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

[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. ]

[dominioned]

Is it really? [ That's exactly what's going on here, and he snaps his fingers, the darkness evaporating. The red eyes stay, though. ]

Or would you rather just assume after coming all this way?

[bawcock]

[ Blinking at the sudden change in lighting. Uh, did he miss something here? Suddenly, he's a lot less confident and much more confused than before. ]

Isn't it? [ Despite knowing he shouldn't be, he is a little hopeful. When he speaks up again, his voice quieter. ] If I ask, are you really going to tell me?

[dominioned]

I don't like giving away answers, so you'll just have to wait and see. [ For what it's worth, his usual smile is back. ]

There are many lies she's fond of telling, but that is the truth. Your stay here will be over shortly.

[bawcock]

[ There's a sizable pause as he tries to sort his thoughts out. He's... still coming to the same answer as before though. This was about the Lady and her deal, how Rembrandt didn't know how much he wanted to help anymore, and now he... what? Erik assumed he decided to "play," as in, play by her rules and help her. And the only other option is kind of crazy.

After his breather, he's more or less recovered from his shock and takes a step toward Rembrandt. ] Okay, Rembrandt. I don't know if it's trust, or hope, or even naivety, but I want to believe in you.

I won't press any more right now, just... when you can tell me, I want to know what all this was about.

[dominioned]

Humans. [ Shaking his head he shrugs, still wearing that smile of his. Something sure did happen here, but that'll be a discussion for the future. ]

But very well, you have my word. [ For everything he's being, he presses his hand against his chest too. ]

[bawcock]

[ And he sure is being a lot. This... does help. Rembrandt's so serious about everything that he doubts he'd make a gesture like this and not mean it. ]

I'll hold you to it! [ A smile! ] I'd stay and chat some more, but since you've sorted things out I might leave you to your thoughts. When you feel like talking more, you know how to find me.

[dominioned]

My, that would be terribly improper of me to visit you uninvited. [ But good, he deserves to be held to some things! ]

[bawcock]

Since when has anything between us ever been "proper"? [ 'Cause all the lights and whatever that was?? Not proper. Or friendly! ]

[dominioned]

[ Siiiigh, Erik has a point but Rem won't admit it. ]

If I ever find myself seeking company in the evening, I shall visit your room. [ This isn't going to happen, but what almost did happen was "bed" instead of room. ]

[bawcock]

[ your cr is still not high enough to ride this ride ]

And I'll keep inviting myself to do the same. If I take the museum to be your room, that is.

[dominioned]

[ he would be grievously wounded if he actually wanted that and not to troll, but he's being denied in both instances!!! ]

Considering you took upon it yourself to infiltrate the castle, I would not be all that surprised to find you in my actual room.

[bawcock]

[ super denied!! and even if he used "bed" it would've ended in disappointment!!! ]

You might be right if you said that two weeks ago! Or three. Now? Not so much. I'll let you keep your precious room all to yourself and keep my thieving hands out of it.

[dominioned]

I doubt there would be anything of interest to you, I'm not really one to keep personal effects.

[ He tilts his head slightly at the "Not so much" part. ]

[bawcock]

I'd be surprised if you were! [ Hands on his hips! ] Gazing at art seems more up your alley than sentimental keepsakes.

[ Speaking of, what did Rem do to that sculpture? Givin' it a glance. ]

[dominioned]

I prefer playing music to both.

[ It's basically a somehow neatly folded origami box now. Not literally origami but close enough. ]

[bawcock]

[ Rembrandt, what even. He's going to have to step closer to get a better look at this 'cause, why. ]

What kind of music?

[dominioned]

Beethovan, Bach, Saint-Saëns, classical if you're not familiar. [ Kind of like this except more box shaped. And not as smooth given the material, but close enough. ]