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

[bawcock]

[ That's easier said than done! At the same time, if Rembrandt doesn't want to talk about it, he gets that. Sometimes, it's too hard to share something. ]

... I can't say I'm a fan of this, but what choice do I have? Just... let me know if you change your mind. [ He's here?? That's all it means.

He frowns before going back to the wall. ]

Should I start by saying hi?

[dominioned]

[ He laughs lightly, so this may be a start. Or this may be something who knows what's even happening anymore. ]

A curious choice of words. That is what I was thinking of, as it were. "Changing my mind."

[bawcock]

[ He does not, in fact, start by saying hi. Apparently they're not restarting anything? He's kind of surprised to hear that he accidentally hit the nail on the head.

That's not what he meant at all but, uh, sure? Why not. ]

What brought this on?

[dominioned]

[ That happens a lot between them, apparently. ]

Several things. [ A shrug of his shoulders as he approaches the never to be named art piece. Pressing a gloved finger on the bird's "head", the metal depresses as easily as dough. ]

Have you ever known you don't like something, but decided to give it a second chance?

[bawcock]

[ This sounds like a relatively normal question for something that must have a lot of weight behind it. It's over his paygrade here but, uh, if Rembrandt's this torn up over something, he'll do his best to listen and give advice.

Thankfully, that last bit's not all that different from what he did with the Luminary. ]

Well, yeah. [ You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn't, not that he'll say that given the circumstances. ] It does depend on what it is. There are some things I wouldn't want to experience twice no matter what it cost me. Sometimes, though...

Sometimes it's hard not to give someone or something a second chance.

[dominioned]

I don't really want to go into the specifics, but it's not something as dire as say—deciding to wrestle a bear for a second time, or anything as sincere as forgiving someone. I can't say I can empathize with either of those scenarios, particularly the latter.

In a general sense, I would account it to...taste, really. [ The time has come for yolos, there's no going back. ]

[bawcock]

[ He'd find wrestling bears way weirder if Jade and Rab didn't fistfight giant monsters all the time, ngl. The empathy comment is strange, but not everyone is forgiving, so.

He can move past it. ]

That does make things tricky. As much as I want to help you out, the best I can do is listen. [ And Rembrandt doesn't want to explain too much, making listening hard. Maybe they can try something else? He gazes at the sculpture and brushes his fingers above the dent.

Hmm... ] Which way are your tastes leaning?

[dominioned]

[ Strumming his fingers over his lips. ]

In the direction they used to, despite the...disappointment that was last time. [ It's vague af, but it seems at least here, he's pretty serious. ]

[bawcock]

[ Sure does! And he's taking this seriously. There's no point in assuming too much either given this conversation could be about anything.

What to say here? Mostly, it sounds like Rembrandt's trying to avoid regretting something and spare himself some hurt. Erik gives the metal a firm press before pulling his hand back. ] That's a start.

If it were me and I was that torn up about it, I think I'd start by asking myself if the last time was worth it. And then, I'd try to figure out why things might be different this time—or how I could make it turn out differently.

[dominioned]

[ With all that's left unsaid, it takes him a while for him to respond. In the end, he does smile between his fingers. ]

Ah, you forgot an option. I could just make to cut my losses.

[bawcock]

[ Erik waits through the silence with little to do but stare at the sculpture and occasionally glance at Rembrandt. The way he sees it, the guy is working through something and the quiet will do him some good.

But that answer surprises him. Awkwardly, he rubs his neck. ]

Scampering off instead of making a decision, huh? I won't say I've never done it, so maybe I'm not the right guy to talk you out of it. [ As light-hearted as he's trying to seem, there's a hint of sadness to his tone. ]

All I can say is... once you decide what you want, don't look back.

[dominioned]

{ Have you missed his inappropriately timed laughter? Cause here it is again. It's short and not as mirth filled as last time, but the amusement is plain and true. ]

Dear me, no that's not what I meant at all. I have always taken what is owed to me, always. No, what I was wondering was simply this: it is one thing to fulfill a duty, and another to succeed at it.

[ And he might have been done speaking in any other circumstance, but he quiets a bit and adds. ]

Oh, I know.

[bawcock]

[ This sure is a thing that's happening. He didn't quite miss the laughter, but it might mean Rembrandt is feeling better. That's good, right? Maybe. And as uneasy as it is, he does smile. Unfortunately, this... really does seem like it's about the Lady. That makes advising him that much harder given his obvious biases here.

His smile fades and thinks for a few minutes. Eventually, he nods at that quiet "I know" and takes a few steps away from Rembrandt, crosses his arms, and looks around the room. ]

In other words, what matters here isn't the ending. It's what you do along the way.

[dominioned]

It isn't the ending, but that doesn't mean it can't be. [ So yes, they're in agreement. He had gone back to gazing at some of the pieces on the wall, but had turned to look at Erik as soon as he spoke. ]

[bawcock]

[ Not the ending? He... doesn't completely get that, though he does understand some of the rest of this. He thinks for a bit longer before turning on his heel to look at Rembrandt. ]

I guess whether it is or isn't doesn't matter too much for you. The bottom line is, you get the same thing either way. [ That might be why he's having a hard time. ]

[dominioned]

I do. [ Like before those two words hang heavy, all but bolded even in spoken form. ]

But this is a matter of my aesthetic and principles. And how much I feel like getting my hands dirty.

[bawcock]

[ ... man, this is a wild problem. ]

I'm half-tempted to ask if you want me to decide for you. Only... if it's like that, it might not be my place. [ If Rembrandt ends up unhappy with his pick, it isn't worth it. ]

How about this? You're not the only one involved in whatever this duty of yours is, right? Someone else is, too. So, what about them? How much do they deserve from you?

[dominioned]

Now that would be truly, utterly, ridiculous. [ Harsh, but it's not as much as it could be considering there's an amused undertone. ]

The terms of our contract are very clear. There is no "deserving" or "undeserving" and putting emotion into such things is such a foolishly human problem. But— [ He flexes his left hand, holding it up to the light for what little it does while being gloved as always. ]

I could decide to really play, if I wanted.

[bawcock]

[ He doesn't respond to the first part. Honestly, he agrees. Whatever's going on between Rembrandt and the Lady is so far beyond him that he doesn't even know where to start. As objective as he'd wanna be about it, he isn't sure he could manage.

But something about what Rembrandt just said—it stings. He never expected a fair shake from the start, not here or anywhere else. So why is he being told how emotional or "foolishly human" the concept of "getting what you deserve" is? Frustrated, he stalks up to Rembrandt and tries to reach his hand up to cover his. And... fails.

Tall bastard. With a frown, he pulls his hand back and crosses his arms. ] Did you ever think that might be your problem? All this back and forth is you sitting on the fence, trying to convince yourself what you should or shouldn't do. When that doesn't work, you try to tell yourself there's a loophole to exploit! If you do as little as possible, then you're still fulfilling your duty. Except you can't accept that either!

The truth is, you don't want to play—and you stubbornly think not "wanting" to isn't a good enough reason!

[dominioned]

[ His head had turned toward Erik when he approached, and even though he realized partway what the other was trying to do, he hadn't moved his hand down. An uncomfortable beat of silence follows the complaints, Rembrandt as still as one of the many statues in the museums halls.

Then it gets dark, the candles he had placed nearby (decidedly not for ambiance) flickering wildly. In the not quite darkness, his eyes are bright red. ]

There's always a loophole, I don't make my contracts without them. [ He lets his hand fall then, finally. ]

I told you I was greedy. [ It's likely not the acknowledgement Erik is searching for, but it's not a rebuke either. ]

[bawcock]

[ He has enough common sense to know he's in danger. His heart races, he glances around, but he doesn't want to back down. Come hell or high water, he'll stand by what he said. ]

That's even worse, Rembrandt.

[ And greedy doesn't begin to cover it. ]

[dominioned]

Hmm... [ The musing isn't idle; they've spoken enough for Erik to know when his interjections are simply there for manners sake or when they're a shade more genuine. ]

A thief will steal and a devil will devour. But that's never been enough to satisfy me. [ If Erik is standing his ground than Rembrandt is doing just the opposite, maneuvering around easily in the dim light to stand in front of the sculpture from before. He takes it in one hand, folding it easily until its shape is perfectly uniform. ]

Very well then, I shall play~.

[bawcock]

You hate being told what to do that much.

[ He sighs. ] I never expected you to do anything else, but this still feels lousy. Are we done here?

[dominioned]

I don't hate it. [ He laughs lightly. ]

If I hated it, I would have stayed the course I was on for hundreds of years. But tell me, what do you expect me to do? Or is it that you've not yet realized what exactly you've done?

[ Because he certainly isn't feeling conflicted anymore. ]

[bawcock]

[ Rembrandt's having such a good time and Erik is not. He pushes his hands through his hair again, since this seems to be the only way he can show his anxiety. ]

From here? Honestly, I've got no clue where you're planning to take this. The only thing I know now is whatever it is, it's bad for me and everybody else here. [ Hence, feeling lousy. He turned his one friend here into an enemy. Feels bad, bro. ]