gocirclegogo | NAKAMAAAAAAAAAAA

Anywhere's fine.

[There's not even a reaction to Zelos being in stalking range - probably because he already knew, but still - or her offering moving to another spot. The reason he wants out of in front of the church is to be out of sight range, but if she wants to sit on the stairs, then fine. Who cares.]

[She doesn't look happy about that. Of course, it's because he's not really having a reaction to anything. But she motions for him to follow to at least the side of the church where it's a little more private.

And when she sits against the side of the building, he might notice how slow and careful she moves compared to usual, or the slight wince that she masks quickly. Her legs stretch out instead of pull to her chest as they normally would.]

...So... how are you feeling? [The...big question?]

[He follows in silence, calm enough about the scenario even if she's mad. The expression doesn't change at all as he watches her until she winces. If she's aware of it, an expression flashes by that could pass as guilt, but it's gone just as fast. Murdered before he's even aware of it.

But that flash means there's at least something there. There's a moment after she sits that's spent glancing back in the direction of Zelos and his cluster of worried parishioners. Then a beat before turning back and sitting directly across from her. A small concession to the spy - full view of both parties.

Erika can also take pride knowing she's not the only battered one. He normally crouches in place, only sitting if wounded. Even more out of place than that is how one knee's pulled to his chest similar to how she does, bad posture and shoulders hunching and leaning on it for balance.

Yeah, she probably got a scar. Victory one. Victory two is she gets him to admit something he even avoided last time.] ...Tired.

[Erika notes it in the back of her mind. Now isn't really the time to brag or gloat. But she only quiets the feeling of pride, not eliminates it. Much more important is hearing that single word.]

'Good.' You admitted it. [Erika hesitates, trying to think how to question the rest.] But...was that really necessary? I didn't realise you were so angry that you would order a slaughter.

[It's hard to say whether he admitted it over the period of never-ending meetings and questioning or over the whole time since taking up that job in general. Maybe both. But positives! The fact he's so tired he'll answer direct questions has not changed.

Wait. That's a bad thing right now.]

You said I was taking too long. He needed an assignment and wouldn't shut up about... [Killing his superiors. Plants. Sunshine and windows and-] Things. Then he offered doing that, and...

[And what? He'd leave it there, but even the blank expression dies a bit more. He maimed her like this, so at least she deserves saying it out loud. Even if it's like physically ripping something open inside.] And I don't have the energy to fight against needless arguments.

[After he finishes, Erika bows her head. She automatically shifts to bring her legs up - to curl her body into something smaller - but another wince means she just casually covers it as crossing them instead.

So...that was all her fault after all, huh? It's not like she has any feelings for the people who died but a slaughter just because she acted like an idiot to a friend?]

...I really am sorry, Willard.

[The wince means he looks away again, head turned opposite Zelos and pointedly so she can't lock eyes anymore. Vaguely knowing they bother her and then saying that kind of answer straight-faced. But she asked. Lying is impossible. Finding a work-around is too much work. So... outright it was.]

Whatever you're sorry for, I think I beat you enough to make up for it. [A beat. Or five. Or twenty. However long it takes to catch up to the countless lines of self-berating after saying it.

She has good hearing. So she could probably make out the muttered 'sorry'. It's just as miserable as she thinks it sounds, and it's obvious about that he's apologizing for.]

[Erika glances up at him. It really is miserable. And she's not sure how to respond to it. He's apologising for hurting her but...]

I taunted you into it, like always. You don't owe me any sort of apology.

['Like always' means 'like the first time.' He doesn't owe her anything because she caused it all in the first place.]

[There's a single laugh at her answer, but how flat it is makes it sound nothing like joy or amusement. Maybe it was in his head. Just... not when verbalized.]

That doesn't excuse it.

It does.

[Well, since they're being honest... Maybe she's a little tired herself to be so straightforward.] I tried to... 'atone' by fixing you but I couldn't. However your heart has broken, I certainly can do nothing for it. That's a proven fact. The least I could do was let you do this to me as an apology.

[Honesty is appreciated. Even if it means she says she let that happen on purpose. Accepted it even, like it was some valid punishment. Given to her by some broken piece of furniture she kicked a few months back.

Wow, that logic is shitty. And good thing it means that how much it hurt to hear that never reaches his face. It also says volumes that Erika will be the second person in this generation of his acquaintances who has heard him curse. Actually curse.]

That apology is shit. Whatever happened to saying sorry like a sane person. ...And I don't care what weird self-justification you've conjured. It doesn't excuse me blacking out and...

[Almost killing a friend. That's fucked up no matter how you spin it.]

I did say sorry. But nothing was reaching you. You've been wrong on nearly every read you've done of me lately. I'm certain you've been wrong on most in general, because you can't care. And if you can't care, what good is an apology of 'sorry I tore apart your heart and caused this'?

[Erika messes with her hair. At least that nervous habit is so old and familiar that it would be hard to mistake for anything else.]

It's not...

[It's not what? The sentence dies while watching her fidget with her hair. Whether it's done on purpose or not, it's a good move on her end. He watches it like some type of absent motion. Logically, it's her being nervous. He's seen it before. Everyone knows it. But he doesn't feel it.

So for that long moment, she can think he's staring off at nothing again. Just the point of nothing happens to be her fidgeting. In reality, he's giving her words the same weight he'd give Dlanor's. Watching her stupid front strands move in small twists and trying to find that thing he's been subconsciously executing lately.

He speaks again out of nowhere after some amount of minutes, but he sounds slightly more awake.] It's that bad, isn't it.

[The move wasn't on purpose but maybe that's for the best, since over-thinking is what got them here in the first place. Or maybe not exactly but it hasn't been of much help. Either way, she notices his staring but the look gives no comfort. It just has the appearance of all the other dead, spaced out looks he has now. If it does anything, it makes her fidget more.

Until he speaks. Erika pauses and glances up. Even the tiniest lift in his voice makes her feel...so much better.]

...Yes, it really is that bad, Willard. Do you understand now?

[At the question, his eyes close. Vaguely remembering back to when he last had this blank state of mind. It's peaceful, in a way. Feelings are unneeded when completing God's will. They're stupid inefficient things anyway.

Shortly after that is when you discover your kill count is actually twelve zeroes off and feelings are a thing you get after mental breakdowns and spirals into crippling depression that end up rewriting your whole personality to try to get over it.

Idly, he wants to thank her for catching it now so that whole period didn't repeat itself. He also knows that is a dumb idea and he is never recounting that to anyone, even Lion, if he can help it.]

...Yeah. I didn't notice it. It's been... [Eighty-seven years-] Not that long ago I used to be... that. Worse, actually. Guess I didn't notice. Old habits and all that.

[He's still not moved from staring blankly at the wall, but the words have life coming back to them. Even if it's unhappiness. Hey. It's something.]

[Unhappiness is still an important emotion. Emotions in general are good; it's why Erika was happy enough to get anger. But she recognises now that only a brief moment or two in that fight held any actual feelings. The rest was a sort of automated blank state.

This tone might be weak but slowly it revives with every word. That's emotion. That's something real.]

I heard a lot of rumours about you just in my brief time. I can't imagine it. Even seeing you like this has been... [Very painful.] ...difficult. And I admit I might not be subtle but you've always been able to see everything about me.

It's simply pathetic when I can understand motives better than you. That isn't how it should be.

[He doesn't answer anything at the first part, simply wincing and looking back down at the ground. The rest of her words idly go by, but he doesn't hear them. Debating something else, and hating himself for it in the process, but that's fine. The question is blank, but not in the way she's been trying to get rid of. Flat and honest and needing a confirmation.]

Do you want to imagine it?

[She doesn't answer immediately. Weighing it in her mind against what she saw of the seventh game. But...she wants to understand him, doesn't she? And he's offering.]

If you're comfortable with it, then yes.

[Double-checking consent! Erika is moving up in the world.]

[She is. He'd praise her if he was normal. Instead there's a short moment to inhale. She could think it's a mental brace it's actually because the statement is long when you almost had your lungs cut in half.]

Two six five six eight zero three four eight seven zero three three five seven two. Two quadrillion, six-hundred fifty-six trillion, eight-hundred and three billion, four-hundred and eighty-seven million, thirty-three thousand, five-hundred seventy two.

[There's nothing else after that, to give her the chance to process the number. It's a long moment. Long enough for her to realize that number is goddamn huge. Then the rest is so quiet that even if Zelos strained every ability he had to hear awesomely, he'd still miss it.]

Two-hundred ninety-three thousand, four-hundred and eighty witches, demons, or condemned sinners. The rest were collateral. And I felt nothing.

[A mind like Erika's is simply built for processing large amounts of information. A Detective is only as good as the quantity of data they can absorb, understand and fit together. So it isn't all that surprising that a number so unimaginable causes the gears to grind and short out.

Erika stares at the wall across from them, expression blank. It comes from trying to process it and her own emotions complicating the usual automated filing of data. 2,656,803,487,333,572. In the picture in her mind, it looks like a number spewed out by a broken calculator.

Of course, she doesn't really feel anything, either. Will said he didn't and Erika doesn't but it's different even then. Erika can't process it. Even if she could, her emotions are too broken to feel a weight like that and she knows it. She is too broken to feel a loss of life that isn't limited to a number of people she could count on one hand.

But someone like Will... someone like him should. And apparently, at some point, he did. That whole personality switch that was so infamous that a piece like Erika heard about it.

She doesn't care about the loss of lives or worlds. The number is kept in Will's file like a sacred bit of data, since she knows it's not one he's revealed often if ever. But...she cares about Will. Will cares about that number. Or did.]

What do you feel now? When you think of that number and those actions you took... do you feel anything now?

[She gets another two short laughs, the first one blank but the second is cracked and could pass for insane had it continued past that. And for the first time in how long, the emotion isn't touched. It's scathing, sardonic, and pure hatred, all laced with that broken laugh and all directed at himself.

She'd probably recognize that tone extremely well after the sixth game.]

I don't need to say it. The Detective, right? Remember that number. The day I feel nothing for it is the day I'm better off dead.

[Perhaps it's surprising that she smiles. Or maybe it isn't. But the serene smile stays.]

Of course I'll remember it. I'll remember those words, too. [Not that she would kill him - could she even? power wise? - but maybe clubbing him over the head with her scythe a few times would do the trick.]

Now then, Willard. You recognise the problem. We could try retraining you and perhaps have a montage wherein you relearn how to read and care for the hearts of people around you. Or we could think of something that isn't completely stupid.

[There's no response for the first part. Just a faint 'nn' that could pass for annoyed at any other time. Right now, it barely counts. Not even thoughts of Erika's percussive maintenance gets out more than those last sentences. There goes that emotion.

But at least she can know calling him out to it was a good thing. It means he's trying accidentally kill off reactions. It also means her last comment earns a short laugh that could almost be genuine.] No montages, thanks.

[...Oh. Question in there, right. Should remember those.] I... have no idea. Have to try stopping it when it starts. I guess.

Then you must remain aware at all times. And you really must break away from all of this. [She waves her hand to indicate the church.] Yes I know your concerns but take care of the loose ends - without breaking your heart more, idiot - and get out.

[She pauses, taking a breath. Ugh, it's getting easier to just be straightforward and say her feelings outright. How horrible.] ...I want to be friends again. The faster you're back to normal, the faster we can be friends again.

...No. [She can get a moment to go 'bitch what' before he cuts her off.] I'll retire from field work. Might get assassination attempts for it, but not like those are new. But I'm still the current head of their military.

[Right now it should click why only those small openly-unaffiliated churches are the ones still bombing things and being huge assholes. Logically, it's a seat of manipulation you don't just toss away willingly. Especially not to some random doof of a human who would use it.

Stupid Willard. But for that comment, Erika's stupider. Getting a blank stare for it, but not the heartless ones. Just the usual expression of 'really, Erika?'] There's news. I had no idea that was something that changed. Unless you're mad I almost killed you, I didn't think we stopped.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject