[He feigns an expression of wry thankfulness, the corner of his mouth quirking with the faintest hint of amusement.]
How kind of you. But you needn't trouble yourself; I know well when my presence is most unwelcome.
[Crossing his legs, now, with a sudden air of disinterest, he adds matter-of-factly:]
I should only hope your-- [He falters, as though lacking a word to describe Saori. Rather, he's spoiled for choice in terms of what he can use, especially in the way of unsavoury adjectives.]
--dear friend... does not happen to treat others in a similar manner.
[Her hand stills just as she's about to open her journal. It's not that she's unaware of Saori's unsavory feelings towards Isaac, it's just that she still doesn't know exactly what happened to make them hate each other so much.]
It's true she doesn't seem to favor you...Why is that exactly?
[The understatement of the century, truly – and a loaded question.]
…‘tis a rather lengthy explanation, I’m afraid, but one which I believe you deserve to hear. Like so many… [He begins in his languid drawl,] your dear friend lacks the good sense to leave be a grieving man when he requests solitude, and then is most surprised when her aid, unsolicited as it is, is refused.
[Despite the calm, flippant manner in which he offers his explanation, there’s a flash of something fierce in his eyes.]
How dare I turn away a mighty goddess and not throw myself at her feet, begging and pleading that she might pity my crooked little heart? How dare I not feel sorry for one who reminds me that my suffering and my very existence are nothing compared to her own? [He gives a sharp exhalation of a laugh.] ...One would hope for more grace and composure from one bestowed with such power. That she appears to lack both makes her rather… dangerous, really. I have seen the ferocity of her quicksilver temper.
[Pausing briefly, he gives it all a moment to sink in.]
‘twas quite a long time ago, this incident of ours. But ever since, she claims to know so very much about me and despises every fibre of my being. [He says it pleasantly and with a sense of amusement, as if it is reason to smile.] I suspect you would be quite alarmed by her viciousness, were you to look upon my journal and see what she has wished upon me. Almost a shame you were not there in the past to hear her speak of her desire to fuck me with my own innards, if you will. You must forgive me my wicked tongue, for I merely share with you the very same words I was offered.
[He leans forward conspiratorially after a moment.]
Between you and I -- I have reason enough to believe she would pursue me were she to know of our meeting, here and now. She has warned me against approaching you, threatening to inflict agonies beyond all imagining should I displease her. Of course… [A small sigh.]
…you are still most welcome to speak with her should you desire it. I imagine you might. You are companions, after all. But there is no doubt in my mind that she will try her very hardest to vilify me, not unlike the countless men whom would have me burn at the stake as a child. She hears only that which she wishes to hear, and is quite… fixed… in her beliefs. More inflexible than I, even, if there were such a thing. [Giggling lowly.] She has assured me that my ‘wagging my tongue’ changes nothing, so there is truly no hope for an understanding. ‘tis most unfortunate.
[His lips thin.]
Now, Belle… to find yourself caught in the midst of this feud places you in a most trying situation. I do not envy you your... confusion and anguish. But I sense I know already where you stand, me being the wretch I am and she, a glorious goddess beloved by nearly all who dwell in this cage. I imagine she rather likes anyone who neither questions her words nor challenges her authority. Many gods are nothing without their flock, and feed upon the blind faith of their dear friends and followers. Sweet little sheep like yourself, whom deserve far better than to be regarded as such. But there is power in numbers, of course, and gods, alas... tend to be greedy, selfish beings.
[He shrugs a shoulder dismissively.]
In the end… ‘tis you who shall decide what it is you wish to believe. Not her, nor I. Your mind is your own, my dear, and a clever one at that. Use it well.
Edited (a few little things have been tweaked) 2013-03-22 01:58 (UTC)
[His words strike her hard, particularly towards the end. During his speech her expression grows increasingly pained; confusion, disbelief, and anger flickers quickly across her face and then is gone. Blank, numb, she doesn't know what to feel by the time his face trails off so she feels it all at once and then nothing at all.
She's always been aware that Saori is just as fallible to anger and disregard as anyone. It's what makes her so easy to get along with, despite knowing that she isn't human. She feels things and so sometimes Belle forgets just how inhuman she really is. But she's never shown that side of herself to Belle. Not even when she revealed her true form to her. The Saori that Isaac is describing sounds little like the one she has come to known.
It could be a trick. A horrible, awful trick. But what reason would he have to do such a thing? Why would he lie?
Her grip on her journal loosens and slips from her fingers, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her gaze is focused solely on Isaac.]
Why would you come? [When she finally speaks she seems to startle even herself.] Why would you come and tell me all of this if she's threatened you so? Are you so concerned for me? [Her tone makes it sound like even she doesn't believe that.] Or do you not care whether or not she makes good on her words?
[Her gaze finally drops and she sets her jaw, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bending down, she finally recovers her journal from the floor and, after a moment's hesitation, puts it back in her pocket.]
I am no sheep. And I would like it if you would stop talking to me as if you know what I am thinking or what I will do. Saori remains, as she has always been, my friend. I am no follower of hers, although I have nothing but the utmost respect for one of her kind.
As for what you have told me, I'm sorry. It seems like it was all one giant misunderstanding. Perhaps too much time has passed for either of you to be friends, but maybe I can speak to her about starting anew. Everyone deserves a second chance, should they desire one.
[He studies the play of expressions on her face neutrally all the while, unsurprised by her resistance. People didn’t tend to change their minds in an instant, more so about a companion or a loved one. And they, he knew, were also willing to pardon and excuse a great many things for those they cared for. It makes having allies especially important to him.
The latter question is given no answer but for a smile thinning his lips. Not a sly, vile smile or teeth bared in a snarl, but something small and reserved and tired, so tired. Tired of life in Luceti and of life in itself. The end of it has held greater appeal as of late.
Briefly glancing aside, he wets his lips.]
There was a man I knew of, once… [He begins quietly, wryly amused, his eyes glazing in thought.] And of all the men and women in the village… he alone understood a devil best. He would take the miserable creature as he was, flaws and all, and he did not have it change nor imposed his wishes upon it. Many hours he spent in the devil’s arms, sharing laughter and wine and trading favours, his presence bringing light to the darkest of places. And then, when he feared the village would lay siege to the devil’s home and take his head, he seemed to offer his loyalty… preferring to be anathema than to leave it behind.
[His smile broadens, eyes shining dully.]
‘twas a curious companionship; a perfect companionship. Two creatures unloved and in the shadows, finding some sense of belonging in each other. Or so it had seemed. But all good things come to an end. [His lips part before he’s ready and he takes a breath.] The day came... when the devil waited for its dearest friend, aching for his company. But he did not show. Hours, days, weeks passed without word. The man whom had once sought its company and so enjoyed it had forgotten all about it, and the devil grew despondent, left to wonder whether the bond they had shared was something it had only imagined in a moment of weakness. For who could love a pathetic beast? Then, at last – [He spreads his hands.] -- the man returned… and many words were shared. The devil came to learn that the man had always thought it a fool, and had only come out of pity, perhaps; out of the desire to satisfy his need to take what he had wanted. The rest… had never really mattered, in the end. [A faint, hollow laugh escapes him.]
The devil had also learned… that, sometimes, one does not know one's friends as well as one believes.
[Letting that hang heavily in the air, he finally breaks eye-contact and sets his own journal down upon the table, leafing back through the pages.]
…‘tis clear that second chances are not to be when I was supplied false information despite an attempt at civility. I have a tongue of my own; I shan't have anyone speak for me.
[When he digs up the desired recording that had been filtered to him, he turns the book her way, sliding it across the table towards her.]
Edited (welp, sorry LAST TIME) 2013-03-23 02:53 (UTC)
[She listens to his story silently, captivated by it despite herself. A tiny weight forms in her stomach, twisting it in knots. The longer the story goes on the more the weight increases. This story will not have a happy ending. And yet she can't help but hang off his words, anticipating the final blow. The thing that will tie its existence to this conversation.
When Isaac finally falls silent, Belle at first doesn't know what to say. Should she offer condolences-for surely this is a personal story-or should she deny it and stand up for Saori?]
I'm sorry. It is a terrible thing to be betrayed by one who you care a great deal about. However...Saori has never been anything but kind to me. It would not be right of me to so easily turn from her. This...feud that you both have is between the two of you. I do not wish to become involved.
[She steps back from his table and is about to turn to go when he sets out his journal. Curious, she remains put. Watching as he slides it towards her, she approaches the table once again and picks it up. After a moment she realizes with a start when this interaction must have taken place. Her cheeks pale and she closes her eyes as if that would so how keep her from hearing the words being said. Once the conversation dies off she closes the journal and lets it drop to the table.]
...She was concerned for me. People can become enraged when those they care about are, from their perspective, in danger. Beast would have tried going after you as well had I not deterred him. [Finally her eyes raise to meet his own.]
Would you not act in the defense of one you care about had you seen what they had?
Don’t -- [The Forgemaster cuts in, firmly, before smoothening the rawness from his tone.] be sorry. [He dimly shakes his head, his lips pressing into a tighter smile through the sting.] …I’m not.
[He is silent as she listens to the exchange, observing her reaction as always. Without a doubt, he would spring to Julia’s defense like a hellhound unchained and would have torn limb from limb the person responsible for poisoning Zevran. But he had neither now. Only himself, like old times.]
Would a stern glance and a simple warning not have sufficed on her part? Instead, there is this -- a threat dripping with a venomous, almost palpable hatred just waiting to be unleashed. Even your beloved Beast, furious as he was, wasn’t half as vicious when we crossed paths.
[He shuts the journal with a padded thump.]
Tell me… why is it you seem troubled by what it is you hear? Is she not merely... acting in your defense?
[A beat, his smugness expertly contained.]
She shows you kindness; of that I have no doubt. But think you, truly, she would speak a word of it to you were she to drag me someplace unseen and ravage my flesh in novel ways? Would she show you her fine work? Or would she hide it thinking it might spare you pain, and as not to let you see just how deep the darkness is within her? You might call a friend one whose faces you have not all seen... but not I. Not any longer.
[A frown forms on her lips. Her eyes never leave his gaze and instead seem to be searching for something; a flaw perhaps that will allow her to see what he's thinking, what he wants. She slowly folds her arms across her chest, a little retreat from things she does not wish to speak about.]
And what of you? Would you say that I have seen all of your faces? Why should I place doubt in one of my dearest friends simply because you imply I should? Perhaps it's because I have already seen the darkness that's in you? Although I would hardly say that you try to hide it. No, whatever darkness Saori might be hiding, she does it as a kindness. But you...you hide any bit of goodness under anger and insults. Is it really easier being the devil than just being the man?
[Ah, some fight to her; he enjoys a challenge and admires her spirited defiance, seeing something of himself in it. He is seemingly unfazed, but the flickers of emotion scintillating in his eyes defy his pleasant mask.]
Never was I a man to begin with. [He chuckles softly albeit humourlessly.] There was only a devil whom was foolish enough to dream of being a man. Of being something it could never be. And soon did it fade as I was shown the error of my ways and learned my place in the world. [His smile twists into something nastier, sharp as a knife’s edge with fury and hurt. His voice drops to a seething hiss.]
How keen were many to put me in my place... men and beasts alike.
[Nothing has changed, he thinks. His eyes fall shut as he relives a moment, vivid and violent, in flashes, his hand doubling into a powerless, trembling fist. It's the sting of his nails biting deeply into his palms that draws him back. Breathing slowly with a conscious effort, his eyes slide open.]
I am what I shall always be. [His conversations with Julia echo in memory and he angrily wills away the sudden, sharp ache in his chest.]
Edited (You didn't see that either. >>) 2013-03-23 06:09 (UTC)
[She realizes that their circumstances are completely different, but that doesn't stop his words from piercing her. Belle is not unfamiliar with others trying to force her into a role she did not want. Gaston had tried when he'd asked for her hand. And all the eyes on her that she couldn't help but feel every time she walked through the village, silently judging her and her father.
Smiling a little sadly, her gaze drops down to stare unseeingly at the table.]
I've always found it silly how people cling to their "place" in life. Well, I suppose it's really only society's idea of place. Men are supposed to be strong and unyielding and must provide for their families. Women must keep the household going and bear children, as many as possible. Simple rules that were created before we were born and so we have no control over them. No choice.
[She looks up then, expression set in determination.]
I have never been so good at following those ideals, nor do I ever want to. If there truly is a place for me I shall find it myself. Or, failing that, create my own. [Pause.] You speak as if you have no choice in the matter, but that's not true. Only you can control who you are and only you can decide what you will be.
[It should have meant something that she was sympathizing, that she was trying to connect. But his eyes narrow to mean slits, locked on hers as he rises slowly from his chair and moves around the table’s edge one deliberate step at a time to stand before her, barely a foot separating them. His body’s taut and primed for attack, his breathing shallow and sharp with the vehemence of a tirade on the very verge of erupting. But his voice is low, raw, and deathly calm. Hundreds of answers, hundreds of screaming voices in his mind clamour to be heard, and all but one are silenced.]
A prisoner in an inescapable dungeon can always aspire for more, scraping and clawing his way at stone walls until his fingers bleed and are worn down to the bone. [He says, tautly.] But try as he might, in that cell he shall rot for the rest of his days. [His eyelids lower, his gaze glassy and unfeeling and fixed on her still. But staring through her, as if she were a pane of glass.] I had a choice.
To live, unafraid, no longer at the mercy of man or beast... [His Adam's apple joggles slightly.] Or to die, would I be so fortunate. For there are fates far worse than death itself. Fates that would make even a gruesome death the sweetest kindness.
[There’s a twitch of at the corner of his mouth, lips pinched.]
Such… [A snarl, barely controlled, issues through gritted teeth.] were my choices. I made mine.
[Her back straightens and she holds herself still as Isaac rises from his seat and approaches. And yet she does not move, even by a step, as he enters her space. She's well used to his sudden changes in mood and refuses to be intimidated by them.]
The thing about choices is that they are small, fleeting, and never ending. One choice leads to another which eventually leads to even more. They can lead us to great happiness or overwhelming regret. Yet they can always be amended. Like a child who places his hand in a fire because it looks lovely and gets burned. That choice will teach him a lesson that he either has to take to heart or continue making the same mistake.
[Her words begin to come fast, with more conviction.] Although many see this place as an inescapable prison to me it is a world far more accepting of me than my own. And it could be for you as well! Whatever choices you have made in the past have no bearing here. And I doubt people here would react as the ones in your world have. You need only give them a chance. You can hardly blame them for seeing you as a devil when you strive so hard to make it so.
[He tilts his head at a challenging angle as she speaks, his eyes hard and smouldering with a cold, implacable fury.]
I have given more than enough to those undeserving… and I have learned from my mistake. [The words mean to strike, sharp and venomous as a viper’s bite.] Forgive me if you shan’t enjoy the gratification of guiding a lost soul to salvation; forgive me, still, if it isn’t all as simple as you think it to be. I will not be some accomplishment of yours you will look upon when it pleases you, taking great pride in your fine work.
[I shall be only that which I am. ‘tis all I have, in the end. His chest heaves.]
You speak of tolerance, of placing faith in others, of being fair. [The ‘f’ is bitterly enunciated, as if he meant to spit a much harsher word.] Were men and women as gracious as you believe, they would not dare think to force me into becoming someone they would prefer far more than this. No -- they would take me as I am, for I am not nor shall I ever be obliged to satisfy them.
Perhaps I would have an easier time accepting you as you are now if I truly believed you were happy as such. However, I do not believe that is true and so I simply try to appeal to that side of you. The part of you that is not as prickly and hateful. If this has offended you than I apologize.
[She meets his eyes directly, jaw set, and eyes blazing.] Yet I must ask once again that you do not make up conclusion about me or my actions. If I merely saw you as an accomplishment I would have long ago set my sights on someone far more reasonable. Perhaps you simply don't know what it's like to have someone care.
[The sting of a remark cutting far too close to the bone gives him pause for a split second too long. He blinks away a blank, inward-searching look in his eyes, casting words of his own like stones in the heat of the moment in a bid to cut short this frustrating subject.]
Neither I nor my affairs are any concern of yours… but should you persist, God help you, I will become one. No matter what tortures your friend is prepared to inflict.
[Even as he says it, though, he knows it'd be too impetuous of him to follow through in the manner he's suggesting. But physical threats aren't the only means of shaking off someone bothersome; they're only the most familiar to him.]
If she pursues you, it is for her own reasons, because I will not tell her. That would only show that I have something to fear from you. And I don't believe that I do.
[Despite the conviction in her words there is a slight wariness in her eyes that hints at uncertainty. But she refuses to allow him to scare her.]
[The Forgemaster searches her face for something to exploit with unblinking intensity, panting softly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he wrestles with his more violent impulses. But then, in an instant, the fierce inward struggle ends and his thin, pale lips twist into a crooked smile.]
How fortunate a woman you are –- [He purrs, lifting a hand, so slowly, with the intent to stroke her face with the backs of his gloved fingers.] -- to have a powerful guardian.
[He had one, once, whom had died long before her time.]
We were not all so... blessed. [He adds musingly, not without a hint of scorn.] But... there is a danger in relying on them, in becoming rather... comfortable with the idea that they shall be there for as long as we have need for them. For one day, sooner or later... they all disappear.
[Challenge flickers in his eyes as he holds hers, his sibylline smile lingering as he feathers a gloved finger slowly down the column of her throat, the shape of his fingernail, long and filed sharp, sharply delineated against leather.
Bold creature, he thinks.]
There are times... [He murmurs.] ...when impetuousity is most unwise.
[A soft giggle issues from him, anger seemingly forgotten for the moment.]
[He drawls softly, almost reassuringly, satisfied on some level by the infinitesimal hints of nervousness. For these are nuances in body language he is all too familiar with from years of laying siege to human settlements and coming to know death and the moments before very intimately.
He draws back slowly without turning, glancing aside only to collect his journal.]
[Action, March 1st]
I'm sorry for your trouble. But I would be glad to send you a note once I have decided upon a date.
[Action, March 1st]
How kind of you. But you needn't trouble yourself; I know well when my presence is most unwelcome.
[Crossing his legs, now, with a sudden air of disinterest, he adds matter-of-factly:]
I should only hope your-- [He falters, as though lacking a word to describe Saori. Rather, he's spoiled for choice in terms of what he can use, especially in the way of unsavoury adjectives.]
--dear friend... does not happen to treat others in a similar manner.
[Action, March 1st] SORRY THIS IS SO LATE
I'm sure she just made a mistake. I'll ask her. [She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out her journal.]
[Action, March 1st]
A mistake? [A hollow laugh escapes him.] While almost endearing of you, I'm afraid I do not share your... faith.
[Words are chosen very carefully yet again, a casual insult omitted.]
[Action, March 1st]
It's true she doesn't seem to favor you...Why is that exactly?
[Action, March 1st]
…‘tis a rather lengthy explanation, I’m afraid, but one which I believe you deserve to hear. Like so many… [He begins in his languid drawl,] your dear friend lacks the good sense to leave be a grieving man when he requests solitude, and then is most surprised when her aid, unsolicited as it is, is refused.
[Despite the calm, flippant manner in which he offers his explanation, there’s a flash of something fierce in his eyes.]
How dare I turn away a mighty goddess and not throw myself at her feet, begging and pleading that she might pity my crooked little heart? How dare I not feel sorry for one who reminds me that my suffering and my very existence are nothing compared to her own? [He gives a sharp exhalation of a laugh.] ...One would hope for more grace and composure from one bestowed with such power. That she appears to lack both makes her rather… dangerous, really. I have seen the ferocity of her quicksilver temper.
[Pausing briefly, he gives it all a moment to sink in.]
‘twas quite a long time ago, this incident of ours. But ever since, she claims to know so very much about me and despises every fibre of my being. [He says it pleasantly and with a sense of amusement, as if it is reason to smile.] I suspect you would be quite alarmed by her viciousness, were you to look upon my journal and see what she has wished upon me. Almost a shame you were not there in the past to hear her speak of her desire to fuck me with my own innards, if you will. You must forgive me my wicked tongue, for I merely share with you the very same words I was offered.
[He leans forward conspiratorially after a moment.]
Between you and I -- I have reason enough to believe she would pursue me were she to know of our meeting, here and now. She has warned me against approaching you, threatening to inflict agonies beyond all imagining should I displease her. Of course… [A small sigh.]
…you are still most welcome to speak with her should you desire it. I imagine you might. You are companions, after all. But there is no doubt in my mind that she will try her very hardest to vilify me, not unlike the countless men whom would have me burn at the stake as a child. She hears only that which she wishes to hear, and is quite… fixed… in her beliefs. More inflexible than I, even, if there were such a thing. [Giggling lowly.] She has assured me that my ‘wagging my tongue’ changes nothing, so there is truly no hope for an understanding. ‘tis most unfortunate.
[His lips thin.]
Now, Belle… to find yourself caught in the midst of this feud places you in a most trying situation. I do not envy you your... confusion and anguish. But I sense I know already where you stand, me being the wretch I am and she, a glorious goddess beloved by nearly all who dwell in this cage. I imagine she rather likes anyone who neither questions her words nor challenges her authority. Many gods are nothing without their flock, and feed upon the blind faith of their dear friends and followers. Sweet little sheep like yourself, whom deserve far better than to be regarded as such. But there is power in numbers, of course, and gods, alas... tend to be greedy, selfish beings.
[He shrugs a shoulder dismissively.]
In the end… ‘tis you who shall decide what it is you wish to believe. Not her, nor I. Your mind is your own, my dear, and a clever one at that. Use it well.
[Action, March 1st]
She's always been aware that Saori is just as fallible to anger and disregard as anyone. It's what makes her so easy to get along with, despite knowing that she isn't human. She feels things and so sometimes Belle forgets just how inhuman she really is. But she's never shown that side of herself to Belle. Not even when she revealed her true form to her. The Saori that Isaac is describing sounds little like the one she has come to known.
It could be a trick. A horrible, awful trick. But what reason would he have to do such a thing? Why would he lie?
Her grip on her journal loosens and slips from her fingers, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her gaze is focused solely on Isaac.]
Why would you come? [When she finally speaks she seems to startle even herself.] Why would you come and tell me all of this if she's threatened you so? Are you so concerned for me? [Her tone makes it sound like even she doesn't believe that.] Or do you not care whether or not she makes good on her words?
[Her gaze finally drops and she sets her jaw, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bending down, she finally recovers her journal from the floor and, after a moment's hesitation, puts it back in her pocket.]
I am no sheep. And I would like it if you would stop talking to me as if you know what I am thinking or what I will do. Saori remains, as she has always been, my friend. I am no follower of hers, although I have nothing but the utmost respect for one of her kind.
As for what you have told me, I'm sorry. It seems like it was all one giant misunderstanding. Perhaps too much time has passed for either of you to be friends, but maybe I can speak to her about starting anew. Everyone deserves a second chance, should they desire one.
[Action, March 1st]
The latter question is given no answer but for a smile thinning his lips. Not a sly, vile smile or teeth bared in a snarl, but something small and reserved and tired, so tired. Tired of life in Luceti and of life in itself. The end of it has held greater appeal as of late.
Briefly glancing aside, he wets his lips.]
There was a man I knew of, once… [He begins quietly, wryly amused, his eyes glazing in thought.] And of all the men and women in the village… he alone understood a devil best. He would take the miserable creature as he was, flaws and all, and he did not have it change nor imposed his wishes upon it. Many hours he spent in the devil’s arms, sharing laughter and wine and trading favours, his presence bringing light to the darkest of places. And then, when he feared the village would lay siege to the devil’s home and take his head, he seemed to offer his loyalty… preferring to be anathema than to leave it behind.
[His smile broadens, eyes shining dully.]
‘twas a curious companionship; a perfect companionship. Two creatures unloved and in the shadows, finding some sense of belonging in each other. Or so it had seemed. But all good things come to an end. [His lips part before he’s ready and he takes a breath.] The day came... when the devil waited for its dearest friend, aching for his company. But he did not show. Hours, days, weeks passed without word. The man whom had once sought its company and so enjoyed it had forgotten all about it, and the devil grew despondent, left to wonder whether the bond they had shared was something it had only imagined in a moment of weakness. For who could love a pathetic beast? Then, at last – [He spreads his hands.] -- the man returned… and many words were shared. The devil came to learn that the man had always thought it a fool, and had only come out of pity, perhaps; out of the desire to satisfy his need to take what he had wanted. The rest… had never really mattered, in the end. [A faint, hollow laugh escapes him.]
The devil had also learned… that, sometimes, one does not know one's friends as well as one believes.
[Letting that hang heavily in the air, he finally breaks eye-contact and sets his own journal down upon the table, leafing back through the pages.]
…‘tis clear that second chances are not to be when I was supplied false information despite an attempt at civility. I have a tongue of my own; I shan't have anyone speak for me.
[When he digs up the desired recording that had been filtered to him, he turns the book her way, sliding it across the table towards her.]
[Action, March 1st]
When Isaac finally falls silent, Belle at first doesn't know what to say. Should she offer condolences-for surely this is a personal story-or should she deny it and stand up for Saori?]
I'm sorry. It is a terrible thing to be betrayed by one who you care a great deal about. However...Saori has never been anything but kind to me. It would not be right of me to so easily turn from her. This...feud that you both have is between the two of you. I do not wish to become involved.
[She steps back from his table and is about to turn to go when he sets out his journal. Curious, she remains put. Watching as he slides it towards her, she approaches the table once again and picks it up. After a moment she realizes with a start when this interaction must have taken place. Her cheeks pale and she closes her eyes as if that would so how keep her from hearing the words being said. Once the conversation dies off she closes the journal and lets it drop to the table.]
...She was concerned for me. People can become enraged when those they care about are, from their perspective, in danger. Beast would have tried going after you as well had I not deterred him. [Finally her eyes raise to meet his own.]
Would you not act in the defense of one you care about had you seen what they had?
[Action, March 1st]
[He is silent as she listens to the exchange, observing her reaction as always. Without a doubt, he would spring to Julia’s defense like a hellhound unchained and would have torn limb from limb the person responsible for poisoning Zevran. But he had neither now. Only himself, like old times.]
Would a stern glance and a simple warning not have sufficed on her part? Instead, there is this -- a threat dripping with a venomous, almost palpable hatred just waiting to be unleashed. Even your beloved Beast, furious as he was, wasn’t half as vicious when we crossed paths.
[He shuts the journal with a padded thump.]
Tell me… why is it you seem troubled by what it is you hear? Is she not merely... acting in your defense?
[A beat, his smugness expertly contained.]
She shows you kindness; of that I have no doubt. But think you, truly, she would speak a word of it to you were she to drag me someplace unseen and ravage my flesh in novel ways? Would she show you her fine work? Or would she hide it thinking it might spare you pain, and as not to let you see just how deep the darkness is within her? You might call a friend one whose faces you have not all seen... but not I. Not any longer.
[Action, March 1st]
And what of you? Would you say that I have seen all of your faces? Why should I place doubt in one of my dearest friends simply because you imply I should? Perhaps it's because I have already seen the darkness that's in you? Although I would hardly say that you try to hide it. No, whatever darkness Saori might be hiding, she does it as a kindness. But you...you hide any bit of goodness under anger and insults. Is it really easier being the devil than just being the man?
[Action, March 1st]
Never was I a man to begin with. [He chuckles softly albeit humourlessly.] There was only a devil whom was foolish enough to dream of being a man. Of being something it could never be. And soon did it fade as I was shown the error of my ways and learned my place in the world. [His smile twists into something nastier, sharp as a knife’s edge with fury and hurt. His voice drops to a seething hiss.]
How keen were many to put me in my place... men and beasts alike.
[Nothing has changed, he thinks. His eyes fall shut as he relives a moment, vivid and violent, in flashes, his hand doubling into a powerless, trembling fist. It's the sting of his nails biting deeply into his palms that draws him back. Breathing slowly with a conscious effort, his eyes slide open.]
I am what I shall always be. [His conversations with Julia echo in memory and he angrily wills away the sudden, sharp ache in his chest.]
[Action, March 1st]
Smiling a little sadly, her gaze drops down to stare unseeingly at the table.]
I've always found it silly how people cling to their "place" in life. Well, I suppose it's really only society's idea of place. Men are supposed to be strong and unyielding and must provide for their families. Women must keep the household going and bear children, as many as possible. Simple rules that were created before we were born and so we have no control over them. No choice.
[She looks up then, expression set in determination.]
I have never been so good at following those ideals, nor do I ever want to. If there truly is a place for me I shall find it myself. Or, failing that, create my own. [Pause.] You speak as if you have no choice in the matter, but that's not true. Only you can control who you are and only you can decide what you will be.
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A prisoner in an inescapable dungeon can always aspire for more, scraping and clawing his way at stone walls until his fingers bleed and are worn down to the bone. [He says, tautly.] But try as he might, in that cell he shall rot for the rest of his days. [His eyelids lower, his gaze glassy and unfeeling and fixed on her still. But staring through her, as if she were a pane of glass.] I had a choice.
To live, unafraid, no longer at the mercy of man or beast... [His Adam's apple joggles slightly.] Or to die, would I be so fortunate. For there are fates far worse than death itself. Fates that would make even a gruesome death the sweetest kindness.
[There’s a twitch of at the corner of his mouth, lips pinched.]
Such… [A snarl, barely controlled, issues through gritted teeth.] were my choices. I made mine.
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The thing about choices is that they are small, fleeting, and never ending. One choice leads to another which eventually leads to even more. They can lead us to great happiness or overwhelming regret. Yet they can always be amended. Like a child who places his hand in a fire because it looks lovely and gets burned. That choice will teach him a lesson that he either has to take to heart or continue making the same mistake.
[Her words begin to come fast, with more conviction.] Although many see this place as an inescapable prison to me it is a world far more accepting of me than my own. And it could be for you as well! Whatever choices you have made in the past have no bearing here. And I doubt people here would react as the ones in your world have. You need only give them a chance. You can hardly blame them for seeing you as a devil when you strive so hard to make it so.
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I have given more than enough to those undeserving… and I have learned from my mistake. [The words mean to strike, sharp and venomous as a viper’s bite.] Forgive me if you shan’t enjoy the gratification of guiding a lost soul to salvation; forgive me, still, if it isn’t all as simple as you think it to be. I will not be some accomplishment of yours you will look upon when it pleases you, taking great pride in your fine work.
[I shall be only that which I am. ‘tis all I have, in the end. His chest heaves.]
You speak of tolerance, of placing faith in others, of being fair. [The ‘f’ is bitterly enunciated, as if he meant to spit a much harsher word.] Were men and women as gracious as you believe, they would not dare think to force me into becoming someone they would prefer far more than this. No -- they would take me as I am, for I am not nor shall I ever be obliged to satisfy them.
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[She meets his eyes directly, jaw set, and eyes blazing.] Yet I must ask once again that you do not make up conclusion about me or my actions. If I merely saw you as an accomplishment I would have long ago set my sights on someone far more reasonable. Perhaps you simply don't know what it's like to have someone care.
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Neither I nor my affairs are any concern of yours… but should you persist, God help you, I will become one. No matter what tortures your friend is prepared to inflict.
[Even as he says it, though, he knows it'd be too impetuous of him to follow through in the manner he's suggesting. But physical threats aren't the only means of shaking off someone bothersome; they're only the most familiar to him.]
[Action, March 1st]
[Despite the conviction in her words there is a slight wariness in her eyes that hints at uncertainty. But she refuses to allow him to scare her.]
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How fortunate a woman you are –- [He purrs, lifting a hand, so slowly, with the intent to stroke her face with the backs of his gloved fingers.] -- to have a powerful guardian.
[He had one, once, whom had died long before her time.]
We were not all so... blessed. [He adds musingly, not without a hint of scorn.] But... there is a danger in relying on them, in becoming rather... comfortable with the idea that they shall be there for as long as we have need for them. For one day, sooner or later... they all disappear.
[A gentler smile comes as he finishes.]
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[Her lips thin as she battles with herself whether or not to say more. Finally she concludes that it wouldn't make things any worse.]
I believe if you meant me true harm, you would have already acted on it.
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Bold creature, he thinks.]
There are times... [He murmurs.] ...when impetuousity is most unwise.
[A soft giggle issues from him, anger seemingly forgotten for the moment.]
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I am merely speaking honestly.
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[He drawls softly, almost reassuringly, satisfied on some level by the infinitesimal hints of nervousness. For these are nuances in body language he is all too familiar with from years of laying siege to human settlements and coming to know death and the moments before very intimately.
He draws back slowly without turning, glancing aside only to collect his journal.]
[Action, March 1st]
...We're reading The Princess Bride. For the Book Club. As I haven't yet set a date you might still have time to read it.
[Action, March 1st]