[Asch is still holding her hand, and here, he holds it out to her, like it's some kind of proof.]
Look. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen to anyone.
[He's Upset at himself for not including this in his speech during trial, and that she had to suffer, but instead, it just sounds like he's flatly upset at her.]
I told people to vote for me so they wouldn't be punished for not voting. So they wouldn't be at the mercy of this stupid manor, or suffer for no reason if they tried to vote for themselves. I've already died—I don't care what happens to me anymore—and it was always a better choice than splitting the vote between uninvolved nobodies, or hurting someone like you!
[As Asch speaks, his tone rises, clear notes of exhaustion and frustration stretching through—his grip on Anya's hand ever-so-slightly increasing. On his final, ringing word, he seems to realise—and lets her go, gently, a shadow of concern and embarrassment at the lapse of control flitting across his face as he does.
Almost as quickly, his expression flattens out again—and he turns his head slightly to frown at a wall instead.]
[anya's normally a pushover - she's easy to convince, to persuade, to earn her trust and get her to believe that what you think is right since she doesn't hold an opinion on a lot of things. she's amiable and easy-going. the exception to this rule is when someone starts talking badly about her friends.
that includes when the person talking badly about her friends is one of her friends.
so she doesn't flinch back even at his tone rises, even with the frustration and exhaustion - but instead when he lets her go, she just fits her uninjured hand through the bars and tries to catch his again instead.]
Нет. Not suffering, not a better choice - because Anya cares about what happens to you.
Even if you are mad... I will not say sorry this time. But...
[she seems to be losing her steam, just a little - though she pushes through]
... should not be mad that people want you to be okay. I want you to be okay. [though by now her volume has dropped, emotion staining her words even as she forces her voice not to tremble] Even if... you die before, I do not want you to die again. Be gone again. It is not right.
[Tired as he is, Asch's hand is actually easy enough to catch. His immediate reaction is unconscious—and he moves to jerk his hand away reflexively—before his shoulders drop, fingers still held within Anya's, expression markedly unreadable.
...
He's still looking at the wall though. For a while, he just sits, silently. It almost seems like he's blanking Anya entirely, even with her holding on to his hand.
Finally, he breathes in—and lets it out, a long, quiet exhale.]
It's not about what's right or wrong, or what people want. That's not how reality works.
All of us... we're in danger. I'm surprised more people haven't died, yet. All of this is just a trap, unless we can escape it. [He's been sure about this since day one.] Until then, it's just going to pick us off, one by one, in some different, disgusting way, or turn us against each other. But like this...
[...]
...At least I can go on my own terms. Without being controlled by one of those monsters, or dying in the dark. Without any worry of someone else dying for me.
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constellates) wrote2020-02-28 08:43 pm
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[Asch is still holding her hand, and here, he holds it out to her, like it's some kind of proof.]
Look. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen to anyone.
[He's Upset at himself for not including this in his speech during trial, and that she had to suffer, but instead, it just sounds like he's flatly upset at her.]
I told people to vote for me so they wouldn't be punished for not voting. So they wouldn't be at the mercy of this stupid manor, or suffer for no reason if they tried to vote for themselves. I've already died—I don't care what happens to me anymore—and it was always a better choice than splitting the vote between uninvolved nobodies, or hurting someone like you!
[As Asch speaks, his tone rises, clear notes of exhaustion and frustration stretching through—his grip on Anya's hand ever-so-slightly increasing. On his final, ringing word, he seems to realise—and lets her go, gently, a shadow of concern and embarrassment at the lapse of control flitting across his face as he does.
Almost as quickly, his expression flattens out again—and he turns his head slightly to frown at a wall instead.]
no subject
that includes when the person talking badly about her friends is one of her friends.
so she doesn't flinch back even at his tone rises, even with the frustration and exhaustion - but instead when he lets her go, she just fits her uninjured hand through the bars and tries to catch his again instead.]
Нет. Not suffering, not a better choice - because Anya cares about what happens to you.
Even if you are mad... I will not say sorry this time. But...
[she seems to be losing her steam, just a little - though she pushes through]
... should not be mad that people want you to be okay. I want you to be okay. [though by now her volume has dropped, emotion staining her words even as she forces her voice not to tremble] Even if... you die before, I do not want you to die again. Be gone again. It is not right.
no subject
...
He's still looking at the wall though. For a while, he just sits, silently. It almost seems like he's blanking Anya entirely, even with her holding on to his hand.
Finally, he breathes in—and lets it out, a long, quiet exhale.]
It's not about what's right or wrong, or what people want. That's not how reality works.
All of us... we're in danger. I'm surprised more people haven't died, yet. All of this is just a trap, unless we can escape it. [He's been sure about this since day one.] Until then, it's just going to pick us off, one by one, in some different, disgusting way, or turn us against each other. But like this...
[...]
...At least I can go on my own terms. Without being controlled by one of those monsters, or dying in the dark. Without any worry of someone else dying for me.