silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

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?

[Griffith sits motionlessly, hands folded almost primly in his lap as he watches Isley with that tiny thing.]

The Emperor Ganishka. A twice-ascended Apostle. When I arrived here, I was in the middle of dealing with him.

If it hadn't been such inconvenient timing, perhaps I wouldn't have been so short with that woman.

[Its skull is so small that Isley is certain he could crush it if he squeezed it between his fingers. Its body is so fragile looking that, if he wanted to, he could twist it apart and have it fall to pieces in his hands.]

[But even though it's an assault to his aesthetic senses, even though he hates this thing for existing, because it is small and weak, incapable of doing anything besides cling to the one that holds it and watch them with eyes pitiably too large for its head...despite all of that, he continues to observe it. He continues to be interested in the way it sits, featherlight, in the palm of his hand, and fascinated by the fact that there are more all around them, out of sight and hiding.]

I think, in your position, I might also have been cross with the timing.

[He offers the creature back to Griffith then.]

...I should collect what I've come for.

[Although a part of him wants to linger.]

Edited 2012-07-18 09:32 (UTC)

[Griffith accepts the little thing onto his fingers, and then lowers it to the ground where it scurries back into the shadows.]

Of course. The... samples are inside the cabinet.

[He stands again, and opens said cabinet.]

Ah, I sorted them by energy signature. Just in case there was some kind of relevance to it. The energy your kind apparently gives off is very different than mine. I haven't quite figured out how to read it properly yet.

[And he steps back.]

But take what you came for.

[Golden eyes follow that misshapen creature into the shadows, then return to Griffith as the man stands, positions himself before the cabinet, and opens it up. Within...Isley can see the jars he's familiar with, but he can sense no energy from any of the samples therein.]

[He wanders near, brushing his fingertips across the glass jar containing Priscilla's arm.]

...it's called yoki. It's more of a physical energy, if that helps.

[The jar is pulled from the shelf, and at that moment he looks sidelong toward Griffith.]

If you could help me carry them back to the living area, Rigaldo can help bring them back to my home.

[...as though Griffith is going to do physical labor. He just kind of levitates the containers.]

A physical energy. That does explain things. The power of my world is exclusively spiritual. Though it does, of course, affect the physical realm.

[As those containers lift into the air, levitated by some unseen force, Isley watches and feels a brief pang of envy. Until today he had been doing relatively well without his yoki, but these constant reminders that he is powerless in a presence like Griffith's...]

[He wonders, Is this how Rigaldo feels around me, and is this how Riful felt when Priscilla stood before her?]

...Does it have a name, that energy of yours? Many of those I've encountered from other worlds, those with varying energy signatures, seem to have a name by which that energy is referred to. Of course, still many more simply call it magic.

[Still holding the jar containing Priscilla's arm, Isley glances toward Griffith and waits for him to take the lead. After all, Rigaldo has been made to wait long enough.]

Edited 2012-07-18 17:36 (UTC)

Od. The spiritual force that binds and guides the entities of the astral plane.

[And then... another white tunnel, and at the end of it... a dimly lit attic room, currently holding one nude man.]

After you.

✖ IC CONTACT #3

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Action 8D hey guys whats up

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Action, phoenix!