezy and light as he rocks back and forth precisely once upon his heels, the long plaint of his hair swaying gently with the motion: ]
Ah? I'd expect no less. Trust is something which can only ever be earned, after all.
[ And it will be an uphill battle, to be sure. Upon meeting Lavi for the very first time, he had seemed fathomless to Sion: someone who professed to be married only to his work, and yet proved to be selfless and--... impossibly fearful of others, in turn. ]
But... we were acquainted, you and I. [ In a life where Sion belonged to the great machine of the Company, and Lavi had been a Reclamation Agent: a bounty hunter who remained the very essence of neutrality...
...save for where one person so happened to be concerned. ]
I wonder... will you be able to guess how?
[ Eyes lighting with a measure of intrigue, Sion thinks on how the other man will choose to answer.
(Or if Lavi would even care to, for even an incorrect answer would bring them closer than where they are now, standing apart at arm's length.) ]