Scene #8722:

Owner	Pose
Hibiki Tachibana	It's not too strange that Hibiki would contact Father Berislav and make a simple request to talk in person, all things considered - they might've had a bit of tension during the tail end of all the mess with the Infinity Train, but in the meeting not all that long ago, they were of the same mind about a certain something important. Petra. It'd be wholly understandable to assume this would be some sort of work call to follow up on that. Although 'work', as it is, isn't exactly what got her going out of her way to arrange this, this time around. It might come but, but it's more just that he's one of a very small handful of people she feels like she could potentially talk to about this straight. The location she's asked him to meet her at is nowhere special; knowing how he tends to make his timely entrances, Hibiki is a decent way out from the nearest city to here, seated at the edge of a high cliff overlooking snow-coated forests and gently rolling hills painted in a layer of white. It's scenic, quiet, and has a somewhat lonely feeling in its absence of others and the post-Christmas wind-down. A natural conservation area, untouched and unblemished. These are the kind of places where she's traditionally liked trying to get her thoughts together, compared to a Watchhouse or otherwise. How successful she is at that is another story. In full winterwear, from knitted sweater to coat to earmuffs and all, she's tending what looks to be a lot less a 'camp' and more of just a little spot fabricated to idle at for some time. A couple of fairly comfortable folding chairs, a fire going on-- and it looks like she's working on some kind of hot chocolate while she's here. It's comfy. ...Or it would be, if it weren't for the shadow cast over her face, or the furrowed brow she has. Even when Berislav makes his appearance one way or another, she doesn't glance up right away. "...Hey," she starts. "Thanks a lot for coming. I know it's a little out of the way, but I was already here. Maybe I should have came to you instead, but." And a pause. Maybe like she's fishing for words. "...You have an alright holiday?"
Father Berislav	Gleaming silver isn't hard to miss in a field of white. The same can especially be said of vivid scarlet. But the signs of Isaiah's passing are seen before the mech itself--a flock of startled grouse taking to the skies from their roosts in the snow-capped trees. Every step shakes heavy cloaks of snow from burdened branches, the trees trembling as would reeds in the wind. When the war machine's relaxed pace carries it over a hill and places it within Hibiki's view, its vertically oriented red optics sweep uncannily upwards at her. Isaiah's hammer-shaped head rises over the lip of the cliff, looking like a mechanical giant having just discovered its quarry. The light of Hibiki's fire dances ever more across its hull as it approaches, until, coming to a stop, its skeletal hand gently deposits the priest atop the cliff. Berislav wears his usual cassock, plus a pair of warm-looking black knit gloves. "Hello, Hibiki," he says, returning her greeting with a pleasant smile. "I did. I held a lovely midnight mass with a small congregation pulled together from a few different worlds. I also wrote my parents, and managed to get in some sightseeing before services began." He takes a seat in the available chair, holding his hands out to the fire and enjoying the warmth. "How about yourself?"
Hibiki Tachibana	"Glad to hear it." Hibiki sounds like she means it, even though the look on her face doesn't change terribly much. Maybe some subtle shifts here and there, while carefully and evenly heating up the pan she's holding - judging from the look and the smell in the air, she's already added in the chocolate and is letting it simmer. "I spent mine with Miku. Uh...someone important to me," she adds on. "I've been worrying her a lot lately, so I tried to make sure we just enjoyed it without any worries. She went back to visit her family for the holidays after, same as every year, but she'll be back for New Years." She doesn't mention anything about her own post-Christmas plans, for whatever reason. Rather, she seems like she's once again working out how to say something. So I expect you, Tachibana, to do some introspection on why it is that the only way you know how to interact with people is by getting angry or not at all. Before the attempt at being leveled out more or less crumbles away, in a heavy sigh tinged with a mix of emotions. Most of them negative, although at who is up for debate. "This is about-- ...it's about Meika." That gets to hang in the air for a long moment, before Hibiki finally turns her head up to look straight at him. But it's not his own recent meeting with her that she brings up at all. "I don't /get her/ at all. I feel like I should, but I can't! Every time I talk with her, it's felt like I'm coming out of it just feeling worse! Because she called me a fake, or because it feels like she's saying I didn't try hard enough, or because she's /digging around in my damn head/ just to get under my skin!" "And Petra-- don't even get me started on those two hanging out together! It feels like for the /second/ time, she's gonna ruin something I care about and I can't do anything about it!" After spilling all that out without any particular warning, silence hangs in the air for a brief time, with Hibiki's eyes wide... until the sound of the milk she's warming sizzling hits her, and she glances down to quickly pull it back and even it out. "Ah--" Getting snapped back to reality like that seems to have her outburst take a downswing, gaze falling. "...But I still feel crappy over everything on the radio a few days ago. I don't know if you even heard about it. I was pissed at her and got on her case because I didn't want her messing with me again, and I don't even feel any better for it." Pursing her lips, Hibiki reaches down into a backpack and produces a whisk, to get to work finalizing the drink-to-be. "I don't get her at all, but I feel like I should," she murmurs, repeating herself more quietly than before. "And I guess I figured you'd be one of the only people who'd kind of... get it, sort of. That I could talk to. And plus, the whole..." She takes a hand off the whisk for a second to vaguely gesture at the priest's cassock. And after a moment, "...Sorry about all this. I probably sound like a kid who doesn't even know what she's trying to say..."
Father Berislav	"That sounds wonderful," says Berislav, of Hibiki's spending time with Miku. "I'm sure she really appreciated being able to spend time with you in that way--and the extra care taken to think of her feelings." If he notices that she searches for words, he doesn't allow that to translate into any sort of expectant or impatient look. Instead, he just maintains his disarming, gentle smile, enjoying the warmth of the fire as it penetrates his bones and kisses his face. "I see," says the priest, glancing briefly towards Hibiki, when she explains the reason for inviting him out here. He listens, nodding along, letting her express her frustrations without interrupting. When she finishes, with her apology, Berislav shakes his head. "There's no need to apologize, Hibiki," he gently reassures. "It's often difficult to express frustrating and confusing emotions like that." "I suppose that, first of all," he says, silver eyes fixed on her despite the smell of the chocolate, "I'd like to ask why you feel like you should understand her. To be clear, it isn't a bad thing to feel that way--but it may help you towards understanding her, if you feel out what commonalities you think you have." The priest pulls his hands away from the fire and rests them in his lap. "If you were looking for that commonality between she and I, well..." Berislav chuckles, and shakes his head. "I'm afraid our respective interpretations of the faith, of identity, of care, truth, and love, are quite different. I chastised her for using reactionary rhetoric to harm and shame Rita, during an operation." He frowns, and sighs. "I thought it might do some good to take her aside and explain why it wasn't acceptable--but she held to the very same principles she apparently did with you. Talk of 'giving up' and 'betraying.'" The priest's brows raise slightly as he asks, "You mentioned that she 'digs around in your head?' I admit I didn't know she could--unless you're speaking figuratively." He shrugs his shoulders lightly.
Hibiki Tachibana	"...Meika said that, huh?" Hibiki exhales in response to the mention of Rita, with no small amount of frustration in her tone as she whisks away. It bleeds through into the physical motion a bit. "Rita's never given up or betrayed anything in her life. If anything, I wish I could be as strong as she is, dealing with what she has to..." She lingers on that for a moment, then shakes her head. "I don't really know /what/ she can do, exactly. That's not really the part that gets to me, either. It's not like I'm not used to people who know what I'm thinking. There's Persephone, who we still gotta talk to. And there's L--" Hibiki starts, then stops. Having stirred up the chocolate mix more than she intended, she sets the whisk aside on the armrest of her scrunkly little chair and reaches down to find one of the cups she brought along. It's one of those ceramic ones - winter-themed and all, with a snowflake theming. "...I'm just pissed she'd throw my own thoughts back at me just to screw with me. Things I didn't want to say out loud for a reason. Like I'm in the wrong for thinking them!" Hibiki pauses while slowly pouring some of the steaming mixture into the container. "I dunno. ...Everyone's always saying what you do is more important than what you think or say. But maybe I am. And maybe I should have just went straight to her instead of making it a whole thing. 'She butted into my privacy first' sounds way crappier out loud than in my head, doesn't it? Not that that means she shouldn't have in the first place," she adds bitterly and tiredly. She's apparently still in said head enough that she almost overfills the cup, but catches herself and opts to hold the mug out towards Berislav, shifting her glance to the side. "...When I first... got my powers, I guess. I was all alone and didn't have anyone. No one to help me, no one to cover for me, and I didn't want anything to do with anyone. I only wanted to fight monsters, and eventually die like one, too." "And I guess... hearing about her and her sister always working so hard, how things were before she joined the Refulgence... always feeling like there's a sense of distance between her and everyone else, even with her own sibling... and a bunch of stuff that happened with one of the Magical Girls from Lobotomy Corporation. I thought, 'I want to be friends with her - I want things to be easier for her'." Her free hand digs into the hem of her coat, unfiltered irritation seeping back into her voice and her expression. "As if. It's all screwed up now, like it's ended up with a half dozen other people I care about. The problem's got to be with me, right? I don't know how to fix a damn thing, even with someone I feel like I /should/ know how to talk to, and every time I open my mouth around her it just gets worse and worse!" Her voice raises loud enough to echo at the end, which she seems to realize - going to pour a second mug with pursed lips. "...Are there some people I just can't ever get? Or am /I/ just not trying hard enough? I thought that with Petra, and then..."
Father Berislav	I wish I could be as strong as she is. For the second time in a few days, Berislav thinks of a passage in Corinthians. It had come up during the mission with the whale, too--about burdens, and God never giving someone more than they can carry. He frowns--believing it, still, but knowing all the same that few who are 'strong' in the way that Rita is truly want to be. A kinder world wouldn't ask that of her. Everyone's always saying what you do is more important than what you think or say. "That's because it's true. Partially, at least," he says, as she offers him the near-runneth-over cup. "Thank you," he says, smiling graciously and taking a sip. "It's delightful for weather like this, isn't it? Ah, but, please, continue. I didn't mean to interrupt." I thought, I want to be friends with her. I want things to be easier for her. The priest nods, both hands on his mug. His frown is here sympathetic, understanding--in the way that maybe he's felt the very same impulse. "There very well may be some people that you'll never 'get,'" says Berislav. "And it's very difficult to internalize that. Even now, with years of experience giving pastoral care, I still make the mistake of indulging that impulse. I may well have done it with Meika." He pauses, and takes another chaste sip. "Mm. More to the point, people may not ever change, no matter how much care you show them. For as much as I think Liza is ignoring the beam in her eye when she points at the splinter in ours, vis-a-vis 'mythologizing Petra,' she's not at all wrong to point out the patterns of behavior she exhibits." "What you should ask yourself is not whether you 'get' someone, because even a mind reader like the infamous Ms. Kore must surely be surprised now and again. Rather..." Berislav leans forward in his chair. "You should ask whether you're prepared for the unflattering, laborious drudgery of supporting them. People who inspire that urge to help--for whom things are very difficult--tend to need concrete things, and you may not be able to provide exactly what they need. It may be that the most you can do is small gestures, and that trying to 'get' them only makes things worse, like stumbling in the dark." "And," says the priest, his thoughts turning to Petra, "For as many moments like this that you share with those people," he says, his silver eyes flicking up to the sky, one hand gesturing broadly to the serenity of the snowy forest, "Moments of openness and trust and relative calm--there may be just as many, or more, where they show you the worst parts of themselves. What you're wanting to do is good and right in the eyes of the Lord--but it is exhausting, and messy, and depends just as much on their willingness to change." "The saving grace," says the priest, looking back down, at Hibiki, "Is that it's much easier for someone her age to change than for someone as old as myself. I only hope that she hasn't internalized the same thoughts you mentioned struggling with in your earlier days--about dying like a monster, willingly or otherwise."
Hibiki Tachibana	There very well may be some people that you'll never 'get,' "That /is/ hard to make stick in my head..." Hibiki murmurs to Berislav, not sounding wholly sure. Still, even now, it's difficult to shake off her own mistakes, her own did-and-did-nots, the lingering feeling of simply not having done enough-- even when she knows it's all a lot more than just her. It's the people may not ever change that makes her look like she wants to find a way to debate it yet comes up short. She finishes pouring her own cup, setting what remains aside while taking it up with both hands. A few idle blows on the surface help cool it down, as does the chilly air. You should ask whether you're prepared for the unflattering, laborious drudgery of supporting them. "...Tamamo told me something like that once too," she says tiredly, eyes set on the rippling surface of her drink. "Perform your deeds without expectation of praise or reward. And even when there's still only distrust, do it again and again...and again. A long road of suffering you do to yourself, that might not ever even pay off, but you shouldn't complain about." There's a slow, audible sip. "...I'm still working on the last part." A moment passes. "No. Most of it." It may be that the most you can do is small gestures... Her thoughts go back to the infamous karaoke trip with Petra, so long ago and still held over her. Was her mistake using it to try and understand more about her, or was it doing it at all? Then they flash to Lilian--who among countless other things, was correct that she received none of those 'small gestures' even when she needed them the most. She didn't have an excuse. Moments of openness and trust and relative calm--there may be just as many, or more, where they show you the worst parts of themselves. And again, to Meika. The night they went on watch together is clear as day in her head - as is the sight of her exiting the meeting room. Her eyes, still half-lidded with undirected frustration, finally shut completely. "You don't look that old to me, you know. You make it sound like you're set in your ways for good, even when you were talking about how Petra of all people still has her whole life ahead of her. Kinda ridiculous, isn't it?" Her tone doesn't imply she thinks so. "...Back when we had that disagreement about Lance, I wasn't sure what to think about you, honestly," Hibiki continues after another sip. "I have to believe people deserve as many chances as it takes. That it's never too late to change. If I didn't, I wouldn't be in the Watch, or here at all. ...But that way of thinking is also part of why everything with Petra got as bad as it did. I still don't know where the line is. But..." She tilts her head up now, matching the earlier glance to the sky. "...A lot of small gestures, and a will for things to be different on their part too. You think that can work, even when everything's a giant mess?"
Father Berislav	Berislav is nearly done with his cup, by the time Hibiki finishes hers. He holds it just to have a measure of its warmth, itself a shade of what the fire is making. He can just barely feel it, through the wool of his gloves. "Tamamo is very wise, when it comes to matters of the heart," he says, nodding once. You don't look that old to me, you know. With cheeks rosy from the battle between wintry cold and a well made fire, and eyes full of sudden amusement, Berislav laughs softly. "That's very kind of you to say, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't take pride in presenting and caring for the clay that God gave me. What I meant," he says, still smiling warmly, "Is that I'm in my thirties. I've had more time to be the person I want to be, and less reason to move away from that." He pauses, finishes his cocoa, and sets the mug gingerly aside, sitting up straight and inclining his head towards her in a gentle request to continue. I still don't know where the line is. But... a lot of small gestures, and a will got things to be different on their part too. You think that can work, even when everything's a giant mess? "The differences between Lance and Petra or Meika are.. many, but chief among them is that Lance had unchecked institutional power to act on and reinforce his worst nature. My mission in life is to be that," he says, pointing at the edge of the cliff. "For people who have had the time to become their own people--grown people, who wield systemic power like a sword. For those people, I'm the end of the line. An ultimatum, to -force- a change of course, or else find oneself plummeting." "The very worst of what Petra and Meika have done and said pales in comparison to people like that--like Lance. The least harmful neoliberal politicians, merchant princes and architects of the prison industrial complex receive an endless, unspoken tide of second chances, from people who either don't know better, benefit from their abuse, or are too beaten down to imagine anything better." Berislav pauses, lowering his hand and returning it to his lap. "Neither Meika nor Petra are in the same league as those people, in either the harm they are capable of, or the harms they commit. So... yes, I believe it can work. But you have to stop looking at it as 'chances,' and be willing to hold them accountable, rather than pardon them. And that is difficult, even for me."
Hibiki Tachibana	As Hibiki's cup goes empty itself, she sets it down onto her lap, following Berislav's gesture off towards the cliff. When he was elaborating on his solidifying of who he is, she was listening intently. At the discussion of the differences between three troublesome individuals however, she sits up a little straighter and gives the man of the cloth her attention. The look on her face is a little inscrutiable, and she doesn't interrupt him until he's done. It seems like she's taking some time to process his line of thinking towards all of that, ending in her glancing down into the now-empty depths of her drink, where some thicker dregs of melted chocolate still sit. "Politicians, merchants, prison keepers and all that stuff when it comes to society..." "...I don't get it at all," she admits openly. "Maybe my head isn't wired that way. They're problems too big for just my hands to wrap around, either. I can't see all the ways more people than I can count get affected by all of that. I can't see what makes one way of hurting better or worse than another. I just-- want all of it to stop. And if someone ends up regretting their decisions, or screwed up and wants to try again... I have to believe they'll start working to make up for what they did and mean it. Even if no one else will." Pause. And her eyes fall to the side. "...It all sounds dramatic and resolute if I put it in a speech, but it's just how I feel. I don't think you ever become too old to make mistakes you can't regret later. Or that you ever are a hundred percent 'the person you want to be'. Maybe some people just can't be helped. But I'm in the Watch because I wanted to help as many people as possible. Not just some people. That's what I forgot." And another pause, before she looks back at Berislav. From her eyes to the slight smile, the first one she's had all day, it's emotional exhaustion the whole way down - but she still means it. "I guess that's something we might not ever entirely agree on, Berislav. And everyone in the Watch having their own idea on how things should be done is just kind of how it is, isn't it? But we can still come together to face the same things together, when it really matters. ...Well, most of us. That's one thing I always really liked about it," she finishes in an undeniably bittersweet tone. "...Don't worry. I'm trying to work on the 'accountable' thing. For myself, too." That sounds like it could be a joke at her own expense, but it's serious. She exhales after. "And if I mess that up again, I'll probably be second on Liza's chopping block." Another moment of quiet. And then, Hibiki breathes in, and pours the remainder of the hot chocolate into her cup. "...Okay. I think I might know what to do about Meika now. Or at least-- try to do. I'm never gonna agree Petra hasn't done a whole lot of harm to a lot of people, but..." Even when the pan is emptied out, she holds the position for a few moments, just staring at the leftover dribbles. "...Thanks. Having another perspective on things... helped."
Father Berislav	Berislav finds himself holding his hands before the fire again, now that there's no warm cup of cocoa to hold. ...Thanks. Having another perspective on things... helped. Hibiki will find that when she turns to look back at him, Berislav is smiling, too. "I'm glad to hear that, Hibiki." He stands up and stretches, still basking in the warmth. "I think that discussions of systemic harm is a talk for another day. Suffice it to say that despite our differences, I trust that you've only ever wanted to nurture goodness in the world, and no matter what happens, you will always have my respect for that." Silence might reign, for a few seconds, but for the crackling of the fire. "As for Petra... I intend to speak with her and press her for information about this mech of hers. I'll be in contact with you regarding my findings. And, of course, I'll be waiting on the same from you, about this meeting with Persephone." He pauses, then chuckles. "It almost seems like a rite of Multiversal passage, doesn't it? If only it were under less dire circumstances." The priest sighs. "I suppose I should be going, but I'm truly heartened that this was helpful for you. Merry Christmas, Hibiki."