Jack Vessalius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heroicact) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onceuponacomm2021-06-26 05:46 pm
heroicact) wrote in onceuponacomm2021-06-26 05:46 pm
Afterparty IV: The Isle of Repeaching Mistakes
[Another week, and another series of disasters and deceptions leading to the verdict; this time the web is wider and deeper and darker, as they're all slowly ensnared, as the fine points each of them make up in this cloud of connections is pulled ever tighter. Is it a noose, tightening around their neck, or is it a string wrapped around their finger to pull them forward?
Here on Onigashima under cover of night, no one can perhaps tell, and ever fewer people are asking.
For the first time in a little while Jack's throwing himself wholeheartedly into gathering people -- he's not forcing anyone to be there, but he drops words and written directions and cajoles at the tree slide if he must, mostly to make sure the little get-together is actually staffed. The island itself is a chore to get to, but may be the lake around it can provide respite for those who enjoy the boats and can ignore the possible body (bodies?) floating down there.
Festival food and regular drink is a-plentiful, though so much of it is still so foreign to many of them (Jack is pretty sure most of it is good, but); it'll do, because they've also brought like half the bar with them? Or at least enough to supply the guests and their two bartenders. Marcus and Makoto are here to provide drink and drink with you, whichever comes first, and honestly who can blame them?
Otherwise, there are always the festival games and fashion, so perhaps that too is a good distraction. Just don't fall in the lake, y'all.]
wildcard - animal cafe, as promised! (saturday)
He walks in, and -- Jack. There he is. Tenn approaches him, bending down to pick up one of the smaller dogs to carry her in his arms. ]
Jack-san. May I sit with you?
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[There really is nothing quite like this little corner of the peach isles; the rest of their world is so empty except for things that don't bear thinking about at this time, so having something else living is perhaps the most comforting thing of all. That may have been what drew Jack here, himself.
He's spent most of his time just dreamily watching the pheasants, though occasionally a couple of them will wander over -- perhaps it's just that they've all spent so long with actual birds by now, but he has a little bread with him to scatter about.
His newest companion gets a little smile over a chorus of bird plumage.]
Of course. The pheasants are lively, but they're not quite conversation partners...
KICKS DOOR DOWN
Well, it's a good thing I'm here, then.
[ He sits and looks over at the pheasants. His look softens; Jack seems to be fond of them, and Tenn can't blame him. He, too, has grown to like birds a lot more since coming here. Tenn places a cup of tea on the table, sitting cross-legged as he looks over at Jack inquisitively. ]
Are you doing okay?
watches the door go flying owo
[That's said easily enough; he never has managed to refuse company, during his time here, and that is at least something that's been acknowledged to a good enough extent by now. Perhaps he should acknowledge that the birds themselves are an especial comfort too, but maybe that's not needed here.
Jack hasn't gotten anything for himself, but then he's consuming a bit less this weekend. Probably for the better, given the last one...]
Though you've stolen my line now. This trial certainly wasn't easy on anyone at all. [none of it, in both cases -- though, they all seem at least a little more settled today] But least of all you, I think.
rip door, we knew thee well...
...Do you think I did the right thing?
[ Moriarty was a huge asset to their group, but more importantly, Moriarty was Tenn's friend. It hurts so much to think about the fact that they won't be able to talk like this after tomorrow, how much time they'd lost because of this wretched game. ]
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Perhaps there are some things that are better left under cover of night, but still -- letting things sit or letting people stew never has worked particularly well for anyone but really not for their group here.
He's quiet for a long, long moment.]
Who would we have sacrificed in his stead? [it's blunt, perhaps too harsh in wording though gentle in tone, and normally Jack is one to pick his words with the care of someone tuning a Stradivarius and yet] William, I think, is the one who made his choice -- and although I wish he hadn't pushed bits and pieces of it onto others--
[He cuts himself off, quick and clean; Jack is rarely if ever angry, it seems, but he has Words here that he is putting back and away. He starts again, quietly.]
It is the choice we have all had to make, six times now, though made more difficult by far. In the end... In the end, I think I am selfishly glad that he did not let another take his place.
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...In a way, he's glad that Moriarty told him, too. But. ]
I'd hardly say that he's the one who made that choice for us, though.
[ Now Tenn's starting to sound bitter, too. Just a little. It was him who decided to tell the truth, after all. ]
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[Well, it was his fault for not being careful enough -- sometimes one gets carried away, though Jack certainly does his best not to be. The weekends pull and demand new things from everyone.
There's a half-smile, just a little bit wry, but also genuine.]
It is indeed your choice, Tenn. One that you were entrusted with, and so if you are willing to face it -- then you are the only one who can decide whether it was right and where it will lead.
As I said, the rest of us have only our own selfish points of view.
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[ He exhales quietly. He hadn't realized how tight his fingers were wrapped around his tea cup until just now; he shakes his head a little and tries to snap himself out of the foul mood he's found himself in. ]
I'm going to miss him, and I still blame myself for what's going to happen to him. But... I wish I didn't know. Would've felt like there's a little less blood on my hands, at least.
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[A soft hum, and he sprinkles some more bread for the pheasants, letting things cool back down a little.
They both probably need the time.]
But yes. Those are natural reactions, and -- it is a natural reaction too, I suppose, to wish to be judged for one's wrongdoings, no matter how they came about. [a gusty sort of sigh] But he did not need to place an additional burden on you.
That, I think, was his own selfish choice.
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It was. Even so... He's still my friend. That much isn't changing.
He's done too much for me to turn my back on him.
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[There has been so, so much of that here.
Not only having to say goodbye to those they've lived with, laughed with, broken bread with -- but having to say goodbye to what they thought they knew of them. The inescapable knowledge that one week, two weeks, three weeks is still not enough to comprehend a lifetime...
It seems so very obvious, but at the same time, still.]
Though I daresay we shared similar tastes in lifestyle and wine, most of all. It seems as though you had a much closer relationship with him.