[there's a pause, when he says this, because she really does not have a strong argument. but that's the thing about the memory he just saw. she'd come to terms with it. letting herself hope for this in particular feels like stepping on coals.
When the shadows take you, you find yourself in the hallway of a high school, with a woman explaining to you how cursed spirits are created.
When Tsukumo shares the information with you—that only non-sorcerers can create the cursed spirits that are responsible for the deaths of so many sorcerers—the thoughts that you've been having spill out without you being able to stop them.
Because you're tired, and you're alone. The life of a sorcerer is nothing but mission after mission, swallowing the disgusting taste of cursed spirits one after the other, your sanity and health both slipping piece by piece. You're tired of sacrificing yourself, and, no matter how impossible it feels, you would give anything for it to stop. ]
it's the tired nature of it - it's the wanting it to stop, it's the desperation of a kid who has been pushed to his limit and never given any sort of reprieve. her metal heart aches. it aches so bad, because this is what she was talking about before. all of the adults have failed him.
it takes a second, and then she turns to him and puts her hands gently on his face, looking at him.]
... You don't have to resort to that. It won't make you feel any better.
[ For a second, Geto looks- nervous. Because that is the ugliest part of him, and he thinks that most people here can see that he's not a normal teenager, but not that he's a not a normal teenager with genocidal thoughts.
He looks like he might flinch away from her, but holds steady. Showing guilt will only make things worse. ]
I don't think anything would. That's not what's important.
[yeah yeah she's known a lot of teenagers with genocidal thoughts, this is alright. what she wants to do so help. because it doesn't have to be that way, and because scolding or shouting at at a kid who is backed into a corner is...
well. there was a reason she was so angry about what happened to karma.]
What's important, then?
[gentle. not pushy - he doesn't have to tell her. she can probably guess. but that's not the point. she's listening.]
Killing a bunch of innocent people who have lives, and families, and favorite colors and favorite foods, memories of people they've loved - it's what Gortash did. It's what he did to me. It's what he wanted to do to the people in my home, because he thought he knew best.
There's no meaning in that. It's senseless. It's empty.
[she keeps his gaze, if he'll let her.]
It won't solve anything. You'll still be locked into a world that wants to use you until you're a husk, just in a brand new, fucked up way.
[ It's hard to empathize, and think of the non-sorcerers infesting Japan the same way he sees Karlach. She might see the way he thinks "it's not the same", even though, logically, she's right. It's an emotional reaction, born of frustration and exhaustion.
But still, he doesn't argue. He'd only sound immature, and he knows it. ]
Shit hits people differently, and it weighs differently. Doesn't matter if it's ten or two or two hundred. Especially when you've got nothing to hold onto.
[she lets go of his face finally, but she strokes his hair back carefully as she does.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He furrows his brows. ]
But we'll all die anyway if we're sacrificed. Why not take the chance?
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[there's a pause, when he says this, because she really does not have a strong argument. but that's the thing about the memory he just saw. she'd come to terms with it. letting herself hope for this in particular feels like stepping on coals.
it's scary.]
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... I think it's worth trying. We don't have much to lose anyway. [ ... ] But it's your life. You get to decide what to do with it.
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I don't want to die. [she says, finally, looking at him.] I really, really... don't want to die.
[in the most exhausted way possible.]
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That's not asking for a lot. [ Squeezes her arm. It's warm... ] You deserve better than the last ten years of your life being... torment.
So I think you should be selfish.
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Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I will be, I don't know. But thank you.
[also memshare me back]
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But wow! Shadows are back...
When the shadows take you, you find yourself in the hallway of a high school, with a woman explaining to you how cursed spirits are created.
Maybe you should just get rid of all non-sorcerers.
Because you're tired, and you're alone. The life of a sorcerer is nothing but mission after mission, swallowing the disgusting taste of cursed spirits one after the other, your sanity and health both slipping piece by piece. You're tired of sacrificing yourself, and, no matter how impossible it feels, you would give anything for it to stop. ]
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it's the tired nature of it - it's the wanting it to stop, it's the desperation of a kid who has been pushed to his limit and never given any sort of reprieve. her metal heart aches. it aches so bad, because this is what she was talking about before. all of the adults have failed him.
it takes a second, and then she turns to him and puts her hands gently on his face, looking at him.]
... You don't have to resort to that. It won't make you feel any better.
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He looks like he might flinch away from her, but holds steady. Showing guilt will only make things worse. ]
I don't think anything would. That's not what's important.
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well. there was a reason she was so angry about what happened to karma.]
What's important, then?
[gentle. not pushy - he doesn't have to tell her. she can probably guess. but that's not the point. she's listening.]
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Doing something that has meaning.
[ Not a great way to describing wanting to kill people. ]
Fighting curses endlessly, and letting sorcerers die in this impossible fight can't be all there is.
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[she has not let go of his face yet, sorry buddy. a pause, then maybe abruptly:]
Do you think I deserved what happened to me?
[there's a point to this,]
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No.
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Killing a bunch of innocent people who have lives, and families, and favorite colors and favorite foods, memories of people they've loved - it's what Gortash did. It's what he did to me. It's what he wanted to do to the people in my home, because he thought he knew best.
There's no meaning in that. It's senseless. It's empty.
[she keeps his gaze, if he'll let her.]
It won't solve anything. You'll still be locked into a world that wants to use you until you're a husk, just in a brand new, fucked up way.
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But still, he doesn't argue. He'd only sound immature, and he knows it. ]
I don't think I'd succeed, anyway.
[ Resignation. ]
I know that much.
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[a beat.]
But it doesn't mean your problem is unfixable.
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I feel like I can't remember how to hope for better, which must seem kind of pathetic since you went suffered for ten years.
[ He's only been sad for one. ]
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Shit hits people differently, and it weighs differently. Doesn't matter if it's ten or two or two hundred. Especially when you've got nothing to hold onto.
[she lets go of his face finally, but she strokes his hair back carefully as she does.]
I've got hope for you. I can lend it.
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He doesn't mind the touch, eyes closing and a small smile on his face. ]
Thanks, Karlach. I hope you use some of it on yourself too.
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I'll do my best. [warmly! she likes to see that smile.]