[That was rather his point: God doesn't know anything. There is no plan, no rhyme or reason, no vengeful spirit or heavenly father. There is only whatever can be touched, whatever can bleed, gasp in breath, hurt and die. There are only those with power over others and those over whom power is held. Slevin will give up nothing like power over himself willingly, not even a smidgen, not even belief: if he fails, if he succeeds, if he hopes, if he despairs, it's his. It's on him. No one else.
This is very important. He can't remember why.
He doesn't know what's happening, now, but he doesn't dare resist, not with Cassel's hands so close to his skin; he doesn't even breathe, his muscles frozen where they are all that are wrapped around his bones, painfully tight but still his, still his for just a few moments longer, still...
He makes a small, torn sound, the remnants of words through his closed throat. He stands, confused and terrified, he doesn't remember what this is, doesn't know what he's supposed to do, if he's supposed to fight, if that will make it worse, he doesn't know, he doesn't know-
And then, abruptly, he does. He remembers that he knew what hugs were, once upon a time, there were even people that would have done so: he shudders violently, and realizes that even if he's wrong, even if it makes no sense, he's at the absolute end of his rope. He doesn't know what's at the bottom of the drop, but he knows he's right there, knows he's going to find out sooner rather than later, and that terrifies him as much as not knowing.
He makes the sound again, arms raising stiffly, and then all at once he's just hugging back.]
Spam
This is very important. He can't remember why.
He doesn't know what's happening, now, but he doesn't dare resist, not with Cassel's hands so close to his skin; he doesn't even breathe, his muscles frozen where they are all that are wrapped around his bones, painfully tight but still his, still his for just a few moments longer, still...
He makes a small, torn sound, the remnants of words through his closed throat. He stands, confused and terrified, he doesn't remember what this is, doesn't know what he's supposed to do, if he's supposed to fight, if that will make it worse, he doesn't know, he doesn't know-
And then, abruptly, he does. He remembers that he knew what hugs were, once upon a time, there were even people that would have done so: he shudders violently, and realizes that even if he's wrong, even if it makes no sense, he's at the absolute end of his rope. He doesn't know what's at the bottom of the drop, but he knows he's right there, knows he's going to find out sooner rather than later, and that terrifies him as much as not knowing.
He makes the sound again, arms raising stiffly, and then all at once he's just hugging back.]