[I don't know, man. You can unlearn them if you have access to a necromancer who can help you while you open up your brain.
Anyway, she frowns, listening to all of this.]
Isn't that odd, though? If pretending here means avoiding one's problems even though they have a lot of useful information and access to an extremely talented necromancer, then - was it suggesting you'd failed to face them once again? Or was the meaning that this time you had faced up to something?
[TENABLE, LONG TERM SOLUTIONS THAT ACTUALLY WORK, HARROW
anyway he just. shrugs. because he doesn't really know either way? but he'll continue.]
It ... wanted us to make the obvious decision. We felt this urge - or, I suppose I'm assuming the others did too, by the way they reacted so quickly. That the only way we could get what we wanted was to trust only ourselves. The others had weapons, had motive, and if you didn't stop them, what would happen to you. To the ones you loved. To the wish you wanted so bad.
But I don't know, I-- if I couldn't tell who was real. Douman's suggestion made it sound so easy to them, but in that moment. [He looks at his hands at this.] I said I'd fight for Beauregard, and I'm fucking fighting every minute of my fucking day, but I said I wouldn't let this place drag me into muck and blood. Fuck that.
[She sort of stares at him while he says this, and then places her hands over his and squeezes, meeting his eyes with something in hers that looks a little like pride.]
What was the urge, specifically? This may be important.
[he pauses, while he struggles to put it to words.]
... You want it. You want what you desire more than anything else. Anybody else? They're nothing. They are in the way. This whole place has just been illusions. How do you know what's real and what isn't?
[It is something to think about, isn't it? She seems curious and thoughtful, and she even laughs a little, humorlessly.]
Hah. All along, I'd thought we failed. And I felt as you did - fuck it. If that was failure, I accept failure. But now I wonder if I misunderstood.
[But her gaze turns dark again, looking up at him with absolute seriousness.]
I am going to tell you something, because I have permission to do so from each of the four involved. It is not something we have spoken of other than with one another and the Avatars, and your dispensation is only to hear it, not to speak of it.
Furthermore, you will not pet me like a frightened little emotional support cat when I tell it. You will accept it as information relevant to your circumstances that I am choosing to convey to you.
[technically, he is the emotional support cat in this proposed scenario, but. he just removes his arm, clasping his cold hands together in his lap instead.]
[She's ignoring that joke. She'll just cross her arms across her chest.]
. . . Ours was gluttony. The whole of our adventure was themed for it - we were surrounded by ravenous giants, some in the form of people we knew, but revolting engorged versions of them, stuffing their faces with meat and fighting for scraps in between trying to consume us.
And at the end, as it was for you - a nigh impossible to ignore urge in the form of the base instinct at the heart of gluttony. We were hungry, Mollymauk. We were starving to death. We would have done anything to satiate that hunger, and what we were offered to satiate it was the flesh of the child.
But there was no noble choice, no moment of decision. We never decided to die rather than to do it. We scrambled and grasped pathetically at anything else, made desperate and futile decisions, ate from our own accumulated pieces of gore to avoid it until all of our energy was depleted and we simply died of hunger.
[She does stare him down directly in the eyes while she explains this, as though daring him to break his promise and try to be nice about it.]
When I say ours was easier, it is because we all felt there was no choice at all - it would have been impossible for any of us to do that to her, even in such a debased state as we were in. But as a result, we also left her behind in that hell. She wept for us as we died, begged us not to leave her. So I know that what we did was not "right," either. Nor do I think the others in your group were right to kill to protect what was theirs, nor do I think you were right, you contemptible ass, to abandon the vows you have made to survive.
[Her eyes glint with malice for a moment there, but then it's gone.]
What I mean to say is that, in both of our cases, if there was a right answer at all, I think it was in the form of a solution that neither of us saw.
[He was told not to pet at her like a child, so he doesn't. He simply listens, and accepts. This is one thing he actually good at. Listening, and accepting. The only reaction he has is his gaze flicks (or. as far as it's possible to tell. a shift of the light.) to the side when she calls him out on his attempts to slip back into the grave.]
I can only agree.
[There was no right answer. No perfect solution.]
... I did think about how-- When I saw that grave, I felt what they had felt. [The nein. putting him in that hole.] It'd be nice, almost. To be remembered like that. And breathing was so fucking hard and I thought, maybe, just for a moment I could go back. But I did promise I'd fight. And I won't leave anyone behind. That's the deal. So I kept breathing.
Being remembered is-- It's stupid. I came here because I want more than that.
[Yeah, well, not being remembered is pretty fucking stupid, too.
Anyway, she softens at that, nodding in recognition of his words.]
I want more for you, too. How pathetic, how offensive, if you didn't get to have it because you were being stubborn about some convincing illusion.
But if it's as you say, maybe you did win after all. You told them fuck it, and they taunted you for it and made you cold and stiff for it, but all of that is set dressing on the fact that a bluff was made and a bluff was called. I only wonder if the bluff was part of the design of the test, or whether it was a mercy on the test giver's part that won't be granted on the final. Best find out, don't you agree?
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no subject
Anyway, she frowns, listening to all of this.]
Isn't that odd, though? If pretending here means avoiding one's problems even though they have a lot of useful information and access to an extremely talented necromancer, then - was it suggesting you'd failed to face them once again? Or was the meaning that this time you had faced up to something?
no subject
anyway he just. shrugs. because he doesn't really know either way? but he'll continue.]
It ... wanted us to make the obvious decision. We felt this urge - or, I suppose I'm assuming the others did too, by the way they reacted so quickly. That the only way we could get what we wanted was to trust only ourselves. The others had weapons, had motive, and if you didn't stop them, what would happen to you. To the ones you loved. To the wish you wanted so bad.
But I don't know, I-- if I couldn't tell who was real. Douman's suggestion made it sound so easy to them, but in that moment. [He looks at his hands at this.] I said I'd fight for Beauregard, and I'm fucking fighting every minute of my fucking day, but I said I wouldn't let this place drag me into muck and blood. Fuck that.
no subject
What was the urge, specifically? This may be important.
no subject
... You want it. You want what you desire more than anything else. Anybody else? They're nothing. They are in the way. This whole place has just been illusions. How do you know what's real and what isn't?
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Greed, or . . . Envy. A distrust of the others. How they could turn on you. But greed seems to fit better, doesn't it?
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Hah. All along, I'd thought we failed. And I felt as you did - fuck it. If that was failure, I accept failure. But now I wonder if I misunderstood.
[But her gaze turns dark again, looking up at him with absolute seriousness.]
I am going to tell you something, because I have permission to do so from each of the four involved. It is not something we have spoken of other than with one another and the Avatars, and your dispensation is only to hear it, not to speak of it.
Furthermore, you will not pet me like a frightened little emotional support cat when I tell it. You will accept it as information relevant to your circumstances that I am choosing to convey to you.
Understood?
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Not even Frumpkin shall hear of it.
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[She's ignoring that joke. She'll just cross her arms across her chest.]
. . . Ours was gluttony. The whole of our adventure was themed for it - we were surrounded by ravenous giants, some in the form of people we knew, but revolting engorged versions of them, stuffing their faces with meat and fighting for scraps in between trying to consume us.
And at the end, as it was for you - a nigh impossible to ignore urge in the form of the base instinct at the heart of gluttony. We were hungry, Mollymauk. We were starving to death. We would have done anything to satiate that hunger, and what we were offered to satiate it was the flesh of the child.
But there was no noble choice, no moment of decision. We never decided to die rather than to do it. We scrambled and grasped pathetically at anything else, made desperate and futile decisions, ate from our own accumulated pieces of gore to avoid it until all of our energy was depleted and we simply died of hunger.
[She does stare him down directly in the eyes while she explains this, as though daring him to break his promise and try to be nice about it.]
When I say ours was easier, it is because we all felt there was no choice at all - it would have been impossible for any of us to do that to her, even in such a debased state as we were in. But as a result, we also left her behind in that hell. She wept for us as we died, begged us not to leave her. So I know that what we did was not "right," either. Nor do I think the others in your group were right to kill to protect what was theirs, nor do I think you were right, you contemptible ass, to abandon the vows you have made to survive.
[Her eyes glint with malice for a moment there, but then it's gone.]
What I mean to say is that, in both of our cases, if there was a right answer at all, I think it was in the form of a solution that neither of us saw.
no subject
I can only agree.
[There was no right answer. No perfect solution.]
... I did think about how-- When I saw that grave, I felt what they had felt. [The nein. putting him in that hole.] It'd be nice, almost. To be remembered like that. And breathing was so fucking hard and I thought, maybe, just for a moment I could go back. But I did promise I'd fight. And I won't leave anyone behind. That's the deal. So I kept breathing.
Being remembered is-- It's stupid. I came here because I want more than that.
no subject
Anyway, she softens at that, nodding in recognition of his words.]
I want more for you, too. How pathetic, how offensive, if you didn't get to have it because you were being stubborn about some convincing illusion.
But if it's as you say, maybe you did win after all. You told them fuck it, and they taunted you for it and made you cold and stiff for it, but all of that is set dressing on the fact that a bluff was made and a bluff was called. I only wonder if the bluff was part of the design of the test, or whether it was a mercy on the test giver's part that won't be granted on the final. Best find out, don't you agree?
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Again, I can only agree!
[he sniffs a bit, at the broken nose.]
Are you still prepared for our grand plan?
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I am. Are you?
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I am up and about. No problem.
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