[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.
He once arranged for the death of someone I loved. Manipulated her into a sacrifice only she could make, for the good of a world of faceless, abstract people none of us had ever met. One life for one world. And the only life that could do it was my Minfilia's.
I hated him for doing it. I rather think he hated himself for doing it, too.
You and I aren't good at making the right decision when it's a decision like this. Our curse is that we're both practical enough to know the right decision when we see it and still hate the person that made it and still love them despite hating them for it.
And I suspect our resident Uriangers are the very people we'd find ourselves leaping in front of said trolleys for. Which rather defeats the point.
[He riffles through the nugget pile until he finds one that's actually relatively crispy and egg-shaped, eyes it, decides it's to his liking, and bites into it.]
My point is —
[.........]
Mayhap there wasn't a point, really. I suppose I just...wanted you to know.
[He flips the remainder of his nugget into the air in a high arc, leans back in his chair far enough to catch it in his mouth (the dexterous son of a bitch disproving his own point like the bastard he is), and then gets up as she bids him, still chewing.]
she lets him finish chewing, because she is capable of being polite about five seconds a week, and then moves around the table and pulls him into a hug. another very tight one, like the other day.]
[FIVE WHOLE SECONDS OF NOT BEING A CHOKING HAZARD bless her
But you know how, when you hug someone awhile, and then you sort of start to pull away like "haha okay I guess that's enough hugging, huh, sorry", and then they just sort of wrap their arms around you a little more securely and draw you back in and oh, a little more of that, then, I guess?
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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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Yeah. I do. [she's listening.]
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I hated him for doing it. I rather think he hated himself for doing it, too.
You and I aren't good at making the right decision when it's a decision like this. Our curse is that we're both practical enough to know the right decision when we see it and still hate the person that made it and still love them despite hating them for it.
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It's best not to put me in charge of practical decisions. [she says, finally.] Because I'll make the wrong one on purpose, again and again.
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[He riffles through the nugget pile until he finds one that's actually relatively crispy and egg-shaped, eyes it, decides it's to his liking, and bites into it.]
My point is —
[.........]
Mayhap there wasn't a point, really. I suppose I just...wanted you to know.
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there's a pause, after he says that, and then she glances at him:]
Stand up, Waters.
[before standing up, herself.]
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[He flips the remainder of his nugget into the air in a high arc, leans back in his chair far enough to catch it in his mouth (the dexterous son of a bitch disproving his own point like the bastard he is), and then gets up as she bids him, still chewing.]
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she lets him finish chewing, because she is capable of being polite about five seconds a week, and then moves around the table and pulls him into a hug. another very tight one, like the other day.]
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But you know how, when you hug someone awhile, and then you sort of start to pull away like "haha okay I guess that's enough hugging, huh, sorry", and then they just sort of wrap their arms around you a little more securely and draw you back in and oh, a little more of that, then, I guess?
That.]