( it's sad how common of a sentiment that is. he, too, is tired — exhausted down to the marrow of his bones, from his efforts and exertion but also the weight of his grief, his doubts, and his endless and pervasive fear. that having been said, however, where her Harmonization is an aggravating object of her weariness, john's dedication to Zenith is one of the few things that energizes him. it's with something more along the lines of single-minded desperation that he endlessly pursues its ultimate ideal, chasing after the concept of a world made better because he knows that the Fears would be permanently excluded from it. for him, it becomes something of a cycle: though memories of what he had made of his world harrow him, they also provide him with the conviction he needs to do everything he can for Zenith.
john can see the young woman crumpling under the pressure of her shattered mendacity; it pains him, and it makes him feel just as powerless as he might feel standing before either someone with physical injury or someone who wished him harm. just as he can't heal wounds or do much to defend himself, he's not a particularly comforting person. he just feels ill-equipped for it even for those he is relatively close to, let alone someone who is a near-stranger to him. but, really, what would help her more — paltry contrivances now that would vanish in the face of the impending reality of her falsified Harmonization, or choosing to ally with Zenith, where she might find peace from at least some of the fear that she must concern herself at all times with Meridian? )
...I'm sorry. ( a deep, worn, and mournful sort of sympathy emanates from him. it's not false. she didn't ask for this, and neither did he nor anyone else from his own world. ) It's - cruel, that you must be here and make this choice.
( in a way, it's a question he fears.
who has he helped, really? those poor souls trapped in the Archives with him... even though he had been just as powerless to escape the Eye's influence (made completely impossible after he had decided to return to life as its avatar), he had always felt some sort of responsibility (and, for melanie, basira, and daisy, a sort of literal culpability) over their involvement. no one who had ever walked through the Institute's doors to give a statement of their fear, to try to process and move past their trauma, had ever been helped by the Archivist that dwelt in its depths. at one point, he had fooled himself into believing he had saved the world from what the Unknowing might have made of it... now, he knew that he hadn't saved a damn thing. he had only wasted tim's life in vain, and then died pointlessly himself.
he had pulled daisy out of the Buried, yes, but in the end he's fairly certain he had only delivered her to either death or succumbing to the Hunt; melanie, he had offered freedom from the Institute, but the cost had been so high...
martin...
he can't think about (not here, not now). was the only person he ever truly helped gerry, in burning his page, to free what remained of his consciousness from the catalogue of the trapped dead? what a miserable thought...
he would never lie about the limitations to his capabilities, but exerts the same feeling of certainty and determination as he replies, ) ...To the fullest extent that I am capable of, I will help you. I promise.
( and Zenith, deep and dark and inviting in its acceptance of the worst that is, promises with him. )
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john can see the young woman crumpling under the pressure of her shattered mendacity; it pains him, and it makes him feel just as powerless as he might feel standing before either someone with physical injury or someone who wished him harm. just as he can't heal wounds or do much to defend himself, he's not a particularly comforting person. he just feels ill-equipped for it even for those he is relatively close to, let alone someone who is a near-stranger to him. but, really, what would help her more — paltry contrivances now that would vanish in the face of the impending reality of her falsified Harmonization, or choosing to ally with Zenith, where she might find peace from at least some of the fear that she must concern herself at all times with Meridian? )
...I'm sorry. ( a deep, worn, and mournful sort of sympathy emanates from him. it's not false. she didn't ask for this, and neither did he nor anyone else from his own world. ) It's - cruel, that you must be here and make this choice.
( in a way, it's a question he fears.
who has he helped, really? those poor souls trapped in the Archives with him... even though he had been just as powerless to escape the Eye's influence (made completely impossible after he had decided to return to life as its avatar), he had always felt some sort of responsibility (and, for melanie, basira, and daisy, a sort of literal culpability) over their involvement. no one who had ever walked through the Institute's doors to give a statement of their fear, to try to process and move past their trauma, had ever been helped by the Archivist that dwelt in its depths. at one point, he had fooled himself into believing he had saved the world from what the Unknowing might have made of it... now, he knew that he hadn't saved a damn thing. he had only wasted tim's life in vain, and then died pointlessly himself.
he had pulled daisy out of the Buried, yes, but in the end he's fairly certain he had only delivered her to either death or succumbing to the Hunt; melanie, he had offered freedom from the Institute, but the cost had been so high...
martin...
he can't think about (not here, not now). was the only person he ever truly helped gerry, in burning his page, to free what remained of his consciousness from the catalogue of the trapped dead? what a miserable thought...
he would never lie about the limitations to his capabilities, but exerts the same feeling of certainty and determination as he replies, ) ...To the fullest extent that I am capable of, I will help you. I promise.
( and Zenith, deep and dark and inviting in its acceptance of the worst that is, promises with him. )