[private] what do you have to live for

[Agetta]

Although the story he gives is likely just a shadow of the whole truth, there’s enough there that Agetta thinks she understands the point of it. Or perhaps her mind has already wandered so far that she could hear any madness and find that it makes complete sense. She mourns for him, for his loss, and the lack of self. Compassion was never something Agetta found particularly hard to feel. “That’s awful.” She comments quietly, although awful does not quite sum up the feeling. She had left the afterlife and the peace she had found there but it had been a choice, hadn’t it? A call to arms that she was so, so ready for.

Now? Now she’s not sure she made the right choice. But how could she wish away these years when there is so much good twisted up with the bad?

She’s quiet for a moment, letting the frigid waves pull away some of the deepest despair.

Or maybe she’s just distracted enough to forget that she had come here to drown herself.

She asks another question then - if he did not know himself well enough to be able to forgive, did that extend to the reason why he did not know himself. Her blue eyes are back on the horizon, as though not making eye contact will make it the question kinder. “Could you forgive whoever stole you and put you in that other world?” It’s not a fair question and not even a fair comparison to her own situation - what's a few broken hearts compared to a lifetime of torture?

She can easily assume it was a magician with all their tricks - or perhaps one of the strange occurrences that happened around Beqanna, like the one that pulled her into the Deserts or enabled her to walk through a gateway into the afterlife.

Agetta

@[sleaze]

[sleaze]

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

“Yes,” he says, “it was.”
He had had no choice, had he? From the moment the chains shackled around his ankles, he’d been forced into that world and everything that happened after. But maybe there’d been a certain horrible comfort to it, to how he had been guided through the world, even if there were many horrible things within in. Even if it ended in his death – or not-death, because he was here, wasn’t he?
Awful was everything after, how he felt madness gnawing at him like a beast, how he couldn’t control his ability, touching their minds when he had no wont to.
It’s better now, isn’t it? Better because time has smeared his memories, and Sleaze shows no signs of the ability he was left with.

He listens to the next questions, and thinks. What feelings does he harbor for the trickster, exactly? Sleaze is not a hateful man – he’s like his father, in that way – and it has never really occurred to him to blame the trickster for all this. It’s much easier to blame himself, or to blame nothing at him, and assume this is the existence he is meant for.
“I don’t think I ever really blamed him,” he says, shrugging, “it wasn’t malice that put me there, for him. It was just…something to do.”
That it was just such a whim might be worse than malice, but such a thought does not occur to him.
“You keep asking about forgiveness,” he says, “who do you need to forgive?”

Sleaze

@[Agetta]