Koumyou leans into Devero's side, the tension running out of him like water after Devero's smile.
"I still don't like your world," Koumyou says quietly, "I still hate what it is now, and I don't think the infection is as contained as we might hope. But if we ever end up back there, I'll help you help them."
Give it a few hundred years and anything they accomplish will surely have backslid away again, but they can at least try. For Devero's sake, if nothing else, to try to make where he comes from as good as he's always believed it to be.
"But more importantly than all of that," he peeks over and up through his bangs, uncertain, "you're not blaming yourself for her death anymore, are you?"
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"I still don't like your world," Koumyou says quietly, "I still hate what it is now, and I don't think the infection is as contained as we might hope. But if we ever end up back there, I'll help you help them."
Give it a few hundred years and anything they accomplish will surely have backslid away again, but they can at least try. For Devero's sake, if nothing else, to try to make where he comes from as good as he's always believed it to be.
"But more importantly than all of that," he peeks over and up through his bangs, uncertain, "you're not blaming yourself for her death anymore, are you?"