It was easier this way. It was like breathing instead of choking, something cold soothing the warm terror. It was like narrowing the mind from the whirling, raging chaos, placing it in a cool corridor of ice. But for now, he lidded his eyes with it, the shield which so seldom broke or cracked. He could not have clarity. He could not have clarity and keep it together at the same time. It was impossible. It clawed at the soul, scathing, posing question to which he had no answers. He should face them - had to, sooner or later - but what was the point of facing them if he could not make sense of them, if he could not hold himself together and study them? He saw none; none, and it crippled him, his lack of understanding of this spectrum of emotions. So he swallowed, glacial, unmoving, entire body covered in a thin sheet of ice which held him in. From saddened, lost, and confused, he turned into a statue, cooler than usual. Where smiles usually played, there was only chill.

Tempt death. The wheels began to turn. They whirred and whizzed, spun, but nothing showed on his smooth, cold surface. Could it be..? It was. He could've winced, kicked himself, done all sorts of things, but he just stood there, silent and unmovable like the glaciers themselves. And of all stupid things to happen, he had the urge to say that he'd just wanted to see the truth of it - see the limits of his power. He had enough sense to understand that Kou would not approve of that answer though, and without even a sigh he shifted slightly, to stare at the forest around them. Somewhere lay a pool red as blood, and a mare who raised the dead resided here.

He had nothing to say. No explanation, except the obvious stupid truth. No defense, for what was the point of defending? Her words were true, and somewhere deep inside he felt shattered, tired, heavy and broken, but it did not stir the surface of his thoughts. They remained like a pond on a breezeless day, unmoved. Do I think? Yes. But not in ways he could explain. How can one explain the certainty, the arrogance and confidence, which fueled some actions?

How can one make a marble statue apologize, or even find its tongue and speak?

Silence, that was all he said, lost beneath the surface of ice. He had no idea what to say. Couldn't process the statements. He knew. Cared. Would die for them if need be - though hopefully under more heroic circumstances. The one who would suffer the backlash of their politics was he; he'd be branded racist and shunned by the hippies. That was the way of things. Behead the snake and sew the body onto the new one and pray there won't be a revolution. "I care," he heard his distant voice say, found his guarded, stony eyes slipping back to her. "But what the hell do you want me to say about it? I can't turn back time, Kou." I touched him and I lived.

It wasn't at all what he had planned to say.
But it was what came out of his mouth.