[The Grand Theatre feels different when stripped of fanfare and cries of murder. It's solemn, almost comfortable in its silence, the trial that occurred here earlier notwithstanding.
It would be cruel to call what took place here justice, and just as cruel to dismiss it as theater. Nishi can hardly argue otherwise, not after the scene he caused— an inadvertent dismissal of Lavi's trial.
Lavi had been a good man, though haunted. Perhaps death offers him solace. Perhaps not. Either way, Nishi's thoughts are cut short by the sharp echo of heels striking the empty floor. Hm. That narrows down the list of visitors somewhat...]
[Ah... what a graceful bow. Not the typical greeting, but one Nishi instinctively knows how to answer, returning it with equal measure. She seems to belong here, as grand as the hall itself, though the memory of blood spilled in the name of justice lingers, leaving her beauty out of place in this desolate room.
He rises from his seat in the corner where he'd sat to keep the whole theater in view and steps forward to meet her in the center.]
I only wanted somewhere quiet to think. [...] Not that your presence is any disruption. You have as much right to be here as I do.
Still... I can't help but feel this place is stained by what occurred earlier. It's not quite as grand or beautiful as it was before.
I've always found it surreal. Make such a grand production over us being on stage no matter where we are in this place, and adding another feels unnecessary, like jetsam washing up onto the shoreline.
[The way the Extras run the space, flooding and ebbing from it, and the cycle of shows and films that roll behind the heavy curtain feel, themselves, like a hallucinatory dream.]
Have your thoughts kep you company or brought you any clarity?
[Such grand spaces feel ever so vaguely familiar to Nishi. With what bits of himself he's cobbled together, he can assume he was raised in excess, perhaps brought along to balls and similar events by his mother... but his memory is fuzzy.
At her question, Nishi inclines his head in thought.]
The more I think about it, the less I like this place. It's nonsensical, for one thing, but it's that Father that concerns me. No one willing to rule by force belongs in a position of power.
[And that is effectively what Father is doing. Someone ought to bazooka him.]
Did you ever like it? At the very start, perhaps, before the curtain was pulled?
[The illusion had felt spoiled for her very early.
It's very quiet now that she's drawn still and her heels no longer sound on the floor below.]
Perhaps I agree with you, but with his doctrines, how could he maintain power if not by force?
[Depending on how much her roommate was paying attention, he'll probably remember that she had openly questioned Father's divinity when Sika first greeted them; He's not one that she believes in, and she finds his means of control offensive.]
[He gives her questions a moment of earnest thought. Truthfully...]
...No. I was never meant to be here, for one thing. And for another, I only enjoy plays when I'm in the audience.
[He never cared to play a role himself, though life has pressed him into parts he never chose. In his previous life, too, was he forced to play along? Perhaps it's better he can't recall with certainty.]
Simple: he couldn't.
[To lead without force requires real effort, and effort is the one thing such men seldom spare.]
A weak man rules through fear. Weak men also spend all their time fortifying their walls, so that if anyone does move against them, the pedestal is far harder to topple. Still...
[He fixes Cantarella with a look, the weight of his gaze pressing through the mask, even with his eyes concealed.]
Do you not think there are some among us who would try?
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Week 1: Post-trial
It would be cruel to call what took place here justice, and just as cruel to dismiss it as theater. Nishi can hardly argue otherwise, not after the scene he caused— an inadvertent dismissal of Lavi's trial.
Lavi had been a good man, though haunted. Perhaps death offers him solace. Perhaps not. Either way, Nishi's thoughts are cut short by the sharp echo of heels striking the empty floor. Hm. That narrows down the list of visitors somewhat...]
...Ah. Cantarella. Did you forget something here?
I WAS NOT SASSY!!!!!
[As she drops a very slight bow of greeting, Cantarella shakes her head and crosses further into the theater, until she's nearly at its very center.
It's grisly to come here given the circumstances, but—]
I wanted to see if anything had changed. [And yet, it just feels oddly...the same.] Yourself?
hmm. shall we poll the audience
He rises from his seat in the corner where he'd sat to keep the whole theater in view and steps forward to meet her in the center.]
I only wanted somewhere quiet to think. [...] Not that your presence is any disruption. You have as much right to be here as I do.
Still... I can't help but feel this place is stained by what occurred earlier. It's not quite as grand or beautiful as it was before.
no subject
[The way the Extras run the space, flooding and ebbing from it, and the cycle of shows and films that roll behind the heavy curtain feel, themselves, like a hallucinatory dream.]
Have your thoughts kep you company or brought you any clarity?
no subject
[Such grand spaces feel ever so vaguely familiar to Nishi. With what bits of himself he's cobbled together, he can assume he was raised in excess, perhaps brought along to balls and similar events by his mother... but his memory is fuzzy.
At her question, Nishi inclines his head in thought.]
The more I think about it, the less I like this place. It's nonsensical, for one thing, but it's that Father that concerns me. No one willing to rule by force belongs in a position of power.
[And that is effectively what Father is doing. Someone ought to bazooka him.]
no subject
[The illusion had felt spoiled for her very early.
It's very quiet now that she's drawn still and her heels no longer sound on the floor below.]
Perhaps I agree with you, but with his doctrines, how could he maintain power if not by force?
[Depending on how much her roommate was paying attention, he'll probably remember that she had openly questioned Father's divinity when Sika first greeted them; He's not one that she believes in, and she finds his means of control offensive.]
no subject
...No. I was never meant to be here, for one thing. And for another, I only enjoy plays when I'm in the audience.
[He never cared to play a role himself, though life has pressed him into parts he never chose. In his previous life, too, was he forced to play along? Perhaps it's better he can't recall with certainty.]
Simple: he couldn't.
[To lead without force requires real effort, and effort is the one thing such men seldom spare.]
A weak man rules through fear. Weak men also spend all their time fortifying their walls, so that if anyone does move against them, the pedestal is far harder to topple. Still...
[He fixes Cantarella with a look, the weight of his gaze pressing through the mask, even with his eyes concealed.]
Do you not think there are some among us who would try?