Kirei "problems" Kotomine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
god_damned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-09-07 04:40 pm
god_damned) wrote in towerofanimus2013-09-07 04:40 pm
To see a world in a grain of sand
Characters: Kirei Kotomine and OPEN
Setting: The Dormitories (1-04). Floor forty-eight (the graveyard). Aaaand wildcard meanderings which you can happily place at your leisure!
Format: Brackets.
Summary: Kirei wakes in the Tower and explores his new surroundings.
Warnings: General disclaimer that Kirei is an awful person, discussions of suicide in his thread with Claudia, and specifics will be added as necessary.
Dormitories
[ He reads the letter, and he feels nothing.
What should he feel? Sorrow? Perhaps another person would label his utter lack of response as a state of shock or disbelief, as if he were denying the gravity of the message. However, while Kirei is reserved about taking those words as full truth, it is not a fool's hope which motivates him to such skepticism. What was lost in that world that he could mourn? Very little, in the end.
However, there is the War he left behind – and with it, he left behind the Grail, and his one chance to have his questions answered.
Perhaps it isn't nothing after all, but the feeling in his chest is not that of an honest man. But does it matter? Now, there is no remaining trace of his life save for a trunk of impersonal, unimportant things.
Regardless, he opens it, changes into his vestments, and exits into the hall. ]
Floor Forty-Eight
[ It is only natural that he finds himself in a place like this.
The graveyard stretches before him: like an echo of the world which he has been told is gone. He steps toward and kneels before a stone, trying to read its worn lettering with no success. It is difficult for him to determine why he makes the effort; perhaps he expects to see a name he recognizes.
Perhaps he expects to see his own. ]
Wandering
[ It is similar to the day he woke with the Command Spells, in a way, when he finds himself in this place. He was thrust into a world of unknown to him, of magi and their Holy Grail War. At the beginning, he had not understood his involvement in such a battle. Then, he spoke to Archer...
Perhaps this Tower is the same: he does not understand it now, but he can explore. He can discover more of it, and of himself.
But will what he finds favor him, or destroy him? ]
Setting: The Dormitories (1-04). Floor forty-eight (the graveyard). Aaaand wildcard meanderings which you can happily place at your leisure!
Format: Brackets.
Summary: Kirei wakes in the Tower and explores his new surroundings.
Warnings: General disclaimer that Kirei is an awful person, discussions of suicide in his thread with Claudia, and specifics will be added as necessary.
Dormitories
[ He reads the letter, and he feels nothing.
What should he feel? Sorrow? Perhaps another person would label his utter lack of response as a state of shock or disbelief, as if he were denying the gravity of the message. However, while Kirei is reserved about taking those words as full truth, it is not a fool's hope which motivates him to such skepticism. What was lost in that world that he could mourn? Very little, in the end.
However, there is the War he left behind – and with it, he left behind the Grail, and his one chance to have his questions answered.
Perhaps it isn't nothing after all, but the feeling in his chest is not that of an honest man. But does it matter? Now, there is no remaining trace of his life save for a trunk of impersonal, unimportant things.
Regardless, he opens it, changes into his vestments, and exits into the hall. ]
Floor Forty-Eight
[ It is only natural that he finds himself in a place like this.
The graveyard stretches before him: like an echo of the world which he has been told is gone. He steps toward and kneels before a stone, trying to read its worn lettering with no success. It is difficult for him to determine why he makes the effort; perhaps he expects to see a name he recognizes.
Perhaps he expects to see his own. ]
Wandering
[ It is similar to the day he woke with the Command Spells, in a way, when he finds himself in this place. He was thrust into a world of unknown to him, of magi and their Holy Grail War. At the beginning, he had not understood his involvement in such a battle. Then, he spoke to Archer...
Perhaps this Tower is the same: he does not understand it now, but he can explore. He can discover more of it, and of himself.
But will what he finds favor him, or destroy him? ]
no subject
It might be. [After everything, she can't dismiss the possibility in good conscience.] But I don't think it is. I've met good people here, and children. There are other things, too— It's horrible, but I don't think it's hell.
[She swallows, then, and looks him over. Through the fabric of her dress, the fingertips of her bandaged hand touch the cross hanging underneath. It's his cross, and that makes her eye flick to the one hanging around his neck. For a second, she feels so intensely uncomfortable it's hard to breathe, but—she needs to know if his memories matches up with hers, or someone else's, or nobody's at all.]
[She tries to study his hands from where she stands.]
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But I've died?
[ The words only barely edge from a statement to a question. He has no memory of death, and perhaps that is not surprising, but how else would he be standing here before her? The afterlife promises a healthy body, which would explain the strength in her limbs.
But then there's the despair in her voice.
He waits a moment longer before he takes a step towards her. ]
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[She picks up on that slight uncertainty in his tone, but she doesn't know what to make of it. Perhaps he's just confused about the situation. She might have been, if she had woken up here after death, and especially if she had come face-to-face with someone who should have been alive still.]
[She remains where she is as he steps toward her, neither backing away nor following suit. Part of her wants to go to him, to reach out for him, and yet—]
I...
[She remembers the voices of the shadows, and, suddenly, tumbling from her mouth come the words,] Do you hate me?
[She purses her lips together to keep them from trembling, but her eye still stings.]
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[ But the fact that she questions his reply make him hesitate. How has she not drawn the same conclusion that he has? If he cannot recall dying himself, would she likewise not remember her own demis? She had been on her deathbed for quite some time; unless her entire memory has been misplaced... there is still a level to this encounter which does not seem possible, but she moves and speaks with a voice that is so familiar.
His approach stalls entirely when she speaks again, and he pauses. Claudia Hortensia, the saint, who gave her life in effort to spare Kirei Kotomine's, the sinner, expects herself to be hated by the man who was her husband? ]
Why would you ask me that?
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[She laughs out another broken sound.]
Because— I—
[Her voice trembles as she forces out each syllable, the effort needed to keep her words intelligible apparent. But, even in spite of that effort—she starts to cry, too weak to so much as face him now. She bows her head, and her voice breaks entirely when she starts again, her answer a plea and a confession.]
I'm not that woman. I'm not your wife. I don't deserve to be... I never deserved to be— I wasn't—strong enough to do what she did...
[It's not a very coherent explanation, but it's all she can manage, her voice hitching and sobbing as she speaks.]
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Claudia Hortensia had been doomed from the day he met her, her days numbered and her body in constant pain, but she never showed the despair that he witnesses now. She breaks down, her voice losing strength and the sound of her words stammering with her sobs.
Has this place made her this way, or is it something else?
I wasn't strong enough to do what she did.
Any husband seeing his wife in such a state should feel a similar sorrow. He should feel the urge to take her into his arms and soothe her, to promise her reassurance and devotion. He could blame suspicion and confusion for the reason that he does not rush to embrace her, but the truth is something darker.
Kirei approaches her, his hand -- the one bearing his Command Spells -- extending out towards her, and he mirrors the question that she asked him. ]
Are you real?
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[The strength of her voice seems to come and go in waves. She starts her explanation with enough force that she trips over her own words, but then it peters out again, leaving her to stutter and mumble the rest.]
[She looks at his hand when he holds it toward her, and rather than reaching out to take it, she instead moves to unfasten the bandage wrapping hers. It's an impulsive action, her fingers trembling and clumsy in their haste. There isn't a wound on the back of her palm, of course, the Command Spells standing out brightly against her pale skin—just two, with the footprint of one burned away. She reaches for him.]
I never— I'm alive.
[Everything implied in that statement is starkly clear in her own mind, and the way she looks at him is nothing short of fearful, Claudia clearly waiting for rebuke.]
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They lived a different life than you remember.
She ended her own life to prevent him from taking his own. That day, when he made the decision to die, there had been on a moment where he debated telling her of his intent or not. In the end, it seemed wrong not to make his last confession to her. Is this what would have happened, if he chose to end his life without saying goodbye to her?
He does not bother asking her; the answer seems too obvious for him to need the confirmation.
Instead, he asks another question. Slowly, he takes her hand in one of his, the other lightly touching the Command Spells which mark her as a Master. ]
The Grail chose you. [ His voice is low, quiet but not soft. ] What was your wish?
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[Her gaze remains lowered, fixed on her hand in his, until he questions her. Automatically, she looks upward again.]
My wish—? [That question surprises her—and, perhaps more notably than that, it puzzles her. Her eye, still brimming with tears, widens and then blinks. Moisture rolls down her cheek.] I don't... Does that matter?
[It's a terribly genuine question. She was told to assist Tokiomi Tohsaka and fight for his goals, so she hadn't questioned it or considered any sort of wish she might have had for herself. But, then, rarely ever has she acknowledged or acted on more than the most meager of her own desires, as if doing such a thing would make her selfish.]
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She has no wish, like him but also unlike him. The comparison is almost too crude to make. Her reasons for having no wish are pure: she is selfless, and honest. Kirei has no such genuine motivations; he is simply void. ]
No. I suppose it doesn't matter now.
[ After all, the Grail has surely been destroyed along with the world (worlds?) housing it. All that effort; all those years... swept away in ash. Kirei believed there would be an answer in that vessel; he was placing every last inch of himself that he had left in it.
What does matter? What remains?
Perhaps there is an answer here. Claudia Hortensia now stands before him -- but she is also not the same. She is not tainted, that is an impossibility, but she is colored by years unknown to him.
He reaches to touch her face, his thumb wiping away the tears staining her cheek. Should he be crying too? It is likely expected, but there is only a hollow feeling in his chest. ]
Claudia.
[ Saying her name comes coupled with a sensation difficult to define: like a pebble dropped down into the emptiness of him, and only the faintest ripple echoing back from the bottom. ]
no subject
[—But, she knows she shouldn't, for a lot of reasons. She takes a tiny step backwards and lets her gaze fall toward the ground once more, her stomach twisting with guilt all over again.]
[Uncomfortably, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, eye darting up to his face and back when she speaks again.]
Kirei...?
[She doesn't know what she should say to him now. Her eye is still wet, though she has regained some of her composure.]
no subject
What would a proper husband be expected to do? Embrace her, surely, and brush away her worries with reassurances and tender gestures. Such things don't come naturally to him, and the result of attempting it would likely be stiff and unpleasant. Given how she responds to his touch, she would likely be more unsettled than soothed to find herself embraced by a ghost. ]
Claudia. [ He says her name again, as if hearing the words aloud make her presence seem more tangible. ] Do you want me to go?
[ Because he cannot discern what is the proper choice here; he will do whatever she wishes. ]
no subject
No, that isn't— I mean, you can go if you want to. [She doesn't want him to go, but to say that now would be unforgivably selfish.] It's just—
[She looks aside, lips pursing together as she swallows. Her shame is evident on her face and in the way she holds herself, knock-kneed and shoulders hunched as she continues to clutch at her cross through her clothes.]
You shouldn't act like I'm the same person as your wife. [Normally, she wouldn't make that distinction, but this is different. That she is very much thinking of him as the same as person as her husband makes no difference to her now.] I told you, I wasn't— She was able to be stronger for you than I was. It wouldn't be right to presume I deserve the same treatment as her.
[And she certainly can't accept comfort from his touch. Her hesitance and inaction were indefensible. Even now, she's still waiting to be castigated for her failure.]
no subject
He considers her for a moment, with her one good eye full of tears, and he speaks simply. ]
It makes no difference to me.
I did nothing to deserve that sacrifice to begin with.
[ He states this bluntly, like an honest fact rather than any self deprecation. ]
If you will allow it, I will stay. [ Admitted as his intent, but not as his desire. ]
no subject
That's not true! [She blurts that out, and as she does so, the set of her jaw firms.] You did— You did more than enough for me.
[He made her happy, and he gave her a family. That was all she needed. There's another sharp stab of guilt at that thought, but it doesn't make her look away this time.]
[...She does, however, glance down again when he says that he'll stay, but the action is flustered and bashful rather than ashamed this time.]
Of course I'll allow it.
[He isn't rejecting her. The impossibility of that is almost enough to make her feel dizzy.]
no subject
He does not argue it now; he holds the words in his mouth and swallows them. This would not be the place to confess to her -- and now that he considers it, he is not sure why she in the graveyard at all.
Was she mourning him, even without a stone bearing his name? ]
We should leave. [ After a pause, he belatedly extends his hand to her again. ] Where would you like to go?
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Oh, I— That doesn't matter. [She hates this entire Tower. Few of the floors bring her any kind of comfort, and they're all fake, anyway.] The floor I usually go to when I want to pray is close to this one, if you'd rather leave.
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[ Although, he may as well ask what he has been thinking: ] What brought you here?
no subject
[There's a certain dryness to her tone as she agrees, but when she answers his question, she sounds straightforward and matter-of-fact.]
Oh, it's my job to make sure the graves here are properly taken care of. That's all.
[It's something she might passive-aggressively boycott, if not for the headstones featuring the names of past residents. They deserve more respect than that.]
no subject
I see. [ It's strangely easy to see her here, moving among graves. After all, he has always known her as being close to death. ] Was that your choice?
no subject
No. I was assigned to it. I... [She halts, seeming to struggle with herself for a moment, and then starts over.] The floor I pray on is only two above this one. I've been here for a little while now—a few months, really—s-so... I know a few things, at least. If you need anything, or if there's something you want answered, I can at least try to help you.
[It's the least she can do for him, really.]
no subject
Is she frightened of him? It would not be wrong of her to be. ]
Claudia. [ The way she speaks to him, offering help and advice, seems almost like a reflex. She is a generous woman, and she would offer that same assistance to anyone new she found in this Tower, he is certain. However, Kirei himself is not simply any lost soul; he is -- was -- the man she married. Her reaction betrays something.
Slowly, he loosens his grip on her hand again. He does not release her hand, but he does make it obvious that she may withdraw if she chooses. ]
Have you prayed for me before?
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Of course I have— I mean, I've— I—
[Her fingers twitch against his hand, like she isn't sure if she wants to squeeze it or pull away. A second later, she withdraws, both hands settling in front of herself to wring the cloth of her skirt between them. It isn't that she's afraid of him; it's just that she feels small and ashamed and uncertain of all her decisions.]
What do you want to know? [She feels as though she should offer him some explanation, but she doesn't understand what the purpose of his question is. There are a lot of things she could tell him, about her life and about the time she has spent here, and she doesn't know if she wants to tell him everything at once.]
no subject
Did he pray for her, after she was lost? After her passing, many -- acquaintances of his father, and her family, for lack of his own -- reassured him that she would be in their prayers. However, there was always something unspoken hidden in their tone, lurking under their reassurances. It was doubt, for what she had done to herself left many to believe her to be damned.
More often than not, he would deliberately push her from his mind. There was a truth in her departure which threatened to unravel him if he thought on it too often. ]
You said you said no wish... did you see the end of the War? [ Did the Grail offer her some answer and purpose, like the Grail had for him? ]
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[As she answers, her head bows.]
I did not.
[And that's all she says. She isn't a reticent person by nature, which only makes the curtness of her reply that much more obvious.]
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