[For a moment... it looks like the Lancelnopt Synchrotron radiation alternately pulsing in her eyes have reflected in his own. She thinks she might be seeing things, the strain of resisting the call of both Kenoma and Hell's Gate messing with her mind... but perhaps she isn't. Perhaps this really was another world, and this man who spoke so confidently of being able to tell if she has a soul was something beyond human, beyond Contractor...
But she doesn't have time to consider it. She doesn't have time to figure out how she feels, to be told she had a soul. Should she feel glad... ? Relieved? ]
Oh...
[Before she can manage anything else... Hell's Gate calls again. Her body is wracked with pain, and her grip on the man she has reached for slips. Both hands pull back to her bony chest and she forces her broken fingers to curl, trying still to use the pain as a focus... but this time, it doesn't take as easily. Her teeth grit and her spine arches as she writhes upon the cold slab, gasping for breath, desperate to resist the despair clawing at her heart and mind...
And it leaves her exhausted, panting in a heap on the stone with her eyes dull and distant, unsure... unsure of how many more times she can stave it off. How many more times before she lost this battle... and died in everything but name.
She can't lift her head. She can barely move her mouth, though a trickle of black sludge spills from the corner and drips down her chin. But she can just manage a whisper, broken and barely audible.]
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But she doesn't have time to consider it. She doesn't have time to figure out how she feels, to be told she had a soul. Should she feel glad... ? Relieved? ]
Oh...
[Before she can manage anything else... Hell's Gate calls again. Her body is wracked with pain, and her grip on the man she has reached for slips. Both hands pull back to her bony chest and she forces her broken fingers to curl, trying still to use the pain as a focus... but this time, it doesn't take as easily. Her teeth grit and her spine arches as she writhes upon the cold slab, gasping for breath, desperate to resist the despair clawing at her heart and mind...
And it leaves her exhausted, panting in a heap on the stone with her eyes dull and distant, unsure... unsure of how many more times she can stave it off. How many more times before she lost this battle... and died in everything but name.
She can't lift her head. She can barely move her mouth, though a trickle of black sludge spills from the corner and drips down her chin. But she can just manage a whisper, broken and barely audible.]
Is that why... you won't let me die... ?
[Because she has a soul... ?]