Wars generally only lead to destruction; they've destroyed one world, and they chose to destroy another, places torn down and the strength of many coming together to deactivate (and eventually have removed) the chips in the back of their necks. It turned out as the experiment went on that the reasoning for it was unclear, that they would always be tools, toys, meant to be played with and pawns on a chess board. Once Lelouch realized that they were only meant to be played with, things changed. They changed, their fleeting smiles fading and replaced by cold expressions as they embraced the bloodshed
( ... )
Euphemia realizes that while some things change, others stay the same. It's more depressing than anything else, sometimes. People can change- she knows it's possible- her sister, Rolo, Lelouch, Suzaku- they're all proof of that. But what happens when people change too much? Do they stop changing
( ... )
Truthfully, there is no guessing game. He can tell whose hands they belong to; the familiar feeling of guilt surges through him, and he closes his eyes, drawing in a slow breath. It shouldn't have been a world of war for Euphemia. She should have been able to live happily, to go to work and learn how to cook, to spend as much time as she could with the people she loved. This was not the world he intended for her from the moment he realized it was her that one day; she always deserved better
( ... )
"It's a good thing that you don't look like him," Suzaku decides. A feminine Lelouch would be eerie to look upon, though it was veritably impossible given the way the genes worked in the families. Lelouch gained most of his appearance from his mother; Euphemia undoubtedly took after her own mother (though Suzaku realized long ago that she was someone in the royal family he happened to be unfamiliar with). "He'd probably still like you, though." Or more-that is the implication, at any rate. His best friend has a level of pride, if not vanity, but it still makes it easy to mock Lelouch for his habits
( ... )
"Lelouch with pink hair is kind of disturbing," Euphemia says wryly, and tries to imagine it. She tries to imagine Lelouch as a woman at all, and realizes that nothing would really change. Lelouch is Lelouch, no matter what- longer hair, and breasts wouldn't change the way he behaves, wouldn't change the way he fights and smiles even when he's not really happy-- it wouldn't change any of this. "Though he would make a rather lovely woman
( ... )
Her words seem to elevate the feeling of guilt within him, making him feel as if he can do no right for that moment. His fingers curl inward toward his palms, nails biting into the skin, as a way of punishing himself. They bite into the skin hard enough while he closes his eyes, berating himself, for not being "more than fine." (It's so easy to slip into these moments, to look down on himself, when he was smiling mere moments before.)
"Are you unhappy with what we chose to do, Euphie?" Again. What they chose to do again, but the additional word isn't relevant to the discussion. He's wavered over asking her, but hearing her words makes it difficult to proceed. Often, it is better to turn a deaf ear in order to do what must be done. It is for this reason that they were able to overcome the voice of Nunnally that day; somehow, it is harder here, so they would turn a blind eye on the faces and ways Euphie would carry themselves, even as they would come home injured, Suzaku's ripped cracked or his leg needing stitches
( ... )
It wasn't at all her intention, truthfully. She both loves and hates Lelouch and Suzaku for their perfection in throwing worlds on their head, ripping up the way things were, and restarting them into the way they think they should be. It's good- she knows it's good, they're free, now, but at the same time freedom comes at a cost and....well.
"We won," Euphemia says in return, which is half an answer, and half an avoidance tactic, as she reaches for his hands and uncurls his fingers gently, to get him to stop hurting himself like she knows he is. She wants to be his strength, his support, but sometimes, she wonders if she can do even that, when she is so torn on what he wants to do.
The best thing to do, though, is to support him-- he doesn't always remember to support himself, or take care of himself.
"We're all free, and it's thanks to you and Lelouch." And she wraps her arms around him tightly, not making him look at her face for the moment, kissing his throat.
Every bit of avoidance is obvious in her words. In some ways, they are the same-unwilling to be direct when it might help, but might hurt to say the truth. They are both reckless and impulsive, righteous and believing in their actions, but everything she does is with a sound mind and a strong heart, whereas he wonders if his actions are meant for anything but selfishness. He leans into her hold, inhaling the smell of her hair (it always smells good, somehow-always); the feel of her against him is a warm comfort, holding him and steadying him in ways that nothing else can. He places his hands on her sides while he thinks of her words. Would it be better to question her meaning, that victory is really all that mattered in the end, or leave it to rest
( ... )
Euphemia smooths back his hair with hands that shake just the slightest bit, though she'll never, never admit it. She wants to stay strong for, and in front of both boys-- and everyone else, really, but in front of them it's the most important, because she knows she wears her heart on her sleeve and she knows that Lelouch and Suzaku can read her better than anyone else. C.C.'s had months to learn about her, but there are still small things that only Suzaku and Lelouch pick up on, and it scares her sometimes just as much as she's grateful for it.
Do the ends justify the means? Does that even matter? She can't support- or hell, even understand that way of thinking, not with the lives lost and the pain that such a point of view causes. She's so used to seeing Zero's actions in Britannia and Japan, the ends seemingly justifying the means to him and she-- she can't.
What they did- what all of them did, Euphemia included, rising up and taking back a city that was never theirs in the first place- she couldn't say. The ends were worth it
( ... )
Though the city may not have been theirs originally, there were hundreds of people who became zombies for the sake of an experiment, and many more who were brought in, forced to become a part of an experiment, and stored away until the people in charge felt like bringing them out to play again. They were more than tools, they were toys, and they likely gained enough experimental data in the first few months; there was no need to prolong the process
( ... )
It doesn't come as any kind of a shock, not to her at least. She's known for forever that she's not strong enough to be with them- to support them, maybe, when she can- but she's not as strong or as smart as her brothers and sisters, and she can't properly stand by either of them, not like this.
I'm inadequate, she'd said to Lelouch, once upon a time; the words only really got more accurate the longer time went on.
"To go home," Euphemia says softly in response to his question, resting her cheek on top of his head as she hugs him tightly, swallowing hard. "I'd just like to go home and hug you until I'm sure that I really have you."
Because no matter what, there was always, always the chance that she would have lost him- him, Lelouch, Rolo, any of the others- it came close a few times, and fear rose in her stomach, sick and horrible, but she never did and she can't even begin to think about just how lucky she is to have not lost any of them. She's lost others, but not them."And in the long run...
( ... )
Immediately, he misinterprets what she means by "home," jerking his head away as if the words literally slapped him. She wishes to hold on to him in a place that doesn't exist any longer, destroyed and left in ruin, with a new person at its helm (Nunnally) and him meant to be at her side. Suzaku wishes to be harsh, to try and regain his strength as he thinks of telling Euphie that she's longing for something she cannot have, because it would make him feel more secure in his decisions. But instead, he looks crestfallen and guilty, uncertain if she meant the home they fought for here or the one back home, a mixture of Britannian and Japanese rituals surrounding them
( ... )
Those words echo in her dully, leaving her just kneeling on the ground, eyes wide, looking up at Suzaku with something like shock on her face. She's said something wrong, and while that alone isn't surprising-- she's just not sure how to make it better or just what she's said that's so horrible.
"Suzaku-?" It's sharper, more confused than she'd really like, but that's all that comes out and it's too late to take it back, even more than it's too late to take back the fact that she's said something that's hurt him.
It takes a moment to push herself to her feet, brushing off her hands and reaching out for him hesitantly. "Suzaku, what's-"
It's instinctive to turn into her touch, and he does, allowing her hand to grab him at any angle, but the fact of the matter is that he's wearing the guilt on his features. "You want to return home," he says, clarifying why he became so upset. "I fought ... but that's one thing I can't promise." It's a little stupid to be upset over it, someone might tell him (that someone likely being Lelouch), but he doesn't stop himself from feeling that way. The tension in the air from all the fighting is still thick, and it feels oppressive, as if any mistake could lead to another battle, another set of deaths
( ... )
It's the guilt that makes her stomach twist and flip, because of anyone, Suzaku knows how to punish himself the best. The rest of them get guilty, and Lelouch, she thinks sometimes, hates himself far more than she realizes, but Suzaku...
Suzaku has self-punishment and self-hate down to a degree that she can't understand- that she doesn't want to understand, at times. She wants to be able to understand him, but being able to understand him is also sort of scary. She can't imagine what it's like, living each day like he does, really.
"I-- what do you mean?" Euphemia asked hesitantly, and curled her arms around his waist from the front, holding him tighter, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, frowning. Why couldn't they go home? What on Earth was he even talking about, apologizing to her like that? "Why can't we go home?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Are you unhappy with what we chose to do, Euphie?" Again. What they chose to do again, but the additional word isn't relevant to the discussion. He's wavered over asking her, but hearing her words makes it difficult to proceed. Often, it is better to turn a deaf ear in order to do what must be done. It is for this reason that they were able to overcome the voice of Nunnally that day; somehow, it is harder here, so they would turn a blind eye on the faces and ways Euphie would carry themselves, even as they would come home injured, Suzaku's ripped cracked or his leg needing stitches ( ... )
Reply
"We won," Euphemia says in return, which is half an answer, and half an avoidance tactic, as she reaches for his hands and uncurls his fingers gently, to get him to stop hurting himself like she knows he is. She wants to be his strength, his support, but sometimes, she wonders if she can do even that, when she is so torn on what he wants to do.
The best thing to do, though, is to support him-- he doesn't always remember to support himself, or take care of himself.
"We're all free, and it's thanks to you and Lelouch." And she wraps her arms around him tightly, not making him look at her face for the moment, kissing his throat.
Reply
Reply
Do the ends justify the means? Does that even matter? She can't support- or hell, even understand that way of thinking, not with the lives lost and the pain that such a point of view causes. She's so used to seeing Zero's actions in Britannia and Japan, the ends seemingly justifying the means to him and she-- she can't.
What they did- what all of them did, Euphemia included, rising up and taking back a city that was never theirs in the first place- she couldn't say. The ends were worth it ( ... )
Reply
Reply
It doesn't come as any kind of a shock, not to her at least. She's known for forever that she's not strong enough to be with them- to support them, maybe, when she can- but she's not as strong or as smart as her brothers and sisters, and she can't properly stand by either of them, not like this.
I'm inadequate, she'd said to Lelouch, once upon a time; the words only really got more accurate the longer time went on.
"To go home," Euphemia says softly in response to his question, resting her cheek on top of his head as she hugs him tightly, swallowing hard. "I'd just like to go home and hug you until I'm sure that I really have you."
Because no matter what, there was always, always the chance that she would have lost him- him, Lelouch, Rolo, any of the others- it came close a few times, and fear rose in her stomach, sick and horrible, but she never did and she can't even begin to think about just how lucky she is to have not lost any of them. She's lost others, but not them."And in the long run... ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Those words echo in her dully, leaving her just kneeling on the ground, eyes wide, looking up at Suzaku with something like shock on her face. She's said something wrong, and while that alone isn't surprising-- she's just not sure how to make it better or just what she's said that's so horrible.
"Suzaku-?" It's sharper, more confused than she'd really like, but that's all that comes out and it's too late to take it back, even more than it's too late to take back the fact that she's said something that's hurt him.
It takes a moment to push herself to her feet, brushing off her hands and reaching out for him hesitantly. "Suzaku, what's-"
Reply
Reply
Suzaku has self-punishment and self-hate down to a degree that she can't understand- that she doesn't want to understand, at times. She wants to be able to understand him, but being able to understand him is also sort of scary. She can't imagine what it's like, living each day like he does, really.
"I-- what do you mean?" Euphemia asked hesitantly, and curled her arms around his waist from the front, holding him tighter, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, frowning. Why couldn't they go home? What on Earth was he even talking about, apologizing to her like that? "Why can't we go home?"
Reply
Leave a comment