The Beast And His Master

[Guest]

Such a curious creature, Daemon was. While it had seemed possible, even promising, that he might someday leave the hollow state of his previous self and grow into a man of much more sentience, most of the evidence had been nothing but an illusion. What appeared to be feeling was simply emulation, not true feeling, but in the wake of such things, a new emptiness had begun to fester deep within him. An explanation was lacking, and it was simply cradled by the notion that this was how things were meant to be. He was never intended to become a true human being, even without the chimera factor being considered, and that barrier had been wired into his brain. It blocked out - sometimes forcefully - anything that he considered a non-objective thought. Memories of the various punishments, though dwindling, were as vivid as if he were experiencing them.

In truth, he had grown nearly immune to the effects of physical pain, his threshold far beyond what would have been considered a healthy resistance. Emotional trauma, however, was what caused his initial transformation. It wasn't that he lacked the capacity to feel, but that he had prevented himself from doing so reflexively. His body had adapted to the situation, preventing even more damage to his brain by causing itself to become immune. As a result, the recovery process was on a level close to a fairy tale, something inspiring yet impossible.

Daemon sat in the shadows of a ruined building, his attention on the sounds and smells of everything around him. It was as though he was tense and expectant, but it was quite simply the way he always was. Without his sight to guide him or to betray him, his reliance on other senses had become crucial. Never knowing a life with vision, he didn't have any reason to miss it. After all, how does one miss what one has never had? Such claims were sorted into his mind under being possible attempts at flattery, trickery, or they could possibly be used when the individual had no other way to express their feelings. All it was to the blind man was a statistic, a number, a fact in an encyclopedia. It was how everything was to him. Everything except the enigma that was Aurelius.

After his short exploitation by Creta, Daemon had been more or less collected by the man, and not a minute too soon. If left there, it was likely he would have been taken prisoner by Amestris, or perhaps something otherwise detrimental to his performance. Though why or how the situation was beneficial from a performance standpoint, he wasn't sure. When around Aurel, the chimera questioned a lot of things. So many, in fact, that he almost wondered why he was still there. It was as though Aurel was a way for him to see in the darkness, and it confused him.

It made him aware of hole in his heart.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

This absurd qualification of his newly attained body was just about driving him mad. Stocked full of pain medication, Aurelius was at his wit's end, literally he'd say. His previous self had the audacity to attempt suicide before the designated time, pulling the trigger against his skull. A folly as it was. He had to grip his shirt tail to walk in a straight line and blink fervently to see clearly. At times, the overbearing agony paralyzed him, leaving him to writhe helplessly against the demands of his mortal form. There was no escape...until he healed it, that is. It took time, and as present times had it, he had to deal. But he needed quiet and his quarters were not allowing him that. The careless knocks--the jarring noises wafting in from RIOTE's main base, he couldn't take it currently. People. People and their constant activities flowing endlessly like a hot spring even in these temperatures. The steam coming off the snow was a fume--a disease that if inhaled for too long, would careen him into the clichéd crowd. Here, Drachma, he'd hardly had a chance to explore--discover the means he had built upon. Time was of essence--value; wasting it was not on the agenda. Yet, here he was, defying his own preaching like a sullied rebel.

A smirk as a cloud passed over the sun, his pale hands pocketed in thick layers of black. His overcoat was warm enough, but wrapped around his neck was a long Kashmir scarf hand stitched--tightly wound. The wind took it, pushing it close to his damp skin, sweating cold. The migraine was being resilient even against the Drachman's best remedy. He guessed it could be accredited to the unfortunate event of taking a bullet to the brain, hah, as logic had it. Luckily, Hild had forfeit herself to allow this body life, for if she hadn't, the entire plan would have faced eminent ruin. That hadn't been ideal. The metal plate inside his skull screamed as if reverberating every sound heard, eating up the frigid wind from the tips of whipped, raven hair. His mismatched eyes squinted ahead into the white abyss, finding amid the snow a half-standing ruin of a building. His senses were picking up more than worn stone and ice, though; someone else was here as well. Aurel looked up, pupils trying to draw in more light, at the same time, rejecting it completely.

"Ah," he heard his own voice, "Daemon." A dark form splayed on a rafter above, legs dangling, mind adrift as his own. Clutching his snow ridden sleeves, the chupacabra chimera wondered just how he might get up there. That was when he saw the slight outline of a set of stairs, crumbled and decayed with time and war--a war the previous him has caused. Crunch his first boot made the climb, slipping as the snow flattened against rubber. He ascended, reaching the top in brief time, planting himself at the foot of his acquired soldier. Right now... Aurel knew nothing about this man, only that he had obtained him--or rather, met him--during the Cretan war. The history books were hardly able to shed much light on the matter. All in all, he was in the dark, facing someone who may even be an enemy to his previous self's poor judgement. Needless to say, he had more faith in himself than that. He hoped.

Rubbing his arms in obvious discomfort, he beheld the creature with mild curiosity (as he predicted he might have the first time they had encountered one another)--a re-meeting of sorts. A faint inkling of interest gathered on his features, his dark figure stooping to take in the entire scene. "Fancy meeting you here."

[Guest]

The sound of footsteps drew his attention. He did not turn, he did not speak; He did not move, feeling it unnecessary. Something about the individual, however, felt vaguely familiar. Well, if it was possible to be able to sense specific people, at least. The sensation was fleeting, and he made the decision to push it into the recesses of his mind, where many, many other thoughts and feelings were housed. Into a metaphorical safe that not even he could open. The process was automated and instantaneous, allowing him to move on without delay. As his mind settled upon the idea that another was present, it seemed to search for more information. Soon enough, there was another sound. It was a voice. A voice that the chimera recognized immediately, nonetheless.

"Ah," a short pause, "Daemon."

He held his breath for a moment, only releasing it after realizing he was doing so. The reason? Daemon wasn't sure how to respond. Other than what he was used to saying, very few words in his quite expansive vocabulary would be applicable to this situation. Remaining silent, he waited. For what, he didn't know. What he did know was that Aurelius' appearance warranted patience. The footsteps continued, as Aurel made his way up the set of steps at the far side of the building. Occasionally the squeak of rubber reached him, but he ignored it. At least, he made an attempt to. Despite being ruined, the building's walls still managed to create an echo, though it was extremely faint.

It took all the chimera had not to move when Aurelius made his way to him. The atmosphere seemed to have changed from the moment the latter arrived. His internal response to the confusion the other man brought him was to flee, to spare himself the foreign and - according to him - debilitating state of mind. Then again, another response was quite the opposite, reminding him that Aurelius was his new master, and it would be Daemon's duty to stay by his side until instructed to do otherwise. A slight grunt escaped him during the brief silence that followed. It wasn't long before a true conversation seemed to take root, with underlying tones of interest, as though there was something to be gained from it.

"Fancy meeting you here."

His head dropped down, the gaping holes reflecting the emptiness of his soul. Though it wasn't a sentence that provoked a response, it was clear something had to be said. Of course, at that moment, the proper thing to say seemed to escape him. He searched and searched, yet nothing seemed to work. Opening his mouth to speak, Daemon pushed past the knot in his throat. "My liege," he croaked, continuously looking for the right words, "Would you... Do you, perhaps, require assistance of some sort? Is there...trouble?" Though he tried desperately to smother the buzzing in his head, it seemed to grow increasingly difficult. It wasn't long before the same feelings from before re-surfaced. Perhaps there was more to this than simply following one man's orders. Perhaps... perhaps there were other ways to achieve that feeling of satisfaction, of having accomplished one's purpose. There wasn't any hint of urgency or desperation in what Aurelius said, so... there must be some other reason why he would even be spoken to. "Is some other reason for your wandering?"

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Meeting for the first time. Ah, how there were so many firsts upon entering this time. It was hard to keep up--to keep acting as if all were well--catching up; returning unto himself. Because as of recent, he hardly felt like himself. He was not what others expected; he did not fit the previous template constructed by the other sharing the same face, attributes, etc. They were different by way of conflicting experience and lack thereof of memory. Just yesterday did he finally draw the lines together, recalling all there was to recall. He was himself and only just that. Here he stood, stark still against the arid expanse of Drachma, a swarm of snow crowding his mind in cold silence; it felt as if it would last eternally. A faint grunt from the chimera, blind, to his right. Aurel cocked his head, meeting the voids of nothingness...much like his own. Oddly, they were very much akin. It was no wonder they came across each other. He was not surprised, no, not at all. In fact, the only reason why he knew Daemon's name was from the RIOTE member list records he had spent countless hours studying and memorizing. Things he should have known--were required to know, but had neglected in death. In a sense, it was a paradox.

Fighting, battling to speak, the beast sitting before him (still nearly taller) brought about words. Forced? Why, he wondered was is so difficult? Secrets kept away from the light. Perhaps he didn't know this was their first-- "My liege." There was no question. Nothing else mattered; he had to lead. And lead he would. In the end, relationships didn't matter; meeting people didn't matter. Only and ever did the results matter. They way to reaching them was irrelevant. However, how would he ensure such things if he was not certain of those that followed en mass. Each separate entity made up that mass however insignificant they appeared. Aurel was very aware of this, but having never lead an army as such, he could only fathom what was needed and what should be cast away. "Would you... Do you, perhaps, require assistance of some sort? Is there...trouble?" Bewildered for just a moment, his eyes widened, and his words became trapped. So that was how he had felt. They surprised each other: one merely by appearing, the other for intuition. He found himself moving to sit in the snow, ignoring the wet cold that melted and seeped into his pants. Laying his head on his hand, he stared straight ahead with contemplative eyes. Something he wouldn't share. Yet he continued... "Is [there] some other reason for your wandering?"

A soft expell of air. The cloud it made, clouding judgement. What did it matter to reveal it? The sigh continued into words. "No." He paused, glancing up to catch the sight of his breath fading away into a passing endeavor. "You see, I had to get away." He bit his lip and looked to the side, focused on anything except Daemon's inquisitive face. "I received a letter revealing details that pertain to the future. I saw..."

"I killed Tatyana."

"someone die." He looked back at Daemon straight on, a cold look simmering into his mismatched eyes. "Something I could not control, yet something I felt I had a hand in."

"However, I am ALSO Tatyana. A pleasure to meet you again, Aurel." His daughter.

"There's no need to force yourself, Daemon." In one swift movement, Aurelius stood up, brushing the snow off himself. "I apologize for bothering you," a smile in his voice, "I am attracted to quiet. Especially with these inescapable migraines."

[Guest]

To simply attribute this to the fact that people could change would be an understatement. None of the lectures he'd been subjected to could possibly offer an explanation to this phenomenon. Aurelius had not simply changed - he was a completely different person. Though most would have been uncomfortable with this knowledge, Daemon was unlike most. This man, this new man, was at the peak of all priorities. At first, this was not due to feelings of obligation. That was all alien to the chimera, never even crossing his mind. It was a task that he had been assigned, a transfer of leadership. That was all.

Or so he had been made to believe.

There was something in the way that Daemon's thoughts became jumbled around this ever-changing man that convinced him there was something else at work. The sensation was subdued, near unnoticeable at first, but it seemed that time had once again worked against him. In truth, he had partly avoided this in the hopes that he would be able to identify the cause and eliminate it. As he examined it, he had come to realize that the reason he was unable to combat it was that he was incapable of understanding it. A lack of understanding was not something he would often admit to, yet in such circumstances, he was hardly able to deny it. Holding a hand in front of his unseeing face, he remained otherwise still, in a statuesque state. "No." His breathing was slow, calm. With every exhale, he noted the way the moisture within it tickled his upper lip.

"You see, I had to get away. I received a letter revealing details that pertain to the future. I saw... someone die. Something I could not control, yet something I felt I had a hand in." There it was, the man's purpose in escaping a world a-buzz with voices, with action. Daemon never understood the appeal - all of it simply clouded his senses. It seemed that even those that were the most vital to this operation needed to escape the chaos every once in a while. The chimera had been raised in an environment where even momentary weakness could be exploited and lead to death. Gruesome as it was, that was the world he had known for most of his life. For years to come, it would remain heavy in both his mind and his heart. His lips trembled as he struggled to decide on more words.

"There's no need to force yourself, Daemon." Stopping as quickly as he intended to begin, he tilted head upward, lifeless gaps peering at Aurel. With no time to wrap his mind around the concept of seeing someone's future death, he chose to focus on the present. So his struggle had been apparent; Not that he had doubted it would be, but it was odd that it was addressed so plainly. "I apologize for bothering you, I am attracted to quiet. Especially with these inescapable migraines."

Apologize. Time seemed to have stopped. Aurel was... apologizing... to him? That alone was an occurrence that was rare, but the fact that someone was apologizing to him... that had only happened on one previous occasion: when Nyx was attempting to teach Daemon about how personalities worked, and that everyone had them. He had rarely even offered apologies himself, as he didn't understand the concept well enough. Not to mention he always did what he could to ensure that his tasks were completed successfully, so there was rarely a need for apologies.

The muscles in his face creaked as they formed into a subtle smile. "No, my liege," his reply came as he shook his head, "thank you." That was all he said, the subtle smile still visible. If there was anything else that needed to be added, it would come later. For now, however, it was best that he let his words linger. Perhaps they would sink in, perhaps not. What was clear at this point, however, was that this feeling he had been unable to grasp wasn't a bad thing. Whether it was positive, however, he didn't know. Nyx... was it possible that she was right, after all? She was a curious little girl, one that he had felt an innate obligation to look after, even though he knew she could look after herself. That had been the catalyst of his change.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

"No, my liege." Aurel froze quite alike the snow around them. His eyes looked fairly surprised as he was overwritten with such audacity most feared to show. Instead of acting as a cliché, however, he waited--he waited for what came. "Thank you." Aurel's expression softened immediately in comparison, practically hearing the disused gears creak along the chimera's skin as he smiled. Both half animal, half men faced one another in the tundra of Drachma, abandoned, misunderstood, and compelling. He took a few steps to the side and reached out a hand to touch the broad shoulder belonging to Daemon.

"I wonder what I've done to acquire your gratitude, but know I am equally grateful." He lifted his touch away, massaging his temples almost violently in pain. The action unbalanced him, the snow sliding underfoot as he stumbled sideways into a crumbling alcove. He did not know this man just as he hadn't known Nyx, but they knew him. Sometimes--sometimes that was all that mattered.

With a soft exhale, Aurelius pushed back from his descent to hell, squinting through the bright. "I cannot runaway for too long." He gazed off ahead the way he came and frowned back at the taller man. "Perhaps we can return together." For, he was sure he could not make the trek.

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