[ well, that's an answer at least, he'll take it. thinly: ]
Are you trying to argue that killing someone of your own volition and ruining your chances of going back to your sister was good for you? Have you not spent weeks telling me that you don't want to hurt people?
She's not. Or did you give this same, "you just ruined your chances of redemption" type talk to every single executioner that's been up there? To Yves and Yoji both? Brought up their old wounds?
I did not say you did. I said if you had killed Siffrin outside of the execution you might have. [ firmly. ] The execution is not what I'm talking about. Otherwise I'd be worried about myself, as well. Uruha and Yves were killed and sent to heal, and so this situation does not apply to them.
We would have had to kill you. We would have had to vote for you, had you killed Siffrin during trial. You understand how this would have been upsetting, yes?
Someone would have had to stand up there and execute you.
If you're come to scold me about a hypothetical then I have nothing to say. I don't know if you want me to apologise, or say I won't do it again, but it's past.
I was trying to explain to you why we stopped you, because you said we decided what was best for you. Because we care about your future. I don't need you to do either of those things.
I am not intending to scold you. [ he brings a hand up to rub at his face. ] I am... trying to hold out my hand, as always. Perhaps I am doing a poor job of it.
[ He turns his gaze away again. His room has a few string lights, courtesy of picking up someone else's leftovers at that event so long ago. It was so, so long ago -- somehow. He stares at one and its dim light. ]
I got it, Jiaoqiu. It was the tactical thing to do.
[ It makes logical sense, but he's still angry enough that he can't just sincerely answer 'thanks for stopping me'. Not when he closes his eyes and sees the nature of the body, the implications of it. Jiaoqiu isn't in danger of being socked right now -- the air lacks the tension Marcoh's exuded the last two days, but he's no happier for it. ]
... I don't think any of us were thinking tactically. That is far too clinical of a word. I wasn't. I was concerned for you.
[ that's genuine. a little softer. he's at least glad he isn't in danger of getting destroyed, but like - he's never really been all that scared of that, ever. ]
I am sorry. I wish that I could have done more for you. I couldn't follow on Friday, and I regretted that.
...Sounds too blase, he supposes. He's still mad in a lot of ways, a majority which leans on being quite anti-Siffrin right now, which is unfortunate. At the very minimum, they certainly were friends, or he'd have assumed anyhow.
Really it's just that his feelings are hurt, which is putting it very light and very one-dimensionally, but reducing it to solely that makes it easier to see over the blinders. ]
[ he figures he's probably trying to squeeze a lot of talking out of a man who doesn't really like to talk, this afternoon, after a whole lot of trauma. so he won't push much more, even if he'd really like to.
this answer makes the shaky self-esteem that he has trip and fall on its face, but he tries very hard to not take it in the worst way possible. silence for a moment: ]
[ He does suppose, well. Actually, he considered Jiaoqiu someone to keep an eye out for, look out for, protect. The feeling had only amplified since their first CYOA together, false memories implanted into them to be childhood friends, white-collar boy and stray. Marcoh was kind of mad at them all back then too, for throwing themselves after him. It's only really now that he's really thought the word friend with him, but he supposes so.
[ that makes it a little easier. he exhales slowly. ]
I care about you too, Marcoh. It is why I ever do anything that I do, as stupid or misguided as it may end up being.
[ this is funny because marcoh is also someone that jiaoqiu had assigned someone to look out for. it's a little different because of course jiaoqiu can't physically protect anybody, but it was more the emotional. he has his pride, the resistance to being looked after - but. he has always felt safe with marcoh.
[ Simply. Simple as that. There's nothing else to it because Marcoh doesn't make a habit out of hiding behind few words on purpose; he just uses the least amount of words possible sometimes, and this is one of them.
There are parts where he certainly disagreed about it but he can't rebuke it when Jiaoqiu puts it like that. He may not be able to see it all too well right now, but Marcoh's despondent expression melts just a little -- tired. Just pure tiredness. ]
[ He knows his, so-to-speak limits here. He's just laid down, not even really cleaned off after execution, hasn't really even redressed much since Thursday evening (don't worry he did take a shower by the end of the day later). Just blood and despondence, and that's kind of terrible vibes, he knows... ]
[ sometimes you deserve to nihility a little bit ok you can be luka ]
You don't need to be any sort of help.
I just don't want you to be alone if that isn't what you want. [ tail swish. ] Though perhaps I can at the very least bring you something to wipe your hands with...
[ For a second I was like WHO? ALIEN STAGE? LUCAS??? Before I remembered the fucking redhead is a Nihility for SOME reason. ]
Not really that I want to or don't want to be alone.
[ He won't chase anybody out but he isn't exactly seeking out companionship either. He's just counting down the seconds, minutes until it's tomorrow, when they said they'd all be back. He hasn't laid in this bed since last Saturday and certainly hadn't been on his own. A thought materialises.
How many days left? And it's crushing. Bereft of rage, he's just hurt. ]
[ he does understand that. just sort of not being able to care. a beat, and then: ]
I'll be right back.
[ and he'll head down the hallway to get a clean towel and wet it. he thinks at the very least making sure that his hands aren't covered in blood might... help a little. he wanders back into the room carefully, trying not to run into things, and then: ]
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Are you trying to argue that killing someone of your own volition and ruining your chances of going back to your sister was good for you? Have you not spent weeks telling me that you don't want to hurt people?
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[ He may be tired but he says this quite testily. ]
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Why? She's relevant.
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I do not understand the point of this talk.
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We would have had to kill you. We would have had to vote for you, had you killed Siffrin during trial. You understand how this would have been upsetting, yes?
Someone would have had to stand up there and execute you.
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If you're come to scold me about a hypothetical then I have nothing to say. I don't know if you want me to apologise, or say I won't do it again, but it's past.
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I was trying to explain to you why we stopped you, because you said we decided what was best for you. Because we care about your future. I don't need you to do either of those things.
I am not intending to scold you. [ he brings a hand up to rub at his face. ] I am... trying to hold out my hand, as always. Perhaps I am doing a poor job of it.
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I got it, Jiaoqiu. It was the tactical thing to do.
[ It makes logical sense, but he's still angry enough that he can't just sincerely answer 'thanks for stopping me'. Not when he closes his eyes and sees the nature of the body, the implications of it. Jiaoqiu isn't in danger of being socked right now -- the air lacks the tension Marcoh's exuded the last two days, but he's no happier for it. ]
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[ that's genuine. a little softer. he's at least glad he isn't in danger of getting destroyed, but like - he's never really been all that scared of that, ever. ]
I am sorry. I wish that I could have done more for you. I couldn't follow on Friday, and I regretted that.
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I don't know how many times I need to tell you that I did not want you to until you listen.
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... Yes, alright. [ he understands, but it still makes him sad. ]
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[ I just wish I was able to help you. ]
Will you answer one question for me?
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...Sounds too blase, he supposes. He's still mad in a lot of ways, a majority which leans on being quite anti-Siffrin right now, which is unfortunate. At the very minimum, they certainly were friends, or he'd have assumed anyhow.
Really it's just that his feelings are hurt, which is putting it very light and very one-dimensionally, but reducing it to solely that makes it easier to see over the blinders. ]
If that is how you saw it before.
[ Then yes. ]
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this answer makes the shaky self-esteem that he has trip and fall on its face, but he tries very hard to not take it in the worst way possible. silence for a moment: ]
Of course I saw it that way.
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[ He does suppose, well. Actually, he considered Jiaoqiu someone to keep an eye out for, look out for, protect. The feeling had only amplified since their first CYOA together, false memories implanted into them to be childhood friends, white-collar boy and stray. Marcoh was kind of mad at them all back then too, for throwing themselves after him. It's only really now that he's really thought the word friend with him, but he supposes so.
It'd be nice. ]
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I care about you too, Marcoh. It is why I ever do anything that I do, as stupid or misguided as it may end up being.
[ this is funny because marcoh is also someone that jiaoqiu had assigned someone to look out for. it's a little different because of course jiaoqiu can't physically protect anybody, but it was more the emotional. he has his pride, the resistance to being looked after - but. he has always felt safe with marcoh.
it hasn't changed much, even after everything. ]
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[ Simply. Simple as that. There's nothing else to it because Marcoh doesn't make a habit out of hiding behind few words on purpose; he just uses the least amount of words possible sometimes, and this is one of them.
There are parts where he certainly disagreed about it but he can't rebuke it when Jiaoqiu puts it like that. He may not be able to see it all too well right now, but Marcoh's despondent expression melts just a little -- tired. Just pure tiredness. ]
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after a moment: ]
I suppose that's all I wanted to say. I can leave you to it, if you'd like to be alone. Or I can stay and we don't need to talk. Whatever you'd like.
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I'm not going to be much help.
[ He knows his, so-to-speak limits here. He's just laid down, not even really cleaned off after execution, hasn't really even redressed much since Thursday evening (don't worry he did take a shower by the end of the day later). Just blood and despondence, and that's kind of terrible vibes, he knows... ]
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You don't need to be any sort of help.
I just don't want you to be alone if that isn't what you want. [ tail swish. ] Though perhaps I can at the very least bring you something to wipe your hands with...
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Not really that I want to or don't want to be alone.
[ He won't chase anybody out but he isn't exactly seeking out companionship either. He's just counting down the seconds, minutes until it's tomorrow, when they said they'd all be back. He hasn't laid in this bed since last Saturday and certainly hadn't been on his own. A thought materialises.
How many days left? And it's crushing. Bereft of rage, he's just hurt. ]
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Mm.
[ he does understand that. just sort of not being able to care. a beat, and then: ]
I'll be right back.
[ and he'll head down the hallway to get a clean towel and wet it. he thinks at the very least making sure that his hands aren't covered in blood might... help a little. he wanders back into the room carefully, trying not to run into things, and then: ]
... We still have a week left.
[ softer, as he crouches near the bed. ]
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