Whatever it is that you have done, Julius— [ Tears. Tears, and for all their many meetings (their cavort through the meadowland, their walk beneath the stars) it is the very first time they are not the Director's own. Instead, it is Julius' eyes which are overbright, grey gone glassy and shining with gold as tears fall (turning red as blood) atop hands which are no study in monstrosity, but simply what it means to be human. The need for atonement which Julius so desperately seeks is proof enough of that. ] —and whatever it is that you will do now, it is a good man that does it.
[ No more and no less, even if Julius should find he agrees with Sion's too-candid assessment of before (calling himself a fool for something which the Director would now contest), and unravels in such a sad (heartrending, that it should only happen here, at the end of all things), beautiful (Julius' intensity, the way he so passionately feels, he should have always had the freedom to express it) denouement that the Director finds himself blinking back moisture from his own eyes.
Difficult for him, not be moved by his friend, but Sion does not allow his own tears to fall, instead-... He reaches to clasp Julius' hands within his own, leaning to rest forehead against forehead, nose just brushing nose as a thumb sweeps across the back of Julius' hand in a gentle, tender caress to wipe away the streaks of tears-turned-blood. ]
There is hope, yet. If nothing else, believe in this. For all the people you have lost and all those you would protect now, you must keep believing.
[ For their sake, even if Sion's deepest and truest wish that Julius would take up that belief for himself. ]
We will walk away from this place, and I will have my dear friend at my side, he who... [ His withdraw is slow, seeing the barest brush of lips against Julius' temple in a measure of fondness which the Director can think to convey in no other way, for Julius always, always seems to be in need of convincing, and Sion only wishes to say this once: ] ...is foolish enough to call himself a monster when he is the most noble person I know.
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[ No more and no less, even if Julius should find he agrees with Sion's too-candid assessment of before (calling himself a fool for something which the Director would now contest), and unravels in such a sad (heartrending, that it should only happen here, at the end of all things), beautiful (Julius' intensity, the way he so passionately feels, he should have always had the freedom to express it) denouement that the Director finds himself blinking back moisture from his own eyes.
Difficult for him, not be moved by his friend, but Sion does not allow his own tears to fall, instead-... He reaches to clasp Julius' hands within his own, leaning to rest forehead against forehead, nose just brushing nose as a thumb sweeps across the back of Julius' hand in a gentle, tender caress to wipe away the streaks of tears-turned-blood. ]
There is hope, yet. If nothing else, believe in this. For all the people you have lost and all those you would protect now, you must keep believing.
[ For their sake, even if Sion's deepest and truest wish that Julius would take up that belief for himself. ]
We will walk away from this place, and I will have my dear friend at my side, he who... [ His withdraw is slow, seeing the barest brush of lips against Julius' temple in a measure of fondness which the Director can think to convey in no other way, for Julius always, always seems to be in need of convincing, and Sion only wishes to say this once: ] ...is foolish enough to call himself a monster when he is the most noble person I know.
[ Of course he will stay, even so. ]