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Sailor Taranis had enough respect for Castor to sit and listen through the entire story. His eyes only moved once, and that was to glance down to the thing that had been created in the senshi of hail's hands. A flower. A flower. Castor spoke of Linarite like she was a girl from a different social circle on the playground, not like she was a corrupted soul who embodied everything that they stood against.

"Castor, we were born to this life," he said at last. Until the words left his mouth, he wasn't entirely sure what was going to come out of him. "There was no choosing sides for us. The Negaverse has a choice. They are not born; they are created."

The details of how a person becomes an agent of the Negaverse had never been something that Taranis fully understood. He came to know more about it in bits and pieces, sometimes from Negas themselves, sometimes even right before they died. Taranis had killed before, mostly youma, but he had downed two Negas, even if one had inadvertently caused her own death. He did not doubt that he had the power inside of himself to do it again, even to a person that one of his closest senshi friends claimed to love.

Still, Taranis was a scholar of debate. He put aside his need to win in that moment in lieu of finding common ground with the estranged senshi on the swing. "Whoever she was before, that is not who she is now. And before you say 'I know that' please remember that I saw you kissing. If that weakness exists in you, then you will never be able to kill her. Not ever. And I won't see you die at her hands. We need all the power on our side that we can get." It was an objective stating of facts. Castor was an eternal senshi, and there weren't too many of those lying around the streets of Destiny City.

Having made his attempt at common ground, Taranis steeled himself to his own rage that bubbled in his stomach. "You want to save your corrupted princess? Fine. Do it by Christmas. After that, we're activating every senshi we know to hunt her down. If she was able to get that close to you, then she already knows too much. Love or not, that is a liability that we cannot afford." He tried to sit up, but the pain in his ribs kept him prone. His eyes settled on the melting daisy.

One boot raised and Taranis dropped it suddenly, shattering the ice sculpture where it sat. "No more fairytales, Castor. We don't have time for fairytales. She is not Sleeping Beauty. Your kiss is not going to wake her up from this. She is corrupted. There is no going back." He dragged his heel across the ground, smashing the last few remnants for good measure. If Castor let himself be blinded by love, then they would never win. He needed to snap out of it -- and now.