psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

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This, Irahl can do. He's had this conversation often enough. As unpleasant as it is every time, at least he's the one who put himself here to have this conversation. For once, he has only been strong-armed into it by the situation at large, and not an individual or institution.

So, it's said much the same way he would give any report. There's only a shift of his weight from one foot to the other and slight rounding of his shoulders to show his discomfort.

"I'm full-blooded. There is no percentage of me that is human."

He lets a small pause sit, as this news had apparently been unbelievable to Vincent. His brother may not be the same way, but Irahl still wants to give the statement a beat of space, just long enough to sit before he further explains.

"He probably mentioned I was born in a lab." And if not, there it is. "But, I'm stuck in this form. I can't transform."

And then he waits, quietly braced.

Seth's reaction is mild. Irahl's answer is satisfactory, and much easier to parse than the mess Vincent had sent him. Is this explanation unsettling? Absolutely, but if Seth got upset about every existentially-challenging thing he learned about monsters, he'd have been out of a job a long time ago.

As it is, his attention drifts somewhere else as he balances this account against what he already knows, and he responds with a slight nod, but that's it.

"Have you ever been in a situation where you've lost control of your senses, or hurt people unwillingly because of it?"

Oh, and there's that extremely blunt and personal question asked with the same inflection as everything else.

It isn't the fact that this question would be considered blunt and terribly personal by the vast majority of normal people that bothers him. This is the question that he would ask, after all. It's the fact that--somehow--no one has ever thought to ask it before. So, it's not something that he has ever had to tell anyone.

He hardly admits to himself that it had happened, let alone admitting it out loud to someone else. For how impassive he is, the fact that he doesn't catch himself glancing off to the side is telling.

Lying isn't an option, though. It only takes a few seconds of deliberation for him to know that he wouldn't get away with avoiding or clouding the truth here. It's a gamble that he has no chance of winning.

So, another surgical admission (which is in no way similar to ripping off a bandage).

"Once... But I was young. And it had been my only chance at freedom."

Edited (new experience: correcting a typo while taking a shower) 2024-07-30 17:34 (UTC)

Unsurprising. In some ways, better than a 'no' would have been.

"I believe this is not an uncommon experience."

Which is not him saying that he's okay with it, exactly, but he's at least stating that this is normal and something he has dealt with before. Frankly, whatever his opinions on Irahl's supposed full-bloodedness, Seth can forgive one mishap. It would be horrendously hypocritical of him not to.

But he didn't say this to commiserate, either. He said it because he's about to get into something that's going to sound an awful lot like a threat without some assurance that he's not going to destroy Irahl over a singular incident.

"Has Vincent explained what I do for a living?"

It is reassuring, if only because it's another sign of hope toward Seth being a reasonable person, and not a hypocrite.

Irahl had seen one of Vincent's little 'slips.' He isn't expecting to be forgiven for what he himself had done, of course, but he would have been a little salty about any instant condemnation coming from either of these particular brothers.

So, he isn't exactly put at ease, but he does feel like he has enough room to answer with something not quite as clinical as everything else.

"'He does some political and military stuff.'"

They've been talking about some grim subjects--monsters, violence, being a weird lab experiment--but hearing what is undoubtedly a direct quote from his brother is the thing that finally gets him to frown.

It's disappointing to hear that his brother still doesn't think highly enough of his work to mention it, but he won't waste either of their time voicing this out loud. This man is already privy to more of their family dynamic than he's comfortable with anyway.

Instead, he'll balance out this (frankly unacceptable) display of emotion by reaching over to press his fingers lightly into the cover of that book he was reading. It means nothing, it just helps him shift his attention back to the task at hand. His gaze remains pointedly on Irahl while he speaks.

"I am one of a few high-ranking generals responsible for overseeing all extensions of the Capitol's military forces. Most relevant to this discussion, I've spent a decade cultivating the reputation and experience required to have been granted lead over a unit dedicated specifically and solely to the eradication of monsters."

A bit of a mouthful, but he could probably say all that in his sleep. Irahl isn't the only one who's had to give the same report over and over again. He'll give the other man a second or two to really let that sink in.

Edited (ugh i saw a typo just as I hit "send") 2024-07-30 21:00 (UTC)

Seth is not the only one who breaches the established rapport of trading facts and statements that are currently divorced from whatever attachments to emotion they may or may not have.

After he fills in the gaps of Irahl's knowledge with something that does sound quite a bit like a threat, the sniper breaks character with a smile.

It is not a good smile.

He can't help it; he is darkly delighted by everything contained in that statement. He loves the fact that he really does find himself talking to the exact person he'd want to be talking to right now. He loves that this dedicated monster-hunter is part monster himself. He loves the fact that this whole thing is more or less a threat--or, at the very least, there's a good chance that this man would probably love to kill him. He can't help but wonder how far it would go, how it would turn out, if it came down to it.

All in all, it is not a reassuring expression in the least. And the way that he's honestly quite pleased but the smile does not come close to reaching his eyes is probably the most inhuman thing he has done so far.

Unacceptable. He scoffs near-imperceptibly.

"Wipe that look off your face."

Not a very big reaction. He barely moves, doesn't seem particularly angry or disappointed, but it is an direct order and he does expect it to be followed.

He just finds the other man's expression disgusting and doesn't feel like he has to put up with looking at it. That's all.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, calling him out on his absolutely inappropriate expression makes it worse, for a couple of different reasons. Only one of those reasons is how suddenly he can picture this man saying the exact same thing to Vincent, probably a hundred times over. All of the other reasons are much more related to the actual situation at hand.

While Irahl is very good at following instructions, he is not a soldier. So, the smile spreads, and though he does tilt his head down semi-apologetically, he doesn't bother stopping the smile from turning into a low, easy chuckle.

"Sorry." He is absolutely not sorry. "Guess this is a bad time to ask if you're hiring, huh?"

It has been a very long time since his last interview, and if he remembers correctly, it had gone something like this as well.

Admittedly, he's been having a hard time understanding how his brother could be such good friends with this man. Bleeding heart or no, Vincent hadn't eased up on his grudge against Seth in nearly a decade, yet he thought this man's life was important enough to swallow his pride and ask for help. Not that he doesn't find Irahl agreeable. That's the problem. His brother doesn't have taste.

Unfortunately... Things are finally starting to make sense. There it is.

He continues to look vaguely disgusted with this behavior, but even he knows that Irahl isn't actually doing anything wrong. He hates being pushed, but it would be unreasonable to escalate things now.

"This isn't doing you any favors," he'll at least make that clear, "But I'm open to hearing why you would be interested."

The smile doesn't disappear, (not while his favorite subject is now being talked about,) but does rein in to a slightly-more-tolerable smirk as he explains. It won't make his initial smile any less distasteful, but clarifying a few things might at least put it into context.

If he accomplishes nothing else here, he wants to at least make sure that this man doesn't think that he'd been laughing at his life's work.

"Because I'm a hunter." He jostles the heavy, rifle-case-shaped bag still on his shoulder. "Sounds like we have similar callings in life. And I want to get back to work."

Well, that's a pretty good reason to be interested. With something of a pointed exhale, he takes his arm back. With the shift, he puts away his vague impulses to kill this man where he stands and returns to business.

Enthusiasm is not necessarily a bad thing, after all. It's just not his style.

"Yes. Vincent also informed me that you're a capable sniper."

And here they are, at that thing he put a pin in earlier, the second important thing he was told about this mystery man.

He can forgive Vincent for having said whatever it was that has resulted in this man using the word 'capable' without any other qualifiers attached.

It's fine. It's a term used positively, and there is nothing about how it's said that would give good cause for Irahl to be offended by it. And it's not like Vincent would have any logical reason to have said more than that much about it.

It's fine.

"I'm a very capable sniper."

He corrects this evenly, as if it's a simple fact that the record should be set straight on before they continue, as should be done with any other mistake.

"Back home, I'm the best hunter under the city's employ, and among the top marksmen on record."

Poor Vincent, out there eating cave-krill without a clue that Seth's absolutely going to let him take the blame for his own downscaling of this man's achievements. What else are little brothers for, right?

Anyway, Irahl's corrections are probably true. Seth probably believes him. But it's time for a brief detour.

"Which city would that be, exactly?"

Good news! Seth has found a way to finally wipe the last traces of Irahl's smile off of his face. It still takes him a moment, as so many decades of never hearing the phrase 'which city' is hard to unlearn, but a frown starts to appear as soon as he recalls the details of a certain conversation from the day before.

"A city so big and so singular that most people have forgotten it ever had a name. Which, apparently isn't 'the Capitol' Vincent had talked about."

As wild of an explanation as that is, it at least might tell Seth why Vincent had been so sure that the Capitol was where Irahl lived.

"Heard it called a couple of different things by different groups. Heard 'Precipice' and 'Timetica' most often."

While he did not ask the question just to wipe the smile off of Irahl's face, it sure makes him feel better to see that it actually works. But the information is helpful, even if he narrows his eyes slightly at a couple of city names he's never heard before.

"I see."

This also means that whatever records they kept are not helpful to him, so he's also abruptly done with the topic. It will be a research project for someone much smarter than he is, some other time. Back on topic.

"Why sniping?"

Irahl is always grateful to move off of a topic that he doesn't want to think about, and just as ready to latch onto a new one--especially one from the very short list of things that never fails to get him fully invested.

This is another one of those questions that he has been asked many times over the years, and so there exists a small pool of default answers that he has waiting to hand out whenever needed.

However, it seems a disservice to give this man one of those answers, because none of them are quite honest. This seems like one of the rare circumstances that calls for an honest answer. It's the sort of honest that he usually only uses around the group who all share the brand on his wrist. It's certainly not the sort of honest that he uses around Vincent.

"Any kill that is less than instant is a potential disaster. And only one thing is instant."

"Good answer."

Now they're talking. Irahl is rewarded for this brutal honesty with a slight incline of the head and a renewed interest in what else he has to say. Which, of course, means more questions.

"Other skills?"

The more that Seth reminds Irahl of the comrades that he has seen less and less of in recent days, the more some of the old enthusiasm that has been wearing away lately begins to return. Even though this man is still technically a stranger, this conversation has Irahl feeling more right than he has in a while.

"I'm a hunter--do my own tracking, scouting, and dispatching whenever I can. Basic field medicine and mechanical knowledge. Excel at marksmanship, but can also take care of myself up close without teammates around. Stronger and faster than I look... And I'm very hard to kill."

Seth has been interested in potentially hiring this man ever since Vincent told him there was another self-possessed brab'ja out there, and that they were good with a sniper rifle.

Dangerous as they are, the few others of his kind he's found during the course of his work have been very fast, very strong, and usually very loyal; these qualities put them a step above everyone else, regardless of their actual skill with a weapon.

But it's a pleasant surprise to hear that this one is basically already good to go, they just need to evaluate a few things. Mainly how well he works with others, since there's a distinct absence of that in his list. Seth barely reacts on the surface, of course, maintaining his stony composure. Irahl will just have to take it as a good sign that he's continuing to ask questions.

"How are you at following orders?"

An honest question. He'll even pretend he doesn't already have an opinion.

It's the incremental exchange of subtle courtesies and respect that add up, (especially when the vast majority of the people in the world don't seem to trade in the same currency,) so by this point, it would be quite the step backward if he gave the good answer instead of the honest one here.

Besides, he would've loved the luxury to have been asked this question at all back home. He doesn't want to end up in that place again. So, if this guy isn't okay with the honest answer, it wasn't meant to be.

"I'm not a soldier. Great at following orders when they're good ones, but I'm not going to follow a bad call."

Despite the earlier slight, and other potential inconveniences, this is not necessarily a bad quality. And he appreciates that this man seems to have once again given him an honest answer rather than an appealing one.

"Understood."

There is a moment's pause from Seth as he double-checks the mental report he's been compiling on this man. There are a few granular points that will need to be checked out, but otherwise, he feels he has a fairly complete picture.

"If what you say is true, your skillset would be extremely beneficial to this effort. I am willing to hire you on today under general contract, but if you are willing to submit to further evaluation, I believe you may be a good fit for specialized position that would involve working with me directly."

The choice is ultimately Irahl's, and he waits yet again to let the other man consider whether or not he likes Seth's whole vibe enough to jump headfirst into a potentially long-term working relationship with him. He'd make a valuable addition to the team either way.

A shift happens when the evaluation process abruptly reaches a conclusion. Irahl had been doggedly focused in, navigating moment-to-moment, following where his excitement and instinct has led him. And like a dog following a trail, he hasn't realized how deep into the woods he'd run until he actually stops to look around.

Potentially big moves have been made, following a day that has been nothing but big moves. Not only does he not know how far from home he is--both figuratively and literally--he might be going even farther.

Irahl finds himself suddenly at the precipice of a commitment, and he balks. He tries to keep a tight rein on what he shows externally as he takes a moment to think, and think hard.

"...I don't know how anything works here." He'll start with an admission and work backwards toward an answer. "Back home, I was an independent contract. Brought in for specialized hunts or tasks, and on-call for critical emergencies."

His mind spins as he tries to figure out how to express both all of his eagerness and all of his reservations. After what he'd gone through in his own city, he doesn't want to stumble into what might be--for all he knows--an even tighter grip around his freedom.

"I'm not a soldier. I want to get back to hunting, I want to work, I want to keep my gear... but I'm done with being owned."

His tone is clear and sure on this, but his shrug under the heavy weight of gear bag is a helpless one. He doesn't know if what he's describing is even possible in this alien situation that he has found himself in, or if he'll get in trouble for even saying it. He knows he's in no position to bargain here, but for once, he has to at least try and make his desires known while there is a small window for it.

"Whatever that means here, I'm game for."

If he's bothered (or even surprised) by these admissions, he doesn't show it. He listens to all of Irahl's reservations, gazing levelly at him with the same level of attention he's shown the entire conversation. He may be an exacting, razor-sharp presence to have to contend with, but at least he seems to take the man's concerns as seriously as he takes his own.

He pauses, again, to consider a tactful way to say what he thinks will be a reassurance.

"I've spent a very long time commanding soldiers," he begins, bowing his head slightly to express that he does not mean this from a place of authority, "But I have little interest in that anymore. I prefer to work with people. And I prefer that those people fight because they believe in the cause, not because they've been forced into that position by rank or circumstance."

His gaze lowers a moment, as he thinks of... Many things. Many people.

"I have worked very hard to earn this level of freedom for myself, and I am very fortunate to get to extend that freedom to others who would have a very difficult time of it otherwise."

This is something he cannot help but almost show an expression about. A sort of softening at the edges of his countenance, similar to how he gets when he's speaking to Vincent.

"I demand excellence and I will not tolerate disrespect," he says, "But in exchange, rest assured that I do not force those who rely on me into a position of powerlessness under any circumstances. It is a loathsome tactic employed by shortsighted cowards, and I've put up with it for far too long in my own career to find any joy in the notion."

Not that he seems like the kind of guy who finds joy in anything, but his point still stands.

As he takes in everything that this man is saying, Irahl's shoulders sink--both in relief and under the sheer weight of what he's hearing. It's everything that he has always wished he could hear from his superiors back home, and is so much more akin to those who he had actually made the decision to follow. It meshes perfectly with his goals and vendettas, at least on paper.

And that is often enough for Irahl.

In that moment of processing and deliberation, he can't help but idly note that he now sees the point where the twins overlap. While he would never call either brother 'gregarious,' there's still a distinct sense of humanity that he has sensed in both of them. It's something that he feels he himself lacks, but he can't help but distantly admire it in others.

So, when Irahl shrugs his gear bag higher on his shoulder from where it had begun to slide, he's standing a little taller and straighter.

As he puts together his answer, he busies with one sleeve, rolling it back and pushing down the cuff of the glove on that hand, until the underside of his wrist is exposed.

"Don't know if the slayers have made it this far out. Maybe in the old texts somewhere. Sometimes their insignia ends up on the gear of hunters and special operative units. But only those who have joined for life carry the mark themselves."

The brand is a little blurred and faded with how many years had passed since it'd been given, but it's still visible.

"I've already given my vow to the cause. I want to get back to work. Give me the room for it, point me in the right direction, and I will give excellence."

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