[If they had been more rational, more honorable, more like Atem - they would have done a better job. Mukuro knows, Junko was so smart, she could have figured something else out. But she'd wanted to cause as much damage as possible. She wanted everyone turning on each other, she wanted the system to tear itself apart, she wanted blood and ashes and utter despair. Because none of it was worth saving. Not to her, not anymore. She wanted everyone to finally understand how horrible everything was. She wanted them all to hurt like she did. It wasn't heroic, they were no avenging angels - it was revenge. Lashing out when stressed passed their breaking point, like a volcanic erupting wiping out civilization.
Junko wanted them all to suffer, and Mukuro would do anything she asked. Because Junko felt so much, too much, and Mukuro felt nothing at all.
She feels some of the tension ebb out of her as Atem sits. She isn't frightened of him, and she hadn't expected an attack - even explaining herself, she knows, wouldn't make him break his own moral code. He isn't a threat. But even so, it's hard to turn off those automatic defenses, especially when she's putting herself back in that mindset. And she knows it's intentional. Atem moves with purpose, and he's been clearly going out of his way to be careful with her.
Mukuro sighs, and finally lifts her eyes to his as he speaks. She doesn't smile, but her face softens just a bit.]
...Right. It's - okay.
[He's forgiven. He wasn't himself, and neither was she.]
I'm not - a good person. I know that. I'm not trying to pretend that I was. It wasn't - to fix things. It was to destroy it. All of it. Even if we didn't do that much directly, that was always the goal. I get why an angel would want to fight me, too.
[A similarly lighter-toned response. She's not as curled in on herself and defensive, anymore. Her tail and ears are still low, but more a tired droop than tense pinning back. There are still things she didn't answer yet, though. She hasn't forgotten his questions, even if he doesn't mean them as intensely anymore.]
I don't regret most of what I did, even if I know it wasn't right. But - s-some - I do. Hurting - our classmates. Celeste, Komaeda. And - the massacre at Giboura. ...It was a test. Junko was - upset. That I left. So I had to - prove I was s-still - loyal, and - that I could do it.
no subject
Junko wanted them all to suffer, and Mukuro would do anything she asked. Because Junko felt so much, too much, and Mukuro felt nothing at all.
She feels some of the tension ebb out of her as Atem sits. She isn't frightened of him, and she hadn't expected an attack - even explaining herself, she knows, wouldn't make him break his own moral code. He isn't a threat. But even so, it's hard to turn off those automatic defenses, especially when she's putting herself back in that mindset. And she knows it's intentional. Atem moves with purpose, and he's been clearly going out of his way to be careful with her.
Mukuro sighs, and finally lifts her eyes to his as he speaks. She doesn't smile, but her face softens just a bit.]
...Right.
It's - okay.
[He's forgiven. He wasn't himself, and neither was she.]
I'm not - a good person. I know that. I'm not trying to pretend that I was.
It wasn't - to fix things. It was to destroy it. All of it. Even if we didn't do that much directly, that was always the goal.
I get why an angel would want to fight me, too.
[A similarly lighter-toned response. She's not as curled in on herself and defensive, anymore. Her tail and ears are still low, but more a tired droop than tense pinning back. There are still things she didn't answer yet, though. She hasn't forgotten his questions, even if he doesn't mean them as intensely anymore.]
I don't regret most of what I did, even if I know it wasn't right. But - s-some - I do.
Hurting - our classmates. Celeste, Komaeda. And - the massacre at Giboura.
...It was a test.
Junko was - upset. That I left. So I had to - prove I was s-still - loyal, and - that I could do it.