the turn in his mood hadn't been intended in the slightest. that never was the case no matter what situation he was in. kuja was passionate when it came to the really important facets of his life, the ones that were very much dire to him, and he was aware that outbursts did happen, even if they disrupted his overall image. it was easier to grit his teeth and bare with the flood when that happened, keeping it all locked in until he had a safer, better outlet to unleash it all out. he didn't care very much about what lowlifes thought of him, but keeping up his persona with the people he needed to control was more important than, say, trying not to be angry at his own golems when they made a mistake. they were his own creations, yes, but he had no respect for them, no desire to keep them alive since he could mass produce them without any trouble. he had never once thought of himself as mass produced until the truth had come out and said otherwise. kuja wasn't any different from the rest of the genomes, and garland didn't care very much for him either after he'd gone off on his own devices, or even long before then, if he wanted to be more accurate than that. he had almost died
knowing that he was no different, not from garland, not from the other genomes, not from anyone. and it had mad him so angry his whole world had turned red. that shift in color had given him one of the greatest gifts, but it had also almost taken away the thing he was sure he couldn't be without until he was told otherwise.
he didn't wish to sour their little meetup, whatever it was supposed to be besides a picnic. part of him wished to stop talking altogether and just sit in silence so he could think and be alone with what all was going on in his head. he had no plans for them from the start, really, and wasn't that such a departure from the norm? he had to keep it contained, though, even if his stomach was starting to not want any of the food anymore, even if he would rather just get up and leave at the very moment. it wasn't anything that enkidu had done; this just happened to him whether he wished it to or not, which he never did. feeling so out of his skin made him sick. "i commend you for wanting to make an attempt," he replied. kuja definitely could not say the same for himself, not in the slightest. even if he did come out of this on top and better than ever, he didn't think he would be seeking many people out for friendships and the like. it was a slow unravel, like taking himself apart and then putting everything back together differently. he needed to fit into the same shape, but the pieces were all wrong and some of them were just gone. the old him would have laughed at him if he saw himself like this. "so perspective," he said, the corners of his lips upturning. he'd played a part before in the past so he could do it now. he could pretend that there was nothing wrong with him at the moment. "but i suppose that's an easy thing to guess, wouldn't you say?" kuja almost wished the conversation would take that turn, but also he wasn't sure he could handle someone speaking to him so, especially not enkidu. enkidu would be kind and sweet about it. kuja didn't want kind; he wanted something that could make him forget.
which is what made him feel so surprised when enkidu finally did compliment him in a way that was sort of unexpected. of course, he'd been given praise over his mannerisms before, and it was the one thing he was still proud of in a sense, the one thing that had stayed with him despite his more - traumatic - recent past. "flowery, huh," he said idly, more to himself than enkidu. that was one way to put it, he guessed. it was just that he enjoyed theatrics, whether they be on stage or otherwise. he enjoyed poetry and drama and elegance, and he wasn't about to make himself be anything other than that, even if he was unhappy with his lot in life currently. when was the last time he'd even gone to see a play? it felt like it'd been years. had he any money to go, he probably would have by now just to take his mind off of everything. god, he really had fallen, hadn't he? from being on top of the world to being in the dirt. that sounded about right. all the old epics needed some of kind downfall in the end, a villain to be shoved away and forgotten about so the heroes could bask in their triumph. he was the villain in his story, in more ways than one. the audience always forgot about the antagonist in the end. "i've not heard someone phrase it quite like that before." looking down at the ground and his own hands, kuja's eyes caught sight of a flower nearby, and the temptation to pick it flooded him for a second, though not because he wanted it for himself. he wasn't really into flowers for decoration, more because they would always die no matter how much a person could care for them, and he didn't like to see something so shriveled up and ugly within his space. without looking back to enkidu, kuja asked, "tell me, enkidu. do you enjoy flowers?" he was curious, though enkidu seemed like that type anyway, more of an earth child than he could be, more willing to lay in the sun and be content with so, so little.