[Anomaly. It's a word Rip has heard countless times before, when being handed down mission briefings, instructions on where he was to head next, what problem within the timeline he was meant to fix. The term would apply to Frisk in the context of Rip's universe too. What they can do, what they can cause. They would be just as watched by the Time Council as the speedsters had been.
Perhaps taken advantage of, for their naivety. Especially if they were alone.]
The ones who trained me—they made us all believe in the sanctity of what we were doing. [From childhood on, when orphans plucked from time were given homes and food and warmth.] That it was the highest calling any person could answer. That protecting time was so important, even life itself was secondary.
I don't think I've ever been able to believe that fully, even if my actions speak otherwise. [Those Rip has left to die, turned his back on when he could save them—it never felt fully right, even if he rationalized it so.] What responsibility you have—that, I cannot tell you, I'm afraid. It may be true, or it may not be.
And in the end, it may not matter. [He shifts, sits up a bit straighter. Seems appropriate, given the weight of their conversation.] Because you have this ability, you have to choose what to do with it. Whether out of responsibility or love or a desire to save someone—you have to make the choice you can carry the weight of, and there are never easy answers. Saving one person may cause the death of another. Saving a town may lead to the destruction of a world.
The horrible truth is that there is almost never a purely right choice to make.
no subject
Perhaps taken advantage of, for their naivety. Especially if they were alone.]
The ones who trained me—they made us all believe in the sanctity of what we were doing. [From childhood on, when orphans plucked from time were given homes and food and warmth.] That it was the highest calling any person could answer. That protecting time was so important, even life itself was secondary.
I don't think I've ever been able to believe that fully, even if my actions speak otherwise. [Those Rip has left to die, turned his back on when he could save them—it never felt fully right, even if he rationalized it so.] What responsibility you have—that, I cannot tell you, I'm afraid. It may be true, or it may not be.
And in the end, it may not matter. [He shifts, sits up a bit straighter. Seems appropriate, given the weight of their conversation.] Because you have this ability, you have to choose what to do with it. Whether out of responsibility or love or a desire to save someone—you have to make the choice you can carry the weight of, and there are never easy answers. Saving one person may cause the death of another. Saving a town may lead to the destruction of a world.
The horrible truth is that there is almost never a purely right choice to make.