We didn't have an alternative. Even in the best case scenario, if everyone had acknowledged he couldn't have done it, who would the vote have gone for? Wild guessing and speculation?
[He shrugs slightly.]
I would've voted for myself, in either case. Better that than run the risk of catching an innocent in the crossfire.
Yeah, well, you're still a fucking moron and I'm still furious in your general direction. Not at you. Just around you.
[there's no heat to this, though, and it's not even a really good rebuttal. she just doesn't know how to deal with the very Big emotions she is feeling, as always. she is very carefully not looking at him.]
Yes, well. I just spent a solid eight bells weighing out whether they'd be my last on this plane of existence so let's at least both contend with our emotions while we have chicken nuggets, shall we?
[Like. Normally when he does something stupid and self-sacrificing he doesn't have eight whole hours to wait on a knife's edge contemplating it, you know what I mean.]
[ooooh, she hates that sentence! she hates it a whole lot! he makes a joke out of it and this time she does punch him, but not in the face or anything. she just slugs him in the arm and heads off to the food court, in that sort of Very Fast manner like she's trying to outrun her emotions.
yeah!! okay!! chicken nuggets sure!! she's not upset you are!!]
[You would not believe how many PCs I'm in right now that are literally just people upset at him for being stupid as hell and tbh that's how I know I'm doing it right.
Anyway. Off to the food court, where he is going to serve himself at least a 40-piece of nuggets.]
she flops down at a table, and doesn't eat. she doesn't stop him from doing it, though.]
No. [she says, like a brat. and then, with a hint of that insecurity that's been plaguing everybody all week:] If you thought it was any of my business, you'd tell me.
The fact that you so much as catch a whiff of an implication that I've kissed someone and run screaming in the other direction might have something to do with that.
[He positions his nuggets within prime steal-able range, and proceeds to start eating. They're soggy and overprocessed and the milkshake is too sweet. The perfect meal for the moment.]
[oh, that absolutely kicks her ass, and she has an almost physical response to it, her face going red in a mix of embarrassment and maybe a little bit of anger, and she doesn't even think before she snaps:]
If that were true, you wouldn't have been so ready to hop off the fucking ledge for him to leave me behind.
[which is horrendously vulnerable and embarrassing, and very unfair. she knows that, which is why she looks away.]
If you think I didn't consider what it would do to you —
[There are not enough chicken nuggets in the world to cope with this. She is being unfair. So was he, bells earlier. This whole damned thing is unfair, and maybe that's why it's hell.]
...Who would you have voted for, if we hadn't pinned down Scaramouche when we did?
That you've never seen me do the same for you, or for Harrow, is purely a consequence of the fact that neither of you have ever come under suspicion. But if your sword had matched the hole in Chandra's throat? If the mob were ever to turn on you?
[she exhales shakily, her leg jittering, bouncing up and down as she thinks about that. she thinks about what harrowhark said to her, about how she didn't need another body, she didn't need one more grave. gideon thinks that has merit. she understands, finally, or at least - she's starting to.
with a casual little sniff, like her voice isn't wet:]
I told you, I don't want that. [she says, and she looks at him, gold eyes bright as always.] Everybody who has ever cared about me or Harrow is dead, because of us. I'm so fucking sick of it.
[so then don't go through with it, she thinks, but she knows that won't work. she knows because she's the same, because she would die every time to save someone she loves. she's right there, elbow deep in that same sort of love through protection, devotion. tank behavior.
she looks down, this time, at the ground. she feels selfish and guilty and useless and none of those are particularly new emotions for her, but very rarely have they choked her up like this. maybe because she finally has something to lose.]
What is he to you, then?
[because that feels better than saying nobody ever wants to stay.]
What was it we said, earlier this week? "In a place like this, someone yours in a manner unique to you and only you"?
[He hasn't eaten his nuggets in a while, but there are still so many in front of him on the table. He starts building little Stonehenges out of them instead. Nughenges.]
He needed me, at a time when I needed to be needed. Because sometimes I don't know how to function if I'm not needed. And when I needed things — comfort, an anchor, a smile — he had them ready and willing for me.
[she watches him build out of the corner of her eye.
i don't know how to function if i'm not needed, he says, like that doesn't feel like something that could come out of her mouth. maybe it's not needed, so much, as useful. an extra step detached, for someone who can't quite always think of herself as a person.
it makes sense, though. all of that. another little sniff.]
That's nice. [it's a little lame, but she doesn't know what else to say to it. she is absolutely suck at this sort of thing. she means it, though, it's genuine. it is nice.]
D'you know, we've lost ten people by now and I'd barely talked to any of them? I spent an evening playing party games with Barnes. Exchanged the occasional pleasantry with Zagreus. Most of the others were indifferent to me at best, if that.
[He builds a neat line of Nughenges, then starts adding another row atop the first. Soon it will be a Nugolosseum.]
What little I've found for myself here, I want to keep. And if I can't keep it then I want to protect it.
They're different breeds of difficult, I think. Hard to keep losing ones you liked, again and again. Hard to have only a handful and to fear that this time it might be one of them.
[...]
I did think about you. You were all I thought about, for a goodly portion of it.
That's just as fucking scary, Waters. You thought about me, you think you know how I'd react, and you were still prepared. There was a possibility I was going to have to watch you stand up on that stage - there was a fucking possibility that you'd have to fight me on that stage, d'you know that?
Eight bells is a long time to contemplate the ramifications of my choices. I did consider that. I also considered the likelihood that, if we threw him to the wolves, you would have to watch me kill him in front of you.
[He sighs, elbows coming down to thunk against the table as he buries his fingers in his hair. The motion shakes the Nughenges, sends them crashing back down into scattered piles of fried Probably Chicken™.]
I've also thought about, for what it's worth, the instance where you do exactly as I did and protect Harrow, someday. The equal likelihood that I might someday be tasked with cutting your throat. They did it to Bixing and Four. It's not hard to guess they might do it again.
[she watches the nughenges scatter, and one of them goes off the table and she instinctively reaches to catch it. and then just kind of holds it, for a second. the stupidity of it makes her huff, and she puts the nugget on the table and sinks down into her chair.]
You'd have to. I won't have you stand up there and try to protect me, if that's what it came down to. [...] I'd fight you, because I can't leave Harrowhark. But I'd expect you to kill me, because it'd have to be fair.
So I guess what I'm saying is I think it's fucking stupid to risk that at all.
[and thank you scaramouche a day in the future for confirming that one of his OTHER plans for getting out of having to kill people at an execution patently will not work, boy is he gonna be mad when he discovers that one.]
There isn't much about this situation that isn't stupid.
[He digs his fingers harder into his hair.]
Do you remember my comrades, from the memory you saw a sennight back? The one the cards belong to, Urianger.
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[He shrugs slightly.]
I would've voted for myself, in either case. Better that than run the risk of catching an innocent in the crossfire.
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[there's no heat to this, though, and it's not even a really good rebuttal. she just doesn't know how to deal with the very Big emotions she is feeling, as always. she is very carefully not looking at him.]
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[Like. Normally when he does something stupid and self-sacrificing he doesn't have eight whole hours to wait on a knife's edge contemplating it, you know what I mean.]
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yeah!! okay!! chicken nuggets sure!! she's not upset you are!!]
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Anyway. Off to the food court, where he is going to serve himself at least a 40-piece of nuggets.]
You know, you never ask me about him.
[Maybe an 80-piece. And a chocolate milkshake.]
Not even the slightest bit curious?
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she flops down at a table, and doesn't eat. she doesn't stop him from doing it, though.]
No. [she says, like a brat. and then, with a hint of that insecurity that's been plaguing everybody all week:] If you thought it was any of my business, you'd tell me.
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[He positions his nuggets within prime steal-able range, and proceeds to start eating. They're soggy and overprocessed and the milkshake is too sweet. The perfect meal for the moment.]
He's not more important to me than you are.
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If that were true, you wouldn't have been so ready to hop off the fucking ledge for him to leave me behind.
[which is horrendously vulnerable and embarrassing, and very unfair. she knows that, which is why she looks away.]
Don't. Don't indulge me with that.
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[There are not enough chicken nuggets in the world to cope with this. She is being unfair. So was he, bells earlier. This whole damned thing is unfair, and maybe that's why it's hell.]
...Who would you have voted for, if we hadn't pinned down Scaramouche when we did?
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Myself. [so. like, she is a hypocrite, but she knows it.]
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[He closes his eyes, briefly.]
That you've never seen me do the same for you, or for Harrow, is purely a consequence of the fact that neither of you have ever come under suspicion. But if your sword had matched the hole in Chandra's throat? If the mob were ever to turn on you?
That's what I wouldn't leave you to face alone.
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with a casual little sniff, like her voice isn't wet:]
I told you, I don't want that. [she says, and she looks at him, gold eyes bright as always.] Everybody who has ever cared about me or Harrow is dead, because of us. I'm so fucking sick of it.
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I know. I know you are. I know you don't.
[He shakes his head, just slightly.]
You're not the only one who wouldn't have wanted it. I know full well how many of you I would've hurt if I'd had to go through with it.
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she looks down, this time, at the ground. she feels selfish and guilty and useless and none of those are particularly new emotions for her, but very rarely have they choked her up like this. maybe because she finally has something to lose.]
What is he to you, then?
[because that feels better than saying nobody ever wants to stay.]
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[He hasn't eaten his nuggets in a while, but there are still so many in front of him on the table. He starts building little Stonehenges out of them instead. Nughenges.]
He needed me, at a time when I needed to be needed. Because sometimes I don't know how to function if I'm not needed. And when I needed things — comfort, an anchor, a smile — he had them ready and willing for me.
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i don't know how to function if i'm not needed, he says, like that doesn't feel like something that could come out of her mouth. maybe it's not needed, so much, as useful. an extra step detached, for someone who can't quite always think of herself as a person.
it makes sense, though. all of that. another little sniff.]
That's nice. [it's a little lame, but she doesn't know what else to say to it. she is absolutely suck at this sort of thing. she means it, though, it's genuine. it is nice.]
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[He builds a neat line of Nughenges, then starts adding another row atop the first. Soon it will be a Nugolosseum.]
What little I've found for myself here, I want to keep. And if I can't keep it then I want to protect it.
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I liked a lot of them. [she says, finally.] Eto, Lavi. Zagreus, Uriel, Childe. Even Scaramouche, the shifty bastard.
I know who I'd follow to double-death, though. [so - same, in a sense, though much more morbid. it's the ninth in her, a very ninth way to love.]
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[...]
I did think about you. You were all I thought about, for a goodly portion of it.
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It didn't change your decision.
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[Maybe not emotionally, but rationally, at least.]
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That's just as fucking scary, Waters. You thought about me, you think you know how I'd react, and you were still prepared. There was a possibility I was going to have to watch you stand up on that stage - there was a fucking possibility that you'd have to fight me on that stage, d'you know that?
I hope you prepared for that, too.
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[He sighs, elbows coming down to thunk against the table as he buries his fingers in his hair. The motion shakes the Nughenges, sends them crashing back down into scattered piles of fried Probably Chicken™.]
I've also thought about, for what it's worth, the instance where you do exactly as I did and protect Harrow, someday. The equal likelihood that I might someday be tasked with cutting your throat. They did it to Bixing and Four. It's not hard to guess they might do it again.
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You'd have to. I won't have you stand up there and try to protect me, if that's what it came down to. [...] I'd fight you, because I can't leave Harrowhark. But I'd expect you to kill me, because it'd have to be fair.
So I guess what I'm saying is I think it's fucking stupid to risk that at all.
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There isn't much about this situation that isn't stupid.
[He digs his fingers harder into his hair.]
Do you remember my comrades, from the memory you saw a sennight back? The one the cards belong to, Urianger.
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