For a long moment, Mikleo offers up no response; the question doesn't click, drifting about in the fog of his mind. He hadn't really been listening to the specifics of the ritual, had rather been awaiting keywords for any order directed at him. That's the purpose of his existence, now, so what's the point in anything but that?
The praetor clears his throat meaningfully, more for Sorey than for him, but it still makes Mikleo stir slightly and lift his head, looking at the trainee in front of him instead of staring blankly at the ground. He looks so... earnest, expectant. Desiring an answer, but to what...? Mikleo struggles to think of what he might say in response if he were himself, but he can't remember anymore. Who was he? What was he like? And what does he "feel like", exactly?
He doesn't feel like anything. Isn't that the point?
He wonders, churning the words over in his head, but the answers don't come. "I don't... understand," he finally responds, for lack of anything better. It wasn't an order. He doesn't know what they want from him.
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2017-03-31 06:43 am (UTC)The praetor clears his throat meaningfully, more for Sorey than for him, but it still makes Mikleo stir slightly and lift his head, looking at the trainee in front of him instead of staring blankly at the ground. He looks so... earnest, expectant. Desiring an answer, but to what...? Mikleo struggles to think of what he might say in response if he were himself, but he can't remember anymore. Who was he? What was he like? And what does he "feel like", exactly?
He doesn't feel like anything. Isn't that the point?
He wonders, churning the words over in his head, but the answers don't come. "I don't... understand," he finally responds, for lack of anything better. It wasn't an order. He doesn't know what they want from him.