Emiya Shirou (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
diesifkilled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
camppetoskey2018-06-24 12:15 am
diesifkilled) wrote in camppetoskey2018-06-24 12:15 am
After...party...?
[SO THAT SURE WAS AN EXECUTION, HUH
Shirou's just been kind of staring off into space, still holding on to Usagi's hand, ever since Kon and Natsume's deaths. Just when it starts to look like he might stay like that all hecking night, he suddenly blinks and looks around.]
I'm going to go get some food.
[And indeed, he disappears off to the lodge and returns a little later with a huge pile of beautifully made sandwiches and other snacks. Did he have them prepared, or did he just make them really fast somehow? Who knows.
Anyway, there are now sandwiches. And the shack might still be on fire. This is fine.]
Shirou's just been kind of staring off into space, still holding on to Usagi's hand, ever since Kon and Natsume's deaths. Just when it starts to look like he might stay like that all hecking night, he suddenly blinks and looks around.]
I'm going to go get some food.
[And indeed, he disappears off to the lodge and returns a little later with a huge pile of beautifully made sandwiches and other snacks. Did he have them prepared, or did he just make them really fast somehow? Who knows.
Anyway, there are now sandwiches. And the shack might still be on fire. This is fine.]
no subject
I don't like that way of thinking.
[He's not completely disagreeing, because the more they have to deal with the dead walking among them, the more they have to deal with how much closer they are to the dead, the more... the more they understand just how bad the coral infection is -- the more it's unacceptable to give up on those who are gone.
At the same time, banking too much on killing people by telling yourself it can be undone later... maybe it's the world he comes from. Maybe he's too inflexible. He doesn't want to put much stock by that.]
no subject
. . . I know. It sounds cruel. But I don't mean that it's okay for anyone to die just because we may be able to cure them.
I mean, there must be something positive we can look to in this situation. A goal to strive towards, to keep us going.
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This is a cruel camp.
[His tone softens a little. It's not that he's trying to rebuff her; he's just worried, even beneath the simmering blood-raw emotions clogging everything. Something he's thought since the first week: the way they decide to approach these trials, to approach death and dealing with each other and this camp, is going to determine their ultimate survival. Not plans. Not information. Not anything they can measure.
People are terrible and fickle beasts that way. But it's also what she said. Something positive. Something to look forward to. For now, though:]
... We have acceptable losses in numbers.
[He... might not be in the mood to pull punches, though.]
no subject
[nothing he says is wrong]
[and yet, Mitsuru can't help but feel like it's a punch to the gut. perhaps. . . it's one she deserves]
Ideally, there is no such thing as acceptable losses.
[but they aren't living the ideal. and they never have been]
At this point, I'm not sure what else there is for us to do.
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And here, there's not a whole lot of it to begin with.]
It's something we have to think about.
[--is what he says, finally. It's not a concession so much as a clarification -- they're not on different pages, no, but perhaps they're reading in different directions.]
If a sacrifice is demanded every week.
[They'll still need to do their best to try and prevent deaths -- murder or other -- but there's no denying that it hasn't been working so far. He thinks there are still other options. Just, frustratingly, they're still elusive.]
no subject
I don't think one is "demanded."
[she points out. sure, the voice in their heads has been encouraging them to kill, but. . . they can ignore that, can't they? they can deal with whatever effects the camp throws at them, weather the discomfort, for the sake of not committing any murders on Thursday nights. right?]
There is nothing in our "rule book" that states a crime must be committing each week.
no subject
[His voice is lowered, soft and almost to inaudible levels.
There is no rule in the camp that demands sacrifices. But the camp isn't the only thing they're dealing with. And they know even less about everything else than they do about this place. Red can only tell them part of the picture, if indeed she knows the truth at all.]
Kirijo... do you remember what I was talking about, last week? [at the meeting, centuries ago now, he'd brought up the clash between the rules and what the voice demanded] The camp isn't the only group demanding things from us.
[He still doesn't know exactly how the stone god and the camp are connected. But there's an uneasiness lying in wait: will they really be able to deal with the effects? Or will the motives just get worse and worse? Will something worse come about as a result, the way it did this time...?
They're not productive thoughts, he knows, he knows, but they pile up and up and up like the corpses around them and gain feet and walk around just the same.]
no subject
[of course he does. she remembers that conversation]
Do you fear. . . more of us will succumb to the voice's temptations, as Talcott did?
no subject
[That's the thing, isn't it?
If they believe that this week's deaths and near-deaths (deaths) occurred the way that they did, and also that Natsume isn't a lying liar that none of them have the energy or presence of mind left to figure out; then merely what the voice does to them might be enough to cause what it wants. What the camp will punish them for.
Is there a way out, anymore? He's starting to think he won't find it. (Part of him wants to beg the world at large to stop him from looking for it or indeed doing anything, because stopping himself isn't something he's capable of. It's a small part.)]
... We don't know enough.
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We don't. You're right.
But we need to keep searching, isn't that correct?
[she knows what it's like to be at the bottom of the barrel. to have lost all hope and reason for continuing on. and although that was a long time ago. . .]
. . . I'm sorry. I wish I could say something more helpful than "we must keep going." That's what I believe, truly and deeply, right down to the depths of my heart. But. . .
Ultimately, the decision to keep fighting rests upon your own shoulders. As does your reason for fighting.
no subject
Or at least the muddy trail he's leaving, pulling himself along in the dirt. It's ungainly and unsightly, but it's all he can do right now.]
We'll keep searching. We'll keep going.
[This was... a critical blow, an unneeded one (but someone had deemed it necessary, and when he has the ability and the presence of mind he'll remember that); but there are still enough of them left to weather it. They haven't lost all of their momentum. They won't lie down and die yet.
He won't lie down and die yet. He can't. He never can.
It's easy to have a reason for fighting when it's the sum total of your existence, every breath you've taken for years and each day that goes by with you still here. Somehow. No matter how much you stumble or how much you fall down or how much you crack it drags you forward as though on strings, the hook sinking deeper and bloodier each time. At some point, he remembers, he'd had hold of the strings. Maybe.]
Yes. Sorry. [for his wavering hopes, for relying too much on her, for all sorts of things] I'll do what I can.
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[regardless of the conversation, regardless of the many true-yet-harsh things Lenka has pointed out during it, she believes he'll do what he can. that determination, though dampened, isn't gone yet]
If there is anything I can do to assist you, Utsugi, don't hesitate to ask. I'll do what I can as well.
no subject
[There's always that tug-of-war.
There are things he genuinely can't carry anymore, but he doesn't know where to put them, doesn't want to add to the burdens of others. None of them can shoulder the enormity of everything inflicted on them here, and the road ahead has always been long and now seems fathomless.
For now, they walk together. He adds, much softer:]
Thank you.