[ it's strange to see shinobu without her smile—it's practically her trademark. he knows it's precious to her. but they've all been run ragged lately... and it's only been two weeks.
who knows how long their minds, hearts, and bodies will last? she looks so tired. his expression softens minutely before he nods. ]
Something like that, yes.
[ he glances to the clay figurines, pensive. ]
I was praying. For them, and for us. [ just one way he unloads a tiny bit of the weight in his chest. ]
[ something about the sentiment is little canned—his thoughts on death are not actually that optimistic. he's quiet for a moment, unfolding his hands from their prayers. ]
...Come sit. Let us both find a moment of reprieve.
[ it really looks like she could use it, even if this place is a little unpleasant. it's quiet, at least. ]
[ They know of the existence of the graveyard, but they don't know the state of it, only that Tsururmaru and Evan have their items and that they're safe(?). Can they be safe if they've died? Only the dead can tell. ]
... You deserve it more.
[ But she does as asked and takes a seat in this cramped Memorial Hall. Her eyes on the clay figures are conflicted. Is that respectful of the dead? ]
[ if they are safe, how long would it last? there's so much they don't know and can't presume when it comes to the afterlife, separated by a veil none of them want to cross.
he scoots aside a little to make room for her. ]
Everyone deserves it. Besides the killer that we did not catch.
[ he's not special in his sadness, or alone in his weariness—even shinobu, bright and impossibly strong, is showing her shorn edges today. on that note, he looks over at her, brow furrowed. ]
I cannot stop you. Likewise—...my feelings are what they are.
[ maybe he's worried, too. it's hard not to be, with everything that's happened, and at the sad state of them. ]
Yes, the killer that we did not catch deserves no reprieve.
[ Her words are quiet, but there's no questioning the certainty with which she says them. There can be no forgiveness.
Her eyelashes flutter, as if she's just trying to stay afloat, as if she wants to do anything but cry. She is not alone in her sadness, her anger, or her guilt over what's happened in the past few days. She knows the events weigh heavy on everyone in different ways. ]
You cannot stop my feelings, but it's because it's you that I am hesitant when I would not be.
[ She's so much more sure with almost anyone else, but there is no erasing their past. ]
[ In their last ritual, by now they'd freed themselves. It had cost so much—but they weren't here, sitting in a dark hall, candles flickering for the dead that they've failed and condemned. It's not surprising that after this many weeks, they would make a mistake and miss a vital connection between their clues.
But defeated and broken down as they are, do they build up again? He's quiet for a moment, then, ]
Then speak as though I'm someone else.
[ He needs to judge her words more carefully than before, but he's open to try listening again. ]
[ Shinobu has never been perfect, and her actions have not always been to spare someone feelings, but in this small room surrounded by spaces for the lives that could not be saved, maybe she can hold her tongue less.
She worries what she wants to say may chase him away, but if it does, it would be deserved. After all, for all that she's done, does she deserve to want to keep him near? However tenuous and fragile her current relationship with him is, however much her presence may complicate matters for him, she cares. Even if she shouldn't, she does.
She keeps her voice steady, stronger and warmer than the flickering candlelight. ]
I worry about you for more reason than one. What you hold on your shoulders and in your heart weighs heavily on you, perhaps unimaginably so. I do not know what you have endured, but I do recognize the anger that's within you.
[ She sees it and felt it for more than simple anger. ]
The effects of sleeping at the theater would take its toll on anyone, and I worry about how you have handled that. You paint yourself with terrible strokes, and I think there is more to you than that.
[ She takes a small breath, and her words are soft. ]
Even if doesn't mean anything to you, even if you don't wish for it anymore, even if it serves to be worthless, I do forgive you. I have forgiven you.
[ She's always seemed to understand anger. He'd felt a sort of kinship to that on the island—like maybe she had experienced it too. That perhaps underneath that smile her sister loved so much was a fury just as bright as his.
Maybe they had used that understanding to hurt each other. He doesn't know what to make of any of it, the twisted and awkward thing that this has become. Still, he shakes his head. ]
It isn't worthless.
[ Everyone speaks of forgiveness as though it's liberation, a weight shucked off one's shoulders. But as much as he wants it, absolution feels frail here, barely earned. He wonders if he shouldn't hand it back, like she's misplaced it. He isn't sure when she'd given it to him in the first place, but it's enough that he starts talking. ]
Kocho, I—...You saw who I am. You felt it firsthand.
[ He raises a hand to his chest without thinking, fingers curled at his breastbone, remembering. More than anyone, she and Giyuu are aware of his core. He can play at being princely and kind, but what does it matter? ]
I am slow to forgive. I never forget. When I begin to doubt, when my thoughts turn towards the worst, everything goes—so unbelievably dark. [ It's like walking into a fog, lost the moment he steps too far into it. He wakes up and there's always blood on his hands. All it would take is another moment of distrust, and he'd have a dagger in his palm again. ] That is the sort of person I am. The mistakes I've made I must carry until I can finally die.
[ Whenever that is. In the silence of the hall, his voice goes harsh and quiet with a rarely shown fear, wavering with the candlelight. ]
If I do not recognize the things I've done, I may just hurt you again. And you are already so...
[ It's as though every week she finds some way to risk everything. ]
You put yourself through enough already. [ He doesn't need to add to the dangers she faces. ]
It is not easy to accept forgiveness if you do not forgive yourself.
[ It's said to sound more like an observation than anything pointed. It's not too difficult to see the opinion he has of himself, and it's easier to hear it in the way he describes himself. ]
Do you think you have to be a shining paragon to be a good person? You do not always have to be kind to be good. You do not have to be a good person to be kind either. I do not forget, and I do not easily forgive either.
[ Her smile is gentle, and she reaches over to touch the back of the hand he raises, her fingers as light as a butterfly landing on a flower. ]
I have seen you. I have felt it. Should I condemn you for our similarities? Do you think I am terrible? If you are afraid, I will show you I am not.
[ What they have between them is complicated and may never be fully resolved. There is so much that hangs on their shoulders and in the silence they share. There is so much she wish she could say, so much that she wishes she could do to help instead of harm him, but all she can do is try and be herself. ]
[ What is Shinobu to him? Strong and valiant, unrelenting and sometimes cruel. Oftentimes kind. He admires her as much as he fears for her, but he isn't afraid of her, either. It's a conflict of emotions, and even so. Even so...
Is she a good person? If they are so similar, can he share some of her convictions? That duality, those flaws, that kindness and severity both: should he condemn them? He draws in a shaky breath, a wounded look in his eyes, a sort of vulnerability he wants to smooth under a royal veneer but has never been good at.
In his mind, a 'good' person is perfect picture, a flawless ideology that he can strive for but is already too tarnished to match. To forgive her meant letting that go. Her words are healing, and he wonders what sort of life she would have had, if the nature of her world were just that much kinder. He realizes, maybe, that the evil in people is not solely based on their hearts, but the things they have to fight. They have all had to sink so low—was it fair to judge everyone for what they're forced to do?
Her touch is almost imperceptively gentle; his fingers curl in on themselves, as though he could clasp her hand that way. ]
...I want to forgive you, too.
[ He wants to: he speaks it out into reality before he can hesitate, before his anger can come win out. ]
I do not think we can begin anew. The past is what it is—written and permanent. But in the present... I want to live life without fearing those that I would call friends.
[ Whether she is a good person or not, he's never wanted her to be anyone else. It is his natural state to trust, to believe in others: he just wants that to be their norm again. ]
[ In these harsh situations, distinct lines between right and wrong become more blurred. Shinobu has never painted in black and white, knowing all too well how grey people can be. Her judgments are decisive and hard to appeal once handed down, but she tries to understand first.
It's a wonder why she's so surprised to hear those words from him. Her eyes widen, and she stands still for a moment. She doesn't pull away, and her fingers stay where they are. ]
I would not ask you to forget what happened. I could never ask that of anyone. If you can forgive, please don't forget.
[ Shinobu, young and newly full of grief, spat the words: Is living a normal life true happiness? Is lying to yourself and living as if nothing happened true happiness? If so then I don’t need it. That’s just like death!
It's still true to her this day. She won't erase the past. She can't. She doesn't want to. Whatever is muddled and twisted between them is their reality and present, and it should be acknowledged. What got them to this point must be acknowledged. ]
... If we could call each other friends again—
[ She stops. When she starts again, her voice is soft, softer, vulnerable. ]
If we can work past this, perhaps what we can build will be stronger.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No.
[ it's easy enough to admit, though he pauses as he blinks his eyes open and looks over her. ]
Have you? [ it's practically a rhetorical question. ]
no subject
There is much weighing on my mind and heart, but all of us would be more help with a more rested body.
[ ... ]
Are you paying respects?
no subject
who knows how long their minds, hearts, and bodies will last? she looks so tired. his expression softens minutely before he nods. ]
Something like that, yes.
[ he glances to the clay figurines, pensive. ]
I was praying. For them, and for us. [ just one way he unloads a tiny bit of the weight in his chest. ]
no subject
I hope it's nice wherever they are. They deserve at least that much.
[ Death is never easy, and neither is dying. ]
no subject
[ something about the sentiment is little canned—his thoughts on death are not actually that optimistic. he's quiet for a moment, unfolding his hands from their prayers. ]
...Come sit. Let us both find a moment of reprieve.
[ it really looks like she could use it, even if this place is a little unpleasant. it's quiet, at least. ]
no subject
... You deserve it more.
[ But she does as asked and takes a seat in this cramped Memorial Hall. Her eyes on the clay figures are conflicted. Is that respectful of the dead? ]
Will you allow me to worry about you?
no subject
he scoots aside a little to make room for her. ]
Everyone deserves it. Besides the killer that we did not catch.
[ he's not special in his sadness, or alone in his weariness—even shinobu, bright and impossibly strong, is showing her shorn edges today. on that note, he looks over at her, brow furrowed. ]
I cannot stop you. Likewise—...my feelings are what they are.
[ maybe he's worried, too. it's hard not to be, with everything that's happened, and at the sad state of them. ]
no subject
[ Her words are quiet, but there's no questioning the certainty with which she says them. There can be no forgiveness.
Her eyelashes flutter, as if she's just trying to stay afloat, as if she wants to do anything but cry. She is not alone in her sadness, her anger, or her guilt over what's happened in the past few days. She knows the events weigh heavy on everyone in different ways. ]
You cannot stop my feelings, but it's because it's you that I am hesitant when I would not be.
[ She's so much more sure with almost anyone else, but there is no erasing their past. ]
no subject
But defeated and broken down as they are, do they build up again? He's quiet for a moment, then, ]
Then speak as though I'm someone else.
[ He needs to judge her words more carefully than before, but he's open to try listening again. ]
no subject
[ Shinobu has never been perfect, and her actions have not always been to spare someone feelings, but in this small room surrounded by spaces for the lives that could not be saved, maybe she can hold her tongue less.
She worries what she wants to say may chase him away, but if it does, it would be deserved. After all, for all that she's done, does she deserve to want to keep him near? However tenuous and fragile her current relationship with him is, however much her presence may complicate matters for him, she cares. Even if she shouldn't, she does.
She keeps her voice steady, stronger and warmer than the flickering candlelight. ]
I worry about you for more reason than one. What you hold on your shoulders and in your heart weighs heavily on you, perhaps unimaginably so. I do not know what you have endured, but I do recognize the anger that's within you.
[ She sees it and felt it for more than simple anger. ]
The effects of sleeping at the theater would take its toll on anyone, and I worry about how you have handled that. You paint yourself with terrible strokes, and I think there is more to you than that.
[ She takes a small breath, and her words are soft. ]
Even if doesn't mean anything to you, even if you don't wish for it anymore, even if it serves to be worthless, I do forgive you. I have forgiven you.
no subject
Maybe they had used that understanding to hurt each other. He doesn't know what to make of any of it, the twisted and awkward thing that this has become. Still, he shakes his head. ]
It isn't worthless.
[ Everyone speaks of forgiveness as though it's liberation, a weight shucked off one's shoulders. But as much as he wants it, absolution feels frail here, barely earned. He wonders if he shouldn't hand it back, like she's misplaced it. He isn't sure when she'd given it to him in the first place, but it's enough that he starts talking. ]
Kocho, I—...You saw who I am. You felt it firsthand.
[ He raises a hand to his chest without thinking, fingers curled at his breastbone, remembering. More than anyone, she and Giyuu are aware of his core. He can play at being princely and kind, but what does it matter? ]
I am slow to forgive. I never forget. When I begin to doubt, when my thoughts turn towards the worst, everything goes—so unbelievably dark. [ It's like walking into a fog, lost the moment he steps too far into it. He wakes up and there's always blood on his hands. All it would take is another moment of distrust, and he'd have a dagger in his palm again. ] That is the sort of person I am. The mistakes I've made I must carry until I can finally die.
[ Whenever that is. In the silence of the hall, his voice goes harsh and quiet with a rarely shown fear, wavering with the candlelight. ]
If I do not recognize the things I've done, I may just hurt you again. And you are already so...
[ It's as though every week she finds some way to risk everything. ]
You put yourself through enough already. [ He doesn't need to add to the dangers she faces. ]
no subject
[ It's said to sound more like an observation than anything pointed. It's not too difficult to see the opinion he has of himself, and it's easier to hear it in the way he describes himself. ]
Do you think you have to be a shining paragon to be a good person? You do not always have to be kind to be good. You do not have to be a good person to be kind either. I do not forget, and I do not easily forgive either.
[ Her smile is gentle, and she reaches over to touch the back of the hand he raises, her fingers as light as a butterfly landing on a flower. ]
I have seen you. I have felt it. Should I condemn you for our similarities? Do you think I am terrible? If you are afraid, I will show you I am not.
[ What they have between them is complicated and may never be fully resolved. There is so much that hangs on their shoulders and in the silence they share. There is so much she wish she could say, so much that she wishes she could do to help instead of harm him, but all she can do is try and be herself. ]
no subject
Is she a good person? If they are so similar, can he share some of her convictions? That duality, those flaws, that kindness and severity both: should he condemn them? He draws in a shaky breath, a wounded look in his eyes, a sort of vulnerability he wants to smooth under a royal veneer but has never been good at.
In his mind, a 'good' person is perfect picture, a flawless ideology that he can strive for but is already too tarnished to match. To forgive her meant letting that go. Her words are healing, and he wonders what sort of life she would have had, if the nature of her world were just that much kinder. He realizes, maybe, that the evil in people is not solely based on their hearts, but the things they have to fight. They have all had to sink so low—was it fair to judge everyone for what they're forced to do?
Her touch is almost imperceptively gentle; his fingers curl in on themselves, as though he could clasp her hand that way. ]
...I want to forgive you, too.
[ He wants to: he speaks it out into reality before he can hesitate, before his anger can come win out. ]
I do not think we can begin anew. The past is what it is—written and permanent. But in the present... I want to live life without fearing those that I would call friends.
[ Whether she is a good person or not, he's never wanted her to be anyone else. It is his natural state to trust, to believe in others: he just wants that to be their norm again. ]
no subject
It's a wonder why she's so surprised to hear those words from him. Her eyes widen, and she stands still for a moment. She doesn't pull away, and her fingers stay where they are. ]
I would not ask you to forget what happened. I could never ask that of anyone. If you can forgive, please don't forget.
[ Shinobu, young and newly full of grief, spat the words: Is living a normal life true happiness? Is lying to yourself and living as if nothing happened true happiness? If so then I don’t need it. That’s just like death!
It's still true to her this day. She won't erase the past. She can't. She doesn't want to. Whatever is muddled and twisted between them is their reality and present, and it should be acknowledged. What got them to this point must be acknowledged. ]
... If we could call each other friends again—
[ She stops. When she starts again, her voice is soft, softer, vulnerable. ]
If we can work past this, perhaps what we can build will be stronger.