[Orga tried to avoid illusions of grandeur. They were dangerous. One could become easily ensorceled by their idealization of the future, allowing it to poison the good that they had in hand at the given moment, making the drive to achieve something outlandish so great that it pushed them into something monumentally stupid. Sure, taking a revolutionary maiden to her place to make a great stand for Mars' independence had been a lofty goal for a bunch of upstart orphans from a backwater colony, but they'd done it. Each step, however, had seemed reachable. The base, the job, the ship, the suits, the battles, the alliances - all up until their final push on Edmonton. That had been Orga's gambit, where they had bid it all, and it had paid off.
Their position back home might've seemed a few years back like a delusion, a daydream he might've had while nursing bruises gained as collateral damage of the First Corps' frustrations.
And now there was Mars.
Fareed had offered it, and despite whatever cautions he might have, Orga had accepted to help him for this prize. Perhaps the biggest delusion he could have: that one day they could own the planet that had looked upon them as garbage, that only ignored the whiskers sprouting from their backs because they feared the strength it gave them. A home for their family. A place for a throne.
Maybe somewhere, deep down, he knows that he is a fool. And a hypocritical one at that.
But in his vision of that future, on Mars, the base is secure, the ships are docked, and the mobile suits rest, ready but without much pressing need for their use, as everyone of Tekkadan extends to what might interest them, what might continue to make them strong and independent. The mines, what Kudelia was doing with the people and children in the city, and a farm that Mika could tend himself - one that could maybe produce something else from a distant sun and harsh soil. That, more than anything they had seen, felt the most like what he had promised all those years ago. That was why he had ignored his own cautions, pushing them into what might prove to be a tenuous situation.
Looking at Mika, content with the work he was doing here, feeling the squeeze of his hand before they parted once more, he thinks again that it was worth it.]
Mm. [And as he speaks, he initially seems blithe, though,] I could be, though. [ending with a slightly sly grin.
He doesn't follow through with it. He merely stands to fetch what Mika indicated. He returns with them after a moment, setting the pots down next to him, eyeing him with curiosity.]
Now?
[Does he mean start to grow some now? Plants take their sweet time, from what he recalls.]
no subject
Their position back home might've seemed a few years back like a delusion, a daydream he might've had while nursing bruises gained as collateral damage of the First Corps' frustrations.
And now there was Mars.
Fareed had offered it, and despite whatever cautions he might have, Orga had accepted to help him for this prize. Perhaps the biggest delusion he could have: that one day they could own the planet that had looked upon them as garbage, that only ignored the whiskers sprouting from their backs because they feared the strength it gave them. A home for their family. A place for a throne.
Maybe somewhere, deep down, he knows that he is a fool. And a hypocritical one at that.
But in his vision of that future, on Mars, the base is secure, the ships are docked, and the mobile suits rest, ready but without much pressing need for their use, as everyone of Tekkadan extends to what might interest them, what might continue to make them strong and independent. The mines, what Kudelia was doing with the people and children in the city, and a farm that Mika could tend himself - one that could maybe produce something else from a distant sun and harsh soil. That, more than anything they had seen, felt the most like what he had promised all those years ago. That was why he had ignored his own cautions, pushing them into what might prove to be a tenuous situation.
Looking at Mika, content with the work he was doing here, feeling the squeeze of his hand before they parted once more, he thinks again that it was worth it.]
Mm. [And as he speaks, he initially seems blithe, though,] I could be, though. [ending with a slightly sly grin.
He doesn't follow through with it. He merely stands to fetch what Mika indicated. He returns with them after a moment, setting the pots down next to him, eyeing him with curiosity.]
Now?
[Does he mean start to grow some now? Plants take their sweet time, from what he recalls.]