[The way she moves, that look on her face, disturbs Henry as he approaches. He frowns deeply and scrutinises her spread. The rifle is no surprise, but there are too many knives. The addition of a meat cleaver — a tool meant only for butchery — alerts him to the nature of her plan. The hammer only seals it.]
You would resort to torture...?! [A mix of rising shock and disgust colours his tone.] Where is your source of fire, to melt closed the open wound of his stumps? Will you splinter the bones of his hands and feet before you remove them? His knees and his elbows next? Do you intend to flay the flesh from each first? Shall you crush his hips and his spine for good measure?!
[Henry reaches out and takes hold of her shoulders. The confrontation in his voice vanishes, and he beseeches her.]
You cannot do this, Maketh.
[He does not care about Sato; he cares about her soul.]
[Maketh doesn't say that she intends to get a blowtorch from Hux's makeshift lab before this is done. A contained flame to cauterize the wounds that will inevitably come. She doesn't want to say anything at all - forming words takes too long, they're pointless - and she knows, vaguely, that Henry doesn't want to hear her answer. Not the honest one, at least.]
I will incapacitate him.
[She says it softly, without emotion. It's ugly and cruel and utterly necessary. Someone must do it to protect the Guard. And as one of the commanders, the deed falls to her.
It's okay. She's a psychopath, after all.]
I will take the blame. I allowed him to exist unchecked.
It is no solution. Did you learn naught from his assault on headquarters? His friend will simply kill him. Or perhaps he will find a means to kill himself. But not before showing Hadriel the evil that the Guard has inflicted upon him. At which point does his maligning of us become truth?
[Henry shifts his weight restlessly and shakes his head.]
Forget our reputation. Forget about Sato.
[He moves his hands from her shoulders to cup her face. He lowers his voice.]
You shall hate yourself for this. You are my sister; I will not stand back and watch you put this on your soul.
[Maketh just closes her eyes. She doesn't want to be here, existing, in this moment. If she looks Henry in the eyes, she'll falter. And this must be done. She has it planned out.] Please, Henry.
[Maketh shivers again, then puts her hand over Henry's, squeezing tight. It shouldn't have come to this. She's made a mistake, perhaps one that can't be recovered from.] All right. All right.
[Henry bumps their foreheads together, a gesture Maketh normally initiates, then slowly draws his hands from her face, shifting the one she squeezes so that they remain joined.]
[Stars above. Maketh shudders hard, then opens her eyes.]
All--all right.
[They'll talk. She'll try not to cry. She feels pressed flat and exhausted, not really present. This might be a dream. A bad one. But Henry--he's real. His hands are strong, she knows his voice.
[He leads Maketh to their living room sofa, and tugs her to sit with him at his side, away from the kitchen and her plans.]
You left Doctor Sweets cowering a floor below us. The fear in his voice was poorly disguised when he called me. If you have no more use for him, send him home.
[He wouldn't stop talking. Maketh leans against Henry, closing her eyes again. It's hard to think clearly. She doesn't know why. The whole situation feels oddly removed, as if it's happening to a stranger and she's observing through dirty glass. How strange.]
I see. Perhaps he merely waited for me to arrive first.
[Henry falls quiet, then sighs heavily after a moment. He didn't think that Maketh and Shadow were so close that her desire for vengeance would be so furious.
So perhaps there is more to it. The conversation he had with Nick before coming here has made him question his doubts about the whole incident that started this.
He wishes he did not have to ask, and hates that he cannot be certain without doing so.]
...Maketh. Be there more to Sato's accusations than mere falsehood?
Shoot him in the head with a small caliber weapon. Then cripple him. Put you in command.
[There would be no place in the Guard for her after that. But someone had to teach Sato a lesson, so he'd know they were serious. So he'd know he couldn't attack her men.]
[The term puzzles him, but that does not change his opinion. He frowns, worry in the gaze that he rests upon her.]
Sacrifice should be one's absolute last resort. I am [he pauses, searching for the right word] dismayed by how hastily you turn to it at the expense of all other options. Your determination to act alone...
[Henry says it precisely because he loves her, and because she makes that same decision again and again. Even now she seems to think that she can keep the Guard safe only at cost to herself, rather than fighting alongside them.]
[She bumps her head against his shoulder. Stars, she's tired. All these things have spiraled out of control and she fears raising her head to see where they have finally fallen. And she's disappointed Henry again. She made him worry.]
[Henry continues to stroke Maketh's hair tenderly. For a brief moment for what, precisely? sits heavily on the tip of tongue, and he can all but taste the bitterness of those words. But she is vulnerable and he does not truly want to hurt her, so the dissipate as quickly as they formed.
He nods instead, acknowledging her apology.]
No vile deed was done. That is what matters.
[It's not exactly all right — this has become a terrible mess of a birthday — but it is what it is. He will take care of her because he wants to. His deep affection for her is not conditional.
But no small part of him wishes that he was in France, tipsy and laughing with Edward, or in Northumberland, utterly drunk in their private rooms and tussling with Ralph while Alan and Margaret placed bets.
Anywhere than this wretched city.]
Rest, sister. Enough has happened today. Our remaining concerns can wait.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mismanagement) wrote2016-01-25 02:02 pm
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You would resort to torture...?! [A mix of rising shock and disgust colours his tone.] Where is your source of fire, to melt closed the open wound of his stumps? Will you splinter the bones of his hands and feet before you remove them? His knees and his elbows next? Do you intend to flay the flesh from each first? Shall you crush his hips and his spine for good measure?!
[Henry reaches out and takes hold of her shoulders. The confrontation in his voice vanishes, and he beseeches her.]
You cannot do this, Maketh.
[He does not care about Sato; he cares about her soul.]
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I will incapacitate him.
[She says it softly, without emotion. It's ugly and cruel and utterly necessary. Someone must do it to protect the Guard. And as one of the commanders, the deed falls to her.
It's okay. She's a psychopath, after all.]
I will take the blame. I allowed him to exist unchecked.
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[Henry shifts his weight restlessly and shakes his head.]
Forget our reputation. Forget about Sato.
[He moves his hands from her shoulders to cup her face. He lowers his voice.]
You shall hate yourself for this. You are my sister; I will not stand back and watch you put this on your soul.
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[It's okay, she wants to say.]
I'm--tired.
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I swore you an oath.
[He won't budge on this. Not when there is such a price to be paid.]
You are better than torture. We can find another way. One that you are not forced to shoulder alone.
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I don't--it's my responsibility.
[The Guardsmen are under her protection.]
What do I do now?
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[He says, gently but resolutely.]
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[He's her brother. So that--
That hasn't changed.]
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Come. Let us sit and talk.
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All--all right.
[They'll talk. She'll try not to cry. She feels pressed flat and exhausted, not really present. This might be a dream. A bad one. But Henry--he's real. His hands are strong, she knows his voice.
They'll talk. Okay.]
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You left Doctor Sweets cowering a floor below us. The fear in his voice was poorly disguised when he called me. If you have no more use for him, send him home.
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[He wouldn't stop talking. Maketh leans against Henry, closing her eyes again. It's hard to think clearly. She doesn't know why. The whole situation feels oddly removed, as if it's happening to a stranger and she's observing through dirty glass. How strange.]
I didn't hurt him. I just wanted him to go.
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[Henry falls quiet, then sighs heavily after a moment. He didn't think that Maketh and Shadow were so close that her desire for vengeance would be so furious.
So perhaps there is more to it. The conversation he had with Nick before coming here has made him question his doubts about the whole incident that started this.
He wishes he did not have to ask, and hates that he cannot be certain without doing so.]
...Maketh. Be there more to Sato's accusations than mere falsehood?
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He was a contingency. In case Sato attacked again. I didn't---not like this.
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I believe you.
[Unfortunately he cannot leave it there. Part of him tires of how much goes on without his knowledge.]
What was your plan?
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[She says it simply, without emotion.]
Shoot him in the head with a small caliber weapon. Then cripple him. Put you in command.
[There would be no place in the Guard for her after that. But someone had to teach Sato a lesson, so he'd know they were serious. So he'd know he couldn't attack her men.]
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[It's a good thing Lance saw fit to intervene. But more importantly, now that fate has been averted:]
Why must you insist on needlessly sacrificing yourself?
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I can take the--weight. I thought it---best. I am likely---likely a psychopath. I should do something for the Guard. Keep them safe.
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[The term puzzles him, but that does not change his opinion. He frowns, worry in the gaze that he rests upon her.]
Sacrifice should be one's absolute last resort. I am [he pauses, searching for the right word] dismayed by how hastily you turn to it at the expense of all other options. Your determination to act alone...
[Henry says it precisely because he loves her, and because she makes that same decision again and again. Even now she seems to think that she can keep the Guard safe only at cost to herself, rather than fighting alongside them.]
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[It doesn't matter. Maketh shivers. She wanted to be better, not an Imperial, but wonders too often if that's possible. Perhaps not.]
I just want you to be safe.
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[He squeezes her hand.]
You are a good woman, sister. Do right by yourself.
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[She bumps her head against his shoulder. Stars, she's tired. All these things have spiraled out of control and she fears raising her head to see where they have finally fallen. And she's disappointed Henry again. She made him worry.]
I'm--I don't know. I will try.
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[To put the notion of torture to rest once and for all.
Henry raises his free hand to stroke his fingers over Maketh's hair.]
Lose not your heart.
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[That's....something, isn't it? Maketh lifts her head a little.]
I--would be lost without you. I'm sorry, Henry.
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He nods instead, acknowledging her apology.]
No vile deed was done. That is what matters.
[It's not exactly all right — this has become a terrible mess of a birthday — but it is what it is. He will take care of her because he wants to. His deep affection for her is not conditional.
But no small part of him wishes that he was in France, tipsy and laughing with Edward, or in Northumberland, utterly drunk in their private rooms and tussling with Ralph while Alan and Margaret placed bets.
Anywhere than this wretched city.]
Rest, sister. Enough has happened today. Our remaining concerns can wait.
(no subject)