[ Don Quixote can be found hunched over in the corner of the graveyard, hands in her hair as she mutters to herself. She seems to be restored at least and is no longer barefoot]
[ Dainsleif is no longer the type of individual to get involved in private matters...whatever they are - but, well, can anyone say that this is a isolated concern?
It's a relief to see that he has caught up, as well she isn't in the kind of appearance she was last time he had caught a glimpse of her.
Anyway, Dainsleif clears his throat. He is terribly out of practice for this, but... ]
...Can you hear me?
[ Sure, standard procedure is to ask about one's state of mind, but might as well see how far in her head she is - understandably, perhaps - after all that. ]
[ It is, ensuring that they don't fade away into a void of ignorance; regardless, he sees she can still answer. That is good - but, a mere beginning. ]
Indeed I have.
[ He remembers the first sight, gorey as it was - the screaming, nightmarish the sound was, until it consumed him momentarily as well. The accursed voices' clarion call, like a curse - like the whispers of the Abyss. Near the end, that wretched "song"...a mockery, at its finest. And the woman's crazed actions - now Father, but previously mentioned 'Mother'. Keeping this in mind, remembering the first, he carefully goes down a tentative list of questioning... ]
Are you still in pain? Bear in mind I ask this in regards not just to your physical state, but if something is still persistently causing agony at the edges or forefront of your subconscious. Like when you tried to take off the ring.
[ The horrors persist, but the don of masks may not be always so necessary - he finds it reasonable she is not so lively, so bright.
He does not know Don well, yet it is without doubt he recalls the moments before her fall into that unfortunate position which had awashed its consequences upon the populace like a curse. But, all the same... ]
I'm unfamiliar with Rocinante. I'm certain that it is a name that means something important to you.
[ Then, another pause. And, surprisingly, he does not look upon with a slither of judgment even if he considers himself worthy of dispensing such. ]
Regrets, perhaps. But, though it may be hard to hear...I'm not willing to assign you blame. I have to confess that I was thinking of doing the very same - taking off the ring from a finger. I wish things hadn't happened that way, even shedding some elements of your past, it seems, but...if it weren't you, then it would have been someone else.
Fear not, for Rocinante is still by my side. Not in its usual form...but by my side. [The lack of judgement stuns her into silence, her speech faltering as she looks on in surprise]
...'tis a surprise to see such a lack of judgement. I am thankful, yet...[an exhale. She can be a little more earnest here. This is no place for her farcical behaviour, designed to add colour to everyone's lives] I...hurt so many people from something I wanted to keep them safe from, for I admit, I did not believe in this 'God'.
I don't doubt that there will be those who judge you. It's simply what it is. But, I see no reason to give it towards your person.
[ Dainsleif merely thinks that what he saw isn't the entirety of what she is, what Don Quixote wanted to be - to show them. He's seen people lose control before, and it be beyond their control...and even worse, turned into monsters. But in this, she did not choose that. Even if he understands the regret will not be shaken so easily. ]
...Truthfully, I don't believe in this 'God', either. Of course, we had information given to us about one individual from a point of view, which could have been skewed. But, so far, actions speak louder than words, about the type of existence this 'God' stands for.
And, those who have eyes will see your actions for what they are. So it goes.
Thou speakest the truth. Speech can only carry so much, whereas actions...I must prove mineself. [A pause, and she looks up, frowning]
This 'god'...is merely a tyrant, a villain most foul. [It borrows deep into her, her resentment she did not know she was capable of, either as 'Don Quixote' or her former name] His reach is beyond here, beyond many words that I could not fathom existing.
[ Dainsleif hadn't thought to even properly pay respects...damn, he really has grown far too accustomed to people dropping dead.
Not that he liked what happened, because he didn't, and absolutely hated how appalling the killing method was. But, then again, everything was an adrenaline rush the last part of the trial...hmm. ]
That looks like a proper way of paying respects, from what I could tell.
[ He reminds himself to grab some alcohol and do the very same. ]
Thou believe so? [Some kind of tension unwinds in Don Quixote] I am glad there is some commonality between the worlds like this. Still, if it were truly right...his body would ne'r been desecrated so.
...But, some thoughtful actions even after everything has happened makes all the more difference. I'm sure if he knew his killer was caught and people were taking the time to pay respects, even he would feel some manner of satisfaction.
[ Dainsleif knows of the ley lines and spirits existing, so he figures...there's a chance, or something like that.
Though, honestly, due to the way this place is, he worries about even that. Honestly, one of these days he is not going to be so paranoid or dour about something...but, this is something of a potential hope spot, at least. ]
Yes, something like that. Where I come from, the dead aren't always too far away from the living. But, how they are able to interact or feel what has been done in their honor or other such aspects can depend on the situation.
However, hoping for the best [ while expecting the worst, maybe ] in this case is practical.
[ Despite such a clearly logically inclined response at its end, after that, Dainsleif moves to rest his right hand over his chest, fingers curling into a fist, as a silent gesture of respect for the one who passed in lieu of the alcohol at this time. ]
I see. In my world, if one were a Bloodfiend like myself, or wealthy enough, if one's brain was still intact, revival was still possible after a brief amount of time. So thinking of the afterlife...was not within our means.
[ She looks on ruefully, bowing her head in turn]
How many people did he leave behind? Will a message go to them?
[ Dainsleif will see her staring a rabbit, her expression blank, despite feeding it some hay. She looks over when Dainsleif approaches.
She tries to smile. Fails. Tries to remember how she wants to be. She can't. All that she can feel now is hollowed out and empty and there is no room left for heroes in her heart right now]
... Dainsleif. What brings th- [a tired exhale, she gives up] --you here?
My mind? [She startles and looks down at the rabbit, frowning] There is too much to consider. I was hoping to empty it out so I could...be myself once more. Yet, my mind lingers on Annette. There was no justice to be found in any of this.
No...Annette did not deserve what happened to her.
[ Dainsleif closes his eyes, letting out a sigh, before reopening them. ]
Then, there was everything that followed in the wake of her death. It'd make anyone who'd consider thinking that there was any justice hesitate to think of the thought.
That's why if your mind lingers on the subject, I can't blame you.
...Indeed. My mind lingers on the fact I had been so close to her death, yet, for some godforsaken reason, could not rouse myself from sleep. She must have called for help, was desperate for aid and yet...
[She feels hollow]
I was beginning to feel that both her and Noelle could be friends of mine, if time allowed.
It is not your fault. Even if you know it logically, I'll say it once again - hearing someone assert much outside of your own head can make it feel less overt...even if the thought will still remain.
[ Dainsleif speaks from experience - the place being how it is means that even their efforts would have halted. In addition, he knows the feeling...Annette had been sleeping in the very room he and the others were in. ]
...'If time allowed' indeed.
I have a feeling that they would at least appreciate the sentiment, if they could hear you say that.
Verily? [She exhales slowly, and sets down the rabbit. Time to let it go. It is not the first time she's failed to save someone, impossible as it may have been to keep Annette safe. But, she feels better somehow now]
'Tis a miserable world we hath found ourselves in. I am used to murders and violence and senseless actions by villains of the world. Yet, there is a heavy weight with every death that takes place here.
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post quixotegate
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It's a relief to see that he has caught up, as well she isn't in the kind of appearance she was last time he had caught a glimpse of her.
Anyway, Dainsleif clears his throat. He is terribly out of practice for this, but... ]
...Can you hear me?
[ Sure, standard procedure is to ask about one's state of mind, but might as well see how far in her head she is - understandably, perhaps - after all that. ]
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"Father... I'm sorry. Once again I have failed our dream. I must do better. I can't--"
All flourishes to her usual manner of speech gone, until Dainsleif's voice pulls her out of her reverie]
Ah...h-hast thou called for me?
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Indeed I have.
[ He remembers the first sight, gorey as it was - the screaming, nightmarish the sound was, until it consumed him momentarily as well. The accursed voices' clarion call, like a curse - like the whispers of the Abyss. Near the end, that wretched "song"...a mockery, at its finest. And the woman's crazed actions - now Father, but previously mentioned 'Mother'. Keeping this in mind, remembering the first, he carefully goes down a tentative list of questioning... ]
Are you still in pain? Bear in mind I ask this in regards not just to your physical state, but if something is still persistently causing agony at the edges or forefront of your subconscious. Like when you tried to take off the ring.
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But she's tired. She thinks even Father wouldn't mind if she was a little less colourful in her language for once]
'Tis... under control. As long as I am with Rocinante, there is no pain. [ She lifts one foot up to show him. See? Good shoes.]
I am only full of regrets that my desire to assist everyone in uncovering the truth lead to their pain instead.
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He does not know Don well, yet it is without doubt he recalls the moments before her fall into that unfortunate position which had awashed its consequences upon the populace like a curse. But, all the same... ]
I'm unfamiliar with Rocinante. I'm certain that it is a name that means something important to you.
[ Then, another pause. And, surprisingly, he does not look upon with a slither of judgment even if he considers himself worthy of dispensing such. ]
Regrets, perhaps. But, though it may be hard to hear...I'm not willing to assign you blame. I have to confess that I was thinking of doing the very same - taking off the ring from a finger. I wish things hadn't happened that way, even shedding some elements of your past, it seems, but...if it weren't you, then it would have been someone else.
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...'tis a surprise to see such a lack of judgement. I am thankful, yet...[an exhale. She can be a little more earnest here. This is no place for her farcical behaviour, designed to add colour to everyone's lives] I...hurt so many people from something I wanted to keep them safe from, for I admit, I did not believe in this 'God'.
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I don't doubt that there will be those who judge you. It's simply what it is. But, I see no reason to give it towards your person.
[ Dainsleif merely thinks that what he saw isn't the entirety of what she is, what Don Quixote wanted to be - to show them. He's seen people lose control before, and it be beyond their control...and even worse, turned into monsters. But in this, she did not choose that. Even if he understands the regret will not be shaken so easily. ]
...Truthfully, I don't believe in this 'God', either. Of course, we had information given to us about one individual from a point of view, which could have been skewed. But, so far, actions speak louder than words, about the type of existence this 'God' stands for.
And, those who have eyes will see your actions for what they are. So it goes.
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This 'god'...is merely a tyrant, a villain most foul. [It borrows deep into her, her resentment she did not know she was capable of, either as 'Don Quixote' or her former name] His reach is beyond here, beyond many words that I could not fathom existing.
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week 1, post-trial
Dainsleif ends up wondering here at some point in time - he is restless following the climax of the trial, and before he realizes it, he is here.
What is Don Quixote up to upon his arrival...? ]
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...tis a shame I could not pay my respects properly, Young Lavi.
[She's very distracted and doesn't notice his approach at all]
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Not that he liked what happened, because he didn't, and absolutely hated how appalling the killing method was. But, then again, everything was an adrenaline rush the last part of the trial...hmm. ]
That looks like a proper way of paying respects, from what I could tell.
[ He reminds himself to grab some alcohol and do the very same. ]
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As for the other matter... ]
Unfortunately, that is the case.
...But, some thoughtful actions even after everything has happened makes all the more difference. I'm sure if he knew his killer was caught and people were taking the time to pay respects, even he would feel some manner of satisfaction.
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[Funny, she never once paid much mind to it before. But now, in this strange world, she feels she must need it]
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Though, honestly, due to the way this place is, he worries about even that. Honestly, one of these days he is not going to be so paranoid or dour about something...but, this is something of a potential hope spot, at least. ]
Yes, something like that. Where I come from, the dead aren't always too far away from the living. But, how they are able to interact or feel what has been done in their honor or other such aspects can depend on the situation.
However, hoping for the best [ while expecting the worst, maybe ] in this case is practical.
[ Despite such a clearly logically inclined response at its end, after that, Dainsleif moves to rest his right hand over his chest, fingers curling into a fist, as a silent gesture of respect for the one who passed in lieu of the alcohol at this time. ]
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[ She looks on ruefully, bowing her head in turn]
How many people did he leave behind? Will a message go to them?
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week 2, post-exe
He's quiet, enough for his presence to be understated.
His eyes fall then upon their surroundings, and then he looks around - and... should his gaze fall upon Don, what will he find her up to? ]
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She tries to smile. Fails. Tries to remember how she wants to be. She can't. All that she can feel now is hollowed out and empty and there is no room left for heroes in her heart right now]
... Dainsleif. What brings th- [a tired exhale, she gives up] --you here?
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After everything that has happened, I feel it is unwise to linger in one spot necessarily...
[ Dainsleif looks at the rabbit, before back at her, holding such an expression on her face. He then crosses his arms. Abruptly, he asks: ]
...What is on your mind?
[ Noelle's words at the end of trial? Annette's death? The climax of the execution? The situation? ]
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[ Dainsleif closes his eyes, letting out a sigh, before reopening them. ]
Then, there was everything that followed in the wake of her death. It'd make anyone who'd consider thinking that there was any justice hesitate to think of the thought.
That's why if your mind lingers on the subject, I can't blame you.
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[She feels hollow]
I was beginning to feel that both her and Noelle could be friends of mine, if time allowed.
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[ Dainsleif speaks from experience - the place being how it is means that even their efforts would have halted. In addition, he knows the feeling...Annette had been sleeping in the very room he and the others were in. ]
...'If time allowed' indeed.
I have a feeling that they would at least appreciate the sentiment, if they could hear you say that.
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'Tis a miserable world we hath found ourselves in. I am used to murders and violence and senseless actions by villains of the world. Yet, there is a heavy weight with every death that takes place here.
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