silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

Ah, you're here. I'm glad to hear it.

Earlier today, I caught a cat in a net. I have reason to believe he's yours. I wonder if you'd like to come pick him up?

[Rigaldo.]

[...]

[It's not very likely he'd fail, Isley thinks. So what happened? There are only two times this has ever been an issue in the past; when they'd first met Priscilla in the North, and when Rigaldo had encountered Clare in Pieta. Both instances put Rigaldo versus a power that surpassed his own.]

[Could it be...?]

I suppose I'll have to. If you had any intention of releasing him otherwise, you'd have done so by now.

If I release him on my own... it will be one piece at a time.

But, actually, I like him. It'd be best if it didn't come to that.

He would dislike that, I think. He'd make a terrible noise.

[This is...infuriating. If only because he felt nothing—can still feel nothing, and knows not at all what to expect by agreeing to go and collect Rigaldo.]

[He wanted to learn to truly appreciate his power, well...he does now. When he needs it most. And has nothing but the sword of ice Priscilla gave to him.]

I can't say I'd appreciate the mess, either. Or the waste of time.

...The manor, then? I can be there shortly, though...I wonder. What are your intentions?

I'm giving your pet back.

You've made it clear my presence is necessary. I want to know why.

[...really? He laughs, and it's oddly pleasant.]

It's unsuitable for one who tries to have me killed to then make demands on me on top of that.

Don't be disagreeable. I'm only trying to establish whether or not you wish to gloat, or if you have less amicable plans in mind.

Shouldn't I be the one concerned about your disagreeable inclinations? I didn't send a servant to cut your throat, after all.

...You shouldn't be concerned about anything. You should be dead.

But I suppose I'll find out more regarding that when I come to collect Rigaldo, hm?

Dead because of a creature like that. How insulting.

But yes, I suppose you will.

[He goes to disconnect, and then pauses.]

Perhaps you should bring him something to wear. I would lend him something, but he doesn't seem like the kind of man who appreciates cravats.

[He, of course, wonders what kind of creature that makes Griffith, but the thought is one that finds itself derailed at the mention of bringing Rigaldo clothing to wear.]

[Since when has nudity ever been a concern for them? And since when did he fetch things for Rigaldo?]

[He sighs.]

You really are troublesome. But, I suppose I knew that when we first met.

Tell Rigaldo I will bring him something better suited to his personal preferences.

Good. Then I'll be expecting you soon.

[He knows the way, has walked it many times in the past with Priscilla, before she lost her memories. He's visited the man who used to live at the end of that way, also. Before he disappeared from Anatole and left behind everything.]

[A vacation intended for him, along with beings that should not exist. A laboratory where all of it lived, nestled cozily together in the basement of a house Griffith abducted before he could lay claim to it himself.

[It's frustrating, but not near so much as rapping his knuckles against that front door when he arrives and being unable to feel...anything. No stream of energy, no flicker, no trickle...no trace. There is no way of knowing what he's walking into, if indeed it is anything more than a simple collection.]

[That's why Frostbite rests at his hip, though it's not like to do him any good. That's why his face is blank as snow.]

[...and that's part of why he's come. After all, the curiosity he feels overrides the apprehension. It almost always does in the end.]

[When Griffith opens the door, he appears entirely unblemished. He's set aside his armor, of course - who walks around that way? - and is instead dressed in something closer to standard for him: a vest, a flowing shirt, a simple pair of pants. A cravat may be involved.]

[He also looks calm. And pleasant. And he lowers his head slightly in greeting at the sight of Isley's face.]

I'm glad you decided to come.

[He glances at the sword.]

Although, I could have done without that.

[He returns the nod, but only just.]

As if there was any question as to whether or not I would.

[He is dressed quite simply, himself. A loose, long-sleeved button-down shirt of charcoal hue, dark slacks and stout boots. Apart from his physical appearance and his sword, he looks perfectly commonplace.]

[Speaking of his sword...]

You know as well as I that it doesn't pose a threat to you.

And you brought it anyway? Don't you think that treads dangerously close to provoking?

[It's that innocent look again. But Griffith steps aside, and waves Isley to enter.]

[The landscape has changed since its former resident departed - all those minimalist decoration choices swallowed by the lux and lush: designs reminiscent of those used by Midland's aristocracy.]

[It's much more fitting a backdrop for Griffith himself.]

You really are full of interesting decisions.

Anatole has been the recent victim of various strange attacks. A sword is a useful tool capable of making short work of nuisances.

Being a swordsman yourself, you'll understand its presence, I'm sure. It's preferred to other...unnecessary methods.

[When Griffith steps aside, Isley steps across the threshold and into that strange home. It's no longer recognizable. Improved, after a fashion, but there is a part of him that regrets the absence of the minimalist decor—or perhaps mainly what, and who, it stood for.]

In any case, I sent Rigaldo to take your head. I think that treads much closer to provoking than a sheathed blade does.

[Unnecessary methods such as assassination? A flicker of annoyance crosses Griffith's face.]

So you did.

[And therein lies the rub. Griffith watchies Isley with an even gaze, and an indifferent stare, though he can't seem to withhold a slight pout.]

Why did you do that?

Edited 2012-07-17 04:09 (UTC)

[His skin should be crawling before a being that can subdue Rigaldo so effortlessly. His nerves should be frazzled. His mind should be racing, and yet...]

[Despite his initial frustration, Isley has found his calm. In acceptance. It's the only way.]

Don't pout.

[He casts a golden-eyed stare towards Griffith.]

It was nothing personal. Simply that you hold something of mine and I sought to remove the obstacle that planted itself in my way.

Do I? I wasn't aware.

[Or was he? That gaze is, at best, inscrutable.]

Many people would have asked about that.

Would you ask to take back what's yours, Griffith?

[Even if he might have done so without any harm coming to pass, it had seemed so much easier at the time to do things as he was accustomed to doing them. Removing obstacles by way of force, eradicating that which stood in his way, exterminating trespassers.]

I had been hoping to avoid long-winded conversations involving questions and the like. Killing you seemed, at the time, to be the most appealing option.

Yet, here I am anyway, stuck conversing.

[He shakes his head, and even laughs. There is a faint chill to it, like warmth bitten by frost.]

Let's just get this over with, shall we?

Hmmm.

[Yeah, still pouting. He sighs and heads past the staircase and to the lounge area, where he sort of... drapes over the purple sofa.]

It's funny, really. I wasn't surprised to find out it was you. Because, of course, I would do the same.

Even so, I find myself doing things I normally wouldn't do in this kind of situation. In the past, when someone has tried to kill me, I've always returned the favor.

[Isley follows because it's all he can do. He has no idea where Rigaldo is being held and is trying very hard not to have to ask. But when Griffith drapes himself upon that purple sofa...]

What's stopping you?

[Because really, it might just be preferable to listening to prattle when all he wants to do is collect Rigaldo and leave. Perhaps those other things which belong to him, also.]

Is it the fact that death is transient in this world? Or something else?

[Still. Standing. Because seriously, get up.]

[Nope, just going to stay here. He leans forward a little, his chin resting on his knee.]

That's a good question.

The transient nature of death is a factor. It seems like a waste of energy to kill someone when they're just going to come back. Unless their death means something in itself.

But... I'm also a little too curious about why you did it and what it is you hoped to accomplish.

What is it that I have that you want?

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