Eventually he does wake. He half walks, half stumbles into the room while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His nose twitches absently, scenting the room before he comments.
"Um... sure." There seems to be something slightly off about the way she's moving. He decides it would be better to hear what she says and see what she does before commenting on it.
She takes a deep breath. Making tea is automatic. Nothing she needs to think about. Which is lucky, because there is not much thinking going on at the moment.
She knows she is coward for not turning around.
“Two of the friends that came by are demons. They noticed I’d changed right away.” Coward, she accuses herself.
"I thought that... that maybe that was just..." He sits there, blinking for a moment. How had he managed to gloss over that part? "I thought that was only the way they worded it originally because you were in the coma. But if... if... when did you lose it?! During the ritual? Oh gods... oh shit."
He's quickly climbed the gradient of reaction from 'what the heck' to nearly hysterical. Somewhere along the line he stood up and started pacing. His breathing is fast, nearly to the point of hyperventilation.
He ignores the pleas to calm down. He's too locked into panic mode.
"Your soul, Aya. You gambled with your soul. The thing that's supposed to stick around after your body fades, the thing that's supposed to be the core of you and it... it... Oh hells."
He's still pacing. His hands are clenching at his hair now.
He doesn't stop her. He hardly even notices the action at first. There is a knotting, heavy feeling in his stomach. He might be sick soon. As nasty as the feeling is it's concrete and he concentrates on it in order to calm the swirling mass in his head.
"What... it... do you think there's a any to get it back? Anyway to revive it? I mean, I know the words said dead but..."
...but it can't be over. He thinks. Not you. Not like this.
"Had some visitors lately?"
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She turns to make tea. And so she doesn't have to look at him while she tries to figure out how exactly to tell him she doesn't have a soul.
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She knows she is coward for not turning around.
“Two of the friends that came by are demons. They noticed I’d changed right away.” Coward, she accuses herself.
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Who knows, maybe these guys had some kind of useful knowledge to contribute.
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She slowly and deliberately puts down the tea things, and turn back to sit at the table.
She take more time than is necessary pulling in her chair.
She is very careful not to touch him. Not at all. No matter how much she wants to reach out.
She looks into his eyes.
She enunciates carefully, “I don’t have a soul.”
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"...What?"
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"'I welcome the spirit into this body that lives with a soul that is dead.'
"I don't have a soul."
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He's quickly climbed the gradient of reaction from 'what the heck' to nearly hysterical. Somewhere along the line he stood up and started pacing. His breathing is fast, nearly to the point of hyperventilation.
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She hurriedly gets up and goes over to him, as if she can hide her hesitation.
"Ginta, please..." Please, what? "You're breathing too heavily. Try to calm down."
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"Your soul, Aya. You gambled with your soul. The thing that's supposed to stick around after your body fades, the thing that's supposed to be the core of you and it... it... Oh hells."
He's still pacing. His hands are clenching at his hair now.
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"What... it... do you think there's a any to get it back? Anyway to revive it? I mean, I know the words said dead but..."
...but it can't be over. He thinks. Not you. Not like this.
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"I don't know. I don't know."
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He keeps repeating similar phrases to himself. Maybe that would make them true. He couldn't fathom any other possibilities. It was beyond him.
Moisture had been stinging at the corners or his eyes ever since the hysteria started. He doesn't even notice when it starts streaking down his face.
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She forgets she has a handkercheif and reaches out to wipe away his tears with her fingers.
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