[Liem would not describe himself as especially enthralled by liquor. Perhaps slightly more so by shopping, but—as mentioned—he is currently a little strapped for funds. And that brings him full circle back to getting to know the neighbours. Well… there are worse problems to have, he supposes.
He pauses for a brief moment, blinking, when Constantin darts ahead and gestures grandly at the surroundings. What an odd, excitable man. Hopefully he doesn’t bump into any oncoming pedestrians or mailboxes or the like, turning around like that mid-stride.]
Ah, well the availability of luxury goods does seem quite widespread. I suppose I am interested to know how a city this large is maintained.
[Particularly located in the middle of a desert as this city is, and floating half a mile above the surface of the planet, no less. Even with a robust trade economy, he’d expect a certain level of domestic production would be necessary for goods that are less convenient to transport. Liem, please don’t keep talking about this stuff oh no here he goes.]
Just the waste management aspect alone is miles ahead of any city I’ve yet been in. You’ve noticed how pristine this place is, aside from the damage? And yet there must be hundreds of thousands of people living here, if not more.
[He's spunky, thank you. If he weren't skinny he could try boisterous, but alas. He is at least practiced at doing this backwards wandering thing, mostly because kind souls keep an extra eye out behind him just in case a collision is imminent. Ahem.
So, until then.]
Marvel upon marvel, [he... agrees? About... waste management?] I do believe the mechanisms are all underground! As it were.
[Underground in the sky. Anyway, plumbing, huh! And trash disposal, wow! This, too, is a novelty, genuinely— but the fact that Liem is more interested in waste management than luxury goods is so ridiculous; sir, that's nerdy.]
You aren't only interested in waste management, are you? I could walk you back to the endless mountains of garbage instead of to the nearest café, if you like.
[Constantin should definitely add cheeky to that list of descriptors. Liem rolls his eyes a little, making a face that says “You’re being ridiculous,” as though Constantin’s sass isn’t 100% justified.]
I will respectfully decline.
[Excuse you, sir—waste management is an extremely important aspect of any city and a completely normal thing to be interested in. That does not mean he enjoys pawing around in the garbage.]
I happen to have many other interests that don’t involve garbage in the slightest, and at the moment I would say finding somewhere quiet to get a drink is chief among them.
[Constantin shrugs, but even the eye rolling can't temper his pleased little grin; this counts as a victory for cheekiness, he thinks, so obviously he's well within his rights to be openly amused. Besides, when one finds a man hauling trash, and then he starts talking about waste management...]
What is it they say about ducks?
[Anyway, never mind!! To emphasize how much they are never minding his sass, he pivots back around to face forward, standing up on his toes briefly to squint further down the street. He knows where the nearest cafe is, so it only makes sense to know 100 yards away if there is a considerable line.
In the meantime,] Our quiet drink is just ahead. So— tell me about your many other interests.
[Liem is beginning to suspect that their drink will not, in fact, be especially quiet, given this man’s rather animated and loquacious manner. Perhaps he will become slightly more reserved once they are indoors? But no matter—at least the man isn’t made of rocks and inclined to fawn over him as though he were a visiting dignitary. Any port in a storm, as they say.]
Well, I’ve something of an interest in history. There are also a number of theatres and opera houses in my home city, which I have visited a few times.
[He’s trying his best to name things that aren’t directly related to his job, which seems like it would be going against the spirit of the inquiry. Make no mistake, though—he is interested in his work. He’d have to be, to still be doing the same thing after decades of service.]
I suppose now would be a good time for me to properly introduce myself, as well. I’m Liem Talbott.
[Obviously, the "quiet" part of the experience doesn't include Constantin himself; he's outside that calculation. He can, however, behave indoors, so that's going to have to do. And it's true: he was definitely going to bring back the sass if he heard work stuff again, so good call.]
A patron of the arts! [who mucks around in the trash] You know, I've no idea if there exists an opera house in this city, but surely...
[A gesture around, like, surely? The city is, indeed, so huge? But besides the occasional street performers, he hasn't sought out any of the fancier forms of entertainment. Sitting still through an entire opera is not really his thing.]
Well, that aside— my name is Constantin. If I hear about any theatres, I shall send you the address.
[On the phone. Liem, please know how to use a phone. He can't teach this.]
[Receiving a text-based message seems like a level of functionality Liem should be able to get out of his phone. The gems made it fairly clear that his money wouldn’t be good here, and that he would need to use his phone to access their “banking application.” Such a strange, newfangled innovation… this world is truly full of marvels. But yes, he’s ready to tackle digital technology. Just wait until he discovers spreadsheet applications.]
Much obliged, good sir. [What would gem theatre be like? He supposes it would be an interesting window into their culture, should a theatre or opera house turn out to actually exist in this city.] Are you fond of the arts, at all?
[This topic is a much more comfortable one than the issue of their predicament stranded on a strange world. Liem actually seems, if anything, slightly hopeful that the answer will be “yes.” Practically everyone from his country cares about the arts to at least some degree, so the topic is a familiar one to him. Please let him have this one thing.]
Well— my city is sorely derived of a theatre, actually... I've been unable to patronize any performances for a while now.
[Which is a roundabout way of getting around saying "ehhhh," he figures. How could he shoot that one small hope down out of the sky so ruthlessly? No, that would be too cruel.
And it's true, at least, that New Serene is fairly devoid of entertainment beyond what's in the tavern and its disreputable cellar. Theatres, in such a small, fledgling city? Not yet!]
Perhaps one day we'll have a proper district of the arts! But until then...
[There are no theatres at all where he comes from? That’s so tragic. He didn’t take Constantin for someone who had come from some uncultured little backwater town… No, that is too harsh. Not every city can be a bustling centre for the arts. But still, very sad for him.]
Ah… Then I will be sure to keep a sharp eye out for one as well, so that you may end your theatre drought.
[Did he actually mistake something Constantin said for genuine enthusiasm for such an outing? No. At this point, however, it’s more for his own good than anything else. Life cannot be entirely drinking and schmoozing in a floating paradise city. It is the least he can do as a good samaritan to at least point this man in the right direction, if he can.]
What are your interests, then? When you are not helpfully assisting strangers in need.
[Oh, has he committed to going to the alien theatre... That's alright, he supposes; it's not going to yet another bar, so it will have to do. Maybe a world where magic is this common will have appropriately magical theatre performances? One can only hope.
That said: what's a hobby! He has been unfettered by his real job for mere weeks. It's drinking in neon bars, isn't it. Horrible.]
I... have a tragically unrealized passion for exploration, I suppose. This place is quite the pinnacle of adventuring abroad.
[Except they aren't really welcome to do things besides shop and touch hands, huh! The mountain adventure was fun, at least.]
[Constantin, sir… that is not a real hobby. Especially if it’s “unrealized.” Please find something to do that isn’t touring this city’s many tacky bars.]
Is that so? Well, I suppose this circumstance makes for an ideal opportunity to explore new areas of interest.
[That is to say: perhaps while you are exploring the city, you will find a hobby as well. Now that they all have so much free time, he could take up… sports? Or poetry. Or, um… whittling! Liem is just concerned about the results of a lifestyle spent entirely roaming the city in search of novel things to do. That much freedom cannot possibly be good for one’s well being. ]
[And unsolicited, at that! But it's fine; he appreciates a little helpful nudge every now and then, if it comes from a place of at least a little genuine concern. Is he guessing? Sure, a bit, but Liem seems like an upright gentleman who wouldn't just roast a near stranger on the street.
Like, who would do that? Just sass strangers? Unthinkable. Anyway.]
At home, I am a governor! I suppose most of what I do is paperwork and talking to diplomats. It has its moments.
[Liem’s answer to Constantin’s observation is simply a mild look. It might be advice and sass. It can be both things. Giving advice is a non-trivial part of his job, usually. The sass… less so. That’s more like the tax that comes attached for making use of his services outside of work hours.]
That’s a lofty position. I can’t imagine many people have asked your assistance with something as trivial as hauling things into the garbage.
[So… oops? Sorry for probably being the first. He coughs gently, suddenly regretting his own audacity. If Liem had known, he probably would have just let the garbage can fall on him instead.]
[Sassing him and then being awkward about the trash thing is going to send mixed messages, sir! Constantin laughs, giving him a hardy pat on the shoulder, except not really all that hardy because his ill-timed superstrength has already left him, again. One day he'll figure it out.
Anyway: bud, please.]
And? I am only the governor in my own home! What do you do? Surely not a trash collector in your own world?
[Considering he lost the battle against one can...]
[Well now he’s embarrassed and confused. Liem has never encountered a governor who wasn’t obsessed with their own status. In fact, he could probably say the same for any member of Taldor’s nobility—perhaps with the sole exception of its princess. But then, it has already been established that the city Constantin hails from is not very much like Liem’s home at all.]
No.
[Of course he’s not a trash collector. Is this how garbage men dress where Constantin comes from? This one day of community service has netted him more sass than it has peace of mind.]
I’m a priest.
[He’s a priest in a city where he’s free to explore anywhere but the local temples. Somewhere, the gods of this world are having a good chuckle at his expense.]
[That's how he keeps 'em guessing, Liem. It makes perfect sense to Constantin; why, actually, should he toss around his myriad titles in a place where they mean nothing at all? It isn't as if they've done much for him before.
Anyway, maybe garbage men are fussy little guys in some places... it could happen.]
Oh! Really! I don't meet many proper men of faith doing my paperwork, [and also because his country straddles the line between abiding by the local faith and not, for Neutrality Reasons, but still,] so you must tell me all about it.
[Maybe not all. Maybe just some. But do it over a semi-quiet drink in this cafe that they've finally reached, while Constantin asks very many polite questions...]
[Argh, not Diggers touching the stains… What a steep price to pay for just being able to see more than eight inches from his nose.
Liem does not consider a bit of pessimism unreasonable in this circumstance. From his point of view, he’s just been scooped up from his rightful plane of existence for the third time, to be plopped once more into a place he’s never heard of—and the first impression he’s been given isn’t selling him on the new locale. He thinks he’s entitled to be a little bit grumpy.
Of course, he’s not going to force his sourness onto this rather laid-back man. At least someone here is finding things to be pleased about in their situation.]
I’m afraid it was.
[It’s probably for the best if Diggers doesn’t take any closer looks at the floor he was searching around on, now that he can see properly.]
I’ll concede that perhaps this one room isn’t representative of the entire resort, but if we’re to dress before leaving, I’m spying a bit of an obstacle toward that goal.
[Namely the distinct lack of trousers anywhere in this tiny space.]
[Liem may not be particularly suited to breaking down doors, but he is fairly good with his words, so perhaps he’ll give this one a shot. He raises his voice a little so it can be clearly heard through the closet door, not knowing that the one who shut them in here is a ghost and probably peeping through the door anyway right at this very moment, in the hopes of a little show.
In any case, his attempt goes something like this:]
Please open this door. We just got here, and really aren’t in the mood for this.
[Kiss, kiss, kiss for seven minutes!]
I’m sure there are other guests who would be happy to kiss in a closet. Probably some who even seek closets out for just that purpose.
[Kiss, kiss, kiss!]
The resort staff surely don’t want guests harassed on the premises. If you don’t let us out, we’ll have to lodge a complaint.
[For a moment, Liem looks at the red-eyed young man in surprise, his gaze now quietly assessing. As the youth’s tense manner and vengeful wish also suggested, his questions indicate to Liem that the life he was taken from was a hard and possibly even cruel one. He has the air of someone who was forced to grow up quickly, despite his obvious youth.]
You do have a point. All power can be taken, of course, but it is easier to lose that which you don’t fully control.
[Liem is content that his own power comes not from him, but from Abadar’s grace, just as he is content to be Abadar’s servant in the material plane. His mastery of that power will continue until he no longer has the desire or the ability to wield it in his patron’s name. But would he be pleased to wield the power of some unnamed entity with unknown ends? No, perhaps not.
It hardly matters. He is not in the habit of wishing for things to be given to him, like coins tossed to a beggar. Abadar only shows his followers the way; he expects them to carry themselves.]
Truthfully, I would not expect a wish you give to a candle to grant itself. I would think of such a thing more as a resolution: one that might help you to find the path to where you wish to be.
[Any lingering doubts he may have held evaporate the moment his name passes her lips. He knows her voice, as he knows the shape of her mouth, the colour of her eyes—and, when he steps closer and reaches out to brush his fingers against her hand, he knows the warmth of her skin. Konoha is sitting before him at this table, solid and real, the only familiar thing in a sea of unwelcome unknowns.
And every bit as trapped in this strange place as he is.]
It is.
[It is really him, just as it’s really her. They are both unwilling guests of a sprawling, supernatural resort that could not possibly exist in either of their worlds. But it does exist somewhere, and it has stolen both of them here for reasons nobody has yet been able to tell him. It is confusing and frustrating and frightening, he still doesn’t know what to do about any of it, and his joy at seeing a familiar face is tempered by the knowledge that she too is suffering alongside him. Nonetheless, he does feel joy, because he knows at least that he isn’t alone.]
I’m so glad to see you—and so sorry you’re here. Did you just arrive as well?
[ Well this is all going about as well as Broca's own attempt did. Actually, secretly Broca thinks the attempt he made might have gone a little better. At least he got the door to rattle a little, while this guy might as well politely be talking to a brick wall.
Then again, even the best negotiator he knew was a foul mouthed guy who would promise a lot more than a lodged complaint for lack of compliance. Seems like Mr. Manners here has never had to be a little more forceful in his deal making. ]
I don't think you're good at this sort of thing either.
[ Sorry, Liem. At least Broca has the decency to sound mildly apologetic as he casually insults Liem's negotiation skills. ]
[Liem’s touch is just a brush against her hand, so light that it could be dismissed as a trick of her mind, a phantom touch of a man she had once known so intimately… and she cannot let it remain just that, like a potential figment of her imagination, not for a single instant longer. Desperately, she releases the shocked cover for her gasp to reach out instead, fingers shaking with the surge of confusing emotions until she can clasp his hand in both of hers.
And there, there… Gods, but he feels exactly like she remembers. The shape of his knuckles, the tension in his tendons, the curve of his wrist, the faint chill of his skin and the slow beat of his heart…
He feels so real.]
Liem…
[A thousand questions bubble up her throat at once. What had he been doing? Did his companions succeed in their quest and return him to good health? What about the princess and his duties? Was he filling his days with good work? Was he happy? But it’s too many, and they aren’t even the answer to the actual question he asks her. She can’t just skip over that, of course not, no, she’ll-]
I did… There was- I woke up in this wet forest in a large room… and then everything just…
[Happened. All over again. How many times was this now? Three? How could one woman be taken three times? If it happens twice, it can happen thrice, she knew that was a saying for a reason, but she’d thought this time… this time finally…
Tears of relief and sadness glisten in her eyes, the initial fall temporarily hidden by her mask. She can’t hold off asking a single instant longer, even if there are a thousand things about their new circumstances that need discussing.]
… are you alright?
[She doesn’t mean here. Her hold on his hands tightens, warm and strong.]
[The stranger’s skepticism is clear enough, and Liem doesn’t begrudge it. Perhaps he is different from this man in believing that wishes can come true, bt that doesn’t necessarily mean that they will.]
I believe in the power of faith.
[Faith is a powerful thing, after all: not just to the faithful, but also to immensely powerful beings, who covet it in order to bolster their own reach.]
If you desire something, and you name it as your goal, and spend the entire year seeking ways to achieve it, a higher power may reward your dedication—but even if they do not, perhaps you will still have made progress. That is worthwhile.
[The only immediate reply that Liem dignifies the taller man’s comment with is a pointedly bland look, aimed over the muffled chanting still continuing on the other side of the door. It’s true that he isn’t achieving much success with his attempts at diplomacy, but he may as well be trying to convince a cardboard cut-out for all the reaction he seems to be getting from the miscreant who locked them in here.]
Why is it even possible to lock someone in here…? [comes his somewhat impatient mutter. Shouldn’t any closet with a lock have a simple latch inside, to easily unlock it from within? Whoever designed this closet was obviously completely sloppy in the safety department.
Regardless, that question is rhetorical. He doesn’t wait for an answer before moving on.]
I wonder how long we’d be waiting before someone else came by to open this door.
[Like, if it’s only going to be ten minutes, spending seven minutes kissing wouldn’t even get them out that much faster. But if it might be an hour or more…]
[Liem would be even more concerned if he knew the truth of how Konoha had awoken in this resort, in a forest that was full of snares and pits, without so much as a robe to cover herself. The fact that she didn’t appear in the basement rooms helps to explain how they’d avoided crossing paths until now, but even the brief description she gives is enough to make Liem’s brows draw together slightly behind his mask. He’d met enough other newcomers in that shoddy basement that it hadn’t occurred to him other new arrivals might appear elsewhere.
Well, it matters little now. However they arrived, they have both found their way here. Liem lifts his other hand to place it comfortingly over her clasped ones.]
I am well, Konoha.
[Stressed out, perhaps. Fuelled mostly by caffeine and stubborn determination. But he is as healthy as he’s ever been, short of the luxurious stay he spent in Noctium, toward the end when he’d started treating himself a little better.]
I have been to Taldor since we last spoke, in as good health as I ever was.
[Like, he did wake up on an altar, but that’s all behind him now. The important thing is that his head is fully attached to his shoulders, and Konoha no longer has to worry.]
[ Raphael, thankfully, doesn't even have to twist his words to admit this. His lips curl, and his hands gesture up at the jars. ]
Do you think, if they have faith, that they will not merely leave it in the hands of the powers that be, if they place their wishes to the universe in such a fashion? After all, if they believe, if they have Faith that it will be merely granted...
[ Raphael offered an ironic, wry little laugh. ] Why faith combined with hope is often a devastating combination, for those who wish to see something new.
[ The mildly scolding look doesn't seem to phase Broca in the slightest as he offers a small shrug in response. He calls 'em like he sees 'em, and unfortunately in this case he saw a whole lot of the prankster on the other side being completely unswayed by what Broca can only hope aren't Liem's best attempts.
If they are, then he especially doesn't feel bad for his apparently truthful comment.
Though the shrug doubles as a response to the question about the closet, because he's equally baffled on that front. He's never had to go looking for a latch on the inside, because no one has ever locked him inside of one before. He's also come across very few doors he couldn't simply destroy if push came to shove, but those other times he also usually came equipped with things like weapons... and shoes.
He could give it another go, but he feels like the length of time that it takes him to weaken the hinges with constant effort will do more work on his body than the door, and one can hope that someone would come by before then anyway.
Though ten minutes really is one thing, even an hour, but longer...
Broca gives the stuffy, proper looking little guy in front of him a thoughtful look, before offering. ]
I can just kiss you for seven minutes if he promises to let us out.
[ He taps roughly on the door to make it clear who he means. It's a proposition, but not a threat, and if Liem hems and haws and acts as unwilling to get up to something borderline intimate in a closet with a stranger as he looks like he would be to Broca, then Broca will sigh, find a spot to make himself comfortable, and take a nap. Seems not much else for it, but he doesn't particularly want to be stuck in here for an indeterminate amount of time. ]
I don't know that I believe faith will avail these people in particular anything, [he admits.
Liem doesn't actually disagree with the point behind the man's query. Based on the revellers he's encountered in this place, he'd guess that the majority of wishers taking part in this tradition aren't the type to plan ahead, or to actually spend much time working toward anything that takes more than just a brief effort. Even as foreign as the concept of a casino resort is to him, he's still confident in guessing that hard workers are a rare breed here. The guests seem more concerned with instant gratification.]
Unless, of course, the power that brought us here listens to the wishes as well. Who knows what desires it might reward?
The ones to please us the most, and require the least, I suspect!
[ It's an easy conclusion, it's what he would do, were he to keep a whole gaggle of prisoners that he wanted to keep deluded in happy. Hells, it's what his House of Hope did, until the moment one entered a contract with Raphael, at least. Lured into that false sense of security long enough to think that Raphael would be a kind master, once he collected on a debt.
He tapped his chin, considering. ]
They could even simply guess, and see what happens. It always astounds me, when one deludes themselves into believing they wanted something all along, hm? Or, they see gifts where there are none, perhaps. The possibilities are endless.
( makoto is a dangerously open book. this is a quality which had recently been exacerbated by his relocation from earth into hell, as he had been quite accomplished at keeping all pertinent information about himself kept close to the chest when living as a human—the circumstances he had been living in, and the hands that he had been living by, had been so extreme and trying that the force of emotion he experienced punched its way through the stony reserve he had developed as a human and took permanent residence in his nerves, working their way into his expression and demeanor. in hell, someone with this sort of mien would never make it far. deceit, obfuscation, and manipulation were the laws that governed it; one who made their heart obvious to others would always find themself used by them.
this is a realization makoto would have and learn from—the hard way—several years from now. as he stands here and now before liem, however, he is still as raw and vulnerable as an open wound. from this openness, everything he guesses about the young man from what he can observe in him is entirely accurate.
he nods, frowning. it doesn’t solidify his decision in asking for power rather than vengeance. power roughly given to someone wouldn’t be fully understood or perfectly controlled, would it? it feels like wishing for such a thing would just be foolishly manifesting a weapon into his own hands that someone like J could take to use against him. or, you know, just take from him and then mock him for reaching for in the first place…
he’s not the type of person who would well understand liem’s faith—his own thoughts on the subject are complicated and profoundly negative. any power one receives from another isn’t theirs at all, in his opinion, especially if it’s contingent on that patron’s judgment of their envoy’s morality (but, again, makoto is heavily biased in this). )
N-No, but… (you never know. he hadn’t expected the summoning circle he’d found in an old, dusty book on the esoteric and the occult to actually summon a demon—though he’d hoped it would. and when it actually had…
he turns towards liem at the suggestion. his brow creases for just a moment, but then his expression resolves, thoughtful. ) You’re right. Um… Okay. I think I have an idea.
( he takes the crumpled wish in his hand and discards it, instead finding another scrap of paper to write on. he doesn’t particularly try to hide it from liem, if he either wants to peek or respect makoto’s privacy; it reads: “I want to learn what I need to in order to be free.” and yet, as he writes it, he wonders exactly what it is he means. to be free from J? from hell? from the shackles of an eternal life he didn’t ask for? he isn’t sure… he just thinks that he most wants to be able to make decisions for himself again.
he folds it carefully. he doesn’t burn it yet, though, instead looking to liem with earnestness burning in his oddly metallic eyes. ) …Thank you.
[Liem doesn’t jump at the chance to make out in order to escape their makeshift prison—if he’d been well-disposed to the idea, he wouldn’t have ignored it so roundly before now—but neither does he reject it out of hand. Fussy and proper he may be, but he also isn’t so prudish that he’d prefer to be stuck in here for an hour or more rather than have to become intimate with someone he met two minutes ago. Probably.
Returning the man’s considering look, he looks up at him sidelong. He’s not entirely sure he believes the miscreant outside is actually intending to let them out if they kiss for seven minutes, but on the other hand, he’s kissed strangers for less. At least it probably can’t make their predicament worse.
After a moment’s consideration, he ventures a question.]
[ Liem's doubt in the troublemaker that locked them in here is understandable. Broca's not entirely certain that this is going to be their ticket out of here either, but he figures it's better than sitting here doing nothing. He's also not particular sentimental about things like kisses, and if they use it as an attempted business transaction, that sits just fine with him still.
It could even be bad, and it wouldn't particularly bother him, though apparently that is something that matters to Liem here.
Problem is...
Broca frowns, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he really, genuinely considers that question, before responding in all earnestness: ]
Dunno. I've never kissed myself.
[ Or asked for feedback on his past kisses either. No one has ever directly complained to him? But it takes a specific kind of person to complain about something like that. He's enjoyed past kisses well enough, but that doesn't mean he's a good kisser.
So in all fairness, he cannot objectively say yes or no. ]
[Is it a little suspicious that this stranger seems to speak so confidently on the granting of wishes to easily influenced people? Liem hasn’t decided yet, but he doesn’t entirely like the carefree way this man discusses the guests in this den of sin. His regard becomes a little warier.
After a moment’s consideration, though, he moves on entirely from the man’s musing to ask his own query.]
What of you?
[Liem gestures at the candles and papers sitting on the table, available for use. Like him, the stranger hasn’t made a move to write anything just yet—though it’s possible he just made a wish before Liem’s arrival.]
Do you have a wish to present to the powers that be?
[The resolution that finds its way into Makoto’s expression warms Liem’s regard, just a little. He has had far less opportunity to give support and advice than he would have liked, especially to any good effect, so the chance to help a young man in even a small way is still a pleasure. Whether or not the young man’s wish bears fruit, the burdens weighing on him seem to have lightened at least a little.
He watches the Makoto fetch a new piece of paper to write upon, but when he begins to write, Liem turns his eyes away. Instead he finds a slip of paper and a pen for himself, though he simply rests them on the table for now. He needs another moment to contemplate his own wish.
He knows where he needs to be; it’s just where he wishes to be that is in conflict. Really, he wishes he could be free to go where he’d like, and still be able to fulfill his duties as well. He just doesn’t know if such a thing is possible, given how far he wants to range.
But he still has a modest smile for the boy next to him when he speaks up again. Close-mouthed, of course, by force of habit.]
It was my pleasure. I hope your journey treats you well, young man, and you get where you want to be.
[ Liem is intelligent, to be suspicious of Raphael's attitude, obviously. Though the question doesn't surprise him, and Raphael's hand came to his chin, as if he were considering. ]
No, I do not think I would. What I wish for in life is not so easily granted, I'm afraid. Certainly not by the powers that be here.
[ That is an assumption, but... well. Raphael had good reason for assuming it was out of reach. ]
I think there are simply some things we must obtain ourselves, however, hm? It is not truly worth it, if it is handed to us.
[Liem can’t really be surprised when the brusque-seeming man he’s stuck in here with gives him such an unhelpful answer. Certainly nothing else about their interactions has suggested that his reply would be anything but short and vague. This reply does not, however, at all help him decide whether he wants to spend several minutes kissing this man on the off chance that the prankster outside will let them out.
So he decides to ask another question instead: one which is at least at relevant to his decision, if not more so. It seems like a pertinent question to ask of a total stranger stuck in a supply closet with him.]
[Liem chooses not to pursue his line of inquiry any further and ask what this man is so sure he cannot have here. There are any number of desires that would be impossible to grant within the confines of this resort, and more still that they have no reason to believe the resort's master could grant. Besides which, he assumes that if the man wanted to share the details, he would volunteer them.
In any case, he agrees easily enough with the notion that some things are only satisfying when they are earned.]
That is true enough.
[As they say: in many cases the journey is more important than the destination. Even when the destination itself is also important, he can easily think of boons that would be cheapened if received without first being earned.]
Hard work builds character, in any case—though I would guess some here are seeking a reprieve from it.
[ He agrees, and though Liem has a point, he certainly would not deny the occasional desperate or lazy individual. After all, if everyone built their characters, he would be out of a job. Though, that sort of thing is always the kind of thing shared by the most... resolute, and stalwart of individuals. ]
Would you, do you think? Eventually? Seek reprieve from endless trevail?
[He’d spent well over a year in an almost utopian land of peace and pleasure, his stay financed by the local government for the simple act of being intimate with other people. If he’d wanted, he could have spent those eighteen months in other people’s beds, not worked a single day, and lived in luxury the entire time.
Instead, he’d found a job. The work had been far less demanding than his own job back home, and it had eventually given him the opportunity to travel to lovely places, so to him it had seemed almost like leisure. But it was still work.]
And if I did, it would not be in a place like this.
( gnawing doubts, makoto’s constant bedfellows, hound him. it’s not specific enough, they decry, needling him for more specificity; it doesn’t have enough teeth. if this were another contract that he was forming with a demon, something signed with one’s christened name in the crimson of their blood, he would have given more consideration to the wording, to the vagueness, to how it might be interpreted. but this is a scrap of paper to be burnt to smoke and ash, leaving nothing behind to bind him body and soul. he hopes that it’s fine as it is, that it will be interpreted in a way that he doesn’t regret in the future.
he can sense the vague warmth from liem; the contentedness that emanates from the soul when one can offer help to another and see it received and taken to heart. as uncommon as an experience as this is for liem, it’s just as novel for makoto. typically he wouldn’t trust the advice anyone would give him, let alone an adult—they have always twisted their words and his understanding of them to their own ends, while fjord, his contemporary in hell, had given him advice on how to survive for nothing at all. makoto still feels as though he owes him (though, given what had happened directly before that advice, maybe not?). from liem, though, he senses a curious… void of self-interest. makoto’s eye for others’ intentions is not yet so sharp and discerning as it would one day be, but it’s a gut instinct he has, and he decides to trust it just this time.
he turns back ahead, going through the motions of dropping the piece of paper down into the jar and reaching for one of the matches. it’s as he goes through these steps of the ritual, however, that he can’t help but let his curiosity slip free from him: )
Are you going to wish to go home too?
( he immediately begins to regret it. he doesn’t think talking about it is going to endanger the wish (if their conversation has anything to say about it), but it’s still prying. his mouth presses together into a thin line; he strikes the match, brow furrowing a little as the flame threatens to burn his fingertips. )
I’ve just, um… I’ve noticed that a lot of people are wishing for that.
( he drops the match into the jar, watching the piece of paper catch almost immediately. ash, smoke. freedom. )
[ Principled, perhaps? Or merely the type for suspicion? It's difficult to say, at the outset. Raphael, of course, knew what types he preferred to interact with. It was the lazy, perhaps the suspicious. Those that had a desperate want, but not the means. Of course, he was a devil, what better prey was there? Sure, there was the merit of a difficult catch, but...
One could only have so many of those. ]
This display? Or... [ He gestured with a sweep of his arm outward. ] As a whole presentation?
[To Liem’s credit, he says this completely neutrally, as though he didn’t just make his disapproval of such places known. Perhaps this man likes such places. Much though Liem finds the concept predatory and vile, he recognizes the inherent futility (not to mention rudeness) in lecturing random strangers on the subject.
But still, since he was asked to elaborate, he will.]
Gambling is anathema to my faith. Also, it goes without saying that the way in which we were brought here leaves much to be desired.
[ You know, given the fact that Broca made the offer to make out with this stranger in the first place, that's a very fair question to lob in his direction. It's almost comical how dumbstruck Broca looks by it though, brow furrowing as if he hadn't considered for a second whether it mattered or not if the act of kissing was enjoyable.
... He hadn't. There are a lot of things Broca does just for the enjoyment of it, or to pass the time, rather than results. He hadn't exactly been considering if it mattered much in this situation.
Clearly it does to this man though, otherwise he wouldn't have asked about Broca's skill level, so it only felt fair to level with him on this one. ]
I mostly want to get out.
[ There's no apology in his words or tone, but he does give a small shrug to indicate that it's not going to be a huge deal to him one way or another. Surely someone will eventually get them out, though he'd still prefer the faster option of leaving. The guy in front of him isn't half-bad on the eyes, even if his attitude seems a little more uptight than Broca is used to, but it's not like he's dying to make out with a stranger in a closet regardless of looks. ]
[ "Faith", as predicted, catches the devil's interest. As it is wont to do. ]
I do agree with you on the second point. [ He said, with a gesture. ]
Nobody enjoys waking up in a place they did not fall asleep in, do they? Particularly if there were no circumstances that would precipitate it, I would think.
[ But of more interest... ]
Quite ironic that they would try to bring a holy man. You said it was anathema to your faith? Not every god asks for such... restraint.
[Liem smiles faintly in reply to the man’s remark, as though they are sharing a little joke between the two of them—though of course Liem never wakes up in unfamiliar places in normal circumstances. He is nowhere near fond enough of intoxicants for that to be the case.]
I would agree; it’s a strange choice.
[Perhaps his stay on Noctium persuaded the power in charge of this place that he might be receptive to this? Alternatively, the idea of corrupting him into indulging might hold appeal for some.
Or maybe the choice was little more than random chance.]
My patron is the Master of the First Vault, Abadar. [He holds up his right palm, displaying an intricate brand in the shape of a key with a palace framed inside its bow.] Gambling is a poor use of the wealth he bestows.
[ Now, Raphael is not familiar with Abadar, of course, but as Liem explains what he rules over, he understands, at least, why this would be a poor fit. Pious men can be found everywhere, after all, it is always just a question of what they were pious toward. In this case, toward wealth.
Raphael's laugh is...surprised, not mocking toward Liem, but toward the casino itself. ]
What a choice they have made, then! You are correct, I can understand why your god would become rather perturbed if you were to indulge.
[ His eyes took in the mark. [raphael will remember this] Though he only nodded toward the jars again. ]
I can see that such an offer would likely be a strong argument with your power on high as well. I suppose they cannot lure everyone then, hm? They will simply have to try harder.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
—Constantin
[Liem would not describe himself as especially enthralled by liquor. Perhaps slightly more so by shopping, but—as mentioned—he is currently a little strapped for funds. And that brings him full circle back to getting to know the neighbours. Well… there are worse problems to have, he supposes.
He pauses for a brief moment, blinking, when Constantin darts ahead and gestures grandly at the surroundings. What an odd, excitable man. Hopefully he doesn’t bump into any oncoming pedestrians or mailboxes or the like, turning around like that mid-stride.]
Ah, well the availability of luxury goods does seem quite widespread. I suppose I am interested to know how a city this large is maintained.
[Particularly located in the middle of a desert as this city is, and floating half a mile above the surface of the planet, no less. Even with a robust trade economy, he’d expect a certain level of domestic production would be necessary for goods that are less convenient to transport. Liem, please don’t keep talking about this stuff oh no here he goes.]
Just the waste management aspect alone is miles ahead of any city I’ve yet been in. You’ve noticed how pristine this place is, aside from the damage? And yet there must be hundreds of thousands of people living here, if not more.
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So, until then.]
Marvel upon marvel, [he... agrees? About... waste management?] I do believe the mechanisms are all underground! As it were.
[Underground in the sky. Anyway, plumbing, huh! And trash disposal, wow! This, too, is a novelty, genuinely— but the fact that Liem is more interested in waste management than luxury goods is so ridiculous; sir, that's nerdy.]
You aren't only interested in waste management, are you? I could walk you back to the endless mountains of garbage instead of to the nearest café, if you like.
[lol.....]
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I will respectfully decline.
[Excuse you, sir—waste management is an extremely important aspect of any city and a completely normal thing to be interested in. That does not mean he enjoys pawing around in the garbage.]
I happen to have many other interests that don’t involve garbage in the slightest, and at the moment I would say finding somewhere quiet to get a drink is chief among them.
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What is it they say about ducks?
[Anyway, never mind!! To emphasize how much they are never minding his sass, he pivots back around to face forward, standing up on his toes briefly to squint further down the street. He knows where the nearest cafe is, so it only makes sense to know 100 yards away if there is a considerable line.
In the meantime,] Our quiet drink is just ahead. So— tell me about your many other interests.
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Well, I’ve something of an interest in history. There are also a number of theatres and opera houses in my home city, which I have visited a few times.
[He’s trying his best to name things that aren’t directly related to his job, which seems like it would be going against the spirit of the inquiry. Make no mistake, though—he is interested in his work. He’d have to be, to still be doing the same thing after decades of service.]
I suppose now would be a good time for me to properly introduce myself, as well. I’m Liem Talbott.
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A patron of the arts! [who mucks around in the trash] You know, I've no idea if there exists an opera house in this city, but surely...
[A gesture around, like, surely? The city is, indeed, so huge? But besides the occasional street performers, he hasn't sought out any of the fancier forms of entertainment. Sitting still through an entire opera is not really his thing.]
Well, that aside— my name is Constantin. If I hear about any theatres, I shall send you the address.
[On the phone. Liem, please know how to use a phone. He can't teach this.]
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Much obliged, good sir. [What would gem theatre be like? He supposes it would be an interesting window into their culture, should a theatre or opera house turn out to actually exist in this city.] Are you fond of the arts, at all?
[This topic is a much more comfortable one than the issue of their predicament stranded on a strange world. Liem actually seems, if anything, slightly hopeful that the answer will be “yes.” Practically everyone from his country cares about the arts to at least some degree, so the topic is a familiar one to him. Please let him have this one thing.]
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[Which is a roundabout way of getting around saying "ehhhh," he figures. How could he shoot that one small hope down out of the sky so ruthlessly? No, that would be too cruel.
And it's true, at least, that New Serene is fairly devoid of entertainment beyond what's in the tavern and its disreputable cellar. Theatres, in such a small, fledgling city? Not yet!]
Perhaps one day we'll have a proper district of the arts! But until then...
[He gestures, like, well— nope!!]
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Ah… Then I will be sure to keep a sharp eye out for one as well, so that you may end your theatre drought.
[Did he actually mistake something Constantin said for genuine enthusiasm for such an outing? No. At this point, however, it’s more for his own good than anything else. Life cannot be entirely drinking and schmoozing in a floating paradise city. It is the least he can do as a good samaritan to at least point this man in the right direction, if he can.]
What are your interests, then? When you are not helpfully assisting strangers in need.
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That said: what's a hobby! He has been unfettered by his real job for mere weeks. It's drinking in neon bars, isn't it. Horrible.]
I... have a tragically unrealized passion for exploration, I suppose. This place is quite the pinnacle of adventuring abroad.
[Except they aren't really welcome to do things besides shop and touch hands, huh! The mountain adventure was fun, at least.]
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Is that so? Well, I suppose this circumstance makes for an ideal opportunity to explore new areas of interest.
[That is to say: perhaps while you are exploring the city, you will find a hobby as well. Now that they all have so much free time, he could take up… sports? Or poetry. Or, um… whittling! Liem is just concerned about the results of a lifestyle spent entirely roaming the city in search of novel things to do. That much freedom cannot possibly be good for one’s well being. ]
What was it that you did before arriving here?
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[And unsolicited, at that! But it's fine; he appreciates a little helpful nudge every now and then, if it comes from a place of at least a little genuine concern. Is he guessing? Sure, a bit, but Liem seems like an upright gentleman who wouldn't just roast a near stranger on the street.
Like, who would do that? Just sass strangers? Unthinkable. Anyway.]
At home, I am a governor! I suppose most of what I do is paperwork and talking to diplomats. It has its moments.
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That’s a lofty position. I can’t imagine many people have asked your assistance with something as trivial as hauling things into the garbage.
[So… oops? Sorry for probably being the first. He coughs gently, suddenly regretting his own audacity. If Liem had known, he probably would have just let the garbage can fall on him instead.]
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Anyway: bud, please.]
And? I am only the governor in my own home! What do you do? Surely not a trash collector in your own world?
[Considering he lost the battle against one can...]
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No.
[Of course he’s not a trash collector. Is this how garbage men dress where Constantin comes from? This one day of community service has netted him more sass than it has peace of mind.]
I’m a priest.
[He’s a priest in a city where he’s free to explore anywhere but the local temples. Somewhere, the gods of this world are having a good chuckle at his expense.]
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Anyway, maybe garbage men are fussy little guys in some places... it could happen.]
Oh! Really! I don't meet many proper men of faith doing my paperwork, [and also because his country straddles the line between abiding by the local faith and not, for Neutrality Reasons, but still,] so you must tell me all about it.
[Maybe not all. Maybe just some. But do it over a semi-quiet drink in this cafe that they've finally reached, while Constantin asks very many polite questions...]
—Diggers
[Argh, not Diggers touching the stains… What a steep price to pay for just being able to see more than eight inches from his nose.
Liem does not consider a bit of pessimism unreasonable in this circumstance. From his point of view, he’s just been scooped up from his rightful plane of existence for the third time, to be plopped once more into a place he’s never heard of—and the first impression he’s been given isn’t selling him on the new locale. He thinks he’s entitled to be a little bit grumpy.
Of course, he’s not going to force his sourness onto this rather laid-back man. At least someone here is finding things to be pleased about in their situation.]
I’m afraid it was.
[It’s probably for the best if Diggers doesn’t take any closer looks at the floor he was searching around on, now that he can see properly.]
I’ll concede that perhaps this one room isn’t representative of the entire resort, but if we’re to dress before leaving, I’m spying a bit of an obstacle toward that goal.
[Namely the distinct lack of trousers anywhere in this tiny space.]
—Broca
[Liem may not be particularly suited to breaking down doors, but he is fairly good with his words, so perhaps he’ll give this one a shot. He raises his voice a little so it can be clearly heard through the closet door, not knowing that the one who shut them in here is a ghost and probably peeping through the door anyway right at this very moment, in the hopes of a little show.
In any case, his attempt goes something like this:]
Please open this door. We just got here, and really aren’t in the mood for this.
[Kiss, kiss, kiss for seven minutes!]
I’m sure there are other guests who would be happy to kiss in a closet. Probably some who even seek closets out for just that purpose.
[Kiss, kiss, kiss!]
The resort staff surely don’t want guests harassed on the premises. If you don’t let us out, we’ll have to lodge a complaint.
[Kiss, kiss, kiss!
It’s not going super well.]
—Makoto
[For a moment, Liem looks at the red-eyed young man in surprise, his gaze now quietly assessing. As the youth’s tense manner and vengeful wish also suggested, his questions indicate to Liem that the life he was taken from was a hard and possibly even cruel one. He has the air of someone who was forced to grow up quickly, despite his obvious youth.]
You do have a point. All power can be taken, of course, but it is easier to lose that which you don’t fully control.
[Liem is content that his own power comes not from him, but from Abadar’s grace, just as he is content to be Abadar’s servant in the material plane. His mastery of that power will continue until he no longer has the desire or the ability to wield it in his patron’s name. But would he be pleased to wield the power of some unnamed entity with unknown ends? No, perhaps not.
It hardly matters. He is not in the habit of wishing for things to be given to him, like coins tossed to a beggar. Abadar only shows his followers the way; he expects them to carry themselves.]
Truthfully, I would not expect a wish you give to a candle to grant itself. I would think of such a thing more as a resolution: one that might help you to find the path to where you wish to be.
—Konoha
[Any lingering doubts he may have held evaporate the moment his name passes her lips. He knows her voice, as he knows the shape of her mouth, the colour of her eyes—and, when he steps closer and reaches out to brush his fingers against her hand, he knows the warmth of her skin. Konoha is sitting before him at this table, solid and real, the only familiar thing in a sea of unwelcome unknowns.
And every bit as trapped in this strange place as he is.]
It is.
[It is really him, just as it’s really her. They are both unwilling guests of a sprawling, supernatural resort that could not possibly exist in either of their worlds. But it does exist somewhere, and it has stolen both of them here for reasons nobody has yet been able to tell him. It is confusing and frustrating and frightening, he still doesn’t know what to do about any of it, and his joy at seeing a familiar face is tempered by the knowledge that she too is suffering alongside him. Nonetheless, he does feel joy, because he knows at least that he isn’t alone.]
I’m so glad to see you—and so sorry you’re here. Did you just arrive as well?
Re: —Broca
Then again, even the best negotiator he knew was a foul mouthed guy who would promise a lot more than a lodged complaint for lack of compliance. Seems like Mr. Manners here has never had to be a little more forceful in his deal making. ]
I don't think you're good at this sort of thing either.
[ Sorry, Liem. At least Broca has the decency to sound mildly apologetic as he casually insults Liem's negotiation skills. ]
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And there, there… Gods, but he feels exactly like she remembers. The shape of his knuckles, the tension in his tendons, the curve of his wrist, the faint chill of his skin and the slow beat of his heart…
He feels so real.]
Liem…
[A thousand questions bubble up her throat at once. What had he been doing? Did his companions succeed in their quest and return him to good health? What about the princess and his duties? Was he filling his days with good work? Was he happy? But it’s too many, and they aren’t even the answer to the actual question he asks her. She can’t just skip over that, of course not, no, she’ll-]
I did… There was- I woke up in this wet forest in a large room… and then everything just…
[Happened. All over again. How many times was this now? Three? How could one woman be taken three times? If it happens twice, it can happen thrice, she knew that was a saying for a reason, but she’d thought this time… this time finally…
Tears of relief and sadness glisten in her eyes, the initial fall temporarily hidden by her mask. She can’t hold off asking a single instant longer, even if there are a thousand things about their new circumstances that need discussing.]
… are you alright?
[She doesn’t mean here. Her hold on his hands tightens, warm and strong.]
—Raphael
[The stranger’s skepticism is clear enough, and Liem doesn’t begrudge it. Perhaps he is different from this man in believing that wishes can come true, bt that doesn’t necessarily mean that they will.]
I believe in the power of faith.
[Faith is a powerful thing, after all: not just to the faithful, but also to immensely powerful beings, who covet it in order to bolster their own reach.]
If you desire something, and you name it as your goal, and spend the entire year seeking ways to achieve it, a higher power may reward your dedication—but even if they do not, perhaps you will still have made progress. That is worthwhile.
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Why is it even possible to lock someone in here…? [comes his somewhat impatient mutter. Shouldn’t any closet with a lock have a simple latch inside, to easily unlock it from within? Whoever designed this closet was obviously completely sloppy in the safety department.
Regardless, that question is rhetorical. He doesn’t wait for an answer before moving on.]
I wonder how long we’d be waiting before someone else came by to open this door.
[Like, if it’s only going to be ten minutes, spending seven minutes kissing wouldn’t even get them out that much faster. But if it might be an hour or more…]
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Well, it matters little now. However they arrived, they have both found their way here. Liem lifts his other hand to place it comfortingly over her clasped ones.]
I am well, Konoha.
[Stressed out, perhaps. Fuelled mostly by caffeine and stubborn determination. But he is as healthy as he’s ever been, short of the luxurious stay he spent in Noctium, toward the end when he’d started treating himself a little better.]
I have been to Taldor since we last spoke, in as good health as I ever was.
[Like, he did wake up on an altar, but that’s all behind him now. The important thing is that his head is fully attached to his shoulders, and Konoha no longer has to worry.]
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[ Raphael, thankfully, doesn't even have to twist his words to admit this. His lips curl, and his hands gesture up at the jars. ]
Do you think, if they have faith, that they will not merely leave it in the hands of the powers that be, if they place their wishes to the universe in such a fashion? After all, if they believe, if they have Faith that it will be merely granted...
[ Raphael offered an ironic, wry little laugh. ] Why faith combined with hope is often a devastating combination, for those who wish to see something new.
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If they are, then he especially doesn't feel bad for his apparently truthful comment.
Though the shrug doubles as a response to the question about the closet, because he's equally baffled on that front. He's never had to go looking for a latch on the inside, because no one has ever locked him inside of one before. He's also come across very few doors he couldn't simply destroy if push came to shove, but those other times he also usually came equipped with things like weapons... and shoes.
He could give it another go, but he feels like the length of time that it takes him to weaken the hinges with constant effort will do more work on his body than the door, and one can hope that someone would come by before then anyway.
Though ten minutes really is one thing, even an hour, but longer...
Broca gives the stuffy, proper looking little guy in front of him a thoughtful look, before offering. ]
I can just kiss you for seven minutes if he promises to let us out.
[ He taps roughly on the door to make it clear who he means. It's a proposition, but not a threat, and if Liem hems and haws and acts as unwilling to get up to something borderline intimate in a closet with a stranger as he looks like he would be to Broca, then Broca will sigh, find a spot to make himself comfortable, and take a nap. Seems not much else for it, but he doesn't particularly want to be stuck in here for an indeterminate amount of time. ]
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Liem doesn't actually disagree with the point behind the man's query. Based on the revellers he's encountered in this place, he'd guess that the majority of wishers taking part in this tradition aren't the type to plan ahead, or to actually spend much time working toward anything that takes more than just a brief effort. Even as foreign as the concept of a casino resort is to him, he's still confident in guessing that hard workers are a rare breed here. The guests seem more concerned with instant gratification.]
Unless, of course, the power that brought us here listens to the wishes as well. Who knows what desires it might reward?
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[ It's an easy conclusion, it's what he would do, were he to keep a whole gaggle of prisoners that he wanted to keep deluded in happy. Hells, it's what his House of Hope did, until the moment one entered a contract with Raphael, at least. Lured into that false sense of security long enough to think that Raphael would be a kind master, once he collected on a debt.
He tapped his chin, considering. ]
They could even simply guess, and see what happens. It always astounds me, when one deludes themselves into believing they wanted something all along, hm? Or, they see gifts where there are none, perhaps. The possibilities are endless.
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this is a realization makoto would have and learn from—the hard way—several years from now. as he stands here and now before liem, however, he is still as raw and vulnerable as an open wound. from this openness, everything he guesses about the young man from what he can observe in him is entirely accurate.
he nods, frowning. it doesn’t solidify his decision in asking for power rather than vengeance. power roughly given to someone wouldn’t be fully understood or perfectly controlled, would it? it feels like wishing for such a thing would just be foolishly manifesting a weapon into his own hands that someone like J could take to use against him. or, you know, just take from him and then mock him for reaching for in the first place…
he’s not the type of person who would well understand liem’s faith—his own thoughts on the subject are complicated and profoundly negative. any power one receives from another isn’t theirs at all, in his opinion, especially if it’s contingent on that patron’s judgment of their envoy’s morality (but, again, makoto is heavily biased in this). )
N-No, but… ( you never know. he hadn’t expected the summoning circle he’d found in an old, dusty book on the esoteric and the occult to actually summon a demon—though he’d hoped it would. and when it actually had…
he turns towards liem at the suggestion. his brow creases for just a moment, but then his expression resolves, thoughtful. ) You’re right. Um… Okay. I think I have an idea.
( he takes the crumpled wish in his hand and discards it, instead finding another scrap of paper to write on. he doesn’t particularly try to hide it from liem, if he either wants to peek or respect makoto’s privacy; it reads: “I want to learn what I need to in order to be free.” and yet, as he writes it, he wonders exactly what it is he means. to be free from J? from hell? from the shackles of an eternal life he didn’t ask for? he isn’t sure… he just thinks that he most wants to be able to make decisions for himself again.
he folds it carefully. he doesn’t burn it yet, though, instead looking to liem with earnestness burning in his oddly metallic eyes. ) …Thank you.
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Returning the man’s considering look, he looks up at him sidelong. He’s not entirely sure he believes the miscreant outside is actually intending to let them out if they kiss for seven minutes, but on the other hand, he’s kissed strangers for less. At least it probably can’t make their predicament worse.
After a moment’s consideration, he ventures a question.]
Are you any good?
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It could even be bad, and it wouldn't particularly bother him, though apparently that is something that matters to Liem here.
Problem is...
Broca frowns, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he really, genuinely considers that question, before responding in all earnestness: ]
Dunno. I've never kissed myself.
[ Or asked for feedback on his past kisses either. No one has ever directly complained to him? But it takes a specific kind of person to complain about something like that. He's enjoyed past kisses well enough, but that doesn't mean he's a good kisser.
So in all fairness, he cannot objectively say yes or no. ]
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After a moment’s consideration, though, he moves on entirely from the man’s musing to ask his own query.]
What of you?
[Liem gestures at the candles and papers sitting on the table, available for use. Like him, the stranger hasn’t made a move to write anything just yet—though it’s possible he just made a wish before Liem’s arrival.]
Do you have a wish to present to the powers that be?
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He watches the Makoto fetch a new piece of paper to write upon, but when he begins to write, Liem turns his eyes away. Instead he finds a slip of paper and a pen for himself, though he simply rests them on the table for now. He needs another moment to contemplate his own wish.
He knows where he needs to be; it’s just where he wishes to be that is in conflict. Really, he wishes he could be free to go where he’d like, and still be able to fulfill his duties as well. He just doesn’t know if such a thing is possible, given how far he wants to range.
But he still has a modest smile for the boy next to him when he speaks up again. Close-mouthed, of course, by force of habit.]
It was my pleasure. I hope your journey treats you well, young man, and you get where you want to be.
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No, I do not think I would. What I wish for in life is not so easily granted, I'm afraid. Certainly not by the powers that be here.
[ That is an assumption, but... well. Raphael had good reason for assuming it was out of reach. ]
I think there are simply some things we must obtain ourselves, however, hm? It is not truly worth it, if it is handed to us.
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So he decides to ask another question instead: one which is at least at relevant to his decision, if not more so. It seems like a pertinent question to ask of a total stranger stuck in a supply closet with him.]
Do you want to kiss me?
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In any case, he agrees easily enough with the notion that some things are only satisfying when they are earned.]
That is true enough.
[As they say: in many cases the journey is more important than the destination. Even when the destination itself is also important, he can easily think of boons that would be cheapened if received without first being earned.]
Hard work builds character, in any case—though I would guess some here are seeking a reprieve from it.
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[ He agrees, and though Liem has a point, he certainly would not deny the occasional desperate or lazy individual. After all, if everyone built their characters, he would be out of a job. Though, that sort of thing is always the kind of thing shared by the most... resolute, and stalwart of individuals. ]
Would you, do you think? Eventually? Seek reprieve from endless trevail?
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[He’d spent well over a year in an almost utopian land of peace and pleasure, his stay financed by the local government for the simple act of being intimate with other people. If he’d wanted, he could have spent those eighteen months in other people’s beds, not worked a single day, and lived in luxury the entire time.
Instead, he’d found a job. The work had been far less demanding than his own job back home, and it had eventually given him the opportunity to travel to lovely places, so to him it had seemed almost like leisure. But it was still work.]
And if I did, it would not be in a place like this.
[The remark is dryly disapproving.]
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he can sense the vague warmth from liem; the contentedness that emanates from the soul when one can offer help to another and see it received and taken to heart. as uncommon as an experience as this is for liem, it’s just as novel for makoto. typically he wouldn’t trust the advice anyone would give him, let alone an adult—they have always twisted their words and his understanding of them to their own ends, while fjord, his contemporary in hell, had given him advice on how to survive for nothing at all. makoto still feels as though he owes him (though, given what had happened directly before that advice, maybe not?). from liem, though, he senses a curious… void of self-interest. makoto’s eye for others’ intentions is not yet so sharp and discerning as it would one day be, but it’s a gut instinct he has, and he decides to trust it just this time.
he turns back ahead, going through the motions of dropping the piece of paper down into the jar and reaching for one of the matches. it’s as he goes through these steps of the ritual, however, that he can’t help but let his curiosity slip free from him: )
Are you going to wish to go home too?
( he immediately begins to regret it. he doesn’t think talking about it is going to endanger the wish (if their conversation has anything to say about it), but it’s still prying. his mouth presses together into a thin line; he strikes the match, brow furrowing a little as the flame threatens to burn his fingertips. )
I’ve just, um… I’ve noticed that a lot of people are wishing for that.
( he drops the match into the jar, watching the piece of paper catch almost immediately. ash, smoke. freedom. )
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[ Principled, perhaps? Or merely the type for suspicion? It's difficult to say, at the outset. Raphael, of course, knew what types he preferred to interact with. It was the lazy, perhaps the suspicious. Those that had a desperate want, but not the means. Of course, he was a devil, what better prey was there? Sure, there was the merit of a difficult catch, but...
One could only have so many of those. ]
This display? Or... [ He gestured with a sweep of his arm outward. ] As a whole presentation?
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[To Liem’s credit, he says this completely neutrally, as though he didn’t just make his disapproval of such places known. Perhaps this man likes such places. Much though Liem finds the concept predatory and vile, he recognizes the inherent futility (not to mention rudeness) in lecturing random strangers on the subject.
But still, since he was asked to elaborate, he will.]
Gambling is anathema to my faith. Also, it goes without saying that the way in which we were brought here leaves much to be desired.
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... He hadn't. There are a lot of things Broca does just for the enjoyment of it, or to pass the time, rather than results. He hadn't exactly been considering if it mattered much in this situation.
Clearly it does to this man though, otherwise he wouldn't have asked about Broca's skill level, so it only felt fair to level with him on this one. ]
I mostly want to get out.
[ There's no apology in his words or tone, but he does give a small shrug to indicate that it's not going to be a huge deal to him one way or another. Surely someone will eventually get them out, though he'd still prefer the faster option of leaving. The guy in front of him isn't half-bad on the eyes, even if his attitude seems a little more uptight than Broca is used to, but it's not like he's dying to make out with a stranger in a closet regardless of looks. ]
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I do agree with you on the second point. [ He said, with a gesture. ]
Nobody enjoys waking up in a place they did not fall asleep in, do they? Particularly if there were no circumstances that would precipitate it, I would think.
[ But of more interest... ]
Quite ironic that they would try to bring a holy man. You said it was anathema to your faith? Not every god asks for such... restraint.
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I would agree; it’s a strange choice.
[Perhaps his stay on Noctium persuaded the power in charge of this place that he might be receptive to this? Alternatively, the idea of corrupting him into indulging might hold appeal for some.
Or maybe the choice was little more than random chance.]
My patron is the Master of the First Vault, Abadar. [He holds up his right palm, displaying an intricate brand in the shape of a key with a palace framed inside its bow.] Gambling is a poor use of the wealth he bestows.
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Raphael's laugh is...surprised, not mocking toward Liem, but toward the casino itself. ]
What a choice they have made, then! You are correct, I can understand why your god would become rather perturbed if you were to indulge.
[ His eyes took in the mark. [raphael will remember this] Though he only nodded toward the jars again. ]
I can see that such an offer would likely be a strong argument with your power on high as well. I suppose they cannot lure everyone then, hm? They will simply have to try harder.