The strumming finally stops, York going so far as to unsling the guitar from his shoulders and set it aside so he can lean forward and lace his fingers together. "So. Lemme get this straight."
Because as much (little) as he's been given? The impression he gets is this. "You fight in the war. Shit happens because hey, it's war, that's what happens. Somewhere between that ending and the past, I dunno, two, three years you get to a place where indirectly prompting genocide seems an appropriate request of an employer. Then you just decide to quit. Pack up, go home, come here and take the oath like the rest of us."
The one about protecting people and shit. The one about preventing Chronoblivion. "Is that entirely accurate? Because I feel like I'm missing shit here."
That's the only thing that could be missing, surely. There's certainly no motivation that could explain away what he'd done, what he'd chosen to do, and the weight of that choice isn't one that's escaped York, if the emphasis on his words is any indication.
Nearly done, he thinks. Just follow through, answer his questions, wait for him to leave.
"..." christ he is not equipped to deal with this. "I'm asking you as a person, not as a solider."
Good on Locus for quitting before actually doing the thing but- "What happened that made figuratively glassing a planet ok to you? What made you change your mind? What happened that made wash think you wouldn't, I dunno, slit my throat in my sleep? Cuz you heaven even given me the basics here, man. What the hell."
"It wasn't." It wasn't okay, not by any stretch of the imagination. No one in their right mind would forgive such an action. "I knew. I knew how terrible it was, but I felt nothing. I was following orders. That was all that was required of me."
Press on. Focus. He took another quiet breath before continuing, tonelessly. "When I did question, my partner would...'reassure' is not the correct word. But it made sense. The strong survive, as their right. If they deserved to live, they would be strong enough to stop us."
"I wanted to continue as I had been, to be a soldier. And instead I became a monster. Washington...He had been where I was, but he had taken a different path. Chosen to find his purpose in people, rather than in orders. There was another way, provided I left everything behind."
And he had. A choice he still sometimes questions.
"It's too late to change what I did. But I can do some good here. I think he agrees, as much as it irks him to do so."
"You're supposed to question unethical orders as a solider. You're supposed to use your judgement." Not buy into them. Not bury yourself in them so deep you can't tell which way is up.
There's more that's not being said but- even if locus recognizes having gone off the rails- he needs a minute. An hour. A few days. Without a word he tugs his guitar back up on his shoulder and stands, muttering. "This is not the reality check I needed, christ."
The door's right there and he starts walking till he hitsthe threshold and hesitates. "You ever feel like filling in the rest of the blanks, you know where to find me."
This needed to happen, sooner rather than later. Washington had been correct in that respect, at least. He'll maintain his distance, find someone else to spar with. He doesn't look up again until he hears fading footsteps.
Find where it stings, he thinks, where it hurts, where you thought you might have had hope for something good, and push it down. Drown it. You'll survive without it.
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Because as much (little) as he's been given? The impression he gets is this. "You fight in the war. Shit happens because hey, it's war, that's what happens. Somewhere between that ending and the past, I dunno, two, three years you get to a place where indirectly prompting genocide seems an appropriate request of an employer. Then you just decide to quit. Pack up, go home, come here and take the oath like the rest of us."
The one about protecting people and shit. The one about preventing Chronoblivion. "Is that entirely accurate? Because I feel like I'm missing shit here."
no subject
That's the only thing that could be missing, surely. There's certainly no motivation that could explain away what he'd done, what he'd chosen to do, and the weight of that choice isn't one that's escaped York, if the emphasis on his words is any indication.
Nearly done, he thinks. Just follow through, answer his questions, wait for him to leave.
no subject
Good on Locus for quitting before actually doing the thing but- "What happened that made figuratively glassing a planet ok to you? What made you change your mind? What happened that made wash think you wouldn't, I dunno, slit my throat in my sleep? Cuz you heaven even given me the basics here, man. What the hell."
no subject
Press on. Focus. He took another quiet breath before continuing, tonelessly. "When I did question, my partner would...'reassure' is not the correct word. But it made sense. The strong survive, as their right. If they deserved to live, they would be strong enough to stop us."
"I wanted to continue as I had been, to be a soldier. And instead I became a monster. Washington...He had been where I was, but he had taken a different path. Chosen to find his purpose in people, rather than in orders. There was another way, provided I left everything behind."
And he had. A choice he still sometimes questions.
"It's too late to change what I did. But I can do some good here. I think he agrees, as much as it irks him to do so."
no subject
There's more that's not being said but- even if locus recognizes having gone off the rails- he needs a minute. An hour. A few days. Without a word he tugs his guitar back up on his shoulder and stands, muttering. "This is not the reality check I needed, christ."
The door's right there and he starts walking till he hitsthe threshold and hesitates. "You ever feel like filling in the rest of the blanks, you know where to find me."
no subject
This needed to happen, sooner rather than later. Washington had been correct in that respect, at least. He'll maintain his distance, find someone else to spar with. He doesn't look up again until he hears fading footsteps.
Find where it stings, he thinks, where it hurts, where you thought you might have had hope for something good, and push it down. Drown it. You'll survive without it.
He'll be fine without this.