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(no subject)
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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, SATURNSCHILD. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 001.00.653.90 *** SATURNSCHILD has joined 001.00.653.90 <saturnschild> Hello. <saturnschild> I'm listening. | ||||
no subject
[He leans forward. If he had eyes right now, they'd be bright and focused, a wild animal keen on its prey. As it stands, Javert might be able to make out the empty eye sockets behind his helm. Dark. Endless. ]
What else would you like to know?
no subject
What else, about a man who professes to murder for the sake of a God, for order? There is very little that I cannot gather through other means.
[From observation, for instance. From listening to what he says and how he acts around others. He strokes his whiskers as a thought occurs to him. His lips droop in a lopsided frown.]
No, you have not come simply for idle chatter. You say you are a priest. Are you in the business of conversions, roping in more sheep for your flock?
no subject
[It's a firm answer, but not a 'no.' He recognizes something in Javert, something that he shares as well: a compulsive need for order. That need pushed him directly into the Fog God's arms, and he expects this man will follow suit.
Eventually.]
You intrigue me, and so I wish to know more about you. It's as simple as that.
[He pulls back, finally, straightening his back.]
Tell me the story about the over-generous citizen, Monsieur. You promised.
no subject
[Javert is silent while his face attempts to figure where on earth to settle. His thin lips twist up, down, then settle into a stubborn thin line. Blank, bland, unreadable.
If Aunamee is expecting a lengthy story, he may be disappointed. Javert keeps it short and blunt, which doubtless leaves him open to plenty of probing questions.]
He spared my life. When he had plenty to gain with my death and everything to lose in allowing me to walk. At no benefit to himself.
no subject
[His tone is nonchalant. Unremarkable. For Aunamee, deserving death is a simple, objective fact, like having brown hair. ]
no subject
[Two impassive monsters discussing death as casually as if they were chatting about how water is wet. He smiles, a dry, dull thing.]
My execution was a natural consequence. Violent insurgents are not in the habit of letting their captured police-spies stroll back home.
no subject
[It's twisted, but it makes sense to him. Aunamee's mind is ruled by rigid rituals, the compulsive desire to fix mistakes and balance the unbalanced. ]
That's why you threw yourself into the river.
CW: Suicide references from here on out
Javert's face is dispassionate, indeterminate.]
That was part of it. Not the whole of it.
no subject
What was the rest of it?
no subject
The world does not work the way he understood it to. And when Javert was shown his mistaken understanding, he could not bear the weight of it on his conscience.
The corner of his mouth makes a slow creep down into the crags of his face.]
That story was not part of our bargain, monsieur.
no subject
[There's a smile in his words, but only because he's using it to swallow his disappointment.
It's all right. He doesn't need to learn everything all at once, does he? There's something to be said for leaving a little mystery.]
Are we finished with our business? I must admit, it's been a pleasure seeing you again. You wear your vampirism well.
Gonna wrap here, narrowing down my threads <3 Can't wait for more!
[He polishes off his blood coffee and begins to gather his things.]
We are finished. More stories are best left for another bargain. Don't let me keep you, certainly there are poachers with eyes on this café. À bientôt, my good man.
[Try not to let the 'network trolls' chafe your arse so much, Aunamee. It really shows your worst side, and Javert is always watching and assessing.]