piers | 02. most love like hunters

[ valhalla always seemed to sit within a perpetual storm. thunder clapped, lightning flashed (though it might have been a product of her own magic); the air had always had a charged, damp, and chill quality. a state of constant turbulence.

right now the air around them feels like what it would be before that. something heavy, imminent. perhaps it's the tone in his voice, like something made of mercury; his words drip to the ground and sit there, dull, lame, impenetrable and cracking the ground, sinking her in with them.

or maybe it's the withdrawn shadows in his eyes that enforces it. she knows that expression, a practitioner of disconnection herself.

focus on one goal and see through to it. "nothing else matters."

she'd been in so much pain then that she'd become numb.

lightning, for once, feels like the softer one here.

she remembers his title, his ranking, his body of force. she should have guessed the purpose of it, but she supposes she had other things to think about then.

she reminds herself of her own losses and her own choices. so many she had to harden her heart to accomplish... ]

No, I don't think so. Once someone is dead, you live with their tombstone on your shoulders, but annihilating the criminal—that stops the tragedy from happening again, and should the truth expose their guilt, then—

Whatever it takes to ensure peace, even if it means destroying the hands that raised you.

[ First was the calm, the sharp ozone, the bright fortune of clarity. The chance to run and hide. Then the shadow, the doubt, the cloud cover. Once the storms came--torrential and lacking the capacity to hide, lie, or cheat, for they simply were in all their destruction--nothing was ever the same.

Shouta listens to her as both a Captain and as someone who has banked his life on taking every death personally, even when the first thing they tell you is not to. On believing firepower was the answer to firepower, an eye for an eye, a heart for a heart. A life for a life, no matter how it was wrought and hammered through the judicial system, a journey of courts and broken levies alike.

Rather simply, he replies: ]

I had a partner.

[ An admittance that bears the brunt of all his conviction, once-upon-a-time dashed to pieces. It's a rare thing to leave his lips, but there is something in her that is easy to recall in himself.

Like he might trust her to understand with that hardened heart of hers what it was like to have nowhere else to go but forward. ]

[ that's what it was. a partner. sentenced to death by truth? a tragedy without a doubt.

lightning quiets, but not for too long. she knows how oppressive silence can be, and the last thing she wants to turn this conversation is into a wake. she had torn away empathy from her heart, but the goddess had it restored.

human suffering—emotion—the heart.

the sergeant tries to look into his eyes and to make sure he still has the resolve to continue on. then, gingerly, she lifts a hand to his shoulder and gently squeezes. a soldier's gesture of comfort. ]

...Don't crumble. You wouldn't have done it have you had any other choice. If it was me, I wouldn't want to fall by any other hand.

Edited 2012-11-29 09:44 (UTC)

[ Just like that, the tension recedes from her touch like a powerful wave. He believes true empathy is derived from a capacity only born from lack of it, from that dark place crowded with feelings of indifference or despair--he recognizes it well in her. What it takes to feel again, not only for themselves, but for those who depend on them too.

The only secret he keeps is that he crumbled a long time ago. But he can and will go on. ]

It was an order. But he said something similar. [ Shouta reaches to take her hand from his shoulder, but it's not a gesture of disregard. Instead, he doesn't let go. ] I've spent my life trying to figure out what that meant. The justice of having somebody by your side.

I...

[ the hold flusters her a little. but she allows it because she knows what a touch can mean to someone. it means a lot to her, in this kind of context.

it must mean something to him too, an executioner, to feel the weight of something other than a gun. ]

People need people, and some connections are inexplicable no matter what the consequence.

[ her fingers curl ever so slightly and pink hair brushes her cheeks, hiding parts of her lowered eyes. ]

"You don't know what you've got until it's gone" is a cliché, but it's true. For the longest time, I kept everyone close to me at a distance. I believe that depending on no one, I could provide better for my family... but I was wrong. You lose too much forcing solitude upon yourself.

[ she grips his hand then, looking piercingly into his eyes. ]

So don't do it. There's no justice in punishing yourself.

Edited 2012-12-02 08:28 (UTC)

[ She has a way with making principle--equal parts conviction and belief--look soft. Not the kind that is brittle and easily corrupted, but the kind that treads the footpath to salvation. People like that were rare.

He holds her gaze, blue on fearless blue. When he does close his eyes, it's to take it in rather than force her out.

It's something of a small victory. ]

"No man is an island", huh? While we're reciting clichés. You learn it the hard way, eventually. [ Like he did. He's not even sure that he believes it, entirely, but he'll be an island if it means safe harbor for those close to him. ] It's the stubborn ones who don't that get in the most trouble. Losing your measure of humanity when you think about it in terms of what's just and what isn't makes you no better than a doll.

[ I believe in you much more than that. Black, white, and porcelain. Don't mess it up. ]

Don't lose your way. [ Finally, he retracts his grasp. ] You're not anybody's soldier. Time isn't going to take that away from you.

[ lightning rarely, if not ever, stops to think about her actions or how her words affect people, so she receives his response with mild confusion, feeling she's done something but can't decipher what.

listening to him, she straightens her expression.

no better than a doll, huh? is that what she had become before...

her fingers jolt as he pulls his hand away, forgetting that she'd been holding them the whole time. she grunts lightly as she regathers composure, soldier-like despite his admonition. ]

I know. I fight for myself and for my loved ones alone, for the purpose of bringing us back together again.

[ she halts, realizing it might be a little of an insensitive answer after his telling her he killed his partner... good going. geez. she swings her head down and back up again. ]

You can fight for that too, even only for their memory.

[ Contrarily, most of what Shouta does, no matter how personally or selfishly motivated, is for the sole purpose of affecting others. To draw out the good, the human, the ugly, the desperate and the fulfilled. Dig his hands in and upturn what he could.

The Captain of the Tokkei takes no prisoners.

So her reactions do right by him and all that he stands for; he has an inkling that he might understand them better than she does. ]

What a lucky bunch. [ The friendly audacity he wears so well kindles and roars back to life when he smiles and shifts to scratch the back of his neck, rub away the tension and warm the dose of chilliness she so faithfully administers. ] You'll do it.

As for me, well. Memories... I've got better things to protect than those. People who I know are real. [ Half a lie, rooted in the terrible truth. Hypocrisy at its finest. ] That was what I decided, when I told myself I'd live again.

Lucky? [ it sounds strong, like a stamp onto a paper, a dull thud of a hand dropping to the table. it began with her, didn't it? —well, no. it didn't. but her, her sister' involvement in it all—that could have been prevented.

yet she doesn't feel that she misses her old ways. the day-in-day-out workaholic, the blinded guardian, the merciless sergeant. a person who didn't trust anyone but herself.

that life had been lonelier than it is now.

though her fists tighten, she lets it go quicker than she does her anger now and looks steadily at shouta. ]

In summary, for the future.

[ she huffs out something amused and ironic and stays quiet, pensive. until she repeats after him. ]

We'll do it.

[ then her eyes swing to the side and look around. honestly, interval dimensions... ]

Whenever we're out of here, anyway—but it's been nice seeing you again, Captain. And...talking.

[ there are some many things she's thankful for her in her heart, yet it's still troublesome say it out loud... ]

Hey. [ Shouta doesn't have the perspective to look at things the way she does, no matter how much he might try, or want to. She'd been reborn, carved out from stronger things. For Shouta, there was only the precious now and the past he'd locked away save for stolen glimpses. Just the seconds and minutes that shaped these exact moments they were living, nothing more and absolutely nothing less than that. ]

They're lucky to have you looking out for them. [ He amends, a challenging half-grin spilling across his whole expression to temper her more ruminant gaze. ] Really lucky.

[ He takes a step back from her. ]

I'll hold you to that, you know. Lightning.

[ time is unpredictable, but events have a way of coming about only at the right time. taking cue from his words of parting, a pillar of light springs up behind lightning, a tornado of gold and a doorway leading into blinding white light. the soldier turns her eyes from the flash of brightness to give shouta one last smile, a smile that matched his with its fire, hope, and determination.

Your friends are lucky too. Be seeing you then, Captain. Next time, give me a better story.

02. most love like hunters

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