towerofanimus | To see a world in a grain of sand

Entry tags:

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? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She allows him to take her hand without protest, but her fingers tremble. When the Command Seal is touched, they twitch. Still, she makes no attempt to pull away. She isn't even certain why the contact makes her so anxious herself.]

[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.]

[ Does that matter?

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. ]

[When he touches her, she freezes, her posture going stiff and tense. Fingers clasping at the cross beneath her clothes, she sucks in a deep, uneven breath, and for a moment, she simply looks at him, her expression open and vulnerable in its surprise. She wants to lean into that touch, or move forward and reach for him—]

[—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.]

[ There should be hurt when she withdraws. However, he doesn't show any shock or offense; it only makes sense for her to flinch from him. It is a wonder she has lasted this long.

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. ]

[At his question, she starts again, then cringes. She has to force herself to look upward.]

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.]

[ 'If you want to' lingers on his mind. Does he want to leave? He isn't certain. Seeing her again is nothing he ever imagined possible, outside of his eventual demise. To see her changed, to see her in a world of Second Magic where he carried out what he intended on that day... her words betray something: it isn't that Kirei did not confess to her, and ended his life in secret. He told her his intent, and she did not respond as he remembered.

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. ]

[When he says it makes no difference, her breath catches again, the resulting gasp shorter and sharper than the last one. Regardless of his (lack of) tone, to hear him say he didn't deserve it—]

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.]

[ Her defense of him is so familiar; so misplaced. She does not even hesitate to argue on his behalf, to insist that he is something better. The truth is something much darker, something even a saint like Claudia Hortensia could not absolve.

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?

[When he offers his hand, she hesitates. When she finally does take it, it's with a shyness that borders on reluctance.]

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.

[ It is not a matter of him preferring one place over another personally. However, he doubts this is the proper place for a husband and wife to continue any sort of conversation. He takes her hand securely, neither overtly gentle nor firm, and he nods to her suggestion easily. ] This place does not suit you.

[ Although, he may as well ask what he has been thinking: ] What brought you here?

I suppose it doesn't.

[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.]

[ He focuses on the sensation of her hand in his own. He tightens his grip a little, in a way which might be mistaken for desperation, but instead he is trying to gauge how solid her body is, to verify that she is not illusion after all. ]

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?

[When his hand holds hers tighter, she automatically shies away from that contact, too, attempting to tug her hand partway from his grip.]

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.]

[ When he feels her beginning to pull away, he debates letting her go. If she wants to draw away, he should allow it -- however, he does hesitate. Instead, he squeezes down. He is not forceful in this gesture, not demanding or snatching her close again. He is simply regaining the grip and holding her attention.

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?

[Every time he says her name, she feels uncomfortably aware of her heart beating in her chest, the rhythm anxious and heavy. The question he asks, though, takes her by surprise. It should be normal for a woman to pray for the soul of her departed husband, shouldn't it? Automatically, she blurts back:]

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.]

[ He lets her withdraw without pursuing her. His own hands remain at his sides, his posture tall and stiff. He watches her hands twitch and fuss, and his frown deepens.

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? ]

[Something about that question makes her shoulders stiffen. Of course she knew she couldn't avoid the topic of the War with him, but—]

[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.]

[ It is unlike her, as he recalls, to be so short in her replies. It is not as if she cannot be curt when the moment allows, however there is so much left unsaid that it exposes her reluctance.

In that case, he will not press her for more. ]

I will not speak of it, if it troubles you. [ Then, he offers after a moment: ] I did not see the end myself.

[His answer brings about a curious mixture of relief and further guilt. She shouldn't be running away from being honest with him, and yet... She wants to ask him about his own War, but to do so now would be hypocritical at best. She wouldn't expect him to speak openly with her when she is keeping so much to herself.]

It's just—

[She struggles with herself for a moment, then tells him:]

I'm not proud of myself. I'm not as strong as you are. I'm not strong enough to be able to do what is required of me, or trust myself to make the right choices...

[Which, as far as she's concerned, is just proof that her taking the role of Master over him is some kind of mistake.]

Is that what you believe?

[ It is an honest question. A different tone would make it sound accusatory or presumptuous, but he asks with legitimate curiosity. Is that truly what she thinks of herself, or is it simply brought on with guilt of seeing him again?

She says she is not as strong as him, and she is incorrect. He glances over her, and even if she is steadier than he remembers: standing tall and without support, there is signs of that frailty still within her. ]

Only physically.

[ Otherwise, he is a much weaker man, in ways which are dangerous to name. ]

It is. [He doesn't ask with anything more than curiosity, but when she replies, her tone comes with more firmness than is perhaps called for.] You wouldn't... Doing as the Church has asked of us [assisting Tokiomi, killing as necessary] wouldn't shake you. This kind of thing— I'm not cut out for it.

[She doesn't like her physical weakness, either, and especially not in this place. It makes her a burden to others with no way to adequately repay them. Even when she tries to protect herself... Her expression pinches.]

I'm useless.

Edited 2013-09-26 07:57 (UTC)

That does not make you weak.

[ He states this simply, not in any defensive or chiding tone.

Where he follows blindly, without reservation, she wavers and holds herself back for her own personal beliefs. She would not accept an order to kill, the way Kirei does without hesitation, and that is because of her convictions being powerful in their own right. ]

You are mistaken.

But I—

[Her hands ball up at her sides, and she swallows.]

What good am I if I can't even serve the Church? Or if I can't do anything to help the people here?

[She couldn't save Kirei. She can't save anyone, not on her own.]

Claudia.

[ It seems impossible to hear this from her. She, who is nothing short of a saint, somehow finds herself weaker than him. She somehow believes herself less worthy than a sinner. ]

You are stronger than you realize.

More than I.

But I...

[She wants to remind him that the way she had faltered cost him his life—that she isn't the same woman he knows—but she falters there, too. She bites her lip.]

Forget it. [She shakes her head.] I don't think that's true, but it doesn't matter.

[Everything she admired about him was something she herself lacked, after all, so how can what he says be true?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To see a world in a grain of sand

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