[ heine was not one to make many promises and those that were made usually followed through with triggers pulled. but there was once a promise of freedom, of breaking the collars and the proverbial hold, that hiss of command that still echoed in his mind, that sickeningly sweet keening of the old hag; it would have never been literal, their desired freedom. if he thought about it now, he wouldn't understand what anyone was thinking, dreaming of such stupid fantasies.

and yet he fell into that dream the hardest back then, did he? so willingly showing his belly before it all went under in agonizing blackred.

he knew better now, didn't he.

but that is how he has always been, ever since bishop picked up a broken piece - a blur of white edges, paperthin and fading from then and a never-fully now.

for a moment, heine stares, moves a question into distant eyes and frowns. the idea was almost laughable and there is so much ease in the inclusive manner rin gives that it is...unsettling. ] Right. And what do you see me doing with those, anyway? [ do you see him being a farmer? tending the garden in soil-stained gloves and a smile? the hell was the point in that?

he'd kill the thing and it would just be his luck. a glance at his hands, long steady fingers ghostpale and clean. only in visual.

had he fulfilled his promise? had he set them all free? maybe things like them would only truly be free in that very singular way. a torn end of an artificial life. ] No. I can't. Going back anytime soon won't change them being long dead.

[ long dead but alive in the haunt of his memory. in einsturzen's twisted clones that look too much like lily.

maybe he would be able to keep his to naoto; we are each other's last resorts, and all that. but that was what his promises should only be for. bullets and carnage. ]