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Did I ever imply as much? I'm only repeating what you told me when we met, you know. If you won't talk, I'm never going to understand.
[He has to take a moment to wipe at the sweat against his neck - to roll his sleeves up a little further against those seals against his skin, to pull his hair away from his forehead and ears.]
It's not as though I want to sit here and have you prod at me, either. Certainly you should expect some retaliation.
[He has to take a moment to wipe at the sweat against his neck - to roll his sleeves up a little further against those seals against his skin, to pull his hair away from his forehead and ears.]
It's not as though I want to sit here and have you prod at me, either. Certainly you should expect some retaliation.
[It's almost laughable now, how forgetting who and what we was along with his long list of sins made him a much better person. Eccentric, sure, and a bit out of touch with most... but better. Kinder. Unburdened by all that baggage, Nishi was largely good.
Yet what lies beneath could not be further from the truth. The whole of his former self was revealed to him in full on Wednesday, stirred by the latent madness this farcical play inspires. What Solomon sees now is nothing virtuous— only fragments of a man who could never endure once compartmentalizing became impossible.
He sighs, rocking upright— and nearly tipping to the floor, managing to catch himself on a retracting curtain. Clinging to it, he edges to his feet. The weight of it all presses down with an oppressively heavy gravity.]
The truth is... I would have been better off staying as I was. "Nishi" was desperate to remember himself. And yet here I am, no wiser, no lighter. Perhaps I was better off without those old memories.
Yet what lies beneath could not be further from the truth. The whole of his former self was revealed to him in full on Wednesday, stirred by the latent madness this farcical play inspires. What Solomon sees now is nothing virtuous— only fragments of a man who could never endure once compartmentalizing became impossible.
He sighs, rocking upright— and nearly tipping to the floor, managing to catch himself on a retracting curtain. Clinging to it, he edges to his feet. The weight of it all presses down with an oppressively heavy gravity.]
The truth is... I would have been better off staying as I was. "Nishi" was desperate to remember himself. And yet here I am, no wiser, no lighter. Perhaps I was better off without those old memories.
[Oh, well, there he goes. Solomon doesn't move, though he does keep his eyes on where Nishi is heading off to to see if he needs to stop him from doing anything stupid--
...]
So you've remembered who you are.
[That explains quite a lot in the personality difference, then. But when in the world...]
That wasn't what was taken from you, then? Or did someone fill in the blanks for you?
...]
So you've remembered who you are.
[That explains quite a lot in the personality difference, then. But when in the world...]
That wasn't what was taken from you, then? Or did someone fill in the blanks for you?
[It's almost painful to remember, dredging up scenes from his nightmares that ache like migraines circling his head. Harder still to explain his situation to Solomon when he can barely think— the floor seems to tilt beneath him, dim light bouncing off the cold, metallic drawers of the morgue, a sickening swirl of stars.]
I don't know precisely... how to describe it to you. But— one day, I awoke out of place. I woke in an unfamiliar space... on a tatami mat, in a small square room with paper doors. My uniform hung there, as did my helmet and mask. I thought them clownish... until I put them on and realized they suited me just fine.
[Does that answer Solomon's question? He doesn't know. Thoughts spiral off his tongue and down an unseen drain.]
I lived that way for some time... believing it was my atonement for the life I'd led before. Now, arriving here, I'm not so sure.
[He hasn't gotten better since being here. If anything, he's backslid, becoming far worse.]
I don't know precisely... how to describe it to you. But— one day, I awoke out of place. I woke in an unfamiliar space... on a tatami mat, in a small square room with paper doors. My uniform hung there, as did my helmet and mask. I thought them clownish... until I put them on and realized they suited me just fine.
[Does that answer Solomon's question? He doesn't know. Thoughts spiral off his tongue and down an unseen drain.]
I lived that way for some time... believing it was my atonement for the life I'd led before. Now, arriving here, I'm not so sure.
[He hasn't gotten better since being here. If anything, he's backslid, becoming far worse.]
[It's with great meandering and difficulty that Char makes his way over to the sink, palming around for a cup.]
...You could call it Nishi's life. But what changed? Tell me— do I look like a man who's been forgiven? Or one who never stopped being what he was?
...You could call it Nishi's life. But what changed? Tell me— do I look like a man who's been forgiven? Or one who never stopped being what he was?
At the moment? No. [Solomon carefully lifts to his feet, just so he can keep Nishi in eyesight.]
I noticed changes in your behavior this evening, yes, but despite that, you seem just as hard on yourself as you were before, if not more. Incomprehensibly so.
Even if you'd been forgiven, you certainly aren't acting like you believe as much.
I noticed changes in your behavior this evening, yes, but despite that, you seem just as hard on yourself as you were before, if not more. Incomprehensibly so.
Even if you'd been forgiven, you certainly aren't acting like you believe as much.
[He has to take some time away from the gardens immediately after Noelle's death. But Solomon eventually makes his way back up to settle into the great stone archway, slips of paper in his hand and a small black pouch with golden thread sitting in wait. One hand is bandaged at the palm and stretching down past his jacket sleeve, and he seems to be very careful in how still he's holding himself, wincing if he leans to one particular side.
He's not sure how much time passes before he notices Char in the same space. But he acknowledges him with little more than a flick of his eyes, before returning to what he's doing.
For some reason, he's staying eerily quiet.]
He's not sure how much time passes before he notices Char in the same space. But he acknowledges him with little more than a flick of his eyes, before returning to what he's doing.
For some reason, he's staying eerily quiet.]
Edited 2025-08-31 22:46 (UTC)
[He lets out a low, humorless laugh, one that shakes his shoulders slightly as if to dislodge some lingering weight. The dim light catches the edges of his mask and helmet, reminding him of the person he once was and the masks he's worn since.]
...Forgiven? Perhaps. But forgiveness isn't... enough. Not for what I've done. Not for the lives I've shattered, the people I've hurt— even those I care for most.
[Especially them. He slumps slightly against the counter, hands running over its cold surface as if grounding himself to the moment.]
I may have been forgiven by others... but I can't forgive myself. And sometimes, Solomon... sometimes I wonder if I ever will.
[The drug dulls the edges of restraint; he doesn't bother polishing his words, letting them spill freely. His gaze meets Solomon's, unflinching, seeking acknowledgment more than absolution.]
...Forgiven? Perhaps. But forgiveness isn't... enough. Not for what I've done. Not for the lives I've shattered, the people I've hurt— even those I care for most.
[Especially them. He slumps slightly against the counter, hands running over its cold surface as if grounding himself to the moment.]
I may have been forgiven by others... but I can't forgive myself. And sometimes, Solomon... sometimes I wonder if I ever will.
[The drug dulls the edges of restraint; he doesn't bother polishing his words, letting them spill freely. His gaze meets Solomon's, unflinching, seeking acknowledgment more than absolution.]
[He pauses a few steps away, his posture deliberate, shoulders squared, helmet tucked under one arm. Char studies Solomon with a careful, measured gaze, noting the bandaged hand and the subtle tension in his stance.]
You're awfully quiet.
[The words are neither accusatory nor prying, simply an acknowledgment. He lets the silence stretch, giving Solomon space to choose whether to respond.]
It seems you're having a rough time.
[Char shifts to lean his weight against the stone archway. Even in his usual restraint, there's a quiet gravity to his presence— steady, patient, offering conversation without intrusion.]
You're awfully quiet.
[The words are neither accusatory nor prying, simply an acknowledgment. He lets the silence stretch, giving Solomon space to choose whether to respond.]
It seems you're having a rough time.
[Char shifts to lean his weight against the stone archway. Even in his usual restraint, there's a quiet gravity to his presence— steady, patient, offering conversation without intrusion.]
[It feels similar to a conversation they'd had on first meeting, though with far more to fill the cracks - instead of a blind panic at the unknown, this feels far more like the words of a man with weight and clarity to those things that fill him with regrets.]
...Sins are a heavy thing to hold. Even if you know everyone else will move on... some times, I believe it's too hard to let go completely.
[The destruction. The hate. An image of a body, cold on foreign soils at the foot of a fountain.]
...
Are you afraid of what might happen, if you do?
...Sins are a heavy thing to hold. Even if you know everyone else will move on... some times, I believe it's too hard to let go completely.
[The destruction. The hate. An image of a body, cold on foreign soils at the foot of a fountain.]
...
Are you afraid of what might happen, if you do?
[He doesn't respond for the longest time, a shaking exhale when he can feel that weight so close to where he sits.
Coincidence. Always coincidence. It didn't matter.
...]
...
Danya.
It's for the best if you don't speak with me.
[Quiet. Very, very quiet.]
I don't know who's watching. And I don't want you to get hurt.
Coincidence. Always coincidence. It didn't matter.
...]
...
Danya.
It's for the best if you don't speak with me.
[Quiet. Very, very quiet.]
I don't know who's watching. And I don't want you to get hurt.
What would happen... if I let go completely?
[How? How could I ever do that? The first questions that spill to mind are almost frantic, perhaps because Char never has considered letting go. How could he afford to, with so much riding on his shoulders?
He sinks lower, cheek against the cool counter. He's forgotten the water already.]
...You think it's a matter of willingness? That I hold this weight by choice?
[Is Solomon saying that was all his decision in the end?]
[How? How could I ever do that? The first questions that spill to mind are almost frantic, perhaps because Char never has considered letting go. How could he afford to, with so much riding on his shoulders?
He sinks lower, cheek against the cool counter. He's forgotten the water already.]
...You think it's a matter of willingness? That I hold this weight by choice?
[Is Solomon saying that was all his decision in the end?]
Edited 2025-08-31 23:54 (UTC)
I can't say one way or the other.
[Jeez, Char, please don't fall on the floor... Sighing, Solomon breaks the distance, a hand to Char's shoulder very lightly.]
I only speak from experience. To even think of not holding a guilt close... it feels like a failure at times. An act of cowardice. But those feelings are coming from myself as much as they may from anyone else. If I cannot see them for what they are, it doesnt matter who might forgive me.
[Jeez, Char, please don't fall on the floor... Sighing, Solomon breaks the distance, a hand to Char's shoulder very lightly.]
I only speak from experience. To even think of not holding a guilt close... it feels like a failure at times. An act of cowardice. But those feelings are coming from myself as much as they may from anyone else. If I cannot see them for what they are, it doesnt matter who might forgive me.
Worry for your own sake.
[He's far from incapable. Besides, Solomon's warning brings to mind one figure in particular:]
If you're worried about Fandaniel, don't be. He won't harm me.
[He's far from incapable. Besides, Solomon's warning brings to mind one figure in particular:]
If you're worried about Fandaniel, don't be. He won't harm me.
[His tone is firm, but not unkind.]
Tell me what happened. I need the full story, Solomon, so I can determine how to handle this.
[This is, at least in part, his fault, so it falls on him to fix it.]
Tell me what happened. I need the full story, Solomon, so I can determine how to handle this.
[This is, at least in part, his fault, so it falls on him to fix it.]
Edited 2025-09-01 01:12 (UTC)
Oh, no need. It's already been handled.
[Smiling, easy, as he pulls out the blue pen he carries on him, popping off the lid with his thumb and starting to write.]
Just be careful, Danya. That's all I ask.
I don't recommend being seen with me. But if you had other questions, I'll try to keep it brief.
[Smiling, easy, as he pulls out the blue pen he carries on him, popping off the lid with his thumb and starting to write.]
Just be careful, Danya. That's all I ask.
I don't recommend being seen with me. But if you had other questions, I'll try to keep it brief.
You can spare me your concern. Is this truly so simple that you believe you can resolve it alone? Are you stubborn from pride, or do you think the truth might somehow wound me?
I can't. But I also can't say I'm a fan of sending you into a next of vipers that I myself may have very well helped to make. And that is the last thing I would like to add to your regrets.
[Sentence finished. Paper folded. He moves onto the next strip.]
I'm sad you think I'm so untrustworthy.
[Sentence finished. Paper folded. He moves onto the next strip.]
I'm sad you think I'm so untrustworthy.
[Is he really that vulnerable in Solomon's eyes? Almost insulting, but Char lets it slide. A snake fears no other snake. After this, he'll be diving straight into the nest. This really is a matter of necessity, a means to avoid further tragedy.]
You're remarkable in how unhelpful you are. I'll be sure not to rely on you for any straightforward answers.
[Turning his attention to the papers—]
Will you be just as evasive with your little writings?
You're remarkable in how unhelpful you are. I'll be sure not to rely on you for any straightforward answers.
[Turning his attention to the papers—]
Will you be just as evasive with your little writings?
I'm sure I'll find a way to get over my disappointment somehow.
[Not even looking up as he says that.
Sorry, Char. Something has clearly happened and it has his walls up much higher than usual.]
I'd prefer not to be. I would like to remember the people I'm around, after all, regardless of whether they're living or recently dead.
[Not even looking up as he says that.
Sorry, Char. Something has clearly happened and it has his walls up much higher than usual.]
I'd prefer not to be. I would like to remember the people I'm around, after all, regardless of whether they're living or recently dead.
[But the floor whispers beneath him...]
I can't just let it go. These... reminders of my mistakes—they keep me honest. A weight like this should follow a man through lifetimes.
[This is his grave, built brick by bloody brick. Char turns his face away, shielding it from Solomon's view.]
I'm sorry. If your advice had reached me sooner... maybe things would have turned out differently.
[Maybe he could have listened. Maybe, just maybe.]
I can't just let it go. These... reminders of my mistakes—they keep me honest. A weight like this should follow a man through lifetimes.
[This is his grave, built brick by bloody brick. Char turns his face away, shielding it from Solomon's view.]
I'm sorry. If your advice had reached me sooner... maybe things would have turned out differently.
[Maybe he could have listened. Maybe, just maybe.]
There's no need to apologize to me. [That touch strengthens, just slightly, a rub back and forth against his shoulder.]
It's not as though I'm saying such things to condemn you, you know. You're so trapped inside your own heart, Danya, it's hard to say if I know you, or just the shade of you that wears your guilt like a cloak.
It's not as though I'm saying such things to condemn you, you know. You're so trapped inside your own heart, Danya, it's hard to say if I know you, or just the shade of you that wears your guilt like a cloak.
[Consoled? The thought feels wrong, unbearably wrong. It's enough to make Char wobble upright, abandoning the idea of fetching water altogether, and stagger back toward the infirmary bed.]
You already know more than you should. Why don't we call it a night?
[He feels too exposed. Too raw.]
You already know more than you should. Why don't we call it a night?
[He feels too exposed. Too raw.]
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