Hello, everyone! after dealing with real life and the other nonsense of living, panny and i have decided to bring back war of change. give a round of applause. we’ve worked through all of the information and hopefully improved coherency and cohesion; however, tell us if we missed something. eventually, we’ll announce an event to celebrate the re-opening, so look out for information on that. -RAIDNE, THE HEAD ADMIN
From the moonless night, screams of terror and fear resound, spreading across the world and infecting the masses; however, those sleepless nights occurred years ago. A new era began with the fires of war, and with no end in sight, the residents of Selene Isle trudge through life, basking in the momentary peace. Despite their prayers for continued monotony and peace, a storm brews, stirred to life by the continued presence of Rapture and Wraith. And as we set our sights on the seemingly peace laden isle, we must ask: how shall this tale end?
As the years passed, the number of true pairs increased; however, they continued to live in the shadows, catering to the whims of the mundane. Seven Moons kept watch over them all, instructing them and assisting them, but for many, the attitudes and ideals of the organization were smoldering, suffocating. With Seven Moons and the mundanes, they could not grasp the freedom, the power dangling before their eyes. In the beginning, rebellion was a dream, a fantasy, a figment—developed by the repressed and carried forward due to the nature of humanity. No one expected the call to sound, and no one expected the call to be answered. However, it happened.
"...Belle." He said it aloud, mostly for himself. To get... used to it. He'd said her name before, of course, but always as 'Belle Faustus' or 'Lady Faustus'. 'Belle' felt so... personal, almost like he was invading her privacy somehow. He was glad to be on first-name basis with her but it would certainly take some getting used to.
"Then..." He reached out towards the folding knives. "Please, Belle, don't apologize." He pulled the balisongs over towards him but didn't pocket them, instead flipping one open artfully, wiping it's blade on a clean cloth he'd kept in his pocket, and then carefully cutting one of the scones open with it.
"It doesn't suit you, the woman who strides large across life's stage and crushes giants beneath her." There was a very faint wry smile on his face after uttering such poetic flattery, like a little kid admitting his feelings to his first crush. He was sincere, if overly dramatic. A pause, then he continued.
"It isn't simply about the name -- your work has always impressed me." He shrugged. "You despise men, that much is plain, but not simply because they are men. That would be no different from hating a color or a sound. Yours... is a work of rebellion, of insurrection, turning the tools used by the powerful against them and forcing them to eat their own sour fruits. You, La-- er, Belle, you're inspired by your justified anger and justified by your inspiration. They believed they could control you because they were used to controlling people they thought were like you, and you turned the tables on them all."
Theo smiled broadly. "And try as they might, they couldn't stop you."
He leaned back a bit. "I can't stand people like that, who have all the power -- who simply take whatever they think this world owes them for no better reason than because they can. In my eyes, that makes you, Belle... marvellous."
"As for my... other name," He paused, looking down at the scone crumbs on his lap. "It's... complicated. I don't call myself that because I'm a fan of yours. I was Mephistopheles much farther back than that." His smile took on a grim undertone, weighed with less pleasant thoughts. "In the... interest of transparency, there are those who don't think I'm mentally sound. My parents, teachers... I would say 'friends' but... well," He shrugged. "You know how it goes when you're different."
"If I understand how being a True Pair works, then if you commanded me to tell you everything I wouldn't have a choice in the matter. You could know every dark secret in my head down to the bottom of the barrel, and have a crystal clear idea as to why I self-identify not as a 'man' or even a 'male', but as something else." He let loose a dry, unhappy laugh. " 'Self-identify'. Well, its close enough of a term, I suppose." He looked up at her with just a touch of sadness. "I wouldn't blame you if you think I'm 'messed up'. Everyone who knows me well enough does, basically. So if anyone asks I just tell them it's my 'professional name'." She would probably catch his meaning in that regard, he guessed.
"You speak a lot." Was the only thing she said for a while after he'd finished. There was a distant look in her eyes, mostly from tire, that let him know she was too exhausted to truly condescend him. "I don't talk to others that much, though I suppose." And she didn't need to. What others had to say was of usually little consequence to her. And with respect, the same went for Theo, Mephisto. At the least, he had interesting views on her work. Especially so for a boy. He looked like he didn't even really understand the world beyond highschool bullying and uptight parents but he had a basic grasp on her concepts.
But how far apart were those things, anyway?
"Look, kid, I hope you realize I'm not exactly about to give you a motivating speech on how to be yourself and how 'we're all crazy'. Not my gig. My gig is to make certain people ashamed of themselves." Finally standing up straight she glared at him in a way that was more about keeping focused. "Apparently I'm good at it. Even more surprising to some is I find it fun." Her eyes seemed to narrow. "But it seems I'm going to have to make a compromise." Her eyes softened again, as much as a woman who wore a pair of sharp eyes as default could.
She paused, thinking over a little more on what she'd heard. It was certainly curious. A professional name, he'd said. "You're too young to be a professional anything. But I suppose that's rich coming from me. Then again you aren't me." Most people weren't, unfortunately. Maybe she did have it in her to be condescending right now. But still, he wasn't everyone else, either. "All I ask is your obedience. Or loyalty, if you prefer. Anything you don't want to tell me is of no importance until I think it might be." Belle came off as harsh but utterly serious.
Simply, she wasn't interested in any sob-story he had to tell. Just interested in what he could offer her, and what of that he was willing to share.
"Sorry," Theo looked at her apologetically. "I don't typically have someone to talk to. Apologies if I ramble at you."
After that, he fell silent for a short while, digesting her meaning while opening the tiny jars and offering her the freshly cut scone on a paper bar napkin. Was the compromise she had mentioned him? If so, he couldn't blame her. He was, after all, born male -- from what he understood and guessed at, it took very little more than that to make someone 'certain people' in Belle's book. At the very least it was a strike against him. And she couldn't have much liked the irony of being paired with a younger male companion, no matter what his characteristics, by their shared Name.
"... To be direct, I'm not so young as I look. Twenty four." He admitted, beginning to cut a scone for himself with the other balisong, leaving the first open for her preference of spreading cream, jam, or both. "You were much younger when you stepped into a far more cut-throat industry." There was an odd blend of admiration and playful retort in Theo's words.
"My loyalty and obedience? You'll have them." He confirmed to her. Maybe it was just because she was tired, but he found it... odd... that she was only requesting what she already had, just by nature of their pairing. He brushed it off, chalking it up to the obscene hour and everything that had precluded it. "In turn, all I ask is that you make good use of me... and give me purpose, whatever that might end up being."
Left this open in case you wanted to go on for a bit, depends on what you think Mephy would do. I'm cool either way, see what we can do elsewhere?
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Listening to him vaguely, she accepted the 'invitation' taking the scone, seeming much more bias towards the cream. By the time she was done, he was too. There was a pause, and Belle made a sound like an amused huff. With a one sided smirk on her face that didn't seem entirely friendly, Belle began to make her way back around to the other side of the bar, switching the main lights off as she went before taking the first bite out of her scone, leaving the coloured glow of the barlights to fill the dark. She didn't say thank you, of course. "You don't look that age." She seemed to scoff. He didn't, and he knew he didn't.
He was right. His pronoun put her off their 'relationship' a lot, even if she was in control. She'd made a tough habit of never working with men if she could help it. But she couldn't help it. This whole situation, or, at least, the elements in it, were not her's to command. Though, she had to admit, the idea of making him her little lap dog was fun. He would serve her, but to what ends, she didn't know. But his existence in relation to her's seemed to twist at her core. This really wasn't...desirable, to say the least.
She repeated from earlier. "I only know how to give purpose to myself. Like I said, I exist to make people disgusted at themselves." Getting to his side, she hovered over him. He really did look like one of her models, his attractiveness was certainly a point she could attest to. Belle's stare seemed one part curious, another part dismissive. She held the stare for a while longer than she thought before snapping herself away. There was something there, under the surface. Now they had met, it was unchangeable. They were a Pair, but not a True one. Whatever closeness they were to form was beyond her. Belle seemed completely uninterested in really getting to know him up front.
Now they had met, their separation, her rejection of her Fighter, would not be in her favour. It was frowned upon, after all. There was, and would continue to be, nothing she could do. She took another bite out of the foodthing, walking away. Before any of this was really setting in, she was leaving. It was abrupt, sudden, rude even. She took, and left, leaving Theo in the almost-dark. It felt unfinished, like she just didn't want it to reach it's end, solidify. It ached in the air. That connection her younger had be reaching too hadn't yet been completely accepted or acknowledged by her fully, and it seemed she planned to leave it that way. "I'll see what I can do. Now get out of here kid. Rapture's still watching you." And she went to turn off the light.
She'd had a long night, to be sure. As he listened to her words and waited under her dismissive stare he, too, wondered at how their 'connection' would play out. He admired her, but she, she seemed to want as little to do with him as possible. Perhaps that would change... but if, in the end, he became merely a tool of convenience for her then he would be content with that. If ever he became an extension of her scorn, of her derision for men and their abhorrent influence... well, in some ways he supposed he was already 'guilty by association' in that regard. Theo wondered, as Belle stared down at him, if his understanding of her anger really changed anything at all -- if, indeed, he actually did. All he had were assumptions unless she told him more... and, if she disdained their partnership sufficiently, that may well never happen. It was a reality he had to accept.
The desire for something, the ability to project it and even imitate it, yet the inability to attain it. Wasn't that... truly glamorous?
Or was he just reaching for meaning where there was none?
And as she turned to leave all his wonderings and uncertainty hovered in her wake. Even her words merely reinforced them -- though her mention of Rapture proved just how perceptive she certainly was. Why would she care to mention it unless she'd deduced, or at least suspected, his "profession"? Even as she dismissed him she impressed him.
Well... wouldn't do to overstay his welcome.
"Thank you, Belle." He rose, pocketing scone and knives alike. He would gather the remnants of their "meal" along with the discarded groceries into a neat pile before he went, just so as to not create more trouble in his wake than was necessary.
There was so much he could have said in that moment. Apologize for not being who and what she would've wanted in a Fighter, for one. Ask to arrange another meeting for second. But he let it go. Now was not the time to press things or try to endear himself to her when she'd clearly had quite enough. She would know enough to assume things like his willingness to come at her call and do whatever she asked, and as a Pair they had no clear goals or purpose yet.
Instead he simply said "Let's have breakfast sometime."
And soon the room was empty. The only sound left was the dripping of orange juice and milk off a table ledge.
