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audio / Soviseri 29 / all Kenoma

[ Howl's psychic voice is familiar in the way it sounds, but not in the way it feels. There is no mirth, no haughty playfulness, no usual thread of flippancy to his words. He is exhausted, on edge, and anxious, and it leaks into his message. Although "leaks" is not even the right word — he is making no real attempt at hiding his misery right now. ]

Aions have arrived in this world twice so far. The second batch appeared in the Shrines about three months after the first.

Tomorrow... marks another three months.

[ it's much too early to say there is any kind of pattern to it all, but... ]

Those of you whole enough to travel to the Shrines and check for new Aions must do so. We cannot afford to let the Pleroma strengthen their numbers.

[ And for now, he leaves it at that. No indication of what he is planning to do with his weekend, and definitely, conspicuously no mention of the mission failures, the traitors, or the prisoners. ]

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[She wouldn't be walking around so easily if it lasted, now will she?]

Let's have it at one of the courtyard terrace. How about with a view of the ocean or the river? The southwest one or the northeastern one, in say about half an hour to an hour?

[The time to get everything set up, of course. She'll ask for some of the servants to help roll things out.]

Southwest. The ocean.

I'll see you there.

[ With that, Howl places his Shard back in his chest, but he doesn't get up from bed for a long while after, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling. He's got to get up and get ready, groom himself properly and put on something respectable, but he has a hard time getting himself to move. Eventually, he does, and somehow he manages to get there just before the point of being late.

A long black coat, embroidered with silky black patterns and trimmed with wine red silk, sits on Howl's shoulders. He has left his hair black today, which is unusual for him, but not rare. All this black can't hide a handful of glaring new changes to his appearance, though — mainly the feathers sprouting from the sides of his face, along his cheeks and jaw, and the discoloration fingertips peeking out from the bottom of the coat.

He approaches Ciel and the tea table with his usual practiced smile. ]

You weren't lying. You look quite well.

[Ciel is there long before him, having taken the liberties of setting the table with the help of a couple of servants. It is a rather nice day out, the chaos of the past few weeks set aside. So she opts to dress into something less severe than her usual robes, especially knowing the nature of her guest: a navy blue sleeveless sundress that reaches her knees, though her sternum is covered as it's where her shard is embedded. She still makes it a habit of keeping it concealed through her everyday routine, and while the dress is simple, maybe even somewhat plain, it's still casual and more effort than she usually puts in appearing less... businesslike.

He'll find her standing near the neatly set table garnished with a tea set and bite-sized snacks sweet and salty, that her lower legs are exposed do prove her words beyond doubt too. There isn't so much as a lingering scar, she looks perfectly fine and healthy without the faintest hint of injury on her person.

His smile is returned, bright and cheery. Just a lady greeting him for afternoon tea, nothing more and nothing less.]

Of course, it would do no good to anyone for me to downplay my injuries—if I had any. [Which she clearly doesn't, not anymore, so she gestures towards the seat on the other side of the table.] Have a seat?

[And she absolutely sees it, how he looks worse for wear with those inhuman touches on his body and in the pallor of his fingers. ...Howl.]

[ Ciel's unusual attire is not lost on Howl. She looks... good. This outfit suits her well. She actually resembles a typical young woman of her apparent age for once, and she even looks... quite lovely, if Howl is honest with himself. But his eyes dart over her for only a short moment, before tearing away to look at the tea table instead, lest the length of his gaze give away any of those thoughts. He is not in the mood to admire pretty girls and definitely did not come here to admire Ciel specifically. ]

Thank you.

[ After taking a seat, Howl leans back in his chair and crosses one ankle over his knee. He knows Ciel must have spotted the feathers on his face by now, but he keeps his hands folded discreetly (and perhaps, a bit conspicuously) behind the long flaps of his coat. ]

[She'd be lying if she said she simply changed attire on a whim. Howl didn't like it when things get too serious, that's a fact. Whether it's chalked up to his Legacy or what she's already seen of him firsthand, it is in part for his sake, though her only intent is to alleviate matters. Make an effort at pretending that things are normal, that they can still live their lives here and relax a little, when the mission they went on and the results they reaped were anything but.

He sits, and she gets on pouring them both a cup of tea. Once done, she also assumes her seat.]

Of course, we could all use a change of pace after everything that's happened. [Tea time break very much counts.] There's more to recovery than just resting, though. Have you been eating well?

[Nag or not, as to emphasize her point, she picks a macaron off the plate of sweets, its color a pale violet. There are small wraps and sandwiches too, if he's not feeling much of a sweet tooth right now?]

[ It'd quite transparent to Howl what Ciel's motivations are in inviting him here and speaking to him this way. To a large degree, he doesn't mind it, and actually enjoys it. Howl is so unaccustomed to people going out of their way to be concerned about his well-being that it feels good to have someone care. And he does know and understand that Ciel cares, even while he does not understand why or feel he deserves it.

He watches her pour the tea and studies the steaming brown liquid in the cup as he contemplates her subtly probing statements. There's no way to avoid the glaring topics at hand. Having accepted that, he reaches out with one hand to put a sugar cube into his teacup. Most of his hand and arm is covered by his coat, but his fingernails are much longer and more wicked than they had been a few weeks ago, and the skin is stained a greyish-brown hue. At the edges of his wrist, large feathers burst out of his skin. ]

I trust my retainer to bring me healthy meals. I have no reason to doubt anything he's served me.

[ After depositing a few sugar cubes, he reaches for some macarons, using his new claw-like nails to pluck them from the three-tiered stand. ]

...I assume you've heard the rumors. About how we captured two Pleroma.

[It's easily to lose oneself through the merciless beats of their work. Frankly, Ciel herself deserves no respite, and she knows this. But she is not by herself, she is not working alone. They are a team, dysfunctional as many may be, and they have to ride this out together regardless of what they must endure, and how the chips fall in the end.

So she persists, and repeats the motions she already knows. The rhythm of everyday living: not meandering through the days because one is alive, but soaking up what it offers and going along with the dance for the purpose of something that necessitates moving forward. This little afternoon tea session is part of that, for what it's worth; it's doing things and taking part in social interactions, for what it's worth.]

That's good to hear. They do work hard in our best interest, but some among our ranks are unfortunately negligent enough to skip meals or eat irregularly despite their retainers' best efforts. [Wonder who she's talking about... She doesn't dwell though, taking a sip of her tea as she motors on. It's chamomile, the color a warm honey-hued glow.

And he gets straight to business. He's... changed, hasn't he. What parts had he lost, before anyone else he's met here could even come to identify the pieces that made him whole?]

It's the talk of Achamoth, yes.

[So much for keeping work and personal life separate.]

[ Howl has changed. And not just the worrying physical changes he's failing to keep hidden from Ciel, vestiges of his painful transformation magic that still have not faded away, days after their return to Achamoth. Howl himself senses the change in himself, but it serves only as a hidden source of anxiety at the moment. Even if he had good concept of what's wrong with him, he would not know what to think of it.

Perhaps relatedly, he does not know what to think about Ciel's confirmation of the rumors. Those "rumors" he's referring to were much more detailed than the simple fact that prisoners had been taken. Hearing her confirm the basic headline makes him pause and look down into his tea. Does he want to talk about this right now...? They should, shouldn't they? It's important. These quiet days after returning from Godsblood... they should probably be considered the eye of the storm passing over them, a moment of respite before the hurricane of violence starts to howl again. But it occurs to him now that Ciel had not even come close to bringing it up. Why did she invite him here? What is it she wants him to say?

He sighs silently and bites the macaron in his claws in half. The creamy, ultra-sweet flavor fills his mouth. It's a wonderful, delectable sensory experience. Being alive, being in Achamoth, means he gets to enjoy things like this. ]

I wonder if it's the only reason we were not punished en masse for our failures. [ He takes the second bite and picks up his teacup as he chews and swallows. ] ...Those who are responsible for capturing them deserve our gratitude.

[ He knows it was Ciel and Emet-Selch, from what the rumors say. He wants to see what she says. ]

[Yes, Ciel has a feeling that his physical changes don't have anything to do with some form of fashion statement. It's nowhere near as bad as when she had to stabilize him from the brink of dissipation, but that was also the only other point of reference she could draw upon, why he's suddenly exhibiting signs of his demonic bird form when they're in any active combat situation.

...]

I doubt it. The Regent prizes effort over results, loyalty over capability. Like when we were ordered to stop the Pleromas from leaving the cave of that ritual, our dispatch this time could have been another test, albeit with higher stakes.

[And they didn't fail it, at least not completely is the implication. She doesn't glance his way as she raises her cup to her lips and takes a sip after, calm and composed without a hint of how she may feel over the matter of prisoners in particular.

(What's he looking for? ...Maybe she should change the subject, soon.)]

[ The thought of all that being just another test makes Howl's neutral expression waver ever so slightly. Everyone had suffered so immensely, trying to comply with the Regent's orders... had it all just been a roundabout way of measuring their loyalty? Well. Maybe it had. Traitors were sniffed out, and he knows of at least one Aion who was pushed to defect after it all.

In the seconds that pass after Ciel's answer, Howl seems to find satisfaction and concede the point. He takes a purposeful sip from his teacup and sets it down with a clink. ]

...well, in any event, I am certainly thankful that they are not as upset with our failure as I'd feared they would be. [ He smiles, a glimpse of his usual good humor shining through his exhaustion. ] It's good for one's humility to be thankful for the good that comes your way, yes? Or something like that.

[There's about a million ways to take Vaeka out if she was truly a threat. She could have been assassinated. She could have been executed the day after the address, giving the Pleromas as little time to prepare as possible. But every time without fail, some roundabout and inefficient method had been chosen, decreed by the Regent themselves. It's what makes it difficult to take these orders at face value, to NOT see them as another test to overcome.

Ultimately, they scored passing marks, and that was what mattered.]

That may well apply to many of us. The Godsblood team did what it could. Do you not feel as if you've performed adequately, Howl?

[He defended their keep the best he could. More importantly, didn't he...?

It's not a pleasant topic though, so she leaves it vague on purpose as she takes another sip of her tea. He did his part in Godsblood, that alone should exonerate him of any punishment. Does he have any reason to feel otherwise...?]

Hm...

[ Picking up his teaspoon, Howl quietly considers the question as he gives his tea a light stir. The metal clinks softly against the porcelain teacup, like they're heralding the thoughts quietly lining up in his head. His thoughts on the question are, in fact, clear and straightforward. As he'd told Emet-Selch earlier, it's the way he feels about it all that makes him uneasy. At least he understands that now, at the time of this get-together with Ciel.

The wizard takes a sip from his cup and sets it back on the saucer. ]

...I suppose I have. Adequate in the sense that I have followed orders and given a proper effort in doing so.

[ The actions of using the spoon, stirring his tea, grasping the handle of the teacup... they've put Howl's hands above the table, into the field of view of both himself and Ciel. But now that he's put it everything down, he's still holding his hands up, looking down into his blackened, roughened palms. It seems Howl is giving Ciel a clear look at how his hands have changed, or at least, does not care if she looks anymore. These deformities are related to the topic at hand. ]

But I... [ hesitates. it takes him a moment, but he decides that he can trust her with a sliver of the thoughts neatly lined up in his head. ] ...the things I've done for the Regent... Mmm. Would I have ever done these things before I came to this world and became an Aion...?

[ Howl seems legitimately uncertain. He isn't asking himself a rhetorical question. ]

["Is this what you wanted to do?"

She almost asks, but stops herself. It's hard to forget the rending look of frustration he gave her when she asked him last, what he wanted to do. So she puts her cup back down and mulls it over, and it's when he puts his hands above the table accompanied by his musings that it clicks for her.

Aions are shaped by self-perception.

Howl lost something they cannot quantify or identify, the week he was gone and couldn't attend the 'welcome party' for the second wave of Aions.

And now, he's performed "adequately".]

How did it make you feel? Carrying out orders with effort.

[She keeps her tone neutral, deceptively soft even, and lifts her head to look at him in the eyes properly. How he'll answer and his expression in doing so will be far more important than the state of his hands, there is no doubt in her mind.

What piece of himself was taken from him...?]

[ Ciel is sharp. She's picked up on the heart of the matter quickly, impressively so. A soft, humorless smile floats onto Howl's features as he looks down at his hands. The darkened, roughened change to his palms is hard to describe, something between burn scars and callouses. Could he comfortably touch another person with hands like this? A woman? Who would want him to touch them with these hands, when Howl wouldn't want to be touched by them himself?

With a soft sigh, he takes a tea sandwich from the platter as an excuse to lower his hands. ]

I felt... fine. It didn't bother me at all.

[ The neutral tone of his voice helps elaborate: really, he felt almost nothing. Howl is more bothered by how wrong that itself feels, than by the feelings themselves. He isn't one to feel nothing as he launches homicidal attacks on others, risking his own life to do so. He remembers when warfare like this disturbed him greatly, a time when he was willing to sacrifice his life to stop such fighting, not perpetuate it. ]

...Is that not how you feel, in the same situation, Ciel? [ another genuine question. there's no sarcasm in his voice. ]

[So... that's what it was.

The realization is sobering. It SHOULD be alarming, yet Ciel doesn't find herself particularly surprised by the revelation. It should've been obvious in hindsight, and watching Howl now confirms it: those found inadequate have their humanity stripped, in order to become more efficient for this "cause" that unites them all. Morals, motives, the things people feel that drive them into doing what they want to do... Of course it's been related, all along.]

No, it's not the same.

[She refutes quietly, stewing on the dawning realization of what he might've lost. What's being stripped from Liem and Barnaby right now too, possibly, most likely.]

I make the conscious choice to act however I must for what I have to do. It's like flipping a switch, if you will.

[She leans forward in her seat a bit as she continues affixing him through clear blue eyes, while her hands hover at the rim of her cup.]

You don't have that, do you? It's unconscious, automatic.

[His switch is broken. Can he refute that?]

[ That answer strikes Howl as odd. He'd asked about how she felt, not how she makes her decisions. Howl tips his head, looking down as he tears a corner away from the tea sandwich. ]

...have what? A choice? You misunderstand. I am in clear control of my actions, and I do not claim otherwise.

[ He chews the torn-off bite of food for a moment, an excuse to pause his words. How to best put this? ]

Perhaps a bit too in control.

That's the heart of it, isn't it? As easy as it was for you to act, you still feel like something isn't quite right, you're also aware enough of that oddity to talk about it. [Is it clearer, if she puts it that way?] It's not the same as riding a bike or swimming, practicing muscle memory innate and natural to you.

[She finally takes her eyes off him, and takes another sip of her own cup. Putting it back down after a short pause, she gives a quiet exhale before continuing.]

That's logical, too. Hurting others is not [should not be] comparable. For those who don't take enjoyment in others' suffering, doing work that enables it boils down to a matter of necessity.

[...]

Did you thought of that, that what you were doing is necessary?

[Did he think at all?]

[ Did he...? Did he think it was necessary? It was, wasn't it? It's what the Regent demanded they do. Yes, isn't that what made it necessary?

But Howl is quiet, and this time the silence lasts much longer. Avoiding eye contact with Ciel, he tears bites from the sandwich with his long black nails, almost like a child playing with his food. It isn't until he's on the final piece that he speaks again. ]

...There was a war going on in my world before I came here. Our king, the one I'd sworn allegiance to when I graduated from the Sorcerer's Academy, was waging an assault on a neighboring country... The justification was transparently flimsy. I'd long ago refused to be a member of his military, which made me both a pariah and an outlaw, but... I didn't care. My freedom is what mattered most to me, including my freedom to refuse the crown's call to war.

And my freedom to be with Calcifer. [ his.. friend, who he's told Ciel about before, albeit in coded language.

He sets the final square of sandwich back on his plate and glances cautiously at Ciel. ]

I was an active participant in the war, before everything was lost, but it was as more of a... saboteur. I remember feeling that my involvement, in that sense, was necessary. To interfere and obstruct their war mages and airships...

[ His willingness back then to throw himself entirely at stopping their bombs, even at the cost to himself, has clear parallels to the conflict here in Horos. So why does it not feel the same? ]

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