[action]

[faterecanted]

[It's been a few days since Van arrived, under less than ideal circumstances. During that time, he felt it was probably wisest to remain incommunicado. The easiest way to assure the others from Auldrant that he was doing nothing threatening was to appear to be doing nothing threatening; and he wasn't... strictly speaking. For the most part, all he'd done was study Ms. Sage's guide -- no, memorized it. He'll have to thank her, if they ever meet. She provided him with so much valuable information; including a list of exploitable thugs.

Someone should really do something about that.

But as enlightening as Ms. Sage's writings are, man cannot live on words alone. The supplies he gathered after leaving Asch and Luke's building (...and later returning to it) were starting to run out. He wasn't particularly thrilled with the clothes he'd grabbed, either. He'd rather not wear his Oracle uniform all the time, and the rest were a bit... lacking. He'd like to think he was a striking, well-dressed man; and appearances were so important to a favorable first impression. He'd get to that later in the day. And then the library, perhaps. It was always an advantage to have more information. His first stop, though, was something he could no longer put off: the medical facilities in the battle dome. He'd have to hope he could find what he needed there.

Despite his long list of errands (and the vague concern that he'll run into people he knows and would rather not deal with yet), he'll be perfectly willing to exchange a few words with anyone else out and about. In fact, he'll make sure to at least make eye contact and give a polite nod to every person he sees. The charisma is turned up to 11 today.]

Dist: Something to discuss with you. CH#7. Tonight.

(TL;DR: Meet him in the library, the clothing shops, the battle dome, on the street... And fill this out if you would, plz)

Comments

I swear I wasn't going to drop this

[faterecanted]

[His research needs go so very far beyond that, but he's not going to openly call attention to it. It would be unspeakably rude, and you just don't earn trust by being unspeakably rude and dismissive.

That comes afterward.]

You must be an industrious student. Most I know would only bother with one book, or two.

THAT IS OKAY. no worries. |Db

[fourteen]

[ Such a flatterer, Van. It works, too. ]

Well ... recently a doctor in the village agreed to take me on as a student. I promised him I'd work hard... [ She shakes her head. She shouldn't talk so much about herself! ] I hope you find what you're looking for. [ A beat. Then, a look of concern crosses her face. ] ... wait, you're not sick, are you? [ Looking at books on diseases... ]

[faterecanted]

[He shifts his expression to a friendly if tired smile. One that looks just a little drawn around the edges. It's a calculated move, to make him less threatening. Just a bit worn out. Just in need of a little care and assistance.

One could always make use of a healer, after all. Even a barely trained one.]

It's nothing you should worry about. An old soldier like me picks up all sorts of problems. [He isn't old. He's in the prime of his life. But 27 usually sounds old, to a teenager, and he'd estimate he looks still a few years beyond that.]

[fourteen]

[ She pauses for a moment, as if she doesn't quite believe him ... but lets it go. ] So you're a soldier... how old are you, anyway? ... if you don't mind me asking. [ She laughs, quietly. ] I'm Xion, by the way.

[faterecanted]

How old do you think I am? [His tone is light, amused. Teasing?]

[fourteen]

... um. [ She bites her lip, still kind of smiling. ] I dunno. I'm not really that good with ages. [ Being not even three. ] You don't look old, though!

[faterecanted]

Twenty-seven. [Said slyly over the top of a book.] But that's ancient in soldier years. [So says the general that grew a beard because he was too young to be taken seriously in the position.]

[fourteen]

[ Xion laughs. She likes this guy -- even if he hasn't told her his name yet. ] It's not that old! Still way older than I am, though.

[faterecanted]

I'm flattered. My many teenage [subordinates] colleagues would likey disagree. You seem about their age.

[fourteen]

[ Oh. Uh. Oops? She thinks for a second. ] Maybe! I'm almost ... [ She pauses again, as if she has to do the mental arithmetic. ] Seventeen. Wow. [ A beat, and she laughs again. ] Sorry. I was only fourteen when I got here. It's been such a long time. [ ... there are some odd holes in her logic here, but she's going to breeze right past them. ]

By the way, what's your name? [ Since he didn't say anything before. ]

[faterecanted]

[He doesn't look up from the book, or turn his head toward her; just glances to the side. He looks, for all the world, like a person who is kind, and protective, and smart, and patient, just a little sly... The sort of person anyone would want as a friend.

What an awful surprise she's in for.]

It's Van.

[fourteen]

[ ... at first, it doesn't really register. Not quite. But her smile slowly fades.

"Master Van's here."

Wait, it ... it can't be. This person...? He seems so...

"He was the one person I trusted for seven years..."

"I-I... Master Van brought me to- s-something called a Sephiroth T-Tree. He said if I used it on that, I'd- I'd destroy the miasma and everything would be just fine and everyone wouldn't be so sick and I'd- I'd finally be free, but...

He didn't tell me that the Tree was holding up Akzeriuth. I... I destroyed it and it... I... The whole city fell and-

There were thousands of people and I killed them all!"

Xion surges to her feet, so suddenly and with such violence that her chair goes crashing to the floor. The sound is loud as a gunshot in the otherwise quiet library. Her grip on the edge of the table is white-knuckled, tight enough to make her hands shake, and she is starkly pale.

This man...

She told him her name.

Her words are very, very quiet. She isn't thinking. ]

I know who you are.

[faterecanted]

[The change in Van's demeanor is notable for being nearly imperceptible. He doesn't get angry. Oh, no. There are no threats, no raised voices, no violent movements. No heat.

Instead, he looks at her with artfully feigned confusion and closes the book -- softly, with care not to damage the pages.

So she claims to know of him. From who? Asch? Tear? ...The replica? From that reaction, whatever she thinks she knows probably isn't flattering.]

Is something wrong?

[His voice is low. Concerned. She may or may not be taken in by it; but the show isn't really for her benefit. It's for the benefit of anyone who may be watching or overhear. He'll see that they witness exactly what he wants them to: hysterical accusations against a person who is confused and completely innocent.]

[fourteen]

[ Her reaction, as it turns out, is an exercise in controlled hysteria. The things she does not do are fly off the handle, or begin to yell or point. But that doesn't she won't make other mistakes. She lets go of the table, and steps back, intending to leave -- and stumbles over her fallen chair instead. In so doing, she crashes to the floor, tangled up in the chair's legs, crushing her wings besides. The pain momentarily blinds her and she yelps, though she is not injured, and for a moment she just sits there, trembling.

She's not really a tactician. And she's certainly never been very good at controlling her emotions. She's distantly aware that everything she's doing right how is a tell, a dead giveaway, that she's probably putting the boys and everyone else from Auldrant in danger by reacting like this--

But rarely has she been so scared. She knows what this man has done. ]

Yeah. [ Her voice is quiet, still, just above a whisper, and trembles like the rest of her. ] Yeah, something's wrong. [ No, no. Stop speaking. Just go. Stupid, stupid! Painfully, she begins extricating herself from the chair, trying to get back on her feet. ]

[faterecanted]

[Whatever she's expecting him to do, it probably isn't stand, walk around the table, and offer her his hand. He doesn't know what was said to her, or when, or by whom; but unless it was something... severe, simply continuing to appear polite and concerned may be enough to make her doubt it.

It may not help; but it probably won't hurt.

If she looks closely, though, there's something in his eyes: something cold and sharp and not completely concealed. A warning.]

You look pale. You should go home and rest.

[fourteen]

[ ... it's not. She was honestly expecting him to stay where he was. Staring. Considering. Judging. ]

Don't--

[ Whatever she heard, it was enough. While she doesn't slap his hand away, it looks like she'd like to. Though there is ... a moment. A moment where she stares at him, and wavers, as if she might actually accept.

She didn't expect him to act so kind. It's a convincing act. Convincing enough to make her want to stay, to keep talking to him, as if maybe she might learn something...

In the end, it's the look in his eyes that returns her resolve to flee. She sees in them the darkness, that warning, and it frightens her terribly. So much so that she nearly falls over again scrambling back from him, but finally she manages to get away from the chair and steady herself on her feet. ]

I don't want your help. Stay away from me.

[ ... again, she hesitates. Has she said too much? Too little? ... it's not important now. What's done is done; she has to leave. And so she does, turning on her heel and taking off at a run. Oddly, for just a moment before she ran, there was something around her hands ... almost like wisps of darkness. There were just enough of them to be obvious, and not simply a trick on the eyes.

She'd thought better of a portal seconds too late to hide the evidence of the beginnings of a darkness corridor. But then, finally, she's gone. ]