... I can see that. It says a lot about the strength of your heart - or... perhaps the strength of those who have cared for you, too.
[ and they're going to say something else, but the stardust starts up again - falling from the wisteria trees above.
[ for a single, shining moment, you felt like yourself. not like the shell of the person you've become, you've existed as. you were someone who worked hard, who lived up to your ambitions. someone who knew who you were who recognized your failures, but did the right thing anyway. even if you hated that person, you still did the right thing. for a moment, you were strong you were worthy. for a moment, your conviction flared like a sunburst, that you'd rather work hard for something than steal it from someone else, even if it hurt.
...but, as it has been every time in your life, you never stood a chance in the first place.
everything happens faster than you're ready for. the pain hits; it is white hot, unbelievable agony, worse than anything you've ever felt, as your life is sucked from your body instant by painstaking instant. blood drains from your veins, your tissues, and you see your hand go limp as the rest of it starts to travel up your body.
there's nothing to fight back against. there's nothing but death. for the second time, your death comes for you and you stare it in the face. you can't breathe. you can't do anything. you can only lay there and watch as your consciousness swims, your now pale and gaunt fingers twitching with every fresh jolt of pain, and your failures finally come calling to end your life once and for all.
what a pitiable existence.
you snap with the last of your strength as someone cries on you - you feel them, bleeding and sniffling and crying, getting snot all over your face, as the strength leaves your body, and as someone else comes to carefully lift your frail body and pull you into a hug, you find yourself sobbing like a child. everything in you shatters.
i wish i could have said goodbye, you think. your hand touches your forehead. you think. you think about her, you reach out for her voice. she responds back, confused - she doesn't know what's happening. good, good, you don't want her to. you are the best thing that could have happened to someone like me, you think. she calls your name. her voice is fading as you're fading.
...you were happy. or at least - maybe you were starting to be, starting to change, starting to be someone again, in a way you hadn't been. and now you'll leave and -
unfair. it's so unfair. are you allowed to air your grievances, the last things you have as your body withers, as someone takes the happiness you'd found and shatters it into a thousand glittering pieces again, right in front of your eyes?
the one holding you calls you good. it's laughable. you only ever wanted... all you ever wanted...
i couldn't even do that. you say, soft, you think her name, and her name is the last thing on your mind, as everything goes black.
as it turns out... what you've wanted never mattered. what you couldn't attain - that was the only thing that did.
oh. orion seems... surprised, and freezes, taking half a step back. ]
[ the memory makes her stagger. even dying, shinobu hasn't felt her life was pitiable or that what she wanted never mattered. there are some emotions... some thought trains that almost seem familiar to her, but it doesn't quite add up to her.
except orion has been looking away from her, now that they're in private, and his posture...
but even outside of all that, she thinks a death like that is heartbreaking. for orion to think so little of themself... it's painful. ]
[ she has not heard him say those words to her exactly, but she knows the sentiments he holds and the kind of person he doesn't think he is but wants to be, so even if she's wrong.... even if she is wrong (even if it clicks now, why they were so receptive to her during the games)—
she reaches for their hands, for orion's hands. ]
Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you have always been a kind person for as long as I have known you, if in the weeks here at this hotel, or... weeks in other places.
And forgive me.... for not seeking you out sooner.
well. she can't see orion's face, but... maybe she'll get the sense that he's surprised.
he doesn't say anything about it, at first. shinobu, after all, knows him - if she's right, she knows him, anyway - and knows that perhaps his thoughts fall somewhere along the line of you remember who i am?
the tension in orion's shoulders loosens, a little, and then, they sag. he lets her take his hands.
and says quietly: ] ...all is forgiven. [ please. ] There's nothing to apologize for, Lady Shinobu.
[ and that's confirmation enough. ] Perhaps I should be the one who apologizes.
I can't imagine what the first week was like for you. For you two to— [ lose each other like that, if the memory is what she thinks it is. it's not fair, but since when has anything about these murder games ever been fair? it's never been about fairness. ]
.... Is it too much to ask if the staff can be in touch with the dearly departed?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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she smiles. ]
Thank you. It truly was remembering everyone I cared about that helped me stand back up.
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... I can see that. It says a lot about the strength of your heart - or... perhaps the strength of those who have cared for you, too.
[ and they're going to say something else, but the stardust starts up again - falling from the wisteria trees above.
oh. orion seems... surprised, and freezes, taking half a step back. ]
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except orion has been looking away from her, now that they're in private, and his posture...
but even outside of all that, she thinks a death like that is heartbreaking. for orion to think so little of themself... it's painful. ]
What is it that you wanted?
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they're quiet, for a moment, tense. like they want to run away, or like they don't want to answer.
but it comes. soft, a little bitter. ]
... To be a kind and perfect person.
[ but he couldn't even do that. ]
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she reaches for their hands, for orion's hands. ]
Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you have always been a kind person for as long as I have known you, if in the weeks here at this hotel, or... weeks in other places.
And forgive me.... for not seeking you out sooner.
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well. she can't see orion's face, but... maybe she'll get the sense that he's surprised.
he doesn't say anything about it, at first. shinobu, after all, knows him - if she's right, she knows him, anyway - and knows that perhaps his thoughts fall somewhere along the line of you remember who i am?
the tension in orion's shoulders loosens, a little, and then, they sag. he lets her take his hands.
and says quietly: ] ...all is forgiven. [ please. ] There's nothing to apologize for, Lady Shinobu.
[ and that's confirmation enough. ] Perhaps I should be the one who apologizes.
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[ even if there could be a couple things.... ]
I can't imagine what the first week was like for you. For you two to— [ lose each other like that, if the memory is what she thinks it is. it's not fair, but since when has anything about these murder games ever been fair? it's never been about fairness. ]
.... Is it too much to ask if the staff can be in touch with the dearly departed?
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they're quiet, for a long moment, and then glance away. ]
... I have not spoken with her, no.
[ :') ]
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Have not? Instead of cannot?
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Both, I suppose.
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I will tell you I think you should talk to her, if you can.
But if you can't reach where she is at all, then I won't pursue my second line of questioning.
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... ]
The situation is complicated. [ ... but after a moment, softer: ] ... If I could, I would.
[ :( ]
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