week two, sunday

[moraled]

[Post-execution.

The death of Higekiri isn't surprising, but it is wrong. Higekiri shielded a murderer. For that, he should have been punished, yes.

By death?

Not likely.

Barnham scowls, stalking away from the scene immediately. He'll be off to the side of one of the buildings, leaning against it with his arms crossed. He needs a moment to go take a breather and get over this total and complete disregard for justice and what is Right.

JUSTICE HAS NOT BEEN DONE.]

Comments

[tightly]

[ That young boy had been innocent, but he had died. That's another fact: it had been carried out in bold daylight, the noon sun beating down hot on all of them. As far as Chane's concerned, no matter how galling it is... what's done is done. And there's still the rest of the game to play.

Not that any of that stops Barnham from kicking up dust in his wake as he stomps off, his sneer almost nasty.

... Truth be told, she almost misses the armor. The ridiculous clanking had made him a lot easier to follow when he stormed off in a Tantrum of Justice and Righteousness. However, as this is the first time she's ever done such a thing, that's really more of a hypothesis than an objectively tested fact. Besides, the armor had just been one giant, cumbersome piece of iconography for everything Barnham says and does: loud and attention-getting, unmistakable, a point where dedication to one's sworn duty ends and thickheaded pride begins.

The thing about all of that? None of it is Chane's doing. Therefore, it should not be her concern nor her problem.

And yet...

...

Her hands tense at her sides and then slacken. It's easy to slip through the milling crowd, toward the clustered shadows of buildings where he lingers.

She might punch him.

(She won't, but she'll want to. At least for a moment.) ]

[moraled]

[He's not really expecting anyone to follow him. They all have their own issues to deal with now; this is just one thing they're none of them really prepared to deal with.

...Well.

Looking at Chane, perhaps some of them are more suited to dealing with such things than others.

He arches an eyebrow at her, slowly, and is about as calm as ever in tone.]

Good day, Madam Walken. What is it?

[He's not happy, no. This entire place goes against everything he's ever known to be true and has worked for for himself.

But he's still him, after all--he has to be polite.]

[tightly]

[ He looks ... worse than angry, worse than blustering. Chane had expected to be approaching a volcano mid-eruption. Instead, he's too calm, too even.

It only takes her a moment to rethink her approach.

Notepad, go! ]

What would you have done differently?

[moraled]

[It's hard when your entire life's work is being undermined in a place--hard when he finally felt like he understood what his duty truly was, only to be dumped into what seems like a mockery of it.]

... This is not the way a trial should be. There was never any possibility we were to convict anyone but Sir Tight-Lipped Sword.

[And that's not right.]

To frame yourself, all for the sake of winning a game... there is no honor in that, either, and now another murderer wanders free. But even so, I cannot say what I would have done differently.

Though they are not trained... I am nonetheless impressed by the effort and great work of the majority of those here. [He thinks everyone (aside from like Nui and a few others) tries really hard to figure out the truth. That can't be undermined.] It is simply... aggravating to watch that effort be spit upon in such a way.

[tightly]

[ He sounds a lot more reasonable than the sweating moron she had encountered across the street from the tailor's, or the brash knight-type she had decided on a whim to protect. If Chane is at all caught off guard by this, she doesn't know it. She knows not to underestimate people. Huey had taught her that with inhuman precision.

He uses words like "honour" and "impress", but can't give her question a real answer. With that expression, he freely admits to having no answer.

Consternation stripping mercy from her brow line by force, Chane writes once more. ]

You must understand by now that such a feeling will only grow. The injustice of this arena will only become greater until one of us is left.

[moraled]

[He knows everything she is telling him. That this is going to continue, the next week and the week after and every week thereafter until they either find a way to stop it, or there is only one person left.

But he can't accept it.

There are children here, and people who are not meant for this life. Even those with negative aspects on their posters deserve better than this.]

I am aware, yes. [And then... slowly, because isn't this the real question:] Why are you telling me this?

[He can defend his views all day, but the real question is--why Chane is here in the first place.]

[tightly]

[ Why? ]

...

[ Chane doesn't have a logical answer. She has the hot blooded sentiment she seems to have inherited from Jacuzzi Splot and little idea why she's chosen to expend it here. But an answer? She can't give Barnham one.

Tired of answering for herself, she almost says nothing. Almost. ]

My motives are my own. Leave it at that.

[ translation: ugh acting like a person is the worst ]

[moraled]

[... Chane... it's not a satisfactory answer, but all he can do is shortly nod.

Fine.]

Then I shall give you a similar answer.

[But a little bit better. He's too honest not to.]

I am aware that this game is designed to break down our justice, the way we stand for truth, and what we believe in.

[He shakes his head.]

To give in simply because that is their intent would be deplorable.

[tightly]

[ ... Listening to his words, Chane shakes her own head. ]

No, you do not understand.

[ Not completely. Part of Chane is disappointed to see him regain his guard after so steadily letting it relieve, but a larger part of her know it could be for the best. ]

This game is designed to entertain those who are funding it. Have you ever heard of the Reforma agraria?

[moraled]

... I have not.

[An Inquisitor that hasn't, how troubling (no it's because of the stupid Labyrinthia bullshit).]

[tightly]

[ You know what, standing and writing sucks, so Chane is going to take a seat on this super convenient crate left between the buildings. ]

It was one of the many atrocities committed during la Represión Franquista. The young men involved claim to be motivated by the politics of the time, but they had no qualms about using their wealth and privilege to hunt peasants on horseback. [ When you underline something in HTML, you underline it in real life on the written page. ] Calling it as they did - Reforma agraria - was a contextual joke, because they felt little enough about the act that the perpetrators could laugh about it.

People like that, who may be of the same ilk as the Sheriff's unnamed benefactors, do not care about you or me.

[ HAND CRAMPING UP ARGH ]

[moraled]

[...]

Clearly, they do not.

[He spends a long time reading that note, pondering it quietly, before:]

However, that is all the more reason to stand up to this ridiculous situation. I do not intend to simply lie quietly and allow such things to pass.

[tightly]

[ ... Slowly, sadly, Chane shakes her head. ]

No one is listening to you, Inquisitor.

[moraled]

There is a stark misunderstanding here, Madam Walken.

[He shakes his head.]

I do not need anyone to listen to me.

[He knows...that nobody really thinks he's doing anything but causing a fuss.]

The False Sheriff has no intentions of changing the game. That much is starkly clear. I do not care what it is he thinks of me. And the others here... they are simply doing the best they may.

If I must tread this path alone, I shall.

[tightly]

[ You stupid man, she thinks, and wishes she could say, and is glad she can't say. The hotblooded little thought comes and goes quick enough that she would have regretted expressing it if she had a voice to do so with. He will shout and bluster and stamp his feet, and he will die because of it, and Chane won't be able to keep the whimsical promise she made only because she misses Jacuzzi ( -- and that itself is bizarre; twenty years to detach from humanity and only a few to regain it).

Well and, that's fine.

It's...




- it's fine.

Chane stands back up, trying to look certain and stoic but failing somewhat. In fact, for the first time, she looks as small as she is, like a young woman who wants to say so much but can't.

Any second now, that'll go away and she'll be herself again.

Really, any moment.

... In a few minutes? ]

[moraled]

[... That's certainly an expression on her face. He's quiet for a long moment, head slightly tilted, analyzing that look--and then, softly, he sighs, and nods.

He understand, he thinks. As far as he can, because really--]

I am not so foolish, nor so self-absorbed as to think I am the only one who wishes to end this game.

[It'd be ridiculous; he knows everyone is working hard to do just that. And he is glad that they are doing so subtly, with all of the caution they can muster.

But.]

I cannot sacrifice my duty for the sake of safety. To do so would be a betrayal to my own morals that I could not tolerate. [Even if it gets him killed.] I can ask only for your understanding, Madam Walken.

[tightly]

... [ Understanding.

All the understanding in the world will mean nothing to him when he is dead. And yet, if that's what he wants... She can't find it in herself to gainsay his wishes when he's being so clear. She has no power to convince him of anything, Chane gets that.

So, simply, she nods. Composure is regained in increments, lending colour back to her face. ]

[moraled]

[He can't apologize for being himself--but for some strange, crazy moment, he almost feels the need to apologize for hurting her.

Which is ridiculous. She has no reason to care so much if he gets his fool self killed, right?]

... It is appreciated. I fear I have done a poor job in repaying your concern for me.

[He can admit that much.]

[tightly]

[ He may mean well, he may have the best and noblest of intentions, but that's the last thing she wants to hear from him right now. Her expression indicates as much, twisting into a muted scowl. ]

...

[ Ultimately, Chane leaves him where he is, tucked between the buildings, alone with his own crushing and misguided sense of justice. ]