[Sighing back underneath a grimace, he peels the foreign clothing off of him, getting up to instead drop it next to where Nishi's helmet and visor have been discarded.]
Me? I've fought with only one person besides yourself, and at least I had a productive end goal in mind when I did it.
[Char chuckles, deliberately overlooking Solomon's attempt to make this conversation even halfway productive. As far as Char sees it, what's done is done. He's committed a sin against someone important to him, and he can't walk it back. As always, the ones who get close to him inevitably find themselves burnt.]
Do you think a proper fight would settle the score between us? Solomon.
[People tell him he's hard to understand. Wonder why?
He's one ill-advised turn from dumping himself on the floor, but againβ so what? If Char had any reason to believe he'd meet his maker by way of the floor tiles, he'd have perished a long time ago. Liken him to a cockroach and you'll find the comparison apt.]
I don't know what you feel about me. If you hated me, I'd understand you.
[He can relate to the feeling of hating someone's guts. He can't relate to the unnerving enigma of a man before him, yet he feels like he should.]
What have you been through in your life that you can so easily compartmentalize your feelings? Does it not dull them, obscuring them away?
Questions asked sincerely can go a long way, Danya. The only thing you are guaranteed to earn with your hands to someone's neck are regrets, not answers.
[Sure, you might manage both if you were lucky. But had he learned anything from trying to kill Solomon? Had he, from trying to kill Sika? Would he, if he tried again?
When the question is redirected, it only earns a chuckle, humorless.]
Mm. I wouldn't quite know where to start. But... some things dull our hearts for the better of our goals. It's a consequence you have to live with.
[What's worse: letting that misunderstanding hang in the air unresolved, or the reality that he had tried, sincerely, to eke the truth out of Sika? Char wanted so badly to be understood in that moment, to have the reason for his upset acknowledged by Sika and ownership of it taken.
Instead, Sika remained mum. She taunted him, telling him to beg, and he fell hard on old habits and snapped at herβ just as she'd intended. What Char and Sika have in common, all the threads that link them, is subsumed by the weight of reality, knowing Sika must hurt others without explanation for the sake of bearing her burdens alone. He thought, perhaps foolishly, that they could carry each other's weight.
Rather than leave himself lying here as a painful, exposed nerve, Char comments only on Solomon's response to his question.]
Well said, but you speak like a man with lifetimes of experience doing exactly that. Why is that?
[His pause is heavy, as though something about the question scrapes down deep into a space that is empty and clouded.]
It depends why you ask, I guess.
No one ever truly believed in me. So I took it on myself and myself alone to find a path forward with my life. And to go against all that is correct in the world means to bring all the emotions that come with it.
[Char can't catch himself in time, mind addled by the drug, and so he openly sighs. More of a groan, really. Some manner of exasperated noise. Impetuous and audacious, he rolls on his stomach and flicks Solomon's forehead.
They are alike, and the violent return of his memories has made that all the more clear to Char. That's why he always grated on his nerves. That's why he couldn't help but be on guard around him. Right now, it's just... annoying, more than anything.]
Don't steal my material.
[There's a little Nishi left in him after all.]
...Mm, but was it that they didn't believe in you, or were they afraid of you?
[Ow???? Sir he's going to find another place to sit if you keep this up... His hand does lift to shake that away and slide himself over just a little bit more. Personal space, please.]
Both.
People tend to fear the things they don't understand, and it's not like I had a great start. Still, I... really have to wonder why I don't feel more bitter, ahahah.
[Time rolls by in slow motionβ insufferably so. He catches that careful, measured exhale, whatever Solomon truly felt by his statement vanishing in a plume of breath. Forgetting memories... forgetting yourself. Why must they share so much in common?]
I don't want what was taken running off with someone else, if that's what you mean. [Pointed, a cold sort of guard to the words that tinges with something that doesn't fit in with the rest. Fear?]
[Another beat. This exhale pushes harder, shakes more noticeably, to try to push him away from it. He doesn't like it. He's not supposed to feel that way.
...]
Would I know any better either way, anyway? Can't I just choose to make new memories to fill in the spaces, rather than worrying about the past?
[What used to matter so strongly now drifts in and out like a boat on the tides. Reminders in moments, only to fade away like seafoam across the cacophony of time.]
And besides... I believe you're ignoring my question.
[Heh, nicked a nerve. The laugh that shakes out of him is decidedly childish, like a schoolboy amused he managed to get the better of his classmate. That kind of harmless cruelty.]
Oh dear... Your excuses could use some work. You're hardly believable.
[He continues to grin at Solomon, staring at him upside down from the infirmary bed, head tipped off the edge to better stare him down. Rude, needling, probing eyes.]
You're old enough to know better... Old enough to know that old memories are precious. They make up the whole of what you are. Lose them, and you lose irreplaceable bits of yourself.
Tell you how to live? Hardly. If you don't care to listen, that's your choice. Forget I said anything.
[Hehe. Forget.]
If you truly believe what you've told me, then I have no reason to press the matter. But I suspect you're not half as composed as you'd like others to think.
And here you wonder why you do not understand anyone. [Really, he's acting like such a child...]
Nishi, I know you've lost things. I'm sorry I do not feel the same as you, when it comes to that. And I do not say the things I do to rip the importance from you.
If you want someone to relate to, then I'll listen. But you cannot assume I am exactly the same and push me away when I am not, or we will never see eye to eye.
[Touching... a lecture on empathy. Char tilts his head, letting the words settle, deliberate in his stillness. He could dismiss them, of course, but something in Solomon's tone compels him to pause, to consider.
His eyes drift upward, imagining the stars beyond the ceiling. The thought tugs at him, a yearning he's carried even before reclaiming his previous self.]
Don't flatter yourself that you understand me, Solomon. You know nothing, and yet you presume to lecture.
[Don't try to take a gentle tone with him, either. He's no lost child.]
I'm not looking for a sounding board. Do try to remember that.
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.
[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 virtuousβ only fragments of a man who could never endure once compartmentalizing became impossible.
He sighs, rocking uprightβ 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?
[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 thinkβ 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. Butβ 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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Who knows? Maybe I was just looking to pick a fight. That would track with your experience.
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Me? I've fought with only one person besides yourself, and at least I had a productive end goal in mind when I did it.
Here I'd think you're projecting.
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Do you think a proper fight would settle the score between us? Solomon.
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I don't see that there is anything to settle, Danya. If a fight didn't make you feel better the first time, I don't see how it will help you now.
Are you unhappy that I don't hate you like you wanted?
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He's one ill-advised turn from dumping himself on the floor, but againβ so what? If Char had any reason to believe he'd meet his maker by way of the floor tiles, he'd have perished a long time ago. Liken him to a cockroach and you'll find the comparison apt.]
I don't know what you feel about me. If you hated me, I'd understand you.
[He can relate to the feeling of hating someone's guts. He can't relate to the unnerving enigma of a man before him, yet he feels like he should.]
What have you been through in your life that you can so easily compartmentalize your feelings? Does it not dull them, obscuring them away?
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[Sure, you might manage both if you were lucky. But had he learned anything from trying to kill Solomon? Had he, from trying to kill Sika? Would he, if he tried again?
When the question is redirected, it only earns a chuckle, humorless.]
Mm. I wouldn't quite know where to start. But... some things dull our hearts for the better of our goals. It's a consequence you have to live with.
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Instead, Sika remained mum. She taunted him, telling him to beg, and he fell hard on old habits and snapped at herβ just as she'd intended. What Char and Sika have in common, all the threads that link them, is subsumed by the weight of reality, knowing Sika must hurt others without explanation for the sake of bearing her burdens alone. He thought, perhaps foolishly, that they could carry each other's weight.
Rather than leave himself lying here as a painful, exposed nerve, Char comments only on Solomon's response to his question.]
Well said, but you speak like a man with lifetimes of experience doing exactly that. Why is that?
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It depends why you ask, I guess.
No one ever truly believed in me. So I took it on myself and myself alone to find a path forward with my life. And to go against all that is correct in the world means to bring all the emotions that come with it.
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They are alike, and the violent return of his memories has made that all the more clear to Char. That's why he always grated on his nerves. That's why he couldn't help but be on guard around him. Right now, it's just... annoying, more than anything.]
Don't steal my material.
[There's a little Nishi left in him after all.]
...Mm, but was it that they didn't believe in you, or were they afraid of you?
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Both.
People tend to fear the things they don't understand, and it's not like I had a great start. Still, I... really have to wonder why I don't feel more bitter, ahahah.
Why do you ask?
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Ah, but wait. Don't derail him with a question yet. He is thinking..............]
...Lost your memories, did you? Or was it your feelings?
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I forget plenty in both accounts. Even if there's now something missing, it's not like this is something I can avoid forever.
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Do you think you're better off for it?
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I don't want what was taken running off with someone else, if that's what you mean. [Pointed, a cold sort of guard to the words that tinges with something that doesn't fit in with the rest. Fear?]
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...]
Would I know any better either way, anyway? Can't I just choose to make new memories to fill in the spaces, rather than worrying about the past?
[What used to matter so strongly now drifts in and out like a boat on the tides. Reminders in moments, only to fade away like seafoam across the cacophony of time.]
And besides... I believe you're ignoring my question.
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Oh dear... Your excuses could use some work. You're hardly believable.
[He continues to grin at Solomon, staring at him upside down from the infirmary bed, head tipped off the edge to better stare him down. Rude, needling, probing eyes.]
You're old enough to know better... Old enough to know that old memories are precious. They make up the whole of what you are. Lose them, and you lose irreplaceable bits of yourself.
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[No one else did for the longest time, and even then it was with caveats. Why should Nishi be any different?]
But if you want to tell me how to live, by all means. I'm sure you have plenty of pointers from however long a life you've seen.
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[Hehe. Forget.]
If you truly believe what you've told me, then I have no reason to press the matter. But I suspect you're not half as composed as you'd like others to think.
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Nishi, I know you've lost things. I'm sorry I do not feel the same as you, when it comes to that. And I do not say the things I do to rip the importance from you.
If you want someone to relate to, then I'll listen. But you cannot assume I am exactly the same and push me away when I am not, or we will never see eye to eye.
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His eyes drift upward, imagining the stars beyond the ceiling. The thought tugs at him, a yearning he's carried even before reclaiming his previous self.]
Don't flatter yourself that you understand me, Solomon. You know nothing, and yet you presume to lecture.
[Don't try to take a gentle tone with him, either. He's no lost child.]
I'm not looking for a sounding board. Do try to remember that.
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[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.
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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 virtuousβ only fragments of a man who could never endure once compartmentalizing became impossible.
He sighs, rocking uprightβ 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.
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...]
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?
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I don't know precisely... how to describe it to you. Butβ 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.]
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