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--- character:rose-kaiki:conversation-with-jagdish [2013/05/19 02:46] – created pinkgothic
+++ character:rose-kaiki:conversation-with-jagdish [2017/11/18 21:34] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
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 "You're not," she found herself automatically responding, tension abruptly gripping her shoulders at both catching herself not filtering the bitter remark out, as well as how much her tone betrayed just how much his presence //bothered// her. He could kill her so easily. He could probably ask Redwood to turn against her if he really wished. The mental image overstayed its welcome and her left hand found itself clasped against her right wrist. She was sure there was probably no point in trying to hide her fear - seeing as she was dealing with a predator who no doubt could scent it - but she went through the motions out of stubborn refusal to simply lay down and let him walk all over her life.
-His face creased - not as if insulted, but as if she'd just told him of a recent tragedy in her life. Pity, not rage. //Patronising asshole.// "I don't think I could convince you that you're wrong about that," Jagdish commented, tone a cautious one. "Do you mind if we walk a while?"
+His face creased - not as if insulted, but as if she'd just told him of a recent tragedy in her life. Pity, not rage. //Patronising asshole.// "I don't think I could convince you that you're wrong about that," Jagdish commented, tone a cautious one. It's as if he'd said a different phrase altogether, strung out in the context, //you're wrong about that// becoming //you're wrong to fear me// without verbal mention. "Do you mind if we walk a while?"
 A series of images flashed through her perception - the shores near Roaring Hollow, the beginnings of labyrinthine pathways; a broken body, mere corpse, discarded; an unfettered Taqnateh gym leader, sauntering back to civilisation. Compelling. Terrifying. Not wholly unreasonable, but nonetheless paranoid. She swallowed. "Sure." The ambiguous answer suited her right now - while colloquially it was a denial, she did mind, but she hardly wanted to tell him that to his face. Not yet. He hadn't pushed her far enough for that yet.
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 //Please go away.//
-He did turn, of course - but he was expecting her to follow, and she simply couldn't bring herself to be so discourteous to turn down that implicit prompt. The first step was the only real hurdle - a moment later, walking is an automation.
+He did turn, of course - but he was expecting her to follow, and she simply couldn't bring herself to be so discourteous to turn down that implicit prompt. The first step was the only real hurdle - a moment later, walking was an automation.
 She could ask him what this was about. It was unnecessary - he'd implied as much in his request and she regrettably knew him well enough to know that the chance he'd come to discuss anything else was vanishingly small: She was a thorn in his side; he wanted to replace her. The only thing that was keeping her anchored was that he'd never get away with doing that without her full support, woven into the local community and revered as a political leader as she was. She had to remind herself of that - he //needed// her support. No matter how small his alien presence made her feel, she was the one with power. No matter how much she struggled to believe that on an emotional level.
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 "I'm not going to play this roundabout game with you," she commented, almost immediately distraught at the way her tone cracked and splintered subtly but audibly. "You want to know how you can earn my trust?" she asked, rhetorically. //You're wasting your breath. He won't listen. He's so good at pretending to listen, but he never does.// "Give your position to someone else." //Someone who doesn't murder people. Someone's whose idea of ethical education is a stern conversation over tea rather than a visceral demonstration.//
-✘ **IN PROGRESS**
+A hint of motion to his jaw revealed he had his instinctual reservations, but the subtlety of the motion was nearly invisible in what the small stirring became - earnest contemplation. A light grimace did nothing to detract from it. He was thinking about it - or at least putting on a very good facade to make her believe it. Lips pressed to a thin line; then his gaze found hers, prompting his presence to crawl up her spine once more, unbidden. "Fair," he concedes. "I can see where you're coming from. I'd lie if I said it hadn't occurred to me before - but much the same reasons that tie me to it now would make it rather... unsatisfying for you."
+The gaze has shifted to something casually probing, as if he expected her to fill in the blanks for him. //Not listening.//
+"I am Arbiter because the Legendary Council appointed me. That's not to say I haven't inspired any of the rules - I have no interest in washing my hands of the matter, I freely admit that unlike you I firmly believe they're proper as they are - but that it would trivial for them to excise me from my role once I ceased conforming to their preconceived notions of the position. As such, there's a bit of a... shall we say, selection pressure: I simply wouldn't be Arbiter if I didn't agree with the framework the Council supplies - and, perhaps more importantly, someone else who //did// would be. Off-hand? I can think of at least one person who'd be quite eager."
+Rose's gut churned lightly. It took her a moment to get her bearings about the implied mental image - [[character:Keith Sirius]] as Arbiter was a chilling notion. She desperately wanted to deconstruct even the possibility, but she couldn't quite convince herself that the Council would reject him given no 'better' candidate. Was that what this reduced to? And yet, Jagdish's manner didn't mesh with her perception of the Council - the way things worked now seemed infinitely more like the product of his manipulative machinations than anything the mythological creatures could possibly deem just... but she couldn't attribute enough obliviousness to them to allow for the necessary scale of deception - and their power was certainly uncontested.
+...and yet, foremost, immediately as that first shock cleared, it felt like emotional blackmail. //Better me than Keith,// honestly? The very comparison left a sour taste in her mouth. She narrowed her eyes, and between her silent alarm and increasing resignation, she found herself wondering why she didn't simply ask to leave. He'd made up his mind, clearly. If she was entirely honest with herself, so had she.
+"Additionally, my longevity..." - apparently there was no cause any more to hide it in conversation - "...works in my favour. I know the Council's idiosyncrasies quite well by now and they know mine. They trust my judgement, even - and this is a precious commodity, indeed - when it conflicts with their own. And as difficult as it may be for you to believe me, I have no inherent desire to torture anyone.
+"What keeps me in my position more than any other reason is the genuine belief that I'm as //moderate// as the Council is going to allow."
+She didn't doubt for a moment he believed what he said; that was precisely what made it difficult to deal with. Conviction was difficult to argue with, especially if it was the conviction of a man implied to be several decades her senior, regardless what age he physically appeared to have. It was clear they couldn't possibly disagree any more than they did. If this were any other subject, she might approach his stubborn misconceptions with the patience of a saint, but this was far too personal.
+Her silence seemed to imbue him with the faintest traces of self-consciousness, something she couldn't recall ever seeing in his features before - but it was quick to vanish, proving a mere flicker of a hopeful mirage.
+"I'm sorry," he said, softly, practically exhaling the words. "I prefer honesty to diplomacy in the few occasions the two are at odds with each other." There was a tinge of resignation lacing itself into his body language and tone, like someone who had fully realised that he'd made a grave error in judgement that the conversation wouldn't recover from.
+She wasn't altogether sure the words he spoke classed as honest in the strictest sense. Surely he believed as much - but if he had half the life experience she attributed to him as an immortal demon, he'd have perfected the art of self-deception a long time ago, after he'd run out of a need to practise deception of others. It was possible he simply couldn't tell the difference between truth and a well-crafted lie any more. A part of her felt an urge to pity him for this imagined plight, something that took considerable edge off her unease.
+He paused in his stride. An abrupt shift of his gaze swerved it through the landscape, but there wasn't any point of interest he could conveniently linger it on. Instead, he brought his gaze back around after a moment's loiter, apology in his eyes, albeit without any humble air to go with it. Very formal, very precise, as always. "Do you think I can try that again?"
+A fresh fear crawled in under her skin, but she spoke despite it - or because of it, seeing as it made as good a motivation as any. "...maybe some other time," she said, failing to banish the tension from her voice.
+His left hand crept up to the back of his neck, kneading fingertips against it, slanting his head back to peer up at the sky as if temporarily more spiritual than he usually dared to be, imploring some creature of faith to grant him an insight that he - from her perspective - deliberately turned a blind eye to. It wouldn't be forthcoming even if something metaphysical existed to bestow it upon him.
+Then his attention came back to Earth. Back to her. "I'd like that."
+Rose gave a distorted, meek and cynical smile in response, but didn't answer. In her mind, the words lined up with a crisp clarity regardless:
+//Please wait until the stars burn out.//
+{{tag>[raw]}}