skippedabeat | Round 3: Test Drive

Entry tags:

test drive

Round 3: Test Drive

Welcome to the third test drive!

Please don't worry too much about using your Personas correctly or following the prompts exactly. They're meant to give you starting ideas, but by all means, go wild and add more options!

The objective here is to try out characters and see who you could have the most fun with in the game's setting. However, feel free to follow this link to request a Persona be generated for you as if you were part of the game. (Please try to limit this to only one of your test drive characters if you can as to not overwhelm us!)

If you have questions about the test drive itself, you can ask them here! If you want to play an AU don't forget this entire post can be used for you to get AU scenarios set up and see who your character might have been related too or know before Awakening.

Now then, let's begin...

Prompt 1 - The National Leviathan Habitat

Eddan's shimmering sapphire of an aquarium, the National Leviathan Habitat, is holding a series of special events at its location in Royal Mount. Students and family groups get half off, with certain events being completely free. This include a full night's stay at the aquarium sometime during the week for any person who checks in with their card. While spots are limited, it's such a large aquarium, and nights can be booked in advance, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. So come, everyone! Enjoy whale spotting, aquarium strolling, educational shows, and a night surrounded by water. However, unknown to you, something else might be starting to beat in the deepest, darkest depths of your heart.

Similar to the flower festival that was used in the prior TDM, Unawakened characters can get a flash of memory sometime during this prompt and Awakened characters will be able to occasionally pick them out. For more information on the National Leviathan Habitat, which is a player introduced location, please check here.

Additionally, if both test drive player and game players agree, the aquarium test drive threads can also become game canon! As long as the test drive character is played as being completely unaware of what has happened in the game up to this point. Keep in mind that they would NOT have had a message on their phones. Two Test drive players can also make these game canon if they get accepted (and they keep the same requirements as above).

Prompt 2 - From Dawn to Dusk

The city has been abuzz for the past few weeks. A new string of murders is making front page news and serving as a grim reminder why the nightly curfew is so important. As families, perhaps even someone close to you, mourn, pressure continues to rise at the many police stations and at city hall. The people are afraid and they’re demanding answers.

There's not much time for you to dwell on this.. Like everyone else in the city, you have a lot to do, and a tight schedule to do it in, even on summer vacation. (Or maybe because of summer vacation for the local schools.) You don't even notice the application that has appeared on your phone's screen. The headache that follows, however, is strange and disorienting, and it brings with it an odd sensation that something is wrong today. You’re just not sure why.

The day passes by and soon, it's close to midnight. Your body, if you're not in bed by now, is completely exhausted. Despite your best efforts, you'll find yourself closing your eyes. Too bad it's quickly interrupted by a strange noise, and movement like something pulsating softly.

It's your phone, or at least you think it's your phone, but it's never glowed this orange before. There’s mist rising above it almost like fire...something's definitely bizarre about this. Despite your fears, you forces yourself to open it, and click on that strange snake-like icon.

It opens revealing a single statement and blank box;

To begin, please write your name.

Your fingers move on their own. Before you have time to really think about it, and as the pain inside your head becomes so terrible you start breathing rapidly and sweating, you've entered a series of letters and pressed enter. Now you're in a large chatroom with many others...but your 'name' you've never even heard of it...have you? It almost feels like you have...

Prompt 3 - Awakening

The last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon almost an hour ago, yet here you are, walking through the apple orchards located behind one of the campus wings. The strange app that's been sending you strange clues the past seven days now says you're ready to face the truth. It told you to come here tonight, but never to travel alone. Repeatedly, it warns you to make sure to have someone close by if you're to survive…but besides some friends, what else did you bring with you? Did you pack for this, or did you figure you'd make it up as you go? Are you in a position to be able to bring weapons with you that no one would suspect?

Something is out there, and it's getting closer.

Before you can think, you see it: a large, blackish mass, almost like slime, slithering along the ground resembling a vaguely humanoid shape with glowing yellow eyes. When it roars again, it reveals rows and rows of teeth. This was a mistake your brain warns. The strange name from the chatroom, the days leading up to this...you're fairly certain even if you are prepared that you're going to die.

And yet, something inside you stirs. Even as they move closer, you find yourself charging instead of running, as your heartbeat increases. A voice inside is guiding you, each movement bringing forth a surge of memories of a past that you had lost. You’re angry and confused, but your pain, your fears, your rage for all of this… all of that needs to be taken out on those creatures.

All you need to do now is to tear out your heart.

Prompt 4 - A new, old life

Now that you have your memories back, the strange veil of this world has been somewhat lifted. Things that seemed simple now seem strange. You have so many questions, but not enough answers. Then there's the new weapons you wield and the strange creature inside of you...your Heart Persona.

During the day, you are encouraged to continue to live as you did before, but with old and new memories together, sometimes it is difficult to keep acting like you did. Will it cause issues in your job or school life? Will it change your reactions to whatever life you had here? Do you notice others like you who have awakened?

Maybe it would be a good time to send a chatroom message, just to ask others what they are planning to do. Maybe you should set up a meeting to fight shadows at night. Maybe you’ll organize a plan of attack or set up a club to escape the strange looks others have been giving you. Maybe you just want someone's opinion on the best place to have pizza. Hey, no one said you had to use the AppleNET just for serious things, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[again with the unnecessary plant analogies. he can't help but wonder if the juvenile detention center Kit had spent his time in possessed a library filled with nothing but botany texts. he'd have to ask Styx about it the next time they had practice.

his hand rises up to mirror his companion's, brows crinkling gently in confusion. when his fingers come into contact with something sticky it pulls another laugh from him even as he does nothing to staunch the bleeding or wipe it off.]

It's nothing I can't handle.

[a light-hearted jab, but still an ironic echo of Kit's own words all the same. there were a great number of people who paid to see looks like this in the black metal community; it seemed a bit wasteful to banish it over something as trivial as health concerns. if he couldn't deal with something like this then he deserved to pass out.]

I'm not going back to the dorms anyway, so you'd be a busybody and wrong if you dragged me there.

[he inclines his head slightly, indicating the landing above him and the doors to the lobby. if Kit thought that he wasn't stubborn and bratty enough to hold onto his displeasure over the piercing joke, he's in for a rude awakening now.]

[And Styx would be able to report that there had in fact been a library on site, though not one stocked with the sort of material most people liked to read. Nevertheless, after the first two months of his stay at the detention center, Kit could hardly be found without a book in his face. He was always reading something, though anything to do with plants seemed to be a favorite, especially for his ability to put much of his knowledge to use working on the property's gardens.

That was about the time he'd started to change. It was slow at first, many of his wilder tendencies not yet weeded out, and several fights and incidents transpired. Then, by half a year, he'd seemed to find a level of control over himself and his actions that many of his peers didn't care to possess.

Still he read. Books about gardening and wildlife, psychology and history, even familiarizing himself with law and aesthetic practices such as cosmetology and sewing. By the end of his year-long stay at the center for juvenile delinquents, it was quite possible he'd read every single book in the facility's library...and forced one of his roommates to do the same, typically rewarding him with some form of physical training. He hadn't lied when he said he hadn't fought seriously in a while. Not for lack of people wanting to pick fights with him, but for lack of anyone worth going all out against.

Maybe that was even what triggered the change. The one person he spent time training with was very childlike at times, not the sort of person Kit felt inclined to bloody. On the contrary...there'd even been times when he'd stood up for the other boy, always telling himself that it wasn't sentimental, it was only a matter of protecting his territory.

He got the impression with Vincent that he didn't need to be so careful, however.]

Of course.

[Hearing in Vincent's words an echo of his own was something Kit could handle. Truth be told, though they hadn't known each other for very long, that seemed just the sort of thing the smaller boy would do and say. There was no cause here for concern. Whether Vincent wanted to go back to the sleeping quarters or head above to the lobby, it was his choice and his alone.]

Then...don't get eaten before our paths cross again.

[Even turning caused his body to protest, but the pain didn't show upon his face until Vincent could only see his back. And, with a rather tired wave, he announced his departure.

This was fine...]

Worry about yourself first. The dying emit a stronger stench.

[it's a rather macabre choice in how to part ways with someone, especially when the intention is to caution them to be careful during their return trip, but somehow it seems to suit Vincent perfectly. he doesn't return the other boy's wave, but Kit may catch the soft inclination of his head out of the corner of his eye if he's fast enough.

there had been flashes of concern earlier, but he doesn't feel any of them now. the sleeping quarters weren't that far off. his companion would make it there without issue, or else be found quickly enough to prevent any real harm. things were back to the usual, with Vincent's thoughts mostly preoccupied with just himself.

he mounts the rest of the stairs at a leisurely pace, taking his time now that there aren't any prying eyes to put up a front for. the idea of sleeping on a bench or the floor isn't exactly thrilling, but it's far and away better than having to return to the same room as the constant reminder of that fucking laughter.

by the time he manages to hobble through the lobby doors, he suspects that the discomfort of his future 'beds' won't be able to stand up against the lethal mixture of fatigue and soreness. reaching the trash bin to toss his soda can alone is a herculean effort, one from which he seriously considers simply not returning at all. only the proximity to the soft glow of the vending machine dissuades him.

truth be told, he couldn't help feeling a little nostalgic as he painfully settled himself down onto one of the benches scattered throughout the lobby. few things in his life had been premeditated, chief among those his departure from home. there had been no safe haven waiting for his stormy presence, and the shift from home to his current place of residence had been nothing but rocky. it was a reminder of what he's managed to defeat in his life already, wrapped up in a slightly more palatable bow.

there was nothing in this world capable of cowing him. Kit Florentine was no exception.

unfortunately, it seemed that his own body was interested in making a bid for the title anyway. the minutes drag by into hours as he tries and fails to fall asleep, constantly hounded by the throbbing of his own flesh - and the general uneasiness he felt whenever he glanced too long at the lobby doors.

time after time he runs through the same cycle of rising from the bench, wandering idly, then trying to stretch out on a clean-looking patch of floor before giving up and returning to his original resting place. it's maddening, but he refuses to give in. after several hours pass he at last manages to induce something vaguely resembling a doze, his surroundings fading away into nothing more than a hazy suggestion as idle thoughts and memories of headache visions stretch out in his mind...]

[Kit's return to the Leviathan Habitat's dormitory was not as swift as he would have preferred, but it was pleasantly uneventful. Somehow, his altercation with that nameless boy in the stairwell hadn't drawn any attention from other guests or security, so it wasn't until he reached his room that he even saw anyone else — and they were fast asleep.

There was nothing more that Kit would have liked to do than sleep, too. His head felt as though it consisted entirely of fragmented bone, pain, and fatigue. How there was room left at all for any coherent thought was anyone's guess, especially as he planted himself near one of the viewing windows and, for what must have been hours, watched a cloud of jellyfish swim like undulating sea ghosts in water so blue there were times he wondered if he could be dreaming wide awake.

He wasn't, of course. He knew this for a fact when, every now and again, he caught himself thinking back to the other teen who had yet to return to their room. As explosive as their exchange had been, and completely unpredictable, Kit had enjoyed the company. Of course, he hadn't fully realized that until they'd gone their separate ways, and all he could do now was sit and wonder...

Was he alright? Had the bleeding stopped? He couldn't be comfortable, not even with being able to sprawl on the public benches in the lobby. But, if he would rather have gone there, and by himself, he must have had a reason. In hindsight, Kit decided that he shouldn't have laughed so much at the humorous way in which the other teen's lost piercing had been recovered. Vincent's choice to stay behind was likely Kit's fault.

And that made it his responsibility to do more than sit and wonder if Vincent was okay, too.

He wasn't sure of the time anymore, and didn't bother to check before grabbing his jacket and leaving. The extra layer helped fend off the chill in the hall that was either the result of the building's air conditioning or his not sleeping, and was especially appreciated once he reached the empty and concrete stairwell.

After a few hours of letting his body rest, ascending to the lobby was not as difficult a task as he anticipated. Still, he took his time, listening intently to the floors above and below for any sounds that might indicate activity. From either direction, it seemed the whole world was unconscious...

And Vincent among them, Kit noted as he came to stand in the lobby doors. That small, dark figure stood out even in the dimly-lit lobby, the faint glow of the vending machines casting soft lights over his form and outlining him as a thing very much out of place in a room otherwise devoid of living things. Ficus in the corner excluded.

He'd been worried over nothing...worried for someone he barely even knew.

How hard had he hit his head?]

[the clatter of ascending footsteps pull Vincent's consciousness away from the haggard faces of hateful old women and back into the present once more. it hadn't been much of a rest, all things considered, but it was still the closest he'd gotten to sleeping in several hours, and he feels an immediate pang of displeasure at having been jarred out of it.

it's something that he doesn't take the time to ruminate on thanks to the source of the noise which had woken him. the strange trepidation with which he still couldn't help viewing the stairwell had never quite faded, and although he knows that some supernatural threat was all but impossible - well. everything became just a bit more possible when you were by yourself in a dark room.

instead of jolting upright with a curse or punch as he usually did, he remains horizontal as the steps slow and the sound of the doors opening waft through the lobby. with even breathing and his eyes still shut, it was impossible to uncover the ruse from such a distance. at least until -]

So you're just going to wake me up and run off?

That depends...

[His hands folded neatly into the pockets of his jacket, Kit proceeded slowly through the lobby doors and toward the center of the room. With his presence having been so plainly addressed, there was no point in hanging back and pretending he'd never been there.]

Were you really sleeping to begin with?

[He had to wonder, after all. He knew his footsteps weren't as quiet as they'd been earlier, prior to their coming to blows, but if those alone had woken Vincent, what did that say about how comfortably he was resting? Or how agitated he might still be?

If it were him attempting to sleep alone in this lobby after what he'd experienced just beyond those doors, he was certain he would be restless, too.]

No, I was just making sure my eyelids still worked.

[said eyelids crack open so that Vincent can shoot the other boy a proper sardonic look to go with that little rebuke. that he was struggling enough as it was before the appearance of outside interference is something that he feels is best kept to himself.

as Kit approaches he finally moves to sit up, exhaling deeply as he pulls himself into something more closely resembling a sitting position. even with his frequent changes in location he'd somehow managed to get a nasty crick in his neck from all these hard, uncomfortable surfaces. just what he needed.]

And what about you? Already regretting not buying something for yourself before?

[they both already know the real answer to this question. Vincent just wants to see what excuse he'll end up spitting out.]

[A barely audible sound of amusement escapes Kit. It was satisfying to know that, regardless of how sore or poorly rested he was, Vincent's caustic wit remained intact.

Never mind that it was the same sort of brusque humor that had contributed to him losing his patience earlier, because the other contributing factor was no longer present. Not yet, anyway.

Glancing back at the doorway as if to confirm the absence of that something, Kit gently shook his head.]

Not really. I still couldn't sleep.

[...if for a different reason this time.]

You're heavier than you look. When you landed on top of me, I hit my head a lot harder than I expected.

[so that invisible presence was still haunting Kit's night as well. he doesn't acknowledge that he's caught the other teen's furtive check of the doorway, but it makes him feel a bit better. his restlessness wasn't without reason.]

You're lucky that's the worst you got from underestimating me.

[Vincent is a great many more things than he looks, although he knows that his stature will always be at the top of people's lists. it's gratifying to know that with the help of gravity he could concuss someone - and a bit concerning, although that trepidation will never see the light of day.

instead he inclines his head - slowly, because it still aches when he moves too quickly - to indicate the small amount of free space his rising up has created on the bench. he could certainly be sitting in a more thoughtful configuration for sharing, but that was nothing more than a pipe dream. Kit should feel lucky he's making this offer, oblique as it was, at all.]

Might as well sit down if you're going to keep me up. If you crack your skull a second time it'll probably split open.

Luck had little to do with it.

[Choosing to accept the offered seat, Kit lowered himself down upon the bench next to Vincent, taking up no more space than that which was made available.

He was grateful for being able to get off his feet. The brief period of sleepless rest he'd had earlier had eased the majority of his bodily aches, but after having climbed those stairs again and exerting still-strained parts of himself, he'd felt exhaustion return almost ten fold.]

I'm confident that if you'd truly wanted to do me harm, you wouldn't have stopped when you did.

[The same could be said for him, really. If he'd truly wanted to run Vincent into the ground...he'd had all the opportunity he required to pull it off. He simply hadn't wanted to. Utilizing tools and tricks in order to win was one thing, but relying on accidents was another. He had his pride. He didn't wish for any victory to be a fluke, whether or not it was his.

Speaking of their fall, however...

Kit's glance wandered away from the door and back to his lounging companion.]

My skull is fine. If you recall, I wasn't the one who was bleeding everywhere.

[ah, the blood. Kit really seemed to be fixated on that, didn't he? the observation coaxes a silent wave of amusement to ride across his face for a brief moment.

it's timed impeccably well to coincide with his companion's investigative gaze, and that's perhaps for the best. at some point during the long hours of Kit's absence his injury has finally stopped bleeding; however, in that time he's also made absolutely no attempt to clean it up, leaving a face streaked and smeared in dried blood. he must look absolutely ghastly.

it's a pretty comforting thought.]

Internal injuries are always worse. They let you fool yourself into thinking you're fine.

[and then they let you hang yourself by moving forward as if nothing had happened, pulling the noose tighter with each energetic step of illusory life. it was one of the cruelest ways to fall.]

I'm not made of glass like some people; I won't bleed out from a couple scratches.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned.

[With good reason, Kit supposed. If there was nothing else between them, they still had their promise. Making good on that pact to fight one another seriously in the future would require them both to keep in good health. As such, bleeding internally would be unacceptable.

It was also not an issue. Kit might have been concerned if that haunting and otherworldly feeling he'd experienced after had only started after his fall and Vincent hadn't shown signs of being just as disturbed as him, but that wasn't the case. His speech was not slurred, he was not suffering from impaired vision, and he hadn't passed out yet or slipped into a coma. He was alright. As alright as anyone could expect to be after receiving a concussion.

Happily, Kit saw that Vincent was equally well. Despite the crusting of dried blood smeared across his face, a look that wasn't near as ghastly as Kit was sure Vincent might have liked, he seemed to be in fine condition. Or, as fine as sleeping on benches might have allowed anyone to feel.

Neither of them were at risk of blindly charging toward death. For the time being.]

In any case, I'm glad. But you're not going to be much use in a fight if this is how you treat yourself.

[He patted the arm of the bench for emphasis. How was Vincent going to be at his best if he refused to get proper rest?]

You don't know better.

[the correction is immediate and made without even really thinking. the most that Vincent feels towards people is interest or tolerance, in rare cases both. attachment of any sort was for people who cared to engage in their world more completely than he ever did. not pointless, but certainly not for him.

his gaze drops briefly at Kit's reference to his chosen sleeping location, eliciting a low chuckle from him. if I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned.]

There's nothing wrong with how I treat myself. All you need to know are the angles that keep you comfortable.

[this is nowhere near a proper rest, but he's unable to admit to that in the face of the person who drove him to this point. besides, as he'd mused to himself, he'd slept in much worse conditions in the past. this was practically luxury in comparison.]

You mean to tell me you've perfected the art of sleeping on benches?

[Kit's tone suggested he didn't find this feat particularly impressive. On the contrary, he somehow seemed equal parts amused and curious. Just how often would one have to retire in public lounge areas in order to find the most comfortable angle for sleeping on any given surface? And why would someone take to sleeping there to begin with?

He still didn't know this boy's name, but the pieces of the puzzle surrounding him were slowly starting to come together. The details were still hazy, but Kit was beginning to understand little by little what sort of person his companion was.]

Well, at least you've found a valuable use for your time. The city of Eddan thanks you for being such a productive member of society. We'd be at a loss without your important contributions.

[Vincent scoffs, gingerly leaning back against the bench. it wasn't just benches that he'd refined this skill on, but that was clearly a detail whose sharing would be wasted on the current uncultured audience.]

Just wait until I master sleeping through assholes who don't know when to shut up. They'll be giving giving me a medal then.

[it's abundantly clear who the blabbermouth annoyance is supposed to be, but his tone is conversational enough that it's quite difficult to find reason to take any real offense. for someone as unpleasant as Vincent often tends to be, it's surprisingly easy to differentiate true insults and his own strange way of carrying on a talk.

it's not like he minds the distraction from his poor night's rest, anyway. there's something funny about the idea of Kit being plagued enough to return and check on him, of being interested in what his company might be able to offer enough to stay and trade barbs. on some hidden level he wants to see where it goes.]

[As Vincent leaned back, Kit tilted his head and regarded him. At first glance, he didn't look like much. He was presumably of an age with Kit, small, and could easily have passed for someone with an avid interest in the Visual Kei movement. In fact, his overall appearance seemed like it might have been carefully constructed to make up for what he lacked in stature, so many of his choices those that would have made him seem more threatening...

...if Kit wasn't himself someone who had mastered the use of erecting a visual pretense, too.

When he'd been younger, much of what he'd chosen to wear had been to allow for freedom of movement and to seem intimidating at the same time. But now, wishing to separate himself from that image and the person he'd been, he could easily pass for a well-intentioned and chic geek member of the community. Apart from the faint bruising of his chin and the scuffs his shoes and knees had sustained, he didn't appear to be an upstart. And next to Vincent, he looked entirely innocent. He was aware of this. And how to change it. Just as he was certain the other boy could do the same...if he wanted.

No one who put so much effort into looking one way would be incapable of looking the opposite if he needed. It wasn't just human nature, but the basic instinct all living beings were born with: adapt to survive.

Which brought him back around to considering that playful insult...

Had their exchange earlier really just been testing the waters? Had they discovered now the proper measure of push and pull? The thought amused Kit and, as Vincent had done, he leaned back against the bench and smiled.]

You don't want anything like that. It would clash terribly with what your wearing, and I'm afraid you don't have enough room left on your face to transform it into a viable piercing.

This really must be your first time. [encountering someone like him, he means.] I'm still pretty damn tame.

[it's the truth, even if he's aware how ironic that must sound given that he's saying it while covered in his own blood. even within the members of his own band Vincent was the most 'presentable', his ratio of hardware to face still trending towards the flesh side of things. looking out over the crowds at some of the clubs they've played in, one might easily mistake the audience for an overturned box of pincushions.

there was nothing stopping him from following suit these days. he'd surrounded himself with people who had no interest in dictating his choices - who would likely encourage him vigorously if they supplied an opinion at all. it would be all too easy to load himself up on piercings and tattoos alike.

but he didn't. it wasn't fear that stayed Vincent's hand, but a sense of dignity. he was still a relative newcomer to the scene with a great deal to prove; to smother himself in the trappings of his subculture would only broadcast insecurity, telegraph how little confidence he had in his ability to succeed on his own merits. the people he met who had weighed themselves down with mutilations weren't deserving of an inch of his respect - so why should he expect anything different for himself if he followed along?

there was no way to stop him from adorning himself as he saw fit. but Vincent was going to reach his goals with his own hands, not through empty posturing.]

All you'd need to do is slap a pentagram on it and you'd have a pretty hot accessory. It's not a very complicated style.

[not like the carefully cultivated harmlessness that Kit seemed to be peddling these days. he probably spent hours in the morning debating the aggression level of argyle.]

Hmm...

[With his own hands, was it? And not through empty posturing. And yet, here he was, still willing to parade around a symbol that didn't originate with or belong to his subculture just so that he could ensure an accessory was in vogue.

Truly, Vincent was still every bit a teenager. But they both were, weren't they?

Kit could have ridiculed his choice. As someone who believed in the occult, perhaps he should have. But he didn't. Instead, he took the topic to be an invitation and, more importantly, an opportunity. If he could just steer things back in the direction of one of their earlier conversations, he might yet acquire the information he'd been seeking.

Blast his unrelenting curiosity and determination to succeed.]

Upright or inverted?

[excuse you, Kit, but Satanism and other such grim occultism is very popular in the world of black metal. defacing a symbol of authoritarian approval with it is possibly the most metal thing that he could do in this hypothetical situation.]

Inverted, of course. Although I doubt half the people interested would know the difference to begin with.

[as long as there was a star in a circle most of the people wanting to look edgy and dark would be satisfied. he doubted they understood that having only a single point upright was open to many more benign interpretations; could they ever imagine that such a thing was once used by Christians themselves? unlikely.

there's no point in blindly following anything, even if you have a true passion for it. it rarely comes up (has almost never, before now) but Vincent has done his homework on the symbols and common beliefs of his niche. it's the least he can do to show some respect.]

[Totally the most metal, but not necessarily the most mindful or respectful use of the symbol itself. Except from the perspective of a Satanist. But was Vincent a Satanist?]

Man above God, then?

[And all his desires and material pursuits along with him raised to a level of importance far above established religious doctrine. The entirety of mankind deified, the realm of men held in the greatest esteem while Heaven and the promises of other faiths were openly rejected. Glory and immortality were theirs to take if they chose, not have lorded over them as the rewards for good behavior as judged by divine forces.

Kit could see the appeal. But it seemed such a silly thing to need to parade any of that. What would such an act accomplish? Besides attracting unnecessary, and perhaps very much unwanted attention, of course.]

That is perhaps the newest interpretation of the pentagram, despite there being instances of the inverted symbol seen throughout history before. Still, people see it as a sign of evil, of Satanic ritual that serves to attract demons rather than repel them like its upright counterpart. That wouldn't worry you?

Not when that's the point.

[the ugly and brutal side of every world, supernatural or not. that was what black metal glorified, throwing open the depravity of existence so wide that none could look away from it. there was nothing frightening about the possibility of bringing those hideous monsters to your doorstep - the odds were good that they were already there.

to wear such things around one's neck, to participate in such dark things, it wasn't meant to show off. it was a challenge hurled out into the universe, daring any creature that thought itself mighty to come and overturn their philosophy. boasts were only empty words without the willingness to stand behind them.]

If you're going to believe that you're above everything else, then there's nothing you should be afraid of. If they want to come, let them.

[he laughs again, lowly]

Maybe they'll learn a thing or two.

[The laughter Vincent's response elicited was soft, but true. It echoed through the empty lobby, a full-bodied sort of mirth that had risen from Kit's gut free of constructs like propriety or composure.

Let them come? Let the demons come?

As he regarded his companion and then the stairwell they sat across from, Kit nodded, shoulders still gently bouncing with laughter. This time, however, his humor wasn't at the expense of the boy sitting next to him. To challenge the world, one would be required to give their all or nothing. There were no half-measures when it came to survival, no easy way outs. No reward could be acquired if no risk was ever taken.

He felt that ideology to his very core. Let them come, indeed.]

They can't learn anything if they're dead.

[Implying that he believed Vincent would not be so lenient with demons as he'd been with him.]

But it sounds like there's still plenty for you to be taught. Do you fall farther from the peak of the mountain or its base? Fear reminds you to be sure-footed. It isn't a weakness.

It's for the next life.

[the implication that he'd murder any demon foolish enough to cross paths with him is left untouched, a tacit confirmation of its veracity. if one wished to slay gods, mercy could have no part in their actions.

let fools learn from their mistakes in another time, another world. there was much that the past could teach someone - a thought that is especially present in his mind tonight, when icy hands against talisman shields still whisper through his memories.

it's a bit silly, but being able to startle something a little less composed from Kit tugs his smile several inches wider. there's something deeply satisfying in being able to rattle masks like his askew.]

You're always going to hit the ground no matter how far you fall; fear only keeps you from climbing at all to avoid it. It's better to be good enough that slipping isn't even a possibility.

Arrogance can be even more crippling than fear.

[Not unlike laughing much too freely before one's body had fully recovered, Kit realized too late.

He could only hope that by wrapping his jacket more tightly around him, the fall of his long hair had concealed the momentary grimace that reached his face. Probably, his aches and pains would linger long into the morning. And, if they were gone at all before the week was up, he'd be very lucky.]

A man can control himself, not the mountain. Fear of consequence is how he learns to survive treacherous terrain and become good enough to reach the top.

You're overestimating people.

[he responds dryly, canting his head to the side lightly. if Vincent had seen the flash of regret on his companion's face, he's choosing not to comment on it. given his usual quickness to point out flaws it's more likely that he just barely missed it.

it's not like he really has much room to talk to begin with. the shifting of his head had been less to do with getting a better look at Kit while they're talking and more of an attempt to chase away that goddamned kink in his neck. this was always the problem with benches that had arms.]

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