[ she exhales slow again, trying to get the tension out of her shoulders. ]
Same amount of time. Seven years. [ she's only been out of prison for like, maybe a month. ] Got arrested like a few minutes after what you just saw.
[ a beat, and she absently reaches for his coat, or - something, just holding onto him somehow. grounding. she's wrestling with the sense of responsibility, with how much she just wants to be free of it, and how much guilt and love is just an intertwined thing for her. ]
[ she can absolutely do that - he leans into her a little, reaches back to turn the heat down on the stove so his food doesn't actually burn to death. ]
[ okay. he takes a second to compose his thoughts, frowning a little to himself as he slips mentally into vi's shoes, into the anguish and hurt he felt as her, let alone to the horrors of the double whammy of memories, themselves, and steps back mentally for a logical position. ]
...That's a long time to make choices, seven years. Long time to be a teenager in a tumult who lost everything, too.
[ ... ]
I can't say I'd not feel the same way you do, were I in your shoes. Mucking up a responsibility because you lost your temper's been the story of my life. But... [ he thinks, for a moment, about rupert yelling at him before he came here. of course you were scared for a second, it was like you lost everything all over again, i bet your friend wouldn't even be mad!
maybe that's what it is, to be the one with the responsibility. you take the mantle on willingly, but it's heavier than you really know, and you don't realise how heavy until you've someone else standing there to help you carry it, and your shoulders start to feel lighter. that's where he is, right now, arms under the ploughshare, ready to lift some of it off. he just has to figure out how to. ]
I know, that's your family. I know, and I hear what your father said. But you don't have to shoulder that responsibility yourself, it's not just on you. She has other friends, other people, likely a whole life lived in those years. And if they've spiralled downwards, trying to pull her out of it might make her resent you even further.
And... it sounded to me like she made up her mind about what she wanted to do long before you called her that, no matter how old she was. If that catastrophe wasn't enough to stop her, Vi, what is going to be? What worse has to happen?
[ what worse has to happen? that's the question, isn't it.
she doesn't know what will happen when she goes back. she doesn't know what to do next. cait wants nothing to do with her, and she doesn't know how to follow jinx any further, and what can she even do to stop the underground from collapsing in on itself? nobody will listen to her. she's not vander. she's not silco. she's essentially a class traitor now, honestly. she took on the uniform and people saw her as an enforcer and she did it because she had to get to jinx by any means possible but. there's no going back now.
drinking, or drinking. pit fighting. it's what she'd said to strohl before.
what else would have to happen to make this work? more destruction?
and maybe life will be better if she isn't there, anyway. maybe a universe where vi doesn't exist is the better one. maybe she can try to do something with a new start, maybe she can go with people who love her without hesitation. people who don't put conditions on it.
there's a lot of grief and guilt swirling around in her, but it's draining. it's getting siphoned out, bit by bit, and she just. leans forward and puts her head on strohl's shoulder, the energy leaving her entirely. ]
[ he says, but it's very quiet - not so much a scolding so much as it is note on her tone to herself, on the self loathing. as she comes forward, he lifts his free hand and sets it at the back of her neck, holding it there, and his emotions ripple fiercely somewhere between protectiveness and love.
strohl's voice takes on that rough tone in its sincerity, laid bare and raw as he takes her emotions of guilt and grief and holds them, the way he holds his own. ]
You were not put on this or any planet solely to suffer for the sake of others' joy, or resolution, or anything like. [ because that just keeps happening, over and over. she wasn't just put down to be a sacrifice in these little games, nor to fix jinx, nor to mess up things worse or make things better for others, all the while tearing up herself. it's hard to see in her because he sees parts of himself in it, and it's really just his time with will that's taught him to be more than the lack of worth he assigns himself.
will saved strohl's life. he was the light in the darkness when he needed it; in another world without him, he wanders euchronia angry and useless. in another world, maybe he's drinking or drinking, too.
maybe, maybe he can repay the favour that will did for him this way. maybe he can help the way his captain did, maybe he can help vi, pull her out of the muck and brush the dirt off her shoulders, lift her face to the sun. it won't be perfect. euchronia sucks, but it's a path forward. ] You deserve far, far better than that.
it's stupid because these are such simple things that she has never heard before, not out loud. they're a little hard to hear, they're a little hard to accept, but the first step to accepting it is to have it be said at all. you are allowed to be a person who has wants and needs. you can maybe start to put yourself for once, you can let go of the past and move forward. maybe vander didn't want this crippling sense of responsibility for her. or maybe he did, she'll never know now. either way, it's a step in the right direction, and you deserve better makes her feel sick to her stomach and hopeful all at the same time.
this is the kind of emotion she wants to drink away, but she can take this instead, for now.
vi swallows hard. and then, finally: ]
I want to. [ ... ] I want to go back with you guys.
Good. I never took back the offer. I was going to drag you if I must.
[ he gets it. god does he get it. he knows how hard those words are. hypocrite that he is, he feels so firmly that he has to carry halia's weight on his shoulders, that his own wants and needs are second - maybe third, even. his people, will's, then perhaps his own.
the hand at the back of her neck squeezes a little, reassuring - she'll feel his own emotions, empathy, pride in her, and...hope when she says it like a spike. hope is a step behind a clear conscience. neither of theirs are ever so clear, but if they can be hopeful for each other, then maybe they can reach clarity, too.
there's something mulling and thoughtful under it, too. ]
And... who knows. [ that strategist's brain, working, bit by bit. ] Perhaps if you go back there, it'll be with backup. I'm sure if anyone could manage, it would be Neuras; I know world to world travel is something those from Heaven are fighting for, too.
[ there's a touch of fondness and "fucking weirdo" in his emotions, briefly. something wry. ] Your sister does deserve a better life, but not at the cost of yours. Maybe a cross-universe kidnapping'd straighten her out a bit.
I make no promises, this time. We'll have to walk the path to get there, first.
[ it does make her feel a little better, to know that he'd look for some sort of solution. there's a part of her that is always going to feel like she's making the wrong decision, there's always a part of her that's going to love her sister and want her to be okay. but she thinks that if she does this, if she goes to euchronia, it's going to be open and shut. she can't rely on the idea that it might still be fixable. either it is, or it isn't, and if she goes with him, with hulkenberg - that is cutting it off. no more.
she leans into the squeeze. sighs out slow. ]
We have to get out first, yeah. [ they have to figure out how to do it. ]
If we're just playing for our original endings, Leon, they're not going to let me go with you.
Well. First of all, the auditors are dead. So there's not anyone enforcing that.
[ he says, half grumbled. ]
Second of all, I have some flexibility. When I returned home, do you know who was not there? Fidelio Magnus. Do you know was apparently revived, courtesy of the game in Heaven? Fidelio Magnus. He was dead, dead and buried. So there are two versions of Euchronia out there. I fail to see why we can't assimilate with Anders' earned ending.
Third of all... [ though he is going on along this train of thought, she'll feel his shoulders slump, and his emotions swoop. guilt. worry. fear. anxiety, twisting in his gut, and a trembling thread of hope. ] Third of all, I won't give up on it, so you don't, either.
[ ... ]
...Did I tell you that I obtained my inheiritance?
[ he slumps, and she shifts to make it easier for him to lean against her, if he wants. wraps her arms around him, just... solid hugs. it's okay. maybe she can't let herself hope, but she wants him to. she wants for them to have something to work for.
she can support, too. ]
-- I can't remember. It's been ages since I've seen you. [ mumbles. ] Did you? What's that mean for you?
[ yeah. he returns the hug, easy, bowing half over. his shoulders are usually straight and proud, but in moments like these, he slouches. the pressure and guilt is heavy, but they're both wrung out.
there's a little pang of something at the ages bit, longing and then a little warmth, relief, because they are together again, and... ] ... It would have been here, not before. It happened not all that long ago. My father left a letter for me in a fireproof box, in the ruins - I went back, with Will. To Halia.
[ even saying the name, there's that maelstrom, grief and hurt, grief, grief, grief. home, his beloved home. standing in the rubble is such a stark, familiar memory even still, and it was will who helped him get through enough to read the letter, to actually walk through the destroyed streets of his childhood. ]
There was a sizeable chunk of money, though that wasn't really what he meant, so much. Moreso the refugees - they're my true inheritance. [ there's a messy mix of his feelings, despite the steadiness of his voice. grief, pride. hurt and worry. sorrow.] There's a handful of them in the capitol, and they were living on the streets - I didn't even know.
[ guilt, again, like a wave, fierce and biting, but he shoves it back down. ] But, after a bit of finagling, I think I've taken care of that much, at least. All that is to say, I bought land. Houses. Quite a few of them.
[ ...
his voice softens, a little. ] There's a deed there with your name on it.
[ he slouches, slumps against her, and she rubs at his back a bit. easy, easy. she's good at hugs, and even in the middle of how bad she feels, there's that urge to comfort him, to give him a place to cushion. she doesn't mind doing it - they're still so similar, because it feels good to give him something back, to help. a trauma for a trauma.
and she listens. hums, at the guilt. ]
You didn't know, but the second you did, you went to bat for them. Don't be an idiot.
[ none of that guilt! he's what a noble should be. someone who took care of his people, instead of just letting them suffer because it was easier.
and - then. at the end of that, that soft little sentence. there's a squeeze of something surprised, and then stunned. and then quiet, quiet warmth, clawing at her heart.
teasing, even though it's so, so clear she's touched: ]
[ it doesn't matter, he will absolutely still be an idiot, and he gives her a little bit of a look from the side, but it's sullen and he lets it go afterward. like yes he should have known.
i could make a joke about her being a uhaul lesbian hes a uhaul male lesbian however what he says instead, is: ]
You're one of my people. [ simple. ] So of course there's one for you.
[ NYEH. he bonks her and she grumbles, but. she'll finally let him scoot away from her and she'll rub at her face. her own emotions are a mess of affection and weariness and that kind of emotional exhaustion that comes from feeling a lot of big things in a short span. ]
Right, yeah. Didn't burn it? [ sorry she had a mental breakdown in the middle of you cooking strohl ]
[ no he gets that. sort of has to. anyway while she's doing this he scoops up a spoonful and the second she opens her mouth shoves it in there. it's delicious. curative coney roast.
OKAY. well, she munches her mouthful with a grouchy look, but. slides off the counter, wipes her face with her hand, and then goes to get two plates. as she does: ]
... Man, I forgot how good your food is. [ she's been living off airport food for SO long ]
I sent a few packages over, but I wasn't sure what would keep... suppose it's probably not the same.
[ the difference between microwave leftovers and fresh strohl food is a canyon. he's picking out all the burnt bits like a neurotic nerd - by the end of it, 75% of the too big batch is still okay, so he'll serve it onto the plates when she brings them over. ]
... The others are going to die. [ muttered under his breath. his meows. ] Nanase's going to turn them all to fish.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Same amount of time. Seven years. [ she's only been out of prison for like, maybe a month. ] Got arrested like a few minutes after what you just saw.
[ a beat, and she absently reaches for his coat, or - something, just holding onto him somehow. grounding. she's wrestling with the sense of responsibility, with how much she just wants to be free of it, and how much guilt and love is just an intertwined thing for her. ]
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[ she can absolutely do that - he leans into her a little, reaches back to turn the heat down on the stove so his food doesn't actually burn to death. ]
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She was eleven. So... eighteen, now.
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...That's a long time to make choices, seven years. Long time to be a teenager in a tumult who lost everything, too.
[ ... ]
I can't say I'd not feel the same way you do, were I in your shoes. Mucking up a responsibility because you lost your temper's been the story of my life. But... [ he thinks, for a moment, about rupert yelling at him before he came here. of course you were scared for a second, it was like you lost everything all over again, i bet your friend wouldn't even be mad!
maybe that's what it is, to be the one with the responsibility. you take the mantle on willingly, but it's heavier than you really know, and you don't realise how heavy until you've someone else standing there to help you carry it, and your shoulders start to feel lighter. that's where he is, right now, arms under the ploughshare, ready to lift some of it off. he just has to figure out how to. ]
I know, that's your family. I know, and I hear what your father said. But you don't have to shoulder that responsibility yourself, it's not just on you. She has other friends, other people, likely a whole life lived in those years. And if they've spiralled downwards, trying to pull her out of it might make her resent you even further.
And... it sounded to me like she made up her mind about what she wanted to do long before you called her that, no matter how old she was. If that catastrophe wasn't enough to stop her, Vi, what is going to be? What worse has to happen?
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she doesn't know what will happen when she goes back. she doesn't know what to do next. cait wants nothing to do with her, and she doesn't know how to follow jinx any further, and what can she even do to stop the underground from collapsing in on itself? nobody will listen to her. she's not vander. she's not silco. she's essentially a class traitor now, honestly. she took on the uniform and people saw her as an enforcer and she did it because she had to get to jinx by any means possible but. there's no going back now.
drinking, or drinking. pit fighting. it's what she'd said to strohl before.
what else would have to happen to make this work? more destruction?
and maybe life will be better if she isn't there, anyway. maybe a universe where vi doesn't exist is the better one. maybe she can try to do something with a new start, maybe she can go with people who love her without hesitation. people who don't put conditions on it.
there's a lot of grief and guilt swirling around in her, but it's draining. it's getting siphoned out, bit by bit, and she just. leans forward and puts her head on strohl's shoulder, the energy leaving her entirely. ]
Maybe it's better I'm not there.
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[ he says, but it's very quiet - not so much a scolding so much as it is note on her tone to herself, on the self loathing. as she comes forward, he lifts his free hand and sets it at the back of her neck, holding it there, and his emotions ripple fiercely somewhere between protectiveness and love.
strohl's voice takes on that rough tone in its sincerity, laid bare and raw as he takes her emotions of guilt and grief and holds them, the way he holds his own. ]
You were not put on this or any planet solely to suffer for the sake of others' joy, or resolution, or anything like. [ because that just keeps happening, over and over. she wasn't just put down to be a sacrifice in these little games, nor to fix jinx, nor to mess up things worse or make things better for others, all the while tearing up herself. it's hard to see in her because he sees parts of himself in it, and it's really just his time with will that's taught him to be more than the lack of worth he assigns himself.
will saved strohl's life. he was the light in the darkness when he needed it; in another world without him, he wanders euchronia angry and useless. in another world, maybe he's drinking or drinking, too.
maybe, maybe he can repay the favour that will did for him this way. maybe he can help the way his captain did, maybe he can help vi, pull her out of the muck and brush the dirt off her shoulders, lift her face to the sun. it won't be perfect. euchronia sucks, but it's a path forward. ] You deserve far, far better than that.
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it's stupid because these are such simple things that she has never heard before, not out loud. they're a little hard to hear, they're a little hard to accept, but the first step to accepting it is to have it be said at all. you are allowed to be a person who has wants and needs. you can maybe start to put yourself for once, you can let go of the past and move forward. maybe vander didn't want this crippling sense of responsibility for her. or maybe he did, she'll never know now. either way, it's a step in the right direction, and you deserve better makes her feel sick to her stomach and hopeful all at the same time.
this is the kind of emotion she wants to drink away, but she can take this instead, for now.
vi swallows hard. and then, finally: ]
I want to. [ ... ] I want to go back with you guys.
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[ he gets it. god does he get it. he knows how hard those words are. hypocrite that he is, he feels so firmly that he has to carry halia's weight on his shoulders, that his own wants and needs are second - maybe third, even. his people, will's, then perhaps his own.
the hand at the back of her neck squeezes a little, reassuring - she'll feel his own emotions, empathy, pride in her, and...hope when she says it like a spike. hope is a step behind a clear conscience. neither of theirs are ever so clear, but if they can be hopeful for each other, then maybe they can reach clarity, too.
there's something mulling and thoughtful under it, too. ]
And... who knows. [ that strategist's brain, working, bit by bit. ] Perhaps if you go back there, it'll be with backup. I'm sure if anyone could manage, it would be Neuras; I know world to world travel is something those from Heaven are fighting for, too.
[ there's a touch of fondness and "fucking weirdo" in his emotions, briefly. something wry. ] Your sister does deserve a better life, but not at the cost of yours. Maybe a cross-universe kidnapping'd straighten her out a bit.
I make no promises, this time. We'll have to walk the path to get there, first.
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she leans into the squeeze. sighs out slow. ]
We have to get out first, yeah. [ they have to figure out how to do it. ]
If we're just playing for our original endings, Leon, they're not going to let me go with you.
[ tired, horrible misery. ]
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[ he says, half grumbled. ]
Second of all, I have some flexibility. When I returned home, do you know who was not there? Fidelio Magnus. Do you know was apparently revived, courtesy of the game in Heaven? Fidelio Magnus. He was dead, dead and buried. So there are two versions of Euchronia out there. I fail to see why we can't assimilate with Anders' earned ending.
Third of all... [ though he is going on along this train of thought, she'll feel his shoulders slump, and his emotions swoop. guilt. worry. fear. anxiety, twisting in his gut, and a trembling thread of hope. ] Third of all, I won't give up on it, so you don't, either.
[ ... ]
...Did I tell you that I obtained my inheiritance?
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she can support, too. ]
-- I can't remember. It's been ages since I've seen you. [ mumbles. ] Did you? What's that mean for you?
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there's a little pang of something at the ages bit, longing and then a little warmth, relief, because they are together again, and... ] ... It would have been here, not before. It happened not all that long ago. My father left a letter for me in a fireproof box, in the ruins - I went back, with Will. To Halia.
[ even saying the name, there's that maelstrom, grief and hurt, grief, grief, grief. home, his beloved home. standing in the rubble is such a stark, familiar memory even still, and it was will who helped him get through enough to read the letter, to actually walk through the destroyed streets of his childhood. ]
There was a sizeable chunk of money, though that wasn't really what he meant, so much. Moreso the refugees - they're my true inheritance. [ there's a messy mix of his feelings, despite the steadiness of his voice. grief, pride. hurt and worry. sorrow.] There's a handful of them in the capitol, and they were living on the streets - I didn't even know.
[ guilt, again, like a wave, fierce and biting, but he shoves it back down. ] But, after a bit of finagling, I think I've taken care of that much, at least. All that is to say, I bought land. Houses. Quite a few of them.
[ ...
his voice softens, a little. ] There's a deed there with your name on it.
no subject
and she listens. hums, at the guilt. ]
You didn't know, but the second you did, you went to bat for them. Don't be an idiot.
[ none of that guilt! he's what a noble should be. someone who took care of his people, instead of just letting them suffer because it was easier.
and - then. at the end of that, that soft little sentence. there's a squeeze of something surprised, and then stunned. and then quiet, quiet warmth, clawing at her heart.
teasing, even though it's so, so clear she's touched: ]
Moving me in already? Little fast, isn't it?
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i could make a joke about her being a uhaul lesbian hes a uhaul male lesbian however what he says instead, is: ]
You're one of my people. [ simple. ] So of course there's one for you.
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but also, she doesn't know what to say to this and it really kicks her ass. quietly, she shifts her grip, clinging a little more tightly. and then: ]
You keep saying shit like that and you're really not going to be able to scrub me out.
[ not that she wants him to. he hasn't let her push him away. ]
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Amazing! It's almost like I'm not trying to.
[ idiot. his emotions are so fond, though, even as he says it. he shifts a little, finally, enough to glance back at the pot from before. ]
We ought to eat. Come on.
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Right, yeah. Didn't burn it? [ sorry she had a mental breakdown in the middle of you cooking strohl ]
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Just the more delicate bits. Nothing so much it'll ruin it, but I can remake it if you're willing to wait.
[ the tone implies he knows she's not going to be willing, but he'll ask anyway...... ]
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[ indignant emotions!! don't waste food!! maybe she's a garbage can a little but also there is the emotion of food scarcity. grumbles. ]
Make yourself a new one and I'll eat this one.
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and then waves her off. ]
Go get me two plates.
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OKAY. well, she munches her mouthful with a grouchy look, but. slides off the counter, wipes her face with her hand, and then goes to get two plates. as she does: ]
... Man, I forgot how good your food is. [ she's been living off airport food for SO long ]
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[ the difference between microwave leftovers and fresh strohl food is a canyon. he's picking out all the burnt bits like a neurotic nerd - by the end of it, 75% of the too big batch is still okay, so he'll serve it onto the plates when she brings them over. ]
... The others are going to die. [ muttered under his breath. his meows. ] Nanase's going to turn them all to fish.