[ he says this with a solidity, with no doubt or wavering in his voice. he won't lie. He cleaned Childe's clock for doing less and saying more to Furina--knocking Wolfwood out for having almost broken her neck? Sure, there's a huge part of him that wants to lash out.
But he's better than that.
He isn't an irrational criminal who does indiscriminate things. He isn't a wild childe, living in the watery walls of a prison, fighting for his life. He's a free man now, in a world far from his own. Who can make choices for himself, and the choice he's making today... ]
But what would it change? I'd get my hands full of your blood for... what. It wouldn't make any of us feel safer. Or even better, about the situation. Sure, I could stand here with my ears up thinking I defended Furina's honor, but she doesn't need that from me.
I am her partner--not her keeper. She is a powerful woman on her own and has walked on her own two feet and strength for years beyond the ones I've lived. Her forgiving you for what you did is all I need to hear to decide you don't deserve to have your jaw broken for something that's already done and passed.
You came to apologise.
That's a lot more than some men would do, I think. I can count on both hands the men I've met through the years who'd coldly justify what they'd done and turn their back towards those they hate.
The compassion you show by showing your face here and offering this is a pound of flesh enough.
[ oh thank fuck, Wriothesley sees the logic in his reasoning and
refuses to punch him in the face. all of the tension winds right back into Wolfwood's shoulders as the Damp France pair both explain that yes, he is a problem, but no, they don't feel violence would solve anything and he's left where he started
the weight is still on his back and now everything's hunky-dory but Furina's still got the specter of something fearful in her odd little eyes and Wolfwood tries very, very hard not to grind his teeth and call them names, no matter how much better it would make him feel. ]
Frankly, if you wanted to break my jaw it'd be fine. I can get up from anything short of blowing my brains out or tearing out my throat.
[ he rubs his face and for a moment, he just... lets the exhaustion hit him and lets himself be the barely-outside-of-twenty-something that he is in the face of this Goddess and her Fully Established Adult Man friend. he spends so much of his day pretending to be a sixty year old man inside of a twenty year old man's body that when it catches up to him he just feels so. very tired. ]
Look. You're talkin' a gorgeous game about bygones being bygones and apologies and intentions being what matters but I don't come from a place where that's remotely true, so forgive me if I find it hard to believe--especially since you're both still lookin' at me the way you are.
[ unease for her. predatory attentiveness for him. it made for a nice matching set of emotions. ]
Your mouth is saying 'water under the bridge' and your expressions are saying you're locking the door when I leave. Where I come from, people either deal with you flat and even is even, or they hang you at some point with what you 'owe' them, and I am so. So tired of 'owing' people things.
If you can't stand the sight of me and need me to avoid you 'til the world burns down, just. Say it. If you wanna break my neck, do it. Don't just leave me with 'everything's fine' and expect me to spend the rest of my life waitin' for the catch to find me. It'll kill Vash if you can't be friendly with him because of me, and Zulius is already spinning enough plates tryin' to keep all of the lunatics that work for him pretending like they're well-adjusted.
This ain't compassion. This is settling score so the slate is clean going into tomorrow.
[ 'i am her partner' he says and she feels something warm bloom from the center of her chest, a warm that spreads through her limbs chasing off the cold fear had placed there. it helps, easing some of the tension sitting across her shoulders. ]
I won't raise my hand to you, Wolfwood. Enough blood has already been spilled and I do not wish to see you hurt anymore than you already have been. But I do not want you to go on waiting for an axe to finally drop upon your neck.
[ it's no way to live. ]
I am the God of Justice and it is no you who must pay for all that happened.
[ he sees it he recognises it, the cold and unwavering distrust, he'd seen it in his fellow prisoners in Meropide for years. He'd felt it, in how he was always cautious around those who thought they could take their own pound of flesh off of him, who felt the need to show their righteousness above others. The wardens who would punish prisoners for toe-ing lines, or just plain because they felt the need to make extra sure that the prisoners knew their place.
But Wriothesley was a man who stood to oppose all of that. He'd hated how Meropide was a lawless place that fed and bred violence and a hierarchy of violence. Where power was in strength, where you tore scars in your opponent's skin to show how going against them was how you should never be wronged.
He remembers the old warden taking all of his credits to 'Teach him a Lesson', and how it'd given him a chance to change how his little world worked. And while he would always be a man who would let his fists talk if he needed to--he was a warden who preferred to do things through action and speech before he resorted to that kind of violence anymore.
He moves to stand, that look on his face having not changed since Wolfwood arrived. And when Furina speaks of being the God of Justice, he crosses the room towards Wolfwood. Every step he takes accentuated with a clinking of chains and the heavy sound of metal as those shoes of his hit the floor solidly with each footfall. ]
You've got it mixed up entirely in your head, Mr. Wolfwood. You see, where I come from. If the Duke wants somebody dead. He needs no sort of Justification.
[ He reaches forward, and he grabs Wolfwood by the front of his jacket. His other hand curling up at his side. ]
[ And he then yanks the others' coat, pulling the other in towards himself
As that other hand moves to wrap around Wolfwood's middle, to pull him into a hug. ]
Where I come from. In my Meropide.
Just as people are allowed to give into the darkness of their own hearts and make regrettable, violent choices to settle the scores they have with others.
I believe they should also be free to seek out redemption and forgiveness, as well as new beginnings.
We've all made mistakes. We are just humans, good people with things that we cherish and fear losing. But what's most important.
Is being able to retain freedom from things such as fear and violence--to be able to choose a different path to reflect on the things we've done wrong.
That's the choice I'm making here. I'm not telling you everything's fine.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ he says this with a solidity, with no doubt or wavering in his voice. he won't lie. He cleaned Childe's clock for doing less and saying more to Furina--knocking Wolfwood out for having almost broken her neck? Sure, there's a huge part of him that wants to lash out.
But he's better than that.
He isn't an irrational criminal who does indiscriminate things. He isn't a wild childe, living in the watery walls of a prison, fighting for his life. He's a free man now, in a world far from his own. Who can make choices for himself, and the choice he's making today... ]
But what would it change? I'd get my hands full of your blood for... what. It wouldn't make any of us feel safer. Or even better, about the situation. Sure, I could stand here with my ears up thinking I defended Furina's honor, but she doesn't need that from me.
I am her partner--not her keeper. She is a powerful woman on her own and has walked on her own two feet and strength for years beyond the ones I've lived. Her forgiving you for what you did is all I need to hear to decide you don't deserve to have your jaw broken for something that's already done and passed.
You came to apologise.
That's a lot more than some men would do, I think.
I can count on both hands the men I've met through the years who'd coldly justify what they'd done and turn their back towards those they hate.
The compassion you show by showing your face here and offering this is a pound of flesh enough.
no subject
refuses to punch him in the face. all of the tension winds right back into Wolfwood's shoulders as the Damp France pair both explain that yes, he is a problem, but no, they don't feel violence would solve anything and he's left where he started
the weight is still on his back and now everything's hunky-dory but Furina's still got the specter of something fearful in her odd little eyes and Wolfwood tries very, very hard not to grind his teeth and call them names, no matter how much better it would make him feel. ]
Frankly, if you wanted to break my jaw it'd be fine. I can get up from anything short of blowing my brains out or tearing out my throat.
[ he rubs his face and for a moment, he just... lets the exhaustion hit him and lets himself be the barely-outside-of-twenty-something that he is in the face of this Goddess and her Fully Established Adult Man friend. he spends so much of his day pretending to be a sixty year old man inside of a twenty year old man's body that when it catches up to him he just feels so. very tired. ]
Look. You're talkin' a gorgeous game about bygones being bygones and apologies and intentions being what matters but I don't come from a place where that's remotely true, so forgive me if I find it hard to believe--especially since you're both still lookin' at me the way you are.
[ unease for her. predatory attentiveness for him. it made for a nice matching set of emotions. ]
Your mouth is saying 'water under the bridge' and your expressions are saying you're locking the door when I leave. Where I come from, people either deal with you flat and even is even, or they hang you at some point with what you 'owe' them, and I am so. So tired of 'owing' people things.
If you can't stand the sight of me and need me to avoid you 'til the world burns down, just. Say it. If you wanna break my neck, do it. Don't just leave me with 'everything's fine' and expect me to spend the rest of my life waitin' for the catch to find me. It'll kill Vash if you can't be friendly with him because of me, and Zulius is already spinning enough plates tryin' to keep all of the lunatics that work for him pretending like they're well-adjusted.
This ain't compassion. This is settling score so the slate is clean going into tomorrow.
no subject
I won't raise my hand to you, Wolfwood. Enough blood has already been spilled and I do not wish to see you hurt anymore than you already have been. But I do not want you to go on waiting for an axe to finally drop upon your neck.
[ it's no way to live. ]
I am the God of Justice and it is no you who must pay for all that happened.
1/2
he recognises it, the cold and unwavering distrust, he'd seen it in his fellow prisoners in Meropide for years. He'd felt it, in how he was always cautious around those who thought they could take their own pound of flesh off of him, who felt the need to show their righteousness above others. The wardens who would punish prisoners for toe-ing lines, or just plain because they felt the need to make extra sure that the prisoners knew their place.
But Wriothesley was a man who stood to oppose all of that. He'd hated how Meropide was a lawless place that fed and bred violence and a hierarchy of violence. Where power was in strength, where you tore scars in your opponent's skin to show how going against them was how you should never be wronged.
He remembers the old warden taking all of his credits to 'Teach him a Lesson', and how it'd given him a chance to change how his little world worked.
And while he would always be a man who would let his fists talk if he needed to--he was a warden who preferred to do things through action and speech before he resorted to that kind of violence anymore.
He moves to stand, that look on his face having not changed since Wolfwood arrived. And when Furina speaks of being the God of Justice, he crosses the room towards Wolfwood. Every step he takes accentuated with a clinking of chains and the heavy sound of metal as those shoes of his hit the floor solidly with each footfall. ]
You've got it mixed up entirely in your head, Mr. Wolfwood.
You see, where I come from.
If the Duke wants somebody dead. He needs no sort of Justification.
[ He reaches forward, and he grabs Wolfwood by the front of his jacket. His other hand curling up at his side. ]
2/2
As that other hand moves to wrap around Wolfwood's middle, to pull him into a hug. ]
Where I come from.
In my Meropide.
Just as people are allowed to give into the darkness of their own hearts and make regrettable, violent choices to settle the scores they have with others.
I believe they should also be free to seek out redemption and forgiveness, as well as new beginnings.
We've all made mistakes. We are just humans, good people with things that we cherish and fear losing. But what's most important.
Is being able to retain freedom from things such as fear and violence--to be able to choose a different path to reflect on the things we've done wrong.
That's the choice I'm making here.
I'm not telling you everything's fine.
I'm telling you I'm willing to forgive you.