He who knows true fear; and thread for all current recollections of rp

[roleplaysbyjake]

It happened this morning. He knew he'd awoken too early, and had been unable to return to sleep. He knew then.. that he had been so very wrong and that something would go wrong. He just did not expect it to be this, of all things.

First, he spotted Aztor out in the halls, and consequently, around the same time -- Rosaeria... The threatening hulk of a figure that was the Orog in armor was hunched against the wall. He approached the man with an intent of mischief. It was morning and he was slightly groggy still.

"Greetings.." He said to the Orog and the conversation sort of went.. typically. "May I ask what your purpose in life is..?" The conversation with Lorelei weighed heavy on his mind so he'd made up his mind to ask everyone this until he saw Lorelei again. This was just the way he was, of course, he obsessed over words and took everything as if it were an opportunity to glean the information out of everyone else he knew.

After a stare of incredulousness emanating from beneath the helmet, the Orog watched him. "Listen, Blondie," He said something like that. "I got a deal with some drowesses in exchange for living so right now, it's not my decision what my will is..."

Hart seemed curious. "What happened..?""

"I got killed and given a second chance at life is what."

"Sounds like a raw deal..." Hart responded, with just a touch of smugness. "I remember one of them tried something like that on me too.."

Then it was the time when Rosaeria happened to approach them. They said their greetings, though, from his memory, Aztor was rather gruff and Hart could surely understand that they were in a bad mood.

"Rosaeria..." started Hart. "What is your purpose in life..?"

Rosaeria did not seem too puzzled by that statement, and Hart leant in closer, suddenly rather focused on that conversation.

"To serve..." she said. "I am a maid after all... I like to serve."

Aztor of course, ended up interjecting, asking Rosaeria something or other about her name and if she was selling herself.

Hart, however, was now sighing. "I was afraid that would be the answer," he stated.

Rosaeria looked at him, and stuttered in certain parts of her sentence in that delicate way that people with stammers would do. "I am sorry for upsetting you, sir," she said.

He continued calmly, musing on the idea.. "It's just a rather typical and simple response to say," he pointed out. "Is there not something more complex due to the nature of your personality?"

Rosaeria paused, and gulped. There was an awkward pause and Hart could imagine her gaze shifting from left to right. "No.. there isn't... But I'm just a servant. I'm not big and strong like you..."

He wanted to smile a bit grimly when she said that, though her gaze seemed to slide over to Aztor.

"I don't know what you're both going on about," said the Orog gruffly once more. "Listen.. There's no need for purpose in life.. You just live and die, got it?"

"But sir, don't you have something you like...?" asked Rosearia.

Aztor paused for a moment. "Sculpting," he answered, seeming to think hard on that subject.

"And if you weren't here.. wouldn't people be sad that they can't see your sculptures anymore?"

"And who cares..?" Asked Aztor.

Hart listened to the best of his abilities but he was lost in thought at that point.. Eventually, Aztor ended up telling Rosearia to 'Pike off'. Hart lingered for a bit, but he was soon headed off himself. He had a one track mind, and made up some excuse he didn't remember, eventually tracking down the girl who was sitting right out doors from the banker's exit. She sat in the huge fountain outside, right near the entrance of the wailing banshee.

"Aztor seemed to have kicked you pretty far off," he jested slightly. The girl seemed startled, sensing that he had creeped up on her. It was then revealed that in her hand, was a book, and that immediately caught Hart's attention, as he happened to be a lover of reading. "What are you reading..?" He asked.

She hid the book behind herself, but eventually thought better of it and held it up against her chest. The book was clearly suspicious, bound in black, emanating a dark sickly sort of negative energy. That which Hart worked with himself -- so often that he could sense it a bit as if it had a different feeling then the light that bounced off his skin. "May I examine it..?" He asked finally, holding out his hand. The book felt rather light upon his fingers, as he suddenly became immersed in the subjects.. That which he briefly skimmed through but still managed to take in key words that gave him a good idea of what it was about.

Mind control magic, it seemed to be, and ways to use it to bend others to their will, as a matter of fact.

He shut the book and handed it back to her, a frown lingering on his expression. "Are you interested in this subject..?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No sir... Not quite."

"Then are you interested in others using it against you.. or the other way around?" The question came out of him..

She shook her head, looking somewhat frustrated, or perhaps it was his imagination as she had been an abundance of patience up until then. "No.. sir. If you would like, I can show you."

He nodded, immediately. "Show me," he said. To hell with the consequences, if she tried any kind of magic on him it'd be her that'd be blown to bits and pieces in the end.

She nodded and started to remove her glasses. It was then that the daze in her eyes left. The blue tint that had been over her irises faded, the hue darkening. The beginnings of the change was felt, as the energy around her surged and the animosity levels of her aura had risen. She gave a smirk in his direction, but he could imagine then that she had sharper teeth, as if they were suddenly that of a caged shark, hovering nearby and only separated by a glass cage of an aquarium. "And here I am.." She said. She had hung her glasses upon the front of her dress, pinning it neatly to her chest.

"And who are you now...?" He asked. Her stance had shifted to perch on her hip, in a classic pose that suggested confidence. He could hardly believe that this was the same person, as a matter of fact.

"I am the same person..." she simply stated. "It just happens when someone screws with your mind."

He smirked. "Interesting..." He said. In that point, he may have circled her, and studied her entire posture had it not have lead him to bump directly into that bench. So he simply remained in place. A dark smile formed upon his lips, something that hinted at the darker turn of the conversation. "So a split personality, but not -- " He started, lingering to pause dramatically, but there was no shortage of seriousness in his tone. "Kind of like someone who is pretending to be nice. But I have a feeling it actually has something to do with those glasses."

"Smart.." she said.

He shook his head. "Do not make the mistake of thinking I'm such," he said, harsher than he'd expected to sound. "It was obvious.. and besides, I have some experience."

"Experience...?" She asked. "So you're someone who does that to people...?"

It was now, for some reason, an inexplicable urge inside him to explain, and his smile widened, curling up in an almost derisive snarl, with smugness dripping at the edge of his every word. "Me? No..." He stated. "I prefer consent. If they'd really wanted such an opportunity, they'd beg for such a chance, and it just so happens that most people who engage in mind-control do not."

She paused for a moment, as if considering his words. "Well then... someone who wants to be like this, with their mind split in two must be nuts. Do they truly understand what it's like?"

"None of us in the Underdark are quite sane," He responded, sounding impatient. "I must ask you if you can put back your glasses on." His tone became cold as ice, and as she obliged and unfolded it -- readying to slip it upon her face, another burst of his animosity happened.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" He asked. "It's like someone messed up your mind beyond repair and now it's like a scar -- and you can't even let it go..."

Had she not slipped on her glasses in time, he was not sure what she would have said, but the response was soon contained, fogged up, magicked away just like that. Her expression became muted, dazed and she tilted her head in confusion.. "Sorry, sir...?" She stammered.

But the damage had been done. Slowly, his own anger had seeped into the back of his mind and it spread like a toxic poison. The desire to hurt, the beast inside him too had slipped away.

He smiled. "I simply meant to ask..." he stated. "If you were feeling all right." It was not what was actually said, but the general meaning had been such.

She left.. and he thought nothing of it as he returned back to the hub. And then later on that night, after he'd asked everyone else the same question, he only ended up more confused...

"You must change," Lorelei had said only a day ago. "You will end up disappointing him if you do not.."

And as he sat up in his bed, he drew his knees to his chest, and ducked his head to hide his expression, a feeble position as he thought to himself. He simply panicked.

What is wrong with me? Why did I say that..? What am I doing here?