Roen stared at the knife. The steel edge of it gleamed, and she could see her warped reflection smeared along its metal shaft.
Cruel. Brutal. Evil. These are the things he desired to become. Nero's gaze had turned hard as he spoke of the extreme lengths that he would go to achieve his goals. The fire that burned in his eyes, it was for Ul’dah, it was for the better future; it held fury for the suffering that pervaded like an epidemic amongst the poor. But when he spoke of his own life--the life that would be consumed and eventually lost in the end--there was nothing but restrained apathy, a scripted acceptance to his fate.
To become evil. To die in a blazing conflagration that destroyed all else in its wake...these were the things that Nero said he wanted. The smuggler has said these words to her more than once now. Just as she had echoed her own beliefs of justice to only see it fall on deaf ears, was she doing the same? Was she refusing to see the end path he was committed to carving for himself?
Was she, as he said, trying to save him whether he wanted it or not? Were taking on such causes her way of validating her existence? The fact that she survived when so many had perished in the madness that was Dalamud?
Nero’s spiteful words were meant to crack her resolve. But Roen could not help but see a glimpse of truth in them. Did she not choose the path of the Order to atone for the sins of her homeland upon the people of Eorzea? She rarely even acknowledged to herself the deeply seated guilt in her heart when it came to her father and his hand in the Calamity, and her own inability to save him.
Was she trying to save Nero now?
Contorted grey eyes stared back at her, mirrored on the metal blade. Sorrow, loss, and suffering, they perverted the heart and mind of the person they infected, much like her own reflection twisted on steel made to cut flesh.
Nero had shown compassion, patience, and generosity to those less unfortunate than he. It was what drew her to his cause in the first place. And it was that very benevolence that then sparked and fed his fury in witnessing their suffering. So how can a man hold both kindness and sorrow alongside such willingness for atrocity? Was deadening his heart his way of reconciling the two opposing forces that must have waged war within him?
Roen could not help but see the similarities drawn between her and the smuggler.
For the pirate, his compassion had stepped aside to allow wrath to dictate his course, his life. However, in the struggle between them there had been no victor yet. There was still a chance. Still hope.
Perhaps this time she could save him. And he would not cause needless deaths.
“Why..?†the paladin rasped, her eyes still fixed on the knife. She made no move to take it. “Why does Ul’dah own you so?†Roen peered back up at the smuggler, searching his eyes. “Why do you desire such horrible things? Why are you driven down this path? Why do you see such a violent end, and nothing else?â€
"Does it matter, why?†He lowered his hand along with the blade. His voice had turned cold again, distant. “Why does fire burn? Why does your body draw breath? Why does rain fall from the sky?" He shook his head. "These things know no other way to exist. These things are defined by these actions. Without Ul'dah, I am nothing. Without my belief that I can change it, I am truly broken."
The paladin exhaled. “Fire burns. Rain falls. We breathe. Such thing are ordained by nature. Even hoping for a better future, we are born with these instincts.†She leveled her gaze at him, slowly shaking her head. “To desire to destroy one’s own heart, to throw away their lives to darkness so that others may find peace… that is not a natural thing. That is a conscious choice we make. Perhaps when we see no other choice left to us.â€
“Is it not? Is this not the natural order?†Nero arched a brow at her, unconvinced. "You were furious with me because you thought of me as a wanton killer who took joy in suffering. Tell me, where in my actions did you receive that idea? Did I torture my victims? Did I force agony upon them? Did I want them to know the futility of their own deaths? Did I want them to forever recognise life's fleeting mercy?"
Roen bowed her head with a sigh. The bitterness and doubt had ebbed away, leaving only grim resignation. “I thought I saw gleeful satisfaction in you, as you took their lives.†She shook her head. “Now I know it was not malice. Not truly. But you also hold no remorse either.†There was still disappointment in her tone; it still leadened her words. “You are…who you say you are. I see that now.â€
The smuggler’s ice-blue gaze narrowed. "Is that not natural, to take joy in vengeance? In the bandits, I saw the ones who beat me, who forced me to fight the bottoms of their boots for a scrap of food. In the Brass Blade, I saw the ones who stood by and did nothing, who watched children knife each other for their amusement."
"I took pleasure in exercising my power, in knowing that with their deaths, mayhaps some like me may find some relief on the morrow." His lips curled in a cruel way. "I found it amusing, that those who would force such desperation and depravity on others would themselves scrabble so desperately for their miserable lives."
The paladin blinked, her eyes widening slightly. "I...I did not know," she murmured, pity leaking into her tone. He had never spoke of his past. She had an inkling of some of the darkness he may have witnessed, he spoke too vividly of the hardships that the refugees faced for her to think otherwise. But he had never spoken of his own past. Until now.
Nero frowned, rejecting her sympathy. "You are still arrogant. You still believe that above all else, you know what is right and wrong. And you think you can impose that on someone without knowing anything about them or their experiences." He crossed his arms. "I take joy in destroying monsters, for if I destroy all of them, then no one will be forced to stain their hands with blood like I have."
"You are right." Roen said quietly. "I know nothing about you. Or what you suffered." Her tone had turned to that of regret and contemplation. "I...I did not know."
Nero looked to her long and hard. "Let me tell you a story, then, Miss Deneith."
Cruel. Brutal. Evil. These are the things he desired to become. Nero's gaze had turned hard as he spoke of the extreme lengths that he would go to achieve his goals. The fire that burned in his eyes, it was for Ul’dah, it was for the better future; it held fury for the suffering that pervaded like an epidemic amongst the poor. But when he spoke of his own life--the life that would be consumed and eventually lost in the end--there was nothing but restrained apathy, a scripted acceptance to his fate.
To become evil. To die in a blazing conflagration that destroyed all else in its wake...these were the things that Nero said he wanted. The smuggler has said these words to her more than once now. Just as she had echoed her own beliefs of justice to only see it fall on deaf ears, was she doing the same? Was she refusing to see the end path he was committed to carving for himself?
Was she, as he said, trying to save him whether he wanted it or not? Were taking on such causes her way of validating her existence? The fact that she survived when so many had perished in the madness that was Dalamud?
Nero’s spiteful words were meant to crack her resolve. But Roen could not help but see a glimpse of truth in them. Did she not choose the path of the Order to atone for the sins of her homeland upon the people of Eorzea? She rarely even acknowledged to herself the deeply seated guilt in her heart when it came to her father and his hand in the Calamity, and her own inability to save him.
Was she trying to save Nero now?
Contorted grey eyes stared back at her, mirrored on the metal blade. Sorrow, loss, and suffering, they perverted the heart and mind of the person they infected, much like her own reflection twisted on steel made to cut flesh.
Nero had shown compassion, patience, and generosity to those less unfortunate than he. It was what drew her to his cause in the first place. And it was that very benevolence that then sparked and fed his fury in witnessing their suffering. So how can a man hold both kindness and sorrow alongside such willingness for atrocity? Was deadening his heart his way of reconciling the two opposing forces that must have waged war within him?
Roen could not help but see the similarities drawn between her and the smuggler.
For the pirate, his compassion had stepped aside to allow wrath to dictate his course, his life. However, in the struggle between them there had been no victor yet. There was still a chance. Still hope.
Perhaps this time she could save him. And he would not cause needless deaths.
“Why..?†the paladin rasped, her eyes still fixed on the knife. She made no move to take it. “Why does Ul’dah own you so?†Roen peered back up at the smuggler, searching his eyes. “Why do you desire such horrible things? Why are you driven down this path? Why do you see such a violent end, and nothing else?â€
"Does it matter, why?†He lowered his hand along with the blade. His voice had turned cold again, distant. “Why does fire burn? Why does your body draw breath? Why does rain fall from the sky?" He shook his head. "These things know no other way to exist. These things are defined by these actions. Without Ul'dah, I am nothing. Without my belief that I can change it, I am truly broken."
The paladin exhaled. “Fire burns. Rain falls. We breathe. Such thing are ordained by nature. Even hoping for a better future, we are born with these instincts.†She leveled her gaze at him, slowly shaking her head. “To desire to destroy one’s own heart, to throw away their lives to darkness so that others may find peace… that is not a natural thing. That is a conscious choice we make. Perhaps when we see no other choice left to us.â€
“Is it not? Is this not the natural order?†Nero arched a brow at her, unconvinced. "You were furious with me because you thought of me as a wanton killer who took joy in suffering. Tell me, where in my actions did you receive that idea? Did I torture my victims? Did I force agony upon them? Did I want them to know the futility of their own deaths? Did I want them to forever recognise life's fleeting mercy?"
Roen bowed her head with a sigh. The bitterness and doubt had ebbed away, leaving only grim resignation. “I thought I saw gleeful satisfaction in you, as you took their lives.†She shook her head. “Now I know it was not malice. Not truly. But you also hold no remorse either.†There was still disappointment in her tone; it still leadened her words. “You are…who you say you are. I see that now.â€
The smuggler’s ice-blue gaze narrowed. "Is that not natural, to take joy in vengeance? In the bandits, I saw the ones who beat me, who forced me to fight the bottoms of their boots for a scrap of food. In the Brass Blade, I saw the ones who stood by and did nothing, who watched children knife each other for their amusement."
"I took pleasure in exercising my power, in knowing that with their deaths, mayhaps some like me may find some relief on the morrow." His lips curled in a cruel way. "I found it amusing, that those who would force such desperation and depravity on others would themselves scrabble so desperately for their miserable lives."
The paladin blinked, her eyes widening slightly. "I...I did not know," she murmured, pity leaking into her tone. He had never spoke of his past. She had an inkling of some of the darkness he may have witnessed, he spoke too vividly of the hardships that the refugees faced for her to think otherwise. But he had never spoken of his own past. Until now.
Nero frowned, rejecting her sympathy. "You are still arrogant. You still believe that above all else, you know what is right and wrong. And you think you can impose that on someone without knowing anything about them or their experiences." He crossed his arms. "I take joy in destroying monsters, for if I destroy all of them, then no one will be forced to stain their hands with blood like I have."
"You are right." Roen said quietly. "I know nothing about you. Or what you suffered." Her tone had turned to that of regret and contemplation. "I...I did not know."
Nero looked to her long and hard. "Let me tell you a story, then, Miss Deneith."
