I-I didn't do -- [ he lets out a strangled squeal at the gun suddenly being pointed at him, holding up his arms in front of himself (as if they'd do anything to stop a revolver bullet.) For a moment, he has a reaction of pure animal panic and wants to just dart in the other direction and not look back, but...
This reaction -- he was one of them. He was a monster. ]
Gilbert... You're one of them? H-how... How could you act like you did? You acted like you were my friend!! [ suddenly, his voice gains an accusatory tone, shaky though it is. ] You're just like Mary...!
[he has no idea who Mary might be, but he instantly feels sympathy toward her anyway. if he was just like her, Garry had no doubt tricked her, too.
there's a fierceness in his expression that doesn't entirely match up with the way his firing arm trembles just slightly.]
If anyone here is acting, it's you! I trusted you when I needed help, I believed you when you said that you would look for Oz, and now this? [and to think he had been stupid enough to let his guard down so far. coldness pricks at his spine and he shakes his head once, trying to clear it.] ...If anything happens to him in this mess because of you and yours, I won't forgive you. I will never forgive you.
[ he should definitely run. He's going to get shot at. But now he feels angry. Being accused like this - like he'd done something wrong! He hadn't been anything but a victim this entire time. ]
Don't be ridiculous! You're the ones who started this! Ib and I would be safe back home if not for you! [ he points at him, accusing -the growling tone in his voice is practically unheard of for Garry. He swallows heavily. ] And if Oz is a monster, too, he's as much at fault as the rest of you!!
You— [and there, that is all the confirmation that his delusional fears need to consume him. placing the blame on his shoulders is one thing; even if Garry is wrong, that's something he can handle. who cares what one person says against him anyway, especially if that person is enough of a coward to strip powers away from others just for the sake of their own pride?
but he can't process anything beyond that. "at fault" means "to be persecuted". in this starved state, Oz wouldn't be able to fend off a group of attackers — shouldn't have to. blind anger shoots through him, and both that and his insurmountable paranoia work in Garry's advantage this time. normally, he's one of the best shots in all of Pandora, second only to his brother. today, his hands are shaking horribly. there's something in him still that hasn't been fully drowned by illusion, something that says no, not an enemy, not an enemy, but it isn't enough.
it's partially out of reflex and partially out of the desire to defend that he pulls the trigger, but he's shaken so badly that it's nowhere near fatal. at best the bullet might graze his shoulder, puncturing at worst.]
[ the shot rings out, and he immediately panics. Should have run back then, he knew it; whatever dregs of his consciousness convinced him to stay here and talk to Gilbert had been wrong, wrong, wrong, and the sharp, shooting pain in his shoulder convinces him as much. This man's a dangerous monster as much as any of the other shadows lurking in the fog.
He screams at the sudden burn of the injury. That's all it takes for him to leave whatever else he was thinking of behind. He bolts. There was nothing else he wanted to say - he doesn't even consider it. He stumbles back from the impact, and the momentum goes straight into a run, even with one hand gripping the wound; he's only going on animal instinct now, the fog in his brain, and he doesn't look back.
He'll starve if he has to. He can't go out there again. ]
[he almost moves to shoot at Garry's retreating back, almost—
but his finger freezes against the trigger. while this man could still be a danger to his own, he doesn't pursue, either. "it's good enough" might be why; a starving person won't be a threat if they're contending with a wound at the same time. he might not even survive the night, depending.
beyond that, however, there's a feeling of vague discomfort. even though he knows he's right (has to be right), he can't shake how unsettled he feels. he holsters his revolver for the first time that day, tucking his trembling arms against himself as he turns to head back toward the old school buildings.]
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no subject
This reaction -- he was one of them. He was a monster. ]
Gilbert... You're one of them? H-how... How could you act like you did? You acted like you were my friend!! [ suddenly, his voice gains an accusatory tone, shaky though it is. ] You're just like Mary...!
no subject
there's a fierceness in his expression that doesn't entirely match up with the way his firing arm trembles just slightly.]
If anyone here is acting, it's you! I trusted you when I needed help, I believed you when you said that you would look for Oz, and now this? [and to think he had been stupid enough to let his guard down so far. coldness pricks at his spine and he shakes his head once, trying to clear it.] ...If anything happens to him in this mess because of you and yours, I won't forgive you. I will never forgive you.
no subject
Don't be ridiculous! You're the ones who started this! Ib and I would be safe back home if not for you! [ he points at him, accusing -the growling tone in his voice is practically unheard of for Garry. He swallows heavily. ] And if Oz is a monster, too, he's as much at fault as the rest of you!!
no subject
but he can't process anything beyond that. "at fault" means "to be persecuted". in this starved state, Oz wouldn't be able to fend off a group of attackers — shouldn't have to. blind anger shoots through him, and both that and his insurmountable paranoia work in Garry's advantage this time. normally, he's one of the best shots in all of Pandora, second only to his brother. today, his hands are shaking horribly. there's something in him still that hasn't been fully drowned by illusion, something that says no, not an enemy, not an enemy, but it isn't enough.
it's partially out of reflex and partially out of the desire to defend that he pulls the trigger, but he's shaken so badly that it's nowhere near fatal. at best the bullet might graze his shoulder, puncturing at worst.]
no subject
He screams at the sudden burn of the injury. That's all it takes for him to leave whatever else he was thinking of behind. He bolts. There was nothing else he wanted to say - he doesn't even consider it. He stumbles back from the impact, and the momentum goes straight into a run, even with one hand gripping the wound; he's only going on animal instinct now, the fog in his brain, and he doesn't look back.
He'll starve if he has to. He can't go out there again. ]
no subject
but his finger freezes against the trigger. while this man could still be a danger to his own, he doesn't pursue, either. "it's good enough" might be why; a starving person won't be a threat if they're contending with a wound at the same time. he might not even survive the night, depending.
beyond that, however, there's a feeling of vague discomfort. even though he knows he's right (has to be right), he can't shake how unsettled he feels. he holsters his revolver for the first time that day, tucking his trembling arms against himself as he turns to head back toward the old school buildings.]