[ '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
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.