The Will to Push Forward [Sloth]
It's not until he's found the opposite end of Envy -- that must be it, he thinks dully, some sort of thing based around sins -- and has hung up the hazmat suit that Phoenix lets the events of what happened out in the fields sink in properly.
Klavier... was dead. He wouldn't have had to die if Phoenix had thought to distract Kristoph better, had just thrown himself at Kristoph instead of running he damn well knew was futile in the wake of Kristoph's Eldritch movements. But he hadn't, and Klavier was now a broken body on the plains of an insane world.
And at the same time, Kristoph, too, was now dead. Phoenix was never much for advocating death as a form of justice, but he knew that at that point, it had truly come down to a matter of Kristoph or him. Phoenix could at least take some confidence in the fact that he hadn't been the one to land the blow; rather, it was Kristoph's blind obsession with gaining revenge, with "getting what was his," that had finally done him in. Another second longer, though, and Phoenix would have been a pig on a skewer.
The thoughts of such horrible deaths force him to lean against the wall a bit, dry heaving. Christ, how long has it been since he's eaten anything substantial? He'd found some water and a few bibs and bobs in one of the houses in the place before hand (Greed, obviously), but since then... Not that he has an appetite right now.
Finally, he steps out into the new place. Alone. The rain falls, and the enormity of everything sinks in, and he just wants to curl up and do nothing --
...ah. Right.
Phoenix forces his thoughts to what Kristoph never could: what he owes the world. And what he owes Klavier right now is to move on, to not be bogged down, to reach the end.
To live.
He keeps these thoughts in his mind, and the thoughts of who he has to return to, and trudges onward through the fields. At least, he forces himself to think somewhat positively, there's water here.
Klavier... was dead. He wouldn't have had to die if Phoenix had thought to distract Kristoph better, had just thrown himself at Kristoph instead of running he damn well knew was futile in the wake of Kristoph's Eldritch movements. But he hadn't, and Klavier was now a broken body on the plains of an insane world.
And at the same time, Kristoph, too, was now dead. Phoenix was never much for advocating death as a form of justice, but he knew that at that point, it had truly come down to a matter of Kristoph or him. Phoenix could at least take some confidence in the fact that he hadn't been the one to land the blow; rather, it was Kristoph's blind obsession with gaining revenge, with "getting what was his," that had finally done him in. Another second longer, though, and Phoenix would have been a pig on a skewer.
The thoughts of such horrible deaths force him to lean against the wall a bit, dry heaving. Christ, how long has it been since he's eaten anything substantial? He'd found some water and a few bibs and bobs in one of the houses in the place before hand (Greed, obviously), but since then... Not that he has an appetite right now.
Finally, he steps out into the new place. Alone. The rain falls, and the enormity of everything sinks in, and he just wants to curl up and do nothing --
...ah. Right.
Phoenix forces his thoughts to what Kristoph never could: what he owes the world. And what he owes Klavier right now is to move on, to not be bogged down, to reach the end.
To live.
He keeps these thoughts in his mind, and the thoughts of who he has to return to, and trudges onward through the fields. At least, he forces himself to think somewhat positively, there's water here.