And Ramirez freezes, fingers halting on the edge of the cup. All at once, he can feel the color draining out of his face and a nervous, unpleasant twist in his stomach.
He had to grow up thinking like a tool for his Elders, a weapon that could bring about the apocalypse if they so chose to do so. How many times was he told that the island dwellers only left a trail of death and destruction in their wake?
Funny, now that he thinks about it, being told that by men who would just as quickly use him to eradicate the world's population if Arcadia was not moving according to their standards.
Ramirez had been raised to be a murderer, though he was not told as such in such layman's terms. Defecting to the Valuan Armada was certainly the lesser of two evils, but that didn't change the fact that they were certainly the most vicious of Arcadia's continents, bloodthirsty enough to enslave an entire group of natives to mine in inhumane conditions, all for Valua's profit.
Murderers. He had been stuck with this role twice, and both times he could not bring himself to agree with their ideals. They were both disgusting, no matter how you looked at it. And Ramirez went along with both of them, hating what they stood for but allowing them to dictate his actions anyway.
The knee he had been leaning on comes down, and Ramirez slides into a more complacent sitting position.]
That's a relative thing.
[Souji is smiling again, but he doesn't care. Ramirez's lips thin and his face sets into a firm, grim line before he speaks again.]
I'm not a native to your world, Souji Okita. I don't fully know the circumstances that lead up to your current situation at home- only that it's similar to Arcadia's.
So I will ask you one thing.
[Ramirez looks up at this, purposefully and directly at Souji, and there is nothing hesitant or reserved about this look; it's like he's forgotten Souji makes him so nervous, or has at least brushed it aside for now in favor of a more important matter.
In fact, remember that whole personal space thing? Yeah, forget that. Ramirez leans forward, arms crossed in front of him, and Souji may get the impression that if there wasn't a table separating them, Ramirez would be right up in his face with a stare that could burn a hole into the wall.]
[action - March 15th]
...Oh, goddamn you, Souji. You said that word.
Murderers.
And Ramirez freezes, fingers halting on the edge of the cup. All at once, he can feel the color draining out of his face and a nervous, unpleasant twist in his stomach.
He had to grow up thinking like a tool for his Elders, a weapon that could bring about the apocalypse if they so chose to do so. How many times was he told that the island dwellers only left a trail of death and destruction in their wake?
Funny, now that he thinks about it, being told that by men who would just as quickly use him to eradicate the world's population if Arcadia was not moving according to their standards.
Ramirez had been raised to be a murderer, though he was not told as such in such layman's terms. Defecting to the Valuan Armada was certainly the lesser of two evils, but that didn't change the fact that they were certainly the most vicious of Arcadia's continents, bloodthirsty enough to enslave an entire group of natives to mine in inhumane conditions, all for Valua's profit.
Murderers. He had been stuck with this role twice, and both times he could not bring himself to agree with their ideals. They were both disgusting, no matter how you looked at it. And Ramirez went along with both of them, hating what they stood for but allowing them to dictate his actions anyway.
The knee he had been leaning on comes down, and Ramirez slides into a more complacent sitting position.]
That's a relative thing.
[Souji is smiling again, but he doesn't care. Ramirez's lips thin and his face sets into a firm, grim line before he speaks again.]
I'm not a native to your world, Souji Okita. I don't fully know the circumstances that lead up to your current situation at home- only that it's similar to Arcadia's.
So I will ask you one thing.
[Ramirez looks up at this, purposefully and directly at Souji, and there is nothing hesitant or reserved about this look; it's like he's forgotten Souji makes him so nervous, or has at least brushed it aside for now in favor of a more important matter.
In fact, remember that whole personal space thing? Yeah, forget that. Ramirez leans forward, arms crossed in front of him, and Souji may get the impression that if there wasn't a table separating them, Ramirez would be right up in his face with a stare that could burn a hole into the wall.]
Do you truly believe in what you are doing?