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[strength_of_will]

[ There's a sombre-looking William on the feed today. He looks a little worn from fighting off the creatures, but otherwise mostly unharmed as far as anyone can tell. He's only sorry he's interrupting all the attempt at holiday cheer. ]

I understand that there's been a call for retribution - or justice, some might call it - against the people of Rumpitur. I'm here to ask you all to take a step back and show some compassion and understanding. It is neither fair nor just to accuse an entire village of wrongdoing when they act out of fear or desperation. Who amongst you wouldn't have done the same in their position?

I propose we slay the creature terrorising their village. We were hard-pressed simply to escape from its minions, but I believe that if given time to prepare and coordinate, we can surely defeat it. Once it's gone, the people of Rumpitur can live normal lives.

Comments

[strength_of_will]

No, it doesn't. I think you're confusing my being compassionate with being lenient.

Understanding why someone acts the way they do doesn't necessarily mean that they're forgiven. The world isn't a binary of 'good' people and 'bad'; people are selfish, mean, greedy, abusive - I don't think I've met a single person who is completely perfect. I'm certainly not. You say it's unforgiveable to sacrifice others to save your own life but many do that every day by slaughtering livestock for their meals. Do you think it would somehow be better if the people of Rumpitur had lain on the beach and let the monster take them, like livestock?

We're only human - or rather, mortal, I suppose - and it's mortal nature to want to grasp tightly to life. The people of Rumpitur, for their own reasons, decided to save themselves by offering others in their place. But none of them took any joy in it. That's enough for me to decide that I'll remove the source of their terror so that they don't have to make the choice to sacrifice someone else again. Having to live with the wrongs they've committed is enough punishment for a lifetime.

[entreats]

.. why do you say that?

[ She was quiet for a moment, even after the other finished. At least it seems like Ange does have enough tact to actually listen to the other until William finished, rather than interrupting the other right away. ]

"It's mortal nature to want to grasp tightly to life".. Why do you think that?

[strength_of_will]

[ He hopes he didn't say too much. He's conscious of the fact that some may not appreciate his words even though he holds firm to his convictions. ]

Because I've seen what happens when the living depart too soon. The god of undeath takes those who have had unfair deaths and makes a bargain to give them another chance as the undead. Maybe you don't have an equivalent phenomenon where you're from, but in my world, priests like myself need to help such lingering spirits pass on.

I know you might ask, "But what about those who have given up on life?" I know; I used to be one of them. However, I don't think anyone reaches that stage unless something or someone pushes them there over time. I'll stretch out my own hand to help them before that happens if I can.

cw: discussion of suicidal ideation

[entreats]

[ She huffs out a breath of air through her nose - though it isn't powerful enough to truly sound judgemental. ]

Helping those people isn't as easy as you think.

[ Not to mention that help for those people isn't so common in the first place, but if William is really telling himself he'll help all people out there like that, she'll let him. ]

For one, there's no way back once you reach that stage. Why would anyone who's given up on life want to go back to life after all?

[strength_of_will]

[ He shakes his head. ]

If you mean the undead, no, I can't give them back their lives. I can only help them accept their regrets and send them on to their next life. But for those still among the living, sometimes it's just a matter of giving them a purpose. In the same way that Gracefeel guided me to my new family, I hope that I can help others see that they're not alone. I'll help light a path ahead for them to walk. All they have to do is keep taking another step.

[entreats]

.. you think no one is alone?

[ It's a bit of a difficult topic for her.

But Ange doesn't betray as much, even if it takes a conscious effort to do so. Maybe it's why she suddenly is saying a whole lot less, when it's taking more effort to keep her voice relatively neutral and emotionless about it in the first place. ]

[strength_of_will]

[ He considers his response carefully, speaking slowly. ]

I think...that no-one should be alone. But it's easy to believe that you are when times are hard.

[ Bee's words come to mind suddenly. ]

A bard I know makes it her life's mission to compose ballads of the lives of fallen heroes. Not heroes with grand reputations but ordinary, everyday adventurers who put their lives on the line for others. She told me it's because she can't bear the thought of their names fading into obscurity, especially when their lives are taken so suddenly. These are people who would never be known outside of their own villages or towns but, because they happened to meet a wandering bard, their names will live on in song.

My point is: our lives always touch others in some way. I don't think it's possible to be truly alone.

[entreats]

[ The girl is quiet.

It's a strange thing, imagining that it could be enough to have your life touch someone else's in that sort of way. Are there people out there who truly feel that way? Ange doesn't think the other is making up, he clearly isn't lying, but it could be that he just has the wrong sort of belief about this kind of thing. Ange can't imagine that thought ever being enough to carry on.

She doesn't voice it.

Instead, when she speaks up again, she just says: ]

I have to go.

[ It doesn't sound hurried or pressed, so maybe she doesn't actually have anywhere to go-- but the girl shuts off the feed regardless.

It's just that she can't talk about this. Sorry, William.. ]