Loki also watches the dog run as he turns her question over in his head.
"Yes," comes after a beat, because he needed to figure out if they were really regrets, what he felt, or just annoyance at the aftermath; a chain reaction he didn't properly predict. "Oh, certainly, it would have been grand if it had been ever capable of working, but it wasn't. At any point. Besides which, I don't really want to run an entire planet when one gets down to the brass tacks of the matter."
She snorts, kicking at the ground. It might be the same scale, but destroying a planet, and hunting down one, specific person? They're at opposite ends: two completely different extremes, and regret, for Abby, is a messy process. She doesn't know how to make jokes about it yet.
"Yeah," she says, just to say something. Maybe she'd expected something a little more sincere in response.
"I regret deciding I needed to be the monster of the fairy tale."
That comes after a few beats of both of them standing, silently. The mabari is still running from one end to the other, but Loki has long ceased tracking his movements. "I regret that it became my legacy. That I caused so much damage, so much heartbreak." For some people he will forever be the villain. He regrets that too.
She looks at him then, watching him work through the next few words like she's gauging something in what he says. Her brow furrows. There's a sympathetic ache in her chest.
"Yeah." This time, her voice is a little hoarse. She directs a grim squint out toward the horizon. "I– feel like that, too."
Her feelings about what she did to Joel are so snarled around the core of her grief that it's difficult to parse them out, but she can call that sentiment true. The fallout from her actions ruined everything.
He hears that note in her voice and swallows, nodding. It's difficult, the matter of growing a conscience after the deeds have been done. Knowing you've done terrible things, that your future actions may never properly outweigh.
Loki draws his hand through his hair, pushing loose strands away from his face that the wind will simply whip up once more as soon as he's done.
"I wonder, sometimes, if it isn't easier to just remain the villain." Shaking his head. "But that doesn't feel like a real option, and I don't want to remain the same."
"Trust me, it's– not." It's funny to think of herself as a villain (kinda over the top, right...) but to some people she was. To Ellie, she probably was. To the Seraphites, she definitely was. "You have to find a way to break out of it. And keep going."
There is all the difference between inching forward and turning around in endless circles.
"Being forced into a world and a humanity that I neither chose nor asked for seems like a clean enough break from the past," he points out, huffing out a sigh. "I suppose once one grows a conscience it is very difficult to turn back to one's old ways."
"You didn't have a conscience before you suddenly grew one?" The temptation to make a joke is too strong, the subject matter is slightly uncomfortable. "You should probably get that checked out."
Yeah, don't do that. Not even out of morbid curiousity.
"They are."
A friendly nudge, at his side with her elbow. "You good?" Might be time to be getting in. She's going to have to find a place to rinse Wags' paws off before she marches him up the tower.
She is, the brief conversation about regret notwithstanding. Though, it's the most she's ever spoken about it before. To anybody. Surely that counts for something.
"I'm– gonna see if I can find something to give the dog," she says, hands in pockets. A bone, or a bit of good food. "Wanna come?"
"Sure," Loki answers since he'd rather spend more time with Abby than spend more time spinning in his own brain about his own failures, real or believed, past or future.
"Let's find this good boy some good treats, hm?" He grins at Abby, at Wagner.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
/covers this timestamp my god
"Yes," comes after a beat, because he needed to figure out if they were really regrets, what he felt, or just annoyance at the aftermath; a chain reaction he didn't properly predict. "Oh, certainly, it would have been grand if it had been ever capable of working, but it wasn't. At any point. Besides which, I don't really want to run an entire planet when one gets down to the brass tacks of the matter."
i see no timestamp
"Yeah," she says, just to say something. Maybe she'd expected something a little more sincere in response.
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That comes after a few beats of both of them standing, silently. The mabari is still running from one end to the other, but Loki has long ceased tracking his movements. "I regret that it became my legacy. That I caused so much damage, so much heartbreak." For some people he will forever be the villain. He regrets that too.
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"Yeah." This time, her voice is a little hoarse. She directs a grim squint out toward the horizon. "I– feel like that, too."
Her feelings about what she did to Joel are so snarled around the core of her grief that it's difficult to parse them out, but she can call that sentiment true. The fallout from her actions ruined everything.
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Loki draws his hand through his hair, pushing loose strands away from his face that the wind will simply whip up once more as soon as he's done.
"I wonder, sometimes, if it isn't easier to just remain the villain." Shaking his head. "But that doesn't feel like a real option, and I don't want to remain the same."
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"Trust me, it's– not." It's funny to think of herself as a villain (kinda over the top, right...) but to some people she was. To Ellie, she probably was. To the Seraphites, she definitely was. "You have to find a way to break out of it. And keep going."
There is all the difference between inching forward and turning around in endless circles.
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Like, it makes sense but... whewf.
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Or to spare. You had to reserve it for the worst of the worst.
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"They are."
A friendly nudge, at his side with her elbow. "You good?" Might be time to be getting in. She's going to have to find a place to rinse Wags' paws off before she marches him up the tower.
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She is, the brief conversation about regret notwithstanding. Though, it's the most she's ever spoken about it before. To anybody. Surely that counts for something.
"I'm– gonna see if I can find something to give the dog," she says, hands in pockets. A bone, or a bit of good food. "Wanna come?"
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"Let's find this good boy some good treats, hm?" He grins at Abby, at Wagner.