Devero's soul undeniably belongs to the good of his world, that virtue evident here and now in the intent way he listens to her speak, and the developing horror in his heart-- and on his face-- as she lays out the truth of who she is.
Oh, he'd suspected she was one of the many people on the train who'd had an awful childhood. How could she not be, when she doesn't even have a name on the passenger roster? When the very first time he met her she was carrying a gun, a gun he's since seen her diligently learning to properly clean and maintain under the tutelage of the priest at his side? A gun that he has no doubt she knows how to use, even if he's never seen her do so.
His heart breaks in his chest when she goes so preternaturally still, her affect flat as she tells them so plainly that she killed her twin sister at the behest of the authority figures in her life who told her she had to.
His heart breaks, and as happens so often when someone's history cracks that soft core inside him open, hot righteous fury spills out through the gap.
"Because of a god," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Because of the followers of some-- some vice-ridden, power-abusing cosmic jackass gave you no choice but to obey, because you're a child--!"
He cuts himself off, fisting his hands on the table so tight that the pristine skin across his knuckles goes white, lest he give in to his own vice-ridden temper and try to hit something. "Rust and ruin, I hate gods!"
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Oh, he'd suspected she was one of the many people on the train who'd had an awful childhood. How could she not be, when she doesn't even have a name on the passenger roster? When the very first time he met her she was carrying a gun, a gun he's since seen her diligently learning to properly clean and maintain under the tutelage of the priest at his side? A gun that he has no doubt she knows how to use, even if he's never seen her do so.
His heart breaks in his chest when she goes so preternaturally still, her affect flat as she tells them so plainly that she killed her twin sister at the behest of the authority figures in her life who told her she had to.
His heart breaks, and as happens so often when someone's history cracks that soft core inside him open, hot righteous fury spills out through the gap.
"Because of a god," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Because of the followers of some-- some vice-ridden, power-abusing cosmic jackass gave you no choice but to obey, because you're a child--!"
He cuts himself off, fisting his hands on the table so tight that the pristine skin across his knuckles goes white, lest he give in to his own vice-ridden temper and try to hit something. "Rust and ruin, I hate gods!"