[Man, it has been A Day™, all right, and the past couple ones before this haven't been a walk in the figurative park either. He'd come to the underwater bar for the same reason as Lu Bixing, really — that and its proximity to the indoor beach and convenience store, where he otherwise spends far, far too much of his time.
He's just drinking beer of whatever quality he can get, at this point. This isn't a time for fancy tastes, it's a time for unwinding.]
Better now than I was a few bells ago.
[He slides onto a stool and/or into a chair next to LBX, fully ready to hunch over his beer and nurse it sullenly.]
[He traces his fingers idly around the rim of his glass.]
Likely you've already guessed my reasons, but. My reluctance to comply was deliberate, back there. Not from any desire to make your life more difficult.
[ he just kind of looks at him for a moment - not angry, really, just thoughtful. it's times like these that it's obvious that he's a scientist, the sort of clever, observant person that's built everything from a school to nuclear weapons. ]
...I'd like to hear you say them. [ his reasons, that is. ]
[ it's not sharp, because it's - it's not unsurprised, but closer to an exhausted sort of scold or even more like disbelief and recognition, all wrapped up together. ]
I know precisely how he would've felt about that. It would have crushed him.
[He almost — snaps this, actually, like it prods at a painful emotion he's been nursing all day, a raw would he's figuratively been holding shut with his bare hands.]
And I would have done it. Do you really think I don't know exactly what it would mean?
[ well. he's not bothered by the snap, really, just kind of regarding him quietly, letting him take that rawness out on him, if he wants. ]
No. I know you do. [ that he knows anyway. of course he does. bixing's voice is very calm and quiet, as always, belaying not a single other emotion beyond something tinged with a little sadness. ] Trust me, I know.
You and Gideon both are like that, right? Brave. Protective. Willing to die so someone else gets to live. Lin is, too.
[Louisoix would've been patient that way, too. He always was. Strange how he feels like such a child again, beneath Bixing's scrutiny, and he takes a couple drinks of his beer to steady himself before subjecting himself to it once again.]
It's her responsibility. My responsibility.
[...]
She wouldn't have forgiven me either, for what it's worth.
[ he echoes, looking down at his cup, into the liquid, and he's quiet for a long time. ]
...You know, out of everything here that happens, every bad, awful thing we have week to week, there's one thing here that I hate more than anything else, and its our Thursday nights. [ it seems like a tangent, but, he rubs his thumb against the cold edge of his glass, and continues. ]
There's a reason. A long time ago, there was a serious battle between the Eighth Galaxy and some of our enemies who ambushed us from two sides in an attack we were mostly expecting, though not at the scale and ferocity of it. Lin Jingheng led his squadron ahead to protect a group of civilians, and he promised me that he'd come back through the underground channels we had between galaxies - lines that smugglers used. But I knew - I knew that it was unsafe, and I didn't think he'd come back, and so, I went to get him, or at least back him up. He'd already done something similar more times than I can count.
When I went to get him, his second in command was the one who offered to let me borrow one of her mechs. And when I got into her ship, I went to the elevator to go to the mech bay - and she flooded the bay with a neural anesthetic that put me to sleep against my will. On Lin's orders, because he didn't want me to follow, because he knew I'd be in danger.
When I woke up, he was dead.
All because he wanted to protect me, and the galaxy we'd built, and I had to pick up the pieces afterwards, and there were so many pieces. Every Thursday, I'm terrified that I'll be forced to fall asleep, and I wake up, and he'll be gone. I don't think that will ever go away. I'm still not over it. I won't ever be.
[ he finally glances up from the cup, at that. ]
...I know he's lost a lot - Rynlan and I have a lot in common, in more ways than you'd think. I don't have to tell you that, I'm sure. [ loss, after all - it's familiar. grief. the way rynlan recognized things in lu bixing he's tried very, very hard to hide. ] And I'll tell you this. If I lost Lin again, if he tried to die to save me, then I'd shatter apart in a way I don't think I could put myself back together. I don't think I'd want to live anymore at all.
...All that is to say, maybe Rynlan's better than I am. Maybe he could handle losing you and continuing to live on. [ even though he knows that he doesn't. ] But no one ever accounts for what happens after the moment of self sacrifice, either. No one ever thinks about what happens if someone saves your life, and when they're gone, you don't want to live.
[If he didn't understand the value of secrets as intimately as he does, or maybe just if he were more concerned about commiserating regardless of cost, he'd acknowledge that no, Rynlan isn't better than it, actually, and he knows it. That a significant part of his silence over the past eight bells had been spent inwardly weighing the costs. Fighting his own instincts against the reality of what such a sacrifice would do, of pitting adherence to his own honor against knowing full well that given the choice, Ryn would sooner die before him.
And maybe it would've come to that. Maybe Scaramouche would've gotten away with it, and they'd condemned an innocent man, and he would've blinked awake on execution island on a stage instead of in the audience, because that's just the sort of cruel way these things tend to go.
He breathes out slowly, and it shakes. He doesn't usually have the better part of a day to sit on a knife's edge contemplating the ramifications of his own imminent demise. It's stressful, to say the least — as much from awareness of the fallout it would've created as how it would actually feel to die.]
He asked me something, a few days back. That if we were all to find our way out of this somehow, if I would consider traveling to your galaxy for a time. To see if you had the means to extend my lifespan.
[Which. Does sort of implicate his knowledge of Ryn's feelings on the subject, even if he's not going to come right out and say them.]
I find it passing strange that we so rarely see anyone defending each other at these trials. We're all quick to condemn. Draw even the slightest hint of suspicion, and...
[He shrugs again.]
I could lose him and live on. I'm getting damned good at bearing the bitter taste of failing the people I care for. It's the standing by and doing nothing that I couldn't abide. That's the part I'd find unforgivable.
[ aha.. the first part has him smile a little, expression warming up with fondness. ]
...I'm not surprised - and we'd be happy to have you. Believe it or not, I offered a similar invitation to Gideon, too.
[ it's a qiming party!!! but, beyond that, he listens to everything thancred has to say, gently pressing his thumbs against his glass, stroking through the condensations for the sake of something to do with his hands, for the feeling of cold as something grounding. ]
I'd like it if you put that energy towards solving it instead of throwing yourself onto the closest stake....but, I get it. [ it's more facetious than anything else - not a real scold or a point against thancred, or anything. ] I think putting that same energy towards finding the truth so neither of you have to die for no reason is ideal. I know it's not always possible, but... well. I won't lecture you.
[ he huffs, and then, has a more familiar lu bixing smile, soft and genuine, sad. ] ...I'm sorry that you've had to lose so much, to have to build up that kind of tolerance, Thancred.
If we're speaking of failure to make contributions to the effort, you might start with those who decided to debate the sexual attractiveness of bees for the better part of the afternoon.
[But the point still stands. And he's literally through his first beer by now, with the way he's been hitting it, so he doesn't hesitate to get up and get himself another.]
Though mayhap we'll not see any others, now. With Scaramouche out, we're down to twenty. And if Barnes is to be believed, that means we're all eligible to make it through that party's doors.
Hah - true. It's so inefficient, the way we're made to do this. If we could go out in teams and investigate instead of one at a time, we wouldn't have to waste so much time waiting.
[ unfortunately lbx that's not the point of a murdergame
but, as thancred comes back, he sips from his own drink, finally putting his notes away. thancred gets his full attention. friendship ]
Mmm. I hope so, but... I don't know. It worries me, that what happened this week had little to do with the party itself. Honestly, our time would better be spent just focusing on building up our tolerance instead of trying to cut down numbers - logically, it doesn't make any sense to me why people would just jump to killing each other, but then again, I'm not a murderer. The last two were accidents, but this especially doesn't feel that way.
No, it rather does feel as though we're all puppets being pulled about on strings, doesn't it? This has been a game since the day we arrived. The problem is that the only ones who know the rules are also the ones enforcing them — and they aren't telling.
[This beer has nothing to do with tolerance and everything to do with profound sadness, that's for sure.]
Did you notice in Chandra's notes, his message to the person who was worried he might be targeted for being weak? He took the time to write, "I was right".
He had a working theory, and saw it proved true. I wonder what it was. Mayhap we should ask.
[ thancred showing off his crow mouth here as scaramouche gets puppeted around in execution
he makes a little noise, agreeing. ]
Mmm. I tried to get an answer from Scaramouche, but... if he wouldn't give one to me, I doubt he'd give one to almost anyone. Maybe Akira, but he stuck very firmly to what he said at the end.
[ that he wouldn't answer anything. lu bixing's been pretty close with that feisty little cat, and even he couldn't squirrel a full answer out of him. ] In terms of Scaramouche targeting him... I don't know. He's got a little bit of a chip on his shoulder, but I don't know the exact reasons of why he might've chosen to attack Chandra - only that I'm sure it has nothing to do with our situation.
I'm sure we can try and find out through the phone messages, though.
[ lbx tomorrow at execution like haha what the fuck?? ]
The impression Uriel and Zagreus gave was something of a hunt. Everyone falls asleep; a few come awake. They discovered each other and had no motive to play the game, up until tragedy struck and forced Uriel's hand. Chandra's impressions seem to be similar, and though I'm only speculating based on Childe and Scaramouche's temperaments, I wouldn't be surprised if they did decide to "play".
[He shakes his head.]
There's no way to know. And barring some means of passing our intentions to them in code, I doubt those who control the lines of communication will allow any true assistance to pass through.
[ its ok he's used to lin's crow mouth this is normal
anyway. he listens to this and nods along. ]
Mmm. [ the noise is thoughtful - he finally takes another sip of his own drink, tilting his head from side to side. ] Maybe so. All we can really do is theorize.
[ as usual. ] About this, about what's to come, now that our numbers will drop to 20. And the future is dark, and full of terrors.
[ that's a little wryly, at least - a quoted joke as he lifts his glass. ] Still. No way to go but forward, huh? And try and unravel these mysteries for as much time as we have left.
If we've new, mysterious alcoholic substances turning up in the next few days — count me in for helping you test the effects, all right? I was remiss in offering assistance this past one.
[He takes a long drink of his beer, and then: ]
Though gods help me, if Rynlan spills coffee on me again I may well strangle him myself.
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no subject
He's just drinking beer of whatever quality he can get, at this point. This isn't a time for fancy tastes, it's a time for unwinding.]
Better now than I was a few bells ago.
[He slides onto a stool and/or into a chair next to LBX, fully ready to hunch over his beer and nurse it sullenly.]
...I owe you something of an apology, I suppose.
no subject
Why?
no subject
Likely you've already guessed my reasons, but. My reluctance to comply was deliberate, back there. Not from any desire to make your life more difficult.
no subject
...I'd like to hear you say them. [ his reasons, that is. ]
no subject
[He shrugs slightly.]
And if it had gone that way, I would have offered myself as a possibility, with no definitive evidence to prove otherwise.
no subject
[ it's not sharp, because it's - it's not unsurprised, but closer to an exhausted sort of scold or even more like disbelief and recognition, all wrapped up together. ]
How do you think he would've felt about that?
no subject
[He almost — snaps this, actually, like it prods at a painful emotion he's been nursing all day, a raw would he's figuratively been holding shut with his bare hands.]
And I would have done it. Do you really think I don't know exactly what it would mean?
no subject
No. I know you do. [ that he knows anyway. of course he does. bixing's voice is very calm and quiet, as always, belaying not a single other emotion beyond something tinged with a little sadness. ] Trust me, I know.
You and Gideon both are like that, right? Brave. Protective. Willing to die so someone else gets to live. Lin is, too.
no subject
[Louisoix would've been patient that way, too. He always was. Strange how he feels like such a child again, beneath Bixing's scrutiny, and he takes a couple drinks of his beer to steady himself before subjecting himself to it once again.]
It's her responsibility. My responsibility.
[...]
She wouldn't have forgiven me either, for what it's worth.
no subject
[ he echoes, looking down at his cup, into the liquid, and he's quiet for a long time. ]
...You know, out of everything here that happens, every bad, awful thing we have week to week, there's one thing here that I hate more than anything else, and its our Thursday nights. [ it seems like a tangent, but, he rubs his thumb against the cold edge of his glass, and continues. ]
There's a reason. A long time ago, there was a serious battle between the Eighth Galaxy and some of our enemies who ambushed us from two sides in an attack we were mostly expecting, though not at the scale and ferocity of it. Lin Jingheng led his squadron ahead to protect a group of civilians, and he promised me that he'd come back through the underground channels we had between galaxies - lines that smugglers used. But I knew - I knew that it was unsafe, and I didn't think he'd come back, and so, I went to get him, or at least back him up. He'd already done something similar more times than I can count.
When I went to get him, his second in command was the one who offered to let me borrow one of her mechs. And when I got into her ship, I went to the elevator to go to the mech bay - and she flooded the bay with a neural anesthetic that put me to sleep against my will. On Lin's orders, because he didn't want me to follow, because he knew I'd be in danger.
When I woke up, he was dead.
All because he wanted to protect me, and the galaxy we'd built, and I had to pick up the pieces afterwards, and there were so many pieces. Every Thursday, I'm terrified that I'll be forced to fall asleep, and I wake up, and he'll be gone. I don't think that will ever go away. I'm still not over it. I won't ever be.
[ he finally glances up from the cup, at that. ]
...I know he's lost a lot - Rynlan and I have a lot in common, in more ways than you'd think. I don't have to tell you that, I'm sure. [ loss, after all - it's familiar. grief. the way rynlan recognized things in lu bixing he's tried very, very hard to hide. ] And I'll tell you this. If I lost Lin again, if he tried to die to save me, then I'd shatter apart in a way I don't think I could put myself back together. I don't think I'd want to live anymore at all.
...All that is to say, maybe Rynlan's better than I am. Maybe he could handle losing you and continuing to live on. [ even though he knows that he doesn't. ] But no one ever accounts for what happens after the moment of self sacrifice, either. No one ever thinks about what happens if someone saves your life, and when they're gone, you don't want to live.
no subject
And maybe it would've come to that. Maybe Scaramouche would've gotten away with it, and they'd condemned an innocent man, and he would've blinked awake on execution island on a stage instead of in the audience, because that's just the sort of cruel way these things tend to go.
He breathes out slowly, and it shakes. He doesn't usually have the better part of a day to sit on a knife's edge contemplating the ramifications of his own imminent demise. It's stressful, to say the least — as much from awareness of the fallout it would've created as how it would actually feel to die.]
He asked me something, a few days back. That if we were all to find our way out of this somehow, if I would consider traveling to your galaxy for a time. To see if you had the means to extend my lifespan.
[Which. Does sort of implicate his knowledge of Ryn's feelings on the subject, even if he's not going to come right out and say them.]
I find it passing strange that we so rarely see anyone defending each other at these trials. We're all quick to condemn. Draw even the slightest hint of suspicion, and...
[He shrugs again.]
I could lose him and live on. I'm getting damned good at bearing the bitter taste of failing the people I care for. It's the standing by and doing nothing that I couldn't abide. That's the part I'd find unforgivable.
no subject
...I'm not surprised - and we'd be happy to have you. Believe it or not, I offered a similar invitation to Gideon, too.
[ it's a qiming party!!! but, beyond that, he listens to everything thancred has to say, gently pressing his thumbs against his glass, stroking through the condensations for the sake of something to do with his hands, for the feeling of cold as something grounding. ]
I'd like it if you put that energy towards solving it instead of throwing yourself onto the closest stake....but, I get it. [ it's more facetious than anything else - not a real scold or a point against thancred, or anything. ] I think putting that same energy towards finding the truth so neither of you have to die for no reason is ideal. I know it's not always possible, but... well. I won't lecture you.
[ he huffs, and then, has a more familiar lu bixing smile, soft and genuine, sad. ] ...I'm sorry that you've had to lose so much, to have to build up that kind of tolerance, Thancred.
no subject
[But the point still stands. And he's literally through his first beer by now, with the way he's been hitting it, so he doesn't hesitate to get up and get himself another.]
Though mayhap we'll not see any others, now. With Scaramouche out, we're down to twenty. And if Barnes is to be believed, that means we're all eligible to make it through that party's doors.
no subject
Hah - true. It's so inefficient, the way we're made to do this. If we could go out in teams and investigate instead of one at a time, we wouldn't have to waste so much time waiting.
[ unfortunately lbx that's not the point of a murdergame
but, as thancred comes back, he sips from his own drink, finally putting his notes away. thancred gets his full attention. friendship ]
Mmm. I hope so, but... I don't know. It worries me, that what happened this week had little to do with the party itself. Honestly, our time would better be spent just focusing on building up our tolerance instead of trying to cut down numbers - logically, it doesn't make any sense to me why people would just jump to killing each other, but then again, I'm not a murderer. The last two were accidents, but this especially doesn't feel that way.
So... all we can do is wait and see, I guess.
no subject
[This beer has nothing to do with tolerance and everything to do with profound sadness, that's for sure.]
Did you notice in Chandra's notes, his message to the person who was worried he might be targeted for being weak? He took the time to write, "I was right".
He had a working theory, and saw it proved true. I wonder what it was. Mayhap we should ask.
no subject
he makes a little noise, agreeing. ]
Mmm. I tried to get an answer from Scaramouche, but... if he wouldn't give one to me, I doubt he'd give one to almost anyone. Maybe Akira, but he stuck very firmly to what he said at the end.
[ that he wouldn't answer anything. lu bixing's been pretty close with that feisty little cat, and even he couldn't squirrel a full answer out of him. ] In terms of Scaramouche targeting him... I don't know. He's got a little bit of a chip on his shoulder, but I don't know the exact reasons of why he might've chosen to attack Chandra - only that I'm sure it has nothing to do with our situation.
I'm sure we can try and find out through the phone messages, though.
no subject
The impression Uriel and Zagreus gave was something of a hunt. Everyone falls asleep; a few come awake. They discovered each other and had no motive to play the game, up until tragedy struck and forced Uriel's hand. Chandra's impressions seem to be similar, and though I'm only speculating based on Childe and Scaramouche's temperaments, I wouldn't be surprised if they did decide to "play".
[He shakes his head.]
There's no way to know. And barring some means of passing our intentions to them in code, I doubt those who control the lines of communication will allow any true assistance to pass through.
no subject
anyway. he listens to this and nods along. ]
Mmm. [ the noise is thoughtful - he finally takes another sip of his own drink, tilting his head from side to side. ] Maybe so. All we can really do is theorize.
[ as usual. ] About this, about what's to come, now that our numbers will drop to 20. And the future is dark, and full of terrors.
[ that's a little wryly, at least - a quoted joke as he lifts his glass. ] Still. No way to go but forward, huh? And try and unravel these mysteries for as much time as we have left.
no subject
[He'll drink to that, and toast to it as well.]
If we've new, mysterious alcoholic substances turning up in the next few days — count me in for helping you test the effects, all right? I was remiss in offering assistance this past one.
[He takes a long drink of his beer, and then: ]
Though gods help me, if Rynlan spills coffee on me again I may well strangle him myself.