The initial anxiety had dissipated by now, leaving only a numb discontent in its wake. [[character:Dakarai N'Sehla|He]]'d lost his sense of time long ago - whether it's been only an hour since [[character:Jagdish Tsukinaka|Jagdish]] announced the [[:Legendaries|Council]] would meet to discuss his fate or several, or perhaps even a day, he doesn't know. The only light where he's confined to is artificial, and his inner clock runs on Introspection Time, which is by definition the longest possible subjective passage of time that he could possibly be left alone with himself for.
He hadn't begged, to his own credit. But he'd asked for the whole ordeal to be reconsidered - no one would benefit from a change, after all. He was sure the plea had gone unheard, of course - and a part of him was glad for it. Two parts, really. One of them he was less proud of - an unreflected self-preservation instinct that didn't care for his moral decisions at all and clung to life with a desperate fervour. The other simply saw it as a question of respect - this wasn't a game of petty vengeance or arbitrary rules bent to suit whatever emotional state his captors were in, there was a rigorously enforced framework that did not always rule in favour of the ones who wielded such power.
Either way, there was still a chance they'd dismiss the whole thing - and the more time went on, the more he soothed himself with the thought that nothing would change. He tried to picture the conversations they might be having right now in his head, but drew a blank - while he vividly remembered the Legendaries from his trial, he had no understanding of their personalities to go with it. However, surely if they didn't let petty vengeance rule their decisions, then they'd not let a misguided compassion do so, either? And nothing had changed, really. He'd still done plenty horrible things. By his understanding, they could simply end him for those.
There's no dozing off in this state, however - it comes with a deep restlessness, despite the numbing veil he's smothered himself in. Silently, he sips at a mug of water Mew dropped by not long ago, leant in a stand against the wall rather than sunk into a sit. The numbness is welcome, of course. If he could think much of anything at all right now - if it wasn't all hopelessly tangled and self-contradicting - he'd just find ways to make himself miserable, and he'd much rather have a presentable air when Jagdish returned.
When the sound of keys announce just that, he presses just a little bit further against the wall, glancing aside and pressing his lips to a thin line, trying to gather himself enough inwardly to have some buffer for either verdict. When the door opens and a soft, golden light of all too obviously familiar origin begins to fall into his prison, however, his instinct flares up, trying to prompt him into flight. Irritated with the useless urge, he holds himself tensely still for a moment, biting against the inside of his lower lip, quashing the urge to make some pathetic noise out of fear. Composure.
The walk to Dakarai's cell is neither overly long nor overly complicated by awkward staircases or narrow corridors. As such, it only offers the legendary limited time to disperse the tension left behind by the Council meeting and find some form of calm. The keys jingle, find the lock, and turn; Jagdish pushes the door open, and [[pokémon:Solalon]] follows the gymleader in, his own natural radiance meeting with, and mostly subsuming, the artificial one provided by the lone light in the ceiling.
A glare from the legendary locks onto Dakarai's eyes, carrying with it a dose of venom that Solalon can't quite keep back. ~Dakarai N'Sehla,~ he addresses in the most minimal formal greeting he can. ~I'm here to inform you of the Council's decision.~ Silence falls for several long moments, that harsh glare unbroken. ~We have decided that once your sentence is complete, you will be allowed to live.~
The raptorian's attention is evidently a little much to bear - Dakarai doesn't even make much of an attempt to win the staring contest, instead jerking his gaze to the side instead, searching for a human face. Jagdish's is expected, of course, and welcome. [[character:Yarver Bakema|Yarver]]'s... adds an extra tinge of unease to his emotional landscape. The last thing he needs is an additional witness to how well he fares. Or doesn't.
The Council's decision? So they have felled one; not that anything else was to be expected, but some part of him nonetheless manages to be surprised - no doubt the one that's been perpetually disoriented by the surreality of everything that's happened to him in the past days. Weeks? ...months?
As the actual verdict reaches him, his self-preservation instinct surges into a cheer - only to be brutally struck down by every other fibre of his body. He closes his eyes, tension holding him still. The response he wanted to give was a half bitter, half condescending 'That wasn't necessary'. But that horse is long since expired and no pummelling is about to resurrect it. The second urge to flares up is the one he'd so admirably avoided earlier: Begging. Maybe if he begs they'll reconsider. Except that's stupid and he knows it is. "I'm sorry," he says, inflection very much one of condolences shared rather than apology delivered.
A low, predatory growl rumbles from Solalon at that comment. It's the only warning that Dakarai gets, before in a flurry of motion, his right forepaw lances up towards his head, claws tracing shallow lines along his scalp, digits gripping at hair, palm pressing at the side of his head, keeping it firmly in place against the stone walls.
Perhaps if the tone had been less definitive, Solalon would have been fine interpreting it as an apology - such a thing, though unlikely to be accepted, would at least seem appropriate, given his situation and the amount of headache the human's put him through. But this? Acting like the outcome was somehow a //loss// for the Council, after all the effort and thought that went into the decision? That screams disrespect of a phenomenal degree. There's a very strong urge to inquire about that, to ask precisely //why// he thought saying such a thing was at all appropriate, but it's stopped by one thing: He doesn't want to know. He wants to wash his claws of this matter once and for all and leave this miserable excuse for a human in the Arbiter's capable hands.
And so, he instead opts for a much simpler response: ~I'm. Not. Finished.~ The words ring for a few moments in his psyche, something about their intensity making them difficult to forget.
It looks like his sincere regret has hit a nerve. It's a nerve that currently has him partly pinned against the stone wall, teetering on a welcome edge to undoing the entire collectively undesired verdict. Perhaps... if he nudged Solalon just a little further, deliberately or accidentally, maybe this would all be over? There's no sudden fear in his bones - he's hyperaware of the pressure against his skull and the impossible strength of the creature, but the Legendary can do no wrong. Either it does everyone a favour, or it stays true to its own words and lets him live. Dispassionately, he observes the scene, as if he weren't a part of it.
"I meant no offence," he whispers, closing his eyes again, spreading the fingers of his hands against the wall behind him, making his tension apparent without rising to in physical defence. A part of him wants to append 'Please continue at your leisure', but he fears it might be taken as sarcasm or mockery, and as much as it's in his power to provoke vicious reactions, he currently doesn't want to bias the raptorian - more than absolutely necessary by his existence alone, that is. Cautiously, he peels his eyes open, glancing up at the inverse silhouette with the closest thing to an apologetic gaze that he can muster in his disorientation and curiosity.
A long, tense silence follows Dakarai's response, punctuated by Solalon's breathing, his aggravated state entirely obvious. Eventually, he finds some form of calm, though it's coupled with a vicious harshness directed towards the human. ~You will be allowed to live,~ he repeats, traces of a snarl in his mental tone. ~Here, under the Arbiter's supervision.~ Another pause, followed by: ~Is that understood?~
Something surges through his chest, briefly restricting his breath. What- what does that mean? He's not altogether sure, but it's such an important restriction and his instinct proclaims it such a welcome addition. His spine twists subtly against the stone wall, eyes going just a little wider - the barest hints of a childish glee infecting his expression. He stares at Solalon in wonder, a part of him bemused by that particular emotion; a pissed-off Legendary was pinning him to the wall and all he could muster was to marvel at it, really? Surely there were more reasonable reactions he could be having. Surely even just the notion of indefinite de-facto incarceration should be provoking something more like horror, even... but instead, it felt like he was being offered a compromise, and he clung to that as a gift despite knowing that far from the intention.
He can't help himself. "...thank you," he says, quietly, near-whispering, tinge of incredulousness in his voice, predominantly reverent as it is.
Solalon's glare adopts an incredulous flavor, and another growl spills from him. He has neither need nor desire for Dakarai's //thanks//, of all things. But there's no need to do anything else to him - Jagdish would certainly take care of things from here. He releases his grip on Dakarai's skull, already turning towards the exit. ~My work here is done,~ he comments to the room at large, already starting to make his way out the door. He pauses briefly near Jagdish, and says to him privately: ~I sincerely wish you luck in dealing with him.~ A brief pause later, he adds: ~No need to lead me back, I'll find my way out.~ And with that, he's moving back into the hallway, taking his leave of this dreadful situation at last.
Jagdish's posture is casual - if he's held any concern for either his captive or the Legendary during their brief spat, it's wholly invisible. His left arm's wrapped around his torso lightly, and as Solalon passes him to leave, the fingers of his right hand begin a slow drum against the pale skin of said arm. "Thank you, Solalon," he comments, equally sincerely, glancing across at the raptorian for a moment of respect, before letting his gaze drift back to Dakarai, a darkly bemused smile creasing his lips.
Silence reigns for long moments, until Solalon's light is faint enough to suggest him out of earshot. "You have quite a talent, young man," Jagdish comments. His arm unfolds from his torso and both hands rise to gesture finesse, though any 'praise' of his is certainly heavily sarcastic, as evidenced by a dangerous tone and slightly narrowed eyes. "It's like you're streamlined for getting under legendary skin. Is that an inborn trait or was it hard work to refine it to this purity?"
That prompts an apologetic cringe, right along with a look of confusion that effortlessly undoes half of the effect.
Jagdish closes his eyes briefly, only to sigh tersely, much as if those closed lids were hiding an eyeroll. "Either way," he comments, before briefly glancing sideways at Yarver in idle concern, as if expecting his friend to intervene in some fashion - but the Vale gymleader is simply watching with a look of distant displeasure, hardly a friend of Dakarai's, hardly trusting the man as far as he can throw him, but with no personal bone to pick. "Either way," Jagdish resumes, glancing back at Dakarai. "It would appear I can do whatever I damn well please with you now. Not that this is strictly news between you and I, I suppose, but it would seem there's a certainly formal necessity to it now." His hands fold infront of him, knitted together in a hover before his chest, one wrist at ninety degree angle, the other held straight. "As it were, I'd like to put this generous decree to use in some fashion that doesn't qualify as arduously //bland//." He exhales audibly, brightening a little. "So I'd like some suggestions. Come up with a way to make yourself useful." A pause, his lips parted as if to continue speaking, is ultimately followed by a grin. "I might even consider some of them."
{{tag>[raw]}}