[it's late, when she's awake. the now entrenched habit of not sleeping on those days when a trial concluded. she's used to dealing with exhaustion, so the sleep loss doesn't bother her - but she's trying to keep her mind occupied. away from the serious expression on his face when he'd asked after the letters, away from the events that took place in general. by tuesday, she'll have this compartmentalized and she'll be herself again.
but the List had gone up in flame, and-
tearing herself from the thought, her eyes see a familiar figure.]
Mr. Arumat.
[he, she knew, had been among those who took this rather hard, if his reaction at the execution was anything to go by.]
{ Death himself doesn't have need for sleep, or rather... so he would claim. It would be one of the reasons why he'd insist on staying awake through maybe even a few full days if he thought it necessary (or just staying up late in general.) This time, he doesn't even entertain the thought of going to bed early. It's also why he's out and about, realizing on top of it all the curse was seeming to come to fruition.
He almost doesn't hear Grell address him, and despite the shit he's gone through, it was taxing. Arumat doesn't deal with betrayal well, arguably even worse than most.
Arumat at least stops walking, if only so he could turn to face her. }
...
{ No, he's not alright. He's a terrible liar, but saying he was or will be still convinced everyone else. But Arumat's always preferred to be straightforward, and there have been enough lies this night. In addition, doesn't have the energy to say 'yes', and there's an almost alien-seeming, yet unidentifiable emotion in his eyes as he observes her.
He's not one to deliberate, yet here he is doing precisely that. }
It may seem foolish and can even be considered exactly that. Yet, answering in the affirmative would even be more so.
[her expression is unreadable, despite the polite, slight smile of courtesy on it. more as though she's looking through him, some screen of maintaining proper reactions down and the truth of how much this trial took to properly react to hinted at. whether that's physical or emotional exhaustion, she won't say.]
How long has it been since you properly sparred with someone? And before you can ask why I inquire, I know that look on someone, when sometimes the only method that might assist is something a sight more physical than calm words and a night's sleep. You need it, I could do with it - how does it sound?
{ He pauses at her answer, taking in her own general demeanor and expression as he does so. Although he cannot fathom how she feels exactly about this whole trial, there is one conclusion he does reach about their meeting: it's probable they need to let off steam. }
The last time I properly sparred with someone was a few weeks ago.
{ He recalls the match he had with Frankenstein a bit fondly... and her words do resonate with him. }
... It has still been too long since I have met someone else worth the challenge. I accept your invitation, Grell Sutcliffe.
[at that, her smile's less there because it has to be, and more an honest excitement for the challenge. they both know the way to the gym, no one needs help there, and she can ask a few questions while they walk.]
Whether to alleviate tension or simply to stay sharp, it's never proven itself to be a bad idea. Maybe if we look around, next time we could find something to act as replacements.
[maybe one of those really durable pool skimmers.]
But it's been too long since I got to brush up on my hand to hand...
{ Arumat heads to the chapel, almost immediately. Maybe it's because it was one of the few places he had frequented earlier on and it was to get away with what was happening. None of what occurred would bring Frankenstein back. In fact, perhaps he could be called selfish for it, but he was bitter that Elizabeth turned out just fine.
...
He was...very, very bitter to say the least.
Frankenstein wasn't supposed to die, and yet here they were.
He wanted to desperately hit something and destroy it without a single care. Something cold in his heart settled in regards to that, if anything because the trial's events and conclusion were tearing him apart.
As he walked into the chapel, he couldn't have been prepared for what was in. Probably. }
[he's not alone, at least. there's a person there who's been there before him, who's dropped to her knees near the front. what Arumat will have missed was the tears she had shed in privacy, the way she'd slammed her hands into the wall and floor like a child might have in sheer rage and stress. the presence of the aliens...that was one thing. that was concerning, but that wouldn't have inspired her to cry.
no, the reason she cried was simpler - Frankenstein is gone, and this game continues. his death had been so unnecessary, she thinks. it's so damnably human of her to feel like this, but...that last conversation of theirs was about humanity. he was the only person, she thought, who could have understood the sense that comes from so many years on the soul.
at least he died by his own method, and not an execution. now...
now she hears something from behind her, and in less than half a second she's on her feet, whipping around to see -]
{ Crying had been something he'd forgotten to do long ago -- he's always lost comrades, those close to him even now. Maybe he should've expected it... that things would have turned out this way and yet it doesn't make it any easier.
He watches her whip around to face him and for a moment he'll shake his head. }
If they even bothered to make an attempt they'd have been dead in seconds. Creatures like that are no match for Death Himself. It's only unfortunate one of them made an escape in the first place -- yet, it's inevitable. Hostiles like them will be taken care of.
{ His voice is veiled with anger, promising death to those creatures. It's their fault they're here, why so many are dead -- why Frankenstein's dead. }
...
I cannot promise you I'd be adequate enough company. But, if you don't mind, I would like to join you. It's...difficult to deal with his absence.
{ On his own, as loathe as he'll admit. He'll move to sit down as well, not feeling too good after all of that. }
[the mention of Death Himself is tucked away for later consideration - how to say something without revealing her hand, she doesn't know, but it's still almost amusing. maybe when she's in the mood to be amused.]
[and she pushes a lock of hair that's fallen behind her ear, and fixes him with an expression that is half curious, half suddenly seeming like there's something behind her eyes. something that was looking through him instead of at him.]
Because there's something odd I note when you say that.
[and if he doesn't stop her, she's going to reach out and touch a single finger to the center of his chest.]
{ Today's a strange night for things, but the meaning doesn't escape him... he remembers his few talks with Frankenstein and he's suspected not everyone here was. Well. Human. Besides the stupid creature thing, but everyone had been theorizing on that for weeks, right? }
...
And you're implying you're not, aren't you?
{ He'll lightly push away that finger if she only decide to let it linger there. }
[it won't linger. it's only there to make a point, and it goes once that's made.]
Death leaves a distinct signature in the soul. A certain sense of things that were and are not. Something that might coexist with life, and yet is forever entwined with it. This I know as a truth. And your soul, Arumat, is free from that...distortion. You still have the vibrancy of life.
{ So she can see into his soul. But he seems to believe with all of his heart that is ... what he is. }
Yet, I bring death to those who bother to come near. Nothing I do can prevent it from happening.
{ He understands that comrades perish -- but he's watched it happen over and over again. He's always the last one left standing.
His comrades, his people -- something like 'people die everyday' unfortunately wouldn't cut it. Not when its always happened and before he even was forced here, the one person who he thought could evade death died... and then the next person he thought could've evaded death died. }
...
It seems a little ironic, if I am meeting with an individual associated with Death.
[she assumes he can tell why she's content to keep this quiet, to play human in the face of them all. say you were linked to death, and it raises suspicion. attached to someone who's already proven herself to be cold when needed, not entirely stable - at least, with the display Machias and him had seen - and with a morbid streak, more suspicion was the last thing she needed. not when she had her own reasons to want to survive.]
That same fate that means that death has followed you like a shadow does. Do you believe you are at fault for such a thing?
He's tired of losing his companions, tired of this entire situation where there are still no answers and it seems like he'll never figure out anything of importance. Why bother anymore? He doesn't understand it himself-- he hasn't long to live and even as he speaks to Grell he feels intense pain slowly begin to grip him in his chest.
But he's always been able to ignore it, pretend to be strong for the sake of others. Yet, here he is, sitting here, with his scythe nearby him, feeling hope slip away.
They're both certainly desolate, aren't they? }
What, so everything will always be predetermined? The same inevitable occurrences to happen with no true escape from fate's clutches?
Perhaps fate was the wrong word. Most things in life are uncertain - like our days here, nothing is certain until the end is upon us. But some things....some things, perhaps, are meant. Like the meeting of those changed by death. If not me, it would have been someone else. Some things are too aligned to be pure coincidence and dependent on luck.
[ah, she's going about this wrong, she knows...she'll blame the sorrow and sleep deprivation.]
...Death strikes without reason, without fairness, without mercy. Not even I can understand why some things occur, because sometimes there is no true answer.
[why those around him would die, she can't give him a solution for. death was both mercy and cruelty both, and all she does is follow what it tells her to render events certain. and the world keeps turning.]
{ Maybe she's right. He doesn't know, but Arumat can't think straight -- yet it sounded satisfactory enough to him.
It wasn't just the reminder of Frankenstein's death, but other circumstances surrounding that trial that torn him apart, leaving him feel as hopeless as he did when he had been standing on the wreckage of-- yes... that ship. Someone had reached out to him, and somehow he had found it within himself to move on.
But now? Arumat was sure he was hardly qualified to perform his duty (what duty, he relinquished his position not too long ago)-- }
... Did you predict he would have been judged by a grand myriad of people, Grell Sutcliffe?
Only as much as I can predict any of us will be judged by them one day, myself included.
[she can't see the future. if Frankenstein was of her world, he was someone who was far beyond her reach, not one of hers to judge. and will she ever pass judgement again, when her List was up in flames, and she was so far from anything at all?
(they would reprimand her, she knows, for shedding tears over a human. for shedding tears in general.)
the screaming from the dark spirit still echoes in her head, if she is quiet enough to listen.]
I could imagine either of us judged; myself being killed as well.
{ He had his suspicions, but they had been baseless -- that another third party had been involved. But, well... what's done is done and those don't matter now.
Arumat's too tired of this-- even he has a limited threshold to how much he can take. That execution changed him, and not in a way he would ever find himself saying aloud. }
I would have said anyone targeting you in a murder attempt seems laughable, but after Elizabeth's "deception" ... hmph.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 5 - sunday.
but the List had gone up in flame, and-
tearing herself from the thought, her eyes see a familiar figure.]
Mr. Arumat.
[he, she knew, had been among those who took this rather hard, if his reaction at the execution was anything to go by.]
...This may be foolish, but are you alright?
no subject
He almost doesn't hear Grell address him, and despite the shit he's gone through, it was taxing. Arumat doesn't deal with betrayal well, arguably even worse than most.
Arumat at least stops walking, if only so he could turn to face her. }
...
{ No, he's not alright. He's a terrible liar, but saying he was or will be still convinced everyone else. But Arumat's always preferred to be straightforward, and there have been enough lies this night. In addition, doesn't have the energy to say 'yes', and there's an almost alien-seeming, yet unidentifiable emotion in his eyes as he observes her.
He's not one to deliberate, yet here he is doing precisely that. }
It may seem foolish and can even be considered exactly that. Yet, answering in the affirmative would even be more so.
What do you hope to gain by your inquiry?
no subject
[her expression is unreadable, despite the polite, slight smile of courtesy on it. more as though she's looking through him, some screen of maintaining proper reactions down and the truth of how much this trial took to properly react to hinted at. whether that's physical or emotional exhaustion, she won't say.]
How long has it been since you properly sparred with someone? And before you can ask why I inquire, I know that look on someone, when sometimes the only method that might assist is something a sight more physical than calm words and a night's sleep. You need it, I could do with it - how does it sound?
no subject
The last time I properly sparred with someone was a few weeks ago.
{ He recalls the match he had with Frankenstein a bit fondly... and her words do resonate with him. }
... It has still been too long since I have met someone else worth the challenge. I accept your invitation, Grell Sutcliffe.
no subject
[at that, her smile's less there because it has to be, and more an honest excitement for the challenge. they both know the way to the gym, no one needs help there, and she can ask a few questions while they walk.]
Do you prefer with weaponry, or without?
[his card had mentioned his scythe, after all.]
no subject
{ Granted his scythe can't cut through everything like a certain someone. But. Lasers and metal walls still don't mix... plus that damn range on it. }
...
It's good you suggested the idea of a challenge in the first place.
no subject
[maybe one of those really durable pool skimmers.]
But it's been too long since I got to brush up on my hand to hand...
[too long to her is like. a week.]
no subject
[ That sounds about right. }
Hmph. I can say the same.
{ Yeah a week's too long for him as well-- especially ever the reminder as they walk into the gym. }
A week of inaction is the same as a month or year of it.
WEEK 6 - SUNDAY, POST TRIAL
...
He was...very, very bitter to say the least.
Frankenstein wasn't supposed to die, and yet here they were.
He wanted to desperately hit something and destroy it without a single care. Something cold in his heart settled in regards to that, if anything because the trial's events and conclusion were tearing him apart.
As he walked into the chapel, he couldn't have been prepared for what was in. Probably. }
no subject
no, the reason she cried was simpler - Frankenstein is gone, and this game continues. his death had been so unnecessary, she thinks. it's so damnably human of her to feel like this, but...that last conversation of theirs was about humanity. he was the only person, she thought, who could have understood the sense that comes from so many years on the soul.
at least he died by his own method, and not an execution. now...
now she hears something from behind her, and in less than half a second she's on her feet, whipping around to see -]
Arumat.
[not one of the creatures.]
They didn't hurt you, did they?
no subject
He watches her whip around to face him and for a moment he'll shake his head. }
If they even bothered to make an attempt they'd have been dead in seconds. Creatures like that are no match for Death Himself. It's only unfortunate one of them made an escape in the first place -- yet, it's inevitable. Hostiles like them will be taken care of.
{ His voice is veiled with anger, promising death to those creatures. It's their fault they're here, why so many are dead -- why Frankenstein's dead. }
...
I cannot promise you I'd be adequate enough company. But, if you don't mind, I would like to join you. It's...difficult to deal with his absence.
{ On his own, as loathe as he'll admit. He'll move to sit down as well, not feeling too good after all of that. }
no subject
[the mention of Death Himself is tucked away for later consideration - how to say something without revealing her hand, she doesn't know, but it's still almost amusing. maybe when she's in the mood to be amused.]
He...how well did you know him?
no subject
Well enough.
{ He'll take a pause. }
I am Death Incarnate. What made you decide to give your inquiry?
no subject
[and she pushes a lock of hair that's fallen behind her ear, and fixes him with an expression that is half curious, half suddenly seeming like there's something behind her eyes. something that was looking through him instead of at him.]
Because there's something odd I note when you say that.
[and if he doesn't stop her, she's going to reach out and touch a single finger to the center of his chest.]
You're mortal.
no subject
...
And you're implying you're not, aren't you?
{ He'll lightly push away that finger if she only decide to let it linger there. }
no subject
[it won't linger. it's only there to make a point, and it goes once that's made.]
Death leaves a distinct signature in the soul. A certain sense of things that were and are not. Something that might coexist with life, and yet is forever entwined with it. This I know as a truth. And your soul, Arumat, is free from that...distortion. You still have the vibrancy of life.
[close to death is not death.]
Unless there is something I am blind to.
no subject
Yet, I bring death to those who bother to come near. Nothing I do can prevent it from happening.
{ He understands that comrades perish -- but he's watched it happen over and over again. He's always the last one left standing.
His comrades, his people -- something like 'people die everyday' unfortunately wouldn't cut it. Not when its always happened and before he even was forced here, the one person who he thought could evade death died... and then the next person he thought could've evaded death died. }
...
It seems a little ironic, if I am meeting with an individual associated with Death.
no subject
[she assumes he can tell why she's content to keep this quiet, to play human in the face of them all. say you were linked to death, and it raises suspicion. attached to someone who's already proven herself to be cold when needed, not entirely stable - at least, with the display Machias and him had seen - and with a morbid streak, more suspicion was the last thing she needed. not when she had her own reasons to want to survive.]
That same fate that means that death has followed you like a shadow does. Do you believe you are at fault for such a thing?
no subject
He's tired of losing his companions, tired of this entire situation where there are still no answers and it seems like he'll never figure out anything of importance. Why bother anymore? He doesn't understand it himself-- he hasn't long to live and even as he speaks to Grell he feels intense pain slowly begin to grip him in his chest.
But he's always been able to ignore it, pretend to be strong for the sake of others. Yet, here he is, sitting here, with his scythe nearby him, feeling hope slip away.
They're both certainly desolate, aren't they? }
What, so everything will always be predetermined? The same inevitable occurrences to happen with no true escape from fate's clutches?
no subject
[ah, she's going about this wrong, she knows...she'll blame the sorrow and sleep deprivation.]
...Death strikes without reason, without fairness, without mercy. Not even I can understand why some things occur, because sometimes there is no true answer.
[why those around him would die, she can't give him a solution for. death was both mercy and cruelty both, and all she does is follow what it tells her to render events certain. and the world keeps turning.]
no subject
{ Maybe she's right. He doesn't know, but Arumat can't think straight -- yet it sounded satisfactory enough to him.
It wasn't just the reminder of Frankenstein's death, but other circumstances surrounding that trial that torn him apart, leaving him feel as hopeless as he did when he had been standing on the wreckage of-- yes... that ship. Someone had reached out to him, and somehow he had found it within himself to move on.
But now? Arumat was sure he was hardly qualified to perform his duty (what duty, he relinquished his position not too long ago)-- }
... Did you predict he would have been judged by a grand myriad of people, Grell Sutcliffe?
no subject
[she can't see the future. if Frankenstein was of her world, he was someone who was far beyond her reach, not one of hers to judge. and will she ever pass judgement again, when her List was up in flames, and she was so far from anything at all?
(they would reprimand her, she knows, for shedding tears over a human. for shedding tears in general.)
the screaming from the dark spirit still echoes in her head, if she is quiet enough to listen.]
That is, if we aren't killed first.
no subject
{ He had his suspicions, but they had been baseless -- that another third party had been involved. But, well... what's done is done and those don't matter now.
Arumat's too tired of this-- even he has a limited threshold to how much he can take. That execution changed him, and not in a way he would ever find himself saying aloud. }
I would have said anyone targeting you in a murder attempt seems laughable, but after Elizabeth's "deception" ... hmph.