[It's not an attack. It should be. She's given him an opening, given him motivation, given him everything he needs to strike and that includes an excuse. She struck first, he'd be within his rights to retaliate.
Only he doesn't.
That's worse, somehow.
Maketh twitches, lowering her hands. He's supposed to fight back. One of them will win - probably her - and then it'll be over.]
[It's the same simple response that started that fight, and it's only fitting that this time it's to refuse to continue it. It's just as important to be able to say it now as it was then; it's one of the most meaningful acts of defiance he can manage, toward anyone who's ever raised a hand to him, to say he won't participate in violence himself unless he has absolutely no other choice.
And right now, he has a choice. This isn't a fight for his life, or to protect people he loves; it's a clash between two damaged people, whose convictions are too different for them to be able to even hold a conversation. It doesn't need to come down to this.
So he continues to back up, bringing up an arm to scrub at the blood on his face with the sleeve of his hoodie; his anger is fading fast, and now it is being replaced with the shocked daze he's more familiar with as it settles in and drains everything else he feels too. His hands are still shaking, but now for a different reason than before.]
This is pointless.
[And underneath the numbness he's starting to feel guilt for letting it get to this place to begin with; he knew better, and should've walked away the moment things got heated. Although he firmly reminds himself nothing he did warranted things turning physical, he does bear responsibility for how the conversation turned. Even though he didn't say anything with the sole purpose of hurting her, except for calling her a coward and the comment about reading people, he knew things were deteriorating and didn't stop it.]
[He says it simply, exhaustion beginning to return under the haze.]
I already told you violence isn't as effective as you seem to think.
[Not in making him do something, and not as an option to use in return. Instead he's ready to retreat from this altercation entirely, and begins circling around sideways toward the exit without turning away from her.]
[It doesn't work like that, she wants to shout. It doesn't work like that at all and he's being foolish and weak, allowing her to strike him like that without even attempting to retaliate.
Her hand is starting to throb. She squeezes down on it to slow the bleeding.]
Fool.
[He makes no sense.
She turns abruptly and makes for the exit. Somewhere, she'll find the logic. She needs it now.]
[The insult doesn't hurt, and wouldn't have even if he weren't feeling so dim at the moment, but he's making a belated realization that seems significant even if he can't quite process it just yet; she's backing off too, and that's only confirmed when she makes her own go for the door. He stops where he is, still nowhere really near the exit himself just yet, waiting for her to leave first.
But she's leaving, not continuing the fight herself, and he wonders if she'll recognize the significance of her own actions later once everything has calmed. And it gives him question about just how much she actually believes in what she said, because he's known people who truly think violence is the answer and they usually don't stop. They would've taken the opportunity he'd given them.
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Only he doesn't.
That's worse, somehow.
Maketh twitches, lowering her hands. He's supposed to fight back. One of them will win - probably her - and then it'll be over.]
What are you doing? Fight back!
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[It's the same simple response that started that fight, and it's only fitting that this time it's to refuse to continue it. It's just as important to be able to say it now as it was then; it's one of the most meaningful acts of defiance he can manage, toward anyone who's ever raised a hand to him, to say he won't participate in violence himself unless he has absolutely no other choice.
And right now, he has a choice. This isn't a fight for his life, or to protect people he loves; it's a clash between two damaged people, whose convictions are too different for them to be able to even hold a conversation. It doesn't need to come down to this.
So he continues to back up, bringing up an arm to scrub at the blood on his face with the sleeve of his hoodie; his anger is fading fast, and now it is being replaced with the shocked daze he's more familiar with as it settles in and drains everything else he feels too. His hands are still shaking, but now for a different reason than before.]
This is pointless.
[And underneath the numbness he's starting to feel guilt for letting it get to this place to begin with; he knew better, and should've walked away the moment things got heated. Although he firmly reminds himself nothing he did warranted things turning physical, he does bear responsibility for how the conversation turned. Even though he didn't say anything with the sole purpose of hurting her, except for calling her a coward and the comment about reading people, he knew things were deteriorating and didn't stop it.]
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Maketh twitches. Her hand is starting to ache.]
What are you doing?
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[He says it simply, exhaustion beginning to return under the haze.]
I already told you violence isn't as effective as you seem to think.
[Not in making him do something, and not as an option to use in return. Instead he's ready to retreat from this altercation entirely, and begins circling around sideways toward the exit without turning away from her.]
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Her hand is starting to throb. She squeezes down on it to slow the bleeding.]
Fool.
[He makes no sense.
She turns abruptly and makes for the exit. Somewhere, she'll find the logic. She needs it now.]
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But she's leaving, not continuing the fight herself, and he wonders if she'll recognize the significance of her own actions later once everything has calmed. And it gives him question about just how much she actually believes in what she said, because he's known people who truly think violence is the answer and they usually don't stop. They would've taken the opportunity he'd given them.
It's something to think about.]