THE END OF GLORY

“More than understandable.” Ruben took no offence; his curiosity had been calmed with thanks to the offered answer and thus he fell silent for a few more moments, turning instead to the paperwork before him. “While some science is necessary to further understanding and survival, some take the OBLIGATION too far– There is a fine line between progression and PLAYING GOD.”

She slowly worked her fingers upward to his scalp, her fingertips gently raking over it, massaging it quietly, her emerald gaze locked on his. 

“Genetics or no…” she began, a pleasant smile spreading her lips. “ I understand now why everyone is so envious of it.” she gently threaded her fingers through his hair once more. 

She shifted a bit, resigning to sit on her knees in front of him. Her fingers reaching to idly play with the ends of his hair. 

“ Does it get in the way when you’re fighting?” 

@warofthebeasts​ Continued from here: XXX 

In her hands, he was putty, relaxing, his head leaning into the fingers.

“I suppose so.” Let them be envious, he always thought; it had never meant a whole lot to him. All that had ever meant anything was war.

“I’ve grown used to it enough to where I know how to deal with it. And truthfully, it spends most of its time tied. It’s left loose for image purposes,” he answered with a shrug, leaning forward to allow her to play with his hair.

“I am curious - as to whether you tarnish all SCIENTISTS with the same brush as he—?” Hojo was… a hideous mess of a man, that was for certain. His experiments were far beyond even what RUBEN had imagined - and he, even as a young man, was thought to be a monster.  His ideas - wrong. But when compared to those around him? Perhaps Ruben was the LEAST of anyone’s worries. 

His fingers on the keyboard pause to consider the question. Did he tarnish all scientists with the same brush as Hojo? The SOLDIER frowns.

“At the end of the day, it is scientists who stand by and allow atrocities to continue in the name of science,” he answers. “So yes. I do.” And as helpful as the man had been, at the end of the day he, too, is a scientist who has likely committed his own atrocities.

“So you’ve brought a toy knife to a knife fight. Impressive. Stop poking me with it.”

Loops his arms around his waist and kisses him back.

He was already tired, eyes bright with exhaustion, and the expression he gave the professor was...

Empty.

“...Does it matter which I choose...? The choices are empty. Torture and torment for the sake of bringing your rabid dog to heel. I’m not stupid, Professor. You will deprive me of both of those...and worse.”

XD Well, it’s not too far from traditional Seelaiseaen courtship. Very hard to tell the difference between genuine bonafide violence and flirting.

It always seemed to him that Tseng, of anyone, knew his weak points.

The knife cut through his wing as if it were paper, slicing between and through the feathers and muscle, and the pain of it was more than enough to drive him to his knees as his vision went white.

But it was brief; did Tseng think this had never happened? Did Tseng think he had been left unprepared for just such an occasion? Did the Turk truly believe that he had not been taught to withstand?

He whirled, the knife still in his wing, wrenching it free from the Turk’s grasp.

His sword was swift; a slash would leave the man with the gift of a wound to match the one sustained in the Temple, this one given by the real thing and not a pathetic mockery.

“Let it. It’s not doing anything for me today.”