Record: 39

[esoteric_rose]

I'm out of the elevator.

And my arm is better, it seems.

*visible for a few minutes, then struck out*

Why...what the hell was I thinking? Now I want to go see him and apologize, but that probably means nothing. I'm so heartless. If he wanted to hit me I'd let him. I'd deserve it. But I still want to talk...

*written hesitantly, a little shaky* Stoneface. If you're reading this...I'd like to talk.

Comments

[stonyfaced.livejournal.com]

[Stoneface listens to Juliet's explanation impassively. Had it been any other time, he would have interrupted the man, objected to the pointless blather that doesn't really explain anything at all. Now, though, even with the dreadful memory fresh in his mind's eye, a taught string ready to snap, he's enjoying the night's air too much to bother.

He realizes, in some abstract form, that this is Juliet spilling out what he knows to be his life's story. As far as he's concerned, all this means is that Juliet was a bastard in his previous life and couldn't come to terms with it, made excuses and faked compassion.

That's Juliet's problem, and he doesn't care. As long as the man keeps to himself and doesn't go on a killing rampage, it's none of his concern. It was, in the elevator, but not any more.

He is expected to say something, though; this is for his own benefit, after all. Stoneface blows a plume of smoke into the air to gain more time, then speaks.]

Compassion's not exactly something you can create, or fake. Memories or not, you are what you are and being jaded's no excuse.

[He should know. He's not that monster with two swords in the memory, and he knows that as well as he knows anything. It's just one part of him, one that he keeps heavily leashed. Some people don't have that strength. Does Juliet?]

I hope you don't plan on viewing it as entertainment here, [he says lightly, but a hint of menace creeps into his voice.]

Is that all?

[esoteric_rose.livejournal.com]

{Juliet is silent. It's true, he is a death god and nothing can change that. There is no excuse for what he did. But compassion...he wasn't faking what he felt before. Maybe it was just...hidden by the memories.}

Compassion..can it be suppressed unconsciously...by actions as shinigami?{this is very quiet, the last part almost inaudible, and Stoneface could miss it if he wasn't paying attention.}

...I don't plan on it. At all.

{He glances off, face unreadable.}

Pretty much.

I can't say anything else...nothing else that means even a shred of anything.

[stonyfaced.livejournal.com]

[Stoneface turns his head to look at Juliet when he speaks, a strange expression on his face.]

Compassion is compassion, [he says, simply. He's always been a simple man, and often thinks to himself that he's really not cut out for any of the inner politics that seem to pervade his life; even the secrets of the tree seem to be simpler than that.] It's there or it's not. What's a shinigami? [Was he a murderer? A criminal? Stoneface suspects he was. Nobody who isn't weathered could have watched that battlefield with a smile.

It reminds him of something. It's sickeningly familiar, and Stoneface doesn't like it, and just looking at Juliet, he remembers how badly he wanted to wipe that smile off his face.

But now, wallowing in his own brand of self-pity, Juliet seems anything but emotionless, so there's that. Compassion is a term Stoneface uses loosely, and it's not one he's too sure of himself. What he does know is that people oughtn't smile at death.]

And as long as you don't commit any crimes, your actions are none of my business. But I will say that if somebody kinder than myself catches you smiling at their problems, well, they may not be so forgiving. [This is accompanied by the traces of a humorless grin on his face.]

[esoteric_rose.livejournal.com]

{Juliet is quiet. Only one phrase out of Stoneface's mattered.

If he confessed...he couldn't. Stoneface would kill him on the spot.

He can't lie either. Something tells him the man would know.

...Half-truth, it is.}

...Shinigami...that was my former job.