( Emilia is already shaking her head, half-certain whatever reasoning he gives will not absolve her of this terrible deed. But she brings herself to stillness once more as those words stir something in her memory, and she has to strain to reach it.
The effort is forceful enough that she can almost feel a sharp sensation at her temples, but once it comes, it's a flood. She calls back to the first vision she ever had, the two of them stealing a moment at a party. The vision had been hazy then where it is clear-cut now, as sharp as the pain that rings in her head: the witching hour, the night-blooming flowers, the crescent moon.
His vows before — before nothing. She was gone.
She looks to him again with more clarity than before, even as that wounding feeling persists. )
I asked you to meet me in the midnight garden.
( To confess everything. To refuse Sursea.
For the first time in years, she has arrived to some piece of the real truth. Her hand moves to her neck, an old habit she's failed to indulge in for some time, but her cornicello isn't there to grasp. Her fingers settle on her collarbone instead. )
We both denied her. ( And when Sursea learned it was the goddess of fury the king of demons fell for, she decided she did not want the retribution that would come when all was said and done. It — she sees it now. )
[action]
The effort is forceful enough that she can almost feel a sharp sensation at her temples, but once it comes, it's a flood. She calls back to the first vision she ever had, the two of them stealing a moment at a party. The vision had been hazy then where it is clear-cut now, as sharp as the pain that rings in her head: the witching hour, the night-blooming flowers, the crescent moon.
His vows before — before nothing. She was gone.
She looks to him again with more clarity than before, even as that wounding feeling persists. )
I asked you to meet me in the midnight garden.
( To confess everything. To refuse Sursea.
For the first time in years, she has arrived to some piece of the real truth. Her hand moves to her neck, an old habit she's failed to indulge in for some time, but her cornicello isn't there to grasp. Her fingers settle on her collarbone instead. )
We both denied her. ( And when Sursea learned it was the goddess of fury the king of demons fell for, she decided she did not want the retribution that would come when all was said and done. It — she sees it now. )