Troublesome times in Sanctuary

[I think I am here.]

17 hours ago, Sorana said:

“Tell me about yourself." You ask him instead. "Some interesting tidbit."

I feel like a fish caught in a stream, or perhaps one caught in a net, except it’s a net of my own making. I feel pulled to Raphael’s words. The way he tempts me with the answer right around the corner, just after we finish smoking — it’s agonising, in a good way. I follow his example in using an ashtray, though I couldn’t care less about ash on my attire. It would just fit in.

Fairytales, having truth to them? He says he uses them as inspiration, and whatever he’s thinking of I can feel it’s something big. Something connected to what I hoped to find when I followed him here. The grand reveal. But only given to me in bits and pieces. It’s alright, I decide. I rather like how things are going, the conversation, the tempting. As I blow smoke away I see how the firelight casts long shadows, giving a vaguely ominous look to our arrangement.

He asks about me, and the question seems direct enough to pierce through whatever aura of mystery I’ve cultivated. Usually jobs are no questions asked — from either side. But I suppose this is far from a usual job. Still, it’s been a long while since I’ve been the main focus of my own analysis.

“I have a scar on my right shoulder. I’ve broken almost every limb at least once. Got a small burn mark on my back.” I stop as I realise these are probably not the things Raphael’s looking for. These are facts, just there to divert the attention off of me. Who I am, truly. A tidbit.

“My name’s not really Sloane,” I say, let the little fact slide. “I don’t know my real name.”

Let him nibble on that fact, I decide.

“And now, something about you.”

[AonEne]

Quote

What’s your favorite fairy tale?...Have you heard of the Four Maidens? 

Sorry, couldn’t help myself 

 

[+Sorana]

17 hours ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“And now, something about you.”

His real name. That is far more interesting than anything you hoped for. It hints at a dark, maybe lonely past with someone who had given him that name. Maybe he had even named himself. Sloane. You repeat it in your head and look at the man sitting next to you. With his dark cloths and and your bright ones, you have to look like a brilliant painting sitting here - a sight you didn't even need to plan. You are drawn to him, to the questions he opens up with his answers, to the observant way he drinks in every little detail.

"It's a good name for you." Your eyes move to his shoulder and the scar that is hidden somewhere beneath his cloths and you wonder if any of his previous broken bones still pain him until today. It's possible, depending on whoever treated him and with what kind of means. Thinking about something you could tell him you look back at the fire. You know that he will now see the profile of your face, the way you tilt your head forwards and look into the flames. It's a good image, although you nearly unconciously move your body in an advantageous way, for once not actively trying to impress him. The fire. You could talk about the fire.

Now that the thought is here, it doesn't let you go again. There is no need to tell him, you could have gone with something else, something easy and simple. But it's tempting. You will show him your cellar. He will see. So there is no real reason the come up with some lame fact right now. You puff your cigar again, eyes not leaving the fire and hold the smoke in your lungs for a moment before exhaling. Memories of pain flash in front of your eyes, of searing hot flames, of strange tasting potions poured down your throat. You inhale again, try to come up with something else and fail. Somehow, you want him to see. "This is not the body I was born with." You say quietly, still not looing at him.

[I think I am here.]

For maybe the first time tonight silence grips the conversation. His pause seems different than all of the times before, and I notice his gaze transfixed on the fire, the long shadows now framing his face, his hair, the body he claims he was not born with.

Maybe the pause is different because it’s honest. Not for effect. The look to the fire is honest. I draw out another puff of my cigar and as a small pillar of smoke rises from my Churchill I feel a pulse of satisfaction.

Real actions. Quid pro quo. I shared a bit about me, and now Raphael’s shares his. And while I feel like it’s a step forward in getting to know this enigmatic figure, it’s only a piece, a branch of wood in the fireplace of my mind, ready to be consumed and for the next to be given. Only then will I have the full picture.

“Well, you carry it well,” I say, my mind whirring. Another Returned? It would fit with his perfect appearance. Or something else? Not a Kandra or Aimian, surely. But, who knows? I was just talking about having the full picture.

“I have to say, I would have never guessed.”

[+Sorana]

21 minutes ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“I have to say, I would have never guessed.”

You turn your head, look over at him. "Few would. It's considered a masterpiece. Unique." And most of the time, nobody knew it, or had no way to detect it. It wasn't like you were consisting of gears and cables. Looking at him, you lean back into your seat again, muse over his other words. You carry your body well. "Was that a compliment?" You ask him and a smile creeps back on your face. It's nice to hear that he appreciates what you have created. Your father gave you even skin and a nice face, but the muscles, the soft glow of you skin and your healthy hair are the results of year-long training and hard work. So many think that beauty is a natural gift and while that might be true for some, most of the the time it can be achieved if you are willing to spend some time.

Despite your usual facade, you are waiting for his reply, wonder if he meant it, or only set the words in the room because he noticed that you care for this. You reach out for your wine to cover for your excitement, take a sip and deliberatetly place it back on the table. Turning your body a little around you rest one ankle on your knee in a comfortable position and rest your head against the cushion.

[I think I am here.]

I notice Raphael take a sip of his wine and it redirects my attention to the cup of whiskey I’ve been neglecting. I’m seldom known to smoke and drink at once, but storm it, it’s not like it’ll have an effect on me anyway. Tilting my cigar hand a bit to the side I puff out another ring of smoke and reach for my whiskey.

“It was, as a matter of fact,” I respond to him and lean back in my seat. A part of me feels like it’s against my nature to so openly admit to giving out a compliment, but I’m no longer in my home alley. A sip of my whiskey cools my throat and yet warms my up heart, and watch Raphael. Even now, his position looks like a pose, a subtle show of his body and it clicks.

That’s probably why he cares so much how his body looks and how clean it is — he refers to his body as an artwork, a masterpiece. Definitely not the vocabulary of an Aimian or Kandra, who switch bodies too quick to care about any particular one. But whatever body he has now, he appreciates enough to want to make sure nothing bad happens to it. The signs were there from the moment he walked into the bar, and now it feels I’m going back and connecting the dots in my mind.

Which only leads me to go the other way, to go into the future and extrapolate into the dark. His switching of bodies, his cleanliness and care for neatness seems to be a core part of him, I wonder if it has anything to do with what he wants to show me. He did say he was a doctor. Something surgical? I blink. Surgery — is surgery what he means when he says he’s not in his original body? It would have to be some special kind of surgery I’ve never seen before — but maybe.

And yet... his previous comments about fairy tales throw me off. What was he alluding to there? I curse internally. I still don’t have enough information. But I will. And the prospect is alluring. I decide I need to test my current hypothesis before leaping to further observations. I take a sip of my whiskey.

“Surgery is an impressive thing,” I say causally, try to judge his reaction. Hopefully his reaction will say enough. “I don’t know much about it myself, though. Too complex for me. Though, I suppose you would know a thing or two about it?”

At the end I find the ends of my lips flickering upwards in a telling smile as I meet his eyes.

Edited January 6, 2020 by Ookla the Maybe-Existent

[+Sorana]

6 hours ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“Surgery is an impressive thing,” I say causally, try to judge his reaction. Hopefully his reaction will say enough. “I don’t know much about it myself, though. Too complex for me. Though, I suppose you would know a thing or two about it?”

At the end I find the ends of my lips flickering upwards in a telling smile as I meet his eyes.

So it was a compliment. Warmth spreads inside of your chest at the confirmation. Of course your servants tell you, that you look great. If course your sister told you that she admires your skin and your hair. But they are family. Their compliments and shallow as water. This one though. The short sentence without any flourished words around it, this is a real compliment. And while you itch to ask what he likes best, you hold back, let the fact that Sloane likes how you look be enough for the moment.

Instead you watch him, as he falls silent for a while, thinking about something and then change the topic completely. Surgery. Or more specifically, your knowledge about surgery.

"That is absolutely possible." You reply and answer to his smile with one of your own. So he made the connection betwen your body and your profession. "It is a very fascinating field of study." You add, still smiling and lift your cigar to your lips again, falling silent while you inhale, draw the thick smoke into your lungs and only continue to speak after you've exhaled. "There are so many connections inside of a body, muscle sinew, bones, joints, and they all interact with each other. If you chance a little thing, you might need to change a lot of other things as well."

Your eyes wander to his right shoulder and you lean a little forward. "I could take a look at your scar." You offer, careful not to sound too eager, although the thought of Sloane half dressed lying on your operation table makes your heart jump. "I am pretty sure, I am able to do something about it."

[I think I am here.]

21 hours ago, Sorana said:

Your eyes wander to his right shoulder and you lean a little forward. "I could take a look at your scar." You offer, careful not to sound too eager, although the thought of Sloane half dressed lying on your operation table makes your heart jump. "I am pretty sure, I am able to do something about it."

Raphael smiles, speaks of surgery and I know I’m correct in the direction I take. Surgery. An interesting field. It narrows down what he could show me, what he truly does, and yet it eludes me all the same. And then, that tangent on fairy tales.

I feel like I’m playing a game of chess, or multiple games of chess like a war on many fronts, all while trying to connect seemingly random dots. My smile retreats to its normal resting potion, slightly frowning and I think of his offer to check my soldier.

“The scar has long-since healed, and doesn’t bother me,” I say, don’t accept or deny his offer and yet throw the ball in his court again.

“I admit, though, I thought the thing about scars was that they’re supposed to be permanent.”

[+Sorana]

19 minutes ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“I admit, though, I thought the thing about scars was that they’re supposed to be permanent.”

"Nothing is permament." You reply softly and snuff out your cigar in the ashtray. "Especially not here. Not in this place of alleys and guilds, in this endless conflict of power and control and experiments." And yet you remain sitting for now, reach for your glass of wine and take another sip, despite the lightness of your head. You need to stop drinking, and soon, the next thing is loosing control of your body and you hate this. Soon. Not yet, but soon. You can get drunk when he is gone. But not now. With a wave of your hand you have Taron take the wine and the remains of your cigar away and turn back to the fire, while you wait for Sloane to finish.

You don't repeat your offer, once has to be enough, reign in the temptation to convince him right here and now. "Scared flesh can be healed, if you know what you do." You add mostly to fill the silence. "I find you can do a lot if you know what you are doing."

He is frowning again, staring at you intently, as if he wishes he could read your thoughts and you can feel his gaze despite looking at the fire. "Why did you choose to be a detective?" You ask him and level your gaze at him.

[I think I am here.]

23 hours ago, Sorana said:

He is frowning again, staring at you intently, as if he wishes he could read your thoughts and you can feel his gaze despite looking at the fire. "Why did you choose to be a detective?" You ask him and level your gaze at him.

“It felt like it was what I needed to become,” I answer squarely and meet his gaze. The answer is I wasn’t sure myself, but I had the inkling that doubt in myself wasn’t a pleasant thing to bring to conversation. So, instead I close it off by stating another truth: it was a feeling.

“Where I come from, it’s like a ecosystem,” I say and as Taron takes his wine away I finish my whiskey. I don’t want to hold up arrangements. My cigar still goes strong, though. I blow another puff of smoke away as I look at Raphael.

“And every time an element of the system disappears, an identical one comes to fill its place. Like a well-oiled machine.” I take a break to try and gauge his reaction before continuing.

“We’re all products of our environment, I’m sure that’s a fact which transcends alleys. In my case...” I shrug. “You could say it was like that.”

[+Sorana]

49 minutes ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“We’re all products of our environment, I’m sure that’s a fact which transcends alleys. In my case...” I shrug. “You could say it was like that.”

There is a meaning behind his words, something more than he really says, a little fact about his past that is important enough that he spend several sentences on it, without ever stating it clearly. Even after considering his words for a while, you have no idea what he means. Probably one of the other worlds connecting to this place. You don't know a lot about them, not in general at least. The moment it wasn't about knowledge that benefits your cause you skipped it, focussing solely on your one goal.

"Take your time." You say when he finishes his whiskey. "I rarely smoke a whole cigar in one evening, please don't feel pressured by me finishing earlier." You agree to his last words though, we are all products of our environment. It's true and it fits your slight alcohol induced melancholy well. If things had been different, would you still be here, exchanging witty comments with a guy? Would you still find the though of slicing him open to remove a scar that doesn't bother him alluring? Maybe, maybe not. Fact is, you do.

"Without our environment, we would be nothing." You agree loudly, don't avoid his eyes when he meets your glance. "We meet someone, we make a decision and we have to carry the consequences. We hope for things that might happen, and while some do, some never will."

"I have found, that more often than not, we need to jump and see what happens. We need to take a risk and if we're like stride away prideful with a regard." You mean the words the way you say them, Sloane is a risk you took, and wether you will stride away with a price in your hands remains open. But so far, you don't regret taking it at all.

Edited January 8, 2020 by Sorana

[I think I am here.]

“I agree, at least in the basic sense,”

I say. At his words of not rushing I draw out my next puff with the cigar, a silent show I listened to and understood his past words. But his present words are the ones that interest me the most. To jump and see what happens. You could say I jumped when I chose to follow this man, that my entire career is a risk when I’m dealing with mobsters, money and guns.

“But, it should be done in moderation. No one wants too much change of the formula.”

At least, not where I’m from. Sure, you can have a detective take a risk and gamble against a mob boss. Sure, you can have him win and lose. But, going too far? Gambling everything? Attacking people in a civilised space? That’s how you find yourself in the gutter.

It’s a mutual understanding I share with the criminals, dames and other detectives of my alley. No one oversteps what they’re supposed to be. A detective is supposed to be prying and curious. A mobster, vicious and violent. There is no in-between, no shades of grey in the land of black and white. A perfect system.

[+Sorana]

You watch him continue to smoke his cigar, silently acknowledging your words. He seems a little out of place in your stool, with his blacks and whites, as if all colour vanished from the spot where his is and left only this man behind. Taking your time you use the light of the fire to watch how he holds the cigar, how his hair reflects the flickering light. He looks young, about your age and you suspect that he might be as old as you are, give or take a year.

Shaking your head your continue to leave your eyes on him. "I disagree." You state simply, "If you aren't willing to change the formula, you will never move past your current success."

You reach out for the glass of water Taron left for you, admire your hand as it closes around the cool glass. The movement makes your suit coat fall slightly open, showing more of the cream coloured shirt you wear beneath. You like the buttons of this shirt, they have a soft, gently shimmer to them as if they they are gently highlights of the otherwise plain shirt. Leaning back again you take a sip of the water and then rest the glass on the armrest, before you continue to speak.

"When you change a formula completely you can only guess at the results. And while wild speculation can be a nice experiment on its own," you make a small, deliberate gesture with your free hand visibly discarding that option, "You need to keep some factors within borders you can control, so that you are able to take a step in the right direction."

"And then there are those risks, that you can't really grasp at the beginning. Situations that draw you to them, that call to you until you take a risk that has the potential to destroy you completely."

@Ookla the Maybe-Existent

Edited January 12, 2020 by Sorana
tagged you for reference purpose, cause the thread has grown active again

[Elend Venture]

     Rhode discreetly slipped back into the tavern, walking directly into the cocky young man he had been targeting earlier, feigning drunkenness and spilling his drink down the front of the man's suit, staining it violet. He mumbled a string of extremely offensive words at the dandy and knocked the chap's hat off with a sweep of the hand.

     The fellow shoved Rhode away, and he fell back with minimal resistance. As this went on, the tall fellow (Rhode had begun to call him Cocky in his mind) drew himself up with as much dignity as he could manage and returned his feathered cap to his head.

     "Who, might this be who insults my honor with such brash language and action?" Said Cocky, slurring several of his words as he asked the question. He drew his sword part-way out of it's scabbard.

     Rhode straightened and partially drew his own short sidesword. Aluminium hilt light in his hand. "It's Rhode, and I'll trust you to add a 'Lord' to my name when you address me!" He said, also slurring his words a little. He didn't really have a title, but this man didn't know that. He wasn't well known in these, parts, and he hadn't had a duel here yet. If this went well, both of those things would change very shortly.

     "I'll have that cocky behavior whipped right out of you tomorrow," Said Cocky. "I challenge you to a duel with rapiers to first blood, 'Your Lordship."

     "Where?" Asked Rhode.

     "At the city's Central Plaza at dawn, you loathsome bastard." Said Cocky, slipping his rapier back into its intricate scabbard.

     "Your challenge is accepted. I select the King as my second, should he allow it." Said Rhode, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

     As he left, he gave the Radiant a little bow and said "I'll be seeing you at five-thirty tomorrow morning at the Central Plaza should you wish it, Your Majesty."

     Without another word he pushed open the door and walked out into the rain, reflecting on the night's events and wondering if the storming mad Knight Radiant would show up as his second for his first real duel in months.

     The thought of the coming contest and following blood exhilarated him as he strode down the wet street toward his own tavern.

@Rushu42

     

Edited January 10, 2020 by Elend Venture

[Rushu42]

4 hours ago, Elend Venture said:

     Rhode discreetly slipped back into the tavern, walking directly into the cocky young man he had been targeting earlier, feigning drunkenness and spilling his drink down the front of the man's suit, staining it violet. He mumbled a string of extremely offensive words at the dandy and knocked the chap's hat off with a sweep of the hand.

     The fellow shoved Rhode away, and he fell back with minimal resistance. As this went on, the tall fellow (Rhode had begun to call him Cocky in his mind) drew himself up with as much dignity as he could manage and returned his feathered cap to his head.

     "Who, might this be who insults my honor with such brash language and action?" Said Cocky, slurring several of his words as he asked the question. He drew his sword part-way out of it's scabbard.

     Rhode straightened and partially drew his own short sidesword. Aluminium hilt light in his hand. "It's Rhode, and I'll trust you to add a 'Lord' to my name when you address me!" He said, also slurring his words a little. He didn't really have a title, but this man didn't know that. He wasn't well known in these, parts, and he hadn't had a duel here yet. If this went well, both of those things would change very shortly.

     "I'll have that cocky behavior whipped right out of you tomorrow," Said Cocky. "I challenge you to a duel with rapiers to first blood, 'Your Lordship."

     "Where?" Asked Rhode.

     "At the city's Central Plaza at dawn, you loathsome bastard." Said Cocky, slipping his rapier back into its intricate scabbard.

     "Your challenge is accepted. I select the King as my second, should he allow it." Said Rhode, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

     As he left, he gave the Radiant a little bow and said "I'll be seeing you at five-thirty tomorrow morning at the Central Plaza should you wish it, Your Majesty."

     Without another word he pushed open the door and walked out into the rain, reflecting on the night's events and wondering if the storming mad Knight Radiant would show up as his second for his first real duel in months.

     The thought of the coming contest and following blood exhilarated him as he strode down the wet street toward his own tavern.

@Rushu42

     

King Alderbon watched with a raised eyebrow as the man started a fight with minimal provocation. He had also claimed a title; interesting. Perhaps it was worth going to the duel just to gain more information on this man. 

"You are second to no man!" Ranted his spren in his head. "His ignorance must be punished!" 

Peace, Alderbon responded, still staring at the door. The city will learn of me soon enough. 

He glanced back at the insolent girl, and his fingers twitched on the hilt of his Blade. He stopped himself; it is not lawful to kill one so young. 

"This is no place for children," he said sternly. Then he dropped to the floor and strode from the room. The door fell to the ground with a thud as his Shardblade sliced through the hinges, and he was soon enveloped in the night.

@kenod

Quote

Alderbon's going to come to the duel, so if you want to skip right to it that works for me.

 

[kenod]

12 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

King Alderbon watched with a raised eyebrow as the man started a fight with minimal provocation. He had also claimed a title; interesting. Perhaps it was worth going to the duel just to gain more information on this man. 

"You are second to no man!" Ranted his spren in his head. "His ignorance must be punished!" 

Peace, Alderbon responded, still staring at the door. The city will learn of me soon enough. 

He glanced back at the insolent girl, and his fingers twitched on the hilt of his Blade. He stopped himself; it is not lawful to kill one so young. 

"This is no place for children," he said sternly. Then he dropped to the floor and strode from the room. The door fell to the ground with a thud as his Shardblade sliced through the hinges, and he was soon enveloped in the night.

@kenod

 

Aylitha simply stared at the man's back as he left the tavern. "Did he just call me a kid?" she muttered, sounding angry, and small tentacles started lashing out from her hands. Nearly she walked out of the tavern to follow him, teaching him about how to address his elders.
Oh, shut it... Karin sleepily replied. If you don't want to be seen as a kid then stop dressing like you're an escapee from wonderland, or a Japanese girl band. Just let it go, and let me go back to sleep. Goodbye... she said as she dozed off, her presence fading away. Aylitha sighed and walked out of the tavern as well, jumping over the busted door.

***

In the back of the tavern Nimari stood up as well, walking to the door. She though about the king-figure, smiling. Finally a Radiant who understood how the world worked! At least, that was how it seemed right now. According to what they had been talking about they were supposed to be going to some kind of duel. Quietly she giggled. It would be interesting to find this king, see what he was like. And if he wasn't strong enough, or not who she expected him to be... Well, one of the quickest ways to become a ruler is to kill the old one.

[Rushu42]

27 minutes ago, kenod said:

Aylitha simply stared at the man's back as he left the tavern. "Did he just call me a kid?" she muttered, sounding angry, and small tentacles started lashing out from her hands. Nearly she walked out of the tavern to follow him, teaching him about how to address his elders.
Oh, shut it... Karin sleepily replied. If you don't want to be seen as a kid then stop dressing like you're an escapee from wonderland, or a Japanese girl band. Just let it go, and let me go back to sleep. Goodbye... she said as she dozed off, her presence fading away. Aylitha sighed and walked out of the tavern as well, jumping over the busted door.

***

In the back of the tavern Nimari stood up as well, walking to the door. She though about the king-figure, smiling. Finally a Radiant who understood how the world worked! At least, that was how it seemed right now. According to what they had been talking about they were supposed to be going to some kind of duel. Quietly she giggled. It would be interesting to find this king, see what he was like. And if he wasn't strong enough, or not who she expected him to be... Well, one of the quickest ways to become a ruler is to kill the old one.

Alderbon, who had stepped into a side alley, glanced back as he saw a few figures emerge from the tavern. He watched with narrowed eyes for a moment, then slipped deep into the shadow of a building. Before hiding himself, he drove his Shardblade into the ground, leaving it as a huge, silvery marker for any who sought him. And, from concealment, he watched.

[kenod]

18 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

Alderbon, who had stepped into a side alley, glanced back as he saw a few figures emerge from the tavern. He watched with narrowed eyes for a moment, then slipped deep into the shadow of a building. Before hiding himself, he drove his Shardblade into the ground, leaving it as a huge, silvery marker for any who sought him. And, from concealment, he watched.

Quote

Neither of the two are going to stop by. Aylitha is deliberately going in a different direction, while Nimari is going straight to the dueling area to watch.

 

[Rushu42]

2 hours ago, kenod said:

Neither of the two are going to stop by. Aylitha is deliberately going in a different direction, while Nimari is going straight to the dueling area to watch.

Spoiler

Oh, I misunderstood. The duel isn't until the next morning, though - we were going to do a timeskip.

After a moment of watching the figures disperse, Alderbon dismissed his Blade and strode away.

Edited January 11, 2020 by Rushu42
I accidentally used a spoiler instead of a quote, but mobile won't let me change it.

[kenod]

2 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

  Hide contents

Oh, I misunderstood. The duel isn't until the next morning, though - we were going to do a timeskip.

After a moment of watching the figures disperse, Alderbon dismissed his Blade and strode away.

Quote

No problem, I'll just show up after the duel is finished.

 

[Rushu42]

The sun had barely leaked its rays over the horizon when Alderbon slammed to the ground in the middle of the Plaza. He still wore the dramatic cloak from the night before, and his angular crown was fitted around his forehead. Stormlight trailed slowly from his eyes as he examined the scene, noting spots of rough terrain and points of exit. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his Blade. As the light began to warm the rooftops of the sleeping settlement, he let a thin smile twist the corner of his mouth. They would know of the Law soon enough.

Quote

Whenever you're ready.

@Elend Venture

Edited January 12, 2020 by Rushu42

[I think I am here.]

On 09/01/2020 at 10:50 PM, Sorana said:

“And then there are those risks, that you can't really grasp at the beginning. Situations that draw you to them, that call to you until you take a risk that has the potential to destroy you completely."

I can relate to his words. They parallel my situation, following a man to his home for no reason other than curiosity, and maybe he refers to his point of view as well, risking allowing me in his home. But the reference to potential to destroy him completely intrigues me. If he refers to his current situation, what would destroy him? I guess it has something to do with what he wants to show me.

“I find there’s always something to learn in those types of situations,” I say, and not for the first time I observe his precise movements. His coat is slightly open, unveiling a slightly more causal side. My coat’s been left with my hat, and it’s left me with a standard black shirt. Black is good. I have a handful of old bloodstains on the shirt I’m wearing, but people can hardly tell unless they’re looking for them. That’s my favourite thing about black.

“And yes, but while you may need some factors under control, as you say, why even attempt a ‘step in the right direction’ at all if the current system works perfect?” My cigar’s almost finished and I breathe out in satisfaction at the quality of it. “Hypothetically, of course. I mean, the current system is the one that we live in, and it works just fine. Too much change, either way, and...”

I tilt my head one way and then the other as I tap my cigar against my ashtray. “Upsetting the balance becomes easy.”

[+Sorana]

His cigar is nearly finished and you can feel anticipation rise in your chest when he taps it against his ashtray. He will we done soon, and then you will stand up and lead him downstairs. You lift a hand and flick a sign to Taron and he disappears to prepare everything for the two of you.

"Perfection is just an illusion of the mind." You reply and take another sip of your water. "There is always room for improvement. To claim something is perfect, is just a cheap excuse to stop trying."

Leaning back again, your glass still in your hand you continue. "Change is a part of our world, as central as air, or investiture. To try to stop the change is to try to stop the breathing of our world. Same as nature never stops evolving, constantly improves itself, we have to accept that everything is nothing more than a step towards a slightly different situation."

You spread your arms a little in a deliberate gesture, ensuring that your only half filled glass of water doesn't spill over. "But I agree. Upsetting the balance is easy and a risk on its own."

[I think I am here.]

20 hours ago, Sorana said:

You spread your arms a little in a deliberate gesture, ensuring that your only half filled glass of water doesn't spill over. "But I agree. Upsetting the balance is easy and a risk on its own."

As my cigar reaches its end I tilt my head back, breathe out a column of smoke and watch it rise into the air, ever shifting in its form until it disperses into the air and I’m left with the stub of my cigar. I feel as I did when I entered the room, not a hint of intoxication, but the usual motions of smoking remind me of when I was addicted to this stuff. Now, it seems I’m just addicted to the concept, the aesthetic, maybe, of a hard-boiled detective smoking a Churchill. Like the rest of me, it’s an aspect that never changes.

The words on perfection make sense, even if I don’t like the sound of change being inevitable. Will my home alley change, too? Will it one day be any different from how it’s always been, with it’s streetlights and late-night jazz clubs, with its thick midnight fog of criminal life rolling over police stations and courthouses alike? The thought it could be anything different irks me.

I place my cigar stub down in the ashtray, and as I wait for it to extinguish I note Raphael’s deliberate gestures and movements. Does he believe even his delicate gestures and perfectly practised poses need improvement? Does he believe he will never achieve true perfection in his neatness and cleanliness? It must seem like torture.

“If perfection is an illusion, then, why would anyone try?” I ask. “Why even play the game if you’ll never reach perfection?”

[+Sorana]

1 hour ago, Ookla the Maybe-Existent said:

“If perfection is an illusion, then, why would anyone try?” I ask. “Why even play the game if you’ll never reach perfection?”

You watch as the stub of his cigar extinguishes, wait until the last bit of smoke is dispersed in the air and drink more water before you finally reply.

"Because the illusion of perfection is a powerful one." You reply calmly. "We all strive to perfection in one way or the other. If you try to solve a case and discover the truth admist a web of lies, if you experiment to gain knowledge," you make another pause, while you try to come up with words that suit yourself, "or if you never stop working on yourself." They fit, in a way that is surprisingly close and nearly frightening accurate. He doesn't understand, he can't understand, not yet at least.

"Actually," you go on, "I think that having nowhere to go, knowing that you reached what you wanted to seems bleak and empty. If you stop having goals because you believe you reached perfection, what will you do with the rest of your time? With the rest of you life?"

Standing up you straighten your suit coat, but leave it open. You say nothing, instead only make a deliberate inviting gesture towards the door, leaving the decision to come along to Sloane.