[ Truly, he hates Communion. This pervasive mental unity that batters at his fragile walls and tears through them as one might easily carve through an overripe fruit; Ruby's terror so easily splits him, aimed right for the vulnerable core of his person — that place where so many have found purchase in these terrible caverns. His heart aches for them all, it agonizes and struggles against his own mind, his cruel nature; he wants to punish her ( all of them ) for failing to believe in him, for not looking to him alone in their times of need. He wants to punish himself, for being such a waste of a god to them all that they fled into the dark. ( He wants to be there, with them, in the dark. )

He cannot resolve her terror, but at least — maybe, she can know she is not alone in it. That someone, somewhere, screams for help that never came and never would for them, as well. As the ice in Ruby's heart splinters, it finds the core of his own heart — his own tongue falters, stills. He strangles on the words he wants to speak to her. Nothing feels right, nothing he can say will be enough. When she was with him in Meridian, he never cared for her utility or devotion — had he not said that? Could she not believe him? And he knows, now. No, she could not.

Eventually, even he would turn on her. The immutable truth in her heart would not let her see them beyond the time limit she truly believed was imposed upon them. ]

You need to hide and be safe. [ He urges that of her. ] I am not going anywhere in this life without you.

[ Often, he thinks of the divide between Meridian and Zenith — the ideological mission that drives the two is cruel, it demands they stand apart when really, they need one another. They must need one another, or the ma'at of the world will rip itself asunder long before any of them know what happened, why it happened, what the wisest and most encompassing path to walk is. ( Yet, he loves the fighting. But. Right now, he really hates the divide. There is no reason for it to exist, if it must part people who need one another. )

( Call-and-response. As she yields the numbing ache of her reality to him, in the form of family that despises her, blames her, criticizes and wishes for her death, he also cannot help the way his own pain moves to latch onto hers. A smiling, warm-eyed brother who he admired for so long, served proudly at the side of — becoming a warped, twisted stranger before his eyes. Poison in wine, numbing him from the belly outward. Hands upon him, the need to save someone he loves and lives and would rather die for. Think about what you must do? What is it that you can do?, end of the line, of course he will yield everything. His pride, his dignity, his power — even his body. A sister who sees it, she sees it all, she knows the truth and she turns her back. She looks upon him as if he deserved it. )

Not a man, not a god, not anyone Rudbeckia de Borgia could find safety in. Right? Right. ]

You know how to get to my shrine. You always have a place there.