With Mew curled up against the back of Jagdish Tsukinaka's neck, purring contentedly and only partly lucid with her mind suspended in half a nap, drunk on the excitement of the day, tail restlessly sweeping and twisting through the air beside him, the gymleader looks a bit lost amidst the landscape, sat with his arms in his lap on what had once been a chunk of wall and now resembled a boulder more than anything else. He's sitting in an open room in the second floor of the cathedral, Mew's dim pink light the brightest for a while, bathing the edges of the building in a rose tinge, his expression pensive and grave, waiting for his summoned guest, watching the stars twinkle, gooseflesh from the chill of the air quite firmly established on his bare arms, but without shivers to go with it.
He quite disliked having to call for Solalon - for one, the legendary was, after all, somewhat firmly associated with his task as Arbiter, for two, while easy to cross for the creature, the distance between Vereheq and Taqnateh was nothing to sneeze at, and it simply felt like he was imposing each time he sought to speak to the majestic pokémon outside of standardised official capacity.
The silence of the night is pierced by the sound of claws landing on the stone roof of the Taqnateh cathedral, and a long moment later, a golden-white glow can be seen filtering down from the same. A familiar raptorian shape picks its way across the rooftop, coming to the edge above Jagdish's current location before, pausing briefly before leaping down, landing gracefully a few meters from the gymleader.
Solalon shakes his neck lightly, letting his plume settle before he turns to face Jagdish properly. ~Greetings, Jagdish,~ he addresses. ~And Mew,~ he adds with a light nod. The small feline purrs and offers a soft “Mewmew”, but otherwise gives little response. ~You called for me?~ the raptorian legendary asks, shifting into a sit as his attention comes to rest fully on the larger and more human of the two.
The soft pink glow ends up dwarfed by the warm radiance of the legendary, making more detailed features of the cathedral's structure apparent, weathered wallpaper of this exposed room showing its cracks, blisters and moisture-smudged colour. “Solalon.” Jagdish rises slowly and tips his shoulders forward just enough to denote something of a bow, careful in the same motion not to let Mew tumble off his shoulders, then lets himself sink back down onto the boulder, adopting a bit of a slouch despite himself.
“As Arbiter, I have a formal request to make,” he says, slowly and clearly. “Specifically, that N'Sehla be allowed to live. I have firm reason to believe he wasn't altogether truthful in his trial.” The words make for an interesting paradox - normally, when Jagdish uses the phrase 'wasn't altogether truthful', punishment is best adjusted to something more severe. That he'd be requesting more lenience is… unusual.
The legendary's muzzle adopts a hint of a frown and his eyes narrow slightly, even as his head tilts to the side in confusion. It's unusual for Jagdish to request leniency on one who had been deemed deserving of death. In fact, this is the first time Solalon can recall such a thing happening. Could he be beginning to grow soft in his role as Arbiter? There's a long pause, before he replies: ~I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate.~
There was a part of Jagdish that viscerally wanted to simply say 'forget it' and continue with his duties simply to punish Dakarai for having had the audacity to manipulate his hearing, regardless in which direction, but for one, he'd called Solalon here and he owed him an explanation, and for two, he simply didn't have enough sadism in him even out of rage to see that smouldering urge through to the end. As such, it simply gnaws at his psyche, sapping his energy to continue, slowing thoughts and his demeanour to a crawl. He's usually prompt to answer. Now, his gaze is loitering around on the ground almost indecisively, light frown on his face. “Despite all claims on the contrary, he didn't know what he was doing.” A pause. “I know he said otherwise in the trial, and neither you nor I had reason to doubt it, given the dire circumstance, but…” He exhales. “Lets be honest with each other - we weren't really looking for signs he might have acted without thinking. We'd made up our minds and he played right into our expectations. I'm sure if we'd been a little less predisposed, we would have picked up on the inconsistencies.” He glances up at Solalon, his glance one of a flustered sort of frustration.
A vague sense of discomfort worms its way into Solalon's shape. Jagdish believes that N'Sehla didn't know what he was doing, in spite of the depth of the hole he'd dug himself in the trial - and while it's hard to conceive of Jagdish being mistaken on such things, it's equally hard to conceive of the alternative. ~…you're saying that he purposely lied in the trial… to make himself look worse?~ There's a note of incredulousness in the mental tone. ~Or did he not realize that he was condemning himself to his fate, either?~
“…no,” Jagdish comments, an awkwardness touching his posture, spine held straight now, but shoulders themselves still slouched forward, demeanour plainly not because of Mew's rest on his shoulders but out of a deeper cause. “From my recent conversations with him, he was quite lucid about what he was doing. I suppose he thought we were going to be too easy on him if he was honest.” There's a bitter amusement in Jagdish's tone. “He's not happy with what he's done at all, that much is clear, and I assure you it's not because the past days have beaten it into him.” A pause. “He disapproves of my speaking to you about this - he essentially begged me not to reconsider.” He shakes his head slightly, visibly perturbed by the whole situation. It was one thing to have to ask for lenience, it was quite another to do so without the consent of the victim. And there was no end to the amount of backwards this felt, though he'd at least gotten over the instinctive sting of undermined authority by now, even if he still wasn't quite at the point of forgiving the twit the elaborate facade itself.
Solalon's muzzle dips, a contemplative frown tugging at his lips as he considers this for a long moment. ~…If he purposely chose not to properly defend himself at the trial, I'm strongly tempted to consider that an error in his judgment, not ours,~ he finally replies. ~We have to rely on the evidence seen at the trial to make our decisions, otherwise the trial itself is meaningless,~ he argues.
Jagdish nods, closing his eyes a touch longer than a blink. “I concur, up to a point,” he comments. “I don't think we made an error during the trial and I am very… displeased with his deception,” he begins, strange emphasis on the word 'displeased', suggesting it a strong euphemism. “But I cannot in good conscience continue with his sentence now that the circumstances that prompted it have been called into question like this; or rather, disproven.” His hands knit into each other and he glances down at them nervously.
Mew stirs, issuing a soft sound as if roused by his statement, tilting her muzzle by rolling her head against him idly, staring at his face in profile. Her tail gives a particularly energetic flick. Gradually, a dejected air infects her.
“If it's any consolation, I'm quite sure a decision to let him live would hardly be in his favour. It means getting up every day and seeing himself in the mirror,” Jagdish argues, dispassionately but nonetheless sincerely. “But I think it would be the fair and reasonable decision.”
Solalon closes his eyes, breathing slowly. ~I see your point,~ he comments, though mental tone still carries a note of scepticism. There's a long pause as he mulls the issue over, and then his shoulders roll slightly in imitation of a shrug. ~Either way, I'm not going to make a unilateral decision on this matter. This is something the Council needs to discuss and come to a consensus on.~ He opens his eyes again, looking directly into the gymleader's. ~You are, of course, welcome to make your case at our next meeting.~
'Your case'. Jagdish grimaces lightly at the choice of phrase - it was, formally speaking, correct, but he struggled to identify with this rational request to the point that he would claim ownership. He certainly felt more like some kind of oracle, simply passing along the words of another… though without that there was any other person speaking those words. They were just… appearing out of the aether, summoned forth by a frustrating desire to be professional about this.
The nod is automatic, but there's a subtlety to his body language begging for a pause. After a moment, tip of his tongue travelling between his lips for a moment, pressing them to a thin line for a brief moment. Then, in equal parts hesitant and pleading: “Would you like to speak to the captive?”
The legendary's features soften somewhat at Jagdish's grimace. He's clearly uncomfortable with that notion, and while he's occasionally seemed uneasy around the Council in the past, this is different. Perhaps it's just the bizarreness of this particular request.
He considers Jagdish's question for a moment - the honest answer is 'no', at this point he'd be quite happy to never have to deal with Dakarai N'Sehla again. But then, if he was going to meet with the rest of the Council to discuss this issue, he'd need to fully understand the situation himself. He lets out a sigh, and nods slowly. ~Yes, I suppose I should.~ He shifts into a stand, making motions to begin a turn, pausing partway. ~Is he in a lucid enough state now, or should I wait?~
The part of Jagdish rife with cynicism wanted to respond with 'if you're waiting for him to be lucid, you're going to have to wait until the stars burn out', but now was not the time for that sort of humour. He unfolds his hands and stands slowly but steadily, as if to imbue the motion with a certain grace, and then nods. “He should be approachable. Would you like me to drag him up here…” - by the scruff of his neck - “…or should I rather give you a tour of the cathedral?”
Solalon considers the question briefly, then gives a light roll of his shoulder. ~It doesn't particularly matter to me, though it would probably be somewhat easier for me if he were brought up here,~ he comments. Human structures have an annoying tendency to be filled with these things called 'stairs', that were clearly not designed with pokémon like him in mind. ~Whichever you'd prefer, though.~
The notion of having to drag the captive up here, while amusing and perhaps even satisfying in theory, nags at him as wholly impractical. For a moment, Jagdish pauses, staring at nothing in particular, an expression of mild displeasure on his face - before he relents. It certainly would be easier for the pokémon to wait up here. He nods in acknowledgement, giving a soft sigh. “Wait here,” he instructs, though his tone is more akin to a suggestion - then he's walking out to fetch the source of all this trouble.
Meanwhile, in the depths of Taqnateh's cathedral, drained of energy without being granted the flavour of exhaustion that would bring him sleep, thoughts crowding in and out of his mind unbidden, Dakarai N'Sehla is trying to focus on finding adjectives to describe how he feels simply to dispel his growing dread of the silence. Currently, the best match to his swimming perception is 'dizzy', though that hardly does it justice. His right shoulder's nuzzled itself into the stone corner of his cell, arms held up by their wrists at what was currently an awkward angle, his right cheek pressed against the cool stone, his eyes half-closed and out of focus, legs angled off to his left, tangled against each other without care.
He wasn't sure what to feel. He'd slipped up, he knew that much, and he'd been horrible patching it back up. It was difficult to keep up a pretense that he felt he deserved his fate if his body so vehemently denied anything of the sort. It was powerfully persuasive in that regard, he had to give it that, though he hardly appreciated its interference. There was a hollow sensation anchored in his gut, a perverse, unappreciated mixture of hope and loathing - hope to be rescued out of this hell, loathing that he was hoping for it despite his own visceral opinions about himself. He felt split in two, with one part betraying everything the other cared about.
When the door opens and a soft pink light spills in, his first instinct is to find a way to melt into the wall, driven by a pang of fear the past days have instilled in him. Aside from tension and the slight sound of cloth against stone as he shifts, he doesn't make a sound, nor tear his gaze around to see who was visiting - it was clear it was going to be Jagdish, after all.
“Get up, you have an appointment.” The voice is wholly casual in its idle resentment, even as Jagdish approaches along with the sound of softly jingling keys, Mew floating behind him as a distant observer.
Dakarai pulled himself to his feet almost automatically, before the words even fully registered, as if some part of him sought to make amends for that stupid slip of the tongue by being extra well behaved, something that hardly suited the character he'd been trying to maintain. Then confusion enters his gaze as he looks at the gymleader, holding his wrists against his torso as if in some protective instinct. His mind sluggishly latched onto the word 'appointment' and began an arduous attempt at deciphering its meaning.
The antics prompt an exasperated sigh - a moment later, Jagdish's tugged at the bound wrists and detaches them from their chain. A part of him considered explaining the phrase to Dakarai, but he found himself afflicted by a certain weariness and general unwillingness to be that forthcoming. Let him squirm and try to fill in the blanks by himself. Fingers wrap around Dakarai's left arm near his wrist, tugging him into motion, an abrupt jerk - and in some instinctive compliance, he's dutifully followed.
It lasts until the door of the cell, when something in Dakarai's fogged skull clicks. He stands still, gaze suspended between an incredulous stare and a venomous glare, anchoring his shoulder against the frame of the door and spacing his feet in physical objection to any further motion. Jagdish pauses, his stride abruptly broken, and narrows his eyes. “Don't you think you've caused enough trouble already?” he asks, bitterly. “It's not that easy to goad me into forgetting about all this, but you're going to rapidly lose the last pitiful fragments of respect I have for you if you make me drag you along by your hair.”
It's about as much of a confirmation of his woes as he needs to bristle. “You want to put me before that mockery of a trial again?” he asks, voice a touch hoarse, tone by proxy missing its intended mark of 'spiteful' and landing somewhere in the vicinity of 'pathetic whine'.
An inhuman growl escapes Jagdish. “I'm giving you five seconds to correct that nonsensical blathering and stop wasting my time.”
“Or else what?” Dakarai comments back, voice firmer now.
In Jagdish's mouth, his tongue's folded down against itself, edges pressed against his teeth, providing itself as a simulacrum of some sort of chewing gum for his jaw to work against. If he was going to lose his patience, this whole thing was just going to be hopeless. A moment later, he tips his head to the side as if to crick his neck, then with stubborn intent lets go of Dakarai's arm, only to grab a hold of his hair, even as he tries to duck to the side. Fingers sunk into those strands he tugs at him. “I give you my heartfelt assurance that I don't give a toss about whether you're doing yourself a disfavour with your antics - but I do very much care whether you waste the time of the legendary Council,” he glowers. “And if you honestly feel you deserve worse punishment, then you care should, too - just consider it part of the process. It's certainly the least you can do to start undoing some of the damage you've done. Man up and shut up.”
It doesn't get any easier. All in all, it takes nearly twenty minutes to get Dakarai back onto the roof, dealing with a stubborn mule for the first third of the way, a collapsed, pleading wreck for another third, and a resigned quiet rock for the rest of it. By the time they come into Solalon's view, Jagdish's breath is heavy, frustration evident in every line of his body, hand fisted in the man's hair, still, and Dakarai's hands are clasped about the arm dragging him, trying to push it off weakly, ineffectually and half-heartedly, numb expression on his face.
That is until he sees Solalon. The reaction to that inverse silhouette is a curt, sharp cry from the captive, cringing in on himself out of some reflex he himself doesn't have a full grasp on the underlying intent of. “Let me go!” he pleads, all pretense of venom gone in that phrase, leaving only raw, pitiful submission, a frantic gaze darting across to and along Solalon.
After the first five or ten minutes, Solalon utters a brief sigh. Perhaps navigating the stairs would have been easier. Regardless, what's done is done, and he's certainly in no rush to have another conversation with this particular prisoner. He sits down, facing the doorway, closes his eyes, and waits.
Dakarai's sharp yelp draws the legendary out of his reverie, eyes snapping open and quickly finding Dakarai's face, narrowing in silent contempt. The glare lasts for an uncomfortable moment longer, before he shifts his gaze up to Jagdish. ~I apologize for making you deal with that,~ he offers, before turning his attention back to Dakarai, taking a few steps towards the pitiful human figure.
Talking to him is close to the last thing he wants to be doing right now, and it seems the feeling is mutual. However, that doesn't make it any less necessary, and so he does his best to isolate out his personal disdain for this human and focus on doing his job. ~Dakarai N'Sehla,~ he greets, tone as neutral as he can muster. ~Do you know why you're up here?~
Dakarai's stare is in equal parts horrified and hollow - he has no idea. That is, unless he interprets the question as 'Do you know what the cause for your being up here is?', in which case the answer was that he was stupid and weak and hadn't managed to stick to his resolve. His heart hammers in his chest, suspended in Jagdish's grip, arms slung across the gymleader's arm at awkward angles from his earlier attempt to push him away, gaze piercing past the outside of his right arm. “…no,” he says, his voice pitiful, but the statement sincere.
Solalon snorts, already beginning to feel frustrated with this. ~I've been informed that you were less than truthful during your trial.~ It's the most neutral way he can phrase it - it would be obvious to Dakarai that Jagdish told him, and there's no way to hide that fact. ~I would like you to explain to me, in your own words, precisely why you felt the need to lie to the Council in order to make your case appear worse,~ he continues, a fair dose of venom in his tone.
A motion ripples through Dakarai akin to an instinct attempt to flee cut short. He's silent but for his laboured breath for a moment - then gives a soft sound of protest as Jagdish abruptly lets go of his hair and gives his arm a single sinuous shake, letting Dakarai drop from his awkward diagonal posture like a rock into an undignified sideway sprawl. Driven more by a desire to be respectful than in an effort to recover some pride, he scrambles into something between a crouch and a sit, staring up at Solalon in a way that could either be disoriented or pleading, or perhaps both.
He had no idea what to say. Most of him wanted to be truthful out of respect of the legendary before him, but the words seemed to crowd against his gag reflex and refused to spill forth. For an agonisingly long moment, testing his captors' patience, he's silent and tense. Then: “I- I don't think it matters, does it?” From the sound of it, it's a genuine question, full of confusion. “I'm beyond redemption, I'm-” Breathe. “I was weak and this fellow packs quite a punch and I said a few stupid things,” he offers. “Can't we collectively forget that?” A different part of him strained against its prison, hoping to break out and beg to be heard, be released of the torment he could barely bare in abstract. 'Quite a punch' was definitely an understatement. “I mean… you don't like me, the gymleader here doesn't like me, I don't like me, we all agree I'm awful, we- we don't have to correct anything.” A surreal shame tinges his cheeks - he felt like a child, barely coherent, making a laughable case for himself… or against himself, as it were.
A low growl worms its way out of Solalon. ~Regardless of my personal opinion of you,~ he snarls, ~or Jagdish's, or your own, that is beside the point. Whether or not you are 'beyond redemption' or not is for the Council to decide, not you.~ Solalon pauses briefly, to let that sink in, before continuing, ~Answer the question.~
A part of Dakarai surged up within him to retort with 'I have every right to judge myself!', but it fell short. He had no right to judge anything - not after his phenomenal inability to comprehend the consequences of his own actions on an empathic level. His mouth opens fractionally, only to close again. Nervously, his glance dips, veering off to the side, shoulders hunching subtly. “I apologise profusely,” he says, sincerely. “I didn't want any mercy, Sir, so I made sure I wouldn't be given any. I… still don't, but… you're right. I overstepped my boundaries.” His voice cracks dangerously and he lets his eyes drift closed, struggling for calm. All was fine as long as he didn't start crying. He wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself if he broke down; less out of lost dignity and more out of a desire not to subject these people to such unrestrained, pathetic displays of weakness. He feels he should end his little narrative with another 'I'm sorry,' but he's scared he doesn't have it in him.
A long silence descends, Solalon glaring at the captive human, plume bristling. He's unconvinced that he understands the extent to which he overstepped his boundaries, or precisely which boundaries he overstepped, but perhaps it's too much to expect that from him. He is only human after all. And really, trying to explain that to him is beside the point. He's still misguided if he thinks that 'mercy' is an available option, but there's not much he can do to adjust that either.
~Very well,~ he replies, finally, his glare still unrelenting. ~Now. I'd like you to tell me - to the best of your ability - every point in the narrative you gave to the Council that, from your perspective, was untruthful or misleading, and I'd like you to correct those statements.~
The instruction makes the hair on Dakarai's neck bristle and his psyche runs squarely into the wall of 'should have kept up the pretense, you numbskull'. But it's too late to change course now without ruining the few measly crumbs of karma he's painstakingly acquired in the past days in his self-perception. “Is that necessary?” he asks in a whisper, visibly shrinking. “I… said a lot of things I didn't mean. Quite a few horrible things I'd rather not repeat.” It's cold out here, he knows, but he feels uncomfortably warm, even without a shirt to trap his body heat to his torso.
Fortunately, he doesn't make Solalon repeat his command. Eyes closed, sunk down into a sit on his heels, he sways a bit, trying to trick whatever part of him was flailing around like a cornered animal to believe he was alone and in no danger. It took quite a feat of self-deception to achieve, but after no more than a moment, he swallows dryly and comments: “In brief, all events were factually presented - I presumed you had means to check them, or at least most of them, so none of that was inaccurately described. Perception and motivations, on the other hand…” His eyelids are touched by a flutter without bothering to open even for a moment, too convinced that actually looking at his surroundings would be fatal for his resolve.
“The Council asked me if I'd known what pain I'd put my pokémon through in battling. I believe my answer to that was something to the effect of 'Of course'. The truthful answer is… that I… didn't stop to consider it. I knew that battling was common in Kanto and Johto and erroneously presumed your kin did not… feel pain as humans do, at least during something as mistakenly deemed natural as battles between them.”
For a moment, he bites his tongue, trying to force a panicking part of him into submission, before continuing: “The Council asked me if I'd known that I'd hurt my pokémon with… the contraption I'd made. If I recall correctly, I… laughed and said I did. The truthful answer…” - he exhales tersely - “…is that while I knew I was doing them harm - it is difficult to make a weapon with any other intent after all - I simply didn't stop to consider the implications. It was a tool for me, making training a bit more precise. I could argue, even now, that my pokémon were better off listening to my advice than petulantly thunderpunching my knee - which is what prompted is creation - but it hardly matters - it should never have been created. But I had a focus on the gym circuit and nothing else mattered.”
His bound hands flex in his lap, curling into tense fists. “I did not set out to complete the gym circuit for some sadistic joy of watching my pokémon shred into others and I did not raise my weapon out of any inherent loathing. I set out to do the gym circuit for the reason anyone does it - desperate pandering for attention and a sliver of recognition when no other options are available. If I'd had an inkling of what I was actually doing, I wouldn't have begun. I would have released Fracture when I obtained her and not used her to catch more pokémon. But I didn't see Fracture as much as I saw a tool - not out of some sense of superiority, but out of a simple lack of contemplating her nature at all.”
So far, so good. Cautiously, he opens his eyes, aware of the presence of the others, hairs on the back of his neck raising, some animal part of him in anticipation of another strike against him, but he holds himself still but for another sway, staring at nothing in particular. “When Jagdish introduced me to the Council, I… noticed I'd made an intolerable mistake. This… isn't something you can just overlook.” His eyes squeeze shut as he wrestles with himself, throat knotting in on itself. “If I could, I… would go back in time. To before the gym circuit. To before Fracture. I would visit my past self and, to be wholly frank with you… I would slit his throat.”
Listening to Dakarai's explanation is about as pleasant as getting one's hand caught in a grindstone. Every word out of the human's mouth makes the urge to leap at him and rip him to shreds that much harder to resist. Claws scratch at the hard stone. Bared teeth grit against each other. Muscles tense, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
Thankfully for all parties involved, though, Solalon has enough self-control to keep his emotions in check, if only barely. As Dakarai finishes, he turns away, moving quickly to put some distance between them lest he slip and attack purely out of instinct. He rests one forepaw on a ruined section of wall, staring out into the night, trying to will himself into some semblance of calm. A long silence descends, before he asks, ~And you truly never stopped to consider them as living creatures, until you were brought before the Council?~ He twists his body, turning his piercing gaze back to the human.
“They're plainly alive, but I'm sure you'll agree that a plant deserves a different treatment than a mollusk… than a mosquito, than a pokémon,” Dakarai comments, calm in tone for the moment. “So 'alive' does, regrettably, not hold much ethically informational value.” He inhales sharply, only to let the breath escape him with nearly equal velocity. Then, briefly allowing himself the luxury of closed eyes: “To answer your question in spirit, however - no.” Another breath, shallower this time, huffs from him. He could hardly be more uncomfortable if he tried - this fate is quite difficult to bear, having to speak of an incarnation of himself he'd take a weaponised blowtorch to if he had a chance, and having to do so to a pokémon clearly uncomfortable with the whole narrative. It seemed like a masochistic indulgence for all involvees and if he had any less respect for Jagdish and Solalon, he'd be stolidly refusing cooperation even now.
“I understand it's difficult to comprehend that, but it may become more tangible if you… stop looking at it from the Council's perspective - my past self's perspective was ludicrously incompatible with as much as the approach you have. Essentially, my past self was aware of the gym circuit and… fleetingly the tools he needed to complete it - and there was nothing else. I held no more respect for humans at the time than I did to pokémon; I didn't stop to consider that, either, but the gym circuit… framework, for lack of a better term, certainly made being kind to the humans encountered part of the spiel, making that significantly less visible. The gymleaders' judgement, you see, matters if you go on the gym circuit, and you… don't treat people who's judgement your success relies on badly. And all of that… absolutely all of that, was little more than instinct.”
Solalon utters a low growl at Dakarai's initial comment, evidently judging it needlessly pedantic. ~So it was less that you had no respect for pokémon than that you had no respect for life itself,~ he surmises, mental tone coldly analytical. ~So explain this, then - if at the time you had no respect for humans, why did you embark on the gym circuit in the first place? Why would you wish to earn recognition among those you had no respect for?~
That prompts a bitter, sad chuckle before Dakarai can help himself, but he sobers up quickly. “Desperation,” he comments, blandly, distantly resentful of the notion itself, but hardly having any pretenses to cling to here. A part of him is half tempted to point out that if they'd gotten their hands on him prior to his gym run, he'd have had no cause for random appeals to other people's respect, he'd be squarely trying to win theirs, but while true, it seems like it'd only serve to insult his new owners.
The legendary's glare persists long after Dakarai's comment, as if expecting him to continue. When it quickly becomes clear that he's not, he adopts a somewhat more pensive expression, trying to work through the implications himself. Desperation. It doesn't make any sense. If he genuinely didn't care about his fellow humans - or anything else, for that matter, as far as he can tell - then what would lead him to wanting approval from anyone or anything else? A soft sigh escapes Solalon's lungs, followed by ~You're going to have to explain.~
Dakarai visibly deflates, as if Solalon's question had carved into him at a particularly delicate point of his psychology. The truth was that it was difficult for him to grasp - he knew his emotions in the matter, perhaps too well, but it was a different issue entirely to find the words to describe them, not to mention that there were authoritative parts of him that declared the interrogation went this far and no further. But of course, he'd hardly be Dakarai if he let something as basic as visceral unease stop him. “…it's… not easy, living in a social bubble. Mind you, disrespect and lack of respect are different concepts, and I… felt true disrespect only for those who disrespected me in turn.” A pause. “However… back in Njoty that pertained to a fair amount of people - more than not amongst those I was acquainted with - so your… stipulation still holds.” A pause provides a mild semantic divide. “I thought if I made them respect me, they might treat me better, and then I could respect them in turn, and… I'd be a little less isolated. …I realise the irony is crushing.”
The piercing gaze continues for a long pause, before finally Solalon turns away, walking back towards the edge of the roof, gazing out into the night. ~I think that's all I need to hear,~ he comments. ~You can take him back to his cell now,~ he informs Jagdish. ~…I'm going to need some time to think about this.~
Jagdish, having listened to the whole thing with a near-unflinching exterior, arms crossed behind his back and posture meticulously straight, air of a guard in the truest sense of the word, doesn't miss a beat. “What would you like me to do with him in the meanwhile?” Jagdish asks, tone blandly neutral but speech very precise, granting him a cold distance. His gaze drifts down from the legendary and onto Dakarai N'Sehla as he speaks, tinge of venom in the glare he fixes the captive with. What he'd argue and what he'd like to do are certainly different things right now - but it does have the benefit that he's hard to disappoint with any answer.
Solalon grimaces at Jagdish's question, though it's impossible to see from their angle. What he'd like right now is to never have to deal with this wretched creature again, and for Jagdish to continue his punishment as was decided by the Council in the first place. What he'd like is to pretend this conversation never occurred. But both of those would be recklessly irresponsible, and he could hardly live with himself if he did. ~…you may delay his punishment until the Council's had a chance to discuss the matter.~
It's the best possible response, really - it's neither asking him to lay off, nor is it telling him to continue against any better personal judgement. It lets him ask Dakarai for his opinion, knowing exactly what his prisoner would prefer - between the choice of spending what would likely be a few days until Solalon's return with introspection alone and that of a particular sort of distraction, his pick was entirely predictable. And he's hardly going to decline him his wish. In the meanwhile, everybody wins. “Thank you for your generosity,” he says, tipping his head in a respectful gesture. It's genuine - he knew Solalon was precise about what he spoke, and the leeway granted by that one word is unusual. The legendaries were usually quite specific about their wishes. This? This was the equivalent of a 'I don't care what you do'. “And for considering my proposal.”
The thanks are met with pensive silence, the legendary already trying to work out how he's going to present this difficulty to the Council. Crinyx will be opposed to anything resembling leniency, that much is obvious. The others he could see potentially leaning either way. And himself… he's not entirely sure what his stance on the matter is, right now. Had he heard at the trial what Dakarai had told him today, perhaps he'd have argued for leniency - but now, it's difficult to pry his personal distaste for him away from his more rational side.
At the very least, he'll need a few days to mull this over before he's fully comfortable calling a Council meeting - for everyone's benefit. After a long silence, he finally comments: ~If there's nothing else you would like to discuss with me, I think I'll take my leave soon.~
“Thank you for your time, Solalon,” Jagdish says. “As always, consider me in your debt.” Said, he lets his gaze linger on Solalon with an expression of friendship and respect a while longer - then lets his gaze drift to the currently so deferential captive, the warmth evaporating. Maybe if he'd stayed true to his advertised deal and let him free, he'd be out of everyone's hair now. With all he knows now, it's unlikely further harm would have come out of him, though he still feels a visceral rejection against the notion, regardless how much his rational lays out the evidence. Does he regret the choice? Perhaps. He'd have to wait to see how the Council decided to resolve this headache. Maybe something passable would come of it.