Nero was, as it turned out, gone for the rest of that night and much of the day after, but the subsequent evening found him out in his gardens, a dark cloak draped around his shoulders, the red and black of his silhouette a marked contrast to the blossoming moonflowers that occupied this terrace, part of his property holdings within the Castle-City. Generally speaking, only pure-bloods and highest nobility had outdoor property like this, and few sets of rooms actually opened up into a garden the way his did. He found some merit in the arrangement of these ones, the work of Aurelia, of course, though he contributed in his subtle way, the trailing flickers of golden light settling over the blooms like some kind of delicate mist and seeming to lend them a supernatural air themselves, charging the atmosphere with something invigorating.
He took no particular path through the environment, instead simply wandering where he would, coming to a stop in front of the small stream-fed lake created by a dam at the other end. There were large koi fish in the clear waters, and he could see them swimming about, orange and white and grey, the luminance of the moon casting off their scales. Once, the whole world had been like this. His whole world. His very first miracle. He wondered if perhaps he should not have left it so, instead of giving it residents. If he had, all of it would look like this still.
He made a small gesture with his hand, and the boughs of a nearby willow tree formed into a new shape, twining ‘round one another as the roots emerged from the ground, the entire thing forming into a thronelike chair. Crossing to it, Nero sat, leaning back against the pliant strands of branches, the fresh smell of the plant close to hand. He felt a small shudder in the tree when his fingers first brushed the living wood, but this was not unusual. Things with life tended to have peculiar reactions to his presence, at least those things wise enough to remember what he was, as anything could remember, were they to try hard enough. Even a fool like Hajime had remembered, though that had taken a bit of reminding.
Crossing one leg over the other, Nero propped his elbows on the armrests of the chair, folding his hands in front of his mouth. She would come, tonight. He supposed they thought they were surreptitious in their perusal of his library, but the signs of disturbance were there for those who knew how too look. And if there was one thing that Vasilios Nero could do, it was see. He glanced up for a moment, the gold star-patterns around his pupils catching the light and flashing brightly against the backdrop of crimson. He wondered what she would choose, when confronted with the information she sought.
She had never felt...uncertain about anything before. It wasn't something she felt was necessary. It was either do or stay put. There was no need for hesitance, however; for the last day and a half, she had felt hesitant about speaking with Nero. She wanted to know, needed to know, what her father asked for. Perhaps if she knew, it would explain how he came to the power he held now, as King. She walked through the home, searching for Nero as she crossed through the halls. She made it out of the home and searched through the gardens, glancing up every so often to stare at the bright lights above. It seemed odd to her, how peaceful the stars always looked, and she wondered if that was how it could be if Hajime was never allowed to rule. If things had been different, perhaps she would have never been born and allowed to live in this cursed place.
Or perhaps she might have been born to a pair of parents who would have loved each other. But then again, what was love? For all she could see, love was a temporary chain to bind two people together before it became something more for a political advancement. She cared little to nothing about the concept of love. Perhaps that is why she sought out her keeper. If she could find out more of this price to pay on these deals, perhaps she'd strike one of her own. Even if the price was steep, if the reward was power, she could use it to finally bring an end to her father. Granted if she even struck the deal to begin with. Engrossed in her thoughts, Haruka's legs carried her towards the person she searched for, finding him sitting on a plant-like throne.
"For one who desires no throne, you seem comfortable sitting in that chair," she spoke, her eyes roaming over the chair. She blinked slowly before sighing through her nose. "And for all that you are, I am sure you are aware of why I am here," she continued, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at Nero, studying him and watching. She raised a delicate brow before continuing. "If I may be so bold, what exactly is it that my father asked for, when he made his deal with you?"
The eyes landed on Haruka, still strangely-lit, and for a moment, Nero looked every inch the king Hajime wished he was—the force of that gaze was like a perceptible weight, and he saw everything. Peered right into her soul, her future, saw all the choices she could make, some that she might, some that she almost certainly would. Strangely, there were too many still open for him to have a real sense of what would be, only what could. Even more unusually, some of those possibilities, the most unlikely of all, surprised him, in a way that very little ever did. But then the light in those stars, the ones set into the ruby irises, dimmed, and he looked just another man again. At least, insofar as he ever seemed to be just another man. It was no more than an instant, all told, quick enough that one could easily have missed it.
“Not everyone who sits a throne particularly desires it,” he said simply, lifting his shoulders in something like the echo of a shrug. “And this is hardly one in truth. What would it make me? King of the garden?” There was a note of sardonic amusement in the question, and as if to prove his point, he stood smoothly, and the chair returned to what it had been, the roots finding home once more in the earth and the branches unweaving to hang as loosely as if they had never been bound at all. They released more of the glimmers of light, which seemed to hang suspended around them, gently echoing the light of the stars. One had come before the other—he no longer remembered which.
“For all that I am?” he repeated, one corner of his mouth inching upwards a fraction. “You may ask, and I may answer, though you perhaps will not like the reply. But the price is this: pray tell, exactly what is it that you believe I am?” He was curious, what she would say. Perhaps she had an inkling that he was not as he appeared, but most people lacked the concepts to even understand what he really was. They just didn’t believe the things they would need to believe to draw the right conclusions, and even if they did, the evidence was sparse—it would be a bit of a logical leap to make at all.
King of the Garden? Haruka released a snort at the statement. "Not all thrones are made from gold and silver, your Highness," she replied, a hint of amusement laced in her voice as she gave a mock bow. "And I never said you desired it," she added with a light shake of her head. She watched as he stood, tilting her head to the left slightly as his statements fluttered through her ears. He was many things, but most of all, he was not a vampire. That much, Haruka had managed to pick up on. Though they interacted little, it was the small things that she noticed that had formed her conclusion. She wasn't certain what he was, and she had cared very little, if at all, what he truly was. That was his own business, and she wasn't going to pry, but if he wanted to know what she thought, she would oblige.
"I could not tell you what I think you are, for I do not know what you are. Vampire, most certainly not, and I would be a fool to think you as Mika and myself are," she began, folding her arms further around her. "One with abilities such as yourself could not possibly be a dhampir. So there is your answer. I do not know what you are, but what I do know is that you are neither of what you have others believing you to be," she concluded, releasing her arms and letting them fall to her side. She didn't care what he was, he could be a strange human for all she knew. If she had cared, it might have given her more sense to actually be somewhat frightful of what he could be.
But she was not one to be frightful of many things. "And there is always the possibility of an answer not being to one's liking. It is simply a chance we have to take when looking for answers," she added with a light shrug of her shoulders. There were many things she disliked, and even fewer things she liked. She had come seeking answers, and whether or not she would like them, was of little consequence to her.
Nero tilted his head to the side slightly, inclining his head just slightly. Whether this was in acknowledgement of her correctness or only of the fact that she’d fulfilled her end of their little bargain was hard to say. He didn’t clarify, as that was not the question she’d asked. “Your father asked of me three things: the power to end a war, the power to keep a throne, and my restraint from interfering with his rule. The specifics are more detailed, of course, but that is the gist of it. He discovered my existence through a certain feature of his bloodline and a lot of research. By the time he found me, what your kind and others call the apocalypse had come, and the war seemed without end. Per our agreement, I ended it.” He turned slightly, tipping his head up to take in the stars.
“He was not soon enough to save the resources of this planet, beyond what I carved out for him to build his Castle-City upon, but I suppose that mattered little to him.” Perhaps he sat on a throne of living wood, but the kingdom to which it belonged was destroyed, now—he ruled little but the ashes of what once had been. It tinged his tone with a rare hint of something, something besides his perfect apathetic neutrality. Even he could feel, he just rarely did. Once, he had felt quite a lot more, been a creature of great passion and temper, but also great love and concern for that which he had made with his own power. That part of him may well have died when his creation had been rent and burned and torn, reduced to ash and fallow earth.
“And you, Haruka? What would you ask of me, if you knew I could give you anything you could possibly pay for?” he glanced over at her from he corner of his eye. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a price, and some of them were willing to pay dearly for what they desired most of all. Most of the time, he could look at a person and see it, coloring their soul with one hue or another. He could see hers, too, but the wanting and the asking were two very different things.
Power. It was always power, and she should have known better than to have thought differently. For a second, Haruka's gaze faltered, something seeping past the sapphire color of her eyes, before it flickered and died. He had wanted the power to end the war, to keep his throne, and for no interference from Nero. And look what that had reaped. What was sown, was not given the chance to properly grow, and for that, this was the world they lived in. The apocalypse, she recalled it. She remembered what the history books told of it, how the war waged for countless years, but never how it truly ended. But, she supposed at the time there was little importance to know how it ended. As long as it was no longer a problem, why should anyone seek further?
His question, however, caused her to glance back towards him, her eyes set in a monotonous tone. "What I desire is what anyone else desires. The means to an end of a tyrannical ruler. For that, I would pay gladly for it, even if it means the end of my own life for it. My meaningless life would have at least accomplished a first step towards a possibility of peace, for the world to have a chance to regrow, however; even if that is accomplished, there is no guarantee that the next person who stepped up to take the throne would not turn out as Hajime is. Kiyoshi, I know would not be like our father, however; he is also very weak and prone to influence," she answered, her posture regaining some of its correctness.
She was not a sentimental person, and why she cared for a world that cared nothing for her, was still a mystery to herself. Perhaps because it housed people she cared about, like Mika, and her brother. Perhaps she wanted to exact a personal vendetta against her father. Regardless, she had spoken the truth. What she desired, was what anyone else desired: power. Perhaps for a different reason than most, but it was still the same altogether. "That, is what I would ask of you. A chance is all one needs, and perhaps, if things turned out differently, others would not have to suffer for a choice poorly made. People such as Aurelia, my mother, and the humans that were executed that night," she spoke with a little more resolve that even surprised her for a second.
"Perhaps it is a selfish desire, but it is there nonetheless."
“All desires are selfish in the end,” Nero replied simply, his tone receding to the usual monotone. “Even if there were something wrong with that, I would not care to stop it. People should make their own decisions, and if this chance is what you want, I will grant it.” There was no point in keeping the world if it became only a reflection of himself, if he controlled everything in it and gave no one else the opportunity to influence it. Some of his brethren had created realms of paradise, much more beautiful than his, but they remained that way because everything in them was beholden to its creator. There was no room for chaos, not even the smallest fragment of change. Time was unchanging in those world, reality unbending for anyone. Though aesthetically and perhaps even morally perfect, such worlds held no beauty to him.
It was paradoxical, that the beauty of his world had rendered it so ugly. Perhaps he’d been in the wrong after all. Perhaps he would have been better off with another Shangri-La, another place with no change and no will, only perfection. Perhaps, in the end, he would destroy this place he had made because it was too terrible to look at any longer. It seemed more and more likely as time went on. But perhaps there was yet a chance for them both. As she selfishly wanted the chance to make it better, he selfishly wanted the chance to save it. Her wish was easy to grant, his the hardest thing he had ever encountered. But there was still something akin in them.
“The price for that chance is not your life. It is your soul.”
All desires were selfish. That was true, perhaps she should have worded it better. She raised a curious brow, though, at the price. Her soul, was it? Was it not the same as death? A being with no soul was nothing more than an empty husk, just walking, wandering with no place to go once they died. Would it be the same for her father, for Rikichi, when they died? The thoughts dispersed as quickly as they came as she continued to stare at Nero. If it was her soul, then he could have it. What need did she have of a soul anyway? Her kind were perhaps better off without souls. Though, a curious thought fluttered through her mind. Everyone desired something, wished for something.
"Then my soul it shall be, though I do have a question for you," she stated. He could take her soul, she would not care, but the curiosity swelling inside was something she could not ignore for the moment. "If someone could return that favor for you, would you take the chance to save a dying world? An answer is not needed, for you shall have my soul regardless. I have no need for it, and what should it matter if I fail anyway?" she spoke, walking until she was about three feet away from him. He did not have to answer, and even though he would grant her, her wish, who was to say that it would be enough? It was a chance she was willing to take.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “But whether this world is saved or not isn’t for me a matter of the power. I have it—I could save it if is wished.” He turned to face her, laying the tips of his first two fingers on her cheekbone, just beneath the eye her father had once nearly destroyed. “Rather… what would be required is something no one person can give. Can a world like this be worth the saving? A world where a father with enough strength to be kind chooses instead to be cruel? Where those who could use their power to lift others choose instead to crush them? I wonder…” His expression did not waver in its neutrality, but the path his fingertips took, circling up and around her eye to the very center of her forehead, was traced with a gentleness strangely natural on him.
“This will hurt,” he warned quietly, but the deal was struck, and she would simply have to endure it. Something in the air shifted, gravity growing weaker and lifting the hem of his cloak and the ends of his hair as though he floated in water. The same was true of her, and for a moment, they hung there, half-grounded and half-adrift, as his essence connected to hers. From those few who had deigned explain this to him, he knew that this part of the process was almost pure bliss and deep warmth, like being enveloped in something warm and safe. This was the feeling of him giving something to her, in this case, the ability required to reach through the immortality, perfect as it was, that he had granted Hajime. The King had stipulated that the deathlessness must be perfect—and it had been, when it was granted. Now, there were two who might be able to break through it, and one was unaware.
Peaceful as it was, it did not remain that way. The extraction of a soul was not a painless process by a long shot, and it had been described as utter and complete agony—the most horrendous thing the subject had ever endured and ever would endure. Still, at least it was short, and when it was done, Nero stepped back, turning his hand over so that his palm faced upwards. A small sphere floated above the hand, a white flame with a flicker of purple and blue running through it intermittently. “I usually eat these, if you were curious,” he said nonchalantly, as though he hadn’t just introduced her to heaven and hell in the same experience. At least, as close as existed to those things in reality. He closed his fingers over the soul, however, and it disappeared. Perhaps he would change his mind later, but he did not particularly feel like returning this one back to himself yet. “They were all part of me, once, but they have changed.”
She did not see it that way, and perhaps if she had, she would have had a better understanding of things. As it were, she did not, and could not. She stared at him, her gaze steady even as his finger tips touched her cheekbone and circled to the center of her forehead. He spoke of something being painful, and she could only assume it was the extraction of her soul. Pain held little concern for her. For the price of power, it was something she would have to pay. And the pain, after the strange sense of warmness, was excruciating. She could not move, did not move, as he took from her what she had given him. If he could have saved the world as it was now, why did he not? Why not save a world that could be so much more if given the right care and circumstances? There was more to it, than she could understand, but it mattered very little to her now.
Even though it was still painful, what she had gained, she hoped, would be worth it. A chance to give people who deserved it, by ridding the world of a king who did not deserve to live. "It is a heavy price we pay for free will. Where we have the ability to be kind, and instead choose to be cruel. Where we have the freedom to aid and help others, lift them as you say, we choose instead to enslave them, to destroy what little hopes and dreams they have. Free will is a gift, and it is a curse," she retorted, regaining a bit of her posture as the pain dulled. Souls had been a part of him once, and yet they have changed.
"Change is the only thing guaranteed. Whether it's for good or for worse, we only know when it happens. Perhaps a world like this is not worth saving, but what if it is? There must be something left in this pathetic world worth saving," she stated, standing back to her full height glancing up for a moment to regard the stars. "I am afraid you'd find that soul a little...plain and spicy, unless you enjoy those kind of things," she stated, her lips twitching momentarily. Now, only time would tell if the decision she made would be worth the cost of her soul.
He took no particular path through the environment, instead simply wandering where he would, coming to a stop in front of the small stream-fed lake created by a dam at the other end. There were large koi fish in the clear waters, and he could see them swimming about, orange and white and grey, the luminance of the moon casting off their scales. Once, the whole world had been like this. His whole world. His very first miracle. He wondered if perhaps he should not have left it so, instead of giving it residents. If he had, all of it would look like this still.
He made a small gesture with his hand, and the boughs of a nearby willow tree formed into a new shape, twining ‘round one another as the roots emerged from the ground, the entire thing forming into a thronelike chair. Crossing to it, Nero sat, leaning back against the pliant strands of branches, the fresh smell of the plant close to hand. He felt a small shudder in the tree when his fingers first brushed the living wood, but this was not unusual. Things with life tended to have peculiar reactions to his presence, at least those things wise enough to remember what he was, as anything could remember, were they to try hard enough. Even a fool like Hajime had remembered, though that had taken a bit of reminding.
Crossing one leg over the other, Nero propped his elbows on the armrests of the chair, folding his hands in front of his mouth. She would come, tonight. He supposed they thought they were surreptitious in their perusal of his library, but the signs of disturbance were there for those who knew how too look. And if there was one thing that Vasilios Nero could do, it was see. He glanced up for a moment, the gold star-patterns around his pupils catching the light and flashing brightly against the backdrop of crimson. He wondered what she would choose, when confronted with the information she sought.
She had never felt...uncertain about anything before. It wasn't something she felt was necessary. It was either do or stay put. There was no need for hesitance, however; for the last day and a half, she had felt hesitant about speaking with Nero. She wanted to know, needed to know, what her father asked for. Perhaps if she knew, it would explain how he came to the power he held now, as King. She walked through the home, searching for Nero as she crossed through the halls. She made it out of the home and searched through the gardens, glancing up every so often to stare at the bright lights above. It seemed odd to her, how peaceful the stars always looked, and she wondered if that was how it could be if Hajime was never allowed to rule. If things had been different, perhaps she would have never been born and allowed to live in this cursed place.
Or perhaps she might have been born to a pair of parents who would have loved each other. But then again, what was love? For all she could see, love was a temporary chain to bind two people together before it became something more for a political advancement. She cared little to nothing about the concept of love. Perhaps that is why she sought out her keeper. If she could find out more of this price to pay on these deals, perhaps she'd strike one of her own. Even if the price was steep, if the reward was power, she could use it to finally bring an end to her father. Granted if she even struck the deal to begin with. Engrossed in her thoughts, Haruka's legs carried her towards the person she searched for, finding him sitting on a plant-like throne.
"For one who desires no throne, you seem comfortable sitting in that chair," she spoke, her eyes roaming over the chair. She blinked slowly before sighing through her nose. "And for all that you are, I am sure you are aware of why I am here," she continued, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at Nero, studying him and watching. She raised a delicate brow before continuing. "If I may be so bold, what exactly is it that my father asked for, when he made his deal with you?"
The eyes landed on Haruka, still strangely-lit, and for a moment, Nero looked every inch the king Hajime wished he was—the force of that gaze was like a perceptible weight, and he saw everything. Peered right into her soul, her future, saw all the choices she could make, some that she might, some that she almost certainly would. Strangely, there were too many still open for him to have a real sense of what would be, only what could. Even more unusually, some of those possibilities, the most unlikely of all, surprised him, in a way that very little ever did. But then the light in those stars, the ones set into the ruby irises, dimmed, and he looked just another man again. At least, insofar as he ever seemed to be just another man. It was no more than an instant, all told, quick enough that one could easily have missed it.
“Not everyone who sits a throne particularly desires it,” he said simply, lifting his shoulders in something like the echo of a shrug. “And this is hardly one in truth. What would it make me? King of the garden?” There was a note of sardonic amusement in the question, and as if to prove his point, he stood smoothly, and the chair returned to what it had been, the roots finding home once more in the earth and the branches unweaving to hang as loosely as if they had never been bound at all. They released more of the glimmers of light, which seemed to hang suspended around them, gently echoing the light of the stars. One had come before the other—he no longer remembered which.
“For all that I am?” he repeated, one corner of his mouth inching upwards a fraction. “You may ask, and I may answer, though you perhaps will not like the reply. But the price is this: pray tell, exactly what is it that you believe I am?” He was curious, what she would say. Perhaps she had an inkling that he was not as he appeared, but most people lacked the concepts to even understand what he really was. They just didn’t believe the things they would need to believe to draw the right conclusions, and even if they did, the evidence was sparse—it would be a bit of a logical leap to make at all.
King of the Garden? Haruka released a snort at the statement. "Not all thrones are made from gold and silver, your Highness," she replied, a hint of amusement laced in her voice as she gave a mock bow. "And I never said you desired it," she added with a light shake of her head. She watched as he stood, tilting her head to the left slightly as his statements fluttered through her ears. He was many things, but most of all, he was not a vampire. That much, Haruka had managed to pick up on. Though they interacted little, it was the small things that she noticed that had formed her conclusion. She wasn't certain what he was, and she had cared very little, if at all, what he truly was. That was his own business, and she wasn't going to pry, but if he wanted to know what she thought, she would oblige.
"I could not tell you what I think you are, for I do not know what you are. Vampire, most certainly not, and I would be a fool to think you as Mika and myself are," she began, folding her arms further around her. "One with abilities such as yourself could not possibly be a dhampir. So there is your answer. I do not know what you are, but what I do know is that you are neither of what you have others believing you to be," she concluded, releasing her arms and letting them fall to her side. She didn't care what he was, he could be a strange human for all she knew. If she had cared, it might have given her more sense to actually be somewhat frightful of what he could be.
But she was not one to be frightful of many things. "And there is always the possibility of an answer not being to one's liking. It is simply a chance we have to take when looking for answers," she added with a light shrug of her shoulders. There were many things she disliked, and even fewer things she liked. She had come seeking answers, and whether or not she would like them, was of little consequence to her.
Nero tilted his head to the side slightly, inclining his head just slightly. Whether this was in acknowledgement of her correctness or only of the fact that she’d fulfilled her end of their little bargain was hard to say. He didn’t clarify, as that was not the question she’d asked. “Your father asked of me three things: the power to end a war, the power to keep a throne, and my restraint from interfering with his rule. The specifics are more detailed, of course, but that is the gist of it. He discovered my existence through a certain feature of his bloodline and a lot of research. By the time he found me, what your kind and others call the apocalypse had come, and the war seemed without end. Per our agreement, I ended it.” He turned slightly, tipping his head up to take in the stars.
“He was not soon enough to save the resources of this planet, beyond what I carved out for him to build his Castle-City upon, but I suppose that mattered little to him.” Perhaps he sat on a throne of living wood, but the kingdom to which it belonged was destroyed, now—he ruled little but the ashes of what once had been. It tinged his tone with a rare hint of something, something besides his perfect apathetic neutrality. Even he could feel, he just rarely did. Once, he had felt quite a lot more, been a creature of great passion and temper, but also great love and concern for that which he had made with his own power. That part of him may well have died when his creation had been rent and burned and torn, reduced to ash and fallow earth.
“And you, Haruka? What would you ask of me, if you knew I could give you anything you could possibly pay for?” he glanced over at her from he corner of his eye. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a price, and some of them were willing to pay dearly for what they desired most of all. Most of the time, he could look at a person and see it, coloring their soul with one hue or another. He could see hers, too, but the wanting and the asking were two very different things.
Power. It was always power, and she should have known better than to have thought differently. For a second, Haruka's gaze faltered, something seeping past the sapphire color of her eyes, before it flickered and died. He had wanted the power to end the war, to keep his throne, and for no interference from Nero. And look what that had reaped. What was sown, was not given the chance to properly grow, and for that, this was the world they lived in. The apocalypse, she recalled it. She remembered what the history books told of it, how the war waged for countless years, but never how it truly ended. But, she supposed at the time there was little importance to know how it ended. As long as it was no longer a problem, why should anyone seek further?
His question, however, caused her to glance back towards him, her eyes set in a monotonous tone. "What I desire is what anyone else desires. The means to an end of a tyrannical ruler. For that, I would pay gladly for it, even if it means the end of my own life for it. My meaningless life would have at least accomplished a first step towards a possibility of peace, for the world to have a chance to regrow, however; even if that is accomplished, there is no guarantee that the next person who stepped up to take the throne would not turn out as Hajime is. Kiyoshi, I know would not be like our father, however; he is also very weak and prone to influence," she answered, her posture regaining some of its correctness.
She was not a sentimental person, and why she cared for a world that cared nothing for her, was still a mystery to herself. Perhaps because it housed people she cared about, like Mika, and her brother. Perhaps she wanted to exact a personal vendetta against her father. Regardless, she had spoken the truth. What she desired, was what anyone else desired: power. Perhaps for a different reason than most, but it was still the same altogether. "That, is what I would ask of you. A chance is all one needs, and perhaps, if things turned out differently, others would not have to suffer for a choice poorly made. People such as Aurelia, my mother, and the humans that were executed that night," she spoke with a little more resolve that even surprised her for a second.
"Perhaps it is a selfish desire, but it is there nonetheless."
“All desires are selfish in the end,” Nero replied simply, his tone receding to the usual monotone. “Even if there were something wrong with that, I would not care to stop it. People should make their own decisions, and if this chance is what you want, I will grant it.” There was no point in keeping the world if it became only a reflection of himself, if he controlled everything in it and gave no one else the opportunity to influence it. Some of his brethren had created realms of paradise, much more beautiful than his, but they remained that way because everything in them was beholden to its creator. There was no room for chaos, not even the smallest fragment of change. Time was unchanging in those world, reality unbending for anyone. Though aesthetically and perhaps even morally perfect, such worlds held no beauty to him.
It was paradoxical, that the beauty of his world had rendered it so ugly. Perhaps he’d been in the wrong after all. Perhaps he would have been better off with another Shangri-La, another place with no change and no will, only perfection. Perhaps, in the end, he would destroy this place he had made because it was too terrible to look at any longer. It seemed more and more likely as time went on. But perhaps there was yet a chance for them both. As she selfishly wanted the chance to make it better, he selfishly wanted the chance to save it. Her wish was easy to grant, his the hardest thing he had ever encountered. But there was still something akin in them.
“The price for that chance is not your life. It is your soul.”
All desires were selfish. That was true, perhaps she should have worded it better. She raised a curious brow, though, at the price. Her soul, was it? Was it not the same as death? A being with no soul was nothing more than an empty husk, just walking, wandering with no place to go once they died. Would it be the same for her father, for Rikichi, when they died? The thoughts dispersed as quickly as they came as she continued to stare at Nero. If it was her soul, then he could have it. What need did she have of a soul anyway? Her kind were perhaps better off without souls. Though, a curious thought fluttered through her mind. Everyone desired something, wished for something.
"Then my soul it shall be, though I do have a question for you," she stated. He could take her soul, she would not care, but the curiosity swelling inside was something she could not ignore for the moment. "If someone could return that favor for you, would you take the chance to save a dying world? An answer is not needed, for you shall have my soul regardless. I have no need for it, and what should it matter if I fail anyway?" she spoke, walking until she was about three feet away from him. He did not have to answer, and even though he would grant her, her wish, who was to say that it would be enough? It was a chance she was willing to take.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “But whether this world is saved or not isn’t for me a matter of the power. I have it—I could save it if is wished.” He turned to face her, laying the tips of his first two fingers on her cheekbone, just beneath the eye her father had once nearly destroyed. “Rather… what would be required is something no one person can give. Can a world like this be worth the saving? A world where a father with enough strength to be kind chooses instead to be cruel? Where those who could use their power to lift others choose instead to crush them? I wonder…” His expression did not waver in its neutrality, but the path his fingertips took, circling up and around her eye to the very center of her forehead, was traced with a gentleness strangely natural on him.
“This will hurt,” he warned quietly, but the deal was struck, and she would simply have to endure it. Something in the air shifted, gravity growing weaker and lifting the hem of his cloak and the ends of his hair as though he floated in water. The same was true of her, and for a moment, they hung there, half-grounded and half-adrift, as his essence connected to hers. From those few who had deigned explain this to him, he knew that this part of the process was almost pure bliss and deep warmth, like being enveloped in something warm and safe. This was the feeling of him giving something to her, in this case, the ability required to reach through the immortality, perfect as it was, that he had granted Hajime. The King had stipulated that the deathlessness must be perfect—and it had been, when it was granted. Now, there were two who might be able to break through it, and one was unaware.
Peaceful as it was, it did not remain that way. The extraction of a soul was not a painless process by a long shot, and it had been described as utter and complete agony—the most horrendous thing the subject had ever endured and ever would endure. Still, at least it was short, and when it was done, Nero stepped back, turning his hand over so that his palm faced upwards. A small sphere floated above the hand, a white flame with a flicker of purple and blue running through it intermittently. “I usually eat these, if you were curious,” he said nonchalantly, as though he hadn’t just introduced her to heaven and hell in the same experience. At least, as close as existed to those things in reality. He closed his fingers over the soul, however, and it disappeared. Perhaps he would change his mind later, but he did not particularly feel like returning this one back to himself yet. “They were all part of me, once, but they have changed.”
She did not see it that way, and perhaps if she had, she would have had a better understanding of things. As it were, she did not, and could not. She stared at him, her gaze steady even as his finger tips touched her cheekbone and circled to the center of her forehead. He spoke of something being painful, and she could only assume it was the extraction of her soul. Pain held little concern for her. For the price of power, it was something she would have to pay. And the pain, after the strange sense of warmness, was excruciating. She could not move, did not move, as he took from her what she had given him. If he could have saved the world as it was now, why did he not? Why not save a world that could be so much more if given the right care and circumstances? There was more to it, than she could understand, but it mattered very little to her now.
Even though it was still painful, what she had gained, she hoped, would be worth it. A chance to give people who deserved it, by ridding the world of a king who did not deserve to live. "It is a heavy price we pay for free will. Where we have the ability to be kind, and instead choose to be cruel. Where we have the freedom to aid and help others, lift them as you say, we choose instead to enslave them, to destroy what little hopes and dreams they have. Free will is a gift, and it is a curse," she retorted, regaining a bit of her posture as the pain dulled. Souls had been a part of him once, and yet they have changed.
"Change is the only thing guaranteed. Whether it's for good or for worse, we only know when it happens. Perhaps a world like this is not worth saving, but what if it is? There must be something left in this pathetic world worth saving," she stated, standing back to her full height glancing up for a moment to regard the stars. "I am afraid you'd find that soul a little...plain and spicy, unless you enjoy those kind of things," she stated, her lips twitching momentarily. Now, only time would tell if the decision she made would be worth the cost of her soul.