It's easy being a tool. Follow orders, do as you're ordered, don't think, don't feel. She can't remember that life, can't remember how much it broke her down, but she's still cobbled together from the pieces left and welded back together. It's harder being a person. To feel, to think, to make decisions that can be right or wrong, to hurt and disappointment, to make things right, and do it all over again.
Ginia's eyes move from god to shinki in turn, the confusion etched into her face softening. There's a reaction to insist it's for their safety, that she couldn't live with herself if anything happened to them because of her, but what does she know? She's a shinki around for all of five months, fumbling her way through the act of existing. Five gods in five months, is that a record? No, probably not.
There's less fanfare in releasing a shinki. A few words (if that), a simple order impossible to stop, a breaking name. It's wrong forcing a shinki to keep a name if they want to be released. A shinki should be free to go as they wish. It's a generation far more ready to fight for the freedom of new shinki than for the gods.
It's the contrary streak, the side that can't help but bite back against act of kindness. Ginia swallows down the urge to rebel because no one is saying she can't leave. They are asking what she truly wants.
Is this what it's like to have a family? To belong somewhere? Ginia wants it to be as she breaks eye contact with Kiwami, a hand covering her eyes as she starts to cry.
What does she want? Isn't that a dangerous question for a shinki? To want when everything is in service of their god? When nothing is truly their own? She wants her gods safe, her temples safe, for the people around to stop hurting.
(But what do you want, Ginia? Jitsumi?)
Tears aren't always sad. Mostly, she's touched and gratful in a way she doesn't understand. Ginia takes a few deep breaths and regains her composure. She takes a step back and bows deeply to everyone around, a shyly genuine smile when she rises.
"Eibsu's shinki are the best. I need to live up to that standard. I'll be careful with the mask, I promise."
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It's easy being a tool. Follow orders, do as you're ordered, don't think, don't feel. She can't remember that life, can't remember how much it broke her down, but she's still cobbled together from the pieces left and welded back together. It's harder being a person. To feel, to think, to make decisions that can be right or wrong, to hurt and disappointment, to make things right, and do it all over again.
Ginia's eyes move from god to shinki in turn, the confusion etched into her face softening. There's a reaction to insist it's for their safety, that she couldn't live with herself if anything happened to them because of her, but what does she know? She's a shinki around for all of five months, fumbling her way through the act of existing. Five gods in five months, is that a record? No, probably not.
There's less fanfare in releasing a shinki. A few words (if that), a simple order impossible to stop, a breaking name. It's wrong forcing a shinki to keep a name if they want to be released. A shinki should be free to go as they wish. It's a generation far more ready to fight for the freedom of new shinki than for the gods.
It's the contrary streak, the side that can't help but bite back against act of kindness. Ginia swallows down the urge to rebel because no one is saying she can't leave. They are asking what she truly wants.
Is this what it's like to have a family? To belong somewhere? Ginia wants it to be as she breaks eye contact with Kiwami, a hand covering her eyes as she starts to cry.
What does she want? Isn't that a dangerous question for a shinki? To want when everything is in service of their god? When nothing is truly their own? She wants her gods safe, her temples safe, for the people around to stop hurting.
(But what do you want, Ginia? Jitsumi?)
Tears aren't always sad. Mostly, she's touched and gratful in a way she doesn't understand. Ginia takes a few deep breaths and regains her composure. She takes a step back and bows deeply to everyone around, a shyly genuine smile when she rises.
"Eibsu's shinki are the best. I need to live up to that standard. I'll be careful with the mask, I promise."