I think you should try. I made sure to ask first, before I rang the bell on the fifth floor.
[another pause]
Blue told me how to stop the house. Not directly, but. . . they said if we can find the "source" for the house and everything that it does, then we can put an end to this.
[he closes his eyes and echoes what Blue told him]
"Access to the source is available for those who seek it out."
"The source is much closer than you may think."
"The heart of the matter is what's most important."
There's a significant pause. But she'll eventually nod, glancing towards the door as though she needs to make sure no one else is around.]
...
Reito didn't find me like that on Tuesday.
I intentionally went looking for him after lunch. I... I had wanted to see if I could speak with him, to convince him that his thinking wouldn't save anyone.
But he was, um... very set on what he thought he had to do. So I...
I gave him an option. I brought a scalpel with me, and I... I asked him to turn it on me.
[Akira feels something inside his chest tighten, ice suddenly coursing through his veins. his fingers still against her hand, eyes growing wide, expression slack and mouth falling open]
What?
[he had surmised that Ayabe had attacked her, but. . .]
Luna-- what?! Why would you. . .
[he had no idea that Luna had asked him to do so in the first place]
...I have directives, Akira. I... couldn't just walk out of the room knowing that Reito could murder another person.
But... he refused. He said that he wouldn't take the life of someone he cared about. That, even if I had to suffer.... he had to keep me alive, so I could be here for the ones he didn't take.
And I...
...
Akira... do you remember when you knocked over the machine in the theatre? You... you said something about anger.
[boy he does not like where this is going. the rage he felt when he upended the popcorn machine had been so strong, so overwhelming. he thinks back to Luna shattering that glass back during their second week here, and his jaw tightens]
I... I was so angry when he told me he was going to kill others and just... just leave me behind for selfish reasons... I couldn't think. All I knew was that I had to do something.
...
A robot must protect its own existence... except when such action would conflict with the First or Second Law. To bear witness to someone willing to take a life, openly so, and to do nothing to sucessfully intervene... that is a conflict of the First Law.
I had brought the scalpel specifically in hopes that, if he would attack me, he would be able to... to get it out of his system without doing any real damage. I... just turned it on myself.
He said I mattered too much. So I...
I mutilated myself to force him to change his mind.
[so he had been. . . completely wrong about what had happened. he had made some assumptions, and not followed up with Ayabe on them at all, hoping that Ayabe would try to work things out with Luna after the fact. but now that Luna remembered--]
[. . .]
[his grip on her hand tightens, and he feels it beginning to bubble to the surface of his own stomach. something heated and unpleasant and angry, and he isn't-- he isn't sure where to direct it. at her, for doing something so stupid? . . . at the woman who programmed her to follow those stupid directives in the first place?]
[at this mansion, for making their anger worse. . .?]
[he swallows thickly, and doesn't let go of her hand]
. . . how much of it was you, and how much of it was the laws you were programmed with?
[the moment she answers is the moment he realizes how unfair of a question it was. and perhaps he is just now realizing how intrinsically linked Luna's programming and herself are, and that. . . that fact helps him direct his anger. it moves away from her and towards the old woman he remembered from Luna's memories, though it still remains, simmering in his gut, unpleasantly heavy]
[he still doesn't let go of her hand]
I--
[he cuts himself off, struggling to find his next words. and throughout it all, he still doesn't let go of her hand]
I. . . don't. . .
[mrrrrrgh]
[the whole situation is unfair. Luna hurting herself in front of Ayabe, scarring him and traumatizing him to prevent him from hurting others. the laws with which she was programmed and the way the house amplified her anger, causing her to lash out in such an extreme manner in the first place]
[. . .]
[his voice is very, very quiet when he next speaks]
. . . I don't want anything to happen to you, either.
She'll reach out with her good hand, hesitantly placing it on top of his own desperate grasp.]
I know. I'm sorry. I... I don't want anything to happen to me, either.
But, if I have no option other than to choose between myself and a human... there is nothing more important to me, more important than me, than a human life.
[it's tough to say what he's so emphatically denying. that someone else's human life is more important than hers, or that he would ever come to resent her for any reason at all. even now, what he's feeling isn't resentment. it's. . .]
[. . .]
[is he. . . afraid?]
[his gaze snaps up, eyes flashing. not with anger, but with-- something else]
Don't say that. That's not true. It's never been true!
[his voice is rising slightly, strained with desperation]
Your life is just as important as anyone else's here! And if it's selfish of me to want you to choose yourself so nothing bad happens to you, then--
[then. . .?]
Then I'm just as selfish as Ayabe, and I'm not ashamed of it!
There's something painfully familiar in his insistence, in the anger and fear, the way his eyes burn with an emotion she can't quite place, the way he clutches her hand like he expects her to vanish.
She knows, knows without a doubt, that she has to follow her convictions. That she would gladly give herself to save anyone and everyone left who walked and breathed, no matter how much the fear of death might make her hesitate.
But now, it's like she's back in the garden. Back with Sigma, holding her tight on the bench as she waited for death, pleading with her that it wasn't her fault, that she deserved to be alive... There's a tightness in her chest, a strange warmth in her throat, one that she'd only felt with one other person. She's... touched? No, no, this is... different.
She opens her mouth, closes, her breathing suddenly shallow as though something heavy had been placed on her chest. While her words fail her, the colors against her mask betray the sudden chaos in her mind; of dark blue, of green, of so much yellow... and, slowly, of a soft shade of pink.
She's frozen, her eyes softening, torn by the agony on his face but almost unsure of what to do, what to say. Her words sit in her throat, thick and heavy.]
A...Akira, I...
[Her eyes flicker down. The shade of pink brightens.]
[he's noticed, throughout the week, the colors of her mask changing, though he has yet to ascribe any rhyme nor reason to it. and even now, as her mask blossoms into a bright, brilliant shade of pink, he's more focused on her. on what's underneath the mask]
[without thinking, he finally releases her hand, but that's only so he can frame her cheeks with his palms. so he can surge forward to press his forehead against hers, ignoring the way both of their masks get in the way, two cumbersome blockades that prevent him from really being able to show her what he means]
[. . . for the first time since the week began, he wishes his mask would disappear]
Of course I mean it.
[he isn't the type of person to say things so strongly without meaning them]
I know you want to help people, and that's. . . that's admirable. You're admirable. But I don't--
[and here he stops, a hitch in his words, because he can't think of a better way to say it then. . .]
I don't. . . want anything to happen to you.
[he's quiet again, and although he doesn't say it, the subtext of his words is clear: if anything did happen to you, I don't know what I'd do]
Her head feels hot, like she could simultaneously float through the celing and sink through the floor. Though the color behind her face is subtle, there's a noticeable rush of heat as she strains to process. No one, not even Sigma, has ever been this close to her, touched her like this, said things like this to her... not until the very end... and even then...
...what... what was this? Why did she both feel so overwhelmed, and yet... somehow, couldn't bear to have the moment stop?
Her eyes screw shut, if only to give herself a moment to lean into the warm touch of his hands, to lift her own fingers with a trembling touch against his wrist. What... what does she do? What is she supposed to say?]
I...
I don't want to see you suffer. You're...
You're one of the kindest people I've ever met... and even now, when you should be upset, you... you still...
...
[Her fingers curl against Akira's palm, her expression tightening, voice wavering.]
[seems to strike. . . something within him. something without a name. . . something that he's never really touched before this very moment. it's warm, though. it's warm, it's soothing, it's comforting, and his heart flutters against his ribs like a butterfly, each beat loud enough for him to hear in his ears. she reaches up to touch his wrist, her fingers against his skin suddenly burning hot, and he--]
[he doesn't flinch, but a part of him feels a jolt course through his wrist, through his arm, something that makes his breath suddenly catch in his throat]
[and he--]
[and he is suddenly acutely aware of how close she's standing, of how pressed into her personal space he is]
[he pulls back rather suddenly, fingers lifting from her cheeks, though he doesn't yet pull his hands away from her face. not because of her, but because of the heat that's suddenly rushing to his head and coloring what little skin can be seen from under his mask]
There's a flighty, breathless sound of confusion as his touch retreats, Luna blinking. Her hand hovers uselessly, unsure of whether he meant to back away entirely, watching him fluster and fumble for an apology...
...
The heat doesn't ease up in the slightest. But there's a fondness that settles over her eyes, slipping her hand away to instead lift to brush his bangs away from where the mask frames his eyes, tracing her touch to the side of his face, cautious and careful with the barest of gestures with curled fingers.
Her voice is nervous and quiet, but that fondness leaks through like warmth on a winter day.]
...I-It's okay... it's okay...
I... u-um...
...
[Ah. Trying to keep eye contact only makes her head swim. She bites at her lip, unsure of where to let her gaze rest, flustering herself even further before she just shuts her eyes again like that's going to somehow help, her face now noticeably warm to the touch.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'll see if I can talk to Peach. And... Blue, but... I don't know if they will let me.
no subject
I think you should try. I made sure to ask first, before I rang the bell on the fifth floor.
[another pause]
Blue told me how to stop the house. Not directly, but. . . they said if we can find the "source" for the house and everything that it does, then we can put an end to this.
[he closes his eyes and echoes what Blue told him]
"Access to the source is available for those who seek it out."
"The source is much closer than you may think."
"The heart of the matter is what's most important."
no subject
I... I wonder if they aren't allowed to say any more than that. If saying too much is why Peach got hurt...
I hope there's something we can do, and soon.
no subject
[for a moment. . . he looks sympathetic and thoughtful]
I guess even gods have "rules" they need to follow.
no subject
[...]
Um... Akira... can I ask you something...?
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Mmm. Of course. What is it?
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In Room 3, with Ken and Ayabe and Chuuya. [hhhhesitation, because-- Ayabe. but. . .] Would you like to join us?
no subject
I...
I shouldn't. I'm sorry.
I... really, really don't think Reito will react well to me being around.
no subject
[oh Luna]
[the flinch yanks at something in his chest painfully, and on instinct, Akira reaches out to her]
. . . will you tell me what happened?
no subject
There's a significant pause. But she'll eventually nod, glancing towards the door as though she needs to make sure no one else is around.]
...
Reito didn't find me like that on Tuesday.
I intentionally went looking for him after lunch. I... I had wanted to see if I could speak with him, to convince him that his thinking wouldn't save anyone.
But he was, um... very set on what he thought he had to do. So I...
I gave him an option. I brought a scalpel with me, and I... I asked him to turn it on me.
no subject
[Akira feels something inside his chest tighten, ice suddenly coursing through his veins. his fingers still against her hand, eyes growing wide, expression slack and mouth falling open]
What?
[he had surmised that Ayabe had attacked her, but. . .]
Luna-- what?! Why would you. . .
[he had no idea that Luna had asked him to do so in the first place]
no subject
But... he refused. He said that he wouldn't take the life of someone he cared about. That, even if I had to suffer.... he had to keep me alive, so I could be here for the ones he didn't take.
And I...
...
Akira... do you remember when you knocked over the machine in the theatre? You... you said something about anger.
no subject
I-- I do.
[boy he does not like where this is going. the rage he felt when he upended the popcorn machine had been so strong, so overwhelming. he thinks back to Luna shattering that glass back during their second week here, and his jaw tightens]
What happened. . .?
no subject
...
A robot must protect its own existence... except when such action would conflict with the First or Second Law. To bear witness to someone willing to take a life, openly so, and to do nothing to sucessfully intervene... that is a conflict of the First Law.
I had brought the scalpel specifically in hopes that, if he would attack me, he would be able to... to get it out of his system without doing any real damage. I... just turned it on myself.
He said I mattered too much. So I...
I mutilated myself to force him to change his mind.
no subject
[so he had been. . . completely wrong about what had happened. he had made some assumptions, and not followed up with Ayabe on them at all, hoping that Ayabe would try to work things out with Luna after the fact. but now that Luna remembered--]
[. . .]
[his grip on her hand tightens, and he feels it beginning to bubble to the surface of his own stomach. something heated and unpleasant and angry, and he isn't-- he isn't sure where to direct it. at her, for doing something so stupid? . . . at the woman who programmed her to follow those stupid directives in the first place?]
[at this mansion, for making their anger worse. . .?]
[he swallows thickly, and doesn't let go of her hand]
. . . how much of it was you, and how much of it was the laws you were programmed with?
no subject
...
I don't know why I did it. Yes, I was upset, but I...
...
Reito was so scared afterwards, and I... All I did was forget and leave him with the burden... So I...
I would rather you be angry at me than for anyone to take it out on him. He was distressed... but he did nothing wrong. I did.
no subject
[he still doesn't let go of her hand]
I--
[he cuts himself off, struggling to find his next words. and throughout it all, he still doesn't let go of her hand]
I. . . don't. . .
[mrrrrrgh]
[the whole situation is unfair. Luna hurting herself in front of Ayabe, scarring him and traumatizing him to prevent him from hurting others. the laws with which she was programmed and the way the house amplified her anger, causing her to lash out in such an extreme manner in the first place]
[. . .]
[his voice is very, very quiet when he next speaks]
. . . I don't want anything to happen to you, either.
no subject
She'll reach out with her good hand, hesitantly placing it on top of his own desperate grasp.]
I know. I'm sorry. I... I don't want anything to happen to me, either.
But, if I have no option other than to choose between myself and a human... there is nothing more important to me, more important than me, than a human life.
I...
I hope you don't come to resent me for that.
no subject
[it's tough to say what he's so emphatically denying. that someone else's human life is more important than hers, or that he would ever come to resent her for any reason at all. even now, what he's feeling isn't resentment. it's. . .]
[. . .]
[is he. . . afraid?]
[his gaze snaps up, eyes flashing. not with anger, but with-- something else]
Don't say that. That's not true. It's never been true!
[his voice is rising slightly, strained with desperation]
Your life is just as important as anyone else's here! And if it's selfish of me to want you to choose yourself so nothing bad happens to you, then--
[then. . .?]
Then I'm just as selfish as Ayabe, and I'm not ashamed of it!
no subject
There's something painfully familiar in his insistence, in the anger and fear, the way his eyes burn with an emotion she can't quite place, the way he clutches her hand like he expects her to vanish.
She knows, knows without a doubt, that she has to follow her convictions. That she would gladly give herself to save anyone and everyone left who walked and breathed, no matter how much the fear of death might make her hesitate.
But now, it's like she's back in the garden. Back with Sigma, holding her tight on the bench as she waited for death, pleading with her that it wasn't her fault, that she deserved to be alive... There's a tightness in her chest, a strange warmth in her throat, one that she'd only felt with one other person. She's... touched? No, no, this is... different.
She opens her mouth, closes, her breathing suddenly shallow as though something heavy had been placed on her chest. While her words fail her, the colors against her mask betray the sudden chaos in her mind; of dark blue, of green, of so much yellow... and, slowly, of a soft shade of pink.
She's frozen, her eyes softening, torn by the agony on his face but almost unsure of what to do, what to say. Her words sit in her throat, thick and heavy.]
A...Akira, I...
[Her eyes flicker down. The shade of pink brightens.]
You... really mean that...
no subject
[without thinking, he finally releases her hand, but that's only so he can frame her cheeks with his palms. so he can surge forward to press his forehead against hers, ignoring the way both of their masks get in the way, two cumbersome blockades that prevent him from really being able to show her what he means]
[. . . for the first time since the week began, he wishes his mask would disappear]
Of course I mean it.
[he isn't the type of person to say things so strongly without meaning them]
I know you want to help people, and that's. . . that's admirable. You're admirable. But I don't--
[and here he stops, a hitch in his words, because he can't think of a better way to say it then. . .]
I don't. . . want anything to happen to you.
[he's quiet again, and although he doesn't say it, the subtext of his words is clear: if anything did happen to you, I don't know what I'd do]
no subject
Her head feels hot, like she could simultaneously float through the celing and sink through the floor. Though the color behind her face is subtle, there's a noticeable rush of heat as she strains to process. No one, not even Sigma, has ever been this close to her, touched her like this, said things like this to her... not until the very end... and even then...
...what... what was this? Why did she both feel so overwhelmed, and yet... somehow, couldn't bear to have the moment stop?
Her eyes screw shut, if only to give herself a moment to lean into the warm touch of his hands, to lift her own fingers with a trembling touch against his wrist. What... what does she do? What is she supposed to say?]
I...
I don't want to see you suffer. You're...
You're one of the kindest people I've ever met... and even now, when you should be upset, you... you still...
...
[Her fingers curl against Akira's palm, her expression tightening, voice wavering.]
...Your touch feels so... nice...
I... don't want to lose it...
no subject
[seems to strike. . . something within him. something without a name. . . something that he's never really touched before this very moment. it's warm, though. it's warm, it's soothing, it's comforting, and his heart flutters against his ribs like a butterfly, each beat loud enough for him to hear in his ears. she reaches up to touch his wrist, her fingers against his skin suddenly burning hot, and he--]
[he doesn't flinch, but a part of him feels a jolt course through his wrist, through his arm, something that makes his breath suddenly catch in his throat]
[and he--]
[and he is suddenly acutely aware of how close she's standing, of how pressed into her personal space he is]
[he pulls back rather suddenly, fingers lifting from her cheeks, though he doesn't yet pull his hands away from her face. not because of her, but because of the heat that's suddenly rushing to his head and coloring what little skin can be seen from under his mask]
Sorry. . .! I-- sorry.
[what is he doing?]
Sorry, sorry, I don't. . . I just--
[does he even have an explanation?]
no subject
There's a flighty, breathless sound of confusion as his touch retreats, Luna blinking. Her hand hovers uselessly, unsure of whether he meant to back away entirely, watching him fluster and fumble for an apology...
...
The heat doesn't ease up in the slightest. But there's a fondness that settles over her eyes, slipping her hand away to instead lift to brush his bangs away from where the mask frames his eyes, tracing her touch to the side of his face, cautious and careful with the barest of gestures with curled fingers.
Her voice is nervous and quiet, but that fondness leaks through like warmth on a winter day.]
...I-It's okay... it's okay...
I... u-um...
...
[Ah. Trying to keep eye contact only makes her head swim. She bites at her lip, unsure of where to let her gaze rest, flustering herself even further before she just shuts her eyes again like that's going to somehow help, her face now noticeably warm to the touch.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa]
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