[ soujuurou’s voice is weak as he looks between both sides, with jordi attacking celseste so mercilessly and the others retaliating with even more powerful attacks. he sees so many ugly aspects of human modernity inside this room. guns, spells— even his own fists, bruised and bloody, are nothing but ugly. the ugliness that he could only see from the window out, is now in front of his face for him to see.
having listened to jordi’s story with rapt attention, soujuurou feels his will to physically fight evaporate. it’s not the damage from the algae or the hunger, though the latter does make his wish all that more desperate. he shouldn’t want, he musn’t want and yet he does. he wants and wants and wants and that’s why he was considered flawed! he can’t help but want and what he wants now is— ]
Stop. FIGHTING!
[ for the naturally soft spoken soujuurou, yelling is not his strong suit. and yet he yells not only at jordi, but at everyone else in the room. maybe it’s foolish— he’s never been in one of these before, after all. but he can’t continue fighting. so he simply talks (20). ]
I don’t think you’re wrong. [ people are greedy, they are selfish, and they are self-interested to the point if it being detrimental to themselves. it’s what has terrified soujuurou the most since coming down to the city, and what keeps being proven over and over again to him in this place. ]
But you’re also a person, aren’t you? The last of your kind. [ he thinks of kumari’s story of the passenger pigeon, of poor little martha, the last of her kind, who died all alone in the cincinatti zoo. ] You’ll probably never find anyone like yourself anymore, Jordi. That’s probably why you wear your mom’s shirt— because otherwise you’re alone, whether its here or in some other place surrounded by strangers you don’t understand.
[ soujuurou understands, deep down, that maybe he’s just projecting his own insecurities. this may just serve to irritate jordi further. but he’s so sick of fighting.
he continues holding the bangle out to him, arm straight and steady. ]
But if you tell us more about yourself, then maybe we can come to understand you. I’m sorry if I’m concerning myself with the dead when you said not to, but that’s one of my bad habits. [ he laughs, soft yet full of self-derision and bitterness. it’s yet another blight on him, another imperfection. ah well. ] Take it— I think, as I am now, I’m nothing more than a wraith, so it should be fine to take from me, right?
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[ soujuurou’s voice is weak as he looks between both sides, with jordi attacking celseste so mercilessly and the others retaliating with even more powerful attacks. he sees so many ugly aspects of human modernity inside this room. guns, spells— even his own fists, bruised and bloody, are nothing but ugly. the ugliness that he could only see from the window out, is now in front of his face for him to see.
having listened to jordi’s story with rapt attention, soujuurou feels his will to physically fight evaporate. it’s not the damage from the algae or the hunger, though the latter does make his wish all that more desperate. he shouldn’t want, he musn’t want and yet he does. he wants and wants and wants and that’s why he was considered flawed! he can’t help but want and what he wants now is— ]
Stop. FIGHTING!
[ for the naturally soft spoken soujuurou, yelling is not his strong suit. and yet he yells not only at jordi, but at everyone else in the room. maybe it’s foolish— he’s never been in one of these before, after all. but he can’t continue fighting. so he simply talks (20). ]
I don’t think you’re wrong. [ people are greedy, they are selfish, and they are self-interested to the point if it being detrimental to themselves. it’s what has terrified soujuurou the most since coming down to the city, and what keeps being proven over and over again to him in this place. ]
But you’re also a person, aren’t you? The last of your kind. [ he thinks of kumari’s story of the passenger pigeon, of poor little martha, the last of her kind, who died all alone in the cincinatti zoo. ] You’ll probably never find anyone like yourself anymore, Jordi. That’s probably why you wear your mom’s shirt— because otherwise you’re alone, whether its here or in some other place surrounded by strangers you don’t understand.
[ soujuurou understands, deep down, that maybe he’s just projecting his own insecurities. this may just serve to irritate jordi further. but he’s so sick of fighting.
he continues holding the bangle out to him, arm straight and steady. ]
But if you tell us more about yourself, then maybe we can come to understand you. I’m sorry if I’m concerning myself with the dead when you said not to, but that’s one of my bad habits. [ he laughs, soft yet full of self-derision and bitterness. it’s yet another blight on him, another imperfection. ah well. ] Take it— I think, as I am now, I’m nothing more than a wraith, so it should be fine to take from me, right?