I haven't said anything. But no, actually, I'm really not.
...
[ It's the same old, same old. What do I even tell her? Not that I care to lie, but I can only be so honest... Or you could just ask outright, you little eavesdropper! Or is that your idea of a tease? ]
[ He's just going to hand the rest of his turkey leg to Karlach. He never actually bit it he really just kept picking pieces off gently and even then, not a lot. ]
You can have the rest of this. If you want it. I don't mean to give you leftovers but.
[she takes it, and there's like this brief squiggle of thoughts that all sound annoyed and frustrated. she takes the turkey leg, though, without complaint.]
If you're sure? I don't mind leftovers or whatever. [...] I'm glad you're still here.
[a beat. and then she picks off a bit of the meat on the leg still and munches on it.]
Let's keep walking. I want to enjoy this place before it's gone.
...Sure. Before another corpse and more blood ruins our impressions of it.
[ He hates how that works. Show up in a new place... watch everyone get their enjoyment out of it where they can -- and then something bad happens. The doors shut. Someone dies. Sometimes you find them in the place you were at, where you should've known. Use another area to act as a fucked up execution stage with an audience... and then erase it all for something else new and shiny, start it over again.
Again. And again. It's less like one, slow event that takes across two months, but rather more like smaller cycles of seven days of the same thing. And that exhausts him so much more.
No escape.
Sorry thoughtshare week really is just like. Actually despite anything he says his internal mindspace is incredibly fucking depressing on a bass-boosted level. ]
[thoughtshare week makes her like five thousand times more worried about him, wow!
he's not wrong, is the thing. it's how she's been feeling about it too. the slow build up, the three days of something good, to lick their wounds, and then another four to drive the knife deeper. nothing really heals. like slapping an illusion over something to pretend.
he says this, and his thoughts reflect it, and there's a moment where she puts all the food down and away, and wipes her hands off, and just. stretches. pulls her arms behind her head as they turn to start walking again. tries to empty her head.
there's a dumb heat behind her eyes. she hates that.]
[ IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN... AS CONCERNING... IF THOUGHTSHARE CAME A LOT EARLIER I THINK... it would've still been a little bit concerning but not this bad. This game sure has been something for his development.
His gaze flickers briefly to her as she stretches, as they walk. ]
really hard to discern what the hell kind of thought it is that appears the moment she says that, because it's thoughtshare and not emotionshare, but it's something like any busywork thoughts he had were wiped clean in an instant to pure silence. ]
...
[ You probably shouldn't. ]
Thanks.
[ What a terrible response. How have we not done the 'responses to I love you' chart yet? ]
[help this han solo-ass response, we should do that chart...
but she doesn't seem to mind - she's heard worse responses. she's heard worse responses this game, in fact, so her thoughts are kind of just along the lines of being glad he didn't run away. after a moment, she brings a hand up to rub at her eyes, and then gives him a little smile.]
Yeah. Of course, meds.
[that's all that fucking matters in this place, is that.
a pause, and then she starts to lead the way to the ocean.]
[ He's quiet a moment, not following her immediately, needing a moment to think, even if it means there's a bit of distance placed between them as she sets off.
Love. He can't say that word so lightly. It carries too much weight, even without his whole marriage and widower's deal. Love is a cost, a magic and occult thing for him, a whispered thing on the loving arms of the goddess Sylvian who murmurs it softly in his ear, traces his spine even after all these years.
But. ]
I'm sorry I won't say it back, but I want you to live a happy life, Karlach.
[she says honestly, glancing over her shoulder. she knows he's got hang ups, and she absolutely knows that it's difficult for people to say. she's never had a problem with it, but she's a much more emotionally open person than just about anybody she's ever met.
for her, it's the only way to get the suffocating feeling out of her lungs, out of her throat. feelings too big for even her, too overwhelming to bite back.
her smile is genuine, and gentle.]
That means about as much to me as the words would, anyway.
I haven't established the... connection thing. It's a lot more annoying now that I'm partnerless, and given I already almost died once, I haven't exactly been eager to go through it again.
But if I do end up with a wish at some point in any of this, I want you to have it.
I don't have a home to return to. The Baron and Elise are dead and I'm not sure if I'm even in his will, and can't decide anyway whether that's for better or worse, seeing as I left an estate with a murder scene in its basement, my own blood and viscera in the vicinity. I imagine there would be questions if I were in the will, and if I wasn't, then... I don't know. It'll get repossessed? Either way, it won't be mine.
Discussed the idea of bringing Elise back, but then it would be in... that situation. Would the ritual have tainted her? I don't know. I still don't know if what I saw in Prehevil was real or not. I thought... perhaps, as long as she weas able to live her life again, move on and be happy, then it would be worth it even if I wasn't going to make it out alive. Then Laudna said something to me, but... but I don't think it'll work. I'm not the man she agreed to love anymore. The Baron's hands are spick and span compared to mine.
Perhaps I could just turn back time, though it'd be more than just a fraction of a second like Gale says would be the minimum necessary to save his own life. But there's no escaping the war, unless I wanted to become a deserter. And then what? I'd be just as helpless to do anything as if I never had.
...
There's nothing I could use the wish for myself that'd make me "happy". Is that enough of an answer?
I just got through telling you I love you, Daan, of course that's not enough of an answer.
[she holds her wrist, arms behind her back, clutching so, so tight.]
I think you're so used to life taking things from you that you've talked yourself out of happiness before you could even try to reach for it. And I think... if Elise was the sort of person you've described to me, she wouldn't care what's happened. She'd still love you, too.
I was happy. Even for a little while. I told you, she deigned to say yes to me.
[ Though maybe if I'd never met her... if I never met the Baron, showed him Sylvian magic was real and it exists... then he would've never reached his level of obsession. Maybe he wouldn't have killed her. ]
I'll never forget nor regret those years, but they're all in the past.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...
[ It's the same old, same old. What do I even tell her? Not that I care to lie, but I can only be so honest...
Or you could just ask outright, you little eavesdropper! Or is that your idea of a tease? ]
I'm still here. The fresh air is nice.
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catches her off guard, those definitely just a guy thoughts, and she blinks at him.]
What? [the fresh air is nice, she'll take that, but also.] Um. Sorry? I think?
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[a beat. what the fuck. do I ask? you're supposed to be pretending you don't hear.]
No, I know. You're nicer to me than that.
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[ He's just going to hand the rest of his turkey leg to Karlach. He never actually bit it he really just kept picking pieces off gently and even then, not a lot. ]
You can have the rest of this. If you want it. I don't mean to give you leftovers but.
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If you're sure? I don't mind leftovers or whatever. [...] I'm glad you're still here.
[a beat. and then she picks off a bit of the meat on the leg still and munches on it.]
Let's keep walking. I want to enjoy this place before it's gone.
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[ He hates how that works. Show up in a new place... watch everyone get their enjoyment out of it where they can -- and then something bad happens. The doors shut. Someone dies. Sometimes you find them in the place you were at, where you should've known. Use another area to act as a fucked up execution stage with an audience... and then erase it all for something else new and shiny, start it over again.
Again. And again. It's less like one, slow event that takes across two months, but rather more like smaller cycles of seven days of the same thing. And that exhausts him so much more.
No escape.
Sorry thoughtshare week really is just like. Actually despite anything he says his internal mindspace is incredibly fucking depressing on a bass-boosted level. ]
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he's not wrong, is the thing. it's how she's been feeling about it too. the slow build up, the three days of something good, to lick their wounds, and then another four to drive the knife deeper. nothing really heals. like slapping an illusion over something to pretend.
he says this, and his thoughts reflect it, and there's a moment where she puts all the food down and away, and wipes her hands off, and just. stretches. pulls her arms behind her head as they turn to start walking again. tries to empty her head.
there's a dumb heat behind her eyes. she hates that.]
-- Hey, Daan.
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His gaze flickers briefly to her as she stretches, as they walk. ]
Hm?
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Love you. [glances at him, her tail flicking back and forth.] Not in a romantic way. Just - you know.
[it feels important to tell him - there are people she wishes she could've said these sorts of things to that she didn't get to, so.]
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really hard to discern what the hell kind of thought it is that appears the moment she says that, because it's thoughtshare and not emotionshare, but it's something like any busywork thoughts he had were wiped clean in an instant to pure silence. ]
...
[ You probably shouldn't. ]
Thanks.
[ What a terrible response. How have we not done the 'responses to I love you' chart yet? ]
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but she doesn't seem to mind - she's heard worse responses. she's heard worse responses this game, in fact, so her thoughts are kind of just along the lines of being glad he didn't run away. after a moment, she brings a hand up to rub at her eyes, and then gives him a little smile.]
Yeah. Of course, meds.
[that's all that fucking matters in this place, is that.
a pause, and then she starts to lead the way to the ocean.]
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[ He's quiet a moment, not following her immediately, needing a moment to think, even if it means there's a bit of distance placed between them as she sets off.
Love. He can't say that word so lightly. It carries too much weight, even without his whole marriage and widower's deal. Love is a cost, a magic and occult thing for him, a whispered thing on the loving arms of the goddess Sylvian who murmurs it softly in his ear, traces his spine even after all these years.
But. ]
I'm sorry I won't say it back, but I want you to live a happy life, Karlach.
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[she says honestly, glancing over her shoulder. she knows he's got hang ups, and she absolutely knows that it's difficult for people to say. she's never had a problem with it, but she's a much more emotionally open person than just about anybody she's ever met.
for her, it's the only way to get the suffocating feeling out of her lungs, out of her throat. feelings too big for even her, too overwhelming to bite back.
her smile is genuine, and gentle.]
That means about as much to me as the words would, anyway.
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I haven't established the... connection thing. It's a lot more annoying now that I'm partnerless, and given I already almost died once, I haven't exactly been eager to go through it again.
But if I do end up with a wish at some point in any of this, I want you to have it.
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she doesn't, she keeps it back, but she's so obviously touched by this.]
... Daan. [she says, softer, and then:] You know I'm going to tell you to use a wish on yourself, if you get one.
[she turns around to face him fully.]
But that - I don't want to sound ungrateful. Thank you.
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[ It's been long enough. If I haven't decided after this long, I probably won't. May as well go somewhere that I know will work out. ]
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Don't go out of your way, okay? It actually makes me feel better to know you haven't got a partner. [...]
And if I'm not around if you do get one, I want you to promise to use it to make yourself happy somehow. Please.
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[it makes her sound a little heartbroken.]
I think you could do a lot with a wish.
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[ I've weighed my options already. ]
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I want to know what that means. What options.
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[ He's... so tired. ]
I don't have a home to return to. The Baron and Elise are dead and I'm not sure if I'm even in his will, and can't decide anyway whether that's for better or worse, seeing as I left an estate with a murder scene in its basement, my own blood and viscera in the vicinity. I imagine there would be questions if I were in the will, and if I wasn't, then... I don't know. It'll get repossessed? Either way, it won't be mine.
Discussed the idea of bringing Elise back, but then it would be in... that situation. Would the ritual have tainted her? I don't know. I still don't know if what I saw in Prehevil was real or not. I thought... perhaps, as long as she weas able to live her life again, move on and be happy, then it would be worth it even if I wasn't going to make it out alive. Then Laudna said something to me, but... but I don't think it'll work. I'm not the man she agreed to love anymore. The Baron's hands are spick and span compared to mine.
Perhaps I could just turn back time, though it'd be more than just a fraction of a second like Gale says would be the minimum necessary to save his own life. But there's no escaping the war, unless I wanted to become a deserter. And then what? I'd be just as helpless to do anything as if I never had.
...
There's nothing I could use the wish for myself that'd make me "happy". Is that enough of an answer?
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I just got through telling you I love you, Daan, of course that's not enough of an answer.
[she holds her wrist, arms behind her back, clutching so, so tight.]
I think you're so used to life taking things from you that you've talked yourself out of happiness before you could even try to reach for it. And I think... if Elise was the sort of person you've described to me, she wouldn't care what's happened. She'd still love you, too.
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[ Though maybe if I'd never met her... if I never met the Baron, showed him Sylvian magic was real and it exists... then he would've never reached his level of obsession. Maybe he wouldn't have killed her. ]
I'll never forget nor regret those years, but they're all in the past.
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