asgardeventide | 014

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014 - video;

[Alice can be seen washing something in the sink at Needle in a Haystack. Upon further inspection, it's the vorpal blade, along with what used to be her good apron. She's conscious enough to already have cleaned herself up, her hair still wet and Alice in a simple, white dress, that might as well be the Victorian equivalent of a nightgown. Of course the knife comes with her, at her side.

Alice hates these attacks, they leave her drained. It shows in her face, her disconnect, distance, and her eyes almost hollowed. These things certainly take a toll on her, and Alice is tired of it.]

Those who speak of sacrifice usually mean they should be made by others, but that's not the case anymore.

Or is it?

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Sacrifice can take many forms...

[ Barnaby's no stranger to sacrifice. Hell, his partner nearly sacrificed himself to save the rest of them. That's not even mentioning his parents...

He's been pretty out of it for weeks, but he saw what happened to Freyr. He doesn't know the gods personally (or as personally as any of the Travellers can manage), but he can only imagine that there people still hurting. ]

When it comes down to it, sacrifice isn't always made by choice. You do what you have to whether you like it or not. Speaking of it is pretty irrelevant when you compare it to the circumstances, if you ask me.

Edited 2012-11-15 17:07 (UTC)

Well, he did make the decision to die a flashy death all on his own, didn't he?

Obviously. Good riddance to them.

[And Alice isn't too well at the moment. Rather clipped, distant. Cold above other things.]

Then what would do? What is the point of it if it changes nothing?

I cannot fathom any emotion to care. They all need to die.

Them? Only one is dead, or do you mean the armies outside or something else?

All of them.

[She could sympathize. Part of her probably did still want them dead, every last one of them. It was only part, however.]

The Giants first. One step at a time.

What they needed was to let the battle rage on. No clear-cut winner, was there? No gratification. I've never been more disappointed.

I guess that's true on many accounts, isn't it? If you refer to Freyr-san's actions in this case, it does seem like he had sacrificed himself for the rest of us...

Edited 2012-11-16 17:04 (UTC)

It takes too long.

The battle to rage on? Do you want that to be remedied?

It doesn't matter, it hasn't gone away. The fighting won't go away.

That's true... So what happens now, I wonder?

Just gives me more time to plan out creative ways to make it last. Don't be too impatient. Impatience gets you killed.

The same as always.

Edited 2012-11-18 05:44 (UTC)

We don't get to leave just yet?

You and your knife are hardly a battle.

[He sees the post. But it's not the post he's concerned about, so much as the young woman herself. She's far different now, from when he met her, from when he worked with her, from when he saw her on the battlefield.

He's there, before long. In the shop, his steps near-silent. Drawn by the sound of water running. But he knocks before he approaches.

He looks quite the mess himself, robe bloodstained and torn in many places, with some wounds healed, other shallow ones remaining.]

So you keep insisting.

[Roxas and Ezio are likely to know it best how these conflicts really affect Alice. She's done all she could to help others, overcome with feelings of regret, shame, anger, and helplessness. Like the fire before, she wants to undo what she couldn't do and it consumes her. She wants to make sure everyone she knows is safe, as if it is a sin to repent, as if she takes on the burden of her family's death too much. Alice is still having a hard time accepting this.

But when it's over and Alice is left to clean herself up, and everyone safe, that empty feeling remains. This hollow feeling eating away that she has done nothing to change it. It's maddening; the blood reminds her of her scars from the burns, how she cut herself climbing down the window to escape. From the blood and the burns, she can still hear them screaming as they burned alive.

And Alice is that same little girl, there, witnessing it all over. She's not there mentally. It leaves her taking a fist to her head and hitting herself as if it knocks it out of her head. She hears the knock from him, of course, and on instinct, Alice withdraws the vorpal blade, shaking in her hands. She's had enough of it, this hollow feeling and guilt. The emptiness of it not going away, as the embers of the memory die out in her head as the house burns to the ground.

Alice is breathing heavier, shaking, looking at him through her green eyes that seem hollow. His face registers with her - Malik, the shop owner, the one she found very intimidating upon arrival. It startles her so much, Alice drops to her feet apologetically that she withdrew her knife on him, letting her hair cover her face as she tries to calm down.]

When we're rotting away in the earth.

So I know. I've been wounded dozen of times before, and I only count one of those as a real battle.

...! That can't be!

No, just about the only thing is talk big and think delusional thoughts. When it comes down to it, you're nothing more than a coward with no sense of direction.

Then what would it be?

No sense of direction, certainly. Even I can admit to that. But a coward, miss? Not once in my life.

Then what are you doing?

Having a conversation with you, of course. Cowardice don't factor into it.

All you do is talk.

Perhaps I'm waiting for the opportune moment.

For what? Permission?

I do not need permission.

Then what is your excuse?

The opportune moment hasn't arrived yet, clearly.

[She's not herself. Or, that's the term he'd like to use. Perhaps, she's as much herself like this as she is at other times. Naturally, he frowns as she draws the blade, one foot shifting back just on instinct and muscle memory. But it's not right - her face, it's like she's barely there, like she barely recognizes him at all.

The tension that naturally built up in him leaves him as she drops the knife. Yet the frown remains. He doesn't venture closer.]

Alice?

[It would seem foolish to ask her if she's alright. The answer is already obvious.]

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