Gladion (
lovelledup) wrote in
tornheart2017-08-07 08:52 pm
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[CLOSED]
Who: Gladion and Chikusa
When: Backdated to 7/10
Where: The flower shop where Chikusa is working
What: Following up from here.
Not for the first time since he asked to talk, Gladion wonders what he's even doing. In all honesty, he's not sure what he wants out of this conversation, or why he wants to ask in the first place. It only feels that much odder when he walks into the flower shop that isn't the one his dad owns, knowing the person whose family does own it is the one who'd been most vocal about arguing with Chikusa on the network.
But he was the one who asked to talk, so he's here, and looking around slightly awkwardly at the flowers since he hasn't immediately spotted Chikusa.
When: Backdated to 7/10
Where: The flower shop where Chikusa is working
What: Following up from here.
Not for the first time since he asked to talk, Gladion wonders what he's even doing. In all honesty, he's not sure what he wants out of this conversation, or why he wants to ask in the first place. It only feels that much odder when he walks into the flower shop that isn't the one his dad owns, knowing the person whose family does own it is the one who'd been most vocal about arguing with Chikusa on the network.
But he was the one who asked to talk, so he's here, and looking around slightly awkwardly at the flowers since he hasn't immediately spotted Chikusa.
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"Hey." As if they still aren't at an awkward stage or anything. This is fine.
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Nope, not awkward at all. Not when he's still barely been talking to someone who used to be his best friend when they both thought they were normal people, and that best friend just sparked a huge debate about whether or not it might be okay to kill government officials or whoever else. Not the slightest bit awkward.
"There's probably a better place to talk than out here, right?"
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Still, he understands what Gladion is saying. There's a time and place, and in the front area of a still open shop in the daytime when everyone tries to cram their business in because of the curfew.... Yeah. Not it. So he nods to the back, shuffling over and leading the way to a small storeroom. It's a bit cramped, brimming with the smell of earth, but it does well enough. Sagging onto a small stack of fertilizer, he inclines his head in Gladion's direction.
"What did you want to talk about...?"
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"Why are you so calm about the idea of killing people?"
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Then again, it's not as if anyone has actually bothered to ask. It's only ever been "murder is bad" so far, a sentiment full of moral bullshit that grates at him.
...Well. Maybe there was a reason Ciro was friends with Asher.
"It's... a few reasons," he manages after a little bit, words slow and quiet, but just as calm as his words on the app had been. "I guess to start... I've had to do it for years now, so..." His shoulders rise up, barely recognizable as a shrug. "When something happens enough... You get used to it, don't you?"
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The question of exactly why he cared what the answer was was the one he was still trying to work out.
When he gets that answer, he's not sure how to respond to it, though he's likewise resigned to this conversation being full of awkward silence. It leads to so many more questions, but he's not sure how much he wants to pry. When he finally settles on something, it's quiet and calm in return. "It must have been a lot if you can say it that way."
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That counts for something when they'd only started before becoming teenagers, and nothing but what they could take for themselves.
After a second, however, he follows up. "It'd been something we'd been born into... So it wasn't as if we had a choice from the start. The only thing that made it different... was deciding how we would do it for ourselves and no one else." A soft puff of a sigh escapes him. "If Ken was here, he'd blab about the whole thing easily..."
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But this... Maybe...
"...You know what the mafia is.... Right?" With Asher's memories, he would hope so.
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It's not like he can remember, after all. Maybe it was trauma, maybe he never really knew his parents at all, but the only thing Chikusa can remember is white. White labs, white labcoats, the white of the bandages wrapped around his head and the sheets they occasionally tossed over corpses to lazily keep them out of sight... He has to admit that there's a good possibility that he was never actually of Estraneo blood. He might not even be truly Italian.
Well. It's not like it matters now.
"So, even ignoring anything else... That kind of setting... It's not one that lets people be soft."
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He's quiet again for a moment, thinking, about that and about the current situation. "You wouldn't do it unless it was the only option, right?"
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"This kind of thing.... I don't want it to ever happen again." Slowly, almost so much so as to not be noticed until he's all the way there, he lets his head loll to the side. "Others who argued against it say that there's ways other than killing the source... Other solutions. But there's never something they can answer, and it's this: how can you be certain that they won't go after you again?"
And it's because that's not possible. At least, not without being just about as bad as death. People, whether a regular teenage murderer or a ghost from centuries past or someone who can see into multiple worlds, are all the same in that manner. You can't guarantee some one else's actions or feelings.
"Even if someone says to put them into prison, well... People can break out of those." Another shrug. They are steadily declining in effort and visibility. "I did."
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He turns his gaze to the floor. "I don't think putting someone in jail here would be too easy, either. Even if they were behind all of this, we'd just sound nuts." There's something defeated-sounding in his voice as he says that; it's not that he thinks there's no way to get out of this situation, but still, what Chikusa's saying doesn't sit easy. He'd rather not believe that killing someone is actually the best option. And even then, there's the other side of it.
"What if that doesn't work, either, though? This whole thing is weird enough that I'm not sure it's that simple to stop whoever or whatever's behind it."
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"In that case, if it can't be contained and it can't be killed... That's where it gets more complicated, annoyingly enough... But that's something we can't tell right now. It may be a question to ask Luci, or the ones in the Velvet Room. They're our only sources if we can't go with a simple action. Still..." Reaching up, he adjusts his glasses.
"We had to be given the.... resources we have been for a reason... The answer might be with those if it comes to that point."
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He looks back toward Chikusa. "Thanks. For answering my question. I'm not sure I really agree, but... I can't say you're wrong, either."
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Getting up slowly, he takes the time to compose some of his other thoughts. "That's.... mostly all I can ask for. It became kind of obvious after a while that the things we did wouldn't be looked on favorably by most people..." You don't end up staying out of prison by being oblivious to common laws, after all. A sigh slips out of him. "But it does get tiring arguing with people..."
Thus why he gave up on one argument and asked to be paid for a longer explanation with another.
Upright now, he seems to hesitate a moment. "...Were you going to do anything else today?"
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He stands up as well, giving Chikusa a slightly curious look at the question, then shaking his head. "No. Why?"
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"....I have lunch break in a little over an hour..."
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"Heh. You better not spend that time gushing over that actor you used to like." It's really weird for the words coming out of his mouth to sound simultaneously completely natural and very awkward to him, but that's probably the territory of having had two separate lives.
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"I'm not the type to do that.... and the movies were good anyway..."
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"If you're still working for a while, I guess I'll come back and meet you when you get off." He's already distracted Chikusa from work for a while, and if he's left to his own devices, he'd rather not spend his time hanging around a flower shop.
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He settles at the counter, easing up a bit and nodding. "Then... I'll see you later?" A part of him feels just a little... anxious, perhaps, at the idea. Is he excited? Unsure? Well, it's too late now. He supposes he's committed.