[ Carefully conceived ideals are nothing upon death; he acknowledges the uneasy swallow of Jeremiah's throat, unable to be suppressed, and recedes back. Elbow propped up on the table, he beseeches his cheek into his open palm.
All the while, Lelouch eyes him, examining Jeremiah's answer at length. He's an emperor of a thousand dead and countless more who have given up their lives to his cause, for his sake, some willing and others coerced into the act. More that he hasn't spared his wrath; he's always been alone in his anger, having lived his life only for vengeance. It could be so dissatisfying. Half of him is compelled to tell Jeremiah of his mother after all, how he allowed her to die for good, rather than accept a world closed off from possibility, lacking even a future. The other half, the part of Lelouch that wins out, is the part that deigns to take another sip of the drink, now more water than cider.
It'll pass. These feelings in Jeremiah— the loyalty he's bequeathed to someone so traitorous— it will all pass eventually. But Lelouch can't know everything. Peering into what he can read of Jeremiah's heart comes with the risk of his own being read in turn. ]
Nevertheless, how you treat your life is your own business. Whether you live or die, if it's by my side, I can't complain.
[ If Jeremiah's that devoted to him, he'll invariably die, some despairing affair fit for no one. C.C. was his shield and she's died endlessly for Lelouch's sake in his descent into hell. Even back from that crusade of revenge wholly intact, many, many more will sacrifice themselves for him. Jeremiah may yet be another one among that tally, if he allows it. ]
Haven't you ever wanted to be free?
[ No master to serve, no lord to suffer under. Right now, he could be anywhere, anyone; with Britannia's hierarchy dismantled for bureaucratic red tape, there's no door that would be closed to him, should he have the drive and will to aspire for heights greater than himself.
no subject
[ Carefully conceived ideals are nothing upon death; he acknowledges the uneasy swallow of Jeremiah's throat, unable to be suppressed, and recedes back. Elbow propped up on the table, he beseeches his cheek into his open palm.
All the while, Lelouch eyes him, examining Jeremiah's answer at length. He's an emperor of a thousand dead and countless more who have given up their lives to his cause, for his sake, some willing and others coerced into the act. More that he hasn't spared his wrath; he's always been alone in his anger, having lived his life only for vengeance. It could be so dissatisfying. Half of him is compelled to tell Jeremiah of his mother after all, how he allowed her to die for good, rather than accept a world closed off from possibility, lacking even a future. The other half, the part of Lelouch that wins out, is the part that deigns to take another sip of the drink, now more water than cider.
It'll pass. These feelings in Jeremiah— the loyalty he's bequeathed to someone so traitorous— it will all pass eventually. But Lelouch can't know everything. Peering into what he can read of Jeremiah's heart comes with the risk of his own being read in turn. ]
Nevertheless, how you treat your life is your own business. Whether you live or die, if it's by my side, I can't complain.
[ If Jeremiah's that devoted to him, he'll invariably die, some despairing affair fit for no one. C.C. was his shield and she's died endlessly for Lelouch's sake in his descent into hell. Even back from that crusade of revenge wholly intact, many, many more will sacrifice themselves for him. Jeremiah may yet be another one among that tally, if he allows it. ]
Haven't you ever wanted to be free?
[ No master to serve, no lord to suffer under. Right now, he could be anywhere, anyone; with Britannia's hierarchy dismantled for bureaucratic red tape, there's no door that would be closed to him, should he have the drive and will to aspire for heights greater than himself.
So, why? ]
Why did you join me?