[Javert has a point, he'll grant that - if not in words, then in the way his lips purse at the monologue. Marco may have a propensity for paranoia, but not for cynicism. It doesn't come naturally to him; it only grows and festers in his wounds. No, despite what some might expect, Marco's paranoia has a way of coexisting with naiveté.
That's why he wanted to believe Kaito could have made it to space. That's why he's still with Elias, no matter whether he wants to admit it or not. And that's why, when he begins to notice the fog seeping into the room, he wonders for a moment if he's imagining it.
But he isn't. Wide and terrified green eyes follow the fog as it coalesces around Javert, then land on the man's intense gaze. Right now, Marco couldn't forget he's speaking to a Priest of the Fog if he tried.
And part of him very much wishes he would try.]
Elias had nothing to do with this. [His answer comes fast, breathless. He wonders if Javert can hear his accelerated pulse.] Nothing, I swear. I just-- This was about space.
What about space? What about the stars and the moon?
[Javert's voice is somber, rumbling, and quiet, but it lashes out and seizes Marco like a roar. His grip on his cane tightens, knuckles whitening under the tension, the glow in his eyes flaring to an unspoken threat. He can squeeze out the truth. Don't make him.]
What powers backed this enterprise? What did they ever think to accomplish out there, where their hunger would never be sated except by one another?
[The only conclusion that makes sense to Javert is that they meant puncture to Sea of Stars, part the veil between worlds, and slip out, into the night, away from Ryslig, in some nonsense plan to get away from Madame Fog's inescapable grip. He could conceive that it might do something especially nefarious, with the False God's blessings and cunning mind; he could conceive that it has done something to chase the Fog's influence away from the night, as he's observed, himself. Perhaps it would marry the abominable land, Felfri, even more closely to Ryslig, as Elias and his army would want.
He cannot conceive that it was done for fun. For what the devil was fun about slowly letting oneself go mad aboard a tin can in the sky? Unbelievable.]
[Javert seriously believes this had something to do with Elias; is anything he tells him going to convince him otherwise? There is a very real possibility that the answer is no, and that makes frustration bubble up alongside Marco's fear.
Fear, because what's going to happen if he can't get through to this man; frustration, because oh, so this is it, this must have been what others felt like when Marco marched in and accused them of being tainted by the Fog.
(Also, frustration because somehow in Javert's mind this all leads to cannibalism; also, frustration because Marco realises this makes no less sense than when he convinced himself one of the Fog's monuments was corrupting all who visited it.)]
Mana backed this enterprise. None of the gods did, as far as I'm aware, and if you'll pardon my presumption I like to believe I would be aware if one of them was. This was a matter of-- of pure scientific curiosity. But you won't believe me, will you?
[Javert was thinking in the long term; if there were a hypothetical escape underway, how would Monsters eat, how long would they bank on being able to stay away? The longer they were out on that star-crossed journey, the hungrier the team would get. That was where cannibalism came in. Atrocious planning from top to bottom, and he would be hard-pressed to believe otherwise.
Elias's interference is another matter. The reason he questions Marco so intensely is because he has found no hard evidence to suggest the boy's involvement, even if a suspicion nags at him. He would like to either verify it as fact, or stamp out the possibility and move on to other angles, and this was his swiftest course to do so.
So what is it that he sees in Marco's eyes, now, with his harried answer, flush with irritation? Javert silently scrutinizes, sparks flying in his pupils. He takes in the ebbing wave of fear, the worry. He delves deeper, irises aflame, and recognizes the frustration mounting within them. He pushes and he nudges and he wrangles, just slightly, his mental hooks ready to take aim and commandeer Marco's faculties straight out from under him.
But then something remarkable happens. With frustration overriding the fear in Marco's heart, Javert's gaze withdraws. He listens, and he hears the message, and he judges it as true. His grip on his cane loosens, and he absently, thoughtfully twists it in his palms, the veil of fog slowly thinning and seeping straight back out of the room.]
There we are, that's good, [he says sententiously, chin held high.] I'm capable of reason, Evangelisti. I can see you speak honestly. [His brow arches, the corner of his mouth crimping in a strange cross between a smirk and a grimace.] And I can see that you went out of your way to allow a group of cads the tools to fly this foolish mission of theirs. With the Mana witch's name attached to this, it is no wonder it ended poorly. Her raison d'être may as well be sabotage, after all.
[Javert snorts, finally comfortable enough to turn away and scan the room for anything else of fervent interest. He refrains from handling anything else, contenting himself with committing the room to memory.]
What is so pressing about the stars that they paid her for the powers to get up there, anyway?
[His guard is up, and it only rises with each moment that passes. As Javert's gaze bores into him, Marco weighs his options. Stopping time - there's always that. Can the Fog's priests do anything to counter it? There's a strong possibility that they can. If they can't, what does he do with it? Take the opportunity to hurl Javert outside? That wouldn't keep him out. But physical confrontation has never suited Marco. Would Javert be vulnerable to his voice in the slightest, he wonders? Could he simply lull him away? But that wouldn't do any good when it comes to the man's suspicions - no, it would only make them worse, delay the problem instead of solving it--
And then the unbearable tension fades away, slips outside through the walls along with the fog. It's sudden enough that, for a second, Marco could swear his lungs ceased to work.
I'm capable of reason, he says.
... Marco takes a deep breath. That is good.]
If you've never wondered about the stars yourself, not even in your old life, I don't expect you to understand. [Marco speaks like he isn't quite done deflating yet; he crosses his arms to conceal a slight tremor in his hands.] Some people value curiosity as much as you value order.
[If Javert is interested in the personal touches of a home well lived in, he'll have plenty to see yet. There isn't much else that's obvious aside from that.
Technically, even the odd roomba sliding across the floor counts as that.]
Curiosity, and that's it, [Javert repeats heavily, a like a rock plopping through still waters.] You would swear it?
[Javert's eyes follow the roomba as it putters about the floor. He has no idea what it is, and if Marco's watching closely, he'll witness a vampire neatly sidestepping to avoid touching the thing as it slowly approaches him. He smooths his coat.]
Well. I shall have to hear for myself if the rest of the crew reports the same story. I have plenty of names. Saint-Germain, Kaito, Joestar, BlueBlur Sonic the Blue Metal Boy. Atem.
[That last name puzzles him. The rest? Not surprising. Especially the Sonic kid, who seemed intent on blasting out of Ryslig from the day he popped in, and quite loudly, he may add.
Javert raises his head from the roomba when it finally putters away.]
At ease, Evangelisti. The hard question is over, and I have nothing to confiscate from your personal portraits and your husband's engineering marvels. The only other matter I would like to know is this:
Who would you say led the operation, ground-side and up in the air? They concern me most of all.
That's it, [Marco echoes in turn, the weight of his voice so tangible that he's nearly recovered his center of balance.
... The way Javert seems almost cowed by a roomba also helps, he has to admit. It even factors, to an extent, into Marco's decision to volunteer the information he's requesting now - Javert already has names, and it seems his investigation is ruled by logic, albeit misguided, rather than fanaticism.
There should be no harm in telling him this.]
Saint-Germain and Kaito, respectively. Kaito is... I'm not sure if he's... alive, yet. You may have to wait to talk to him.
I can wait, [Javert remarks, calmly and coldly. He straightens the lapels of his coat, smooths down any wrinkles that might have occurred with the cold, damp influx of Fog. He steps carefully back to the door, giving the room a final sweep for anything obviously suspicious.
Upon finding nothing, he says,]
Thank you, Evangelisti. You have been most cooperative. That will be all, unless the accounts from the rest of the team give me cause to return. I will leave you and your husband to your evening, then. Ah... Do send him my regards, will you? He is a decent enough snake.
[He tips his hat curtly and pries open the door, ready to disappear into the thinly-fogged night.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That's why he wanted to believe Kaito could have made it to space. That's why he's still with Elias, no matter whether he wants to admit it or not. And that's why, when he begins to notice the fog seeping into the room, he wonders for a moment if he's imagining it.
But he isn't. Wide and terrified green eyes follow the fog as it coalesces around Javert, then land on the man's intense gaze. Right now, Marco couldn't forget he's speaking to a Priest of the Fog if he tried.
And part of him very much wishes he would try.]
Elias had nothing to do with this. [His answer comes fast, breathless. He wonders if Javert can hear his accelerated pulse.] Nothing, I swear. I just-- This was about space.
no subject
[Javert's voice is somber, rumbling, and quiet, but it lashes out and seizes Marco like a roar. His grip on his cane tightens, knuckles whitening under the tension, the glow in his eyes flaring to an unspoken threat. He can squeeze out the truth. Don't make him.]
What powers backed this enterprise? What did they ever think to accomplish out there, where their hunger would never be sated except by one another?
[The only conclusion that makes sense to Javert is that they meant puncture to Sea of Stars, part the veil between worlds, and slip out, into the night, away from Ryslig, in some nonsense plan to get away from Madame Fog's inescapable grip. He could conceive that it might do something especially nefarious, with the False God's blessings and cunning mind; he could conceive that it has done something to chase the Fog's influence away from the night, as he's observed, himself. Perhaps it would marry the abominable land, Felfri, even more closely to Ryslig, as Elias and his army would want.
He cannot conceive that it was done for fun. For what the devil was fun about slowly letting oneself go mad aboard a tin can in the sky? Unbelievable.]
no subject
[Javert seriously believes this had something to do with Elias; is anything he tells him going to convince him otherwise? There is a very real possibility that the answer is no, and that makes frustration bubble up alongside Marco's fear.
Fear, because what's going to happen if he can't get through to this man; frustration, because oh, so this is it, this must have been what others felt like when Marco marched in and accused them of being tainted by the Fog.
(Also, frustration because somehow in Javert's mind this all leads to cannibalism; also, frustration because Marco realises this makes no less sense than when he convinced himself one of the Fog's monuments was corrupting all who visited it.)]
Mana backed this enterprise. None of the gods did, as far as I'm aware, and if you'll pardon my presumption I like to believe I would be aware if one of them was. This was a matter of-- of pure scientific curiosity. But you won't believe me, will you?
CW: cannibalism
Elias's interference is another matter. The reason he questions Marco so intensely is because he has found no hard evidence to suggest the boy's involvement, even if a suspicion nags at him. He would like to either verify it as fact, or stamp out the possibility and move on to other angles, and this was his swiftest course to do so.
So what is it that he sees in Marco's eyes, now, with his harried answer, flush with irritation? Javert silently scrutinizes, sparks flying in his pupils. He takes in the ebbing wave of fear, the worry. He delves deeper, irises aflame, and recognizes the frustration mounting within them. He pushes and he nudges and he wrangles, just slightly, his mental hooks ready to take aim and commandeer Marco's faculties straight out from under him.
But then something remarkable happens. With frustration overriding the fear in Marco's heart, Javert's gaze withdraws. He listens, and he hears the message, and he judges it as true. His grip on his cane loosens, and he absently, thoughtfully twists it in his palms, the veil of fog slowly thinning and seeping straight back out of the room.]
There we are, that's good, [he says sententiously, chin held high.] I'm capable of reason, Evangelisti. I can see you speak honestly. [His brow arches, the corner of his mouth crimping in a strange cross between a smirk and a grimace.] And I can see that you went out of your way to allow a group of cads the tools to fly this foolish mission of theirs. With the Mana witch's name attached to this, it is no wonder it ended poorly. Her raison d'être may as well be sabotage, after all.
[Javert snorts, finally comfortable enough to turn away and scan the room for anything else of fervent interest. He refrains from handling anything else, contenting himself with committing the room to memory.]
What is so pressing about the stars that they paid her for the powers to get up there, anyway?
no subject
And then the unbearable tension fades away, slips outside through the walls along with the fog. It's sudden enough that, for a second, Marco could swear his lungs ceased to work.
I'm capable of reason, he says.
... Marco takes a deep breath. That is good.]
If you've never wondered about the stars yourself, not even in your old life, I don't expect you to understand. [Marco speaks like he isn't quite done deflating yet; he crosses his arms to conceal a slight tremor in his hands.] Some people value curiosity as much as you value order.
[If Javert is interested in the personal touches of a home well lived in, he'll have plenty to see yet. There isn't much else that's obvious aside from that.
Technically, even the odd roomba sliding across the floor counts as that.]
no subject
[Javert's eyes follow the roomba as it putters about the floor. He has no idea what it is, and if Marco's watching closely, he'll witness a vampire neatly sidestepping to avoid touching the thing as it slowly approaches him. He smooths his coat.]
Well. I shall have to hear for myself if the rest of the crew reports the same story. I have plenty of names. Saint-Germain, Kaito, Joestar, BlueBlur Sonic the Blue Metal Boy. Atem.
[That last name puzzles him. The rest? Not surprising. Especially the Sonic kid, who seemed intent on blasting out of Ryslig from the day he popped in, and quite loudly, he may add.
Javert raises his head from the roomba when it finally putters away.]
At ease, Evangelisti. The hard question is over, and I have nothing to confiscate from your personal portraits and your husband's engineering marvels. The only other matter I would like to know is this:
Who would you say led the operation, ground-side and up in the air? They concern me most of all.
no subject
... The way Javert seems almost cowed by a roomba also helps, he has to admit. It even factors, to an extent, into Marco's decision to volunteer the information he's requesting now - Javert already has names, and it seems his investigation is ruled by logic, albeit misguided, rather than fanaticism.
There should be no harm in telling him this.]
Saint-Germain and Kaito, respectively. Kaito is... I'm not sure if he's... alive, yet. You may have to wait to talk to him.
no subject
Upon finding nothing, he says,]
Thank you, Evangelisti. You have been most cooperative. That will be all, unless the accounts from the rest of the team give me cause to return. I will leave you and your husband to your evening, then. Ah... Do send him my regards, will you? He is a decent enough snake.
[He tips his hat curtly and pries open the door, ready to disappear into the thinly-fogged night.]