Scene #6061: Bad Decisions Over Drinks

Owner	Pose
Empty Tidings	THE HOUSE OF DROWNED LILIES is a teahouse with a questionable reputation in the city of Adorned With Wisdom as a Sapphire (or just Sapphire for short). It isn't that it's a grungy or unsafe place -- far from it, in fact, boasting cleanliness, prompt service, and a lovely time for every visitor that cares to partake of its services. The problem is, some people are pretty sure those services involve unlicensed sorcery and questionable thaumaturgy, so most people just steer clear... which is why it's a terrific place for a meeting. Plus, Tidings owns it. She's made it something of an informal Watch hang-out over the last couple of months. People come and go, never bothered by the uniformly lovely but sometimes somewhat off-putting staff, nor bothered by the other customers, and things simply get done. It's where she's been collecting the odd objects she's requested, even. More than one delivery has crossed the threshold to this very place. Right now, she's sitting in the House and looking at the middle of the place with a thoughtful look. She's wearing a flattering dress in rich red accented with brass baubles, with tiny bells of the same tied into her long black hair in a curving pattern that draws the eye when she moves her head. At the moment, she's seated in a padded, high-backed chair at a table in the back-center of the establishment, another of the same sort unoccupied nearby. A scattering of men sit in shadow around the perimeter of the main room, small golden lanterns alighting their tables and hanging silks obscuring their features and dulling any sound they may be making. A young woman is seated in the shallow, lily pad-strewn pool in the center of the House in voluminous robes, looking like she belongs there. She's playing a stringed instrument August may or may not be able to identify as a guzheng, producing sweet, soothing music. She looks human, save for the fingernails like glittering crystal and the otherworldly, iridescent sheen to her hair.
August Kohler	August arrives about on time, having told Empty Tidings when he'd be there based on traffic. He's wearing one of his nicer jackets instead of a hoodie, with a blue undershirt and a pair of decent jeans. Fancy, atleast when you're 19. He walks briskly, moving towards the table once he's been directed there. August takes a seat across from her, taking a moment to look around and glance at the woman in lily-pad pool before speaking up. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. How have you been?" The general reason behind the meeting was that August both wanted to talk 'advice on a matter we discussed before', which involved killing people, and also on business going forward, presumably about his duties as being in her service. Normally he'd jump straight to that, but... It's always nice to begin with pleasantries, right?
Empty Tidings	August's directions to the place involved catching a boat up a canal and getting off at stairs that lead to the water. Nobody seems to bother him when he pushes through the hanging silk that is the front door. The interior is pleasantly warm, a nice counterpoint to the cool exterior, and smells faintly of foreign spices he can't quite identify. "August," Tidings greets, warmly. She smiles. "I'm always happy to see you. We shouldn't go so long without meeting; I wouldn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you!" Tidings looks him up and down, nodding a little, probably in a slightly approving way. He cleans up nicely. He should probably dress better. Maybe she can find something fire retardant. "Oh, well enough, I suppose. A little stressed after that..." She waves a hand a little, rotating her wrist and rolling her eyes. "...debacle in Boston, but I'll manage. How about you? I don't think we've had a chance to catch up since your Shadow's rather insistent rampage."
August Kohler	August's outfit isn't terrible, it's just very modern and also not really formal. The approval does make him feel good, though. He nods to Tidings, glad she's (mostly) alright, before replying. "Heart's still beating, I think. Been thinking a lot about my philosophy, my ideals, what I want to do and be and how I want to lead. It's been tough." August laughs a little - it's awkward, because he never really let himself laugh genuinely or at himself, never really expressed his real emotions. "Yeah, that was...a hell of a thing. I've been needing to catch up with you, about how to get help with that problem. And also, you know, to know what I have to do next. I pledged service, after all, I got to work to pay you back, right?" August seems genuine, at least. He feels bad for needing Tidings to help him out, after all.
Empty Tidings	"Thinking all of that through can be difficult, especially on your own, and especially if you've never really stopped to take the time to do it before," Tidings says. "But I'm glad that you have the opportunity to do it. I would have hated to see you lose that chance." She's brimming with warmth and comraderie. It's... well, it's not exactly her usual demeanor, but usually she's punching things to death that are upwards of ten or fifteen times her weight and mass. She can be forgiven for being relaxed at a time like this. A nod. "You are already doing just that. At the moment, my priority is to establish that base we've been working on. It's a troublesome task, especially with /some/ people taking the opportunity to quietly slander me in the process --" She rolls her eyes. "-- but I'm sure you'll find what we need. Won't you?" A girl ghosts up to the table and delivers a teapot, a sealed wine bottle, and a pair of cups for each. She's gone before she can even really be examined, flitting away to another table and then to the back of the place again. "You had a problem, though," she notes. "As much as I appreciate the social call, we should perhaps talk about you."
August Kohler	"Yeah." August closes up a little, unsure what to say, but he does not to her as she asks him a question. "Of course. I'm all about this base in the depths of Hell." It's not sarcastic, but a little cheeky, as if he knows how silly what he just said is. Probably trying to lighten his own mood a little, about the not being good at thinking through his philosophy. When the girl brings forth the drinks, August moves to thank her, but she's already gone, so he shrugs. "Yeah. We talked before about how...well, I don't have any experience in killing people. I've killed like one /person/ that I know of, and it was difficult and messy for me. I know it's weird to want to be able to handle that, to shrug that off, but..." He pauses, trying to figure out how best to phrase it. "So in my world, there's Shadows, right? Well, we were fighting in the real world, not the mirror world, against a bunch of creatures called changelings. They looked like people my age, talked like them, seemed entirely human. But they're not. They're Shadows who've taken the place of their former personage, the actual person long dead. They're not by any means people." August seems like he's trying to convince himself of that, atleast, as he says it. It's kind of difficult to condemn someone who looks so much like you as 'not a person'. "But I had trouble attacking them, shooting them. And, well...yeah." August seems like this entire thing is awkward to him. It's very hard to say 'I want to be better at killing people'. "I want to overcome it, so I can better destroy monsters. That's what I do. I protect people from monsters. Do you know anything that could help?"
Empty Tidings	Tidings does not seem to be one to ask simple or easy things of people. "I'm glad. You'll be happy to relax there, once it's complete. I've seen what others in the Watch think is acceptable as a lair, and, frankly, it is far below my standards for something like that." She gestures at the teahouse. It's relatively simple, but everything is of high quality and kept nice and neat. "As you can see, I prefer a more elegant solution to that sort of problem. What's the point of a base of operations you cannot be comfortable in?" He lays out the problem. Tidings pours tea. She's very precise about it. It looks just this side of ceremonial in how she does it. When he's done speaking, she's done pouring, replacing the pot and looking August in the face somewhat searchingly. "Shadows that replace people," she murmurs. "That sounds... troublesome." A moment of quiet passes. One wonders if she's looking into his head and reading him like a book, the way she's looking at him. "I do," she says, eventually. "Desperation, firstly. That was how it was for me." She looks away from him, frowning faintly. "Kill or be killed. I could put your back against the wall; force you into a situation where your only option was to take a life to preserve your own. But..." She picks up her cup. "...that lacks the purity of purpose you're looking for." She looks at him over the top of her teacup, smiling a catlike smile. "Have you ever heard the saying that the one who can't talk about it shouldn't be having it," Tidings asks, her demeanor suddenly flirtateous and her posture suggestive. She leans forward a little, bells chiming. "It's talking about a much more pleasant activity, of course... but the same principle applies here, too." Her eyes and her voice harden. "Say it."
August Kohler	August sips from the tea as Empty Tidings speaks. He frowns a little when she talks about putting his back against the wall, which indicates that's not what he wants. It's kind of uncomfortable feeling read like this, but they're friends, right? august's going to speak again, when she makes that smile, and basically intimidates him a little when her eyes and voice harden. But, she's right, August realizes. He's being a coward. He's a person with the will to survive, the will to push forward, so why can't he say it? Taking a long breath, August speaks up. His voice is firm, and doesn't waver. He's forcing it not to waver. "I want to be able to kill. Help me."
Empty Tidings	The tea is good. Why would it be anything else? Tidings doesn't break eye contact with August, sizing him up as he steels himself. She gradually straightens, the moment of odd playfulness bleeding out of, running off of her demeanor like water off a duck's back. It leaves her straight-backed and confident. She tips her head towards him. "Good. That's all I needed to hear." Tidings gestures at the cup. "Relax. Drink your tea. It's pointless to be tense about this, and that couldn't have been easy. You come from a time and a place where such things are abhorrent and should never occur. I'm impressed you didn't stutter." Tidings looks away from August, towards the girl playing in the middle of the teahouse. "The girl. What do you think of her? I only recently acquired her. She's talented, I think. We've needed some music here for some time."
August Kohler	August is tense, but he starts to relax as Tidings tells him to. That was difficult, yeah. He's killed monsters, he's shot people, but saying straight up 'I want to be able to commit murder without caring' is difficult because it's, honestly, something that people shouldn't want. But he's in a tough position. He needs to do tough things. Being unable to act because of such a human thing is difficult. Is he making the wrong choice? Maybe. But as he once said in a contract...this is his own responsibility, and no one else's. "She's good. ...has interesting nails? This isn't usually my type of music, but it fits the atmosphere well." Another sip of the tea. It is really good, August decides.
Empty Tidings	"You noticed that, did you?" Empty Tidings smiles. "I'm glad. Most people overlook it. Being attentive is a worthwhile trait." She puts her cup down, leaning back against her high-backed seat. She watches her and listens quietly for a moment more, letting August enjoy the environment for just that much longer. It's a nice place. It's calm, and peaceful. That peaceful moment shatters when she says, "I would like you to kill her." She's looking at him when he inevitably turns to stare in what may be shock, or horror, or who knows what else. She's perfectly calm. With great care, she lifts one hand, and places a knife sheathed in lacquered wood on the table between them. "Shall I tell you why?"
August Kohler	August soaks in the calm. It feels good. Nice to have a moment of relaxation, a time to take a breather. Up until Empty Tidings makes her request. August takes a moment from sipping his tea, pausing to make sure he heard her right. When he realizes he did, in fact, hear her right, he pales. Shock, a little bit of worry. The tea in his mouth is gulped down, as he tries to figure out how to respond. He can't just say yes, can he? Empty Tidings gives him something to grasp. "...Yeah, please do." His voice is hesitant again. But he already asked her for help. Maybe this is a test? Maybe there's not actually a blade in the sheath? No, that doesn't make sense. Then...why would Tidings want August to kill her musician? August needs to know. He needs something, anything, before he makes a decision that might damn him.
Empty Tidings	"Because I asked you to." The answer is cool as the knife and just as unsettling. "You swore yourself to my service, and so if I make this request of you, you have little recourse but to proceed as I ask." She watches him. "Does that reassure you? I've found that mortals by and large prefer the weight of moral judgment to be on someone else's shoulders. You can say, 'I was commanded thus,' and be respected for your obedience while your master is chided for their lack of moral character." She refills their cups without apparent concern, taking her time with August's. "What if I told you she was a monster? The features you noticed, they are the result of a demon's blood mingling with a human's. Beneath her robes, she conceals a stinger with the deadliness of Southern sword-glass." She moves onto her own. "What if I told you she was mad, and you would be doing her a kindness to end her suffering? Her mind and will have been broken by the lash and worse. She can play, but do little more than that. Every moment without music is suffering." "What if I told you," she continues, placing the pot back down, "that she was more than merely /born/ a monster? That she'd killed ten men in cold blood. That she was a murderer, and that you would be stopping more deaths by putting an end to her." Empty Tidings sits back with her cup. She sips her tea. She smiles faintly with the enjoyment of something so simple and sublime.
August Kohler	August swallows. He looks to Tidings. He looks to the knife. She makes valid points - he owes her, and she gave him an order. He swore himself to her service. But still...it's so difficult, ending a life. Can he really... Tidings gives him something to latch onto. He moves for it immediately. "/Is/ she a monster? Is she mad? That's important." August needs a justification. He's having trouble saying no outright, but if it turned out she was something like a witch in man's clothing, or a murderer, he could do it without guilt. No, scratch that. He could never do it without guilt. But maybe he'd be able to console himself if he did it.
Empty Tidings	Tidings... doesn't answer. She lets August think about it and sweat it out for as long as it takes her to finish enjoying the cup of tea. Fortunately, they're very small cups, so it doesn't take /too/ long. It's just enough to make him wonder if she's going to actually answer him at all. "Yes," she finally says. "Her heritage is true; her blood flows with the denizens of Malfeas. She was taken by the Guild as a child and turned into a slave, where she was broken of all other drive than to make music. When she could not, she flew into terrible rages. They restrained her at first, but her prior master thought the placid girl he purchased on a whim would be easy to control. He did not know of the passions that her blood made boil up in her." She makes a gesture with her free hand. The rest of the room goes still, and then, as one, they stand. They step out of the shadowed alcoves and into the light in the middle of the chamber. They are all men, all richly dressed, and are all uniformly covered in blood. Throats are cut and bellies are opened, covered by sticky, bloody cloth. Puncture wounds run up the sides of one that August can see from his seat. Their eyes are all dark, and do not reflect light, staring straight ahead as they all stand seemingly at attention. "I anticipated you would put the burden of proof upon me," Empty Tidings states, "so I took the steps to bind a decanthrope to the bodies of her victims. These are they." She gestures at them, palm up, with her open, empty hand. "Her master took silver for her, and a promise of silence. The second is vastly more valuable to me than the coin I spent. Distasteful though it may be, she is legally my property, and I may do with her as I wish. So, I have her play. And as she plays, the world fades to nothingness in her ears and eyes." She turns her eyes back to August. "Is that enough to assuage your conscience?"
August Kohler	The time spent waiting for a response is hell. The anticipation is palpable, and when Tidings finally responds, a small weight lifts off August's shoulders, though it's only one of many. He listens to her words intently, trying to grasp at the justification. The blood of Malfeas...demon blood, and murder. The men are revealed. August stares at their grisly forms, taking it in. If he's going to do this, and he's not sure how he can back out, he needs justification. It doesn't even cross his mind that Tidings might be lying to him. She helped him save people. She helped him save himself. She's one of his allies - why would she trick him over murdering a servant? "Alright. I understand. I don't have a choice unless I want to betray you." August sighs, and moves to grasp the blade. As he pulls it out of the sheath, he examines it. A sharp blade, well-maintained. The way he looks at it, it's clear he's familiar with knives and their upkeep. "I'm not sure how killing someone in cold blood is supposed to help me, and I'll...I'll admit I don't like you forcing my hand. But I...I made a promise, didn't I? A solemn oath." August is stuttering. He's clearly nervous. But he rises from the seat. A normal human being wouldn't rise with the knife still in their hand. They'd run away. But August isn't normal. He's someone who's been hurt, who's been damaged, who's basically a shell, and is only starting to be remolded. He's influenceable. But even with that, this is still his decision. Every step he makes towards the central pond is his own choice. They're heavy steps. August considers turning and bailing. But what sort of man would he be? He made an oath. He came here asking for help. He wanted something very specific, something very taboo. He wanted to be able to kill. And she's a monster, right? She killed those men. He saw their bodies. Her nails, her hair - the demonic bloodline explains that, right? She's not human, not any more. She's not a /person/, right? August fills his mind with the bodies of the men as he reaches the pond. He needs to focus on the atrocity. No, better, this is mercy, right? Yeah, it's mercy for a monster. Turn back, August Kohler. Turn back before you change yourself...no, no. This is how he'll solve the problem. The woman's a barrier in his path. A barrier that's not some innocent person. A barrier that could kill him if she wanted. She might even fight back. Show her true nature. Maybe that'd make it easier? August finally reaches the woman, playing her song, taking another step. He glances towards her neck, looking for a vital spot that he can quickly kill her from. It probably doesn't have to be silent, otherwise Tidings wouldn't tell him to do it. He turns the knife around in his hand. He grips it tight. He looks back to Tidings, and then back to the woman. August plunges the knife into her neck. He knows how to use a knife, so it shouldn't be difficult. But even so, it is.
Empty Tidings	The musician does not stir. She makes music, and she pays no heed to the world around her. August finds her to be human in all the ways that matter, save for the odd coloration to her hair and the crystalline nature of her nails that endlessly pluck the stringed instrument in front of her. It makes finding an artery easy, since she is hardly moving anything but her fingers. The knife enters. The musician misses a note. She plays on for a span of several seconds, and then falters, swaying as blood pours out of the wound. There's an astounding amount of it. It's as red as it should be for any human. There's no obvious trace of demonic ancestry, no visible marks beyond what he's seen and what Tidings tells him. She tries to keep playing, and then tries to cry out, only managing a weak, gurgling cry. Her hand finally moves upwards, touching August's. It drops again. She falls. Her body splashes into the rapidly clouding pool of water she was sitting in. The teahouse falls silent. Tidings says nothing. She just watches him. She waits. The decanthrope-controlled victims slide silently back into the alcoves as Tidings observes his handiwork. Speaking, she knows, would break the crystalline silence. It would unsteady the moment of internal agony that he must absolutely be feeling. Must have /felt/. Part of her wants to comfort him, though. And part of her... ... She says nothing. She watches. She waits.
August Kohler	The knife slices into its target. The blood is red, and stains his hands and sleeves. He'll have to burn this jacket. Why is that his first thought? August thinks it's a safety mechanism. Don't think about her. Don't think, don't think. But despite that, he thinks. She's in agony. She's bleeding out, just like a human. It's horrible. And then she looks up at him. That part is what stings the worst. When August turns back, his footsteps are slow, unsteady. His face is cold, steel, implacable. It's a mask he knows well. He's forcing it on, using every part of his willpower to keep cool, to not breakdown and vomit over the anxiety. He walks back over to the table with the bloodied knife in hand. He couldn't just leave it there. August doesn't know why, he just couldn't. Couldn't let go of his grip on it. Dispensing the knife on the table, he speaks to Empty Tidings. "It's done." His voice is cold, holding back the haggard strains of a teenager who just committed premeditated murder. He glances around to whatever equivalent they have for a washroom, and waits to see if Tidings is going to say anything to him. He lets her, if she is. And then, August moves to depart, washing his hands if possible and then leaving. He's clearly not in the mood for more conversation, not right now. He'll call her later, ask her what he was supposed to learn from that. Hopefully, whatever it was is worth the pain going on inside his head.
Empty Tidings	Tidings doesn't stop him. He delivers the knife. She looks up at him. She seems... weary, suddenly. It's just for a moment. Just for that one singular moment. "You did well," she says. "But the first is the hardest, no matter how justified it is. Hold to your convictions, and you will come to realize that sometimes, this is precisely what needs to be done." She shakes her head faintly. The bells sound. They seem somehow sorrowful, mourning in tone. "But not tonight. It won't come tonight." There is a basin for him to wash in. The knife is where he left it when he returns and goes to leave. Tidings is, too, but she's looking at the body, still fallen in the blood-clouded pool. August leaves. Ten minutes later, Empty Tidings very carefully lifts the knife and stands from her seat. She takes it downstairs, into the partly-flooded basement and back up to an adjacent building. She places it in a box amidst other tightly-bound boxes, sealed in prayer strips written with blasphemous characters. She pens another strip, and closes this one along with all the others. They are bound for Malfeas, once they have collected all the rest. In spite of everything, Tidings feels a smile creeping onto her face. Everything is going to be alright. August still has a chance.