[Raine has, unlike Solomon, only bits and pieces of the context, what she's questioned out of the two of them and put together from usage. Nowhere near a complete picture of the Egypt that is Bakura's home, but... enough, she thinks, to know what's so dreadfully wrong about this.]
[She puts her coffee down on the nearby counter before it can fall from her hands or worse. Grits her teeth. And sorts through, piece by piece.]
[To be forgotten is a kind of death; to intentionally obliterate a person, let alone an entire village, from memory as well as life, is an act of cruelty. So the Items were created with the deaths of Bakura's family, and it was further compounded by assuring that no one would or could remember them. Save, of course, one very angry survivor with the capability to hold a very lethal grudge. And all appearances in the world, if she understands him right, were that it wasn't wrong; no person remembered to object and no god cried out against it. The world turned, and the slaughter was forgotten, and Bakura harbored vengeance in his heart like a slow-growing seed.]
[It is not a mystery why.]
[Raine fixes on something small, at first.] You say his son. Not he himself? [It's... odd. But it matters less compared to the rest. A headshake.]
...Never mind. I...
[It's horrific. His choice of tactics is little better, but she can see why. 'I'm sorry' is hideously inadequate; 'how could you' doesn't even enter into consideration.]
It wasn't right.
[But she hardly has to tell him that. Here is the problem: she remembers that utter certainty she had of him, early on, about his ghosts, his family. She doesn't doubt that. And she would not want to be in his way, no matter the good terms they're on now.]
[For all that, Raine finds herself strangely calm. For now.]
no subject
[She puts her coffee down on the nearby counter before it can fall from her hands or worse. Grits her teeth. And sorts through, piece by piece.]
[To be forgotten is a kind of death; to intentionally obliterate a person, let alone an entire village, from memory as well as life, is an act of cruelty. So the Items were created with the deaths of Bakura's family, and it was further compounded by assuring that no one would or could remember them. Save, of course, one very angry survivor with the capability to hold a very lethal grudge. And all appearances in the world, if she understands him right, were that it wasn't wrong; no person remembered to object and no god cried out against it. The world turned, and the slaughter was forgotten, and Bakura harbored vengeance in his heart like a slow-growing seed.]
[It is not a mystery why.]
[Raine fixes on something small, at first.] You say his son. Not he himself? [It's... odd. But it matters less compared to the rest. A headshake.]
...Never mind. I...
[It's horrific. His choice of tactics is little better, but she can see why. 'I'm sorry' is hideously inadequate; 'how could you' doesn't even enter into consideration.]
It wasn't right.
[But she hardly has to tell him that. Here is the problem: she remembers that utter certainty she had of him, early on, about his ghosts, his family. She doesn't doubt that. And she would not want to be in his way, no matter the good terms they're on now.]
[For all that, Raine finds herself strangely calm. For now.]
Then how did it end up sealed with you?