"No, I don't know what life is like for other people. No one does. That, too, is the nature of life; you only ever get to experience your own. Well, at least when you're not getting thrown into other worlds where you have to live as other people, you don't."
Matthew may sound just a little dry and darkly sarcastic at that. Just a little.
"But my life, our life, we can understand. We are not observing it. We are living it. It is more than just a process, more than just one life stage followed by another. It is...an experience."
He falls silent for a moment.
"Thing is, though, that sometimes that experience fucking sucks. Sometimes it's pain and terror and soul-crushing horror. That's what your...infirmary...is. We love our life, and we do not want to give it up for anything, but while we were there..."
They trail off, not wanting to finish that thought. Not wanting to admit, even out loud, that in those moments they would have gladly accepted oblivion if only it meant that their suffering would end.
He takes a deep breath.
"You can't just protect existence alone. You can't just make sure something's alive, and call it a day. Because...quality of life, or whatever you want to call it, that matters. There's a reason that immortality is, on the whole, a really fucking bad idea."
Death purses his lips a moment in thought, then, after a moment, answers:
"There is a good reason the old Veterans did not wish lives to be lost in Liminal Space. I do not wish to use my 'infirmary' unless it is necessary. To remake your body is easy, but your sentience..." He shakes his head, wearily. "Your sentience must be preserved at all costs. Not only because you are integral to this tournament, but also because I would be lesser for it were I to allow one of you to die needlessly. And I am growing rather fond of you all, for what that's worth."
He shrugs his bony shoulders. "Sadly I am not given much space to perform my art. I understand the tight quarters were troublesome, but were you to get out of it before you were healed, you might have merely died again. Futher, to allow for greater freedom of movement within the ectoplasmic chamber might cause... unwanted side effects. You saw the side effects merely from your struggling."
"We don't want to talk about the side effects!" they snap. They want to do anything but talk about it, to have to think about what it was like, how it felt...
He falls silent for a moment.
"I'd like to go back now," he says flatly. Because right they're just arguing about the Floor, with Death trying to persuade him that it was bloody necessary and that he actually gives a damn about their wellbeing, and Matthew finding it very hard to believe it.
And right now, he's just tired of this conversation.
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Matthew may sound just a little dry and darkly sarcastic at that. Just a little.
"But my life, our life, we can understand. We are not observing it. We are living it. It is more than just a process, more than just one life stage followed by another. It is...an experience."
He falls silent for a moment.
"Thing is, though, that sometimes that experience fucking sucks. Sometimes it's pain and terror and soul-crushing horror. That's what your...infirmary...is. We love our life, and we do not want to give it up for anything, but while we were there..."
They trail off, not wanting to finish that thought. Not wanting to admit, even out loud, that in those moments they would have gladly accepted oblivion if only it meant that their suffering would end.
He takes a deep breath.
"You can't just protect existence alone. You can't just make sure something's alive, and call it a day. Because...quality of life, or whatever you want to call it, that matters. There's a reason that immortality is, on the whole, a really fucking bad idea."
no subject
"There is a good reason the old Veterans did not wish lives to be lost in Liminal Space. I do not wish to use my 'infirmary' unless it is necessary. To remake your body is easy, but your sentience..." He shakes his head, wearily. "Your sentience must be preserved at all costs. Not only because you are integral to this tournament, but also because I would be lesser for it were I to allow one of you to die needlessly. And I am growing rather fond of you all, for what that's worth."
He shrugs his bony shoulders. "Sadly I am not given much space to perform my art. I understand the tight quarters were troublesome, but were you to get out of it before you were healed, you might have merely died again. Futher, to allow for greater freedom of movement within the ectoplasmic chamber might cause... unwanted side effects. You saw the side effects merely from your struggling."
no subject
He falls silent for a moment.
"I'd like to go back now," he says flatly. Because right they're just arguing about the Floor, with Death trying to persuade him that it was bloody necessary and that he actually gives a damn about their wellbeing, and Matthew finding it very hard to believe it.
And right now, he's just tired of this conversation.
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"Come on, Nancy," he says, before sweeping out through the portal, the pigeon fluttering along behind him.