Amaimon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2012-02-01 09:22 pm
earthking) wrote in bakerstreet2012-02-01 09:22 pm
the betrayal/redemption meme
BETRAYAL MEME
You have done something unspeakable to the people closest to you. How did this come to be, and how will you make amends?
Instructions
Post with your character with their name, series, and whether you're the betrayer, the betrayed, or simply leave it blank! Then, either make up your own scenario to your liking, or use our prompts (RNG totally optional) and go wild!
(Example: for organization's sake, denote b3+2 where you killed someone and are trying to hide it or r5+3 for a situation where you side-hopped and now want nothing more than to make things right, so that people know at a glance whether you're betraying or being redeemed and what you did.)
betrayal; you've turned your back on everything you once stood for
1) you're innocent. it's not your fault, but they can never know. maybe you're protecting someone. maybe you're being blackmailed. whatever the case, it's your dark secret.
2) you're hiding. you've done something terrible, but no one knows it yet. how far will you go to bury what you've done for good?
3) you're uncertain. everything is in place now, but nothing's been set into motion yet. maybe it's not too late to turn back. or is it?
4) you're slipping. you thought you could change. maybe for a while you even managed to. but now you find yourself falling back to your old ways, and everyone around you is at risk.
5) you're reacting. they betrayed you first. you're not in the wrong. they deserve this. they brought this upon themselves. you're not really betraying anyone if they pushed first.
redemption; you've done something that can never be forgiven
1) you're trapped. they caught you red-handed, or maybe you turned yourself in. now those you betrayed are free to face you one by one and have their revenge.
2) you're false. this whole betrayal thing isn't working out quite the way you'd hoped. maybe if you play your cards just right, you'll be able to get your old life back.
3) you're selfless. whatever forced your hand to begin with doesn't matter anymore. you'll destroy yourself and play the role of a villain to the very end if that is what it takes to make things right.
4) you're lost. what you did was wrong, and you know that now. you can never be sorry enough, and you've lost your way. all you want to do is find home. won't anyone out there show you the way?
5) you're tortured. you have to make amends for what you've done. you have to. the thought consumes you, possesses you. you have to find them, help them. but after what you've done, will they even want to see you again?
what you've done;
1) you sold them out
2) you killed
3) you joined the other side
4) you stole
5) you lied
6) you simply are. you were never 'good' to begin with.
no subject
It's cool, I'm more than happy to thread with you! :D You're welcome to roll for Kuja. If you have any other ideas, though, I'm open to just about anything. We can always do something post-game, because that is a lot to make amends for right there.]
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r4+all applicable numbers for Kuja
----
The last thing Kuja can remember is thinking how foolish Zidane is, how laughably unlike they are. One is a golden child, coveted by everyone Kuja has ever known. A thief and a saint, an actor whose heart is ever pinned to his sleeve. A walking mess of contradictions, who somehow through sheer virtue of being managed to be more than Kuja ever was even in spite of all of Kuja's torturous struggling to be something, anything more than he was. More than he is.
Kuja hasn't the faintest idea who or what he even is anymore. A failed destroyer of worlds. A fallen angel of death. Purposeless and meaningless, spent of his usefulness to anyone.
No, that's not entirely true. He has some small idea of who he is still.
He's pathetic. And worthless. He is less than nothing, and yet the unabashedly stupid golden boy still turned back to risk his life for him. Even now, Kuja can say without a shadow of doubt that if his life was not already effectively at an end, he would not have been so selfless in saving Zidane and his friends. He is not that kind of person.
He really, honestly hates Zidane at the end of the day. One-upping Kuja's one selfless act like this, made all the worse by the fact Kuja knows Zidane did it only out of the goodness of his wretched little heart.
He shuts his eyes, hears a strangely distant sound like an explosion. Then he feels something heavy on him and it's all he can do to smile. Stupid, wretched little boy.
Don't you realize there's nothing left here to protect?
Much to his own surprise, he finds himself waking again. It's quiet save for the faint rattling of the wind, and then Kuja opens his eyes, he finds himself on a poorly cobbled bed in ruins that are strangely familiar to him. There's a faint pang of anxiety in his heart, and that alone tells him that he is still alive. Life has always been little more than an endless orchestra of fear for him, and there is no reason now should be any exception.
He's sore, but not so sore that he can't at least try to feign composure and so he has himself sit up slowly, fingers going to work out the tangles in his hair. His clothes are torn, likely beyond repair. Ah, well. He wasn't wearing very much to begin with.
Finally he glances around, wondering if he is alone. He would deserve it, surely, but perhaps--
Perhaps Zidane wouldn't trust him alone just yet. Perhaps--
...mm, it's a bit early for blind optimism. Kuja scolds himself inwardly, then clears his throat to call out. ]
Hello? Is anyone there?
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[He hadn't known what to expect when he'd gone after Kuja. He hadn't had a plan, because he hadn't thought it out beforehand, yet he'd rushed in anyway. He'd gone back because what he had known was that it had been the right thing to do, no matter what anyone else said about it. Kuja had saved them, so how could he have left him there?
He'd meant what he'd said, every word. No one was useless, and Kuja didn't deserve to die.
Zidane had gone down there in the full knowledge that he might die with him, that he might never see his friends again, but how could he live and be happy knowing he'd let that happen to someone else, without even trying to help? He couldn't. He wouldn't have been himself, if he had. So he'd gone, and he'd faced the greatest test of his thief's ability. He'd used all his strength and all his skill. Zidane was a great thief, and he'd stolen away Kuja from death. Or maybe he had. He'd gotten them out from under the tree by some miracle, but Kuja hadn't woken up yet, and Zidane wasn't sure when he was going to, or if he was. Yet he wasn't dead, and that was important. He was breathing. He might come back.
When Zidane was thinking of a good place to take Kuja, somewhere he could hide him, Madain Sari had come to mind. It was quiet, isolated, and there was shelter for them there. It was an odd place to shelter Kuja, of all people, and this was a responsibility he'd never thought he'd take on, but Zidane was growing used to things not turning out as he'd expected they would.
Now, with Kuja safely inside, away from everyone who might want to hurt him (because he sure isn't a popular guy right now), there's little for Zidane to do but wait. He's weary, and his body aches, and part of him wants to leave, but he can't leave. Some things you have to do--your heart won't let you do otherwise--and this is one of them. He doesn't care how long it takes. He'll stay here, until Kuja wakes up, or until it's definite that he won't.
Evening's nearing, and the horizon's turning pink and gold, casting a reddish light across the rocks. Zidane's sitting right outside the ruin where he set up camp, watching the sun set. When he hears that voice, inside, something in him leaps up, and then he leaps up, too. It's not as if he isn't angry, or sad, or hurt by the things that Kuja did, but that isn't all he feels. He turns and all but runs inside.]
Kuja. [Zidane smiles, pausing in the doorway, taking in the sight of his brother, eyes open and sitting up.] You're awake.
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[ There's a moment of stunned silence on Kuja's part as Zidane darts in at the sound of his voice. What... is that, even? That eagerness, that carefree smile as though Zidane is not staring down the brother who betrayed him, who tried to kill him more times than either of them can count. The brother who destroyed their home world and tried to destroy everything that Zidane held dear.
And Zidane is simply--
Standing there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Smiling at him. Kuja doesn't think... anyone's ever smiled at him quite like that.
It's too bright somehow. Kuja looks away, down at the faded blankets twisted in his lap. ]
What is this dreadful hovel? You're not trying to torture me by making me live out whatever paltry sum is left of my days here, are you?
[ Kuja makes a show of wrinkling his nose at being tucked away in these ruins, but that's only because he has no idea how else to act. He considered himself a master manipulator, a chameleon who could assume the guise of whatever role he had to play to get to where he needed to be and yet--
And yet...
This all feels a little too honest for him. He's out of his element here with Zidane, who knows him and everything he's done. Who sees right through him, likely sees right through him even now. ]
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We're in Madain Sari. [He glances at the walls and roof. It's true, this place doesn't have the nicest accommodations available, but they'll do.] I tried to find the best house I could. Yeah, maybe it's not the fanciest, but it's not too bad, right? [He pats the nearest wall.] Look, nice and solid.
[He sobers, then. He knows this is weird. He feels weird. Most of his experience with Kuja has involved Kuja trying to kill him, or at the very least, do something else awful to him or one of his friends. It's different, interacting with him like this.]
I'm not going to torture you, Kuja. [Not only would he never do that to anyone, but based on what he knows, Kuja's been tortured enough. If Zidane had been brought up as he was "supposed" to be, he probably would have been the one trying to kill his friends.] But you know that. [He wasn't the kind of person to save someone only to punish them, and Kuja was smart enough to realize that, he was sure. It was true that he wasn't sure what to do with Kuja at this point, but he was going to have to figure something out.
A paltry sum... He doesn't like Kuja talking about dying. He's not going to let that happen. He didn't back and the Iifa Tree, and he's not going to now. He frowns.]
I'm gonna help you, got that?
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Is there a hairbrush somewhere by chance? I could really use one. And shouldn't you be getting back to Alexandria, or wherever it is you go these days? Your little comrades will be wondering where you went.
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I can't be too smart. I've gotta give you something to complain about, right?
Hairbrush, hmm. [Zidane purses his lips, thinking for a minute. In all the tumult of rescuing Kuja and bringing him here, he hadn't stopped to think about his hair. Not that he never thinks about it, because girls like a guy with nice, clean hair they can run their fingers through.] Think I've got something... [He checks through his possessions, and each one of his pockets, until he manages to come up with a comb. It's just an ordinary comb, nothing special. Not exactly a brush, but it's something, and he hands it over, with a triumphant smile.] Here you go!
[It's only then that he answers Kuja's other question.] My friends'll be fine. They can take care of themselves. I'll meet up with them later.
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And of course, in spite of his complaints a comb is still better than nothing and so Kuja begins to gingerly work it through the tangles in his poor dirty, matted hair. He supposes he'll have to look seriously into a bath of some sort once he gets rid of his brother somehow. One thing at a time now. ]
What do you even hope to accomplish here, Zidane? I'm alive. You've succeeded. I doubt there's a soul on all of Gaia stupid enough not to kill me on sight, and my days are woefully numbered anyhow.
[ He pauses, voice quieting just slightly. ]
You should go. You'll only be wasting your time here.
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I didn't exactly think to pack a whole beauty kit, Kuja. But nothing's wrong with my hair--it matches my tail, see?
[He turns slightly and raises his tail, hoping to provide further cause for amusement/scorn.
...and Kuja's still talking about dying. Of course. He's so damn stubborn, but Zidane can be just as stubborn.]
I told you, I'm not going to let you die. What part of that don't you understand? And I'm not going to leave you anywhere. If someone wants to kill you, they'll have to get through me first.
[And that's that.]
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This isn't for you or me to decide. I-- [ His voice cracks slightly, and his grip on the comb tightens to the point that his knuckles go white. ] I'm dying. The entirety of my lifespan has run its course. There is nothing to be done about it, and you can't possibly stand sentry here against death itself. It's futile, Zidane. Go home to your princess.
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[Garland--he'd made them to be nothing but tools, to destroy, and it makes him angry to think of that, of Kuja having to live like that his whole life. All alone... It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. His face feels hot, and his eyes sting.]
What he gave us doesn't matter. What we make for ourselves, that's what matters.
Anyway, if it is true... That's all the more reason I can't leave you alone. [He doesn't want it to be true, but if it is, no one should have to die alone. Especially not his own brother. It's not that he doesn't want to see Garnet, but that can wait. He thinks she'll understand, why he had to do this.] So I guess you're stuck with the stupid one for a while.