Behind Blue Eyes

When Flora looks at Minoth, she seems to stare directly into his soul.

He doesn't know how she does it - how could she possibly know him that deeply?

It's not her lot in life to take a Blade, to train herself against that standard.

She's not the one who's meant to fix him, if that's even what he needs.

But she doesn't disapprove of his anger, still. She doesn't look lostly at him, nor admonish the way he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the sound of his old Driver's name.

So he loves her with that anger. So he protects her with that raw feeling.

In the dark, his ether lines are feeble. He is not the creature, the beast, he once was.

Of course she doesn't mind that. Of course she doesn't want that.

They both want answers. They both hate uncertainty. Oh, everyone does, but they hate it like an enemy.

Coming as they both did from people who wrapped themselves in blankets of lies, uncaring of those who slipped in underneath, the evil is quite palpable.

Oh, indeed. They hate, they fight, they love the bitter, cold truth.

So he smiles at her when she gets angry, and watches her deep blue eyes play with frigid amusement, as she tries yet again to figure him out.