silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

[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.

...I see.

One sample belongs to you. How many belong to your friend, exactly?

Two that I'm aware of.

Edited 2012-07-18 06:47 (UTC)

When I acquired this place, I acquired it As Is - including everything within it, as well. So to call me a thief for keeping what I was given is a little unreasonable.

But. I've enjoyed our talk. So, it would be polite to give as much as I've taken... and in return for those thoughts I glimpsed... I'm sure you'd rather your samples than a peek at mine.

[Griffith sighs a little, and stands.]

This is what we will do.

I'll bring you to that room, and you can collect five: your own flesh, the flesh of your friend, and one each of the other samples. In case your promise requires their use. I really don't see why you need all of them.

After that, I'll unlock your cat and you can do as you please.

If that's acceptable, then fine. Otherwise... I expect we'll be here for a long time, engaged in an endless debate on terms I won't change.

[Perhaps it's better than he could have hoped for, but that doesn't make it any less unsatisfying. All he can do is nod, however, accepting those terms because, if he's honest, enough time's been wasted as it is and he doesn't have the power right now to change anything anyway.]

I'm not in any position to propose conditions, so I would like to ask a favor instead.

I'll accept these terms without argument—they're more than fair, all things considered—but if you could be sure those other samples don't perish...

[He frowns faintly.]

It occurs to me that they'd be safest where they are. And if it happens that they're required in the future, it would be good if they were still present. You don't have any use for them, do you? So I should be able to trust you that far...

[Although he did try to kill Griffith, and Griffith in turn admitted he has a history of retaliation.]

That's fine. Something that interesting is better kept safe than thrown into the wilderness.

[And with that the air before them... shimmers. and shivers. and then opens into a void of white light. Just as quickly, a archway opens inside that space - beyond it, there seems to be nothing but darkness.]

I removed the doors. It's much safer this way. Come.

[And off Griffith goes, through that white tunnel.]

[Well, if Griffith intended to do him harm, it would have been done by now, so Isley follows. If the light or the darkness beyond unsettles him at all, it's impossible to tell.]

[Such a power, however...it won't be forgotten.]

[A part of Isley even thinks this manor, whose previous owner also possessed strange abilities, is all the more suited to Griffith because of what he's capable of.]

...A handy ability.

Handy... but somewhat limited by the nature of this city.

[At home, he could traverse dimensions. He could grab hold of space itself, and pull it open. He could change the world.]

[But here...]

[It's temporary, of course. He tells himself this frequently. People come and go from here all the time, after all. So he's already wiped the irritation from his mind by the time he steps out the other side of the tunnel and into the pitch blackness of the cellar that once served as laboratory to a man he doesn't know.]

[He glances over his shoulder.]

Can you see in the dark?

[If not, the noises around you must be strange. Tiny scurrying sounds and barely audible whispers.]

This world itself seems determined to limit people...

[He steps through into that cellar after Griffith, and unfortunately, no, he cannot see in the dark. The sounds of scuffling are unlike those that would belong to the Abyss Feeders...and neither Abyss Feeder nor Hollow whispered that way when last he'd been here.]

[There is something—somethings?—running about loose in what was once a lab. He very nearly rests his hand upon the hilt of his sword, but stops himself, keeping his hands at his side.]

I can't see anything. What are you keeping down here?

[Well, you can see now, as a pure white light has appeared around your host... in the shape of wings. And his eyes, too, are glowing slightly - or rather his pupils have opened pale and brilliant, like staring into a silver flame.]

[But what can you see?]

[...for all intents and purposes, it's a simple lounge. A seating area, a table and gas lamp, and a stack of books on a low table in the center. There are no tables here, now. No scalpels. And the cell doors have been covered with drapes... though something still moves behind them.]

[As for the samples in question, they seem to be held in a cabinet of sorts, against the far walls.

[And if something just scurried out of the light and into the deepest pits of shadow? If even now there are things in the dark... you can't see them, at least.]

I don't keep them. They come to me. They've always come to me.

[Since that night in the tower, at least. Since he dreamed of monsters that called him prince.]

At home, the unforgiven come in supplication, but here... I can't always hear their voices. Only the ones who crawl through that Door, the way most do. Or who travel through the tunnels between worlds and are trapped, as I was trapped.

They dislike the light.

[It's not really a question. Isley was certain that he heard something nearby before Griffith illuminated the area, but there is nothing now, no sign whatsoever that anything had even been there to begin with, except for, perhaps, shifting shapes within those shadows in the corners of the room, shadows that disappear when he turns his head just so for a better look.]

...You said it was possible that Teresa was unnerved by them?

[Damn his curiosity for derailing him again today.]

I'd like to see them, these...creatures that flock to you.

They dwell in darkness. ...sometimes, I don't care for light either.

[Still, he moves to the sitting area, and sits in a lounge chair. In the next moment, he leans down, fingers dipping against the shadows, and when he draws his hand back... something follows.]

[It's small - even smaller than his hand. And grotesque by any standard. But it nestles its head against his fingertips and Griffith looks at it with... something resembling affection.]

Some are larger, some are smaller. Some are more or less intelligent. But they come to me. As I said... even a demon can recognize its king.

[Within him burns a small desire to destroy that grotesque figure, small though it may be. Accompanying that desire, however, is one equally strong, to touch the decrepit beast the same way in which Griffith is doing, to hold it, better see it up close, as if, although unlikely, it could help him better understand the man who calls himself a king of those demons.]

[He even takes a few steps nearer before he stops, reconsiders, and speaks instead.]

Darkness and light go hand-in-hand. I can't say I care more for one or the other, myself. Though in truth I suppose it's circumstantial.

[A few more steps. Not far away now at all.]

May I?

[Hold onto that. Terribly deformed. Pathetic. Hideous looking. Thing.]

The one who shoulders the light, dwells within the deepest shadows. And, it is exactly in darkness itself, that the true light can be found.

[Griffith looks up, and smiles with that innocent face.]

...it's funny. I've said that to someone else, recently.

[He gestures slightly, and the little thing scurries onto his hand. Carefully, he lifts it up, holding it out to Isley.]

I assume you mean it no harm.

How poetic.

[But it's true. Nature itself is comprised of multiple faces, so is it any wonder that light and dark, like good and evil, are simply different sides of the same coin?]

[It's one more thing he and Griffith have in common, as if they needed another. Human forms shrouded in light, and otherworldly forms shrouded in darkness.]

[As he steps closer, taking that wretched unforgiven thing into his hands, he lifts it up to eye level and speaks softly.]

I won't harm it, even if I do find it repulsive. So, tell me, who was it you said that to?

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