[HE'S THE CROUCHING GLOOMY HIDDEN DEPRESSO WITH A POISED EXTERIOR. Sometimes you're just out here!!
In any case, his point had been that he's not even worth a sentence like "I don't want to see you hurt", regardless of explanations or anything else. It's always better for people to keep away, and he prefers it if he doesn't take up even a second in someone else's mind.
He's already thrown a lot on poor Mandricardo's plate tonight, though, so he'll keep the rest of that to himself for the time being. Instead, he only says:]
It's precisely because of that kindness that I've said what I've said. [GOD. His expression is a little hard to read then, as he shifts the blade against the flame.]
...May I ask you something? I don't want to pry either, and it's a personal question, so you don't have to answer.
[DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT. They can just be two depressos lads being depressed together, it's fine.
Sakyou just gives him a little bit of a look at that, waiting to see if he'll continue on his own. When he doesn't, though, he just inclines his head forward a little and continues with his own question.]
It's definitely a personal question though, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Mandricardo tapped out. The fact that he answers - especially given the answer - is something Sakyou understands the weight of.
He's quiet for a moment, eyes still fixed on the blade.]
...I understand. [Loss! Shit sucks!] It's a difficult thing, isn't it? ...I don't know the differences in death between places represented here, but in my world, crossing the river Sanzu is something only the dead can do. Once they've left our world, they're gone from it.
[A dignified voice. A high stature. A calming hand. A noble aura.]
[And then nothing, nothing left of that.]
...
["Once they're gone from it"...Mandricardo doesn't want to think about what his father would have thought, if he stayed and saw everything his son did.]
It is a difficult thing. It's the thing that made me leave my kingdom behind. And I guess if I had just...let him go...
[Sakyou doesn't prompt further, though he waits for a moment or two before saying anything. Letting go... It's an unthinkable thing, really. In so very many ways.]
One cannot let go of the dead so easily.
[And perhaps vice versa, in some cases.
He lapses into silence again for a moment, glancing back up and over, beyond the heated edge of his blade.]
[Mandricardo's face sets into something serious and hard, like immutable stone, and it seems like it belongs to an older man, not the young one currently standing here.]
[It's a look he doesn't seem all that surprised by, honestly. Even setting aside the strangeness of a Heroic Spirit and all that might mean for one's existence, loss will take a soul and make it ancient. Vengeance will do much the same. It's something he can deeply understand.
It's hard to let go of the dead, after all.]
Were you able to succeed?
[And what a question that is, to lead with. He doesn't need to know the circumstances that led to Mandricardo seeking vengeance, and he doesn't need to know whether or not it was justified. He doesn't need the "other side" of a story in a situation like this.
What matters above all else is being able to set the restless souls of the dead at ease, when their killers would otherwise live so freely.]
That, too, is something he deeply understands. He looks for a second like he wants to reach out, but he's not a tactile person to begin with, and his hands are already occupied. The silence doesn't stretch on quite as long this time, but perhaps it's heavier than before.
Quietly, a murmur that barely sounds over the crackle of the flame:]
...Living with that is like living with a curse.
[The shackle of failure, ever chaining one to their past.]
[It almost feels like an understatement. To live with all this knowledge that everything that happened was all in vain is just like being stabbed through the heart.]
[Mandricardo looks distant.]
It's not like I could do anything about it now. The past is dead, y'know. Everyone back then from my life is either dead or...well, like me.
[It just seems futile to think about accomplishing anything right now.]
[It's a strange thing to think about - both the notion of existing so far into the future that everyone you knew is dead, and the idea of leaving the past behind even then.
He repeats once more:] One cannot leave the dead behind so easily.
[Whether it's a person or the past itself. It's hard to shake, isn't it? Even if it's futile, isn't it hard to let it go? Impossible, even?
There are other questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't know how far Mandricardo's willingness to discuss this will stretch. He's already done more than his fair share, anyway; it isn't right to ask for any more.]
...I'm sorry for asking you to discuss something so unpleasant. I was just reminded of someone I lost, earlier.
[And even like this, a Servant, a magical copy given life, and then what, having to carry the burden of memories on his back regardless? Like an unbreakable weight, pushing him down.]
[He lets out a huff, finally turning back to face Sakyou.]
It's fine. It is what it is. It's hardly like some kinda big secret. [Though it probably is, because NO ONE KNOWS HIS LEGEND AND HE'S A SIDE CHARACTER!!! SUCKS!!!!!] And someone you lost...?
[A pause.]
You don't have to answer, but...did you succeed? With yours...?
[He guesses not. "Living with that is like living a curse". It doesn't take a genius to recognize that comes from a familiar place that knows what he's been through.]
Sakyou just assumes that means his legend is very well-known wherever he came from, though! Even if he himself doesn't know it, that's par for the course given everything else.
In any case - haha, yeah. HE SURE DIDN'T. There's a flicker in his expression that speaks to that same guilt, the weight of humiliation and failure and misery that haunts like a ghost in its own right. But it's there and gone; what shines through stronger is a fierceness, a sharpness, an absolute determination that would burn down anything, including itself.
He doesn't hesitate to answer.]
No. But I will.
[He refuses to give up. He can't let it go. It won't let him go. There's simply no other way.]
To live in a world where evil like that goes unpunished... It's something I can't tolerate. I will return the suffering they've caused a hundredfold, with my own hands.
[There's a look of brief admiration, some softening of Mandricardo's expression, because even though Sakyou is, in this moment, speaking with such a burning determination that sharpens him like a bleeding sword, it's something that he's awed by. Mandricardo thought he, himself, could stand like that.]
[And then failure came, like a strangling curse, to take it all away.]
...I...I believe in your power to make that happen.
[How can he not? He may be a Heroic Spirit, but it is true heroes who he looks up to. Those who seem to shrug things off, and move ahead. Wow. That's true strength.]
[It's - a little surprising, honestly. Hearing that. He's gotten so used to the one person he's come to know trying to dissuade him at every turn that hearing encouragement is almost more startling than anything.
But it's nice, honestly. To hear that someone believes in his ability to serve justice. To know that it comes from someone who understands intimately the agony of loss, and of failure. The spiteful fire in him softens again; he's certainly nothing to admire, but the support? The acceptance? It's a nice change.
His head inclines forward a little.]
There should be no world in which the actions of the vile have no consequences. It's simply that there's no other way forward; one must continue, whatever the cost.
[He doesn't know about strength or power, but he sure has resolve in spades!! YEEHAW. Speaking of resolve, he looks down at the metal again, and:]
[wow HE EVEN SAYS IT IN A COOL WAY!! MANDRICARDO IS SHOOK]
[But more seriously, this is new to him. It wasn't as if he discussed his plans back then, when alive. Nobody stood in his way to stop it, nobody patted his back and encouraged it. Why would they? He was at the top of the world. Nobody would argue against the word of a...]
Oh. Of course. Sure. [And he's stepping forward to take the torch in hand again.] But that's right. Actions have consequences. They must come, whatever they may be.
[Even if it knocks you down, never to come up again.]
[That's the way of the world, isn't it? Actions have consequences. Consequences create cycles. It's difficult to break through them, once they've been created - and so many are created over and over again.]
Yes... Whatever they may be. [Haha!! Hah. WELL. Anyway, without further delay:] --Excuse me; I'll be treating it now.
[And giving just enough time for Mandricardo to do so if he chooses, he'll lay the blunt edge of the burning blade against the cuts running across the fingers of his left hand. It makes a disgusting sound! And also probably smells bad!! He flinches, biting the inside of his cheek, but otherwise there's no outward indication that he just seared his own skin shut. Sometimes you just do what you gotta do.
His right hand is shaking a little when he withdraws the blade, but otherwise, he seems like, disturbingly fine.]
[He flinches - how could he not, it looks and sounds so brutal, vaguely like the sounds of war - but he stays where he is with the torch. Goodness.]
[Sakyou has a will of iron on top of that sharp cutting determination? Exactly like a sword. Some people just have all the luck, it seems, to become like a weapon to their core.]
If I don't move quickly, the metal will lose too much of its heat.
[ONLY FORWARD FOR SAKYOU SAKYOUSON!!!
Which is to say, he gives the fingers on his left hand a little testing flex, before switching his grip. Right hand next; it follows the same pattern, the same sear. He'll have to tend to the burns, but with metal at this temperature, blisters aren't an issue. It's much easier to care for a surface burn than a deep, unsewn cut, moreover - and it's less dangerous than leaving something that deep bleeding.
He takes a breath in after, moving to set the sword carefully on the floor, mindful not to let it touch anything flammable.]
[Another flinch, but there it goes. The sear of burning flesh. It tickles his nose.]
H-Hold on, let me put this back and come and dress it up...
[He rushes back to return the tiki torch to the porch, before coming back. He pulls out the yellow cloth from before, long like a scarf, but tougher material than the cashmere scarf they got in the welcome backpack.]
[He tears it in half with his teeth as he approaches, making sure not to step on the sword. God, is he glad that no one else in the dorm to see this.]
[IMAGINE SOMEONE JUST WALKING IN TO THE SMELL OF BURNING FLESH AND BLOOD.
He will wait patiently while Mandricardo runs around like the helpful lad he is, though. He still feels guilty about being this burdensome, but he doesn't bother voicing it aloud again.
At the question, without a pause:]
Left, if you'd please. [He'll hold that one out! It's clear this is the hand he favors.] The right doesn't matter as much, as long as this one is fine.
[Sakyou a leftie!! Wow. He'll move ahead and wrap one piece of the cloth around the palm of the hand, not too tight as to cause terrible discomfort, but tight enough so it won't be loose. He ties it well, before gesturing for the other.]
[A leftie!! He's perfectly still while Mandricardo works, only moving to flex his fingers once it's bandaged. He then moves to pick up his sword, ensuring he can grip the blade without any fuss, and then nods.]
Thank you. [Other handsie out! What a... cute, wholesome thread.......
Eventually, quietly:]
It was my sister. [The person he'd been reminded of. Mandricardo hasn't asked and he said he wouldn't pry, but Sakyou will share, anyway. It's something to connect over, unfortunately.] She was killed along with our parents when I was young.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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In any case, his point had been that he's not even worth a sentence like "I don't want to see you hurt", regardless of explanations or anything else. It's always better for people to keep away, and he prefers it if he doesn't take up even a second in someone else's mind.
He's already thrown a lot on poor Mandricardo's plate tonight, though, so he'll keep the rest of that to himself for the time being. Instead, he only says:]
It's precisely because of that kindness that I've said what I've said. [GOD. His expression is a little hard to read then, as he shifts the blade against the flame.]
...May I ask you something? I don't want to pry either, and it's a personal question, so you don't have to answer.
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Kindness...
[Its not that he's troubled by the word, but his frown deepens ever so slightly at it. Him being kind...]
...Um. Yeah? Go ahead?
[He's a little confused, but he nods.]
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Sakyou just gives him a little bit of a look at that, waiting to see if he'll continue on his own. When he doesn't, though, he just inclines his head forward a little and continues with his own question.]
Have you ever lost someone close to you?
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[Yeah, that's a deeply personal question. It's like a dark gloomy curtain comes over his face, and he glances away.]
[Someone close to him...]
[It only takes a short moment before he answers.]
Yeah. My father.
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It's definitely a personal question though, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Mandricardo tapped out. The fact that he answers - especially given the answer - is something Sakyou understands the weight of.
He's quiet for a moment, eyes still fixed on the blade.]
...I understand. [Loss! Shit sucks!] It's a difficult thing, isn't it? ...I don't know the differences in death between places represented here, but in my world, crossing the river Sanzu is something only the dead can do. Once they've left our world, they're gone from it.
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[And then nothing, nothing left of that.]
...
["Once they're gone from it"...Mandricardo doesn't want to think about what his father would have thought, if he stayed and saw everything his son did.]
It is a difficult thing. It's the thing that made me leave my kingdom behind. And I guess if I had just...let him go...
[Things wouldn't have happened the way they did.]
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One cannot let go of the dead so easily.
[And perhaps vice versa, in some cases.
He lapses into silence again for a moment, glancing back up and over, beyond the heated edge of his blade.]
...Why did that prompt you to leave your kingdom?
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[Another long pause.]
[Mandricardo's face sets into something serious and hard, like immutable stone, and it seems like it belongs to an older man, not the young one currently standing here.]
I wished to avenge him.
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It's hard to let go of the dead, after all.]
Were you able to succeed?
[And what a question that is, to lead with. He doesn't need to know the circumstances that led to Mandricardo seeking vengeance, and he doesn't need to know whether or not it was justified. He doesn't need the "other side" of a story in a situation like this.
What matters above all else is being able to set the restless souls of the dead at ease, when their killers would otherwise live so freely.]
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[He had everything in his hands, and yet he...]
No.
[A man now trembling at the thought of failure, because, after all, what was hanging over his head from the past...?]
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Well.
That, too, is something he deeply understands. He looks for a second like he wants to reach out, but he's not a tactile person to begin with, and his hands are already occupied. The silence doesn't stretch on quite as long this time, but perhaps it's heavier than before.
Quietly, a murmur that barely sounds over the crackle of the flame:]
...Living with that is like living with a curse.
[The shackle of failure, ever chaining one to their past.]
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[It almost feels like an understatement. To live with all this knowledge that everything that happened was all in vain is just like being stabbed through the heart.]
[Mandricardo looks distant.]
It's not like I could do anything about it now. The past is dead, y'know. Everyone back then from my life is either dead or...well, like me.
[It just seems futile to think about accomplishing anything right now.]
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He repeats once more:] One cannot leave the dead behind so easily.
[Whether it's a person or the past itself. It's hard to shake, isn't it? Even if it's futile, isn't it hard to let it go? Impossible, even?
There are other questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't know how far Mandricardo's willingness to discuss this will stretch. He's already done more than his fair share, anyway; it isn't right to ask for any more.]
...I'm sorry for asking you to discuss something so unpleasant. I was just reminded of someone I lost, earlier.
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[And even like this, a Servant, a magical copy given life, and then what, having to carry the burden of memories on his back regardless? Like an unbreakable weight, pushing him down.]
[He lets out a huff, finally turning back to face Sakyou.]
It's fine. It is what it is. It's hardly like some kinda big secret. [Though it probably is, because NO ONE KNOWS HIS LEGEND AND HE'S A SIDE CHARACTER!!! SUCKS!!!!!] And someone you lost...?
[A pause.]
You don't have to answer, but...did you succeed? With yours...?
[He guesses not. "Living with that is like living a curse". It doesn't take a genius to recognize that comes from a familiar place that knows what he's been through.]
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Sakyou just assumes that means his legend is very well-known wherever he came from, though! Even if he himself doesn't know it, that's par for the course given everything else.
In any case - haha, yeah. HE SURE DIDN'T. There's a flicker in his expression that speaks to that same guilt, the weight of humiliation and failure and misery that haunts like a ghost in its own right. But it's there and gone; what shines through stronger is a fierceness, a sharpness, an absolute determination that would burn down anything, including itself.
He doesn't hesitate to answer.]
No. But I will.
[He refuses to give up. He can't let it go. It won't let him go. There's simply no other way.]
To live in a world where evil like that goes unpunished... It's something I can't tolerate. I will return the suffering they've caused a hundredfold, with my own hands.
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[There's a look of brief admiration, some softening of Mandricardo's expression, because even though Sakyou is, in this moment, speaking with such a burning determination that sharpens him like a bleeding sword, it's something that he's awed by. Mandricardo thought he, himself, could stand like that.]
[And then failure came, like a strangling curse, to take it all away.]
...I...I believe in your power to make that happen.
[How can he not? He may be a Heroic Spirit, but it is true heroes who he looks up to. Those who seem to shrug things off, and move ahead. Wow. That's true strength.]
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But it's nice, honestly. To hear that someone believes in his ability to serve justice. To know that it comes from someone who understands intimately the agony of loss, and of failure. The spiteful fire in him softens again; he's certainly nothing to admire, but the support? The acceptance? It's a nice change.
His head inclines forward a little.]
There should be no world in which the actions of the vile have no consequences. It's simply that there's no other way forward; one must continue, whatever the cost.
[He doesn't know about strength or power, but he sure has resolve in spades!! YEEHAW. Speaking of resolve, he looks down at the metal again, and:]
--May you hold this?
[The torch, which he holds out.]
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[But more seriously, this is new to him. It wasn't as if he discussed his plans back then, when alive. Nobody stood in his way to stop it, nobody patted his back and encouraged it. Why would they? He was at the top of the world. Nobody would argue against the word of a...]
Oh. Of course. Sure. [And he's stepping forward to take the torch in hand again.] But that's right. Actions have consequences. They must come, whatever they may be.
[Even if it knocks you down, never to come up again.]
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Yes... Whatever they may be. [Haha!! Hah. WELL. Anyway, without further delay:] --Excuse me; I'll be treating it now.
[And giving just enough time for Mandricardo to do so if he chooses, he'll lay the blunt edge of the burning blade against the cuts running across the fingers of his left hand. It makes a disgusting sound! And also probably smells bad!! He flinches, biting the inside of his cheek, but otherwise there's no outward indication that he just seared his own skin shut. Sometimes you just do what you gotta do.
His right hand is shaking a little when he withdraws the blade, but otherwise, he seems like, disturbingly fine.]
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[Sakyou has a will of iron on top of that sharp cutting determination? Exactly like a sword. Some people just have all the luck, it seems, to become like a weapon to their core.]
...Hey, take a break if you need to.
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[ONLY FORWARD FOR SAKYOU SAKYOUSON!!!
Which is to say, he gives the fingers on his left hand a little testing flex, before switching his grip. Right hand next; it follows the same pattern, the same sear. He'll have to tend to the burns, but with metal at this temperature, blisters aren't an issue. It's much easier to care for a surface burn than a deep, unsewn cut, moreover - and it's less dangerous than leaving something that deep bleeding.
He takes a breath in after, moving to set the sword carefully on the floor, mindful not to let it touch anything flammable.]
That should be enough.
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[GO FOR IT REVENGE MAN]]
[Another flinch, but there it goes. The sear of burning flesh. It tickles his nose.]
H-Hold on, let me put this back and come and dress it up...
[He rushes back to return the tiki torch to the porch, before coming back. He pulls out the yellow cloth from before, long like a scarf, but tougher material than the cashmere scarf they got in the welcome backpack.]
[He tears it in half with his teeth as he approaches, making sure not to step on the sword. God, is he glad that no one else in the dorm to see this.]
Which one do you want me to wrap first?
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He will wait patiently while Mandricardo runs around like the helpful lad he is, though. He still feels guilty about being this burdensome, but he doesn't bother voicing it aloud again.
At the question, without a pause:]
Left, if you'd please. [He'll hold that one out! It's clear this is the hand he favors.] The right doesn't matter as much, as long as this one is fine.
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[Sakyou a leftie!! Wow. He'll move ahead and wrap one piece of the cloth around the palm of the hand, not too tight as to cause terrible discomfort, but tight enough so it won't be loose. He ties it well, before gesturing for the other.]
It's okay, right? Anyways, I'll do the next one.
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Thank you. [Other handsie out! What a... cute, wholesome thread.......
Eventually, quietly:]
It was my sister. [The person he'd been reminded of. Mandricardo hasn't asked and he said he wouldn't pry, but Sakyou will share, anyway. It's something to connect over, unfortunately.] She was killed along with our parents when I was young.
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