Night Scents

It is not easy to focus on the sights and deeper meanings when you're struggling not to retch, he could have said. For better or worse, he decided not to.

Through squinted eyes, he observed the all-too-quickly approaching ground, briefly entertaining the idea Kale was going to kill herself here, with him as witness. It would certainly make things much more complicated... only Rendaz in charge? There was no need for that.

Richard smiled to himself with brief amusement.

"I do not know if it will be a comfort or a disappointment, but you're not special in that regard. That is my general attitude towards people... I don't wish to be subjected to the entire thing of anybody." His tone was contemplative, almost serene in the face of apparent impending danger. "Do you?"

"Of course I do." Her answer was given readily enough. "It's easier. The hardest thing for me to handle is not knowing. People, in general, are easier to take if you know about them, and you can prepare." A beat of silence. "I'm a scientist."

Wings were rigid in place, wind howling past.

"And don't worry, Richard. I never thought myself particularly special to you." It wasn't until they had passed the outer walls of the castle that the harpy flared her wings and arched her back for a sharp angle to avoid the ground. The speed at which they were going had her twisting to stay within the confines of the courtyard and making a large circle about the B.A.T. As they traveled on inertia, she let herself slow gradually until they came around to the side of the benches they had been seated on before. Kale let her legs go to land in front of her and gave a hop or two before landing with folded wings.

Richard smiled to himself. If only people were as predictable as chemical reactions.

"Call it arrogance, but I believe myself prepared even if I do not know the whole of a person." The more people he met, the more decades of his life passed, the easier reading people got... and the more he realized he would never be able to foretell what somebody may do with complete accuracy; there were simply too many factors to take into account. After a certain point, learning more about somebody was an exercise in futility and a burden. His head was too full anyway.

As they neared the ground and Kale started striving to lose momentum, he dared exhale a small sigh of relief. This was certainly not the best experience of his life. After she landed, he wriggled slightly to get out of her grasp. "It's okay," he said in a comforting tone. "We're all wrong sometimes."

Lips curled just the slightest. And that, she thought, was why he was in such a situation as he was now. But, whatever, better for her.

Standing, and feeling the little struggles of the bat in her arms, she entertained the idea of squishing him. It was only brief though, and she figured that to do so would be pointless and would only make him irritated. Instead, she extended her arms away from her and opened her hands for him to leave on his own time.

"Oh? And to what, exactly, are you referring to that I have been wrong about?" Kale raised an eyebrow in an almost amused manner, head tilting slightly.

Gladly, he spread his own wings and jumped up and off Kale's hands. After flying a few flaps away, he switched forms with the noise of a balloon rapidly expanding and landed on the ground turned away from Kale.

The moment he was back in his own body, as if to punish him for escaping, sharp pain washed through his head like a wave rolling over a shore. Wincing, he froze completely still for a moment as he waited for it to pass. It didn't, not fully, but it became bearable enough to face the harpy again. The look he gave her was slightly dazed, his shoulders hunched in the manner of a person bracing against something.

"What?" he asked brusquely, then blinked as he understood. "Oh. You know, what you said." He waved a hand. "Not being special."

The noise wasn't pleasant, and the harpy's eye twitched just the slightest as the bat returned human. Or, close enough to it. She stood waiting, and brow furrowed as he seemed slightly unsettled. Was this a natural thing upon making the change in shape? She had never before witnessed it...

Kale scoffed slightly.

"Please, Richard, you gave off the strong impression of me being nothing in your opinion. That's why we're here, aren't we? You're trying to clean up any undesirable feelings I may hold for you so they wont cause you more problems." She leaned forward slightly as if to look up into his face. "Are you quite alright?"

Slowly, as the stormy ocean in his head settled down, he straightened out his posture and blinked away the remains of his pained wince. The frown stayed, though.

He supposed that was the impression he aimed to give, and that it was the reason they were there, but... it was such a gross oversimplification. He took a breath and his lips parted to explain, but he shut them again as he hesitated. Why would he try and explain how was she wrong? How she was special? To what purpose? Just so that she knew? Honesty was refreshing, but it was treacherous -- it would not make things more peaceful. It would only muddle them further. It was better this way.

Richard crossed his arms and gave a light shrug. "Yes." The single word lingered in the air awkwardly, as if expecting to be followed by others, but Richard found none to say, regarding Kale pensively in the silence of the night-time courtyard.

A simple response. Just one, so one to all she supposed. Well, at least he seemed to pull himself together from whatever. She took a moment, glancing at his arms. Such a closed off position to take. The shrug, uncaring.

Defensive.

The edge of red lips twisted up, but it wasn't with any sort of joy or amusement. She nodded once, a small movement, and looked away and towards the ground. She knew.

She let the silence go until it seemed clear the vampire would say nothing more.

"Well, then. If that's all you wanted to say to me..." Gaze turned up to him again, giving him a last chance.

He watched her. His eyes narrowed slightly with a wry smile.

"Is it? No, I don't think it's all that we wanted to say to each other. Hardly. But I question the point of pushing this further." He shrugged again, letting his arms drop and pocketing his hands. "You never did tell me the truth, but... in the end, you will still want nothing of me, and I will want nothing but my peace. No amount of strained confessions is going to change that." The words were blunt, but his tone was simply calm, matter-of-fact. Accepting of the truth both spoken and unspoken.

She couldn't help the small scoff.

The woman eyed him a bit critically, as if trying to figure out his mind one last time. She stepped forward up to him.

"That's because I'm quiet convinced you don't really want to hear my truths." Kale stilled, posture open and inviting, unsmiling and perfectly serious. "If I'm wrong, prove it. If not, then just say so. Because you are both right and wrong on the things you have just said." He had a choice here, and she was going to make him make it now whether he knew it or not.

The harpy was just impossible.

"And you just won't let me be the judge of what I want, will you?" he muttered lowly, though with every word perfectly accented. That was somewhat of a recurring pattern with them, it seemed. Richard spread his arms and shook them a little with frustration. "I literally offered for you to stab me, if that was the truth of what you wanted. What more proof could you possibly demand?"

The harpy twitched back, affronted. The expression she gave him was nearly a sneer.

"I can not tell if you do not think, or if you just do not listen. You did judge. You choose. And you choose peace- that's what you wanted, is it not?" She scoffed, and seemed slightly disgusted by the idea. "I have no interest in harming you. I am merely trying to honor that choice of yours and I just want you to finally commit to it." Kale hissed the last low and slow. "And you did not want me, may I remind you. Because you know what, no matter what my truth is or anything else, that's what you finalized." She took a short breath, too small to really do much, but it seemed to calm her to a colder state of anger anyway.

"Do you remember what we spoke of, when we first met, and were dancing at the winter ball so long ago?"

Okay, tempers rising again. No need for that. Richard frowned disarmingly, his arms falling rather limp to his sides. "I think we're just not on the same page, really. Is it an all-or-nothing deal, then? I cannot ask you a question without first calling my earlier choice into reconsideration?" His tone was weary, but not sarcastic; it was not that outlandish to not want to confess anything to a man who would not care about it. Or maybe Kale thought her answer would upset his peace terribly. Well, he wanted some truth out of her, but nothing else - if that was impossible, then so be it. C'est la vie. There were many unanswered questions he had to live with and this was hardly the most mysterious.

He took a moment to think, standing still, then finally shook his head a little. "Mostly, yes," he said, "but I dare not guess what's on your mind, lest we pile on more misunderstandings."

A soft 'ha' escaped softly.

"We never were on the same page, were we? As for the question, it depends what you ask. I have given you my opinion, but should you ask a direct question, I will give you a direct answer." Further she reigned herself in to colder passion, voice toned to something not so fiery. A long blink and a deep breath swelled in her chest.

Kale straightened her posture, and something in her thoughts seemed to make her lighter. How had she been back then? Her chin lifted as the corner of her lips did into an easy smile. A light breeze swept around their feet. He was doing what he wanted, she should do the same. ...When had she stopped?

"Nothing is on my mind to guess. I was just wondering if you remembered it."
Her head tilted just slightly.

"So.." She trailed off, leaving it open to whatever Richard would decide to do.

"I don't think we were, no." He hummed. What was the question again? What did she want to do was the one, he thought, but he was asking mostly in hopes it would help clear the air. Kale took him for a flight, perhaps expecting he would guess, but didn't really seem to need to tell him. Well, fair enough.

The courtyard was cold, not as cold as the skies high up above, but he felt like the chill still lingered in his bones. It was dark, and out of the corner of his eye he saw shadows creeping closer across the ground, and a wind was picking up. He wanted to go somewhere light and warm, with a soft chair and a glass of whisky, more than he wanted any of her answers. And he didn't trust that smile.

He could stand a few more minutes, though. Just to see how direct she would be. Richard crossed his arms.

"Why did you ask me if I remembered, though? And what made you think of that time?"

Fair enough, really. Then again, she was let to wonder if they ever wanted to be on the same page? Isn't that what they were about- being on a better page than the other?

She looked at him curiously, a glint in her eye saying how interested she was he picked that question in particular.

"I'll answer in reverse. I thought of it because I was thinking of what I was like back then, what is different now, what I had lost. I asked you if you remembered, because I told you then something that was very important." Kale, by the word, seemed entirely more amused. She shifted her weight in a nearly cocky manner, angling shoulders opposite her hips. "To elaborate, I think I just found it. I know now what distracted me about you, and I'm cleaning the air. And as for what I had told you, I warned that if you were going to stay here, you should stay out of my business. You had assured me at the time that you would." She tsked at then end, as if to chastise him playfully for lying.

The wind did't seem to be getting stronger, but the air felt off. Like the pressures had changed and a storm was coming in to right it all again. She had made a decision, thought it out. Him coming back had unexpectedly thrown that to the back of her mind, but it was about time she sorted it all out. That was why he called her here, right? Perhaps it did just need to happen with him here, that this was what she needed after all: a reminder.

Richard watched her strangely, seeming more perplexed the longer she spoke. When she was done, though, he couldn't help but crack a slight, disbelieving grin. Yes, perhaps she did have a point, perhaps if he had stayed out of her business, if talking to Pingo hadn't sent him to her room, none of this would have happened. It was both an amusing and a saddening thought. So much pain could have been avoided if he'd just stayed away.

"Did I? I remember no such thing, though," he said, cocking his head. "I said that I would remain  neutral for as long as your business... local business, rather, did not personally concern me." He looked away to the dark silhouettes of plant life that was their audience, seeming as if they were watching them tensely. The whole castle seemed as if it had paused to watch, the atmosphere pressing down. "Sadly, I let it become personal. And for what? The folly idea that maybe I could live again. That maybe you could help me with that." He looked to her again with a cynical smile. "Four hundred years back, I chose death over life. It's four hundred years too late to change my mind."

Her expression flattened to something that she might give something she knew exactly what it was, a common thing, and had no particular opinion on it. The woman was silent for a moment. When she did speak, it was slow, as if each word were deliberate.

"Perhaps...you should consider counseling." The harpy's head tilted and a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. "Life isn't one choice, Richard. You keep choosing. I responded to you, I might have helped, but you did not give me the chance. And I don't really think you ever will." Kale paused a beat in between. "I think you will always be too scared. You'll take that one step to redirect everything, then when you realize there is a risk involved you scramble backwards and try to set it all back again. Am I wrong?"

Richard leveled her a scowl, though not an unamused one. For counseling to work, the patient needed to believe he needed it. He didn't. That was the whole thing, really.

"Death is one choice, though. Yes, you are wrong." Shaking his head slightly, he took a step forward to close some distance between them. "Even now, you just don't understand. Partly, you do, but it's always like a child trying to draw. There is a head and eyes, but it's just a circle with two dots. More like an atom than a person." A scientist, indeed... drawing on assumptions and shorthand beliefs. Not that he was innocent of that, mind you...

He crossed his arms, contemplating her form, just a few paces away and yet so far. "I think it's quite tragic, don't you?" His voice was low and quiet, as he wanted to preserve their privacy despite the growing feeling they were watched. "How badly we wished the other would, for once in this miserable world, understand."

While she watched him sharply as he spoke, she stayed silent and near completely still. It was only when he was done, that she breathed a laugh and looked away briefly away and down to the side.

"Fine." Eventually, her look made it's way back to him. Conceding with some humor. "I'm wrong." It didn't really matter anymore, and this wasn't worth the fight. There were too many retorts to make that would get them absolutely no where. "And tragic though it may be, I think it more sad we thought the other could when we're both so stuck in deceitful habits."

Her laughter was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It was certainly better than many other things that could have been in its place. He cocked his head a little, raising a brow. "Are we? I don't know. I know I am, though. And I know you deserve better than that." He paused a beat, then shrugged, a little lamely. "Than me."

A bird chirped.

Really? Kale mirrored his expression with raised brow, though perhaps a little more of an incredulous tint. Her hands moved to sit on her hips.

"Do you really believe that?" He couldn't honestly think so well of her as to possibly believe she hadn't been deceitful in something. And really, what was this about deserving something better than him? "Is that really one of your reasons?"

For a moment, Richard wasn't sure if her surprise was genuine. He squinted briefly. "...Yes? One of the bigger ones, frankly." He spread his arms a little. "I'm terrible, and I'm kind of a wreck. I thought you were too. I thought maybe there was nothing in you that I could ruin. That turned out not to be true." He rubbed his chin, giving the castle a sidelong look. "Entirely selfishly, I could not bear the thought of bringing somebody down with me again, and... well, decided not to."

No wonder he didn't tell the truth often -- it was just so clumsy and awkward compared to the freeform poetry of lies.

All amusement was gone. Her look was completely and utterly piercing.

"And what did you find that you could ruin?" Honestly? Truly? There was nothing left in her that could be brought down any farther. Had he honestly been fooled? "And when?" She had not thought she had given him any sort of impression that was such...

Richard drew his gaze back to her, parting his lips to speak -- and leaned back a little, startled by her expression. Honestly, that desire to quantify and describe everything was one of the things that could be turned down a bit. But, Kale just wanted to understand. And he could not begrudge her that. He took a deep breath and ignored the pang of pain in the back of his head.

"You're smart, you're beautiful, you're capable, you're full of life. You... reached out to me. You were willing to accept me, to trust me to some degree, when it was clear it does not come to you easily. Me." With a breathy chuckle, he put his palm flat on his chest. "The last person you should choose for that. I may have thought you naive, but I could not let you... let me..." His hand slid down, arm hanging limply by his side again. "Let that down."