It is a little different, for him. If it hadn’t been leaving on a passing ship, it would’ve been a life on the farms. Not the Manor. Life on Beri didn’t offer much of a choice either. Work, or slavery, or jump on the Plousious and-

Well. Hrm. You know. Actually, maybe he did have a choice? Did he [i]have[/i] to join a Princess on a doomed voyage? Of course not. Many, many, many people chose not to join. He and Vasilia could’ve been two of them. They could’ve-

No. No, that may not be true either. There was…a wish, yes? A wish was on the line. Like how everyone on Beri was on the line. Like how his heart was on the line. 

[i]Could[/i] he have chosen differently, and still been Dolce? Did he do the difficult thing only because the alternative was worse?

Is he…never going to be able to stop? Until whatever he’s set out to do is finished?

[i]”The Diodekoi did not know that she was an engine of murder until she was activated. No scans or tests I did could discover this about her.”[/i]

He. Didn’t know what he didn’t know. His memory appeared whole, until it didn’t. He.

[i]-crik-[/i]

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

He did not know his shoulders were [i]that[/i] tight, until they weren’t.

Her coils could read his mind. Or his body. Or both? Or both. They could read sheep, and that’s how they knew exactly where to press in and work and work and [i]force[/i] the strain from his muscles.

He regards the pile of tangled, sharp thoughts.

He regards the plate of tasty looking cracker sandwiches he’d made.

”...would you mind? I don’t think I can reach. Or move my arms. For a while.”

A shuttle of deliciousness takes flight, and gently glides to its destination.

”Ah, yes, perfect. Thank you.”

There are many who wouldn’t stand for him to starve himself.

He’s not alone, after all.