[ Without thinking twice, he offers the once-feathered talismans to her. There may be more hope in those than the answer he has to give. He marks it with a shake of his head, knowing likewise written into every feature. It's bad news to bear, but nothing he figures she hadn't already picked up on. ]
[ The apology earns a soft, sympathetic snort as she reaches for the talismans, taking them with obvious care. The papers rest gently between her fingers, her gaze fixed on them as if they might shift or breathe. ]
If you ever crack it, let me know. [ She knows he won't. Maybe it isn't something meant to be solved at all. ] Sleep isn't the only monster I'm dealing with. [ Her heart is a nest of thorns, some withered, some dead, others still sharp and living, all twisted together. Hatred has made a mess of her. ]
[ Though they don't refashion themselves into the more substantial shapes they held before, the ink does move across the inscriptions. Soft, peripheral. Lifelike — as if it could be rewritten into anything. Whatever hatred lives in her isn't enough to decay the marks. ]
It's always easier, [ he admits, self-awareness burgeoning floral at all his corners. ] to deal with someone else's monster.
[ His hands clasp in his lap, empty but fashioned by a smoker's posture. ]
That's because it's not a monster anymore. [ She mumbles, lips thinning as she fights off a frown. Other people's monsters are always easier to face. Smaller. Less suffocating. A beast made of bones, its flesh and fur stitched together from someone else's pain instead of their own. Just bones, far easier to defeat without its casing.
His offer pulls a soft, bewildered laugh from her. ] You don't even know me. [ Glancing his way. ] I'm just the girl who stabbed your... whatever he is to you. [ It's kind, painfully so, and that only makes it feel misplaced, like something meant for someone better than her. ]
[ To divine the parts is his fare — he doesn't look much daunted by the prospect. Nor does he look overly surprised to hear that it was a stabbing that took place, despite his whatever's attempt to obfuscate the reality of it without outright lying to him.
Putting that annoying ass man who's always making things sound how they aren't aside for a moment... ]
You'd be right, in most cases. I practice onmyoudo, but my job is closer to that of an exorcist or a medium. Oftentimes, it's the monster who I meet first. Only after that can I know the person beneath.
[ Maybe once Sharon would've laughed at his answer. Back home, the idea is ridiculous, even after everything she's lived through. Here, though, she's learned to stop questioning what people tell her. It's no less plausible than anything else she's seen. Exorcists and mediums might as well be real. ]
I am. [ His brows raise expectantly, the careful cadence of his expression making it clear that he already knows the answer to the question he's going to ask: ] It's not a normal profession you'd hear about, is it?
I've run into a few people who believed it was their right to scrub the sin out of someone else, to purge whatever darkness supposedly possessed them. [ The word possessed curls off her tongue with a faint, cutting sneer, but it's fleeting. ] They were cruel about it. And delusional. [ Subaru hasn't struck her that way. Not once, not yet. If anything, he feels worn thin by the world, like someone handed too much weight and expected to carry it quietly. Tired. Gentle beneath it all. ]
So no, not normal. But I've definitely heard stranger.
[ He listens, unflinching in the face of words that sting, shards of a heart dispossessed of their natural softness, turned outward, let loose into the world to strike before struck again. Shards that cannot afford to become smaller, more broken or piecemeal than they already are. ]
I'd agree with you. No one has the right to absolve anyone of their sins, no more than their darkness, or their happiness, however those might look to someone. I have, though. When necessary.
[ With his hands now empty, he lifts his fingertips again. And with one of his index fingers, he traces a glowing shape in the air as if on a clear pane of glass. Not runecasting language, but a circle, cusped in the two flowing, equal halves of yin and yang. ]
But there's a balance in it. If I protect the light, then someone stands opposite me to protect the dark. That is the meaning of onmyoudo.
[ I have, though, Subaru says, and Sharon's eyes narrow a fraction, subtle but sharp. Her teeth press together, doubt flashing hot behind her composure. When necessary. The phrase lodges under her skin. Necessary by whose measure? What tips that scale for him? What kind of pressure makes him decide the line has to be crossed?
Her attention drops to his hands as he sketches the shape through the air. The motion is deliberate, familiar enough that her brow tightens in recognition. Onmyoudo. Yin and yang. Opposing forces. Balance carved out of tension. ]
What does that mean? [ Voice cool but intent. ] That someone has to stand opposite you to protect the dark? [ A faint scoff edges in despite herself. ] Like some warped version of good versus evil?
[ His finger pauses on the magic sketched like filigree, rolls the light, sets it spinning. ]
Light and dark mean something different for everyone. [ Light peers, burns. Darkness embraces, soothes. One person's guide can be another's lure, so on. ] If it's good and evil to you, then I wouldn't argue with that interpretation.
[ And there, language as the conduit for belief, where there is no true common tongue. What does he have to justify in decisions looming a long sixteen years behind him? There's no glamor to defend, no rightness. If he were to swallow, he'd surely taste the heat of her nerves, air transposed around them. ]
In onmyoudo, it goes like this: if I protect the living from the transgressions of the dead, then someone will balance that use of power by protecting the dead from the transgressions of the living.
[ The yin and yang slow on the flat axis he's given it, as if weighted. ]
[ When she was a child, there had been no light and, instead, it was split cleanly between goodness and darkness. Neither had been evil. One simply had a greater capacity to become it. She watches the slow, deliberate movement of his magic as she turns his explanation over in her mind, trying to fit the pieces together. ]
I don't know if I fully understand. [ She admits at last, voice soft, head tilting slightly as she searches for the right angle to grasp it. ] I mean, I think I get the idea, but... [ A faint crease forms between her brows. ] It sounds unnecessary. Wouldn't balance happen on its own?
[ The whole thing feels abstract, like trying to define the shape of something made of air. ]
[ Quietly, he wipes the shapes away as if wiping luminescent ink from glass. ]
It does tend to happen on its own, regardless of the meaning or systems people try to ascribe to it. [ And isn't that just the way? All of the happenings both cosmic and corporeal, desperately shoved through the nascent lens of humanity in an effort to understand. An act of translation doesn't always bring clarity though, he knows. ] Like the chances of your knife being taken and then returned. Or tainted and then purified by the same measure.
[ To put a plainer spin on it. ]
I didn't mean to keep you here so long with it though.
[ Sharon waves the apology aside. ] It's not like I had anything planned. And I've actually enjoyed this. It's nice, getting to meet someone without everything exploding around us for once. [ There's something almost ordinary about the exchange, which feels rare here. Even with the display of power, ink that moves, paper that takes flight, the conversation had settled into something that felt almost normal.
She offers him a faint, genuine smile. ] And thank you again for bringing my knife back.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I never did manage to master that one. I'm sorry.
no subject
If you ever crack it, let me know. [ She knows he won't. Maybe it isn't something meant to be solved at all. ] Sleep isn't the only monster I'm dealing with. [ Her heart is a nest of thorns, some withered, some dead, others still sharp and living, all twisted together. Hatred has made a mess of her. ]
no subject
It's always easier, [ he admits, self-awareness burgeoning floral at all his corners. ] to deal with someone else's monster.
[ His hands clasp in his lap, empty but fashioned by a smoker's posture. ]
If my power can do anything for you, just ask.
no subject
His offer pulls a soft, bewildered laugh from her. ] You don't even know me. [ Glancing his way. ] I'm just the girl who stabbed your... whatever he is to you. [ It's kind, painfully so, and that only makes it feel misplaced, like something meant for someone better than her. ]
no subject
Putting that annoying ass man who's always making things sound how they aren't aside for a moment... ]
You'd be right, in most cases. I practice onmyoudo, but my job is closer to that of an exorcist or a medium. Oftentimes, it's the monster who I meet first. Only after that can I know the person beneath.
no subject
You're telling me you deal with possessed people?
no subject
I am. [ His brows raise expectantly, the careful cadence of his expression making it clear that he already knows the answer to the question he's going to ask: ] It's not a normal profession you'd hear about, is it?
no subject
So no, not normal. But I've definitely heard stranger.
no subject
I'd agree with you. No one has the right to absolve anyone of their sins, no more than their darkness, or their happiness, however those might look to someone. I have, though. When necessary.
[ With his hands now empty, he lifts his fingertips again. And with one of his index fingers, he traces a glowing shape in the air as if on a clear pane of glass. Not runecasting language, but a circle, cusped in the two flowing, equal halves of yin and yang. ]
But there's a balance in it. If I protect the light, then someone stands opposite me to protect the dark. That is the meaning of onmyoudo.
no subject
Her attention drops to his hands as he sketches the shape through the air. The motion is deliberate, familiar enough that her brow tightens in recognition. Onmyoudo. Yin and yang. Opposing forces. Balance carved out of tension. ]
What does that mean? [ Voice cool but intent. ] That someone has to stand opposite you to protect the dark? [ A faint scoff edges in despite herself. ] Like some warped version of good versus evil?
no subject
Light and dark mean something different for everyone. [ Light peers, burns. Darkness embraces, soothes. One person's guide can be another's lure, so on. ] If it's good and evil to you, then I wouldn't argue with that interpretation.
[ And there, language as the conduit for belief, where there is no true common tongue. What does he have to justify in decisions looming a long sixteen years behind him? There's no glamor to defend, no rightness. If he were to swallow, he'd surely taste the heat of her nerves, air transposed around them. ]
In onmyoudo, it goes like this: if I protect the living from the transgressions of the dead, then someone will balance that use of power by protecting the dead from the transgressions of the living.
[ The yin and yang slow on the flat axis he's given it, as if weighted. ]
That's just one example, but the most relevant.
no subject
I don't know if I fully understand. [ She admits at last, voice soft, head tilting slightly as she searches for the right angle to grasp it. ] I mean, I think I get the idea, but... [ A faint crease forms between her brows. ] It sounds unnecessary. Wouldn't balance happen on its own?
[ The whole thing feels abstract, like trying to define the shape of something made of air. ]
no subject
That's alright.
[ Quietly, he wipes the shapes away as if wiping luminescent ink from glass. ]
It does tend to happen on its own, regardless of the meaning or systems people try to ascribe to it. [ And isn't that just the way? All of the happenings both cosmic and corporeal, desperately shoved through the nascent lens of humanity in an effort to understand. An act of translation doesn't always bring clarity though, he knows. ] Like the chances of your knife being taken and then returned. Or tainted and then purified by the same measure.
[ To put a plainer spin on it. ]
I didn't mean to keep you here so long with it though.
this feels like a good wrap point!
[ Sharon waves the apology aside. ] It's not like I had anything planned. And I've actually enjoyed this. It's nice, getting to meet someone without everything exploding around us for once. [ There's something almost ordinary about the exchange, which feels rare here. Even with the display of power, ink that moves, paper that takes flight, the conversation had settled into something that felt almost normal.
She offers him a faint, genuine smile. ] And thank you again for bringing my knife back.