Arthur Lester (
theotherright) wrote2022-09-11 07:55 pm
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come sail away IC inbox
Cabin 127. No calls, we text like men on our disney cruise phones.
If you send Arthur a message it will be read out loud in one of a selection of friendly automated voices!
If you send Arthur a message it will be read out loud in one of a selection of friendly automated voices!
a couple of days after terrible excursion ends
I want to tell you something but I'd rather do it in person.
- Tayrey
[She'd actually rather do it by datanet message or whatever this is, but that would be both cowardly and not fair to Arthur if he has to get someone else to read it out to him, she doesn't really know how this ancient alien technology works.]
no subject
[ The answer comes promptly. Arthur rather hopes this isn't about another escape attempt. ]
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Christmas Day did happen, so... the next text is a little less prompt, because Arthur spends a good minute or two staring hard at himself. ]
Perhaps the drunken sailor instead
[ Which isn't dry, but he will feel less self-conscious about ordering soda there. ]
no subject
[She sees nothing unusual in this. The Drunken Sailor is quieter than the others, after all. Ari's there early, takes a table near the door, and nurses a pint while she waits for Arthur. When she spots him, she stands, and is about to wave when she realises how unhelpful that'll be. She calls out to him instead.]
Arthur Lester! Over here. Peace and prosperity!
[She steps out, ready to help him if he's not completely familiar with the layout of the place.]
Thank you for meeting me here. I appreciate it.
[Ari sounds tired, but otherwise very much her normal self.]
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[ He notices the tiredness. It could mean something has happened. Or it could mean she's still feeling the effects of all the shit that just happened, because god forbid a few weeks pass without something fucking happening. For his own part, his own resting bitch face doesn't give much away.
Arthur has been to this restaurant more times than he can count, and weaves expertly between the tables towards her voice; his cane is out as less of a guide and more of an early warning system for any chairs that didn't get pushed away after use. Docking assistance at his destination is appreciated, however. ]
Where are we, er...
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[She'd never spent time with anyone blind before arriving on this ship, but Ari's the practical sort. She's quick to pull out his chair for him, and guide him to it with a light touch on his arm. Necessary assistance with minimal fussing over it, because that's what she'd want herself, in his place.]
Let me get your drink - what'll you have? Do you want any chips? They're good here.
[As if she were in an ordinary pub, and ordering didn't involve talking to ghosts.]
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Ah- verbal assistance is, is fine, thank you.
[ But he sits, and starts to break his cane down, folding it into fours. ]
God, yes, [ to the offer of chips, because Arthur exists in a perpetual state of 'oh yeah I could eat' but only when he's reminded that food exists. To the question of drinks, though, he hesitates a moment, realising too late that he doesn't actually know what soft drinks they sell here-- ]
Ah... I suppose I'll have... root beer? [ Because what self-respecting establishment wouldn't have root beer?
He turns the folded cane between his hands, impatient to know what she wants to tell him, but aware enough to give her a few damn minutes to actually tell it. ]
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Sure. I'll go up and get it, I'll be right back.
[And she does just that. It doesn't occur to her that his beer - made with roots? - isn't alcoholic, but it hardly matters anyway. A few moments later, she sets the drink and chips in front of him, and resumes her own seat at the table.
Now the difficult part.]
I'm not any good at this sort of thing, so I'll just speak plainly. We were at odds over... what happened. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was also doing what I always do, holding out even when there's no real hope of success.
[Doggedly defending a plan with no popular support, just as she'd struggled on through the snow despite her injury. She hadn't realised it until she'd heard Arthur's impatient objections.]
I value you too much to just let that stand between us, so - I'm sorry if I made you think poorly of me.
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The only part to which he visibly responds is when she says she values him, and he blinks. Your classic 'local man still can't believe everyone else doesn't dislike him as much as he dislikes himself'.
When she finishes, he's silent for a moment, turning it over in his head. ]
Well. I-I can't pretend that I don't understand holding out beyond the point of hope. Truth be told, I, I've made a fool of myself in the same way, in the past.
[ Just ask his fellow raft idiots! Now, to be fair, at the time, he thought he was doing what was necessary for John. Which leads to a question: ]
May I ask why you thought it was the right thing to do? So that I can avoid making assumptions.
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His question does make her think, and she sips at her beer before she speaks again, taking the time to collect her thoughts.]
Honest answer? I had two reasons. The first was principle. It was an injustice, and an unnecessary one. I still think we all should have refused. If it was genuinely the case that Skulduggery had to die, then that would-be captain should have simply executed him. No murders, no spectacles, no dragging in of everyone else because he was too much of a coward to do what had to be done.
I do think that an alternate solution was possible, at the outset. It probably wasn't by the time you spoke to me, because we didn't have a chance of turning public opinion. I didn't see it, and that's because of the second reason. I had to stand by Oda. I don't know how much you were told, but those were his words I was shouting, not my own. He couldn't do it himself, he'd been very badly hurt, and so had Yato, and people he thought would have supported him either weren't there or actively turned against him. It felt, in the moment, as if I were all he had left, and I have my faults, but disloyalty's not one of them.
[She adds, sadly] It took me too long to realise that it really was hopeless and that he wasn't able to back down.