Private Conversations

[dominioned]

The confessional before you is ornate and well maintained, ebony colored wood embellished with the visage of two angels. A jet black curtain separates the confessional from the rest of the Church, offering a surprising degree of privacy to any eavesdroppers nearby. Unlike the rest of Krakow, the inside is dimly lit by a small light bulb securely attached to the ceiling which emits a faint red light. While the atmosphere isn't exactly cozy, it is private.

A smooth voice calls out to you once you've sat down, familiar enough to identify the speaker despite the partition between you.

"Welcome welcome. I take it something is on your mind?"

We're in a museum now, Harry.

Comments

[p_q]

[It's certainly a time for Ulquiorra to be out and about -- though here, that works just about anytime, considering all Hollows are most at home in the night and with minimal signs of life roaming about; this week in particular, though, he moves both more stiffly and more deliberately through shadow, watching those moving through this strange mortal plane with flat eyes.

Not unlike a snake, or other reptile, for all that his Resurrección should be anything but. It's mundane(?) business that brings him to Rembrandt's doorstep at this point, though, the faintest jingle of keys in his pocket.

Were he a more community-minded person, or at least a more this-community-minded person, Ulquiorra would have been a bit more diligent about unlocking the city for general accessibility. But for now:]

It still isn't much of a church. [sure, insulting the grounds go] For you, I have an idle question.

[Well, this is after his meeting with the Lady, which presumably Rembrandt knows about by now. He's not at pains to beat around the bush, like, ever.]

[dominioned]

Because of decorum, or company? [ He may or he may not. Their relationship is a complicated thing. ]

Go ahead.

[p_q]

The lack of company.

[He's still a little disdainful of the fact that the church is just empty, even of blue-eyed shadows -- those would have been more useful company than the not-so-priest haunting its halls. That being said, Ulquiorra walking a church, much less multiple times, is still quite possibly one of the most ridiculous things to happen here.

A pause, and then he extracts a hand from his pocket with the ring of keys, a zillion of them just hanging out there.]

Quite an interesting item to find laying about the city, like many others. [he's patiently watching Rembrandt's reaction, or lack thereof] Your cleaning duties seem to be far more capricious than one would expect.

[Granted, that was already well in evidence with the... Hollow community service vs. trial vore deal........ but y'know. It bears repeating.]

[dominioned]

[ There's no need to scrutinize his expression because it's quite blatant, his lips twisting into a pleased grin. And we'll say Ulquiorra grabbed him on the rare occasion he's walking around the Church other than (maybe) sitting in the confessional all day. ]

Hoh, I had wondered if anyone would return these to me.

[p_q]

[You gotta get up and walk around and stretch!! And then maybe scuttle about like an eldritch abomination in the office!!! Otherwise you'd get hemorrhoids and not even Hollows love the body horror that is hemorrhoids.

There's something exasperated as he looks between Rembrandt's happy expression and. Just. The key hoard.]

Am I returning these to you? I don't see what need you'd have of them.

[It's so rhetorical. Nevertheless, he keeps his hold on the keys and his eyes on Rembrandt, perhaps a little curious.]

[dominioned]

You can. Or you may keep them, but they are largely worthless now that you have unlocked the kitchen. The remainder of them go to various places: gym lockers, keys on the bridge, and so on.

You didn't really think it was the citizens of the town who left keys for you in gameboards and Tyrannosaurus Rex replicas, did you? [ He both looks and sounds very smug. ]

[p_q]

Hmph. Perhaps I will remove those useless locks from the bridge.

[They'd still be largely useless, but he could probably find a purpose or two for them -- he just finds the entire concept annoying, from what little he understands or has overheard of it. Maybe it's irrational, or maybe he just has a stash of something he'd like to lock up for a while. Who knows.

He doesn't dignify Rembrandt with a glance at his expression. The smugness just radiates anyway, though.]

... One or two keys in odd places would have sufficed. This many keys, this many areas with conditional entry, and even the dullest mind would realize it was being led along.

What was the meaning of this?

[dominioned]

Of course, that was the entire point. When confronted with a query, it matters to me less whether it's solved or not, though I don't much entertain failure regardless—It matters how the answer is obtained. If you throw a thousand humans into a 20 meter pit, most of them will make a play to survive. But only some of them will crawl, step, and use the bodies of others to make it to the top. [ This is sure is some analogy that he just uttered, but he continues in a smooth tone. ]

In short, I wanted to see if anyone would confront me about this. Or if instead you would be content with spinning endless theories about fossils and other nonsense rather than address the matter properly.

[p_q]

[He doesn't even blink at the analogy, though something does shift in his stare -- talk of pits and climbing over corpses is familiar imagery, and not just because that's a great analogy for a Hollow Tuesday. Still, the rest of Ulquiorra doesn't shift at all, and it's possibly deliberate, the way he disallows the pulling of any reaction from himself.

Maybe he's just being contrary, too, because--]

A test, then. A fairly meaningless one, perhaps even a petty one, when you've already thrown so many humans together in this ridiculous little human town in an odd dimension. One would think the main event was not enough for you despite all the scrambling and noise.

[His tone makes clear what he thinks of all the chaos; the way everyone keeps falling over themselves at the thought of murder and death when it's still a cleaner and much more organized idea of death than he's ever encountered.]

[dominioned]

Humans are more greedy than I'll ever be. [ But point partially conceded, maybe. ]