[we're in whoville... where wis'adel is underdressed for the weather. this is a short shorts over tights with a tanktop and jacket situation, though she at least has boots...
anyway, she's vibing, contemplating grabbing a drink, but.]
[ me realising that the champagne means this is an evening thread which means this is post-goosening
anyway. fidelio is tailless and has horns instead of cat ears on his head today (and presumably has non-cat ears under his hair somewhere). he's already got a flute of champagne in hand, and is looking... slightly past wis'adel's shoulder, actually, with his eyes slightly narrowed, though her question pulls him out of it.
he blinks. ]
What?
[ ...shakes his head. ]
Nothin', sorry. Just thought I saw somethin' behind you.
[ his own tail is flicking in frustration behind him. ]
That's what pisses me off the most about it. Even knowin' it's coming, tryin' to make preparations and find any way to prevent it, none of it does a damn thing.
At least in their annoying morality question scenarios you have some sort of agency.
Really just feels like punishment rather than anything for us to learn from or overcome. Could've just tossed us into hell in the first place and saved us from jumpin' through the hoops.
I mean, I'd assume nothin's stoppin' you from bein' awful again after you get revived. If you had somethin' important to get back to you could just suck it up for a few weeks and play along, if you believed 'em.
One of the nightlights described it once as, like, experimental shit. Having controls and whatever. So-- people they already pretty much know about, and then everybody else.
[put taair in heaven already goddamn.]
Doesn't make much sense to do it that way to me, but I'm not god.
anyway here they are in the FUNHOUSE where nothing is fun, and the mirrors give them: this first. scroll down to 'can you put a price on the life of a merc', skip over the little bit with just hoederer, and then hit the next page for the second part.]
[ funny enough, as often as fidelio's thinking seems to line up with wiš'adel's here, in this memory it's that kid rublev who he sees the most of himself in. not that he ever would have doubted or hated basilio for a second, obviously, but... the insistence that he knows best, the automatic assumptions of the worst and inability to trust in anything — the general weakness of character. being saved by someone with a much purer heart and simpler motivations who was so much stronger in the ways that really mattered.
he's quiet for a few seconds afterward, then looks to her with a shrug. ]
Don't expect you're lookin' for any commentary from me.
[ assuming she's at the hospital??? he will check in since he's like, an honorary nurse at this point and was preoccupied with eupha earlier. also just going to bring over a glass of water even though she's probably been given 20 by now. ]
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w0 wednesday
Get anything decent?
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anyway. looks up at her on this box pile. ]
Sure. Furniture, bedding. Fireplace.
[ a bunch of stuff that's at least relatively practical (though hardly any of it is for his own room). ]
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You got one of those too? Nice. At least we're finally getting something good out of being stuck here!
w1, tuesday
anyway, she's vibing, contemplating grabbing a drink, but.]
What're you looking at?
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anyway. fidelio is tailless and has horns instead of cat ears on his head today (and presumably has non-cat ears under his hair somewhere). he's already got a flute of champagne in hand, and is looking... slightly past wis'adel's shoulder, actually, with his eyes slightly narrowed, though her question pulls him out of it.
he blinks. ]
What?
[ ...shakes his head. ]
Nothin', sorry. Just thought I saw somethin' behind you.
w1, sunday
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[she's just taking a seat nearby in the sand, legs crossed; her tail draws aimless lines on the beach as it swishes.]
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'Bout time. Been gettin' real tired of setting the bar on the ground and still bein' disappointed.
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[ shakes his head. ]
Whole thing's just fuckin' infuriating.
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[her tail carves a deeper line in the sand.]
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That's what pisses me off the most about it. Even knowin' it's coming, tryin' to make preparations and find any way to prevent it, none of it does a damn thing.
At least in their annoying morality question scenarios you have some sort of agency.
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[but the way it is, seemingly coerced-- it just sucks.]
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[ just what he should have expected from a church, honestly. ]
...How much truth you think there is to the whole redemption story anyway?
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[but she adds, with a shrug-]
Doesn't really matter to me, though.
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[redemption doesn't matter if you're aware you are simply not a good person.]
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What a waste of time, when you could just be doing what you want...
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But if you don't have that, then sure, fair enough.
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In line with the quality of judgement they've displayed with everything else.
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[put taair in heaven already goddamn.]
Doesn't make much sense to do it that way to me, but I'm not god.
w3 backdate
anyway here they are in the FUNHOUSE where nothing is fun, and the mirrors give them: this first. scroll down to 'can you put a price on the life of a merc', skip over the little bit with just hoederer, and then hit the next page for the second part.]
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he's quiet for a few seconds afterward, then looks to her with a shrug. ]
Don't expect you're lookin' for any commentary from me.
w5, thursday
Real shite luck you've got.
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[she would take the water, but... well. both arms are fucked up.]
Saber too...
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...Hang on, let me grab a straw.
[ does that quick and comes back. here, water with a straw. ]
But yeah, they really love stickin' the two of you together too, don't they?