camppetoskey | After...party...?

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.]

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[ Cielo does not eat. That is the first sign something is wrong. He just sorta... ends up by the lakeside, staring at the water, sitting with his legs crossed.

He's not happy, obviously. He doesn't seem okay at all. But you can talk to him! He'll be here until curfew. ]

[Lenka turns up next to him at some point, though he doesn't say anything; he's just washing his hands in the lakewater without expression or comment, watching the dirt and grime and blood and wood splinters drift along the water. Someone probably finally yelled at him for getting blood all over everything including the snacks and Red's phone.

Or he remembered that he was supposed to wash his hands before eating. It's a bit late, but one out of two isn't bad.

Afterward, he lets his hands drip into the water and stays in a crouch, staring out over the lake. They can probably stay like this for a while. There aren't a lot of words for what just happened, are there?]

[ There really aren't, and Cielo only notices the blood about halfway through Lenka washing his hands. Finally, he picks his head up and asks: ]

... You hurt. What... what happened?

[ Yeah, he... checked out real bad. ]

... I wanted to hit something. That's all.

[Luckily, Cielo didn't miss much, besides half of them trying or at least thinking about smashing themselves up against the execution's will. Again. They're really not very good at learning from past mistakes; or maybe they haven't learned anything at all. And none of those are something Lenka can hit -- the only mistakes made are the ones done with his own hands and those he wants to pull forward.

It's a wonder there's anyone out or around this evening at all, though the cabins would probably be hard to deal with, too. The real question is how many of them are checked in at this point.]

... I know de feelin'.

[ He does too. ]

I jus' wanna get into de sky and not come down, but I can't even do dat.

You can't fly high enough. Because they took that away.

[Flight risk.

He closes his eyes briefly, thinking of that one Tuesday, when they were at the lees of the forest and when they probably should have turned back sooner than they did. There are many close calls like that. Some of them were bound to become not just close calls, eventually. All of what was sown, coming back to haunt them, again and again and again. There's nowhere in this camp that isn't as poisonous as the hemlock they were dealing with.

Forcefully, carefully, he loosens his hands from the fists they've curled back into.]

They want to take away everything. Until we stop fighting and decide to die for them, the way they want.

[Maybe it would be easier, if they could do that. If he could do that. He can't, even now, and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not anymore.]

... Probably.

[ He sighs, before picking a stick up and drawing in the dirt with it. ]

I... dunno how to help anybody like dis. What do we do? Jus'... jus' deal wid it?

[...]

[He doesn't know quite how to answer.

He could probably answer a few things about the minutiae of this trial, too many things now that they've all clustered together to become what it turned into, the minutes and seconds of the execution and exactly what Red had done or didn't do. Exactly what they'd all done and didn't do, today. Tomorrow, the day after, the next day: he knows they're there, but he doesn't have the leisure to figure out how to get to them.

The easy answer is that you don't get back up after -- you crawl. You face the ground and get dirt under your fingernails and you pull yourself hand over hand and inch by inch like a snake, or an earthworm. Survival is never pretty, but this is the ugliest it's been in a while.]

We do what we can to keep each other alive. [that's what he finally has] ... You should have a sandwich.

[ There's a long pause, and finally he just says: ]

... Bread confuses me.

[ A beat. ]

Sure, why de heck not.

[Lenka stares back at him for a long moment after that, trying to parse things beyond probably a sandwich can be applied to this problem, but that seems to be the sum total of the solution here. For the moment, anyway -- weekends here are when he thinks in straight lines, so all he does at first is nod and go back towards the campfire.

At least he can now retrieve sandwiches without contaminating the entire supply. Eventually he comes back with a dish of them, since you apparently cannot go to this campfire for just one sandwich at a time. Cielo will likely be eating most of them, though. He had cake earlier for no good reason, and he's spent most of the night staring at food.]

Here. [...] Is bread really confusing...

[That's half to himself but also half like, do you need help with sandwiches??]

[ He pauses for a long moment, thinking about it. "Is bread really confusing..."

It's a good question, but how to answer it... ]

... Ja, bro. It's like... not powdery ration stuff. But soft? I dunno, it's weird to me. All'a dis stuff is weird to me except de meat.

[ Awkward. Laugh... just, taking a sandwich now. ]

It's good, though. Shirou makes de good stuff.

... It's okay. This is better bread than I'm used to, too.

[Like, I have no idea what bioengineered bread tastes or is textured like but there's probably something vaguely off about it. Also, just the general life of military cafeteria food is -- technically it's way better than what he started out with -- well, it's something else. He's probably never had anything as luxurious as camp food, especially the handmade stuff. He hasn't gotten over that yet.

Now he's just contemplating the sandwiches, because having a not-too-philosophical debate over all of it has made him rethink not having one. Hmm.]

But I still didn't know you could do this with sandwiches. [it's a thoughtful, absent comment as he finally gives in to the sandwiches] Shirou said his magic is swords... but maybe not.

[Maybe his actual element is FOOD FOOD.]

[ Thank god we invited Food Food. ]

... I didn't even know what one was before all'a dis.

[ Thinking, as he stuffs one in his face. He at least chews it! And has enough manners to wait before speaking again. ]

Maybe he is jus' really special in de kitchen. I dunno, we should ask him if, like, food magic is a thing?

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