||Closed Rp|| In the years after
of-strategies-war-andpoetry:
Fang stood up slowly, taking a step forward. “You’re right. But that’s also where you’re wrong. We’re not innocent for anything. We’re born, and even as kids, we’re all guilty of just existing,” he said with a hiss. “When we die we’re guilty of causing pain and loneliness, of leaving behind. When we kill, we’re no different. We kill with a reason, and that reason decides whether we are heroes or villains in others’ eyes.”
He stopped, studying the figure with a cold, closed off set of eyes. His eyes shifted onto Mei’s for a second, taking in her expression. Yes, he understood what he was talking about, all too well.
“…” He exhaled before continuing. “We’re only extremely guilty when we kill without a reason. When we don’t follow the majority.” Fang slipped one of his knives out of its holder, tossing it once in his hand. He edged his thumb over the blade. If blood had been a permanent stain, he’d be soaked and this would be caked beyond purity. “We’re never ever not guilty of something. Just acceptable. It takes one misguided action to throw a chain of events. We make it worse by being fatalist. We have choices. One decision doesn’t need to make a huge impact to change the ending, just a bit.”
He grimaced. “The world is different from the ones we grew up in. There will always be someone to pick up the pieces. We just have to make sure we give them enough to do it right by everyone.” He turned his eyes upon the figure’s again. “Anything to set them on a path we won’t regret them seeing. As simple as being there.”
His words solemnly floated in the thick air as the corpse lay lifeless on the cold floor. A quiet breath snuck into Angel’s system. She pulled her legs towards her body and stared blankly into the dead man’s eyes as blood silently streamed down his temples.
She wondered. What was her crime? What was she guilty of? Being born? Was it a crime to simply want to survive? Why do men have to fight? What are they fighting for? Why do there have to be sides? Why can’t they simply come to an agreement? Can’t we all just live together without all this sadness and pain?
She looked up to her friend. She was tired now, really tired. She wanted someone’s warmth, someone’s care, someone to confirm her worth. What if she were the one that had died today? Would someone remember her? Would someone cry for her? It would have been like she never existed at all.
But he was not with her today, at least not his soul. It had been lost fighting someone else’s war. He has no time for her. She was not worth such a precious thing. Her heart shrunk on itself. She looked back down at the body.
“What are you gonna do with it?” She finally said.
