[He says, with some muted annoyance. Just hit him. Why not. He's tired, and be can imagine how tired and in pain Sakyou is. He'll allow him this.]
[But this reaction...just how deep does the self-loathing go? Its a shock to Mandricardo, who thought he was the one to be Mr. Self Hatred around here. He speaks up again, trying to keep his voice level.]
...Tell me what happened. At least...tell me that. [And a beat.] Bradley told me he saw me...wherever he was. If I was there, and did somethin' to you...I'm sorry. It wasn't me, but...
[It goes all the way down to hell lads, all the way down...
At least he doesn't go for a second hit, even though his body tenses like he's going to for a second. He's very tempted. But more than that, he just wants to have enough energy and strength to tear away and go dash into the woods never to be seen again. GOD.
Wow though can't believe Mandricardo really did torture both parties. He freezes up a little, tension winding through his exhausted body like a coil at the mention of that. It's a little easier like this, at least. Not having to look him directly in the face.]
Don't apologize. [Immediately, and also confirming that He Was Indeed There.] I-- Sieghart-dono said that it wasn't real. And it isn't something... to apologize for. We all have people we wish to protect.
[It's an odd feeling, knowing that for these people, he was some kind of horrible illusion, used to traumatize and destroy. His own body tenses at the thought- so was he a villain, perhaps? Just like before...?]
...If you had to hurt or kill that other me...its okay. You had to do what you had to do. Especially...if I was going to cause ya harm.
[He adjusts his grip slightly, turning his face to rest in the crook of the other's neck.]
I want to protect you, though. Even if its from a villain like me.
[He probably smells nasty and he's also sweaty and bloody, but he's not going to push Mandricardo away. His heart thuds in his chest, still running on the dregs of adrenaline and the unpleasantness of All Of This, but... he's quiet. For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. Then, softly:]
...I didn't. [Hurt or kill him.] The situation was set up in a way that encouraged us to do so, but the second time we tried, we were able to do what we needed to without directly harming you three.
[Though he realizes that this will just sound more confusing out of context, and honestly - hilariously - the actual events aren't most of what he takes the biggest issue with. So, after a sigh:]
We were brought to another world and made to complete an objective. Steal an airship, get to the ruins. Any time we died in our attempts to do so, we were brought back to a moment slightly before our deaths. At the ruins, you and two of the others were there - holding hostages. People from our own worlds, I presume... I believe your objective was to kill them to protect your own loved ones.
[He says all of this very clinically, like he's reciting something he read somewhere else.
Can you believe a lad's self-hatred is so intense that he made it sound like he was the one who killed Mandricardo, absolutely hilarious.]
[But...hostages? And dying, returning to moments before death...from what little he knows of it, it does sound like a video game. Multiple lives to try, and try again.]
...I see. Thanks for tellin' me. That sounds...terrible. Funny thing, really...all my loved ones are here. Home isn't a thing for me, anymore.
[But he knows that isn't the point. The point is that even not hurting that other him still shook him up, somehow, made him go deep into this whole "you can't be with me" spiral. He turns his head, giving the other a level look, and gives another stroke over his head.]
...So you guys found a way around it. That's good. But...were you thinking you'd do something similar as that other me? Do somethin' so drastic as taking hostages to save others?
It sure was a ride, though! Sure was!! He purses his lips a little at the remark about his home; further affirmation that the people there really were likely fake, at least. He doesn't want to ruminate on it too deeply.
But Sakyou finally shifts to meet that level look. Compared to the fury, there's just - a strange combination of exhaustion and iciness. That had been part of the problem, without a doubt, albeit just one part.]
To save others, I would kill without hesitation if there was no other way. I would dirty my hands in any way necessary.
[That's what he does. He protects fiercely in the bloodiest of ways. The only reason he hadn't killed is because they'd failed once and found an immediate solution the second time, but he had been ready.]
[Beneaty the elegance, the grace, the smooth exterior lies a tempest, it seems. Like the gentle surface of the ocean, with a whirlpool ready to tug anything in.]
[But there's no judgement from him on that. He just lets out a little sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. Even with his own exhaustion, he knows how much Sakyou must be feeling on his own.]
...After my father was killed...I took out my rage on others. I was bloodthirsty, ready to fight whatever I saw. It was only when I was told who did the deed that I became focused. But even then, that feeling never went away.
[A persisting wrath, ready to burn and destroy where it could.]
Even now...I don't think I would be someone to shy away from that. Better me who kills than leave that to someone else. My hands are already dirty, so...might as well. So...I get it. I do.
Maybe it is similar, then. Maybe a little more similar than he'd thought.
It's an ugliness that Sakyou does his best to keep hidden, unless he's actively trying to push people away; in that case, he puts as much of it on display as he can bear to. Like a celestial body, the intensity of his hatred and fury burn white-hot at his core, largely hidden by his polite and mild demeanor. But one crack is all it takes, right? One crack and the hideous insides are exposed, bubbling to the surface and rocking the shell of his carefully curated presentation to bits.
It's similar, but it's still not the same. He's too exhausted to try hammering that point home, though. The longer he goes without moving, the more his body aches. He closes his eyes; breathing in and out, the expansion of his ribs sends thrums of pain up his spine and fanning across his sides.]
...It never does go away, does it? [He doesn't anticipate that happening so easily even if-- when-- he succeeds. How unfortunate. How sad.]
When one walks down such a path, there's no place to rest. There is no turning back. Once your hands are stained, all you can do is keep them to yourself, so no one else gets caught in the mess you leave behind.
[...Maybe it's a little comforting to know he's not the only one, in a cruel and twisted way.]
[Its a stain in and of itself, after all. Maybe that's what Sakyou's tattoo meant. A lingering dark film, unable to be cleansed.]
I mean...look at me. I died, and I'm still dealing with it.
[He shifts slightly, getting a bit uncomfortable with the weight, but unwilling to let Sakyou go. His arms move to continue to hold the other im an embrace, one hand at the back of the other's neck where that tattoo was printed. His fingers rest there, gently.]
...That's why I don't...reach out to others, usually. They don't need to deal with my sins, my failures. I don't want to unload it on others. Its all my problem, in the end. I'm the problem. It's...how it is, and how it always will be.
[It is a miserable life, and yet, it's one that he'd picked himself, more or less understanding the consequences of doing so. He'd said it before - when living a life destined to be cut short, it's best not to know any vibrant colors.
Sometimes, it's better to tuck yourself far away from others and ensure you can't impact them, even if it means trading out a better, softer life.]
I wish that you didn't have to know it.
[...Maybe if he were a less damaged person, he'd know the right elegant words to say, here. He'd know how to say that Mandricardo isn't the problem without looking like a hypocrite, or encourage him to try reaching out to others, anyway. But he isn't, so the best he can do is this; the genuine wish that this sort of misery wasn't inflicted on him.
He shifts a little, then. The hand at his neck reminds him of the words printed there; it makes him want to draw away and ignore the ugly reminder.]
[It's almost like he physically shrinks away from the statement, like the idea of someone wishing for his happiness is that unsettling to him. He also averts his gaze after a second or two. He feels too seen; he's not sure that he hates it entirely, and that's something that sits strangely.
On a sigh out:] ...I can still walk. I'd rather not trouble you twice.
[Mandricardo getting in on the business of carrying distressed Sakyous around, damn.]
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no subject
[He says, with some muted annoyance. Just hit him. Why not. He's tired, and be can imagine how tired and in pain Sakyou is. He'll allow him this.]
[But this reaction...just how deep does the self-loathing go? Its a shock to Mandricardo, who thought he was the one to be Mr. Self Hatred around here. He speaks up again, trying to keep his voice level.]
...Tell me what happened. At least...tell me that. [And a beat.] Bradley told me he saw me...wherever he was. If I was there, and did somethin' to you...I'm sorry. It wasn't me, but...
[It feels like he has to apologize, somehow.]
no subject
At least he doesn't go for a second hit, even though his body tenses like he's going to for a second. He's very tempted. But more than that, he just wants to have enough energy and strength to tear away and go dash into the woods never to be seen again. GOD.
Wow though can't believe Mandricardo really did torture both parties. He freezes up a little, tension winding through his exhausted body like a coil at the mention of that. It's a little easier like this, at least. Not having to look him directly in the face.]
Don't apologize. [Immediately, and also confirming that He Was Indeed There.] I-- Sieghart-dono said that it wasn't real. And it isn't something... to apologize for. We all have people we wish to protect.
no subject
[It's an odd feeling, knowing that for these people, he was some kind of horrible illusion, used to traumatize and destroy. His own body tenses at the thought- so was he a villain, perhaps? Just like before...?]
...If you had to hurt or kill that other me...its okay. You had to do what you had to do. Especially...if I was going to cause ya harm.
[He adjusts his grip slightly, turning his face to rest in the crook of the other's neck.]
I want to protect you, though. Even if its from a villain like me.
no subject
...I didn't. [Hurt or kill him.] The situation was set up in a way that encouraged us to do so, but the second time we tried, we were able to do what we needed to without directly harming you three.
[Though he realizes that this will just sound more confusing out of context, and honestly - hilariously - the actual events aren't most of what he takes the biggest issue with. So, after a sigh:]
We were brought to another world and made to complete an objective. Steal an airship, get to the ruins. Any time we died in our attempts to do so, we were brought back to a moment slightly before our deaths. At the ruins, you and two of the others were there - holding hostages. People from our own worlds, I presume... I believe your objective was to kill them to protect your own loved ones.
[He says all of this very clinically, like he's reciting something he read somewhere else.
Can you believe a lad's self-hatred is so intense that he made it sound like he was the one who killed Mandricardo, absolutely hilarious.]
no subject
[shakes sakyou]
[But...hostages? And dying, returning to moments before death...from what little he knows of it, it does sound like a video game. Multiple lives to try, and try again.]
...I see. Thanks for tellin' me. That sounds...terrible. Funny thing, really...all my loved ones are here. Home isn't a thing for me, anymore.
[But he knows that isn't the point. The point is that even not hurting that other him still shook him up, somehow, made him go deep into this whole "you can't be with me" spiral. He turns his head, giving the other a level look, and gives another stroke over his head.]
...So you guys found a way around it. That's good. But...were you thinking you'd do something similar as that other me? Do somethin' so drastic as taking hostages to save others?
no subject
It sure was a ride, though! Sure was!! He purses his lips a little at the remark about his home; further affirmation that the people there really were likely fake, at least. He doesn't want to ruminate on it too deeply.
But Sakyou finally shifts to meet that level look. Compared to the fury, there's just - a strange combination of exhaustion and iciness. That had been part of the problem, without a doubt, albeit just one part.]
To save others, I would kill without hesitation if there was no other way. I would dirty my hands in any way necessary.
[That's what he does. He protects fiercely in the bloodiest of ways. The only reason he hadn't killed is because they'd failed once and found an immediate solution the second time, but he had been ready.]
no subject
[Beneaty the elegance, the grace, the smooth exterior lies a tempest, it seems. Like the gentle surface of the ocean, with a whirlpool ready to tug anything in.]
[But there's no judgement from him on that. He just lets out a little sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. Even with his own exhaustion, he knows how much Sakyou must be feeling on his own.]
...After my father was killed...I took out my rage on others. I was bloodthirsty, ready to fight whatever I saw. It was only when I was told who did the deed that I became focused. But even then, that feeling never went away.
[A persisting wrath, ready to burn and destroy where it could.]
Even now...I don't think I would be someone to shy away from that. Better me who kills than leave that to someone else. My hands are already dirty, so...might as well. So...I get it. I do.
no subject
Maybe it is similar, then. Maybe a little more similar than he'd thought.
It's an ugliness that Sakyou does his best to keep hidden, unless he's actively trying to push people away; in that case, he puts as much of it on display as he can bear to. Like a celestial body, the intensity of his hatred and fury burn white-hot at his core, largely hidden by his polite and mild demeanor. But one crack is all it takes, right? One crack and the hideous insides are exposed, bubbling to the surface and rocking the shell of his carefully curated presentation to bits.
It's similar, but it's still not the same. He's too exhausted to try hammering that point home, though. The longer he goes without moving, the more his body aches. He closes his eyes; breathing in and out, the expansion of his ribs sends thrums of pain up his spine and fanning across his sides.]
...It never does go away, does it? [He doesn't anticipate that happening so easily even if-- when-- he succeeds. How unfortunate. How sad.]
When one walks down such a path, there's no place to rest. There is no turning back. Once your hands are stained, all you can do is keep them to yourself, so no one else gets caught in the mess you leave behind.
[...Maybe it's a little comforting to know he's not the only one, in a cruel and twisted way.]
no subject
[Its a stain in and of itself, after all. Maybe that's what Sakyou's tattoo meant. A lingering dark film, unable to be cleansed.]
I mean...look at me. I died, and I'm still dealing with it.
[He shifts slightly, getting a bit uncomfortable with the weight, but unwilling to let Sakyou go. His arms move to continue to hold the other im an embrace, one hand at the back of the other's neck where that tattoo was printed. His fingers rest there, gently.]
...That's why I don't...reach out to others, usually. They don't need to deal with my sins, my failures. I don't want to unload it on others. Its all my problem, in the end. I'm the problem. It's...how it is, and how it always will be.
It's a miserable life, isn't it...?
no subject
Sometimes, it's better to tuck yourself far away from others and ensure you can't impact them, even if it means trading out a better, softer life.]
I wish that you didn't have to know it.
[...Maybe if he were a less damaged person, he'd know the right elegant words to say, here. He'd know how to say that Mandricardo isn't the problem without looking like a hypocrite, or encourage him to try reaching out to others, anyway. But he isn't, so the best he can do is this; the genuine wish that this sort of misery wasn't inflicted on him.
He shifts a little, then. The hand at his neck reminds him of the words printed there; it makes him want to draw away and ignore the ugly reminder.]
—You can let go. I won't run.
[Perhaps...]
no subject
[Even if Sakyou thinks that's impossible.]
[The next statement gets Mandricardo to turn his head, give him a considering look, dark eyes to dark eyes. His grip loosens, slightly.]
...Will you allow me to carry you back?
no subject
On a sigh out:] ...I can still walk. I'd rather not trouble you twice.
[Mandricardo getting in on the business of carrying distressed Sakyous around, damn.]