[Olivine... does not have the heart to tell him how weird Kleinster's politics are. they don't show up as much in the handling of criminals related to their territory anyway, probably.]
I do. [his questions earn a softer smile, and he has to wonder what kind of life Neuvillette has led thus far, being so distant from something he finds so natural. actually, he reminds Olivine a little of Blade, struggling to learn how humans work (let alone how his own emotions do) without any assistance at all.] And... I do regret when I can't help someone, but it feels like I "should" be able to. It's easy to do, when you think back on how you could have allocated your resources to better help more people. But guilt isn't a part of it. Guilt is a heavy thing to bear, the knowledge that you had the ability to help someone, but chose not to. We cannot spend our lives wondering how much of our resources we should reserve, just in case something else comes up; it's far more rare that a change would have allowed more assistance than it is that you could never have been able at all.
Moreover... we have no control over someone else. I can offer everything someone needs, but if they're not ready to take the steps to use it, no amount of assistance will solve the problem. Those people... I feel sorrow for, and I hope that their hearts and God will guide them to their wishes in the future.
[that soft expression turns into something rather akin to a beaming smile, warm and kind.] Yes, it is rewarding. I don't know whether it's noble, but it makes me feel happy and that's enough for me. Many of our young children have no one to teach them otherwise, whether their parents are working or passed from some tragedy, but all deserve the same opportunities and respect, I think.
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I do. [his questions earn a softer smile, and he has to wonder what kind of life Neuvillette has led thus far, being so distant from something he finds so natural. actually, he reminds Olivine a little of Blade, struggling to learn how humans work (let alone how his own emotions do) without any assistance at all.] And... I do regret when I can't help someone, but it feels like I "should" be able to. It's easy to do, when you think back on how you could have allocated your resources to better help more people. But guilt isn't a part of it. Guilt is a heavy thing to bear, the knowledge that you had the ability to help someone, but chose not to. We cannot spend our lives wondering how much of our resources we should reserve, just in case something else comes up; it's far more rare that a change would have allowed more assistance than it is that you could never have been able at all.
Moreover... we have no control over someone else. I can offer everything someone needs, but if they're not ready to take the steps to use it, no amount of assistance will solve the problem. Those people... I feel sorrow for, and I hope that their hearts and God will guide them to their wishes in the future.
[that soft expression turns into something rather akin to a beaming smile, warm and kind.] Yes, it is rewarding. I don't know whether it's noble, but it makes me feel happy and that's enough for me. Many of our young children have no one to teach them otherwise, whether their parents are working or passed from some tragedy, but all deserve the same opportunities and respect, I think.