Soon [Esteban & Sner]

"Do you want your death to find you here?"

Wearily, he lifted his head and looked at the ridiculous sight of a winged monkey, floating a few feet in front of him. The animal's face looked oddly human as it frowned and looked into his eyes, and even though he didn't want to, he had to look away.

"Yes," he muttered.

"I don't think he will," it said. "He is--"

Esteban threw himself violently against his shackles, making the monkey wince. "Will you fuck off already?!"

The monkey bowed its head. "For now, yes. I will." It set down the bowl it had been holding and picked the blanket off the floor, then flew closer to him to wrap it around his shoulders. He knew better than to throw it off. Some time earlier, they had gone through at least half an hour of shenanigans with him shrugging off the woolen rag and the monkey patiently putting it back on. Now, it used a safety pin, and with how little he was able to move he couldn't wriggle his way out of it. He wasn't sure how long ago that had been. His stay at the dungeons had merged into one blur, the monotony interrupted only by the visits of the monkey that called itself a doctor. It changed his dressings, washed him, tried to feed him, and talked way too much. Most of the porridge it had tried to force into him ended up on its fur as he spat it out. He wasn't going to eat. He didn't want the blanket keeping him warm, or the bandages covering the wounds he'd sustained. He just wanted to die.

The animal said some words he didn't listen to, then left. The torch on the wall gave a ring of light that didn't reach him behind the bars; it was as distant and unreachable as normal life seemed to be. Its flickering was the only entertainment he had. With eyes tearing from the brightness, he watched the flames, imagining figures dancing... flailing... burning. Begging for mercy. But when the torch went out, there was nothing. Complete darkness and silence, and only the foul smell of the dungeons and the nose-pricking aroma of whatever it was that the monkey rubbed in to his wounds, only the rough fabric around his shoulders and the cold metal around his wrists and ankles. Nothing. Hours, days, maybe weeks of nothing. At first, he had fantasized about what he would do when he was free; how he would wreak havoc. But now, the energy even for that was gone, and all he did was hang in there, numb and thoughtless, not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

But soon. Soon. He grew weaker every day, and soon he would die. And then, he would be reborn, and it would start again. Endless torment... and that was just what he would give back to the world.

Kale had been unacceptable. The titari prided himself on his own patience, but the thought of what he'd seen and heard in the dungeons never failed to irk him. And the way she had treated him! Such meticulous flaying of his reasoning! Even though his only audience had been half-dead and inattentive, the whole encounter was nothing short of humiliating.

Time made his anger waver. Kale may have disagreed with him that day, but not because she was cruel or wicked. She just didn't know. It was never too late for anyone; not even the murderer in the dungeon.

He might've been right. Perhaps the boy could be talked to and reasoned with, he still had a functioning mind. And if he was wrong, he could not be criticised for trying. It was more than what others did, from what he'd observed. Finally, he approached the door for himself. Only Csestasa could help him now.

He opened the door, allowing a small crack of light to seep into the room. Light that was only generous enough to reveal the first few steps - the rest, it seemed, was doomed to darkness. Eyes skimmed around briefly, before noting a matchbox by his side. A match was lit, and he moved on. There was naught but silence as he crept down the staircase, closing the door behind him. He had little more than a flickering light to guide his way, stepping as carefully as though the floor was full of mousetraps. His hands touched the walls, and he had to hold back a wince at how cold and clammy they felt. How many insects were crawling up his arm now? He did his best to ignore the feeling until he found a torch on the wall. With a sigh, he allowed the withering match to slowly ignite it. Light, finally.

His eyes traced towards the nearby cell. A vague shape in the shadows. He did not need to ask to know who it was. He approached the bars, peering through to the other side.  

"Esteban, are you well?"

Noises. At first he had thought it was just his mind playing tricks, but the quiet footsteps did not cease, sounding as loud as a parade of elephants in the utter silence of the dungeons. Now, he may have lost track of time, but he was fairly certain it was not monkey time yet; and it usually flew, not walked, anyway. Warily, the changeling lifted his head and peered through the dirty fringe he had no way to brush out of his face. Soon, he was rewarded with the sight of a tiny flame -- which soon turned into a bigger light as a torch took the fire. He squinted against the light, eyes watering, but did not look away.

Well, well. Look who's come.

He chewed on a few insults, thinking of spitting them out, but when he parted his lips only a weak grumble came out. Instead of clearing his dry throat, he went with it, and let the murmur escalate into a dog-like growl that rumbled in his chest. That was an answer good enough for the chicken.

He blinked, rearing his head back at the rather unfriendly greeting. Of course, he couldn't have expected anything less, given how all of their previous encounters had turned out. It served only as a reminder that this one would be no easier.

He gently and slowly opened the cell door, conscious of the noise he was making in the otherwise silent room. It closed behind him with a quiet, yet echoey thud, before he turned to look at the prisoner. His appearance really was nothing short of frightening. In a place like this, obviously he wouldn't be receiving much sanitary treatment. Judging by his voice, maybe he hadn't even drank. His eyes traced both the blanket and the bowl - they were not there before. Perhaps his judgement of Kale had been too harsh? Was it even her?

He stepped towards him, anxious not to approach too closely, should the boy suddenly writhe free and attack him all over again. And what fun that would be... "I suppose you're not at all happy to see me... for a good reason, I suppose." He smiled bitterly. "But I assure you, I am not here to start fights or argue. I simply wish to talk."

The titari crouched down until he was on the floor, sitting crosslegged. The stones felt clammy and uncomfortable, but what could he do? He exhaled sightly. "Will you talk with me, Esteban? Or do you wish to remain silent?"

The growl did little to deter him, but Esteban hadn't really expected anything else. He had learned that he had little power to affect what others did to him a long time ago. Still, couldn't blame himself for trying.

Esteban eyed the bird-man as he approached. He just knew that in a few moments, he would be sick to death of the polite babbling - unless he managed to stop it - but for now, he was going to enjoy the break from monotony. At the very least, it would make being left alone again all the sweeter.

He gave a snort at the last question. Silent... he had been silent for too long.

"Chickenshit," he croaked. His own voice felt alien to him, as if words were things stuck in his throat he needed to hack up. It also sounded lower and raspier than it used to. It wasn't half bad at all. He wondered what was it that earned him his voice back and his curse lifted. Putting on a good show? If only he could put on a show again, maybe they would... Nah. They wouldn't.

He shifted in the shackles, iron making a scraping sound against stone. His eyes flashed red glares as his irises caught the light. "I'm tied up, but you're still scared of me."

Sner presumed that one word would be the closest thing he would get to his name. It was to be expected, but at least he acknowledged him. Verbally, at that. He had his attention, for some indefinite number of time.

But then Esteban continued.  Scared? No, he wasn't scared, was he? His amber gaze met the red one, and he squinted slightly, forcing himself to hold the gaze. "I see your time in the dungeons hasn't eroded your character," he remarked, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before he straightened it, giving an almost sad tilt of his head. "I see you as a person, Esteban, not a prisoner. I always fear what a person can do."

He leaned back, his hands resting on the ground behind him. "I understand that you must have a lot of reasons to loathe me... and, likewise, I have reasons to loathe you. But let's put that aside, for now." He waved his hand, as if to brush it away. "I want to hear you speak your mind. What do you think about things? About this castle? The people?"

In the face of the sheer ridiculousness of it all, Esteban couldn't not smile. Erode his character? Nothing would erode his character, though it sure as hell tried. Every time something bad happened to him -- be it what his 'father' did, finding out about his real heritage, being thrown out of school for good and leaving Owen behind, doing what he had to do to survive in the streets, what happened in that alley, then his blood greening and having to run again and leave his... 'friends', and then the running and them again with their retarded curse and then this school and its bullshit and then Owen... then Owen being as fake as the rest...

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Every time, he'd thought that that was it, there was no deeper low they could sink to. But now as he was hanging there, chained to the wall in a cold, dull dungeon, he knew that was a lie too. There was always something more awful awaiting. He just wasn't smart enough to figure it out before it happened. Which, all things considered, was probably part of their plan as well.

Being distracted with his thoughts, he wasn't really listening to Sner. Not that he particularly cared to either way. He did hear the questions, though.

"I think things are shit," he muttered, without opening his eyes. "I want to see everything burn."

Was the smile to be seen as a positive sign at all? No, Sner wagered that it was not. He couldn't be sure if the boy was even listening, but once he'd started talking, it was all too easy to allow the words to flow anyway. He'd came down here to talk, and he would do that.

The boy's answer made his face drop. Concern settled itself on his brow, and an involuntary 'tut' escaped past the twitch of his lips. The poor soul. It wasn't easy to change someone's perspective, he knew that from experience... but he could at least hear him out. Right now, more than anything, he wanted to know as much as he could. He wanted more than the blind accusations judgements that had been flung to and fro. Things were never so simple; if only they'd bothered to peel back the layers...

"Why do you think that?" he asked, his tone calm.  "What is wrong with it?"

Esteban shook, and whether it was a laugh or just a shiver, he didn't know himself. He stuck out his tongue to feel the crust of dry blood trailing down his chin, then the cut on his lip from where it'd came. His mouth was so parched. Drinking was out of the question, though. It would only prolong the suffering.

Even if the conversation was one he didn't care to be having, at least it was a distraction. Soon. He needed to hold on just a little longer. He blinked hard and forced his eyes to stay open.

"'Cuz it's been made that way." He paused for a moment to stare at Sner contemplatively. It was really dumb. The chicken wouldn't get it, he wouldn't see, no matter what Esteban said. Nobody would. They were not made to understand. "You know? I used to wonder whether you things knew what ya were, and just lying to me about not knowing. But you don't know." His tone was spitefully mocking. "Y'all fuckin' tools."

Sner leaned forwards slightly, seeming genuinely interested in what Esteban had to say. Half of him assumed that he would just spit out some bitter mumblings... And half of him was correct. But that wasn't the half that mattered.

An amused chuckle escaped him as Esteban finished off, before he shook his head, mopping his brow with a dusty hand. "If you had said that to me in my younger years, you might've been right." After smirking at the nostalgia, he straightened his back. "But, I'm afraid I must disagree with you. I know exactly what I am.... Though many others still require guidance yet." Yourself included, he silently added.

He pushed himself to his feet again, brushing off the muck that he couldn't see, before looking to Esteban again. He squinted again at the boy's face, or what he could see of it in the dim light. "If I am a tool, then it is only in my Lord's name." A smile pulled at his lips. "And there is no shame in that."

...Laughter? The chicken was laughing? In surprise, Esteban leaned back, as much as the shackles allowed him, before slumping down again, too weary to maintain any sort of a position other than hanging. He was not too weary to bark out his own hoarse laughter in response, though. What a delusional idiot. They were too kind to sent Sner there, truly, as if they wanted him to be entertained.

As he looked up to the watchman again, he grit his teeth with a grin in both amusement and bitter hate.

"You make a good tool for your God, I think. He's as made up as you are."

He didn't expect the boy to laugh. The first thing that swept through his mind was that Esteban had surely misunderstood, or else he'd not find it funny at all. But then it was his latter words that caused him to frown.

The frown itself lasted little more than a second, as Sner was quick to recover from it, replacing it with a forcibly gentle smile. He took a small step forwards, standing little more than a few feet away from the chained boy. "Made up? I have seen and touched my God. I have bathed in His blood and I have tasted His flesh. His body was my refuge. How could I possibly have made that up?"

He waved the topic away with a flick of his wrist.  "I understand that you have not yet observed His glory for yourself, however, and that is fine.... But," he tilted his head with a curious stare, "what do you mean that I'm made up?"

Esteban's eyes widened a little as the chicken drew closer. He looked him over carefully, considering his options. As tempting as it was, he doubted his ability to gather enough saliva to spit that far... and that would ruin his chances of doing anything else. Not that there were many things in the first place. Still, he'd wait a little longer, and just see...

While he didn't interrupt Sner's blabbing, the corners of his lips were curled up in a dry, mocking smirk that said everything he wanted to -- that is, 'bullshit'.

He let out a 'tchhhh' that ended as a hiss whistling through his teeth. "I can tell you," he said, shrugging with a jingle of chains. "But you won't believe it. You phony fuckers canna digest the truth." He cocked his head, mimicking Sner's gesture. "And I do know you're playin' some fucking game where you're the priest come to... wash my sins 'fore I die, or whatever..." A cough shook him, the long reply being taxing, but once he stopped, he looked up to Sner again with some sort of vicious determination. "But I ain't playin' that game with'ya."

He stared coolly as the boy spoke, brows narrowing as he went on. As foolish he appeared on the outside, he did have some sort of wit in there, even if it did collide with his warped perspective of the world. Concern crossed his expression at the cough, but as soon as it had ended, he resumed the quiet stare.

"What made you think I was playing?"
He reached to hold his chin, tilting it up towards his face. "You probably feel lost and alone in this world, don't you? No one can see things the way you do. Only you can see the truth in this dark, dark place..." With a soft tut, he slowly shook his head. "Do you really think I don't know what you're talking about?"

He studied his face carefully, before releasing the hold on his jaw. "Tell me, then. Tell me the truth. I wish to be enlightened." He stepped back, crossed his arms, and stared expectantly towards him.

Esteban's eyes widened as his chin was cradled, though they soon fell back to half-mast as even keeping that up seemed to require too much effort. His expression remained rather neutral, slightly distracted as half of his mind was devoted to calculating the chances of being able to bite the chicken's furry hand if he just pulled it off quickly enough. Before he managed to decide, though, Sner was done, and the changeling's now unsupported head dropped a few centimeters before he caught himself. Well, a chance wasted.

"Yeah," he muttered. "You don't 'ave a clue." The last thing he wanted was some religious nutter thinking he knew what Esteban was going through. Then again, this was probably the point of him being there. Mockery. Look, here's somebody sympathetic, except he's an arrogant prick and completely wrong. Enjoy.

He could just tell him to piss off and refuse to talk; be left alone again, fall back into a listless slumber. It seemed an increasingly tempting prospect. Why should he even bother? He was tired of their games... but no matter what he did, whether he went along with it, or tried defiance, he remained just a plaything.

Whatever.

"You don't exist," he said simply, peering up at Sner. "This is not the real world."

He politely ignored the mutter, but when it came to the revelation, he stopped moving. It was evident from his face that he was trying to mask his emotions, but the raise of his brows managed to slip past anyway. "That's---" absurd, he wanted to say, but he cut himself short in time.

...What an odd belief. Though, the world had its madmen, and he'd met many of their kind before. Still, they were on a different plane of understanding. One's words were certain to sound insane to the other. His eyes flicked to the boy's chest; the wounds he'd inflicted at the bay were real enough. They'd bled... but had they caused pain? Had he felt any pain at all? Suddenly, the link was made, and his face screwed with thought, remaining silent for longer than he intended.

So badly, he wanted to force the truth into his face, harp about how wrong he was and how everything was indeed real- not in just the physical sense, but emotional and.... "I see," he said with a quiet frown. "Is this not real, then?" He raised a finger, reaching to poke his finger into Esteban's forehead. "Are my words not real? Can you not hear them? If I am not real..." He squinted curiously. "...Then what is?"

As he watched how caught off-guard the chicken was, a smirk played about Esteban's lips; but as the silence dragged on, his amusement dwindled, and his head hung down slightly. Maybe if he had any energy at all left, he would be more interested in Sner's reaction, but as things were... he knew that in the end, it didn't matter at all past idle entertainment. Nothing would change.

The touch on his forehead startled him, his eyes blinking wide open and the chains jingled with his twitch. "No." He squinted, crossing his eyes to stare at the invading finger. "You can see and hear shit on the TV too, ain't mean it's real." With a sigh, he blew away a strand of hair that obscured the sight of Sner's face and looked to him curiously. How patient, holy and understanding he must have thought himself to be... self-righteous turkey. Esteban tried to feel some anger, but it fizzled out, and he decided to answer with a lazy shrug.

"The other world is. They one they didn't want me in."

How stubborn. He kept his finger trained on his forehead, until his latter remark, to which he finally pulled his hand away with a sigh. Whether he spoke of another world or a one inside his imagination was unclear, but it didn't seem to matter. Either way, he was misguided.

"What makes this world any less real than..." He leered slightly as he trailed off. Yet, but a few moments later, his look of mild irritation faded. Would trying to argue with him even reach anywhere? Perhaps he would be forced to admit that he didn't exist. That nothing existed, that all the world was merely a lie. A fabrication. Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, he could not truly convince himself of it. He could feel every breath as it escaped into the cold air. He could feel his fingers shifting inside his fist. He existed - and he was certain of that.

Regardless, he stepped back, his arms held wide to either side. "Very well, then. I do not exist. I have no power over you. There is absolutely nothing I can do to affect you in any way. You are free to go. Burn down the castle, or whatever it is you wanted to do." His expression was vague and emotionless.

Esteban was both relieved and disappointed about the fact that Sner didn't continue arguing; what came instead, though, was clearly worse. He did not for a second believe that Sner was letting him go -- it was just a new way of making him the butt of a joke... no, Sner was not the type to do that, the changeling thought as he peered at the other. It was to be twisted into some idiotic demonstration to teach him a 'lesson' and show him how he was 'wrong'. The buffoonish poultry was so predictable. Like a Saturday morning cartoon on one of those weird Christian stations, with no robots or monsters, just a bunch of kids solving problems with the power of Jesus.

Yet, he would play along. What else could he do?

He shook his arms to bring attention to the shackles. "Well, take this shit off, then." His tone was lightly, carelessly daring.

He wasn't sure what the prisoner was thinking, but when it was clear that he wasn't going to try escaping anytime soon, he shrugged both shoulders, playing clueless.  "How can I? I don't exist, do I? Neither I nor anyone can help you now. Why can you not escape on your own?" He shifted forwards, talons gliding slowly over the cold stone slabs, eyes leering over the boy's figure. As he neared him again, a hand sharply gestured to the boy's bindings. "Pray tell me this, if these chains did not exist, then why do they still keep you bound?"

He latched onto a chain, yanking as to pull his hand up. "Is it because they're real? Is it because denial won't make them go away?" His voice was biting and cold, and he had to stop himself.

Exhaling slowly through his nostrils, he continued  "Son, I beseech you-- I stand ignorant before my Lord ... and all I ask of is to understand."

Esteban narrowed his eyes, parting his lips to speak, but it seemed like Sner had too many questions to allow him a moment to answer. He glanced sidelong at his jerked hand. At least, it seemed like he got a reaction out of the chicken -- but his own anger didn't allow him any satisfaction out of that fact.

"I ain't no fuckin' son a'yours," he spluttered. Afterwards, he paused, pulling his lips into a straight line as he gathered his scattered thoughts. For some reason, he actually wanted to explain it in a way that the watchman would understand. Mostly because the idea that he did not exist seemed to irk him so.

"You ever play video games?" he asked, but then shook his head with a frown. "Never mind, prolly not. You get dreams though, right? When you sleep?" He cocked his head inquisitively. "They ain't real, are they? And do you have total control over what 'appens to ya in them? Or do you end up with a broomstick up your ass and unable to wake up?" He smirked at the thought and gave a shrug. "Like that. 'Cept it's probably not my dream."

Did the people here have to be so intent on discarding his well-intentioned titles? And he was reluctant to use his name, for a name carried so much more weight.

But he kept quiet, listening as he explained. Though he mentally noted that no, he did not play video games, he was still able to grasp the concept. He was notably unamused at the crack, but after a few moments, his contemplative leer slid into a subtle grin. "You are one very twisted boy..."

He leaned back, his arms crossed.  "What say your chances of accepting this as your real world, then? This... dream...?" He waved a hand idly, gesturing to the air around them. "Because I don't see things changing any time soon."

Esteban chortled, though it turned into a small, rattling cough. When he got over it, he gave a slight grin. "Thanks. I try," he rumbled hoarsely.

As Sner gestured around the room, the changeling let his uninterested gaze slide around the empty, dark cell. There was nothing in it. That, at least, was more honest than the rest of the world, where there was the same old nothing masquerading as something. It was not such a bad place, it seemed, he thought contemplatively. Things could remain unchanged, as far as he was concerned. Though, no doubt, the moment he accepted his current fate, it would change to worse. His magenta eyes returned to the watchman coolly.

"Would ya buy it if somebody in a nightmare tried to tell ya it was real?" A corner of his lip quirked up wryly. "Would ya want to?"

He hadn't came prepared for these arguments. He'd assumed that the boy had lacked faith in a higher power and a hopeful future before he came, and he hadn't realised that he lacked faith in the very strands of reality itself. He stumbled slightly on his words as he replied. "No-- I mean, I would eventually have to accept it, whether I wanted to or not."

He opened his mouth as if to continue, but lingered hesitantly on the words to say. He'd wanted to assure him that Csestasa would do it for a reason, and that above all, he could believe that his faith was real... but for some reason he figured that the boy would find such an argument rather unconvincing. "It's just the way things are," he eventually said.

Esteban stared, watching Sner's hesitation. There was no good answer to his question, he knew, so when a stupid one came, he was not surprised. He gave a shrug. "Accept lies, then. It's your fuckin' problem." He let his tired eyes slide shut. "You're one, anyway."

There was no point discussing it. They would never understand; they did not have the capacity to. And even if they did, why would they? Who would readily accept the idea they did not exist?

Well... if it meant the possibility that he could do away with his mockery of an existence, Esteban would gladly embrace it. Sadly, it didn't seem to be the case.

His eyes shot open with a sudden idea, and he pierced Sner with his gaze. "So you've heard my story, yo? That's what you wanted." He inclined his head. "Now end it."