Scene #8788: When Not Allowed Deception

Owner	Pose
Xion	It's not the usual kind of portal, or even the usual kind of hang-out. The groupchat doesn't show up in the alerts or notifications demanding the herald stand for his crimes. Woz, though one can presume the pair of Retainer and King act in tandem often, is the one that receives the notice. Not in some digitally witched-up groupchat -- just a direct message. After the events, after everything, the location of an almost-metallic grey waver of dimensional space, where Riders could walk through the natural sub-gates of their world, and go to other places within the universes of pyrotechnics and practicals - of places touched by battle, of the many worlds heroes visited and walked among. The one that Xion leads Woz (and any additional Kings of Time) towards spits out into a cave system altogether unlike the handiwork of humans. Instead, everything from the spanning bridges to the crystal hanging lights and edifices are hewn from natural stone. Great boulders seem as doors, and rolling surfaces as side-entrances to chambers of warm earth. The cave ground is speckled with the glittering dust of potentially precious minerals left in the ground simply because the residents have no particular use for their human bounties. This becomes clear when the residents themselves are seen. Stout, broad-shouldered and built humanoids generally featuring horns, prominent teath, earthen tones and bristled fur, and smooth, square features rounded by motion, age, and living character. Trolls, in a word. Xion sits within a simple earthen-hewn tavern, the bartop contiguous with the ground in a raised shelf and the chairs likewise stone with a soft, mossy top that grows naturally on the stone chair. Her black coat is tucked under her thighs so she sits on the outside of the tail, so as not to get her pants or knees all dirty, drinking out of a very square mug some sort of dirt brown and extra frothy substance. Before her is someone more shoulder and horn than person, shifting about largely nonverbally to see to drink needs... even if Xion and the bartender are the only people around. Outside, some Trolls mill around... But none stick around when the Riders show up except the slightly 'trapped' barkeep.
Timespace Riders	Sougo and Woz could both use some fresh air, though only one will admit it out loud. The two of them had just stood up, from the dining table in 9-5 DO, that unusual little combination house and clock-repair shop. Woz had entered the kitchen, to take a few snacks for an outing to a local park, when a familiar buzz-chirp sounded. "Hoh?" His lips curl into an interested little smile, like a jewel appraiser beholding many facets. "How intriguing." --- Naturally, he had told Sougo. The two of them thusly traverse crystal-lit caves, cross stone-hewn bridges and enter through boulders fashioned into doors, together. It's been a considerable amount of time, since the last time Xion spoke with either the Demon King or his retainer; enough so that both are curious enough to oblige, in their own ways. Sougo loves people--seeing the signs of their presence before seeing them, properly, only puts more of a bounce in his step, as he approaches the tavern. "Who are these guys?" Sougo asks conversationally, passing through the veins of the underground community. "Do you truly wish my answer, sire?" asks Woz, fondly. He knows how much Sougo enjoys knowing other people, by this point. What could the book tell him, that wouldn't delight him more to learn himself? The Demon King is beaming, entering the cavern-tavern (not without an enthusiastic smile-wave at the trolls milling about outside). "Hi Xion! I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long..." His brown eyes flick towards the mossy seats. "Huh... maybe I should have worn green pants. ...oh, well!" His khakis will survive, or they will be replaced. Probably the former, though, if only because his pastel blue button-up's paisley print will be on the front line, as large as he likes his shirts. "I must admit, I am surprised that you reached out to me, after our last encounter. What is the occasion?"
Xion	The Trolls of the area, beings regularly bigger and more built visibly than the average human, clearly have some sort of wariness of Sougo and Woz as they enter, the Decadegate on the Rider World side leading to more of a sworlingly blue Arcadian portal on the Troll side, branched and braced in woven wood. A naturally occurring feature that perhaps the Trolls disappeared through to explore, and perhaps did not. There was a Oni-hunting Rider, but he fought guys with a little more rubber and a lot less stone than the bulky locals. They shy away from interacting, still, clearly deeply wary of Humans and those that presented as two such sorts. Xion doesn't seem to be a particular exception - she has locally affected a slate grey skintone and bears two blunt tusks on her lower jaw and two curling horns from above her temples on her brow, black bangs falling to either side of the stiff protuberances. The bit of local flair of Troll Xion helps with appreciating her mostly-mushroom ''beer'', of entirely unquestionable pedigree for a people whose insides are entirely made of stone. Woz and Sougo sitting down gets them each a look from the swept-haired troll at the bar, like a wide brown emo kid with deep bangs over one eye, and a vertical oval of a visible eye. That vertical oval flicks to Xion, checks her as she's greeted, and then moves back to the boys to slightly anxiously place two empty quartz crystal glasses on the bartop slab before them. From a pitcher simply etched with some symbols ('Human' in Troll), the Troll bartender pours out clear spring water into the glasses, the inner crystal casting a novel reflection of colors into the glass, before bringing a small rough crystal between broad thumb and forefinger and holding it over the glasses. Xion is looked at, and nods shooing with her left hand. "Yeah, they want the whole taste." She suggests for the pair, and the bartroll smushes the crystal between their fingers and delicately grinds the powder into the two glasses, where it twinkles as drifting-soluable powder within the glasses. Xion picks up her own mug and drinks again, fingerwaving at the Timespace Duo. "Yo." She begins, a little lamely after ordering drinks for them. "Nah, not too long. I..." Woz's doubt causes the noirette to smirk, despite everything. The tusk splitting her lip widens the normal thin dagger of her expression. "But you came, both of you, so... You're expecting something good, right?" Xion sighs, nodding and turning forward. "I wanted to see how you were. I know you fought hard. Not just for your people, but..." Years ago, both knew, she would have said 'everyone'. It was a word that had came so easily to the Nobody, before. Now, she just trails off. "I wanted to ask you how you were, and - if you had changed any of your answers, Woz." They hadn't parted on perfect terms, to be sure. "I thought to ask you again, what kind of 'Kamen Rider' you were. And... Some other stuff."
Timespace Riders	The wariness isn't lost on Sougo, despite how easily he wears a smile. "Oh my gosh," Sougo says in quiet awe of Troll Xion. "Thank you, barkeep," says Woz, with an inclination of his head. The retainer sips (from Sougo's, first, as any good vizier ought). "Expecting... I don't know! But hoping, sure," says Sougo, taking his first proper sip after his royal advisor okayed it. Really, it's more indulging Woz, than anything. He likes making little gestures like that, even if he doesn't really believe anyone here would give him reason to. "We have both benefited from our prior encounters with you--even if, at the time, we did not see it. have my answers changed?" He takes a little breath, sighing through his nose. "'What is kingliness, for you?' That was your question for me, was it not? ..." He frowns thoughtfully, watching the colors in his drink. "Yes. I believe that I can be more honest, now. You spoke, just now, about fighting hard for our people. 'Kingliness,' to me, is knowing 'your people,' as distinct from 'all people.'" he pauses, looking across his glass, to meet her eyes. "It is holding a bearing which they may observe, and learn from, even if they cannot follow you exactly. It is making decisions which are best for them even if they balk, in the moment. It means..." Woz, pauses sighs. "Apologies. Our fight was difficult, as you no doubt overheard. As you no doubt see." They look tired, the both of them, despite Woz's courtly bearing and Sougo's warmth. The telltale signs of a hard fight also show up, on wrists, collarbones, hidden behind the odd bandage. Burns, cuts, bruises. "And it was not made easier for some of the fools which fought beside us." "Woz and I disagree, sometimes, on who 'our people' are. But... you probably heard that, too, didn't you? Earlier today."
Xion	Troll Xion's stone-quality skin emotes like a moving wall, her tusks practically etched into little divots in her coal-black lips. Her eyes, as well, feature round mascara-black rings defining where grey goes white, then sapphire-glittering mineral blue. She drinks slowly, her mushroom drink a different sort of libation. The Human-Water (with Crushed Crystal) turns out to be an odd flavor. To a water-sampler and a drink contemplator, the water is exceptionally pure water pulled from certain cave pools produced by underground icemelt that the Trolls had cleared for such collections. The added bit of flavor was a large crystal of novel... Salt! Despite having the nose of 'water, with crystal??' (the human nose does not detect the bouquet of potential in novel salts), the flavor of the water has a mineral umami taste mild in palpable salinity and complex in the rich minerality of the effect. A fizz across the sides and backs of the tastebuds, a batterylick copper flare, the sensate pleasure of a long drink after salty chips. Maybe the boys' thing! Maybe not. It's novel, though! Sougo leads. Xion nods along, leaning and nasally exhaling a held breath that splits across the stiffened features of her face. "I guess you learned the same thing that took me a while to learn, then, Zi-O." She grimaces, like smelling overripe fruit - just a little bit of a smile, and otherwise, a general disgust. At the last 'it means...' that falls to nothing, Xion's 'yeah'-evoked grimace turns to a nod, and she adds a cough to reaching for her flagon anew, almost drinking. She hangs as well. "Sougo..." Then, resolved and remustering her expression, Xion places her drink down unsipped. Instead, she turns to face Sougo on her stool - Sougo and Woz. "I'm glad you learned to be unpresuming, but, I wasn't asking you, Zi-O. Not... really. I mostly knew your answer. I'm glad you learned how to say it. It took me long enough if you hadn't learned I thought I'd share, but..." Troll Xion rolls her coated shoulder and tilts her head to look past Sougo at Woz, and smile blankly at the retainer. "I heard that. It's fine for you to be different 'Kamen Rider', as well. It's not 'One' and 'Two' with you, but 'Zi-O' and 'Woz'. But, Woz - you're not a King. You're just a retainer. And to call yourself 'Kamen Rider'... I've met the kinds of people who swear themselves to Demon Kings, and none of them deserve the title of Kamen Rider off of that. A king who defends their people, a wandering kingdom of hearts across time as a royal protector - that could be Kamen Rider. But his second? That could be a transforming warrior, but that's not 'Kamen Rider'. And you're not Zi-O II. That's him again. So what's..." Xion blinks her crystal-blue and mineral-white eyes, shuttering with slate grey and coal black lids with each flutter. "What's 'Kamen Rider Woz'? You didn't even claim to want to help the people of the places I fought Zi-O in, and you didn't seem particularly inclined to inherit the power from the future I challenged you with. Is that really a servant's power? Can you really go 'beyond the time' you came from with it?"
Timespace Riders	It isn't Sougo's thing--but, "Wow! I've never had anything like this." He isn't sorry he tried it, at least. Maybe he likes sweet, more than umami? Woz, however, seems to enjoy his, chipping away at it much more than his king. "The effervescence pairs well with the flavor." I guess you learned the same thing that took me a while to learn, then, Zi-O. Sougo smiles wanly at her. Some lessons aren't enjoyable to learn. I'm glad you learned to be unpresuming, but, I wasn't asking you, Zi-O. Not... really. His smile is a shade more apologetic, at that. The message is received, and he nods, focusing on his drink. It isn't wildly not his thing, after all! Just something he'd drink, if given, without seeking it out. What's 'Kamen Rider Woz'? Despite his fatigue, Woz smiles. "That was my mistake. I feared it, and so I denied it. Now, I know better--that possibilities bear consideration, and study. That is Kamen Rider Woz. A chronicler of what was, what is, and what shall be," he says, with a little grandiose sweep of his hand. "I am a servant, yes. To my king, first and foremost, but also to untapped potential, and nascent ambition." A glimmer of amusement, in his dark pools, as the corners of his mouth twist upwards. "I remember something else you told me, that day--that I had not earned the right to be a jester. I mistook that, for mockery." He pauses, allowing the silence to be his admission of wrong. "...I believe I know what you meant, thanks to the perspective of Captain Hook. He said, rightly, that a jester is a sacred position. One who says 'what needs to be said.' And while it is a necessary, esteemed position, it is not Kamen Rider Woz." "Kamen Rider Woz is a vizier; not only to the Demon King, but to any who, by their potential, by the fires of ambition within them, are worthy of it. He does not fight for 'justice,' necessarily, but to protect and kindle the desires of those who would otherwise be fooled into wasting themselves, for a world which will never reward or repay them."
Xion	Xion produces a small sheaf - fifteen or so - of herbed crackers that has the vague scent of a bakery about the paper. While it might be something precious, the sachet is also crackers that would demand a bit of moisture to fully enjoy - rosemary and pepper and toasted wheat wrapped in crinkly-creamwhite. Something that a novel salt drink might pair well with. Settling back and leaning on a stony-knuckled fist while she listens and considers Woz, Xion doesn't wait long for the answer from the man who would call themselves 'Kamen Rider' to lay out a rather beautiful dream. "And so, Woz... That's why you're the partner of the Demon King? Are you 'Kamen Rider' to Sougo Tokiwa?" He said so, so, of course, but also - he didn't say that at all. He said 'to the Demon King'. "To those that would waste themselves for a world that would never reward or repay them.... Well, that's definitely a people worth saving." Asked and answered, then. It was something that she had wondered, but now that it was stated out loud. Xion, notoriously a little full contact with her takes and trying lines, isn't here to test and try the honest declaration delivered directly. Woz had given her that - despite their shared history. "Then..." The stone-skinned Xion asks, and fails to go much farther. "... Sorry, I'm used to my normal thing too, but we've been through it a few times. Do you have any questions for me? Either of you." Her eyes find Sougo, more than Woz. She has an idea for what Woz should // could // will ask for.
Timespace Riders	Are you 'Kamen Rider' to Sougo Tokiwa? Woz nods, smiling proudly. To him before others, but not him alone. Sougo smiles proudly, too--he's proud of Woz, of how far he's come, of the fact that Woz has thought about the person he wants to be, more than just 'my retainer.' Do you have any questions for me? Either of you. The two of them share a brief glance. It's easy to see that they're checking with each other, a small confirmation of who'd like to go first. There is one, I could think to ask. But I am unaccustomed to 'asking,' over 'reading.' A subtle inclination of Woz's head, towards Sougo, conveys 'you first.' Sougo meets Xion's gaze, after, with his usual warm smile. There is a little bit of sadness in his eyes, as he regards her, and he sighs. "I'm glad that you think those people need protecting. Because..." He pauses, wiggling in his chair as if that might shake up another way to ask the question. "Let's say, that there was a tree, that if you took the time to grow it, it would make the most delicious fruit you've ever eaten. It would be so tall that it'd shade the ground, and keep the sun from burning the soil. But because the soil is so burnt, and hard, growing that tree takes constant work. Checking for weeds around it, watering it every day, making sure the soil is healthy. And it doesn't just take work from you. It takes a lot of people, working, and that means spending time, water, and energy you could have saved for yourself." "Trees that big don't, can't, grow in one lifetime. Could you ask people to spend their lives on something like that, just for the chance that things will be better for the ones who come after? Just for the chance that the people who come after you can know something other than hard soil and burning sun?" He hasn't stopped thinking about it.
Xion	The boys ask something Xion was not expecting at all. If Woz goes back to check -- Xion had expected him to ask about the watch she had withheld from him, still. It would have been, in a way, a motion full circle, and instead a troll is asked of trees. Her eyes glance to the bartroll. The bartroll's visible eye looks away because they have no idea at all about trees. Xion is on her own. "Let's say there was a tree." She begins. She searches, momentarily, but there's a tree always close to her heart, a slice in cross-section. Rings she had touched. "And you're dreaming of a tree in the future. Fruit, and cool span, and all that stuff... That's 'future', that's 'coming soon', that's something that might be far off even. So it's not actually about the tree. The tree is like... A metaphor for a project, a living gauge. Spending the slow time to grow and build that great plant - being a part of that tree's forest. But the question's wrong. Until that tree can answer the question itself, and it may never, you have to make even more than a tree, but a place worth being near that tree, to draw the help you'll need. A tree's not a bad dream, but like you said - can you ask people to spend their lives for that? You've met Haru - heard him. You know the answer." "It's 'no'. You have to make a reason besides the tree - literally, figuratively - to answer that question." Xion answers. Clear, definite. "Woz, you should know the answer too. If you put a wonderful, attractive dream, you'd attract all those with a lot of giving ambition, but low dreams for themselves. 'Others', they say. But what it really does is water that tree. It's not good or bad, but, it's not 'everyone'. So what's besides the tree, Woz? Sougo? That might have your answer."
Timespace Riders	There is a weighty silence, that follows--perhaps not entirely for Xion, because she can hear the motions of hearts, in her way. Sougo sighs--but not out of the fatigue that's written all over him, nor out of the worry that Xion could see, swirling in his heart. "I think you're right," he says, a little misty-eyed. Not in a bad way. Not in the slightest. He dries his eyes with one hand, nodding. "As do I," says Woz. "Your answer was given most beautifully. I thank you for that, as much as for the answer itself." He takes a breath, another sip of that water--and then, his eyes flick towards Xion's crackers. "I believe I detect the scent of rosemary. May I trouble you for one of those?" Sougo grins, impishly. "That's your question?" Woz chuckles. "No, sire." He is quietly thougtful for a moment more. "...The tree may not yet shade the badlands--but enough hands may render shelter of some other kind, besides. Its fruit may not be seen, but other sustenance may yet be had. In shelter, given sustenance, armed with purpose, and given to song and story at night, the people of 'today' find their work less onerous, the next day. The people of 'tomorrow' will taste that fruit, but the people of 'today' have their own reward." Woz doesn't consult his book. In fact, he hasn't even procured it--not even to see what Xion had in store for them. That's another way he's changed. "I believe, as a chronicler, that idea ought to be penned, preserved, and put into the world. It would be my delight to do so." After a sip (and a munch of one of those crackers, if he's permitted)--he does return his gaze to her. "There was another idea, which comes to mind. The one which you showed me; that potential future. If you still have it... May I request it from you? I wish to learn from it."
Xion	Xion had gotten out the crackers for Sougo to enjoy - that the king hadn't scored them on the countertop was to his own thoughtful credit (or perhaps absentminded forgetfulness) at thinking it was not given over to him. Humbleness, perhaps. When prompted for them by Woz, she stops in time with Sougo, seeking with mineral-shining eyes. But there is immediate confirmation -- that's not his question. Settling back - not really thinking much, herself, of reciting the truth she knew, but nods along to the boys' understanding of the answer to her question. Eventually, Woz gets around to asking her what she thought he would. "If you want to write it down, and show it to those you think might be helped by it, then, feel free." Xion admits, half-paying attention. Her eyes, and attention, are on a book she pulls from besides her, ever besides, like they are at a library and the bookshelf is at hand, at finger, at single stroke of the hand. There is no inventory-swosh, no dark motes, no signatory of the Hero Once Of Everyone's Hearts to pull this book off her shelf. She has waited years to do so. "And what rough beast," The noir-banged troll begins, sotto voice. "It's hour come at last," She lays a soft-bound 'hard' covered book on the bartop, sliding it over with a stony finger. The weight of the thing, the presence in the air, is like every camera takes a breath and three different lingering angle shots of this thing. "Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?" Xion invokes. There is no Ridewatch, Miridewatch, or any hidden treasure free to grab. There is just a book of poetry. But in that book of poetry, on a page found only expecting another bit of introspection, and the next few offerings of a twilight-brightened soul... Is the bitter and bittersweet power of 'at any cost' that a man who dreamed of belonging and found only dwindling hourglasses relied on at the end. A power that no-one wished to be used, at final gasp, to drink one last full measure of resolve and be done with living to exult a life. There is too much to hand over with just a thing for belts and sounds and loudness. It had become a different thing - the story of a whole town's 'Kamen Rider'.
Timespace Riders	Woz gingerly takes the book, and reads into it with the appetite of a scholar. He studies each of the collected poems--after a few, he finds that the pages are given to, and prompting, a different kind of thought. "This belonged to Takuma," he notes. Woz expects a level of composure for himself. He wouldn't let himself cry, around anyone but Sougo. It's not about being vulnerable, or some kind of fear that he'd be taken advantage of--not anymore, anyway. It's simply a comfort that he asks of himself, to set an example for 'his people.' To say that 'the world' and 'the mob' can't take everything from you; that some things can indeed be precious, sacred, private. Xion can feel the lingering shame of a breach of that composure; minor, but a chastisement for something that happened during the fight the two have come from. A moment of 'shouting down,' rather than 'breaking through,' fueled by a frustration he shares with Sougo. 'Why haven't I come farther, after all this work?' "Are you okay, Woz?" asks Sougo. He knows how to read the retainer's brown eyes, knows all the quirks of his lips and which way they turn. "Yes," says the retainer breathlessly, closing the book with gentle reverence. "I... was not expecting to be affected so profoundly, even approaching with the intent to learn." Sougo reaches across the table and lays his hand over Woz's, lacing their fingers together. Woz squeezes. "What did you learn?" "...Once upon a time, a man burned years of his life away, led astray by those with no intention of repaying it. He spent so much of himself that his 'twilight years' would be 'the prime,' for any other man. But even this man, with so little left, found his spot in the shade, when he bothered to do the looking himself. The bitterness of lost time was balmed by the sweet fruit of knowledge:" He pauses, closing his eyes, his palm resting flat on the cover. The retainer takes a steadying breath. His exhale sounds in the same moment that a chronicle of a potential future is spun. The soft whirr, the gentle chime, and his sigh are together like the buzzing of a summer cicada, flying off to leave its final mark on the world. KAIXA! Miridewatches aren't quite Ridewatches. A Ridewatch is 'was, and is,' and 'is, and was,' at once. A Miridewatch, however, is 'is, and might be.' 'Is, and could be.' Woz's scribework plots the arc of Takuma's life, opening wide in his twilight years, when he'd found his people. All manner of potential is explored, from that point--because the point of his chronicling that story, that town's Kamen Rider, was to show all the ways that one might be, even if the choice is made far later than most. "'These people are mine, and I am theirs.'" "Woz..." "...Thank you, Xion, and I do not mean for the libations alone. You have given us both much to ponder, and there are many who could benefit from this accounting." Just as reverentially as he'd closed the book of poetry, he offers it back to Xion, with a gentle push, before finishing his drink. "If it please, sire," he says, looking back at Sougo, "I should like to return home." Sougo nods, and stands, beside Woz, expecting the throw of that grey scarf. Woz smiles wanly. "...perhaps, if it please, we might also return the long way." He'd like time to properly contemplate it--and he knows that Sougo would love to see all the people again, on his way out.
Timespace Riders	"Haha. Sure. Thanks, Xion," he says, turning to her, regarding her with warmth and fondness, that almost drive back that tiredness in his eyes. His chest swells, in that way that it does when he feels like expressing those things with more than just a look. "You should come over sometime. We'd love to have you." "...Indeed," says Woz, quietly intrigued with a new idea. The two of them depart, hand in hand.