2023-06-26: Kindness, Justice or Neither?
- Log: 2023-06-26: Kindness, Justice or Neither?
- Cast: Sayla Mass, Anser Vulpecula
- Where: Merida Island
- OOC - IC Date: 21 July 0097
- Summary: A chance encounter leads Sayla to give Anser room to say everything she wants to about Char. The conversation does not go the way Anser expects- and neither can be shifted on the outcome they desire. Set a few days before 2023-06-23: VI. Re: I am.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
The Mithril Base on Merida Island had been seeing a lot more traffic since opening to the Shuffle Alliance. A fully functional military installation, hidden from prying eyes and accidental discovery though undersea entrances, camouflage, and the occasional bit of secret technology.
It was here that Sayla was requesting the services of Shuffle Mechanics to restore something that hadn't seen used in at least four years.
The transforming mobile fighter had been laid out in a hanger, as a psycommu system was fitted, old parts refreshed, mechanisms tested.
In exchange, she'd be going up with some of Mithril's people on a refitted Tausendfussler in a few days, to help get the Tuatha De Danaan's crew familiar with space for Tessa and Kaname's project.
With the initial psycommu tests done, Sayla made her wait out of the Hangars, and towards the mess hall. For all the calm she had been trying to provide, she was still worried. Of course she was.
There had been no trace of Leina yet. Not since the Garuda had been taking. Not since Casval had fught her over the seas.
And the Crest Holders and division leaders were still debating what to do with Casval, too. A man who had done so much harm to the Earth Sphere during the Axis Shock... And a man who had gone out, heavily wounded, to save his family. A man who had stood against the Titans, and aided the Zabi Family.
And Sayla was locked out, and for good reason. She had been proven too emotional, too close to the situation. Too prone to making reckless, selfish calls.
Wordlessly, she reached for the hip flask in her handbag, and moved to take a slug.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Though she may never appear sortied, having her own pair of wings does afford Anser a great amount of flexibility in moving about earth without much friction. Mostly, that's meant poking at the Unicorn whenever she has the ability to do so at the PPL, making more time-consuming stops back to Sweetwater for supply runs and routine maintenance on some of the repair-work she's done on the electrical grids there, but for the moment, she diligently answered the call to provide an extra pair of hands at Merida Island.
Not working on the craft - or at least not so far - but there to pick up the tasks of those who are. Her skills are broadly applicable, and her talents are noteworthy. There's a reason she'd been scouted by Neo-Zeon to begin with. A reason that Nanai Miguel worked so closely with her, and it wasn't for her warm and charming personality.
At least... that would have been a curious reason, indeed.
Professional. Punctual. Just not sociable, really. The sort of woman who makes her needs known on the job, but doesn't bother to strike up small talk, but will answer back if asked a direct question before putting her head back down to keep working.
Today isn't one of those days.
Unlike at the PPL, she's not been given as much control over her own schedule, which means fewer work hours and more free time to do things like... well, sleep. And have time off. It's perfectly clear that today's not a work day for Anser Vulpecula.
She's bucking the tradition of largely being caught directly on the way to or from work. The young woman's wardrobe (which usually consists of some combination of oil-stained coveralls, flight suits, or other utilitarian garb) has benefited greatly from this. Dressed down, she's wearing a loose-fitting boat-necked grey top that exposes much of her shoulders save for what's covered by a snug charcoal tank top. A burgundy skirt that's cut high is made decidedly less daring by black tights, its only objective to try to make her look taller than she is. It's not really working, but it sure is trying.
It's the choices of accessories that either bring the look together or destroy it entirely, depending on who's judging it, but that's fashion.
Deep brown reinforced work boots rise. Her frequently bare ears have dark grey studs at the lobe of both ears, and she's wearing a thin leather choker. Simple and fashionable, it reads as something a teenager would wear to look cool rather than making some sort of bolder public expression about her private life.
As Sayla approaches the mess, Anser's just stepping out of it. She's holding a plastic bottle of water by its neck between her index and middle fingers, and a small snack-size crinkly bag of popcorn between her ring and pinky finger. Her trajectory seems to be the opposite of Sayla's. Toward the hangar?
But then, well. Then, she spots the woman, and her gait changes... then she comes to a stop entirely.
Calm. Professional. Utterly frosty.
"Mass."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
The presence of someone there stops her in her tracks. The flask never quite reaches her lips. The cold pronouncement of her name draws her attention fully to Anser. "Miss Vulpecula."
She reseals the flask, and puts it back in her bag, but finding words takes more effort. She had definitely crossed a line, the day after Puru-1's identity had been revealed.
She'd also put so much effort into saving a man Anser clearly despised, that much of the world did. A mix of selfishness, and a desperate desire to keep her secrets. To not have to tell Leina- or anyone else ever again- about her connection to the Red Comet.
That layer of her identity was out to the entire world now, though.
"Do you..." The words falter, full of hesitation and uncertainty. She couldn't blame anyone for hating her brother. She could even understand a certain amount of disdain because she was his sister.
"...Do you have something you need to say?" She finishes, weaker than she had hoped. It was, ultimately a euphemism. A closer approximation of her intent would be 'Do you want to hit me with everything you've got?'
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
It's really... fleetingly uncommon that someone directly asks Anser to engage in this way. So much so that the question is returned to Sayla with an owlish blink at first. There would be plenty of coy ways to go about this. Plenty of passive-aggressive barbs that could be flung to inflict the appropriate level of hurt.
If nothing else, the young engineer doesn't stoop to that level. She stays within the bounds of simply conveying the truth. Her truth, at least.
"...Here? In the hallway? To someone who's effectively my commanding officer within this Alliance?" Her brows bounce, and she turns her head to the side. "...No, ma'am. I don't. There's a time and a place for everything. An order to things." Her eyes flit back to Sayla before she turns her head back, making her expression look pointed and sharp.
"...Here, in the hallway, I'm content to wish you a good meal, leave you to your drink, and go about my business."
Her shoulders hunch slightly upward, the oversized top shrugging slightly down one side of her shoulders as it moves off-kilter.
"But yes. I have a great many things to say to you, outside of the hallway to the Mess."
It's easy to imagine the subject matter of that particular conversation, given the way those bright red eyes are all but burning a hole into Sayla, at the moment. A shield of drilled-in propriety is the only thing holding her back.
It's plain to see that the structure life of the military agreed with her preferred method of social interaction. Brusque. To the point.
Her suggestions have been clinical and cold in the strategy meetings she's attended, but... well, irrefutably valid as those with the highest potential of carrying out the mission successfully. At the cost of Sayla's life, once. At the cost of Leina's life, another. And as for Char...
It's in her posture. Her gaze. Doubt. More, there's just... something heavy surrounding the engineer. It wasn't there when they'd met in Sweetwater, or it hadn't been felt, but... it's unpleasant. Like an outdated fluorescent bulb, buzzing. A surface level of quiet, but when focused on, it's just... a bad feeling. Like staring at a placid pond, knowing with full certainty that without so much as a ripple, something foul might appear at any moment.
It's dispelled at least a little by Anser reaching over with her other hand to pop the popcorn bag open. Crinkle crinkle. Cheddary popcorn delivered into mouth. Nom.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
The way Anser says that, Sayla can feel herself bristle. But Mithril is more military than most of the Shuffle Alliance. Anser, too, seems to fit in that category. She and Sousuke would probably interact excellently- if largely in silence
But she's not blind to the weight around Anser. That heavy feeling that permeates the air. The great many things she has to say.
"I see." Sayla responds, a slight sharpness to her voice. She doesn't proceed to the Mess. Instead, she walks forward down the hall, to an unoccupied meeting room. Secure. Frequently checked for bugs. Decently soundproofed in case of prying ears.
She opens the door, and steps in. "Then if you want to say them now, I'll be in here for the next ten minutes. If you don't, then you can organize another time when you're ready. If that's what you choose, then enjoy your break, Miss Vulpecula."
And then she leans on the table... and waits.
If ten minutes pass, Sayla will move on, true to her word. But she doesn't think it will come to that.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
She doesn't even have to wait a minute.
When Anser steps into the room, she sets down the bottle of water with a gentle thump of plastic on metal. The solid hunk of a meeting room table won't be moving anywhere fast. The bag of popcorn is crumpled into something that resembles closed, and it's set down after Anser turns to shut the door and engage the lock with a tap of the nearby pad.
With that settled, the short engineer drags a chair out from the table and drops into it, her eyes still burning a fiery hole into Sayla.
It... takes her some time to say the first word. In that yawning silence, that feeling remains. Being watched. But it twigs that very same feeling that comes with the territory of any event that a sensitive Newtype can pick up on. It's not just her anger, though that's present here. There's more going on, here, just... it's not showing itself.
Then, as expected, words begin to bubble up to the surface.
She sharply snaps her hand toward Sayla, index finger extended.
"How much of this do you expect any of us to stand by and quietly accept?, ma'am?" Anser's voice is not a placid thing, now - it's acerbic, scornful. Her lips are pulled back in an ugly snarl that highlight teeth that look particularly fangy in this rare moment of intense emotion. Her expression isn't muted, her facial features far from neutrality.
Her shoulders rise as she tightly grinds out, "It would be wonderful if we lived in a world where redemption was this easy. It would be. Where everyone could atone with simple acts for all of the lives they destroyed, simply because they were capable of helping to save a handful of people important to someone. If we could scrub our hands of the sins we committed, the sins we tried to commit."
She keeps her eyes locked on Sayla. "...What exactly are you thinking? Where exactly do you think this is going to go? What outcome do you think this holds for your brother?"
"And why," She slams her hand sharply down on the table. It makes a loud thonk that doesn't reverberate. It's a solid table. "And why the fuck do you think he's more important than the world he tried to kill? Because that's the message you're sending to your subordinates, Sayla Mass."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
She can feel that bubbling below the surface. There's definitely something else there, and whatever it is...
Sayla probably owes it to Anser to hear it.
To her credit, she doesn't flinch or try to avoid Anser's words. She lets her say her entire piece before responding at all. Letting the words sink in. Letting the emotions behind those words sink in.
There's so much anger there, certainly. But is that all there is?
She seems to sit with Anser's words for a while, her eyes closing.
What answer can she give that isn't some kind of cop out.
"...I won't deny my recent decisions have been personal, risky and made out of fear. If you think I am no longer suitable to lead, Red Joker or Miss Zabigov would hear you out fully." She shakes her head. "And if you can't accept my decisions, then it's your choice as to whether you still feel you can trust the rest of the alliance."
She pauses, slowly. That still doesn't feel right. But it's the most truthful answer she can give. "But you're right. Redemption doesn't come that easily. But no one can seek redemption if we put a bullet in their head and end it." Is this the sticking point? Is this what it's about. "Axis was his choice, Palau was not. His rescue of Mineva and Banagher makes me think he deserves a chance."
The third and fourth questions hit harder, though. "...I don't know. Maybe it does all end in a bullet to the head. Maybe it ends with him coming back to the person he was before, in some small way. Maybe he disappears beyond the belt again and dies in obscurity. I don't know." She doesn't have the usual confidence she has. The usual firmness of her voice. "But you would have us never know."
The final point, however... It doesn't feel that simple. "...Is this really about 'the world', Miss Vulpecula?" The world is such a hard thing to fight for. So large, and nebulous. The world, as an entity, is uncaring and callous. It's the people who are part of it who make things matter. "Or is this about someone or something more personal?"
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Anser waits as well. She may be seething, may be breathing a bit harder after getting that off of her chest, but she's still herself underneath of it all. She wants to trust in her authority figures. She wants that a great deal. She wants to understand the decisions. She wants to. She really, really wants to.
Keep it together, Vulpecula. Calm. Down.
But the calm doesn't come. Calm doesn't follow in the wake of a red comet.
The more Sayla makes a good faith effort to make herself understood, the more oppressive the room seems to feel.
Out it steps. Through the wall itself, leaving a trail of murk behind it - there. Not there. A beast, staring hard at Sayla with eyes red as burning embers, presenting a unified front with Anser. The shape is all but lost under a thick layer of roiling tar, but at a squint, it's a fox.
Anser's breathing only accelerates as Sayla finishes her final question.
The fox... doesn't move. It just stares, intensely.
Anser is far more animated.
She stands sharply up from the table, palms flat. "So he only tried to commit genocide just the one time? The second time he tried to commit genocide, someone or something was twisting his arm? Is that meant to make the first one better?"
She grinds her booted heel against the floor after a sharp stomp.
"Redemption isn't something so cheaply bought, and sometimes? It doesn't deserve to be. It shouldn't be. Should this be all it takes to earn forgiveness? Is this really all it takes? Promising you'll do better? Promising you won't try to annihilate Earth a third time?"
She takes a deep breath, but it's shaky, to match the unsteady clench of her fists. She's trembling. The iron grip she typically keeps on her composure has long since fallen, and now? It's spiraling further and further.
"It can be fucking both!" She takes a frantic step back and then jolts forward to grab her bottle of water, scrabbling with the screw-cap under her fingers. Slipping. When did her hands get so clammy? She finally gets it open, and takes a desperate drink, then sets it back on the table, for what little good it's done. She's still trembling.
Any composure she had left evaporates, her words spilling out more freely and desperately, allowing no time for retort. "I don't blame you for caring about your family, but I do blame you for caring so much that you're willing to forgive a war criminal. Let's not mince words - that is exactly what he fucking is, and if you think for one second that I'm going to stand by with a smile as you tell me that he has a place here? That we're meant to just watch as this happens? You've got another thing coming. All of these people have faith in you. All of these people are relying on you, and you -- you of all people should know better than this."
Her voice cracks, "This isn't how things are done, this isn't how things are supposed to happen, this isn't the natural order of things, justice ... Justice isn't supposed to work this way!"
Her eyes are wide now. It's not just anger anymore. She's so deeply frustrated that her eyes are starting to get wet.
"People who would tromp all over lives as if they were nothing, and... no. None of this makes any sense."
This is so, so clearly personal.
Utter silence from Anser's apparent 'companion'. The ferocity of its gaze remains, even as the typically-logical mechanic appears to be completely melting down.
Char does leave an impression, doesn't he?
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
The presence that oozes through the wall is unexpected. Startling. It draws Sayla's attention, her eyes flicking to it. Strong emotions can manifest powerfully, but this...
Anser's words drag her back. The venom, the anger.
"Something took away his free will entirely. The same way it took Amuro's. The way it took Renais's, and the rest of GGG. The same way it could have taken any one of us."
But she's right. It doesn't take the first one better.
The intensity of her emotions is overwhelming, as Anser lets all fly. She doesn't have time to speak, or get a word in edgewise, until Anser has said all her piece.
"...Justice isn't what we do." Sayla says, with a weight behind her words. "The 'natural order' is a cosmic force that brought him to put an end to this world. We don't live in a world of clear lines, and obvious solutions."
She sets her bag down, and speaks quietly, firmly. There's steel in her voice. "Where is your line, Miss Vulpecula. Our number are full of criminals. Argo's a pirate who worked the Earthsphere for years. Renais was trying to wipe out all organic life. The Maganacs have been doing hit and run raids on Federation assets. I work with smugglers and gunrunners on a weekly basis, and helped fund anti-Federation movements for years. Mithril is a mercenary army that answers only to itself. The Gridman Alliance did everything they could to save a girl trying to kill them."
Sayla steps forward towards Anser. "How far does your justice reach? Do we hang Argo for Piracy? Do we kill Renais for what she did against her will? Do we imprison me for my criminal connections? Do I tell the Gridman Alliance that Akane has to die for the people her kaiju killed? Do we put you away for your part in Axis?"
As she pushes back against Anser's words, there's something there. A fire of her own. "So yes. If someone comes to me with an earnest desire to make amends, a genuine wish to help people, to change this world for the better, I will work with them. Because that's what the Shuffle Alliance is, and has been for nearly four thousand years. And I know my predecessors would support me. I know the crest holders would make the same decision- because Domon did the same with Master Asia, at the end."
That final battle was sent to the entire world. So many people could have seen it.
"So yes. I will forgive a war criminal if they are genuinely willing to change. Otherwise we wouldn't be talking right now."
It's personal for her too, after all.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Cold. Calculating. Logical. Blunt. Difficult. Effective. Intelligent. Emotionless.
All things that Anser has been called more than a few times by those who've had dealings with her. None of them are wrong. She is very much all of those things, almost all of the time.
The ferocity with which she was comporting herself is spent - and it leaves her vulnerable to Sayla's follow-up barrage. Having burned through the entirety of her own ammunition in one go, there's little she can do but try to win a war of words when it's the opposite of her strong suit.
"I--" She's talked over, to great effect.
"M--" And again, her eyes widening then squinting.
The fox equivalent of a growl is not terribly imposing, but it's making discontented noises the closer that Sayla gets. Its teeth bare.
Do we put you away for your part in Axis?
Anser takes a step back, her eyes desperately closing.
Steady yourself. Trust in your justice. Trust what you know is true.
Her eyes snap open and she takes a step towards Sayla, then another. The space is closed, with the young engineer advancing quick as can be.
The fox readies itself to pounce, if it comes to blows.
"I. Trusted. HIM." She stops just shy of Sayla, her fists balled up. Up close as they are, the girl doesn't look like an engineer. She looks like... well, a short, posturing twenty-year-old. She looks up at Sayla, "I trusted him, and I followed him, and he... and he... and..."
Her head lowers. Her bangs are strewn messily over her eyes.
"He doesn't know I exist. I... thought that we'd... that... we'd... change the world for the better. T-t-t-that..."
It's not elegant.There's the sound of her choking through a running nose. A snork more than a sniffle. Her fist clenches, and unclenches.
"So many people... looked at the s-s-sky and... saw death coming for them, and it was him. It was us. It was me, and... it's his fault. I didn't... I just fixed things. I..."
Pat, pat.
The patter of moisture against the floor beneath her. The fox settles back onto its haunches and looks to the side.
Anser looks up, accusatory, fiery eyes gone. Softened. Full of tears. Her cheeks are stained with them, behind that paltry shield of her bangs.
"He. Tried to kill... everyone. Everyone I was fighting for to begin with, and... he made me complicit in his... in his... childish... stupid... illogical... I... I--"
Her head bows again and she shakes her head desperately. Her voice is breaking. Choked. So utterly small.
"...I could... I could live with it, while he was 'dead'. I... it still made sense, b-but..."
She bites her lower lip and raises her hands, scrubbing angrily at the tears as if doing that will make them stop. It doesn't. More take their place, and she buries her head fully into her hands. Her muffled voice is an anguished wail, "Why isn't he dead!?"
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Sayla doesn't step back as Anser steps forward again. She lets her close the distance. She can take a hit if need be- or a bite from this creature. But she won't back down.
Sayla was not expecting Anser to stop. She was not expecting Anser to admit the depths of the betrayal she felt.
It's subtle, but Sayla's stance softens. Her voice isn't as hard, or as forceful. The fire hasn't gone but...
Sometimes a fire is to burn someone. Sometimes it's for warmth.
"You weren't the only one." She says, simply, quietly. "It's not the same as to how I trusted him. I won't pretend it is. But it was a trust he betrayed." She pauses, slightly, a loose thread nagging at her.
"...Can I ask you, Anser... Does it feel the same as if you had killed them, the fact that you were a small part of almost doing so?"
She reaches into her handbag, and pulls out a handkerchief, setting it on the table next to Anser. She won't force her to take it, but it's there. Just in reach.
"...his stupid, selfish, suicide attempt, right?" That bond with Char... seeing him embracing his madness out of a misguided desire to protect his daughter. To avenge a girl who didn't want to be avenged.
"...if he was dead, that would be just, right? It would at least make it make sense?" She asks the questions earnestly, trying to find where Anser's brain is catching.
"The world isn't a just place. And I'd rather live in a kinder world than a just one, selfish as that is." She sighs. "So we live in the world where he lived. And we can either try and correct for justice... or we can try and be kinder, and keep doing the slow small changes that make the world a little bit better, even for one person. That's what we do." She pauses. "I won't ask you to make any choices right now. Just... take the time to think on if this is something you can accept."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
The young engineer's fingers curl inward, shoulders shaking as she tries to get her emotions in check, her breathing ragged.
The cracks in her armor - poorly maintained and covered messily in a patchwork of evasion of deflection - have left her clearly vulnerable, but the escape of those simmering emotions hasn't yet mended the hurt. Her vulnerability is perhaps unexpected, but she has yet to say a single word about accepting this situation.
Her fingers finally splay, and those tired, narrowed crimson eyes look out from between them, still leaking tears of obvious frustration. Her chest heaves with the weight of each choked breath, but all things are limited. She lets her hands drop, and as Sayla speaks, they gradually begin to dry up, leaving only the streaks on her skin.
When the tears abate, the Fox ceases looking away. It swings its head wide to stare at Sayla, no longer exuding menace, but just sitting there on its haunches. Waiting. Appraising. Agitated, but no longer showing outright aggression. That tarry substance dripping from its fur not evoking any sort of noxious smell.
No scent at all, really.
Anser listens, and stares at the handkerchief for quite some time before reaching up and taking it. Rather than tenderly dabbing it against her eyes, she uses it like one might an oil cloth - shoving her whole face into it and rubbing away from the eyes outward. Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are gleaming but no longer spilling over. Her lips are still trembling, pulled taut into a quavering frown.
"He betrayed more than you. More than me." She sniffs, and her fists tighten up again... but they're still trembling. She's not shattered, but she's shaken. The question about her own responsibility sees those red eyes narrowing further, the expression she wears nothing less than scarcely contained anguish.
An echo. 'XO on deck! Crewman 2nd Class Vulpecula, ma'am. Adjustments are all made, ma'am. MSN-04 Sazabi, ready to sortie. NZ-333 Alpha Azieru, ready to sortie. Ma'am, I...' Some emotion leaking into those last two words. Reluctance. Then... a pregnant pause, a course-redirect, and the same voice continues on. 'All Units ready to sortie, ma'am!'
"If he were dead, it would be Just. It would make sense. Yes. Justice is a kindness to those who've been wronged." She stomps her foot, forcefully grinding out through her frayed emotions. "...Kindness doesn't exist without Justice. In that sort of world, the good die and monsters get to live, running ramshackle through our lives, ruining everything, feeding everyone lies and getting away with it."
A nauseating jolt. Frayed wires, not evenly cut, but haphazardly ripped. Sparking. A low hiss. Gone as soon as it's glimpsed. As soon as it's felt?
Anser cups her hands, and closes them on top of one another, like completing a circuit. "...Justice can be Kindness. They coexist. It's not-- it's not binary. You don't have to choose one path at the expense of another. You don't. I--you don't."
She's struggling so hard to keep her emotions in check. It's not working as well as she'd like.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
'Justice is a kindness to those who have been wronged.'
The words sit with Sayla, as Anser says her piece. "... He did. The ideal situation would be to ask those he wronged most what they want done. I have to hope that's one of the things the other commanders are doing."
Sayla's attention turns briefly to the fox as it watches her. What was this creature that was appraising her so. A manifestation of the young woman's emotions? Some latent psychic presence? Or something like the demon Amuro saw come from Dozle Zabi?
"...I don't believe that to be true, Miss Vulpecula. I find kindness and justice often stand at odds with each other. Sometimes they're mutually incompatible. Sometimes neither is possible, for that matter."
She crosses her arms. "...I ask again, where does justice end for you? Would all truly be resolved if he dies?" Sayla drums her fingers lightly on her arm. "And do you truly believe that monsters can't thrive in a just world?" A flash of anger and despair crosses Sayla's mind, even as her face tries to hide it. Justice decided that the man who turned Leina into a weapon, and nearly did the same to Rikka got to simply exist in prison.
"...I have no say in the decision anymore, if that gives you any comfort. As I said, Miss Zabigov would hear you in full, and what you need to say would go to the leadership." Her tone is more level this time. She's doing the best she can to be fair, to not just shove Anser off. "...She's a former Neo-Russian Prison Warden. Justice was her business, for a time."
Not that what Neo-Russia had done was just. But if anyone would think the way Anser does, it would be her.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Whatever origin or motive the fox holds, its silence and relative inaction doesn't seem to make it any easier to ascertain. But one thing seems certain - Anser isn't reacting to it in the slightest. Not one whit.
As for Anser Vulpecula, the woman stands in silence, even in her simmering state of anger, she looks utterly spent. Working this hard, working this long - effectively taken advantage of by Neo-Zeon and then spending the subsequent years laying low? She's been through more than many her age, even if it's not quite on the same level as the soldiers and pilots conscripted too young, fighting too young, dying too young.
She extends her hand to offer the handkerchief back - it's damp with her tears, but little else. Anser offers it without gratefulness in her expression. With a growing rigidity to her posture again. Walls starting to piece themselves back together. "...You are kind, Sayla Mass. But his fate? His justice? It's not the Shuffle Alliance's to decide. We're harboring a war criminal that tried to demolish the very place we hold this conversation."
Her hands square low onto her hips, and she squares her jaw, "...Justice on the battlefield would have been if someone had put a bullet into your brother, Ms. Mass." She looks to the side and murmurs, "...But now? He should be judged by those he tried to murder." She points at the ground. "The governments of Earth should decide his fate. Not our Alliance. Not even this Miss Zabigov."
"They-- the world doesn't just forget what he tried to do, even if each and every one of us were willing to." She's clearly not. At all. "And as for the implications of our alliance, if we forgive C-Char," She scrubs a hand angrily past her eyes when she stammers, trying hard to banish the intrusive emotion, "...what other crimes will we allow?"
She looks back to Sayla. "If one of our enemies put a gun against Leina's head, and their firearm jammed, would you forgive them, or would you gun them down? If one of our number placed a bomb on board Mithril's TDD-1, but it was defused before it had time to explode, would you expect them not to exact punishment?" Her shoulders lift. "It's..."
She swallows, her throat dry.
"I've been part of a group that threw morality to the side when it was convenient before, ma'am. And before you ask, yes. If it was asked of me, I would stand trial for my part. Youthful indiscretions or not, I was made a terrorist. That is who I am. As for what I am not?"
She looks down, "...I'm not someone who would deny another person closure. Deny them justice."
"Without that..."
"Without that," Anser whispers, "...How can anyone move on? Rainbows don't erase our sins, however much we wish it were true. There is no such miracle as that."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Expecting gratefulness in this situation would be too much.
"...Handing him over to the federation wouldn't see justice done." Sayla's voice firms up, again. "It would lead to a kangaroo court from a corrupt system. The REA would love the distraction from it's crimes. The BU would happily hold a public execution with popcorn and fireworks." There's a hardness there.
"You know how Char got Axis in the first place, don't you? The Federation sold it to him, for briefcases full of gold they could line their pockets with. Those same people are still in charge of the system you would entrust to do justice. Do you think any trial the federation ran would be just, seeing what you've seen? Do you really think they are so different from Zeon?"
But Anser then steps on a minefield. "Leina already *has* a gun to her head. That neurotoxin waiting to be applied to her brain. The commands put in her head by Murasame that could make her fight me to the death if I tried to save her." The anger rises in her voice again. "A part of me is screaming to end them both- but I won't. Not until Leina's home again, not until she and Rikka can make their own decisions again. And if they ask me not to kill them... then I won't."
She stares down at Anser, even as the mechanic steels herself. "Death doesn't clear sins away. Death is an easy way out. Sometimes it's necessary. We're harboring multiple war criminals, Miss Vulpecula. But you're focused entirely on one."
Sayla reaches for her bag, looping it over one arm. "You made a choice, Miss Vulpecula. You could have left after the first drops. But you didn't. Maybe you were too young to realize fully what you were doing, but ultimately, you made a choice. So did every person who joined with him. He didn't come up with his plan alone. He had officers and generals who supported and strategized with him."
It's clear from her body language that Sayla is preparing to walk away. There is anger rolling off Sayla. "Nanai was his second in command. She is trying to make up for her role in things. How is it just that she gets to do that, and my brother does not?"
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
There's a noticeable twitch of Anser's fingers as the cadence of the conversation becomes sharper. More incisive. If she'd been expecting anything less after the invocations of wishing a bullet for Sayla's brother or reminding her of Leina's current situation, that much would have been a grave miscalculation.
"You should be focusing on him. He is the worst this planet has seen. And no amount of sentiment is going to spirit his crimes away. There is no storybook ending where I wasn't a fool of a child, and where I get to wash my hands of everything. I can't. There's no storybook ending where he is forgiven, and you get your brother back. There. Is. Not. And there shouldn't be."
She sees the trajectory of Sayla's body language. Gathering her things. Recognizing, perhaps, that this is going in circles. Anser still presses forward.
"I made choices. I was scared. I didn't have a home to go back to. I wanted..." She closes her eyes tightly and her teeth sink into her lower lip so hard that there are indents when her eyes snap open again.
"I will not justify it. And you're right. Death does not sweep away sins. It prevents more of them from accumulating. Your brother held a gun to the head of every person on this planet. So if you have even the barest inkling of wishing to kill those who hold Leina captive? Then you know. You know the accumulation of those feelings, and it's not your place to deny them out-of-hand because of your kindness."
She doesn't get in Sayla's way.
The fox is baring its teeth again, but this time, it's at Anser's legs - its jaws, dripping heavily with that disgusting ichor, open wide - and clamp down tightly on Anser's thigh.
She doesn't notice. Of course she doesn't. But her hand seems to be fidgeting at her hip... but her fingers curl back, and she snaps with words instead, her eyes alive with fatigue, with fury, with agony, with ... fear. Yes. It's fear.
"And you're making a choice now! You're making a choice. If I could go back, if I could slap the girl I was, prevented her from ever getting on the shuttle, prevent her from thinking she had no choice once a line had been crossed, prevented her from being too scared to act when she was on the Rewloola, prevented her from a complict coward, then I would! I regret all of those moments! I can't ever take them back, I can't ever take them back, but you still can! You can still stop this. We can still stop this. This moment. This one. Right here. Right now. And you won't... you won't let me!"
It's personal. Of course it is.
Her nostrils flare, and she again stamps her foot, even with the fox's jaws latched firmly onto her leg.
"Throw Nanai in my face. Throw my sins in my face. I'll weather it. Just. Don't. Let him do this all over again!" Her voice cracks.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Anser's feelings are loud, for someone who isn't a newtype. "...No. He's not." Sayla shakes her head. "He's one of many. You just haven't seen them." There's no doubt at what Sayla's saying. "Did you ever see the work Zonderians, turning people into giant weapons, trying to turn every human on earth into a breeding ground for Zonderians? The Primevals? Zonuda?" Sayla's own hand balls into a fist.
"What about the Dinosaur Empire who crawled out of the bowels of the earth, and killed 90% of New Yark's population in one day, so that the only way of stopping them was reducing the city to a crater? What about Dr Hell, a man who held the entire earth to ransom that the federation are trying to cosy up to? A man who spent nearly a decade unleashing mechanical horror after horror on this world?" She has no time for the fox right now.
"Or BioNet, who torture people and turn them into weapons for profit or 'the good of science'? What about the Titans, who were just as eager to oppress the people of Earth as they were the people of space? Who paved the way for everything that came after. Who created the cyber newtype programs that took so many lives and destroyed so many others!"
Her voice keeps rising. "What about Master Asia? What about the man who betrayed the Shuffle Alliance, who killed so many people that I trusted, worked with? One of the men who weaponized the Devil Gundam, who infected so many with DG Cells and we had to put them down before we had a cure? The man who drove his former allies to kill themselves saving the people in charge today? He was going to wipe out everyone on Earth! He was a good man once, and he got twisted into a genocidal maniac!" She's nearly shouting now.
"You think my brother's the worst this planet has ever seen? Not even close. He's not even the first to nearly wipe out life on this planet with a god damned asteroid."
She walks for the door, but doesn't open it yet. "Neo Zeon was the fifth extinction event that the Earth had faced in less than ten years. I know because I lived through them. I saw so many of them first hand." She doesn't bother to hide her anger now.
She turns back towards Anser. "I have no intention of letting my brother go down that path again. There are ways other than just killing him. If all you can see is the bloody path, then it's not justice you're after. The path you're pushing for, be it out of vengeance or fear, will only leave you empty. It will tear you apart, the way it's doing right now." Her eyes latch onto the fox that Anser doesn't seem to see as real, before finally pushing open the door.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
There's plenty of parting barbs that Anser could leave Sayla to stew over - the young woman's practiced them over and over again, practiced this conversation over and over again.
In her practice, she'd been calm and collected. Sayla had been more persuadable, and in the end? Neither of those things had been the way things played out. Given time enough, she could likely refute the claims that Sayla's making.
Poke holes in the logic. All of it would fall apart just as soundly as it's done here, because Sayla has a point about her motives. But none of that comes to be as the door opens. As Sayla walks through it.
But when that door opens, she opens her mouth and nothing comes out. No barbs. No incisive language. No parting quips, no parting insults. She doesn't draw her sidearm in hotblooded rage. All that Anser Vulpecula does is crumple like a marionette with its strings cut. Crumple down to her hands and knees, her bangs falling into disarray and settling over her eyes. Chokes on a frantic breath. Tries to hold back the tears.
It's too late for all of that. Logic? Composure? In the reckoning of the world, she's little more than a child, and in this moment, she acts it - more than she's allowed herself to in a half-dozen years. It's not until the door is closing behind Sayla that the frustrated, terrified, agonized wailing starts, and the soundproofing cuts off the rest from the departing Sayla Mass.
What happens after is left only to the fallen 'Chariot', and the fox who seems to stand vigil over her in defiance of her lack of Newtype abilities - a contradiction that shouldn't be there.
Like a fresh-faced young engineer on the Rewloola.
And maybe... like a cynical engineer in the Shuffle Alliance.
The door stays closed.