[video] -> [text]

[structuraldefect]

[The camera picks up a deep red couch and stone for a moment. The couch is empty. For the moment. Someone walks in. Heavy footsteps. Sits down in front of the laptop. Dull eyed and empty. Wearing a priest's outfit. He peers into the laptop for a few moments. Not particularly long, but not a quick glance. He seems to be clicking something, or else checking it.

Ah. He's got it now. He shifts his gaze from the keyboard up to the red blinking camera light.]

I'll be right back.

[Voomp. The video closes. Not suspiciously quickly. Don't get any ideas. Just a hanging moment, as he finds the right key, and x's it out.

A few moments later, this text appears.]

Now then. What can you tell me?

(OOC: Two things!
1. if you haven't hit up Kirei's permission post, you might wanna do that!
2. This is a double intro! R's Gilgamesh (effulge) will be hopping around at will! You should fill out his permissions, too!)

Comments

( ACTION. ) just jump him, gil

[structuraldefect]

[Sometimes he wonders if he knows what, exactly, Tokiomi's gotten himself into. He knows better than to ask out loud, of course. And there's very little to be done about it now. But Tokiomi tends to... turn blind eyes to things that he should, maybe perhaps, keep an eye open for.

Kirei's just sitting here, an enemy Master if nothing else, and it nags at him. If anything, he worries if he's seeing perhaps too much. Archer is impossible to ignore. Somehow. He commands attention. Well, the way he commands a lot of things. And there's something in the line of him that compels.

Kirei's rests his chin in the palm of his hand. Not quite bored. Just thinking, perhaps too much, about what sort of day this has been, and what it will probably continue to be. He shifts his gaze from Archer to the wine to the computer, not particularly flitting. Just not staring, closed and empty.]

I suppose we'll just have to pay closer attention. There does seem to be some consensus, in the broader view, but variations come up much too frequently to be ignored.

( ACTION. )

[structuraldefect]

[He slumps more. It's stressful. Not worrying. Not panic inducing. Just a heavy weight, in addition to the one he's already carrying. The right words seem so far away, so fleeting. He clasps his hands together beneath his chin. Thinking again. Trying to support his head, but it seems to lower under the weight, as if his strings have been torn and frayed.

Archer makes everything he does seem effortless. A snap of the fingers, a tilt of the head, and everything sloshes around him like the wine in his glasses. But it never spills over, never tips, except in precise, careful amounts. Never seems to stain him. Not like the ones Kirei carries, too closely, that spill over him and overflow.]

There must be a reason they all stay. Why some of them seem to like it so much, for all the supposed dangers.

kirei stahp

[structuraldefect]

[He thinks. He does that a lot. He crosses his arms as he does so. Not quite leaning back. But he's let go. It's a simple enough conversation. It just takes a bit of spin and polish, to sort the bundle of thoughts he'd gathered so far. If he were a different sort of person, he'd wonder at how easily giving information to Archer seemed, how the words just seemed to pour out of him unceasingly and with little effort.

But he's not that sort of person. What sort of person is he?

He doesn't want to know. Not entirely.

Once he knows, he's not sure he'd be able to turn back.]

They treat the most stunning revelations as if they're common. So, therefore, they must be here long enough for them to have gotten used to this place's [A pause, before he settles on] quirks.

Re: wow hahaha

[structuraldefect]

[He's done communion before. The wine as blood. The bread as body. Sometimes those wafers, the ones that taste like nothing. He's given communions, too. The line of people, waiting to be filled. Not with stale bread and over-rich wine. That the spirit of the lord would be carried inside them, to forgive them their sins. To remind them, in the dark of the night, that they are not alone.

But bread is just bread. And wine is just wine. No matter how many times Archer reaches for a refill.]

Or worse. Maybe they've been here too long.

[He's a bit relaxed, as the messages ping on the machine and he ignores them. A sort of slump to the way he sits. Still stiff, but less like he's stuck that way. And the beginning of something between a scoff and a laugh in his tone.]

[structuraldefect]

[He crosses his legs, and leans against the arm of the couch. Doesn't slouch over it. Doesn't lounge, either. Just a bit of a lean, so his hand rests on the edge, and so his palm can support his head as he thinks. A bend in the spine, to match the slump of shoulder.

And he wonders, but does not wonder, when he laughed. If he laughed. When did he last do that? A sort of bubbling in him, a lightness. Different than the brightness that gleams in the room. Not a sense of safety in it. Just a sense of... something. Laziness, almost. Like a long afternoon, hazing towards sunset, the sun low and orange.

He scoffs, shaking his head. Like he's getting the doldrums out with it.]

Perhaps they simply like it here.

[structuraldefect]

[He shakes his head. Watches Archer fill and refill. He almost blinks distinctly. He wasn't aware he said anything curious at all. And maybe he ought to be more cautious, of the gaps he fills and doesn't fill. But its hard to know the pitfalls, when he can only see the path ahead. No need to make obvious dodges, or go scanning for mines.]

Curious? How? [He shrugs, half hearted, a movement in the shoulders.] It seems logical enough. They must think there's something keeping them here, different from the threats or danger. Otherwise, they wouldn't treat it as something so ordinary.

[He thinks for a moment, tilting his head.] It could be apathy, too, easily enough.

[structuraldefect]

[His eyes shift away. Down, and to the left. As he ponders. Sometimes answers strike like a bolt of lightning. The charge zipping across skin, so much it burns. Other times it's as if they're hidden in plain sight. Repeatedly overlooked. To give the thoughts worth, to appraise them is too dangerous. Might be too much weight to carry. Might cause him to sink under, where the murk and shadows dwell. Much easier to slam the doors, to keep the thoughts away, although he hears a knocking whenever he walks past.]

Is it possible, then, that the community wants something from them? Or... [A pause. He stumbles over it.] The other way around?