towerofanimus

Entry tags:

four.

Characters: Claudia Hortensia & OPEN
Setting: Floor 82, Floor 7, Floor 48, the stairs outside Floor 27, Floor 3, Floor 82 again, & choose your own adventure.
Format: Brackets preferred
Summary: Candy-hunting catch-all post
Warnings: Will add as necessary

I. Sunday - Floor 82
[Well... That was unexpected. Claudia, mask removed, stands alone in the ballroom that makes up this floor, a small bag held in her hands. She rifles through it, but she finds nothing of particular note; it's just more candy.]

[Then who, exactly, was that person? What was that all about?]

[She decides to go through with her seep of this floor as she had intended to, before the interruption. But, really, it's less about finding candy now and more about try to see if there's anything else to be found here that might provide some kind of explanation.]

II. Monday - Floor 7
[Claudia doesn't want to swim, but that doesn't mean she's going to ignore this floor. So today, rather than checking the pool itself, she can be found rifling through the lockers. In both locker rooms, actually, because she's completely ignoring the genders they're labeled with.]

[No biggie.]

III. Tuesday - Floor 48
[This seems like a natural place to search, given her job as a gravekeeper, so Claudia makes her sweep of this floor at the same time she performs her duties. At first she thinks nothing of it when she leans down to retrieve the chocolate roses lying across one of the graves, but then her eye happens to glance the name engraved there, and she frowns.]

[Aoi Tohsaka.]

[Surely... It must be a coincidence. She tells herself that, but she still finds herself lingering, her brow furrowed.]

IV. Wednesday - Outside Floor 27
[Claudia doesn't actually set foot on the laboratory floor. Instead, she lingers outside it, on the stairs, seeming uncertain of what to do. She could search this one. It probably wouldn't be too dangerous, provided she doesn't put her hands in anything they shouldn't be in. But...]

[But she can't bring herself to step forward, so she's stymied.]

V. Thursday - Floor 3
[Claudia doesn't intend to go searching for candy today! She's gathered quite a bit over the last four days, after all, and she thinks she's earned a break. So, this afternoon, she can be found in the library rather than roaming the Tower, quietly reading a book.]

[...The feeling that she should keep looking is nagging at her, though, so she's a little more unsettled and agitated than she'd like to be on her "day off." She's trying not to let it get to her, but the feeling probably comes across in her demeanor more than she would care for it to...]

VI. Friday - Floor 82
[For the third time, she's come to this floor, and for the third time, she's encountered that person. She doesn't know anything more than she did the first time; they said nothing to her even when she tried to speak to them. Truthfully, she feels rather frustrated. Mask discarded, she doesn't even bother to check the inside of the bag this time, scowling at the empty air.]

VII. Whenever, Wherever
[Other than the prompts given above, Claudia will be investigating the following floors on the following days:

Sunday, afternoon to evening: 101, 100, 99, 96, 94, 93, 88, 87, 86, 83, 81, 1
Monday, morning to noon: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 18, 19, 21
Tuesday, afternoon to evening: 50, 51, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 60
Wednesday, afternoon to evening: 82, 21, 22, 25, 28, 19, 18, and most of the others she searched on Monday
Thursday, throughout the day: None! She can be found around Floors 1, 3, and 101 at various times, however.
Friday, afternoon: 62, 40, 39, 38

So if you'd like to run into her on any of these floors, have at it.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It is incorrect to say he ever really lied to her. In a way, perhaps their entire union itself was a lie, as he could not love her -- but it was not as if he did not make the attempt, as if he did not press and crave desperately without result. She did know how he felt -- or what he did not feel -- after all, and in all her grace that did not matter to her.

He did, however, omit details to her; small inclinations that he likewise tried to deny to himself. But now, he mouth moves and he cannot withhold his admission. ]

Because, what I desire-- [ his hand tightens on hers; not painfully, but there is an urgency in his grip and tension in his voice. ] -- what I will do cannot be forgiven.

I may not survive the result, when faced with what I do, and the truth of my sins.

[When she feels the way his grip tightens around her hand, she moves closer, immediately and almost without thought. She still has that bag of candy held in one hand, so she shifts it into the crook of her arm, at the same time bringing his hand closer to her body so that she can clasp it in both of hers. She holds onto him firmly, the gesture meant as a comfort and a reassurance.]

[She looks at him directly now, her expression serious.]

What do you think you will do?

[She asks the question softly, but her tone is no less firm than is called for.]

[ His throat feels tight. Trying to swallow down that tension gains him nothing, and his grip on her tightens a little more. A part of him want to clench down harder, knowing how fragile and frail her slender fingers are and--

He realizes he's never really heard to scream. He's seen her cry, enduring pain and even sobbing under the weight of it, or she may have raised her voice in fear, but she's never truly screamed in front of him. Even when she took her own life, she knew what she had done, and faced it without fear.

Why does that thought linger so strongly on his mind? Why does he keep wondering what she'd sound like if she were truly horrified? What she'd sound like if he twisted his hand and snapped her slender wrists? ]

Do not ask me that.

[ His tone is flat, but it seems more entreating than commanding. ]

But I—

[She starts to speak, but then she cuts herself off. Her brow furrows as she looks up at him. She bites her lip. She won't try to force him to admit anything, but even so—]

But I love you. [She speaks quietly. Maybe one could argue that her telling him so, in their circumstances, is inappropriate, but she means it in the purest way she can. He's family to her, just as she said, and that's why she simply can't turn away from this. Her voice gains volume again as she continues.] So, I want to be able to understand.

You are wrong to love me.

[ The words come simply, bluntly, but he is not harsh. He states this as a simple fact, not viciously with any intent to harm. Her love for him was what ended her life before. By comparison: in this world of hers where he perished, she thrived. The evidence is obvious: he should have died that day, rather than her.

Now that they are together again, he may be the death of her twice -- and not so indirectly.

He reclaims his hand, drawing back. It is easy to fight her grip, gentle as it is. ]

Would you hear my confession?

I'm not. [Her reply is similarly blunt, though there's an insistent undercurrent to her words that his lacked.] There's no one that it would be wrong to love. You're just as worthy of it as any other living human.

[When he draws his hand away, she allows it without resistance or comment. In fact, she steps backward in reply, putting more space between the two of them again. She holds the bag of candy in her hands close to her chest, gripping it as though in his stead.]

I would, if you're willing to give it.

[ She speaks with such surety, with such conviction, and it does not seem like anything would manage to sway her.

Except, perhaps, what he admits to her now.

He crosses himself, in habit, and he kneels before her. His gestures are not overdone, overtly pious or self-pitying. It merely seems right; ritualistic for the confession he offers to her here. She may redeem him, or damn him. ]

You took your life, to spare mine, and I felt regret.

But it was not like you would imagine.

[ He gazes up at her, in all her beauty that does not stir him. He knows she is beautiful, as he was told it so many times by those congratulating his marriage, but never once has he been moved by the sight of her.

Except when she was in pain -- and she so often was. ]

I wanted to end your life, and it was not a desire born from mercy.

[ Is he saying this truly to repent, to make amends to her? Or is he looking forward to the pain and shock on her face? ]

[He crosses himself and kneels, and she automatically takes another step back, the action instinctive. For what the gesture could be, the way he moves is plain and matter-of-fact, and she has never known Kirei to act without reason. It must be something truly grave, then, and that makes her nervous, an anxious buzz thrumming between her ears and in her gut.

I wanted to end your life, and it was not a desire born from mercy.

Immediately, her eye widens and her lips part, the expression plainly one of shock. For just a moment, her gaze is suspicious and wary where she looks down at him—but then, abruptly, it goes blank altogether, as though a shutter has been pulled down to hide her feelings from sight.]

I see.

[When she speaks, her voice is toneless, neither cold nor comforting. The buzzing in her head and the pit of her stomach both intensify, leaving with them a strange, unpleasant weightless feeling, like she wouldn't be able to find her footing again if she tried to move.

But—that's all there is. There's no pain or anger, or even fear. Dimly, she thinks she should feel those things—that it would be normal and natural for her to feel them—but she must be too shocked to experience any of that. Instead, there's only confusion and uncertainty.

Kirei wanted to do that?

Kirei wanted to kill her?

She can't imagine that. She can't imagine wanting to take another person's life, and regretting their death because of it. And yet, this man that she trusts and is utterly vulnerable to even now—

Did he struggle with that impulse throughout their entire marriage? Is that why he took his own life? The thought makes her dizzy. Something like that, and she never knew. She loved him and wanted nothing more than to help him, but she never realized something so important.

She really failed him, didn't she?

Numbly, she opens her mouth to speak again.]

But that doesn't change what I've told you. No matter what demons you struggle with, you are worthy of love.

[And, besides—

When she speaks next, her tone is gentle.]

You could have easily killed me at any time, but you didn't and haven't. You've chosen not to. Isn't that right?

[ As he kneels, his hands have rested on his thighs. When Claudia speaks, every spoken phrase builds a deeper tension in him. His hands clench, tighten, and grip what little fabric he can bunch up within his fists. It's not much, but without that small barrier it would be worse: surely even his blunt nails would dig into his palms, with force strong enough to draw blood. ]

You would absolve me?

[ When he speaks, it's something deadened and disbelieving. As he continues, his voice seems to tremble with a growing intensity: numbness turning to desperation.

She has no reason to forgive him. He gave her nothing. He could not show her honest love; only a parody when he tried to emulate the emotion and failed. He could not make her happy, as she surely saw through his farce. He lied. He used her, to experiment with his own deficient nature.

Yet, even knowing this -- and worse, knowing what he fantasied -- she still offers him forgiveness, and claims he deserves a love which he will never be able to feel. ]

I should have died.

[ This woman; this saint is far beyond him. Her remorse and her love goes beyond his comprehension. How is she not hurt? How is she not refusing to ever see his face again? A lesser human being would react these ways, but she is not. There is no one on this Earth with depths that can match hers.

And yet even she could not repair his damage, so what hope did he have? ]

Your memories. Your world. That must be what is right, in God's vision.

[ His body seems to buckle, but even so the motion of his descent is slow and controlled. His body bows completely, his face nearly touching the floor, his head mere inches away from her feet. His hands slide out, to lay flat against the floor, but they slowly curl, nails scraping against the ballroom tile.

What kind of God would allow him to live, and condemn her to die? ]

It must be.

[The sound of his voice, and the sight of him sinking to the floor before her— It pulls at her so strongly that she feels sick, her heartbeat a painful, steady throb. He's suffering. He's suffering because of something beyond his control, something she was never able to truly see or understand. Even now, she can't comprehend it. Abruptly, she feels angry—at herself and at other forces, but not at him.]

[What can she do for him? She isn't sure. Maybe she can't do anything, and even knowing what he's told her now, she's as powerless and worthless as she ever was. But— She doesn't want him to suffer, or to think that he deserves to die.]

No. [She replies simply, but the softness of her tone remains.] I don't have the power to absolve anything. That's simply the way I feel.

[Her acceptance means nothing more than that. After all, she's nothing more than a woman, flawed and weak in her own ways. Slowly, she lowers herself onto her knees in front of him.]

Don't say that. You can't know something like that. [She hesitates, then—but then she reaches out to touch him. It would be a lie to say she feels no nervousness in the wake of his confession, but even so, she trusts him. If he chose to kill her, he could do so. He would do so. So, the fact that he is instead here, prone in front of her... Her pale hand settles in his dark hair, her fingers running through it.] You've done nothing wrong.

[No matter what his thoughts have been, he has never hurt her.]

Please stand up, Kirei.

[ A part of him tenses when she touches him. That gentle hand in his hair doesn't soothe him, even soft and adoring as the contact may be. He stays where he is, and he does not rise.

Her continued sympathy and gentleness only worsen the situation. He is not put at ease by her words; only more riled. When such words slip from her lips, an urge bubbles up in him to reach out and strangle the sounds from her throat. She would realize then that she was wrong, and that he was right. The desire burns red against his closed eyes and his shoulders tighten.

When he speaks, his voice is somewhat muffled by the close proximity to the floor, but still audible. ]

It must be wrong.

What God would sacrifice a saint, and spare a sinner?

[ His hands clench together, forming fists against the floor, and his breaths become shorter. His chest feels tight, and his teeth clench. ]

It must be.

[This time, the sense that her words aren't helping is clear, even if she doesn't know what else to do. There's a pause as her hand stills, Claudia remaining silent as she watches him. She can't see his face, but the tension in his shoulders is visible to her. When she pulls away and straightens, she doesn't urge him to stand with her.]

I'm not a saint, Kirei. [This time, she sounds firmer.] And God— God didn't sacrifice her. He didn't sacrifice that woman who gave her life for you. She made that choice for herself, because she loved you and valued your life more than her own.

[Just as she failed to.]

I wouldn't devalue that.

[ He still does not rise.

He remains where he is, tense and still, even when she moves to her feet. He does, by a measure, lift himself from the floor -- just barely. He presses his hands flat again, raising himself just a little higher from the floor, and his eyes remain cast downward. ]

You speak like you are not the same person. Like you are not also Claudia Hortensia.

Why do you say that?

[Automatically, though his face is still downturned, she shrugs. It's a simple motion, but the gesture is self-depreciating somehow.]

It's obvious, isn't it? [She lets that reply hang in the air for a second before she continues.] I told you, the woman you remember— She was better than me. It's not my place to speak of her choice as though it was my own.

That is not true.

[ He straightens a bit more, properly kneeling again, but his head remains tipped downward: gaze focused on the floor. ]

If what has been told is true, and this place -- if this place is some purgatory, at the end of all worlds, then you are all that remains.

It is not a sin that you survived.

[At those words, she draws a sharp, startled breath, as though she has been struck. And in a way, she has been; the retort is a blow to some hidden, vulnerable part of her, and it knocks the air from her lungs.]

[To hear him say that should be a great relief, but instead, all she can see is that grinning shadow speaking in his voice.]

How can you say that to me now? When you're... [She trails off, gesturing with one arm to his position on the floor.] If that's the case, there's nothing-- There's nothing more or less sinful about your survival, if that's how you feel.

[She stays silent for a moment, biting her lip, before she starts again.]

Being here now wasn't my choice, anyway. And, whether or not it was-- There would be nothing wrong with you or anyone else hating me for it. I wasn't able to do anything for you, or--or anyone.

[ At her words, his head slowly shakes. It's a mild gesture, as he moves his head from side to side. ] No. There is a difference.

You survived to carry on an honest life. But I...

There is no virtuous benefit to be reaped from my survival.

[ He finally looks up, meeting her gaze, and he does not waver. ]

It is not possible to hate you.

And I do not believe it possible for anyone in this world to do anything for me.

Is that so?

[She speaks blankly. Once again, there's something so dizzying about hearing him say those words that she can't feel anything else. An honest life? Did she?]

[But of course, he can't say otherwise, because he doesn't know. Tokiomi—]

[She needs to tell him that. It would be selfish and cowardly to continue to hide it. But even as she thinks that, a confession isn't what comes to her lips.]

That doesn't matter.

[She kneels down again, but she doesn't reach out to touch him this time. She simply wants to be at eye level, rather than looking down at him as he speaks.]

You haven't done anything wrong simply by being alive. A life is a life. It has value.

[But it's harder to respond to his final words than the rest. That admission seems to cause her pain where his earlier one did not, her hurt and frustration apparent in her expression now. Her brow furrows as she bites her lip again, and her gaze drops away from him, down to the floor.]

[There's no way for her to help, even if that's all that she wants now.]

I'm sorry.

[Even as those words leave her mouth, they feel so inadequate that she wants to cry.]

[ When she kneels, he looks up at her, meeting her one eye. There are no tears in it, nor any judgment. Sorrow, however -- there is plenty of sorrow. There always had been, in a way, hadn't there?

He actually cannot recall what she looked like, when she was happy.

Was she ever? ]

But if I continue to live, I cannot guarantee what I may do.

What trespass I may commit.

[ His jaw tightens, and he glances down again, breaking gaze from her. ]

You have no obligation to me. You do not need to stay.

I'm not staying out of obligation. [She does touch him now, just a quick brush of her fingertips across the back of his hand before she draws them back again.] It's my choice to.

[She had said the same thing to him, and yet he had stayed with her and protected her. Even though that wasn't something she could reasonably expect of him, even though he has told her now of wanting to kill her...]

Besides, I—

[Suddenly, she breaks off, and when she starts again, there's a new sort of determination behind her words.]

Would you be willing to hear my confession, too?

[ He watches her fingers move across his skin: so much paler and thinner than his own hands, and his frown deepens. She should not stay. It will destroy her to stay.

He almost reminds her of this, but she speaks first, and Kirei lifts his head again.

The offer surprises him. It is not what he anticipated, and he is not sure what she would say, or offer. ]

... I will. It is fair, after you heard me.

[She smiles, a little.]

Alright. Thank you.

[She shifts in front of him, settling against the floor, her legs tucked underneath her. The floor is hard and not particularly comfortable, but to her, it doesn't seem like such an arduous thing to suffer. A little bit of discomfort is hardly enough to make her complain—and when she considers what she means to tell him, it seems like even less of a concern. Her hands bunch in her skirt, fussing nervously at the cloth.]

[It was an easy thing to admit to Kariya. The confession had been a spur of the moment decision, and it all tumbled out of her mouth at once. Saying the same thing to Kirei, though... She feels ashamed and afraid.]

T— Tokiomi Tohsaka. [Abruptly, she blurts out the name.] He was your teacher, wasn't he?

[Perhaps she should be sure of that, first.]

[ He watches her move. It's easier for her here, in the Tower, than what he remembers. Is there other forces at work, which make her illness more bearable, or is it simply that she is truly better off without him, so much that her health itself surpasses all expectation?

Her question surprises him, although he suspects it shouldn't. His father was a close ally of the Tohsakas. If Claudia were chosen in his stead, it would only be natural that she follow the same path. ]

He was. [ He nods slightly, as he speaks. ] And he was yours?

[She returns his nod with one of her own.]

He was. But I...

[Her mouth moves to form another word, but her voice fails her. She bites her lip. In her lap, her hands grip her skirt tighter, and she looks downward, watching her trembling fingers rather than the expression on his face.]

But I—

[How is she supposed to say this to him? Her guilt smothers the words in her throat. He should know that she isn't as pure or sinless as he seems to imagine her, but even so, the weight of her confession pins her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, leaving her powerless to voice it.]

—I killed him.

[Finally, she chokes out the words, cringing at her own bluntness. Her shoulders curl, and her head bows further. She could try to offer him some explanation as to why, or explain the circumstances surrounding what occurred, but she doesn't. No excuse that she could give would change the fact that she had murdered a man who had shown her nothing but hospitality, betraying him and betraying the judgment of the Church.]

[ Kirei goes still.

He remembers his Command Spells reappearing, and he remembers Gilgamesh's words. To continue in the War would mean defying his teacher. It would mean fighting him and his Archer, and it would mean death. It's so much easier to kill a Master, rather than attack the Servant.

But is that what motivated her? It seems unlikely. He does not know if she lost her Servant, under a similar circumstance, or even had reason to defy him.

She looks ready to cry, but he is not inspired to touch her or offer any comfort. ]

Why, Claudia?

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