It's... nice when there isn't a plague eating everyone alive in sight.
[ wry smile. ]
The bulls on the steppe, the brides, the children... even the hokey city folk are fine when they're not spitting in my face.
The herbs... they act up in the autumn even still. Steal the life from you when they grow, give life back to you when you pluck and process them just right...
[ they don't expect that, but it isn't unwelcome. the hand curls over his, and io turns their palm over, albeit hesitant, their fingers drawing over knuckles. ]
It's like that. Visits me, in my dreams... taunts me... it rolls the die and it takes and then it says "run, butcher, run."
[ softer, gazing downwards. who has ever cared for the young? who? ]
No, what happened to my Murky... that... that was real... real as can be.
[ a shake of the head, slowly at first. ]
It took her, took each of my wards, tried to kill them after all I'd done to keep them alive. Didn't like that I was ahead of the game, so... it cheated. Fate doesn't matter when the thing you fight will rig the die in their favor each and every time.
There's not much that any of us can do. We don't-- we can't stop this. We don't know how, or even what's causing it, we're just... waiting 'til it happens and helping them out by killing them, because it's all we've got.
[a little frustrated, there.]
It's the only thing we can do, is save the ones of us we can. See if any of us are left at the end.
Mmm. You're right. It's what I know, but sometimes it pays to hear it from someone trusted...
[ a firm nod. ]
Today we were some kind of lucky.
[ they could have all been dead, each one and they still feel the dead weight of the bodies in their arms. they look ahead for a short while before turning to find his eyes again, briefly ]
Another awful week for the books... [ a huff ] She's very extraordinary, your Yuri.
[ a quiet guess considering the phrasing. the circumstances from today feel almost too on the nose, a phoenix from the ashes. they just keep holding that hand, because what else are they going to do? nothing. there's not much else they want to do for the moment. ]
[ the other hand shifts to just. cover his now. trapped. holding gentle, holding steady. their eyes glance at the remnants of gregor's own trials from this week. everything's fucked. thanks. ]
[ they sure do, and by the time it's all over, they're shaking their head slowly because no. no, he's right she deserves this chance. she doesn't deserve anything like that, to be killed so suddenly, to be used so brutally. ]
... Oh... wh... Gregor...
[ a shake of the head, trying to extricate the anguished sounds from gregor from his mind. it's piercing, it's unfair (it's always unfair.) they shift, they place a hand then softly on his shoulder, the other still holding his fingers tightly, because what do you say to that? you let the ash from the cigarette burn and you let the smoke rise. you shake quietly in rage. undeserved. ]
[his turn. his human hand is a little shaky in io's hold, and he doesn't really have it in him to pull away from their hand on his shoulder; luckily, having only one normal hand has meant he's pretty used to exhaling smoke without dropping the cigarette from his mouth, a slow cloud making its way upward after another inhale.]
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[well.]
Your work.
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[ wry smile. ]
The bulls on the steppe, the brides, the children... even the hokey city folk are fine when they're not spitting in my face.
The herbs... they act up in the autumn even still. Steal the life from you when they grow, give life back to you when you pluck and process them just right...
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[hey io??
damn for once the city has a challenger for worst place to come from]
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[ they rub their neck slowly, a dull crack coming from it. ]
A Plague that is as alive as— [ and unfortunately, there's one last quick show for the road, a thin tear that breaks through with a shred of memory.
they just. sit there, knuckles white. ]
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it steals the breath from him, eyes stinging a bit in the aftermath of it. so small, but so ill. too young for it, but-
since when has the world ever cared about someone being too young? it didn't for him. shoma. too many.
gregor says nothing. he just reaches over and lets his human hand curl over one of io's.]
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It's like that. Visits me, in my dreams... taunts me... it rolls the die and it takes and then it says "run, butcher, run."
[ softer, gazing downwards. who has ever cared for the young? who? ]
So I do what I can. I run.
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[or was that real?]
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[ a shake of the head, slowly at first. ]
It took her, took each of my wards, tried to kill them after all I'd done to keep them alive. Didn't like that I was ahead of the game, so... it cheated. Fate doesn't matter when the thing you fight will rig the die in their favor each and every time.
[ slowly, they let loose a breath. ]
Sorry.
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[they don't need to apologize for this. not for any of it.]
...sounds like this plague was really putting you through hell. And then ending up here, where we just keep dying--
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[ that is the question. for what? where we just keep dying. ]
There are people who truly love this kind of misery. They live for plays like this.
[ softer ] We deserve to be free of it.
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[a little frustrated, there.]
It's the only thing we can do, is save the ones of us we can. See if any of us are left at the end.
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[ a firm nod. ]
Today we were some kind of lucky.
[ they could have all been dead, each one and they still feel the dead weight of the bodies in their arms. they look ahead for a short while before turning to find his eyes again, briefly ]
Another awful week for the books... [ a huff ] She's very extraordinary, your Yuri.
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[after a second of silence, a pause-]
She-- deserved to have this chance. To get to live again.
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[ a quiet guess considering the phrasing. the circumstances from today feel almost too on the nose, a phoenix from the ashes. they just keep holding that hand, because what else are they going to do? nothing. there's not much else they want to do for the moment. ]
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[he couldn't stop it. he couldn't save her.
...just like today.
his grip on their hand is a little tighter.]
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Salt in the wound.
[ the other hand shifts to just. cover his now. trapped. holding gentle, holding steady. their eyes glance at the remnants of gregor's own trials from this week. everything's fucked. thanks. ]
You don't need to answer this, but... how...?
[ they will ask, they will offer. ]
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and just as the void briefly provided before, he doesn't need to say anything.
they get to see it, instead. (to 1:53:15)]
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... Oh... wh... Gregor...
[ a shake of the head, trying to extricate the anguished sounds from gregor from his mind. it's piercing, it's unfair (it's always unfair.) they shift, they place a hand then softly on his shoulder, the other still holding his fingers tightly, because what do you say to that? you let the ash from the cigarette burn and you let the smoke rise. you shake quietly in rage. undeserved. ]
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[his turn. his human hand is a little shaky in io's hold, and he doesn't really have it in him to pull away from their hand on his shoulder; luckily, having only one normal hand has meant he's pretty used to exhaling smoke without dropping the cigarette from his mouth, a slow cloud making its way upward after another inhale.]
That's why--
She has to make it out.
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Whatever it takes.
I will do whatever it takes. For her. And for you too. So don't be an idiot... alright?
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I will manage fine, Gregor, this is not my first time.
[ glancing upwards, a tired look. ]
I will do as much here as I would have done for anyone back home.
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[io.]
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Sleep will find me... I'm sure.
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(no subject)