here by my side, you are destruction...
I'm in a ficcing sort of mood... And I have a yen to play with WK canon. Therefore, this:
(also posted to wk_fiction)
“Do you think it’s true?”
Nagi’s voice breaks the silence of Crawford’s brooding. He can’t say that the question surprises him.
He doesn’t turn away from what he is doing to look at the telekinetic, not yet. “Is what true?”
Nagi takes the reply as encouragement, moving further into the room to settle on the very edge of Crawford’s bed. “Farfarello… That Farfarello really does love Sally.”
Crawford glances down from the blank screen of his computer, letting his gaze lose focus on the repetitive wood grain of his desk, measuring an answer. What he says at last is cold, honest. “No.”
“Why not?” It isn’t a demand - Nagi truly wants only an explanation.
The precog turns in his seat, fixing the youngest member of his team with a level stare. “Because Farfarello moves between the opposite extremes of sin and repentance. There is no room for love in that sort of black and white existence.”
Nagi takes this in, turns it over and over, considering it. “And you don’t think meeting her might have changed him?”
“No.” Crawford’s answer hedges nothing. He sees no reason to sugar-coat - if Nagi chooses to believe in the supremacy of love, that is his own failing, and one to which Crawford refuses to contribute. “People don’t change so quickly.”
“I see.” Tone and expression both guardedly blank - Nagi might be disappointed, or he might not. Impossible to tell.
Crawford sighs, relents a little. “It would be a comforting thing to think. That even we monsters are deserving of happiness. But we choose our own hell, Nagi, and very seldom have we the wherewithal to break free of it. Sally is either Farfarello’s sin or she is his punishment. And I doubt she will long survive either of those possibilities.”
“Then why did you let her go with him? Why did you let him leave?” Again, there is no accusation to the questions. Nagi’s midnight blue gaze is as calm as glacier ice.
“Free will.” One shoulder rises and falls in an eloquent shrug. “I did not spend so long scheming to free us from Essett’s grasp to become the master myself. You are all free to stay or go as you please.”
The telekinetic mulls that over with a noncommittal sound, and Crawford is certain then that he will lose Nagi, sooner than he is ready to. But he will no more stop Prodigy from going than he did Berserker - though admittedly, it will be a more painful loss.
Nagi leaves the room on cat feet, silent and thoughtful, returning to his own territory to devote more thought to Crawford’s words - and to what decisions he will make for his own future.
Crawford stares down at his hand, palm flat on the desktop’s polished wood, not seeing it. He believes love to be an illusion, but that does not mean that he doesn’t wish it might be otherwise, foolish as such dreams are.
Silvia spoke the word as well… Was it a last ditch effort at saving her own life, or did she think it was the truth? “Silvia, Silvia…” he says aloud, speaking to her ghost. “Did you spend the last five years convinced that I loved you? That we would one day reunite? It seems such a waste…” He chuckles, the sound muted, humourless. “I would have expected better of you.”
And what does he feel, he wonders, tilting back his chair and turning his tawny gaze to the ceiling, hands folded in his lap. Having put a bullet in the head of a woman who claimed to love him, what does he feel? His computer whirs softly, an unassuming soundtrack to his thoughts.
Nothing, he decides at last. I feel nothing.
Love is for those lucky enough to remain fools. For men like Oracle, it is a luxury not to be afforded. Nodding to himself - the conclusion hardly surprises him - he rises, padding from the room nearly as soundlessly as Nagi had, leaving the weight of his musings behind him.
(also posted to wk_fiction)
“Do you think it’s true?”
Nagi’s voice breaks the silence of Crawford’s brooding. He can’t say that the question surprises him.
He doesn’t turn away from what he is doing to look at the telekinetic, not yet. “Is what true?”
Nagi takes the reply as encouragement, moving further into the room to settle on the very edge of Crawford’s bed. “Farfarello… That Farfarello really does love Sally.”
Crawford glances down from the blank screen of his computer, letting his gaze lose focus on the repetitive wood grain of his desk, measuring an answer. What he says at last is cold, honest. “No.”
“Why not?” It isn’t a demand - Nagi truly wants only an explanation.
The precog turns in his seat, fixing the youngest member of his team with a level stare. “Because Farfarello moves between the opposite extremes of sin and repentance. There is no room for love in that sort of black and white existence.”
Nagi takes this in, turns it over and over, considering it. “And you don’t think meeting her might have changed him?”
“No.” Crawford’s answer hedges nothing. He sees no reason to sugar-coat - if Nagi chooses to believe in the supremacy of love, that is his own failing, and one to which Crawford refuses to contribute. “People don’t change so quickly.”
“I see.” Tone and expression both guardedly blank - Nagi might be disappointed, or he might not. Impossible to tell.
Crawford sighs, relents a little. “It would be a comforting thing to think. That even we monsters are deserving of happiness. But we choose our own hell, Nagi, and very seldom have we the wherewithal to break free of it. Sally is either Farfarello’s sin or she is his punishment. And I doubt she will long survive either of those possibilities.”
“Then why did you let her go with him? Why did you let him leave?” Again, there is no accusation to the questions. Nagi’s midnight blue gaze is as calm as glacier ice.
“Free will.” One shoulder rises and falls in an eloquent shrug. “I did not spend so long scheming to free us from Essett’s grasp to become the master myself. You are all free to stay or go as you please.”
The telekinetic mulls that over with a noncommittal sound, and Crawford is certain then that he will lose Nagi, sooner than he is ready to. But he will no more stop Prodigy from going than he did Berserker - though admittedly, it will be a more painful loss.
Nagi leaves the room on cat feet, silent and thoughtful, returning to his own territory to devote more thought to Crawford’s words - and to what decisions he will make for his own future.
Crawford stares down at his hand, palm flat on the desktop’s polished wood, not seeing it. He believes love to be an illusion, but that does not mean that he doesn’t wish it might be otherwise, foolish as such dreams are.
Silvia spoke the word as well… Was it a last ditch effort at saving her own life, or did she think it was the truth? “Silvia, Silvia…” he says aloud, speaking to her ghost. “Did you spend the last five years convinced that I loved you? That we would one day reunite? It seems such a waste…” He chuckles, the sound muted, humourless. “I would have expected better of you.”
And what does he feel, he wonders, tilting back his chair and turning his tawny gaze to the ceiling, hands folded in his lap. Having put a bullet in the head of a woman who claimed to love him, what does he feel? His computer whirs softly, an unassuming soundtrack to his thoughts.
Nothing, he decides at last. I feel nothing.
Love is for those lucky enough to remain fools. For men like Oracle, it is a luxury not to be afforded. Nodding to himself - the conclusion hardly surprises him - he rises, padding from the room nearly as soundlessly as Nagi had, leaving the weight of his musings behind him.