[Shulk turns his head sharply, staring at Crow with a bright gold eye and stiffening in the mer's hold. If Crow's trying to intimidate him, it's not going to work - the harpy bites back, snarling.

Because Crow is wrong. They have no control over their forms, their lives. Making a choice, as manipulated as they are, how often their hands are forced, it's hardly a choice at all. The gods are pulling the strings, and he and Crow and everyone else, they're marching along the path laid out for them.]

Of course I care!

[He pauses, breathing harsh.]

But you...you're both asking me to do nothing, when this might be the best chance we have! As if there's time to wait for another way to show itself.

[He can already feel a retort to that coming, and he squirms, trying to edge Crow off.

Bitterness crawling up his throat, because of course Crow would think of alternatives. He had them, back home. Had a powerful and good god, willing to aid the Signers. Here they only have themselves to rely on, and with how they've struggled...feelings of hopelessness creep into his chest.]

You just -- you don't understand.