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]

[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. ]