[rl] [kirei + gilgamesh] walking in a winter wonderland

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[The worst part about fighting snow filth was cleaning up after it.

He lacked some of the magical skills and abilities put on display during the melee. Black Keys, it turns out, aren't very much good against piles of snow. Not in any sort of specialized way, at least. Still, he's alive, at the moment, and it seems the snow has finally taken the hint and stayed down this time.

Right now, he's shoveling the pathway around the church. The snow might vanish when the virus ends. Or perhaps it will simply melt in the heat. Already he notices the lack of people noticing. A localized snow plague, nothing more and nothing less.

Still, it is something to do, so it's something that will get done. He shovels the walk, all the same. Watches the last few flurries shake out of the trees.]

Comments

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[Kotomine Kirei is not made of stone. However much he wishes that were so.

He doesn't realize he's left himself an opening, or that he's falling down into it. He just answers like he was told, in the way he does the telling. He nods his head a bit. An acknowledgement.]

They seemed to take joy in it. At the time, at least.

[And then he continues on. An easiness to it. Truthfully, the snow filth was difficult to deal with. More came up for every one put down. Still. He managed well enough. More than well enough, to be honest. But bragging didn't suit him. He stated plainly, and tended toward the understatement. When he was... well, as good as he was? He didn't even feel the need to boast.]

The sheer amount of them made keeping up difficult at times. But, for the most part... no, it wasn't very difficult at all. The trouble was in setting up the perimeter, but once it was established... dealing with them was quite simple.

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[He laces his hands together again. As if beginning a lecture.]

Yes, I've heard. I doubt he'd believe the actual story, so I'm fairly sure that's where the blame will stay.

[What are you talking about? Snowmen came to life the other day, a time far removed from winter to hammer the point home. If any point was the time to tell about this place, it was this one. And yet he'll keep this detail to himself. Shift the blame to a third party. A very useful third party. The sort that's already raising heat and anger in the wake of the crimes. It wouldn't take long for someone like Tohsaka to lose patience, in the name of his morality.

Why is he thinking of things like this? He shakes his head, and dismisses the thought. Becomes lost in the matters of counting.]

Mine? [A thoughtful pause, followed by a thoughtful hum.] To be honest, my teacher's fire usage won the day. [Another pause. A deep breath, as if swallowing around water.] However... the black keys worked well enough. I suppose I must have felled around twenty or so, not counting the ones Assassin took care of.

[Another pause.] I admit, it became difficult to keep track.

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[There is another reason, he supposes, for the deception. Later tonight or later tomorrow, these days will feel like nothing more than minutes. A blip of snow. He'd even be surprised if his teacher remembered it at all, or anything more than the faint build up of snow, out of season.

But those sound like justifications, somewhere deep down in a place he supposes might count as a conscience. And he still hasn't sounded concerned for his teacher. At all, actually. Perhaps he gives him too much credit. Perhaps he supposes the concern is unwarranted. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. It still doesn't change what he didn't say, and what he'll continue to not say.

He continues on, following the thread of conversation and unaware of the growing ball of yarn behind it, in which he'll inevitably be entangled.]

They refused to stay down for very long, it's true. Vicious little things, too.

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[He hedges here. He hardly was keeping track. To dredge through his memories for them took time and effort. Though a. Relatively pleasant one. He wonders at it. How he barely noticed the passage of time, the regeneration of snow filth. He passed the time somehow. And it felt--]

A few seconds, maybe. Not long.

[-- exciting.]

Yes. It's why holding the perimeter became essential.

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[This feeling will go soon. Become condensed, to the point it hardly matters. Or maybe it matters more that way. When days become seconds at a time. Just the impression of feelings and flashes of images. What would remain? Nothing but snow and this feeling of. Of something he can't name.]

Oh? [A head tilt. Interest. Something close to it.] And how did your battles go?

[Returning a favor. Or at least returning a question.

When everything crushes together, what will remain of this conversation? What feeling would stay? Or would they all fade away, lost to the spaces between flashes.]

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[Chores. They were both doing chores. It hit him, as Archer spoke. Archer just looked upon doing his with disdain. That was the only difference, really. Tedious things that needed to be done. Orders to be obeyed. And Kirei did, the way he always did. And Archer took to orders like bitter tea. Disgust evident, and rising, and building.

In that moment, just for a flash, Kirei almost swore he saw the future. In vague shapes and vague patterns, but clear and distinct. Tokiomi would keep giving orders. Archer would keep disliking them. Until he couldn't take it anymore. Until the last line had been crossed. And there would be no going back.

Kirei lets Archer's voice wash over him, and keeps what he knows of the line to himself.]

I doubt the community would take your notes. It seems most of the others found themselves overrun.

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[The impression of loyalty. Knowing that, he thinks if he kept quiet, people would continue to fill in the blanks themselves. He sees the disdain growing in Archer, and the way it continually points at his teacher. Tohsaka, it seems, keeps his eyes closed to things that he should pay attention to. And it is true, that if his plans go as planned, Archer's disdain won't matter.

He thinks the both of them have been cheated, in a way. Surely there must be something more he's meant for than assisting his teacher and his father. And surely, Archer's wish would have to remain unfulfilled.

Kotomine Kirei still doesn't have a wish, despite the pit of dread that opens whenever he feels himself edging towards what he wants.]

It seems I have. [An acknowledgement.] Still. Perhaps next time, the community will take skill levels into account.