[Barnabas is silent for a long, oppressive moment. For all Cid's petting and scratching, for all he leans into it, or shifts this way or that to accommodate the endeavor, he does seem like he's focused and somewhere else entirely as he thinks on what he presents him.
What if we rewrote our futures?
It's a tempting thought, one he would utterly rebuke if not for the collar upon his neck.
Nothing else feels like love, does it?
This is true, even akashic as he is, in the end he seeks love. He yearns for it, for the bliss that love grants him. The shield from suffering that it should bestow upon him. Yet, he knows all too well that man's love is fickle and fleeting. That not even Cid's could withstand what Ultima's could.]
How can I trust that you will not abandon me?
[He doesn't look at Cid as he asks, his gaze fixed on the windows across the way, at the sea as it crashes upon itself, much as mankind is wont to do.]
no subject
What if we rewrote our futures?
It's a tempting thought, one he would utterly rebuke if not for the collar upon his neck.
Nothing else feels like love, does it?
This is true, even akashic as he is, in the end he seeks love. He yearns for it, for the bliss that love grants him. The shield from suffering that it should bestow upon him. Yet, he knows all too well that man's love is fickle and fleeting. That not even Cid's could withstand what Ultima's could.]
How can I trust that you will not abandon me?
[He doesn't look at Cid as he asks, his gaze fixed on the windows across the way, at the sea as it crashes upon itself, much as mankind is wont to do.]