father vincent. (
banworthy) wrote in
etrayalogs2025-07-02 12:12 am
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Entry tags:
[ closed ] you see a man
WHO: Vincent Smith (
banworthy) + CLOSED starters.
WHEN: July.
WHERE: Various places.
WHAT: People actually want to spend time with Vincent (he's surprised and suspicious, too).
NOTES\WARNINGS: Silent Hill 3 spoilers, cult indoctrination.
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WHEN: July.
WHERE: Various places.
WHAT: People actually want to spend time with Vincent (he's surprised and suspicious, too).
NOTES\WARNINGS: Silent Hill 3 spoilers, cult indoctrination.
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[ If he's going to call him "Vander" or "Hound." ]
Good. I think that should spread around to the rest of this place. [ He holds his hands out and wiggles his fingers as though to indicate the infection of music everywhere. ] Although, I will miss the silence. [ Holding his hand out toward Vander, he continues: ] But then I will have something new to complain about, so I suppose that is a win for me. [ His face scrunches up before letting his hands drop. ]
Ah, the oppressive dark -- [ He chimes in return as he walks over toward the door. Tipping his head towards his companion, he flicks his index finger upwards at him before passing through the threshold. ]
I don't like you at all. [ Vincent corrects. ] I only use the word "like" to people I'm certain wouldn't enjoy me talking about them how I normally view people. And that is if they're a high enough investment for me. [ He may have walked straight into a chair as he's walking about with his arms out in a dark room. So his speech stops as he grumbles something before deciding this is where he's going to sit - thanks. ]
If only I could associate with just dead people.
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You're a very contrary person, but I'm starting to suspect you're one of those that experiences joy through complaint. [He was with Vincent about the music part though. He thought that music was valuable, which was why it was so prevalent in the Lanes and the upper levels of the city. He had not seen much, if any, advertising for bands unfortunately because he would like to attend a concert.]
I wouldn't be offended to you told me I was dirt under your shoe; we barely know each other currently. [And that was why they were meeting in his opinion. Vincent might want to learn about Kindred, but Vander was more interested in learning about Vincent.] Well, I'm twenty-five percent and fluctuating, I figure.
[He wandered in and set the box on the table then produced a corkscrew from his back pocket.] Well, I'm a dead person, so points for me.
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[ Is he going to get into how he's never experienced happiness? No. He absolutely is not going to get into that, because it's an annoying topic that people seem to have deep feelings about while he is fine just existing until one day he's happy. It's fine, actually. ]
Well, you're not the dirt under my shoe. [ He plops down in the chair that he had initially run into. ] You are. Dirt under my shoe is currently the one sitting at 3%. [ That's right - someone below the baseline. ]
I think I might offer that person a "hello." [ That's about what 3% would get a person. But he does pause at Vander saying he's dead. ] What a coincidence. Me too.
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[Vander worked the corkscrew into the cork of the bottle of white chardonnay that he had brought with him. With minimal effort, he popped to cork and then put the open bottle back into the box that he had been carrying it around in. He pulled out a small bottle of single malt whiskey for himself.
He offered the box with wine to Vincent.] Your boxed wine. [He then took a seat across from Vincent, looking around the cafe before huffing noisily.] Three perfect? Does my rating reset after each encounter? Or did you just drop me twenty-two percent for calling you out? [He needed to discover these rules of engagement!]
Oh yeah? Practically pals from the grave. How did you die?
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[ His fingers do a little flex as he reaches out to take the box from him. ] Thank you. [ He decides the percentage includes adding that in -- tapping his fingers along the box, he is going to drink from the spout. Thank you. ]
You're not the one that is 3%. I'm just telling you what is dirt under my shoe. [ It's what he says as soon as he sets the box down on the table. He lightly wipes at his mouth to clean off any excess. This is fine since well, they're in the dark, whatever. ] Ratings don't reset after each encounter, but they can change.
[ He hums. ] Stabbed to death.
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[Yeah, Vander did not bother with glasses. This was one of this early morning meet ups that had to be casual and that meant informal as well. He unstoppered his bottle and took a swing of whiskey from it.]
Oh, thanks for the clarification. I need to learn this behavioral rating system in time. [At least he was currently maintaining a lively twenty-five percent. He knew that Vincent would let him know immediately if he began slipping from his pedestal.] Is anyone here that low for you? No names necessary, but I am curious.
[He hummed in return.] Almost me too. Not exactly a fun way to leave the mortal coil.
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[ His tone turns slightly irritated, but he supposes that the dog will keep asking so it is best to say that much. His eyes roll up as he mulls over something but decides that since he's asking some information that much information is fine. ]
Will that benefit you in any way? [ Vincent feels it benefits him, but does it benefit anyone else? ] The person isn't here, but they will maintain that low percentage regardless. [ He sneers in the dark. ]
No, it isn't. They couldn't even do it in one action. Had to have me bleed out a little first. [ He flicks his wrist to the side, dismissing the statement. ] It's fine. [ His killer and he have made up; God's will is in action with that, it seems. ]
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So you know what it looks like in other people, but you're having trouble experiencing it yourself. You wouldn't be the first to tell me that.
[He was intuitive enough to understand what that meant and perhaps not press further than that. It was answer enough, just as much as knowing that someone existed well below market value for Vincent.]
No, not at all. It was a curiosity to know that such a person existed and maintained dirt under your shoe status. [Otherwise, he didn't care for the details unless Vincent wanted to share.] Sounds like a joyful individual. Hopefully they don't appear here then.
[This was probably the most casual talk about death. Almost felt like home with some people.] I figured that might be the case. I assume it happened just before you arrived here?
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[ Both of his hands are up as he makes dismissive gestures with them. He isn't bothered about the lack of happiness he has had in his life so why should other people be upset? The box is being lift up once more to take a drink.
A soft sigh as he sets the box down once more. ] One will hope, but everything is in God's hands. [ He flicks his index finger above them before smiling and laughing. ] Just a joke.
[ He holds his hands out yet again. ] It did, but I've had half a year to get over it. Being upset about dying is worse than -- [ His face scrunches up as he tries to find a good comparison. ] -- anyway, it's nothing. [ He'll use it to try to win arguments, of course, but otherwise, he already decided it was pointless to remain upset about having died. What was the point of it? If the action doesn't yield any result he wants or can't yield any results, there's no point in carrying through with it. ]
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[He wondered if Vincent had been to many bars, and he decided that it was probably negative. The man probably didn't enjoy being in crowds of people from his initial impressions, and he was assessing that Vincent didn't care much about personal happiness. Maybe it was a religion thing: people need to suffer to be accepted by God or something.
He shrugged his shoulders.] So, does your world have a god of death or just the one that rules over everything?
[He nodded his head, and he made a point of taking a drag from his bottle. Seven months and he was still not over his own yet; not his death, of course, but that of his children. It was a wound that still festered this far on.] Yeah, I can understand. Sometimes it's just... worth yelling at someone about it to let the anger out I suppose.
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[ He actually might take offense if someone is concerned about how he's not experienced happiness yet. So long as he's alive, he'll one day be happy. That much he believes for himself. Which is probably the only positive about being alive presently. ]
Just the one that rules over everything. We believe She is the true God.
[ Vincent pauses before lightly slapping the top of the table: ] Also, you said you were going to make me something to eat, too? What did you make? [ That is a bit more important than being worried about his death, at the very least. ]
And what anger? Anger's such a useless emotion. [ He flaps his hands yet again as he doesn't see any point in that feeling. ] It's unproductive and doesn't help me achieve anything that I'm trying to here. So, what's the use in yelling about it to anyone? Other than to make them feel bad, I mean?
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[It was actually amusing to think this guy would be upset that someone would foist sympathy Vincent's way, potentially legitimate or not. He had no doubt that this man was driving towards something, though he had not yet determined what that was. It seemed like it might be a religion thread.]
Ah, so she had dominion over death and life and everything in between. That's not how it works where I am, at least not the way I've been taught.
[Vander huffed in amusement at the sudden inquiring about food, and he rolled his eyes playfully. Sounding like one of his boys now. Janna, don't think about them at a time like this.] Yeah, I'm a man of my word. I brought you food.
[He reached into second bag that he had brought with him and pulled out two containers to set on them table between them. Inside one was as shrimp dip and the other was chips that could be used to scoop it up for consumption.] I hope you're not allergic to seafood.
[Vander peered at Vincent for a long quiet moment, piqued by the explanation. Maybe he should take a page from this one's book on that front, but his anger tended to be stemmed from pain at this point in his life.] Maybe they deserve to feel bad.
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[ Despite what he's saying, it sounds like an insult. Although, it doesn't have the venom of his usual tone; it still is obviously meant to be dismissive of how "nice" he believes Vander to be. ]
Well, that's unfortunate. Delegating such things never is a good idea. If something is to be done right, it should be done by the person on top. [ He flicks his finger toward the ceiling.
But he is soon clapping his hands at the promise of food. He makes some thoughtful sound at what has been created for him. His tone turns somewhat favorable as he takes one of the chips to dip. ] I grew up in a lakeside town, so it'd be a bit much if I was allergic to seafood. [ Could Vincent have just said he isn't? Yes. Would he? No.
He takes a bite and hums thoughtfully. He seems relatively all right with what he has gone and eats another chip before rolling his eyes. ] Maybe they deserve to feel bad. [ Vincent replies back in a much more mocking tone. Another chip eaten. ]
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[Vander felt no need to debate on the comment of him seeming nice. That was the point; it was the appearance that he put up, and he did it well. Oh, he was nice enough and knew his way around situations and could pull information out of people and lend an ear to their wants, needs and desires, but there was a selfish element of it as it was with anyone else. The dismissiveness didn't produce a reaction in him either; it wasn't the first disparagement of niceties that he had experienced and wouldn't be the last.
He huffed a sound of amusement as he leaned back in his chair and sipped from his whiskey bottle again.]
Delegation broadens community and disseminates information. It means the house of cards doesn't collapse when the card with all the structural integrity fails. Though, perhaps with gods it's different, who am I to judge as a mere mortal? [There was a hint of sarcasm at the very end. Sorry, inside joke.
A lake town, huh? He knew a few other people claiming the same, one of which he happened to have developed closeness too. Those two also seemed... well, close was the wrong word but clearly friendly. Maybe they came from the same lakeside town. They probably did knowing how Etraya recruitment seemed to function.]
Stranger things have likely happened, I imagine. Nice to see that you'll eat what I cook at least. Made it just for you. [It had been slow the last hour, so what else was he going to do? It wasn't as if he could thieve or curate a black market here since everything everyone wanted was a request away. Food it was.]
That's not an argument to the point.
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[ Yet his insides are far too rotten to be able to know what to do with how sorry he feels. If he feels particularly moved, he might attempt to manipulate the person into living a better life by his standards. But that is really the extent he can see himself caring. Well, that and possibly offering them a chance to join the Order. ]
Exactly. Who are you to judge? [ Yet again he's making that dismissive wave of his hand as he ignores the statements that he made. ] God isn't like a house of cards.
[ His tone is just mildly dismissive than irritated or angry. As he had said before, being mad is a useless emotion. Another chip with dip eaten. Munch, munch, munch. The oppressiveness of the dark is a comfort. It helps to keep his head feeling clear as he listens to what he has to say: ]
Yes, yes, thank you. I thank you. [ He bows his head slightly before he puts a little more dip on a chip to munch. ]
I'm telling you there's no point to anger. [ Casually, he repeats himself. ] Especially to powerless people. It just wastes our energy when we could be doing something else with our time.
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[He set an arm across the back of his chair as he continued to observe Vincent in the dim light of the cafe. Neither one of them had bothered to shut the front door, but he didn't expect anyone out to overhear their conversation.]
Isn't it? I expect their institutions can be, and if they preside over them directly, well... [There were plenty of times in Runeterra when so called gods were stepping into mortal lives for one reason or another. This all seemed convoluted as most religions were. Yet, he was open to debate.
He was waiting for the punchline that was useful for powerful people to be able to loose their anger upon others. He doubted that was the point being made here though.] Yet everyone experiences anger in one form or another. Bottling it up isn't healthy. [Pot, this is the kettle calling.] What else would you prefer to be doing after someone had made serious grievance against you? Turn the other cheek?
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[ Back to eating his chips and dip; it's chewing and crunching and being a general irritant (or so he assumes) before and after each statement or question that he is given. He does pause to wiggle his fingers over the box of wine to take a sip or two. ]
Fine! I suppose I have to concede and say that God did create lesser Gods. [ He flicks his fingers to the side. ] Lobsel Vith, the Yellow God. Xuchilbara, the Red God. Xuchilpaba. And Valtiel. [ He chuckles to himself. ] I've seen the last one. Although, he does not desire to speak to me. [ Making a soft meh sound, he moves on. ] There are also a few angels, but -- [ His shoulder lifts in a shrug. ]
But God is God, though, and ultimately decides the fate of the soul.
[ And he pauses to suck on one finger before answering his question. ] I don't bottle it up. I just don't feel it for long. [ He makes a face like -- that's different. ] I don't know -- not spend my days fixating on the people who hurt me like some crying, whining child in the dark.
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[Vander was not at all irritated by Vincent. This remained some polite company compared to the sort that wandered in his door, and if anything, the noisy eating actually more reminded him of home. He did miss it honestly, and to that, he did take a small sip from his whiskey bottle before resting it on his thigh as he continued to watch Vincent across the table from him.
Those names sounded very arbitrary, and he did wonder if the other man was pulling his leg. Vincent didn't seem like a man who had an actual sense of humor thus far, but perhaps it was all a carefully constructed act.] And what does Valtail look and act like? [He messed up the name pronunciation. Excuse him.] It does sound like the realm of gods is more cluttered than you first led me to believe.
[It wasn't different, but he did value someone that could just let such emotion go. For him, he pushed it down. Way down, and then he had to hope he found a different outlet for it otherwise it might explode out of him.] Interesting. That's a rarity to do, especially given human nature to nurse slights.
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[ He wiggles his fingers every so often as he grabs a new chip or going to get some more dip for himself. ] Valtiel. [ He corrects, surprisingly without that much annoyance in his voice. ] He crawls along the dark and through the walls. His shape is not something the eyes can perceive and body trembles through reality. [ Flicking his wrist, he digs some more chips and grumbles, but doesn't comment further. Saying why the realm of God is so cluttered would make him sound insane. ]
Yes, well, people will find any reason to hate someone. [ He pauses to take a drink as he wonders if anyone hates him. He doesn't think that he's worth it, and so he doubts that anyone does actually hate him. ] Save for me since it's hardly worth anyone's time to hate me.
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[He considered, repeating the name several times until he had spoken it correctly. He appreciated the patience on Vincent's end for that.] That sounds like it would create quite the fright to encounter. What is Valtiel a lesser god of? [He expected there were plenty of details, but he didn't mind the evasiveness. Vincent clearly was trying to set a particular impression on him. See? Practically friendship.]
That's because we manipulate a perception of caution to 'other' others and pick out their differences as if they are dangerous. It's a survival mechanism on some level. [He was rather nonchalant about it. He was used to being hated for many reasons, and sometimes from people who had never met him in the first place.] Yet, you contend people have a negative opinion of you. That seems contrary, since negativity can lead down the path of hate easily enough.
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[ His face scrunches up in confusion at the idea that it would be frightening to encounter him. ] It's best to consider Valtiel as a governing angel. There's nothing frightening about him. [ Involuntarily, he rests his palm against one eye, pressing his glasses against his face. He remembers the fear he felt when he came to this Etraya; he thought God had descended and awaited judgement. But that isn't Valtiel. His hand drops away. ]
It could, yes, but thankfully, I'm a pathetic man who people would find tiresome to hate. They'll come to the unfortunate realization that it's pointless to hate me. [ He flicks his hand to the side. ] Killing me is even more of a waste of everyone's time. It wouldn't even be enjoyable. [ And he bites a chip in half. ]
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[Eh, he had the sneaking suspicion that Vincent's version of 'nothing frightening' and everyone else's may be different. Of course, who was he to tell? He was used to things lurking in the dark meant to frighten.] I see. I'll take your word for it, as I highly doubt that I'll have the pleasure of his company in this place. [That left him wondering what Vincent was afraid of, if anything at all.]
You haven't met some truly spiteful people, have you? For some, the ability to hate is like a passion project they invest all of their time and energy into. [He knew at least one in the Lanes that would hate Vincent just to prove that it was possible long-term. People were contrary after all. They didn't like to be told what they couldn't do.] You're rather flippant about the idea of being killed.
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It certainly is doubtful. [ He wouldn't want to invoke his presence, anyway. He just happened to be fine with existing in the same space as Valtiel. It would be sacrilegious and blasphemous to think otherwise. As he carries on with the conversation, his mind is already going through Scripture and rites -- repeating to himself how terrible it would be to not welcome Valtiel. ]
Oh, yes, I have. It's just I know how to act if it ends up being that sort of situation. [ He tilts his head and gives a smile. His final prayer finishes in his head. ] I've died months ago. What am I going to do? Mourn my death forever? [ He built a bridge and got over it. ]
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So, here we are, right? Just two guys sitting in a closed café we happened to break into for a middle-of-the-night chat. [And hopefully at no point tonight would either he nor Vincent be visited by any otherworldly entity. It would definitely disrupt the vibe that they currently had at the very least.]
And how is that? [He was delighted to hear that Vincent was nonplussed by such people. This man truly was interesting, if all this talk was in fact also a reality.] Hardly. I assume that you learned something from it and moved on.
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[ But he drops his arms soon after so he can start scooping out more of the dip and chips. Each time he eats, he wiggles his fingers. ] Isn't it cozy? Truly one of life's few pleasures that we have in life. Doing crime in a place without a society.
[ He chuckles to himself. ] Oh, you know -- whining, sniveling, bending oneself over backwards while apologizing on one's knees. [ He flicks his fingers over the dip. ] I value myself much more than whatever pride or ego I might have. If it takes debasing myself to survive, I don't see any reason why I need to hold my head up high.
[ A flicking finger toward Vander. ] You should write that down. [ And he smiles before continuing: ] I learned something I suppose. But it's mostly that it was just... unproductive to my plans to keep being upset about dying. We're alive now... what are people going to do? Hold us a funeral so we can feel better?
[ He holds his hands out to him. ] There are things to do. [ He claps his hands together, sharp, violent. ] Nothing else to do but move on.
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