[It's a mumbled response, and he brushes his hands through his hair, fingers clenching slightly as if it'll pull the answers out of his own head somehow. The choice is his, he knows. That's probably what makes it so much more difficult. Who the hell is he, to be deciding this sort of thing for Lucis- no, the whole world? He's not even a king, he was never crowned, no matter what Luna or the gods might say. It's true that sometimes he hated being dragged down a path with no other option, born a prince, handpicked as the chosen while still just a child, all because of the bloodline and not through any merit of his own making. Even the Marilith attack had changed no minds; a broken Chosen is as good as any. Choice hasn't factored into much of his life until recently- not the big choices, anyway, not the ones that actually matter in the grand scheme of things. He's thoroughly unqualified to be picking which path the world should take, or which of the thousands of lives existing past or present deserves to endure in the future they're trying to rewrite here.
This whole thing is a mess, and trying to unravel it is becoming a nightmare. He doesn't like not knowing. He doesn't like not getting to choose. But he doesn't like the frightening prospects of their future, he doesn't like the idea of being the one to make any of these decisions.
What she says is true, though. Eventually he's going to have to make peace with one or the other... and that, perhaps, is the most frightful realization.
Slowly he straightens up, poking at the remnants of his half-eaten lunch and gathering what's left of it.]
I should head back... I told Luna I'd meet with her later.
[A flimsy excuse, since it isn't that much later yet, but she doesn't have to know that he's attempting an escape here. Even if he's vaguely transparent about it.]
no subject
[It's a mumbled response, and he brushes his hands through his hair, fingers clenching slightly as if it'll pull the answers out of his own head somehow. The choice is his, he knows. That's probably what makes it so much more difficult. Who the hell is he, to be deciding this sort of thing for Lucis- no, the whole world? He's not even a king, he was never crowned, no matter what Luna or the gods might say. It's true that sometimes he hated being dragged down a path with no other option, born a prince, handpicked as the chosen while still just a child, all because of the bloodline and not through any merit of his own making. Even the Marilith attack had changed no minds; a broken Chosen is as good as any. Choice hasn't factored into much of his life until recently- not the big choices, anyway, not the ones that actually matter in the grand scheme of things. He's thoroughly unqualified to be picking which path the world should take, or which of the thousands of lives existing past or present deserves to endure in the future they're trying to rewrite here.
This whole thing is a mess, and trying to unravel it is becoming a nightmare. He doesn't like not knowing. He doesn't like not getting to choose. But he doesn't like the frightening prospects of their future, he doesn't like the idea of being the one to make any of these decisions.
What she says is true, though. Eventually he's going to have to make peace with one or the other... and that, perhaps, is the most frightful realization.
Slowly he straightens up, poking at the remnants of his half-eaten lunch and gathering what's left of it.]
I should head back... I told Luna I'd meet with her later.
[A flimsy excuse, since it isn't that much later yet, but she doesn't have to know that he's attempting an escape here. Even if he's vaguely transparent about it.]