Kyriakos: DAY 86

[takewing]

[Suddenly, the books on several of the shelves spring to life--they flutter around the room and open above those present. As they do a magic circle springs out of their pages, enveloping the players in a beam of light and making them vanish into their pages--two to a book. Inside is a featureless room with an indestructible paper-like substance lining floor, walls and ceiling, inlaid with an intricate pattern of metallic roses. My, what long thorns they have …

On the floor somewhere nearby is an incredibly sharp quill and a bottle of an inklike substance--which is clearly labelled as ‘Not intended for ingestion unless you wish to die painfully, you twit.’]

((HERE))

Comments

[takewing]

Ha. Ha.

[Giving those thorny patterns an utterly contemptuous look.]

If you think that I'm killing somebody for you, Echoes, I pray that you choke on your disappointment.

[unlocksmith]

[a-ah. . .]

[frowning very deeply, before he swiftly approaches the walls and runs his hands across them, looking for weaknesses]

[takewing]

… Be careful near those roses.

[unlocksmith]

[runs his hands over one]

They're harmless for now.

[making sure to inspect eeeeevery inch of wall. he even tries to dig his fingertips underneath the metallic rose patterns, to no avail]

. . . and you wouldn't be killin' anyone. Nyssa is savin' that honor for herself.

[takewing]

I'm thinking more of the numbers than of the act itself. The numbers, the people those numbers represent.

[Muttering that half to herself as she moves to examine the ink and quill.]

"Not intended for ingestion unless you wish to die painfully, you twit." How kind of them to warn us.

[unlocksmith]

It still ain't on you.

[saying that a bit more firmly, and he lets out a frustrated grump as he pushes away from the wall]

[he glances over at her, eyeing the quill and ink well]

[he rolls his eyes]

I s'pose we should be thankin' them for the message.

[takewing]

If the method of delivery is a punch to the face, then yes, we certainly should 'thank' them.

[Picking up the quill, gently running her finger across the sharp edge.]

… and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to disagree with you there, if only partially.

[unlocksmith]

[he scoffs, and watches as she runs her hand across the edges of the quill knife]

. . . figured you would.

But would you really cast blame on the pairs that do survive so quickly?

[takewing]

Not at all.

[Hmm. Takes the bottle of ink and opens it, quill still in her other hand.]

That isn't my issue. We all have the right to live, and the right to fight for our lives as we see fit. Equal right, I should add, in case you're on the verge of misunderstanding me.

[unlocksmith]

No. . . I'm not.

[wandering over, reaching out to pluck the quill from her fingers so he can examine it as well]

If you don't blame them, then why blame yourself?

[takewing]

[She makes a mildly irritable noise when he takes it, but doesn't try to grab it back just yet.]

It's … ahh, somewhat difficult to put into words. At least a quarter of the people present are going to die, yes? Likely more, taking into account those pairs who refuse to make a choice. Next, I consider the simple fact that I … hm … well.

It's the same as Nyssa's last "game," in the end. Nobody wants to die, but some would take walking away alive better than others. … and then, third but by no means last or least, there's this: Wren. Nightingale. Sparrow. Rosella. Crane. Rook. Sirocco. Belt. Leo. Technic.

Lastly, and most importantly—to me, at any rate—is my utter lack of desire to bow to Nyssa's whims. My life is my own, to live or to give as I see fit, and she has absolutely no right to demand that I pay for it.

[unlocksmith]

[testing the balance of the quill blade in his hand, to see how well he can wield it]

. . . all of those are reasons given to argue for not playin' at all.

None of them seem like reasons you should blame yourself for people dyin' in this game.

[takewing]

If I make any attempt to survive this game, it will be for you, Spark. Just you.

But my heart wouldn't be in it. [She speaks softly and earnestly, fingers clenching tight around the bottle of ink.] My heart would be with our friends and teammates who are trying desperately to survive. If I lived, while they died … yes, I would blame myself.

[unlocksmith]

For what?

[lowering the quill knife to his side, and addressing her completely]

For. . . survivin' when others died? Or for what you view as being complicit with their murders?

[no accusatory, merely an attempt to understand. the question is genuine]

[takewing]

…

[Sighs, capping the bottle, and turns to face him.]

If I tried to survive this, I'd be walking down a path that I don't truly believe in. Out of … love for you. [Tilts her chin up, meeting his gaze firmly.] And I do love you, Spark. You are home to me.

… but I don't have it in me to be that selfless. I'd regret living while my friends died; knowing that most of them are far more scared to die than I am; knowing that while I spared you some suffering in this game, I had to give in to Nyssa to do it. Knowing that one choice to abstain could mean life for somebody else …

[unlocksmith]

. . .

[his grip tightens on the knife, knuckles practically turning white]

. . . I am not selfless enough to let you die.

[takewing]

I'd come back.

… my answer would the same with or without revivals. [Revivals don't make death okay, after all.] But I will come back from this.

[unlocksmith]

[the sure don't, and his gaze narrows at her. briefly]

I am not selfless enough to let you go through with this. Revivals or not.

I can't, Bl--. . . Nalea. I can't.

[takewing]

[Tenses briefly at the use of her name, flicking a glance at the rose patterns on the wall.]

I can't not. I know myself well enough to say that I will never forgive myself if I walk out of here and find any one of my friends dead. And Nyssa—[her lip curls.] Nyssa. The idea of giving her the satisfaction makes my skin crawl.

[unlocksmith]

[suddenly gripping at her wrist-- firmly, but not so tightly it hurts]

And I will never forgive myself if you don't walk out of here alive!

[takewing]

[tense tense tense under his grip, but she slips the bottle into her pocket and grabs his hand.]

[she says nothing for now, chewing over desperate arguments and counters and, gods damnit, they can't both get what they want—]

[unlocksmith]

[he's about as tense as she is, his teeth gritted together tightly]

You are-- you are a good person. . . I don't understand it, but I admire it, because I cannot be even one-tenth of the person you are.

But how many times. . . how many times will I have to watch you die while we're here? How many times will I have to hold your cold hand as your life painfully returns?

How many times will I stand helplessly by as you die for your beliefs?

[takewing]

[she was afraid it might come to this.]

… There is no way for me to answer that without hurting both of us.

[her voice and expression are absolutely neutral, but there's something raw, something painful flickering in her eyes.]

Do I give up who I am for you? Do I force you to suffer for me? I'd rather do neither.

DECISION

[unlocksmith]

[Spark and Bluebird are not choosing a person to die. HOWEVER. . .]

[Spark is offering up his ability to hunt! This is a 10 in difficulty for him, as his ability to hunt is directly tied to his ability to fight, defend himself, and connect with his culture. HUNTING IN VULPECULA IS SO IMPORTANT so taking that away from him will be a huge blow]

[Nalea is giving up her eyes! This is a 6 for her, or so say the words of Re]

[infiniteregress]

[Congratulations! Your offering was ACCEPTED.]

[The words “Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.” appear on the ground before you in glowing green, bursting into a magic circle which engulfs you both in light. Whatever you chose to sacrifice is gone (unless you stipulated that you would do it yourself, in which case the necessary implements will appear before you), and if it was a body part the circle isn’t kind enough to make it painless, even if it does make sure you don’t bleed out.]

[Once it’s done, a glowing portal appears before you, letting you finally leave the book.]