You cannot exist in the Hells without recognising fear, and you cannot be of the Hells without reveling in it. A part of Zerxus always does.
The rest thrills instead at the defiance, and the deepest core of him basks in the point black refusal to rise to violence.
It makes a striking and deeply disconcerting picture; those eyes, hallow flames of fury except his expression is downright tender. The flames, too, are suddenly more of a caress than a thread.
Finally, he heaves a ragged sigh and lets all of it go - all of it save that tight grip on Steve's hand.
"It's not about deserving." His voice sounds human again, raspy with both pain and exhaustion, but he's enunciating with the same steady strength; it must be costing him. "This is just - my life, it's been my life for centuries." There's no use in wasting outrage or horror over it, especially not -
"You're still human. You're still whole, even if it doesn't feel like it." His voice shudders, by the end of that.
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The rest thrills instead at the defiance, and the deepest core of him basks in the point black refusal to rise to violence.
It makes a striking and deeply disconcerting picture; those eyes, hallow flames of fury except his expression is downright tender. The flames, too, are suddenly more of a caress than a thread.
Finally, he heaves a ragged sigh and lets all of it go - all of it save that tight grip on Steve's hand.
"It's not about deserving." His voice sounds human again, raspy with both pain and exhaustion, but he's enunciating with the same steady strength; it must be costing him. "This is just - my life, it's been my life for centuries." There's no use in wasting outrage or horror over it, especially not -
"You're still human. You're still whole, even if it doesn't feel like it." His voice shudders, by the end of that.