silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

[Isley examines one of his hands, holding it up before him.]

Of course you don't feel anything emanating from me. It's because there is...nothing to emanate. Or rather, it is out of reach for the time being.

But you've felt a part of my power, I'm sure. After all, one of the limbs in those jars physically belongs to me. Another is that of a friend, yes. [Priscilla.] And the remainder...well, if you don't care about that promise, I see no reason to elaborate. It's important to me, to say the least.

[His gaze travels from his hand to Griffith's face at that moment.]

...As to what I am, that's a bit more difficult to explain. The names themselves will mean nothing to you, and I can't show you anything. I used to be human, once...a very long time ago. Now, I'm anything but. In my world I'm referred to as an Abyssal One.

"Abyssal One."

[Griffith repeats the words quietly, almost to himself - as though he's tasting every syllable.]

...I like grandiose names. They convey a great deal about their owners. Are you a creature like Rigaldo?

Like is relative. In some ways yes, in others...no.

Our awakened forms couldn't be more different from one another, and the same can be said of our powers. There is a reason he serves me and not the other way around. But...we're both Awakened Beings, yes.

[...]

Which leaves me wondering exactly what you are. You said he cut you, but I see no trace. There aren't many who have met Rigaldo in battle and have lived to tell the tale.

I am the Hawk. I thought I'd mentioned it before.

[He smiles a little. And then sighs.]

Awakened Beings. You remind me of the Apostles of home. Former humans, possessing a human and a demonic form. Some stronger than others. Some larger than others. Rigaldo reminds me most sharply of my own closest companion. His temperament, especially. Each of them seethes with rage beneath their stoic exteriors... though Zodd is significantly quicker to speak. Still, he's no quicker to betray his commander.

Your Rigaldo... he's a good soldier. He never did tell me who sent him.

Edited (oops, that made it sound like zodd would rat Griff out. XD) 2012-07-18 01:13 (UTC)

...The Hawk. That has no meaning to me. I don't understand it.

But you're not human. I should have known. I might have if, perhaps, the timing had been just a little different.

[He stands, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes resting upon the doorway they'd entered the living area by way of.]

Were you also human once? Or are you...simply something else altogether?

[Quite clearly he doesn't want to think about what Rigaldo is like, or who he is like. It does not sit well with him that they have yet another thing in common...but for him to be the one at such a great disadvantage.]

[And he'd leave it at that, too, if not for that last bit.]

...I'm quite aware of his worth as a soldier; I never expected he would tell you. Which raises the question, how did you find out?

No... you wouldn't have known, even then. My masks run deeper than flesh.

[He looks down, running those questions through his mind. Should he answer them? He doesn't really have any reason not to - he's already been in the city long enough for his pretense to have served its purpose, and there is something really annoying about swallowing his pride all the time. It's far too similar to those years spent clawing his way up the social ladders in Midland, or scraping for work as a mercenary. And humility has never come easily to him.]

[Still. Speaking of that pride, his hackles are still slightly raised from before.]

[Ah well.]

If I were to answer anything at all... I would expect those answers to remain between us. My secrets, after all, are my own to reveal.

Can you say that they would?

I meant simply that we're...enough alike as it is—I should have known.

[Still, mention of masks makes him think of suppression. Is it similar in the way that it works? It must be, or Rigaldo would have reported feeling a power emanating from Griffith much sooner. The city would have known...]

[But there's something else that's bothering Isley now. Something in...the name. The choice of words. The timing. Everything is coming together...and he finds himself staring at that face so much like his own. Staring, with a better understanding of the power that this man is capable of.]

...I have no reason to tell anyone anything. You're my business, and mine alone.

Although...

[He finds a smile somewhere.]

I think perhaps I know what is meant by the Hawk, now. That was you, wasn't it? Who first arrived and encountered Teresa of the Faint Smile in the ruins.

That was... Femto, called the Wings of Darkness... among other things.

[Still smiling, still looking slightly downward.]

An aspect of me. Or am I an aspect of him? It's difficult to say. But yes... I was human, once.

It wasn't so long ago. Only a handful of years.

Femto...you're younger than I am, if that's true.

And to think, you were right in front of my eyes this whole time. At the Welcome Party the same night you arrived, even in my own home...

[He isn't sure whether he should be laughing or shaking his head right now, so he settles for staring at the floor, a smile in place that is, for lack of a better word, so weightless that a mere breath might make it disappear.]

I've been wanting to cross paths with you. [He spoke of as much to Miata, although...] This is not how I would have had it come to pass. It's very disappointing...

Perhaps for that I can sincerely say I am sorry.

I'm not very old at all, really. I'm only twenty-seven.

[And his smile is appropriately young - even younger than his actual age, in fact. Perhaps that part of him, as Guts once said, will never change.]

Well, in any case, one way is as good as another. Why did you want to meet?

[There is that breath, come to steal the smile. He looks troubled now instead, as he sometimes does when things escape his understanding.]

Some might say for the challenge, and I might agree, except...I don't feel any particular compulsion to try and prove who the stronger between us is.

You infuriate me at times, but I would imagine it's in the same way that I infuriate others. You remain...pleasant company. Yet...an obstacle. I would remove you, but presently I am unable to. And now I'm not even sure I want to because...

[He stops. Shakes his head, brow furrowing.]

I don't know why. I thought it would become clear when our paths crossed, but I still have no idea. And because of this it is even more complicated...

[Priscilla would say he was over-thinking things. She would be right.]

...I suppose I wanted to know you. It wasn't your power that caught my attention, after all. I couldn't feel it then, as I can feel nothing now. Not an ounce.

Rather...it was that you didn't kill Teresa. You could have, but you didn't. It was trivial, but still so curious.

Why should I kill her? She was such a little thing.

...besides. People, like all creatures, sometimes act thoughtlessly, or from poor knowledge or conditioning. They are raised, or taught, to think one way and have very little chance to reconsider until they reach that moment. The moment when the undefeated finds himself on his knees in the dark. The moment when the pagan turns away from the face of his false gods. When king recognizes his master, and a demon recognizes its king. When warrior's blade falls to pieces in the snow. And flesh burns away to sinew and then to bone, and then to ash, and everything changes.

Until that moment, too many simply coast around on their previous experiences or what their parents taught them, or what their schools have said, applying those things all willy-nilly to everything in sight.

[He pauses for a moment, and all the youth has gone from his face, as has the levity.]

That woman claimed to be defending the city from me. But, obviously, I had no intention of harming the city. Perhaps she was unnerved by the unforgiven ones. But regardless... if she thought of me as a creature with hostile intent then she acted with hubris, but without understanding. To kill such a small thing over a misunderstanding... it seems pointless. It seems unnecessary.

When it comes to opposition, be it from man or beast, demon or spirit, I would prefer to give them a chance to find their moment. If they do not... then I act appropriately at that time.

I'm not implying you should have killed her, only that other creatures more powerful than she might have done as much, and without thinking.

[Once he was one of them.]

[He recalls, for a moment, coming across two stray warriors attempting to disguise themselves in his midst. He still remembers the way they had trembled, the lie from Deneve's lips when Helen faltered. And he recalls the way he nearly cut Deneve in two, the revulsion their behavior filled him with. Scurrying around like rats, he'd thought at that time...they should die like rats.]

[Things are a little different now. Perhaps because he has encountered his own moment several times over. His family's slaughter at the hands of beasts, and his abduction by men clad in black. Bending the knee to a small woman in the North, their naked frames and the spots of blood in the frosty streets the only splashes of color in the otherwise monochromatic winterland. The feeling of teeth tearing into his flesh, eradicating him one bite at a time, and staring into those hideous inhuman faces.]

[Yes, everything changed then...and if not for Anatole it would have been too late. There were moments here as well, of course. They seemed to be gradually accumulating, and perhaps this was, now, the pinnacle.]

...Is that what you've been doing, then? Waiting for me to find my moment?

[Glimpses of a horn breaking...and being whole again. Like Rigaldo's claws cutting into this man, only for there to be no trace of harm being done at all. The feeling of cold snow against his knees, and hot blood pouring from an open wound where his right arm used to be. Like the chill he feels settled against his spine now, and the way his blood still pumps hot, excited, through his veins.]

[She was crying then...but there are no tears now. So, what is there?]

[Griffith narrows his eyes slightly at the sudden rush of thoughts and images - death and blood, defeat and rebirth. And normally he wouldn't invade another's mind without cause but in this case... perhaps its the intensity of the thoughts, the memories, the feelings... but it seems less of an invasion than an acceptance.]

[In the end, he closes his eyes briefly, and then shakes his head.]

Really, it was a philosophical point. It has nothing to do with you.

You have already faced your defeat, haven't you? Another similarity, it seems. I, too, once found myself broken upon a bed of snow.

At that time, I lost everything. And when I thought I had fallen as far as I could... I found there was further yet to go. And then, in the pits of my blackest despair... even further.

It was only then that my human hopes could die... and my true dream could be revealed.

[So he can see into the minds of others, read their thoughts? That explains some things.]

...I was beaten, not broken.

[Never broken. Except when everything had ended, and even then, one door had closed, but another had opened. A new beginning had presented itself to him.]

[It reminds him of the time he and Griffith spoke of phoenixes, however. It's an uncomfortable thought. Not a cycle he wants to be a part of, but he's died in this place once already, twice in his lifetime, so is it not a pattern he's already doomed to keep repeating?]

You've abandoned your humanity? Was it worth it?

[When suffering so profound as to make someone rip himself apart is confronted, a heart is frozen.]

[He had heard those words, once. So far, they have proven entirely true. Now, he doesn't regret anything he's done, but sometimes he wonders... if he could regret, would he?]

[Would it still seem worthwhile if he still had the capacity to miss those he left behind?]

[...]

[No. he knows the truth, doesn't he? Nothing has really changed since that day in the river, carving bloody lines into his flesh. His dream had always been a bloody one. And as for his humanity...]

By the time I did, there was barely any humanity left to cast away. And I had lost everything of consequence to me. And everyone.

What is there to regret?

Edited 2012-07-18 05:16 (UTC)

Nothing, I suppose, if you truly lack the capacity to feel regret.

[There are subtle differences between himself and Griffith, Isley realizes. Well, differences that seem subtle at first glance, but beneath the surface run infinitely deep.]

[Where Griffith lost everyone, or claims to have, Isley pushed them away in order to protect them. In both cases their isolation was their undoing, but one chose to walk that path, and the other was forced to walk it. Neither had known it meant ruination at the time...or rebirth.]

[For Griffith, in his world. And for Isley...here in Anatole.]

I was merely curious. It's not really important...

[Or is it? Again, he doesn't know.]

If I lack the capacity to feel regret....

[Is it the capacity he lacks? Or the inclination? He no longer feels the pull of those old strings... usually. Perhaps it's as simple as not regretting it because he no longer cares?]

You know. I'm not really sure whether or not I do. I wasn't given to regrets even as a man.

It's better to choose your path wisely than wish you'd chosen another.

...We agree on that, unsurprisingly.

[He's had few regrets in his own life, and he still doesn't regret the choice he made to target Griffith. The outcome was unfortunately in favor of the other man, but the overall experience has been...illuminating. He does not think he could have said the same for the alternative.]

You'll forgive my derailing, I hope, but I've put off asking long enough. Would tell me if Rigaldo was harmed in any way?

[Such a pleasant smile, really. Griffith glances up at the ceiling.]

No.

There wouldn't have been any point in hurting him. He was only your tool.

Besides, I enjoyed his spirit.

[...]

What is it, exactly, that you want from that cellar? Samples of flesh, yes, but how many and what sort of flesh? There were a great many things there.

[He feels relief.]

[Once Rigaldo's life had been perfectly expendable, and perhaps it still is, but it also means more to him now than it ever has before. This is a fact that grates on Isley's nerves, although, much like everything else about this situation, he recognizes that it is something he brought upon himself.]

He can be rather spirited when he wants to be. He was known back where we come from...to go into the worst of blood frenzies.

You should call him Silver-Eyed Lion King sometime. He dislikes it, but I find it rather amusing.

As for those items...

[He closes his eyes and sighs.]

All those with an energy signature similar to Rigaldo's. I'm not certain of their number. I'm afraid the last time I was in the laboratory I was rather distracted by something else.

Aren't you a Silver King? So many Kings floating around.

[He sighs a little, wistful, and then turns his lazy gaze on Isley again at that answer.]

There are four different signatures of that kind. I can't imagine all of them belong to you.

Edited 2012-07-18 06:16 (UTC)

It's really just a name like any other. Such things are common amongst the warriors where I am from. Although perhaps in my case it held more merit.

The entire North was my territory.

[But he'd rather not delve into that, so he meets that gaze.]

As I said, one physically belongs to me. The other is that of a friend's, and those remaining are important to me because of a promise that I made.

[He could say a great deal about territory - about kings and kingdoms. About land and names. But instead, he finds himself frowning and dropping his head a bit.]

I see. I think you should tell me about that promise after all, if you intend to remove things from my home on the basis of it.

It's really quite simple. [If loathsome.] I gave my word that I would protect someone. That person...was previously experimented upon by the last occupant of this residence. Using bits of that flesh.

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