theairlock | First Investigation

I see. Then I shall leave you be.

[ She'll just look up at him with those tired, tired eyes. ]

...I hope whoever you're doing this for will appreciate it. Because if they don't... All you'll be doing is dooming them to a life of misery, bathed in the blood spilled for them.

[ Because she has a guess. People like him carry sadness for other people. And they'll do so, so much for them. Clarith gets that.

But she could never live with herself knowing how Mikaela would look at her once she found out the amount of blood that would be needed here to bring her back. And she's not sure Xander can, either. ]

She can look at me with all the hate possible in her heart, and I will accept it with a smile.

...You misunderstand, Xander. It won't be hatred of you that you'll have to bear. It will be the hatred of herself. That will be your ultimate "gift." And I hope to the gods you're truly as ready to bear it as you say you are.

[ She's going to just. Try to calm herself. She can already feel it. The paranoia threatening to take control of her. ]

She will bare it like all our line has before. Assuming she ever learns of it. Which I don't intend to allow.

[ She stares at him wearily a long time. As if boring right into him. ]

I know that grief you feel, Xander. You wear it in a shroud, and all who've worn it before you will wear it the same. We'll see it. And it eats away at you until you do things, to others or yourself. Because if you don't, you'll be torn apart by it--by the guilt. Whether it's just that you survived or what, it matters not.

[ The dead rose in Evillious. She heard tales of them from Yukina. She heard of them. So she knows. She knows enough. Of survivor's guilt. Of pain. Of grief. ]

So if you're truly that determined, Xander, then write your own damned misery in the blood of others. Write her misery. But don't lie to yourself. Your words are nothing more than the salve you use to feel better about it. Because some part of her, whether you say anything or not, will know that you paid for her in blood.

[ She won't respond anymore after that. ]

[Varric listens, and while he does, his fingers tighten against the rim of a table. He's pissed at Xander, but there's something in Clarith's words that burn inside his chest.

It felt like a platitude. Like a half-measure.]

There's a girl dead on the floor, and you're spouting out some self-righteous rant like you think somehow you're going to get through to him. You're trying to change him before we've even had a chance to grieve over a friend.

So. Let me tell you this right now. Men like him don't listen to words.

[There can be no half-measures. There can be no peace.]

The only way he'll listen is with a blade in his chest. And he'll get one. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day we'll get out of this. And only then will he be sorry.

[Someone had to say it, and the respect points for Varric just went up by a huge amount.]

[ She grips her skirt, knuckles going white as she listens. ]

And what's not "self-righteous" about what's bound to happen later? When we have this "trial?"

[ She has the faint feeling of similar scenarios, for some reason. Where people condemn the vulnerable in a sick and twisted game, turning on each other like starving dogs fighting over the same scrap of meat. ]

When we tear each other apart for this, trying to decide who killed someone and sending them to their own grim end? Because everyone, everyone has something they would kill for. But everyone will act like they wouldn't.

[ There's actual venom in her tone now. No, no, she has to hold it in. A deep breath, she's shaking. The bitterness of years and years without justice, a lifetime of suffering, is seeping through the cracks in her demeanor. Because the facade of kindness and peace is breaking down. But when she speaks again, it's in a much more measured tone. ]

If you want the truth from my own mouth, Sir Varric? I don't think anyone here can talk about self-righteousness when we'll all do whatever we can to survive and live another day, even salving our wounds with our platitudes to ourselves. That we wouldn't commit this crime. That we never will. Or if we have, we won't give in to this place and what's offered.

[ She's shaking. She really is. But something about the accusations. That it's just empty words. That she's wrong. That everything she does to survive and not treat everyone with suspicion is wrong tears at her. ]

So forgive me if mine is to act like I believe everyone is better than what I've been taught by experience and won't stab me in the back the moment I turn around. Because that's the kind of life I've lived, and if I give in to that bitterness, if I give in to that fear and don't try my hardest with words, then I fear what I will do.

[ She needs. She needs to calm down. To find Fukawa and maybe go off somewhere. Because right now, those horrible, ugly feelings telling her to just keep a knife on her at all times is there, telling her that it was right. That she should take out the others before they take her out. Because she's an easy target. Because the world is awful and cruel and all anyone will ever do is hurt each other. ]

That's... the nature of this game. And now that it's started, it may be a long time before it finally ends. We're going to watch all the people around us be tested with one motive after another-- bonds will be tested and people will crack. But those who survive will have to keep standing-- they will have to destroy the dreams of culprit after culprit in order to survive. Even those of us that fight their stupid motives will have the blood of everyone who fails to get away with their crimes on our hands.

What... what happens next isn't pretty. This is why we warned everyone.

But it's started anyway. A-and now the clock is already ticking. At the end of the day, someone dies for something-- everyone's goal... is their own survival.

This... is the Mutual Killing Life.

I won't stop you from doing what you want but... Junko Enoshima had to die-- I won't be surprised if he has to die too.

That's not being self-righteous. If whoever did this to Yuuri did it for themselves, then punishing them is justice. [The word itself makes his heart ache.] What would you rather we do? Pat them on the hand and let them keep walking around? That's only going to get more of us killed.

[He looks toward Nari, to Jane, to Pyrrha.]

I won't pretend like there aren't people here that have killed, or that they won't kill again. You're right about that much -- we can say whatever we want, but we all have things we would kill for. Even me.

But prayer and preaching won't help. Despite all the breath you've wasted, someone's been killed, and Xander's still forcing us to play this game. So it's time you stopped playing pretend, Most Holy. Because it's your naivety that's going to put a knife in your spine.

Spare me the talks of justice when if it existed, Yuuri wouldn't even be dead. Justice doesn't exist. The only people that "justice" exists for is the living, and it's all just revenge and survival.

[ The exterior of kindness is breaking away. Twenty years of bitterness and anger is being thrown at Varric. ]

The dead don't feel anything. They rot and become food for the worms, and the only ones who see any afterlife at all are few and far between. So this "justice" is never for them but us licking our own wounds and patting ourselves on the back because calling it that is far more palatable than calling it "revenge."

[ She's not a good nun. She follows Mikaela. Because if she doesn't have something, anything, she has no reason to keep on. ]

Don't act all high-and-mighty. What do you really know of anyone here? Why do you dare speak as if anyone here might not stab you in the back with a perfectly placed smile because you trusted any of us because you thought we'd all be truthful? Or does it only matter when it's someone you don't like, just like every other person in the world?

[ She abruptly stands. It's getting to be too much. Something in her is breaking, and she takes deep breaths. She needs to leave. She's beginning to hyperventilate. She won't say another word, just storm off, gripping her skirts. She doubts he'll listen. People just have their beliefs. That they're good and just. She doesn't really believe in justice.

If justice existed, Mikaela never would have died. ]

Clarith-san, wait--

[She shakes her head and turns to Varric, shaking her head.]

We need to get through this first. Whether or not we offer kindness to Xander-san, the first thing we need to do is worry about Yuuri-chan.

[Yurika will find a raised hand from nearby.]

Yuuri first, but if Miss Nun does that again, may I have permission to slap her? We don't need forgiveness talk during a trial. Just cold, hard facts.

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I hope this hurts, because it hurt to type

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