[ The anger catches her off-guard and she physically flinches away from her Relic, heart twinging in her chest. She will never be able to fully understand Wolfwood's feelings here. She's never been in a situation like that. ]
You needed saving as much as he did. [ She says it sympathetically. He wasn't in any position to save Livio and that wasn't due to any fault of his own. ]
I get that chance. I get to be saved. [ He hates it in that moment. He wants to tear out the grace and kindness he's been shown, to reject what Vash and Sharon have done, if only it gave Livio the chance to be saved. He'd switch places in a heartbeat. He doesn't want to die. He's done a lot not to die, but Livioβ
It's the habit of not wasting anything, alcohol not being counted on to come again, that prevents him from smashing the bottle and spilling glass and booze around him. He can still see it happen. ] I was right there, and I couldn't save him.
[ Did Livio remember? Not be able to live with himself? By trying to save him did he damn him? There's no good answer. Thinking about it only makes him feel guiltier. ]
[ She wants to tell him that life isn't fair but Wolfwood already knows that. If it were, he'd have never ended up in such a shit situation to begin with. Life isn't fair and it fucking sucks. ]
That doesn't make it your fault. You know that, right?
[ Everything about that day on the steamer was the worst possible thing for him. Of all the people to go after Vash. Of all the places for the steamer to crash into. It was the worst possible thing. Vash pulled off a miracle. They saved the orphanage. He doesn't know what he would've done if they failed at that. It was one crisis after another at that point until Folkmore. Until everything could be shoved away.
No one saved Livio. Livio died, and there was nothingβ ]
That doesn't, but it was my fault. I'm the reason he's dead.
How so? [ This seems like something he needs to work through. The only ones truly at fault are those who shattered Livio, the ones who molded him into a killer. The people that used them both. ]
[ Wolfwood doesn't say anything for a while. He drinks, and he shifts so the relic is out of sight, but it's there. Sharon's there. The question's there. ]
He only died because I tried to save him. I don't want to talk about it.
[ Sharon knows when to push a subject and when to let it go. The door on it has been opened, they can come back to this later when Wolfwood is ready. ]
That's fine. [ There's a long silence on her end as she weighs what she wants to say next. ] You okay?
[ It's almost disappointing Sharon lets it be, not because he wants to be pushed to talk about it but because it'd provide an excuse to snap and yell and shout and let loose the shit he's feeling on someone else. It's a bad instinct. It wouldn't help anything, and he'd feel guilty later.
He sits there in the empty treehouse and leans his head back. He shouldn't have opened that can of worms. Better to let it sit. ]
I mean, it could've been worse. I could've insisted we did this in person. [ And it would've been a very different conversation in person. It would've at least come with a hug, though. ]
[ Wolfwood groans. In person would be worse. Sharon wouldn't only hear how shit he feels but see it all over him. She'd watch him drink and maybe try to pull the bottle away from him. No, no, better they did it like this. ]
Small blessings. Far less likely if we lived in the same neighborhood.
No, no, we're not moving Vash away from his special plant friends here. I've been here over a year. It's plainly not happening.
[ As if Wolfwood would live in a treehouse for any other reason. He did not choose this housing for the setting. It beats Cruel Summer, sure, but that's not saying much. ]
I may not know a lot about plants, but I'm fairly sure these aren't the kind that like having their roots ripped out and moved around like someone's toy worm. [ Wolfwood knows there might be magic that can do something about that, if nothing else. Still. ] Vash likes it here.
Fine, I won't ask you guys to move closer so I have an easier time dropping by. [ ...as if she has a hard time now. It's nothing at all to make the trek as a coyote and is, in fact, enjoyable. ]
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You needed saving as much as he did. [ She says it sympathetically. He wasn't in any position to save Livio and that wasn't due to any fault of his own. ]
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It's the habit of not wasting anything, alcohol not being counted on to come again, that prevents him from smashing the bottle and spilling glass and booze around him. He can still see it happen. ] I was right there, and I couldn't save him.
[ Did Livio remember? Not be able to live with himself? By trying to save him did he damn him? There's no good answer. Thinking about it only makes him feel guiltier. ]
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That doesn't make it your fault. You know that, right?
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No one saved Livio. Livio died, and there was nothingβ ]
That doesn't, but it was my fault. I'm the reason he's dead.
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He only died because I tried to save him. I don't want to talk about it.
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That's fine. [ There's a long silence on her end as she weighs what she wants to say next. ] You okay?
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He sits there in the empty treehouse and leans his head back. He shouldn't have opened that can of worms. Better to let it sit. ]
Oh, I'm great. [ Obvious sarcasm. ]
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Small blessings. Far less likely if we lived in the same neighborhood.
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[ As if Wolfwood would live in a treehouse for any other reason. He did not choose this housing for the setting. It beats Cruel Summer, sure, but that's not saying much. ]
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I will.
I'll just bitch about it.
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