[attr="class","dec2"]Watches Nero casually blurt out his life story

Celes seemed to struggle with the thought of moving her hand away from her weapon. Honestly, that was the most sane response, Nero thought, as he silently watched her decide whether or not it was safe to trust him. He’d shown her just how easily he could fly off of the handle, after all. One wrong word, one wrong movement, and the Tsviet simply lost control of his thoughts and actions. Not that he wanted such a thing to happen -- it was just the natural response he’d learned from years of living among the unpredictable.

The woman dropped her hand from her sword and visibly relaxed, minutely enough for him to notice. Nero looked away from her for a moment, turning his gaze to the short grass swaying in the darkness. A part of him relaxed as well, suddenly aware that she was unlikely to turn her weapon or magic against him in retaliation. Another part of him admonished her, just as much as he had when she’d failed to kill him, but the thoughts quickly flitted away. He was too tired to be angry.

”You’re wrong. I don’t have much else to do, and I want to hear the rest. It's not like I have much room to judge.”

The Sable pulled his head up and looked to Celes again, his eyebrows furrowed in soft confusion. Just like himself, she seemed to have completely switched to a different mood. She was no longer standing proud and strong, brimming with the ability to throw him to the ground and nearly kill him. Something had changed in Celes, just as it had him in the last few minutes. He stared at her with curious eyes, silently waiting for her to elaborate.

”I’m a product of science myself, actually. My empire discovered magic and just couldn’t resist injecting it directly into my blood. They did it before I could remember, and here I am. Their tool for war though they likely regretted it. The process turned the other candidate into a madman, and I joined the resistance before long. They’d have done better if they hadn’t bothered.”

Life glimmered slowly back into Nero’s eyes as Celes told her story. It sounded horrifically familiar; someone forced into being an experiment for the army. How many people had come to Deepground against their will? Too many to count, and some of them didn’t last long, unable to hold up against those who were born into it. The fact remained, though, this woman understood in a way that no one else he’d run into could. While they were far from alike -- she was strong and stable, while he was clearly a psychopath and -- perhaps she had seen through to him the entire time, and that’s why Celes hadn’t killed him when she had the chance?

”So whatever you have to say, I’d love to hear it. One ’ex-military experimental soldier’ to another?”

She was staring not just at him, but into him. In her gaze was a challenge, waiting for him to take her up on her request. Nero blinked a few times, gaze flickering about as he decided what would be best. Would it be healthy, to explain himself to this woman, and perhaps find temporary comfort in a stranger? Or would it well up the worst within him, and turn upon them both?

Nero ran a hand through his thick hair, the fingers of his other hand holding so tightly to his cloak they threatened to turn white.

“I was born into this life,” the Tsviet finally admitted, releasing the held breath in his chest, “In a facility called Deepground, that was once used as a hospital for injured Soldiers. The government closed it off, covered it up, and used it for experiments instead. To create an army of Soldiers even more powerful than the ones currently serving in the army.”

“Some people were brought into the facility and experimented on. Others, like myself and my brother, were experimented on in utero,” Nero looked back to Celes, before holding up his hand, letting the dark tendrils of oblivion, his darkness, curl around his fingers and down his arms, “Which is how I became cursed to have this power. It killed my mother, as soon as I was born. The scientists who made me this way feared me, they confined me to a suit to control me, and forced me to learn how to use this power to kill other people as early as possible. We fought to the death to gain rank in Deepground, we were only allowed out of the facility for dangerous missions. It’s all I have ever known.”

From a young age, Nero had known what he was. A monster, carefully crafted to know the worst of the ins and outs of humanity. They told him that constantly, after all. Whispered what an awful being he was to each other as they set up trials for him, or experimented on him to see why he was the only success out of a pile of aborted fetuses. The memories no longer held pain for the Sable, though -- they were just life. He’d always had a light, after all, despite the darkness he was born into.

“My brother, however,” Nero smiled, as small as it was, it was pleasant and happy, “He was strong, stronger than any of those mad men could have ever expected. He fought through every obstacle they put up to keep us chained. Deepground never broke him, and though I am far inferior to him, he still loved me. And promised we’d someday be free to find our paradise.”

His smile was quick to disappear, back underneath his typical frown. The Tsviet sighed loudly, gesturing toward the landscape around them with one tired hand, “I don’t believe this is quite what he had in mind. And I can’t locate him to find out.”

Freedom was nice, there was no denying that. Nero could wake day after day and breathe fresh air, he could watch the sun rise and fall, and bask in the moonlight. All things that he previously couldn’t while confined under Deepground’s impenetrable plate. Sometimes, in moments of clarity, the Sable could enjoy those moments for extremely brief periods of time. He could appreciate something as silly as a flower, or the taste of coffee. Simple, human things he’d never gotten to admire before.

But, those moments were always quickly mired in a fog, dragged underneath the surface and into the darkness of despair when he remembered that Weiss was not by his side, to enjoy such things as well. He knew that Weiss would enjoy such simple things as well -- after all, they’d enjoyed such simple things as a warm embrace and quiet, comforting words. Though Nero hardly knew how typical people behaved, he could assume that Celes behaved like a normal person would. Even Weiss struggled to behave as if he hadn’t been tortured his entire life. But Celes, despite being from a life similar to his own, seemed … sane.

Nero looked back to Celes, a question already on his tongue, a force of pure curiosity that he couldn’t stop, “How are you … How are you so normal?”