[Plenty of Anima's victims have believed themselves to be the exception. There have been emissaries, and angry mobs. There have been worshipers, witches, clerics, and prophets. There have been soldiers and biologists and psychologists and authors and salt-bitten sailors. Foundation employees with lesser clearance, and with every level of it. More than one Director, too. Wilhelm just isn't the first Director to take a personal interest in Anima, who has long been the biggest thorn in the Foundation's side or the brightest feather in their cap. Some Directors were harsher and more authoritarian than others. Some of them wanted to conquer Anima. Others, to understand him. But, for the most part, they didn't lose sight of their objectivity in dealing with him. They weren't like the sailors who charted course for distant isles with the intent of bringing back a siren's bloody head. They weren't so motivated by the greed of a bounty, of fame, of being heroic. Director Wilhelm, unfortunately, is quite the greedy man. It seems his ship has long since run aground. In kissing Anima's fingertips, he's admitting that he has taken on water and is no less convinced of his fortunes. Anima himself tried to stay away for a time, to stop Wilhelm from repeating the same mistakes, and yet...
Yet Anima came back to this place because it's as inevitable as any jet stream. Anima had to come back because he could feel--across the vastness of space, and time, and the maze of the immaterial--that Wilhelm needed him to come back. Wilhelm's heart is pleading with him. Constantly. Quietly, but with a constant insistence. It's a dull ache in Anima's inner ear, a sort of pressure, a reminder of great altitude, that he can't seem to ignore or overcome. So he keeps on coming back, no matter how long it's been, and he keeps on setting Wilhelm on fire, even though he doesn't want to hurt Wilhelm like this. Over the years, Directors have made it a priority to see Anima bound and contained, to protect a most fledgling world from him, for the good of the natural order of things. Wilhelm seems more invested in protecting Anima from the world.]
If I tell you nothing has changed, I'm guessing you won't believe me. [Anima's eyes are still a translucent blue. His hair is still the color of whitecaps getting ready to meet the shore. And he's still in the shape of a "precocious, ectomorphic boy," with "smooth skin of indeterminate ethnicity," with such a small, hopeful smile, "as he tends to smile regardless of his mood." (His records are full of warnings about how his appearance is dangerous and misleading.)] You won't be satisfied until you have assessed me personally, and thoroughly, at that. I'm going to guess you won't allow either of us to leave this room until you have confirmed the location of each and every freckle on my skin... [It's a little frustrating. At the same time, it's a little endearing, too. He might be teasing Wilhelm a little bit.]
But I'm more interested in hearing what's changed for you.
[More than one thing has changed for Wilhelm in the time between now and then. Anima can see the truest evidence of that underneath his fingertips, both within and without.]
no subject
Yet Anima came back to this place because it's as inevitable as any jet stream. Anima had to come back because he could feel--across the vastness of space, and time, and the maze of the immaterial--that Wilhelm needed him to come back. Wilhelm's heart is pleading with him. Constantly. Quietly, but with a constant insistence. It's a dull ache in Anima's inner ear, a sort of pressure, a reminder of great altitude, that he can't seem to ignore or overcome. So he keeps on coming back, no matter how long it's been, and he keeps on setting Wilhelm on fire, even though he doesn't want to hurt Wilhelm like this. Over the years, Directors have made it a priority to see Anima bound and contained, to protect a most fledgling world from him, for the good of the natural order of things. Wilhelm seems more invested in protecting Anima from the world.]
If I tell you nothing has changed, I'm guessing you won't believe me. [Anima's eyes are still a translucent blue. His hair is still the color of whitecaps getting ready to meet the shore. And he's still in the shape of a "precocious, ectomorphic boy," with "smooth skin of indeterminate ethnicity," with such a small, hopeful smile, "as he tends to smile regardless of his mood." (His records are full of warnings about how his appearance is dangerous and misleading.)] You won't be satisfied until you have assessed me personally, and thoroughly, at that. I'm going to guess you won't allow either of us to leave this room until you have confirmed the location of each and every freckle on my skin... [It's a little frustrating. At the same time, it's a little endearing, too. He might be teasing Wilhelm a little bit.]
But I'm more interested in hearing what's changed for you.
[More than one thing has changed for Wilhelm in the time between now and then. Anima can see the truest evidence of that underneath his fingertips, both within and without.]