Week 0 | Sunday Post Execution

[concasse]

[So this is the story of a chef on the search for the Fon Master.

That execution... well, it certainly got the point across, didn't it? First a murder, now a death, and never mind that justice was served -- point is that the castle isn't safe, it never was in the first place, and it's prevalent of how fucked they are if they don't start preparing for the worst.

Which is why Sanji's hitting up the usual suspects, and upon spying Ion from the back, blows out a sigh of relief during his approach.]

Oi, Ion, you got a sec?

Comments

[concasse]

[yeah, Sanji gets it. Kinda wishes he didn't, but that execution was... quite a show. The only reason he's faring better than most is death is so common place on his world. Either the sea takes you, or the marines will.]

Yeah, even for me, that was... hn.

[God he wants a cigarette]

It'd be nice if we could wake up tomorrow and not have to deal with this shit, but that's a quick way to get killed... First blood's been spilt. Won't be long before someone else dies.

[fonlines]

It would be ideal if such could happen, wouldn't it...

[ His smile falters briefly, then is discarded entirely as he heaves a sigh with his shoulders. His posture broken, he looks much smaller than he is as he glances at Sanji through somber, half-lidded eyes. ]

Is it really so simple as that? One person... takes advantage, and sets off a chain of panic and paranoia in response as people seek to protect themselves?

Do such things normally happen so easily?

[concasse]

They do.

[Rather bluntly said. Sanji doesn't mean to be cruel here -- it's just how shit works, and he's seen it before back on his world. Happy endings are earned, not given. It's much easier for people to lose sense of themselves when their lives are on the line.]

The knives from the kitchen are still missing. That alone means people here don't feel safe. And half the bastards have swords, too. We got the weapons, and the paranoia.

Doesn't even have to be a calculated kill. Just put two desperate people together, one says or does the wrong thing, and someone's dead for it.

[fonlines]

[ Ion just fingers and plays idly, solemnly, with the end of his staff, in response to the comment on weapons. What Sanji says is entirely true, even if he'd rather it not be.

He waits until the end to respond. ]

How dreadful. And of course, no one knows who to trust, and therefore don't trust— and that only complicates the problem.

[ ... Distantly: ]

Has he told you? We were meant to help keep the peace, in our world. Our role as Fon Master was in guidance. But that was a matter on the level of nations and masses, not people. [ Not desperate individuals seeking to stay alive. ] I admit, I believe myself to be somewhat out of my depth... that I am not doing as much as I could, or as I should.

I wonder if he feels the same.

[concasse]

... Like ambassadors?

[For obvious reasons, there are no Fon Masters back on Sanji's world. Hell, the title doesn't even make sense. Are they masters of the fon?]

And Ion's... he's a sensitive kid.

[That speaks plenty for how he's feeling, Sanji assumes]

... Also, the hell is a fon?