ruinsprofessor

[That's... a lot. Raine follows the narrative, watching him with the particular sort of intent that says she is memorizing, that she is going to come back to this again and again until every last scrap of meaning has been teased from it. For now, however, one thing sticks out, and it's probably for the best she put the coffee down.]

You-- gave him your... But that's--

[Congratulations, Bakura, you've stumped her for forming complete sentences with how ridiculous that was. He gave something he calls an evil god part of his soul, and then spent the best part of three thousand years sealed with it. Raine can't even begin. She considers, briefly, slapping him again, but the trouble is she can see very clearly how desperation and being so alone would have led Bakura right to that.]

[Did he never stop to think that maybe he was worth more than just an instrument of vengeance? Raine is equal measures horrified and furious and something approaching offended, both by him and on his behalf, and the end result is that she just keeps staring at him for a long moment.]

You idiot.

[But she closes her eyes, and scrubs a hand across her face, and when she looks at him again it's a studying look.]

Why tell me all this now? Full disclosure was hardly necessary.

[ He doesn't respond to her mild epithet, in fact he barely reacts to it. There's something exhausted in his eyes, like the weight of both keeping this vague, and telling her, has hit him all at once. ]

Because you should know.

[ You should know who you're spending your care on, and what I am. ]

And I should have told you sooner.

[It's a peculiar thing to think they once approached each other so cautiously, circling like wary fighters around the outskirts of exspheres and the Ring, and Bakura's now telling her he should have disclosed the depths of his history sooner. That's care, Raine thinks, or as much as he knows how to express it, that he doesn't want to hide from her.]

[It doesn't mean she knows what to do with what he's handed her, but that tempers it, somehow.]

[Raine picks up her coffee again. Leans against the counter.]

Do you have regrets?

[It's not an idle question, but a relatively calm one, under the circumstances.]

[ Bakura's almost forgotten that he's holding his own cup of coffee, strangely steady through the whole thing. He suspects it will taste bitter at the moment, and not in any way due to the roast. ]

Only that I didn't win.

[She doesn't know what she expected. She laces her fingers a little tighter on the mug, glances down at it only to drag her gaze back up to look at Bakura's face. Reading him is no easier than it's ever been, but she pushes.]

Because that would have made the sacrifice worth it?

That wasn't why I needed to win.

[ But it's a mild rebuke, and the need to win is more telling than the correction. He doesn't think she's misunderstanding, just that she's putting the emphasis on the wrong thing. ]

But yes, it would have been... better, to not have done it all for naught.

That's why I had to go back. The duel I had been in the middle of, the Pharaoh's soul and mine, playing the ultimate shadow game. The winner would get to rewrite history; I could've made it so Kul Elna had never fallen, that the Items had never existed. Except this time around, I had no Diabound to give Zorc, so I gave him myself -- past and future both.

Instead, the Pharaoh got extra help from his vessel and his friends, and he recovered his name and memory at the last minute. He summoned Horakhty, the god of light... and that was it.

[ And Raine had seen what primeval Light would do to the Ring; indeed, the conversation had come full circle back around to the light contained in Valdis' sword. ]

Edited 2015-08-13 10:39 (UTC)

[She would ask if there were any other phenomenally foolish choices he feels the need to get off his chest now, but... that was the end of that, wasn't it.]

[Diabound is a name she plans to remember.]

You idiot.

[She's aware she's already informed him of this, but there's something profoundly helpless about the way she says it now. There aren't enough words to measure either the drive he has or the bounds of his foolishness, so far as she's concerned, and so she is reduced to giving her coffee a look as though it's done something to personally offend and sadden her.]

[He's dead, after all.]

I understand... some of your choices. Not everything. [She might never. Still, it isn't a push for more, just an explication of where they are.] Perhaps enough.

[She's not sure she wanted to know this, but she can acknowledge that she may have needed to.]

Perhaps enough.

[ He echoes the words, weary, and decides it's fine. Three repetitions on idiot in the same afternoon is getting a bit much, however. It's still better than he'd have hoped for, if he'd had the sense to realize this visit might have played out in any way like this. It was probably, given the nature and scope of the things he'd just revealed to her, better than he'd deserved.

In the sudden quiet of the kitchen, he's run out of things to say. ]

[He's given Raine the no-stops tour of his most horrible choices. She doesn't know what he expected. She doesn't know what she expected. In the quiet she sips her coffee, tries to settle the emotional turmoil into something a little more sensible.]

[All she can seem to focus on is how tired he seems, and she knows the rest needs to be given careful consideration, as objectively as she can, but it's still all tied up in the rest of the day's feelings, the relief that he's alive and the anger at his aforementioned horrible choices. Raine sets her coffee down again -- there's only a little left, anyway -- and moves a few paces toward Bakura, reaching out to cover his hands on his mug. It's a gentle, careful thing, but no less present.]

I don't know. I need to think about this-- you've told me a lot.

['I don't know' covers just about everything right now. It's honest. It's also all she has at the moment. Except:]

...will you come to dinner, later?

[ Raine, those were only the chapter titles of his horrible choices in life and beyond. There's whole pages of them still buried. Although at least, none of the others rivalled these in terms of scale. ]

That's fine... I hadn't meant to.

[ Originally, when she'd came to see him today, this conversation had not even been an inkling in his mind. And he doesn't regret having told her -- indeed, she'd just confirmed he regrets nothing, like the very ability has been purged -- but that does not mean he looks forward to any possible fallout. He suspects there will be, and yet the notion is... almost steadying.

Her hands are warm, or his have just become cold, along with the cooling coffee. She invites him to dinner, and Keeliai remembers to exist outside this room. ]

... Okay.

[She huffs a little, and it's almost amused.]

I hardly thought you'd meant things to go this way.

[It just... snowballed, really. If Bakura was actively trying to get rid of her, he'd have been less delicate about it, she thinks. More direct. This seemed more, looking back, like he almost couldn't stop himself laying it bare. That, too, will bear examination.]

[Improbably, she pats one of his hands before letting go. Raine herself is not entirely sure why, but she makes herself brisk.]

Good. I'll get back to you with a precise date in a little while.

[Which may coincide with how long it takes her to think this through to her satisfaction. Raine picks her coffee back up to finish the tail end of it, then, a gesture made with some intent. When she is leaving, it is because she has things to do and thoughts that need examination. Not because she is running. And that's as much for her benefit as his.]

[ Her mannerism helps, and while he suspects she knew it would, he doubts she realized just how much. Bakura nods, setting her now-empty mug in the sink to be rinsed, something for him to give his attention. The air feels like it's slowly coming back into the room, or less like high altitude. ]

Of course. You know where to find me.

[ An obvious jest, though less flippant than normal. ]

Your coworkers will be wondering where you've gone off too.

I do.

[Provided he doesn't leave the city like he was suggesting he might, back then, but somehow she doesn't think he will.]

I suppose they will be. I should get back.

[Raine will not, in fact, be going back to work with this amount of inner turmoil. She will stop by only briefly to explain that there are personal circumstances that need to be handled, and to make sure that no emergencies need her immediate attention, and then she is going to go somewhere safe and sit and think.]

[But it lends something of an air of normalcy to imply that her day hasn't been disrupted, so she presses on in that manner.]

I'll see you later.

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