etrayalogs | [ closed ] you see a man

You seem nice. Nice people find all sorts of reasons to feel sympathetic to people who don't want it.

[ 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. ]

So you disagree with empathy directed in your direction. What about empathy for others beyond yourself?

[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.

Because a person can't have empathy or sympathy for me. [ It's said less as a complaint but more of a stated fact. His eyebrows furrow in confusion at the idea that anyone would. ] I can feel sorry for the fact people's life as terrible, I suppose.

[ 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.

I don't think you're in a position to dictate how others feel about you. That's not your right, but I expect you can manufacture the emotional response you want with certain behaviours. [Vander expected that some perceptive folks would see through that though, and they would want to dig into the reasons behind the displays. That's what he would do.] Everyone has their own problems and deal with them; it often takes very little to offer support now and again.

[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?

As the person who has to "accept" the feelings others have for me, I think I am in the perfect position to dictate how people feel about me. [ But he does scrunch his face up at Vander's point that he attempts to manufacture how people feel about him. ] It depends on the percentage how much help I offer, if any.

[ 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.

On the contrary, you don't have to accept anything, but they have a right to feel as they do based on their impressions of you. [The corner of his lip rose in a faint smile at the look that Vincent's expression took on.] Is that so? You honestly are a numbers guy while doubling as a man of faith.

[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.

I believe most impressions towards me are negative so -- [ His hands open as he's doing a universal gesture for "what." He can't imagine someone actually feeling sympathy for him. ] -- Yes. And yes. I thought you already understood this about me.

[ 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.

And I expect you prefer it that way in order to keep people from trying to get to know you and perhaps discover something likable about you. [Vander was once again reminded of the question "who hurt you?" when it came to his interactions with Vincent. From behind his drink, he smirked a little.] I did, yes. However, repeating observations can be a tactic to convince people to offer more.

[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.

If someone finds something likable about me, I'm going to ask what they're trying to sell. [ Vincent is self-aware of all his flaws and mannerisms. He lightly scratches his forehead as he dismisses the idea of someone liking him. The very idea makes his skin crawl. ] Oh, you want me to explain more? About numbers or religion?

[ 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. ]

Oh you're not so bad so far. Of course, I assume from now on that you'll do your exceptional best to change my opinion. [There were some rather crusty and rude people in the undercity, and that kind of unlikeable crassness was endearing if one knew how to handle it. He had not yet suffered personal insult from Vincent yet, so that was actually a step up from a few people he had met here.] I wouldn't decline either subject, no.

[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.

No, I think just continuing to spend time with me will change your opinion. [ Vincent doesn't doubt that will be enough to alter Vander's view, if the man is not just giving him lip service as of right now. ] Well, numbers is always the easier one to talk about. [ Religion tends to get him into some deep waters. ]

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. ]

That's a remarkable amount of self confidence when it comes to degrading yourself. It's too bad you don't actually control my emotions. [He was genuinely curious what it was that Vincent would do to attempt or succeed at turning his opinion. So far, there were mostly contentious potential topics but otherwise, Vincent seemed about as normal as a regular Zaunite?] So let's talk religion. I never was one for easy. [It sounded like there was an option.]

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.

[ He rests his elbows on the surface of the table and makes a ehhh noise as he doesn't know how else to respond to Vander saying Vincent doesn't control the man's emotions. Gently pushing his glasses up, he exhales a long sigh: ] All right, let's talk religion.

[ 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.

[Vander watched Vincent, nodding his head in agreement about the topic of tonight's entertainment: religion. He knew that Vincent also had a keen interest in Kindred, which he expected he would divulge to keep the conversation one of giving between them.

He tilted his head at the introduction. Was Vincent talking about his home? There was a lot of crime, and people did relish that aspect of their freedom even if it came with its own manner of oppression. Were all worlds like that though? Rampant with crime and culture and oppression?] Are you talking about your home then? Or Etraya? Most places will create a sense of community eventually after all.

[He shrugged his shoulders; he still hadn't entirely determined his own fate even though he called himself dead. His life as he had once known it was definitely over. It was complicated.] I can't say I care much for funerals. Maybe a little monument for a small time that will fade away or be replaced in time.

[He watched Vincent.] Is that what your religion tells you to do? Move on?

I'm talking about here, of course.

[ He flicks his fingers off to the side. Some bot in the morning is going to have to clean up flecks of dip off the surface of the table and floor -- and not feel anything about it because it's a bot. ]

I'm not even sure I would like that, but -- [ Vincent flicks his fingers yet again. There isn't much that is left of what he's eating but he did enjoy it for what it was. ] It seems you aren't a bad chef, at least. So maybe they'll remember you for that, Vander. [ He's funny. ]

As I told you, death is considered a miracle. We do not fear death.

[Vander nodded at the confirmation, so he could adjust himself to the proper context of what they were discussing here. He took a sip from his bottle of whiskey, noting the crumbs making their way off the table. It should annoy him as someone who frequently cleaned up the messes of others, but he wouldn't waste time on that here.]

As in, you feel like it is pointless for people to remember you in a physical way? How do you feel about people talking about you, your deeds or your memory? [He nodded his head, following the jumping conversation topics without much discomfort.] That's not what I'll be remembered for, but thank you.

[A miracle, huh? Well, he supposed that Kindred might also feel that way; he wouldn't know.] Most people fear death in some capacity. There is a healthy fear of the unknown, of losing influence and permanence.

I don't think I've done enough to be remembered by anyone.

[ Vincent has thought about it, though. If things had been different, if he never came to this place, he would've just been a footnote in Heather's life. A man that she met and watch die. Something she would've eventually moved past, and that would be the end of him being remembered. His name possibly even forgotten.

He didn't feel anything about that revelation then, and he doesn't feel anything about that knowledge at present. ]

Well, you're welcome, I suppose.

[ He opens his hands as he gestures above his head. ] Most people with religion believe their God will welcome them at the time of death. There's a sort of -- [ He rolls his wrist in the air. ] -- peaceful connotation to death when you have a sense of what is to come next. [ He pauses to push his glasses up, feeling them yet again slip down. ]

Immortality is considered a punishment, not a boon.

You don't think, huh? Would it bother you if you went away and people remembered you?

[He currently planning on inquiry with Maria about Vincent when the time was right, but at this point, he wanted to discover what he could about the man and formulate his own opinions. He did not yet have a sense of what Vincent was actually fighting for, if anything at all. Clearly the man had opinions.

He had never thought much about what his death would mean or where he would go. There were means that he had heard about in whispers at darkened trader tables of how people escaped death. It had all seemed like certain myth, yet every good story had a kernel of truth even if it was so twisted up that it hardly looked like itself anymore.]

Indeed. It assuages the fear of the unknown to believe there is something beyond the veil of death.] With your God, what awaits you on the other side of that veil? Rebirth, purgatory, heaven, hell? Or perhaps a sense of peaceful isolation?

[He went quiet and still at that, wondering if he could die.] I suppose immortality would make you a monster of sorts.

Yes.

[ He rubs the area on his nose that the pads of his glasses rest on. It pushes his glasses up as his fingers gently massage the area before he moves his hand. And then has to adjust his glasses once more. ]

When you die, the way you're remembered is a story anyone can make about you. You have no way to alter their warped perceptions. Everything about you can end up being changed to fit some ideal or curse that someone decides for you.

[ Vincent would rather die in obscurity than allow something like that to happen to him. Even if he was idealized, he would be irritated. ]

Paradise awaits. Resurrection is horrific, but rebirth is not. [ He holds his hands up to indicate the difference. ] However, God does not want to send Her people back, but have us join her. [ Kicking and screaming, too. ]

It means that you haven't completed your true penance and have to keep living until you have learned what you need to learn. [ He flicks his wrist to the side, dismissive. ] It's a lesson and a punishment.

Well, history is written by the victors.

[He would allow Vincent that point, but Vander quite frankly didn't care about his legacy or how he was spoken. He had done his best and then died trying to save his daughter; for him, that would always be enough for him. How he was remembered by that was for other people to decide. He was dead, so what did he care?]

Yeah well, there are sometimes a lack of choices when it comes to the permanence of one's demise, I expect. Every place as its own rules surrounding it, and even then, there will always be someone or someone's looking to pervert it. [He brought his bottle to his lips and took a longer than necessary drag from it. He could use a smoke, he thought.] Oh does She? And what does Paradise look like for you with your God, hmm?

[He forced himself to shrug his shoulders. He wondered about the truth of that statement after all that he had done in his life. Maybe Vincent was onto something.] So your religion is about punishment and lessons then?

[ Vincent makes a noise in the back of his throat but considers the question prompted to him answered.

His hand lifts and he slaps it on top of the surface of the table. ] I've answered enough of your questions. Start talking about your myths regarding death. [ Because the Paradise he sees isn't something an outsider would understand. It's the oppressive, suffocating weight of his home; nothing coming in; nothing leaving. ]

For the most part, but so is Catholicism. [ His shoulders shrug yet again and he slaps the table in front of Vander once more. ]

[Vander paused in taking a sip from his bottle at the sudden slap, raising his thick eyebrow in inquiry. He didn't think the Paradise question was too invasive, but he knew a dodge when he saw one. He filed away that subject to broach at a different time or perhaps with a different person.

He made a noise in his throat.] The Lamb and the Wolf, huh? They go by many names depending on the culture, but they are the same. [He set his bottle on the table and suddenly sat forward. Vander had always been a talented storyteller.] The Kindred by some, The Taker, the Eternal Hunters, the Grey Man even...

They operate together, appearing to kill those whose time it is. The Lamb is said to use a bow that provides a swift and clean death for those that accept it is their time. The Wolf hunts down those that run from their fate and tears them apart, a violent and terrifying finality. [His voice had dropped low as if providing secretive information, as if even speaking of Kindred might bring it here to be among them.]

Some places worship the Lamb for its mercy. Some worship the Wolf for its violence.

[ Vincent props his elbow on the table; he lightly taps his fingers against his chin. His expression sours as he feels how wet his own fingers are but whatever. He's going to use the back of his hand to clean off where he touched. ]

Hmmm. [ His eyes close as he appreciates this story and the theatrics that go into it, but only just. Sounds like the Sect of Valtiel. Those that worship the Wolf for its violence. ]

Unfortunate, they really do need a third option of worship. [ He lightly scratches the side of his face. ] After all, wouldn't those that worship the Lamb be in opposition to those that worship the Wolf? Even if they are both aspects of Death?

[ A hum. ] It seems like there needs to be a third to act as intermediary. [ Funny enough -- the Sect of Valtiel was the intermediary between his sect and the others. The executioners who believed in maintaining balance as God would will it. ]

[He did wait for Vincent's assessment and critique; he couldn't say that he had met either part of the Kindred when he had died. Maybe it happened too fast and that part of his memory was blanked. He knew he accepted his death when he struck the ground. Then again, had he truly died? He didn't know and there was no one to ask.]

Wouldn't the third option to worship both? They are the same entity, just operate at different sides of the scale. [He would think that some would want those who deserved a quick quiet death to have that option and those who were deemed deserving of a violent death to experience that. Together, never apart.]

From what I understand, Noxus only believes in the wolf. The wolf's strength, viciousness and capabilities. They are a warring nation, so most of their deaths are probably violent in some way. [He shrugged his shoulders. History had told him that Noxus was not a place to mess around with.]

Each nation believes differently. I don't know all their lore and belief systems, only hear tidbits from traveling merchants, traders and curious tourists.

That might very well be the third option. [ Worshiping them both. ] People really don't know how to make different sects anymore, do they?

[ His hand flicks side to side, not dismissively but irritated. ] They're worshiping the wrong one. You know that right? The warring one should kneel to the Lamb over the Wolf. [ Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms as he can't help but shake his head. ]

I suppose that's fair and right, though, that you'd only know so much. It seems like you might be one that worships both. Which makes you a lovely intermediary to those who can't even figure things out right. [ He pauses to uncross his arms so he can push his glasses up. ]

But, really, peaceful areas should worship that which brings violence, because it'll promise something to those that may threaten. Warring should worship peace otherwise they're little more than deranged lunatics seeking violence over control. [ He tilts his head to the side. ]

[ closed ] you see a man

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