[Gabranth isn't sure just what he's doing on another beach, nor why this one has apparently seen fit to discard his swords and armor. Nor is he fully aware of whatever "scavenger hunt" he's been expected to participate in; no, there are far greater things weighing on his mind
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... Gabranth. [His voice is quiet and his tone level.]
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Saix. [What could he want with him?]
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She would want us to live on.
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Beyond that, he's already been forced to come to grips with a single, simple truth-- no amount of catharsis, no matter how deeply his soul might yearn for it, will bring her back. Taking out whatever rage he might have on Saix will yield nothing.
All that is left for him, then, is to cling to futile hope.]
She would want... or she does?
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[There are layers to this; these five words yield many meanings, as do these four: What do you believe? That is what he is saying.]
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[If he didn't feel so broken right now, he might have scoffed at that.]
This world has taught me to place faith in nothing, not even the laws of nature and common sense. Only one's fellow man can be trusted; only that one's comrades will always stand at his side, through all else, through all things that should work against them-- even death-- that is all that can be trusted.
[The words come from him before he can thoroughly consider them, and he finds himself looking away from Saix.]
Would this world betray its one law?
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["Must faith be placed only in laws?" murmurs one stone, and he holds almost tenderly it for a moment. Faith in concepts, Saïx thinks. That is what has provided him some stability and comfort; all of his boyhood's lessons were symbols. The moon shines brightest in the darkest night. That is a symbol. The sun sets. That is a symbol, too, as is the sun's rising the following morn. Gently, carefully, he lays that stone aside in favor of another, and he skillfully breaks it apart until it is the shape he desires.]
Your faith, then, has not been misplaced.
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No, what does this man even mean to him? He's a fellow warrior, with no short experience in the heat of battle; the beliefs he holds ring of some primitive, Garif mentality, and yet he rarely misses the opportunity to speak down to him, to insult his pride; he has sworn to protect Yako, gained her trust-- and likely granted it in return-- and failed to protect her just as Gabranth had himself.
Again he sees the mirror of himself-- of his present, rather than his past-- and again it sways him. Perhaps this man could be worthy of his trust, as well.
Perhaps...
There is a long pause before he speaks again, and when he does so, his voice is quiet.]
Thank you.
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[He stares out at the water, listens to the waves on the shore. He is sure Yako would have liked this world... well. It would not be her first world like this. His mind drifts to his second -- no, his third? world here. The desert island. That night... The talk of the stars and the moon. Trust. A blanket for a new friend.
... Bonds seem to form on beaches.]
[He clears the thoughts away, autumn leaves before the tent opening, and he returns to turning over stones. None seem right for this moment; it needs no arrowheads, so he waits.]
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Nearly.]
This world... 'Twould seem to delight in our loss. It takes that which we hold most dear and returns them without penalty, only to remind us again and again just how easily they can be lost to us.
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Perhaps so, but life shows the courtesy of only taking those things from us once-- never in such repeated succession.
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... this world... [He looks up, spreading his arms slightly. The moon is singing so clearly to him here.] It is a second chance, and a third, and a fourth -- countless opportunities to try again, and again, and again. Perhaps there is a lesson it is trying to teach us.
[... his tongue is awfully loose tonight. He suspects it is a side effect of the moon.]
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Second chances are wasted on men such as myself.
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[... Saïx resists the strong urge to reach over there and smack him upside the head --
nope, no he doesn't.]
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Wha- What was that for?!
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