[Fifty-seven deaths. Fifty-seven cycles. One hundred worlds. One hundred cycles.
For a century they shouldered the weight of each other's existence. Who wouldn't desperately seek another solution after that? Yet what broke them was the loss of lives from their mistakes. And Lucretia . . .
His gaze drops back down to their hands. She remembers it all.]
It was the only thing I could do. I could shoulder it.
One of those cycles-- they all died, almost immediately.
[none of them ever went through that same hellish experience, none of them ever held that weight, with everything on their shoulders. everyone's lives, the rest of the universe's safety. their mission, in its entirety.
she knew. she did it before. she could survive it again.]
[He sits before her, parsing everything that she tells him. This intimate knowledge, he realizes, is her origin story. Just as he changed when he was reborn, she realized what she was capable of when everything came down on her shoulders.]
...it is. Before that year-- I chronicled our expedition. I stayed behind, I wrote everything down, I documented the others' experiences without being an active participant, myself.
I couldn't sit back, after that year.
[she gained more confidence, she became decisive, because she had to be. she realized what she could do, what she could contribute, and knew that she wanted to be there with them.
her grip tightens on his hand, just slightly.]
But I'd experienced being alone, and having to do all of it myself. The others never did.
[Some may call it arrogance, what she did. And perhaps it is. Even so, he can't fault her for thinking this way—not when, during his own arrogant youth, he'd elected to complete missions alone, because he'd known his fellow knights' limits as much as he'd known his own ability. Because he'd known with absolute confidence that he could do what they couldn't, and had wanted to protect them by plunging into danger first.
But there's a difference between a lone wolf and a wolf who's lost the pack.
Finally, Sieghart lays his other hand over hers and says, not unkindly:]
His smile widens as he pulls back, straightening, and folds his arms in front of his chest.]
Ah, how enviable. It doesn't change what happened, but not everyone's able to go back and fix the consequences of their actions, you know. You're really something.
[His thought sounds, but it has the muted quality of a recollection wherein someone else spoke: "Humans are an insignificant existence—and you are lower than them. How does a half-baked immortal monster like you still call yourself a human?"
Sieghart doesn't look terribly bothered.]
Hahaha. I thought that, but it's not me who has that problem.
. . . Mortals are tied to destiny. That's why I . . .
[If I accept that I'm just human, it means that I was born to kill them.
He can't believe it. He refuses to believe it. It's better to believe that he was meant to die all those years ago and that his kind saviors put him on borrowed time, because then it would just be the fault of his foolish mistake and not some sick cosmic death sentence.]
Even the gods of fate don't always know how things will turn out until they happen. It doesn't mean that was what you were born for-- or that it was the only thing you were born for.
[a slight pause, here.]
There are-- so many ways for things to go wrong in the world. So many small things that could go just that little bit differently. And there's more to your life than that one point in time, Sieghart. There's your time here, and the good that you've tried to do in this place-- there's anything good you've ever tried to do with your skills and with the time you've been given.
[and she just reaches up, rests a hand against the side of his face once more-- she's not leaning in this time, though. it's just a gesture, her eyes meeting his.]
[The tension holding his arms unravel at her touch, and they unwind to lay his hands on his lap. His eyes meet hers briefly, but they, too, fall despondently.]
They could've done more . . . They could've done better than I ever did.
[There were so many of them. All of them were unbelievably kind. Their only wish was to continue protecting the world after they'd lost their country . . .
If there are truly so many ways for things to go wrong, if a small difference is all it takes to change the course, if I could turn back time, I'd save them even if it meant I'd die.]
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For a century they shouldered the weight of each other's existence. Who wouldn't desperately seek another solution after that? Yet what broke them was the loss of lives from their mistakes. And Lucretia . . .
His gaze drops back down to their hands. She remembers it all.]
. . . You've endured for a long time.
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One of those cycles-- they all died, almost immediately.
[none of them ever went through that same hellish experience, none of them ever held that weight, with everything on their shoulders. everyone's lives, the rest of the universe's safety. their mission, in its entirety.
she knew. she did it before. she could survive it again.]
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Was that how you knew you could do it alone?
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I couldn't sit back, after that year.
[she gained more confidence, she became decisive, because she had to be. she realized what she could do, what she could contribute, and knew that she wanted to be there with them.
her grip tightens on his hand, just slightly.]
But I'd experienced being alone, and having to do all of it myself. The others never did.
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But there's a difference between a lone wolf and a wolf who's lost the pack.
Finally, Sieghart lays his other hand over hers and says, not unkindly:]
Lucretia. That's enough.
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[she exhales a brief huff of what's almost a laugh, at that. almost.
the gesture is appreciated, though, and she just lets her hand fit comfortably between both of his.]
But I thought you should know. We've had-- a lot of missed time.
[she'd prefer not to end this with him thinking she's someone who wouldn't do anything she's done.]
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When he lifts his head, it's with a gentle smile.]
Thanks for sharing. But Lucretia . . . I don't think of you as an unkind person.
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...and I couldn't think that of you, either.
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His smile widens as he pulls back, straightening, and folds his arms in front of his chest.]
Ah, how enviable. It doesn't change what happened, but not everyone's able to go back and fix the consequences of their actions, you know. You're really something.
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[she lets him pull back, but she's watching him with a slight furrow in her brow.]
I do appreciate that, but-- of course I see you as a person.
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Of course. Even though I'm a Highlander, I'm still human.
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But you don't think of yourself as one.
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Sieghart doesn't look terribly bothered.]
Hahaha. I thought that, but it's not me who has that problem.
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[I heard it just a minute ago, Sieghart... is her quiet thought at that.]
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I still think of myself as a human. I just also happen to think otherwise, is all.
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But-- why would you?
[she could make a guess or two, but... she'd prefer to let him answer.]
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...I thought that might be the case, but-- Sieghart, you aren't.
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I was meant to die centuries ago. I stole their future when they gave me one by saving my life . . . What else can I be?
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[She's correct, but he can't accept that it's so black and white.
That would mean that their deaths were—]
I don't believe in legends or destiny.
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I've seen the kind of person you can be, and you've given me your regrets-- I can't agree with you. I'm not going to. You aren't monstrous.
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[If I accept that I'm just human, it means that I was born to kill them.
He can't believe it. He refuses to believe it. It's better to believe that he was meant to die all those years ago and that his kind saviors put him on borrowed time, because then it would just be the fault of his foolish mistake and not some sick cosmic death sentence.]
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[a slight pause, here.]
There are-- so many ways for things to go wrong in the world. So many small things that could go just that little bit differently. And there's more to your life than that one point in time, Sieghart. There's your time here, and the good that you've tried to do in this place-- there's anything good you've ever tried to do with your skills and with the time you've been given.
[and she just reaches up, rests a hand against the side of his face once more-- she's not leaning in this time, though. it's just a gesture, her eyes meeting his.]
That doesn't have to define you.
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They could've done more . . . They could've done better than I ever did.
[There were so many of them. All of them were unbelievably kind. Their only wish was to continue protecting the world after they'd lost their country . . .
If there are truly so many ways for things to go wrong, if a small difference is all it takes to change the course, if I could turn back time, I'd save them even if it meant I'd die.]
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