"Booker Speech" "Louie Speech"

Assertively removing himself from Booker's grasp had turned out to be a bad thing and he watched as the pain and hurt flashed across his face within moments, but it died as soon as it came. Louie made no move to step forward, to comfort. Both souls were screaming to come together, for Louie to just leave behind whatever life he had had and help the Priest regain who he used to be. No more talks of death as they would both lay curled together underneath the comfort of the monarch's shade. It was an ideal world. Just reflected in a shaky breath.

PRETENDER

To recognize that he had only met suffering when seeking to help others, it was hard for Louie not to laugh back at him. Instead he just sat, listening to the spiel of everything that had gone wrong. The mention of Baratheon had struck a sore spot, but he hadn't actually been aware that there was trouble within this seemingly perfect relationship of mammal and reptile. It was certainly news to him. That ferocity in his voice dripped with a venom he hadn't seen since he had claimed his name was Barnett. Was this not Booker? No. It had to be him, there were no laughing jabs and for once he actually felt compassion for the creature in front of him. So it had to be him... It just had to be.

Booker's anger died as he made whispers about how it wasn't mercy that had gotten him this far. Just the fate that he had managed to get out alive through luck. That no one was watching him as he trekked unattended through the minefield of enemies. Usually, one would consider it amusing but it just made the corners of his lips angle down further. It was depressing.

There was talk of suicide, and the skin prickled on the back of his neck. For the first time his facade broke, his scowl replaced by wide eyes and a whine caught in the back of his throat. Seconds ticked by as he fumbled for a footing to stand. But he kept slipping backwards. Louie didn't know how to react to things without anger, and he snarled, "Suicide?! That's what you're thinking? " Perhaps it struck so close to home as that was the only thing he hadn't let himself consider. To him, it was considered the coward's way out. One who couldn't deal with their problems just allowed themselves to die.

COWARD

No it wasn't pride, it definitely wasn't that Louie was sure of it. There were some other mechanics at play that kept the fated pair apart. It was what kept the mental blockage in his mind, "I don't give a fuck what you think. If you take your life I'll..." Kidnap you and force you to remain in my den forever. Just like last time. He trailed off and stared at Priest. A mixture of hatred and pain. If he would walk the path of a murderer, a creature with only hatred. Just like Booker had said, he had accepted and embraced his path. Whereas Booker only feared it. But there was nothing to fear and he couldn't understand why the numbat chose to steer away from it.

"You act like you're better than me. Better than what you really are. Just accept that this world is FUCKED." Louie spat on the ground. "There are wolves, and there are rabbits. I've chosen to be a wolf." The analogy didn't really work in a world full of talking animals. But it was all he could really come up with. "You've chosen to sit back and mourn over what you've done. You say your suffering is your way of coping but it's wrong. Embrace what you are and then... We can be together." his voice was dangerous. But he was sick and tired of the numbat playing victim, he had to accept that he wasn't some magical man with healing abilities that would let him stroll through life easily.

Moving around to the side of the numbat, he was inches from touching him but he needed to move along. So poisonous, so hateful.

@Booker

The smile stayed in place, frigid in his pride. Cycles of being shamed and manipulated for every choice he made on his own had changed him, made him strong in all the wrong ways. "Yes. Suicide. It's not exactly a new idealization, love. I don't remember the last time I was happy." The words were plain and soft, gentle, trying not to upset the fox more than he obviously already had. Priest sighed, shaking his head, more discomforted by the reaction that anything else - because it almost looked like Louie cared, and this constant tug-of-war between the fox downright mocking him and turning around to protective anger was getting... well. Tiring.

Like everything else in his life.

"I have nothing but myself, and that is a vessel without a name or a family. I love, but that love is spent on those who are brutalized, tortured, and destroyed - or those that do not return it." The smile faltered, and Priest looked away, ears flicking backwards. "Or both." His eye closed, and the numbat rubbed at it, deflating by the moment. "I love you, Louie... and I try not to lie to those few I call family. I don't even remember how to be happy."

Oh, but he could imagine it - in a perfect little world where Louie would give in, take Iliad and keep them all safe in Eridanus, a tiny family, well away from harm. They could try to save Odyssey too, before the Merry Men imploded, an inevitable conclusion to such a pit of hatred and disgust. Spending the rest of this life with someone who actually gave a damn, instead of haunted by ghosts who asked him why he'd dissected them, torn muscle from bones and drank blood when it gushed from wounds. Tracked into sleep by nightmares of Baratheon's death in glorious technicolor, watching their connection tear away with the force of the eternal end, the healed scar in his mind that still oozed pus as a reminder of what could happen if he let himself get too close.

Too intertwined.

Because when Priest loved, he loved enough to cut a piece out of himself, let the recipient take it and keep it, cherish it or bite into it with sharp teeth or set it on fire or mutilate it until it was nothing but neatly wrapped veins, because he didn't know how to love any less. It would kill him one day, he was sure.

If he didn't do the job himself.

The numbat's cloudy gaze narrowed thoughtfully at Louie's outrage, a tiny smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You'll what? Yell at me from this side of Death?" The tone held no mockery, but then again, Priest wasn't exactly sure how to mock someone who seemed genuinely concerned about... him. Which was strange and new and old and... disconcerting. "I won't guilt you into a commitment you're not ready to make, Louie. Yes, I have considered... well. A permanent leave of absence from this place. I don't say it to upset you, only to be honest."

With that, the mask was slammed back in place, and Priest looked on placidly at the fox's rage, cane steady on the floor, even when spittle lined its sides. The numbat's gaze sharpened, roamed over Louie, but he stayed silent until the man's speech was over. "What I am is a weak man who has no name, face or stature in this world, and I will not be proud of being nothing." He frowned, then, a bit of concern gentling the monotone. "And I'm afraid coping might be too strong of a word. I survive, yes. I don't think I've ever truly coped with much of anything, now have I?"

Priest smiled, kind - but still infuriatingly calm. "Perhaps, when I become something, I will embrace it. For now I am a shell that has committed crimes too great to truly atone for." The smile twitched into a grim line. "We are both stained by our choices, no matter if they were made out of guilt or anger, pride or lust for power. I do not look down on you for accepting your own, growing from it. I simply do not hold the power to do the same."

An odd, feverish light broke out over his gaze. "I suppose you were right - I always was rather weak, wasn't I? Well. That won't change by taking pride in my crimes. I will learn to be strong in my own way." He grinned when the fox came closer, leaned forward to smooth back whiskers, placing a gentle kiss at the edge of Louie's muzzle, unconcerned by the power the fox had over him. "If I had my way... of course we would be together. I love you too much not to be selfish about it. But I won't stoop to the level of my brother," Priest whispered, expression slowly returning to its natural, gentled stare, awe in his eyes. "I'm afraid I love you too much to make you love me back."

@Louie

"Booker Speech" "Louie Speech"

Knowing that he had toyed with it before made him visibly wince, his ears laying flat on the back of his head. But the strong feelings of anger towards it were still present as he watched Booker try and talk his way out of this. So he went on speaking about how he no longer had anything to go on for. That there was no family and no name for him. Words confirmed that he did indeed still love the fox in front of him, but it seemed to come out so worthless. Like he really didn't care anymore. Tired, and in being tired he had forgotten was worth it in life.

There was a challenging tone about what Louie would do when he died and he bit his tongue to stop himself from retorting straight back. Commitment was mentioned and he held his breath at the notion that that was what Booker was asking. For him to settle down and go back to Eridanus and just remain forever happy with his little numbat husband. Louie hadn't actually conceived of this notion, he had never considered himself tied down to anyone. An agent of his own free-will with the ability to try, love and fuck anyone who he had the passing fancy of. It was only putting it into words that he realized maybe that wasn't what he had been all along. That he had allowed himself to remain monogamous towards Booker without even truly recognizing that was who he was holding out for in body and soul. There were times where he wanted to find physical comfort in Booker, but he had never had that feeling towards others and he wasn't sure why that would be. Magdalena was a beautiful woman, but her words were toxic and the addition of her Fire only made that relationship even more complicated to conceive of. Diamondfang as well was an eligible lover, but whatever they had going between them was certainly twisted and in no ways pointing towards a functioning relationship.

Quietly, he sat thinking about the truth behind Booker's words. He wasn't ready for commitment, but he had been acting as though he was without even thinking about it. What could you even call what they had? Was it a relationship? A ship that had beached itself on the rocks as its participants proceeded to throw themselves headlong off the front of the bow wailing about how they knew the ship was faulty. "You'd only be leaving those who care about you behind. Why would you think that's a better solution?" Even in his quiet contemplation he didn't drop the burning heat from showing through his voice. How could he think that was the solution to fixing his problems, to repairing the connections he had broken with his family and friends.

"Killing doesn't make you nothing..." he whispered. No it couldn't, it was what made Louie into something. It was what gave him a purpose knowing that there was such a fine line between life and death. If it became blurred he wasn't sure if he would be able to continue, becoming nothing more than the stone moving husk he had been at the Spire. It just had to be something, it had to mean something.

Further he just listened to what the man had to say. As he explained his reasoning behind his non-acceptance of the crimes he had committed. Eventually, it got through the man's thick, ignorant skull that there would be no changing of the numbat's opinion. Ears still flat against his skull, he heard the man speak over how he would become strong in his own way, and then he felt the brush of soft, fuzzy lips against the side of his muzzle and he pulled away. Flushing deeply beneath his fur, he straightened up and continued to gaze straight ahead, the scowl was still furrowed on his face, the corners of his lips curling the tiniest bit as his stomach roiled with butterflies and rage.

"No. You won't keep me away for that. There are just so many more reasons why we can't exist." His scowl didn't soften, and his lips dropped back to the flat line they had been this entire conversation, "Maybe I'm not selfish enough. Maybe I don't love you as much as you love me. I won't leave you hanging on my last apology this time though." Tail curling under himself, he sat down. No longer would he take steps to leave. It would just break him further, but he was stronger now. No more taking the coward's way out. He would be strong. For himself and for Booker. "I will continue doing what I do. I want Origin cave. Hasira was a fool, but I'm reborn. This isn't a second chance just a continuation of my goal. It will be achieved Booker. People will die because of me and I will only watch as their blood paints a path for me to what I want most." He still never looked down at the numbat, he kept his face in an area where the small snout of the man couldn't reach him. "The Merry Men are weak. But I will make them strong. Maji Walezi... Bonebound. They have grown soft in their complacency with where they are. We have all failed to be what the Original Origin inhabitants should have been. Powerful." Now, it was to get onto touchy subjects. Completely unaware that Booker indeed knew, "As well as the danburite, I have another child. With Magdalena. He is stronger than what the danburite turned out to be. I've tested Iliad and he is weak. But I don't rely on them to atone for my own mistakes anymore. I can be better than that." Slowly he was becoming more and more hyped up on whatever thrill seeking junky feeling he was getting out of just talking about this, almost completely forgetting he was supposed to be explaining why he had indeed created with the borzoi mistress.

"It doesn't matter anyway. All they need to be is good at following orders. Odyssey trains a lot with Magdalena. Iliad is unwilling. He will come around." Louie would make him come around, "The genetics in Odyssey, our joint child, are strong. A combination of the two most powerful prokaryotic creatures. The original harbourer of the element and his student. It wasn't out of love or lust, it was out of strategy. Odyssey will have unrivaled strength of the bacterial world." A breath, finally, he was slowing down after his spiel and he had almost forgotten his whole reason for mentioning this.

"I just... I need this. Once it's done you can sit beside me. But... That is my true calling Booker. Not you, not anyone. I have to do this for myself. I was lost before. So scared. But I've found myself."

@Booker

Priest chuckled, low in his chest, at the fox's response - it was a soft, sad thing; he'd expected nothing less than abject rejection, anyhow. "Those who care? Who? Show me them, and I will stay a while, for their ease of mind. I am, after all, nothing but a puppet, hm? Why should it matter how I feel, when it might hurt someone else," the numbat hissed, disgust thick in his voice as he turned away. "I am in control of my own destiny, as are you. Show me someone who needs me to stay, and I will... at least take them into account. But I won't be guilted out of trying to find some semblance of peace, not when I've never known more than a day of it."

A deep breath, and the calm, cool, and collected mask slipped back into place. "I was nothing long before I killed, Louie. I can't comment on your experiences, only my own." His words were soft, defeated, almost slurred from sheer exhaustion, the adrenaline beginning to leave him at a trickling pace. "What I do now determines my identity... and I won't change it for you, or anyone else." That, it seemed, was the end of that, the only sign Priest was still listening being his twitching ears. At least the fox sat down - a sign he wouldn't flee again, off into the unknown.

Except for the part where Priest had been pretty sure he'd killed the bastard, but then again, he didn't know his own name, so his memory wasn't exactly the most reliable.

"Perhaps you don't," the numbat droned, turning to peer at Louie curiously. "I'd imagine that to be a question you'd have to answer for yourself. I only know myself, what little there is of it." And he'd been hoping, praying, that perhaps death had passed some of its wisdom to the other man, tempered his lust for power, but it obviously hadn't. Perhaps even it had been able to sense a hopeless cause where Priest still clung on. Blankly, he stared, leaning on his cane, saying nothing - nothing until a pause in the fox's words.

The fire burned in his paws, wanting to mark, scar - it would be so easy, now, with Louie so open, practically aggrandizing his own destiny.

Then again, he'd already boiled fat away from the fox's belly once, felt silky fur turn black and brittle. It almost felt unfair to do it again.

"Your path is one that will only end in destruction," he finally murmured, sighing, staring off into space, anger and nausea roiling in his gut. "Your own, most horribly. I don't know why you so enjoy destroying every chance at true happiness you come across, but it's as fascinating as it is depressing," Priest added, grimacing. "You'll end up just as bad as Baratheon - excusing every crime, taking no blame or punishment, slowly poisoning every relationship you have until they wither and rot. It happened to him, and he didn't even choose this path. I don't know what awaits you, but I will not be destroyed again!"

Vicious depression made his voice rough and barking, and Priest turned, moving away from the fox, the urge to use his cane for something other than walking too strong to handle. "Do what you must. I am glad, genuinely, that you have found what you feel you need." Slowly, he turned again, scrutinizing the fox's face. "I already know of your... family. Physical strength isn't everything, my lo- Louie." The numbat's wrinkles deepened, skin pulling tight. "Iliad is strong of mind and heart, and if you plan to break him of that, to try and turn him into... into some kind of weapon, I - I can't even comprehend doing that to a child. To your own son!" The words ripped his throat, but the imagined, fleeting images did worse - of a gentle child turned into a war machine, lost innocence and damnation.

Of a child as abused and twisted as he was.

"I was made nothing by people who wanted me to be something I wasn't." Bitter tears flooded his eye, and Priest rubbed at them, angry, the familiar skitter of a panic attack just outside his orbit. "Odyssey... well. He certainly takes after his mother. Whatever could be done to him already has. But Iliad, he can be happy, Louie," the numbat added, voice hoarse, hands clenching around his cane. "If you won't let yourself be, at least spare him."

And finally, the question he'd wanted to ask since the beginning, since before Louie had crystallized, crept from his throat, raw and pained, tear-thick, afloat in a sea of disbelief. "Who is Booker? I am Priest! It is the only thing I have and I swear, I swear, Louie, you can't take it away from me too. It's all I have left."

@Louie

"Booker Speech" "Louie Speech"

Playing the victim was the wrong strategy but he didn't bother answering the rhetorical question. Priest was wrong if he thought no one cared about him but Louie had no sense of mind to bother explaining. Disgusted by his reaction to his wanting to commit suicide, Louie was merely off put that he thought that was the only way he could achieve peace. Damaged beyond repair was what the numbat considered himself and it was a fallacy. No one was damaged beyond repair. Still he did not argue, his tail merely twitching the only sign of his disagreement with what was being said. The slight rock of his head side to side. That comment about killing and hurting others did nothing but make his scowl deepen.

By no means did he expect Booker to follow his life advice. How could he offer life advice when his own wasn't picture perfect anyway. Almost like a life coach who was sitting in rock bottom coaching the stars above them. A tense silence passed between the two, the air almost crackled at the tension before Booker began to speak again. There was relief, that he wasn't the one required to begin the conversation over as he hadn't had the intention of speaking again for quite some time. Everything he wanted to get out of his system was already out there. It felt good unloading this burden, after taking his first breaths he had set out a plan and Booker had the pleasure of being the first set of ears it fell upon. Almost a broken record at this stage, Booker began to tell him how he was setting out on a path of his own destruction. That he would end up damaging himself more than the others around him and again he just rocked his head side to side.

His ears perked up, and the snarl returned to his face when he compared him to the dragon and he stood up jerkily. "HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO COMPARE ME TO YOUR FUCK BOY OF A DRAGON." It was a roar. "Do you think I'll excuse myself? Not accept the punishment. I fucking lay dying in that chrysalis because of admitting to the mistakes I made. Killing Wynry was dishonourable. There was no pleasure in dispatching him just by dropping him off a cliff. It was my first taste. You know that. I fucking told you that. It was good. But I've woken up and realized that it was nothing more than a coward's tactic." Again he was about to burst into a rant, but he stopped himself. Why did he offer him an explanation. Both spoke of how they cared for each other but they chose to prod and mock. Laugh at the other's decisions and tell them how they were wrong. No healthy relationship would ever emerge from something like that. Again the numbat chose to mock, if he was really glad he found his calling then he wouldn't have compared him to the wretch.

Pet names were dropped, and Louie found himself tensing and relaxing the muscles in his shoulder. An itch to smack the rodent into the side of the wall was waiting to be scratched but he resisted. Tears came to Booker's eyes but Louie just kept his firm gaze on him, he didn't allow himself to soften. What did he care whether Iliad was destroyed and broken down. If his son was strong, he would then persevere and show it to be true. If he was weak, his death and final breaking were only a matter of time. Apparently, it was the many chapters of his life that had led the Priest to this point and Louie just shook his head for what felt like the thousandth time. He was nothing because he let himself become nothing. "Iliad..." Hesitation. Whether his morals would allow himself to torture the boy, yes, his son, he wasn't entirely sure. There were no eyes to reflect the feelings inside, he was a blank slate. Inside and out he was nothing more than an object, there was nothing that could express emotion. Even unseeing eyes had something. One eye was even better than nothing. He wrestled with whether or not to admit he had feelings for his damaged son. Maybe he was hoping to just keep him under his paw out of contempt for Booker. But those claws were turning into the perfect weapons, and Odyssey... Odyssey wouldn't be useful without his brother around. "Iliad stays with me." The finality in his voice was absent, blank enough to show that it wasn't out of pure hatred. The mole fox was just useful.

Finally, they came to a point at which Louie could no longer handle the conversation, and his breath was punched out of him. Yes, the vessel in front of him was Booker, but he'd experienced this before. Barnett, the rat he had had the pleasure of meeting in the tunnel not far from here. A few steps sideways, away from the creature who wasn't what he said he was. Priest wasn't Booker, but Louie hadn't quite made the connection. Yes, there was an inkling of it, before he had died and in some of the mannerisms he was displaying but he hadn't expected his thoughts to be true. The vulpes hadn't had much experience with hive minds, his understanding from his encounter with the third half of the system that was... did it even have a name? "No." it was spoken certainty, confirmation, "]I didn't think you were. But you are not Barnett. Whatever the fuck you are. It's not you I love... It's Booker." Dig himself a deeper hole, but the tears welled behind his eyes, invisible to anyone looking at him. "I don't know what's going on in your sick little head. But I've experienced Barnett. I know there are more of you in your damaged skull. What are you I don't know. Twisted and sick halves of the man I love I don't know." The confusion and concern was creeping him out and his flesh was crawling all over his body and his stomach continued to turn the constant flips, "Booker.... Booker I know you're there. What's going on I'm not sure. Khloros must have made you sick... Maybe I did." Had he? Nah. Warily, he continued to eye the Priest, Booker, Barnett system. "If you're gone... Then..." Well... He'd be free to love whoever he wanted.

The thought made him sick.

@Booker

He's quickly losing hold on the situation, falling back into the familiar position of prey. The violence sparking in Louie's tone, his posture, it all screams of wanting to devolve back into a fight - and suddenly it's just... too much. It's too much, because he'd risked his goddamn life for the fox, for someone who'd never done anything for him. The man who gave him a sickness that still locks his joints, fogs his thoughts. The image of Louie blurs with the shadow of Baratheon, sharp teeth and claws, the green glow replaced with red, and for a minute Priest's breath catches in his throat, stutters as he steps backward, fear and anger tensing his muscles.

His eye clenches shut, hard enough for spots to dot the black behind his lid. Nothing bad will happen. His breath slowed. I won't leave you. Inhale. You're safe and that's important. Exhale. You don't have to help him and if he doesn't let you, then there is no point in you staying around with him. Priest let out a bark of laughter, running a shaking paw down his snout - Bones had meant the dragon, but the fox fit just as well. The memory helped, steadied him.

He had been loved, once.

You're smart, and you're strong.

You don't have to believe anything he says.

Anything anyone says.

He just had to remember that, and he could survive this. Walk away without losing even more of himself to someone whose love was too fragile to support anyone but its owner, too angry and cruel to let anyone go without marking them forever.

I missed you, Booker.

Priest's clouded eye, destroyed by the light of fire and the decimated link to a dragon long gone, opened to fix on Louie, meeting his anger head-on with... exhaustion. It deepened the wrinkled scars that littered his pelt, made his posture look rigid and weary. The cane was steady in his hand, Eve's gift glowing bright in its holster. He could do this.

For Bones... and for the danburite, damned to spend an eternity suffering like his tiny, unwanted protector.

"Then he will die with you, as broken and adrift as I am now." Priest eyed the fox, trying to find any hint of something, anything to grab onto, because - because he loved Louie. He did. He probably always would... but this spinning cycle would kill them both, if they didn't break it. And the fox had been, perhaps, right: he did have someone to live for. The Pillar wouldn't be joined in the afterlife until Priest had become strong, strong enough to never, never let himself hurt so many people again. He wouldn't be a monster.

He wouldn't be like Louie.

"I am Priest, and I am Booker, I am Barnett, and every other name you can throw my way, fox," the numbat murmured, an undercurrent of astonishment at his own gall thickening the words. "I take them gladly, for they are familiar." Hazel-black gaze narrowing, Priest stepped forward, straightened up, puffed out his chest, felt strength fill him to the marrow. His Pillar, his Seer, his Guardian - he would live for them. Live for the dead. The dead couldn't throw off his devotion, make him regret it.

"Khloros was a good friend, a better brother. No. The people who broke me all tried to make me fit into their little roles. Rider," Priest murmured, a shaky hallucination of Baratheon lurking at the corner of his vision. "Friend." Belladonna grinned from the ceiling, oozing to drop onto the floor. "Brother." Magdalena's breath bathed his back. "Love." The holy leader stared into Louie's glowing green eye, its color reminding him of emeralds drenched in venom, bubbling acid amidst peridots.

"I will always love you, that much should be obvious. I risked my life to bring news of your vulnerability to your family. Magdalena could have killed me then, had she felt the need," Priest added, snout wrinkling. "If you can't love all of me, everything that I am, the way I do you - even the parts that make my stomach roll, my mind revolt - can't even let me try to make this work, then..."

It's okay.

Everything's going to be okay.

"...then please, just. Don't hurt me anymore. Please."

He'd fly apart, this time.

And no one would care to piece him back together.

There is - was - an image in his mind, a cushy, perfect life with his second chance at normality. His insatiable attraction to anyone he can fix is never ending, it seems. Baratheon and Magdalena were utter failures. He had to face up to it, eventually.

No one will ever change for him.

But, maybe, one day, he'll find someone who won't mind him the way he is.

"Booker Speech" "Louie Speech"

A silence followed and in it, he found himself seething rather than calming down. It was the hot nature of his that would rather spend time pouring gasoline on the fire even if it ended up licking at his own heels. No, he didn't understand the system dynamic and even if he did, he only wanted Booker. None of the others that were associated with his name. Besides if there were multiples of him, why didn't he show himself as the one who Louie held an attachment to?

"You make cryptic predictions but you know nothing about my son or my family." Magdalena wasn't considered one of the family, at least not beyond the mother of his child. It appeared her relationship with Nemesis ran deeper than it ever would for the fox and he had come to accept that. Both of them were treasured friends, even the rhino if he had to get down to it, but none truly understood him. It appeared Booker didn't either just like he had no idea what to make of Booker anymore. Yes, he'd been damaged. Thrown and tossed around like nobody's business and maybe it was from Louie's never being the victim that he couldn't empathize with the situation. Khloros was a friend, and he had to let his feelings relent to the revelation but he started listing people who'd damaged him and he felt himself biting back a snarky retort. The fox didn't understand, he couldn't comprehend the creature he was as he stared at the numbat who he felt threw himself under the bus to come out the other side as the victim. Who played upon people's feelings to try and string them along and get what he wanted out of them.

It never occurred to him that he was playing the same. But it was his inability to detect sincerity in a voice that was leading to the crashing end of the situation. Louie wasn't tired, it was his next lease on life and he wouldn't let himself be anchored down by this situation. If he dwelt upon it and let him consume him, he'd never amount to anything. Before Louie would have allowed it to happen. New Louie saw that it was his relationships with others, where he felt feelings towards them that he became conflicted. A deep breath was drawn, as Booker explained how he'd risked his own life to bring Magdalena and the kids to his grave site, "They didn't have any right to know, they could've just as easily been left in the dark. Though I appreciate what you've done." Maintaining a control on his voice, it was spoken flat. The fire in his eyes was gone as he'd just reached the end of this line.

Easily they could've left side by side, but it was his own arrogance and Booker's kind heart that stopped them. This wasn't some star crossed lover situation anymore as they were inflicting deep scours that would struggle to be repaired. "I'm not sure what you're exactly asking of me Priest." It sounded like a break up, maybe it was a break up? Truthfully Louie wasn't entirely sure what it was but it sounded like it was over. It hurt his heart and his ears had flattened against his skull, his tail no longer twitching angrily.

"But until I've done what I needed to do this isn't going to work. We're not suited for each other. Not that way we are and I don't see it anytime soon... Anytime in the future as being an opportune time for us to be together." Now his voice had begun to waver and he wasn't going to walk out. Booker could be the first to leave, in fact he expected it and with his eyes lidded, he just waited for whatever the numbat wanted to chuck back at him. He had calmed down, and he was done with the fire flinging and insincere words.

@Booker

A long, whistling sigh eased out of Priest's nostrils, and he shook his head slowly, not bothering to correct the assumption - after all, he doubted Louie knew just how connected Magdalena and the numbat were, nor that his own son had effectively waltzed into his mind. "There is nothing cryptic in demise. I wish it was not so, but it is a path many have wandered, and there is no glory in it. No triumph in death." Not even his own eventual passing would be a triumph; his victims wouldn't be at peace, and he had no great cause to die for.

The scribe watched, placid and with a sense of sickly peace calming his blood. Louie obviously either hadn't listened or didn't want to, couldn't comprehend true honesty - but then, Priest had no idea what to make of him, now. He never had. The fox was an amalgamation of negative traits, wrapped up with a bow that practically screamed help me! It had been irresistible to that little piece of himself that was devoted to healing, fixing, closing wounds and tying pieces back together.

Priest ruthlessly stomped that segment down, crushed it under a mental foot. He would care for his flock. Nothing more. "I would disagree, but considering Magdalena's response, I almost wish I had left them in the dark." A tiny, sentimental smile twitched at black-lined lips. "Then again, I wouldn't have met Iliad. I needed to know he was alright, more than anything. I might love you, Louie, but I am a selfish man." He'd only needed that one look at the danburite, the devotion and protectiveness from its caretaker, to become attached - especially when that connection frayed and died as soon as it had come, presumably because of the hybrid's disabilities.

And that... stung. Like a fresh knife crossing his chest, because truly, how had he ever thought he'd be good enough, fit into Louie's plans, when the man had rejected his own son for birth defects? He'd been a fool, too old for his history, too young and stunted to know any better. Their roles had changed, now.

It felt strange, not to be terrified of Louie. Not to fear sharp teeth tearing into his stomach, ripping him apart, globules of disease coating his fur. Now, all he saw was a man, eagerly clinging to any control he could muster, no matter how terrible the cost. "I'm asking you to choose what is more important: power or love. If it is the former, you do yourself no favors in stepping foot in Eridanus." His tone had gone positively frosty, cane rasping against the floor. "Do what you must. Kill, if that is what you are meant for. But the forest is protected, and I will die for it."

Perhaps he had, indeed, found a purpose - a cause to focus his anger, the surge of lustful energy that swelled when he thought of digging claws into meat and teeth into fat. "But if you change your mind... or want to talk about this like adults, without the petty anger," Priest added, raising an eyebrow, "including the ugly parts... I'll be waiting."

He couldn't ever give up, not really.

He'd always known love would kill him.

"Booker Speech" "Louie Speech"

There were so many things he wished to make comment on but he didn't. So he'd met Iliad and that was intent all along. Strange how he'd gone back to saying I love you, the situation had defused immensely. Nothing nasty was being said on both ends and Louie drew another long breath. Looking down at the tiny man, he could see the determination in his eyes as he spoke and he wanted to blow him backwards with just one long drawn out breath. The size difference was so amusing, and he found himself smiling even just thinking about it.

Another long pause as he considered the choice he was given, but he had always had it. Always he chose the wrong one. "There is no choice as I can maintain both. But the sequence requires one before the other." Referring to how he'd fight for power and control first before settling back and allowing himself to feel love, let himself enjoy it. Then he mentioned Eridanus and he shrugged his shoulders, "I have no qualms with the Cult Cats and the worshippers of the All Mother. Eridanus will remain unharmed as they pose no threat and maintain no power themselves." Besides, he was by no means a religious man but he could respect what they were sharing among themselves as faith. It wasn't like the All Mother preached a violent lifestyle.

Again the numbat had to prod and test him by saying he hadn't spoken like an adult. Petty anger. It made no sense and he snorted, the smile erased from his features as he looked towards the tunnel leading back towards Polaris. "Whatever, Booker. If I need you, I know where to find you. It's where you've always been." There was a sly, unnoticed jab at the numbat's stagnant lifestyle. One he couldn't choose himself and would likely never submit to when there so many other reasons to live. With a flick of his tail, he made to move away the numbat.

That kiss on his muzzle still burning the skin beneath his thick fur.

-exit Louie-

@Booker

He relaxed, at least, at the promise that Eridanus was safe - but he doubted it would stay that way, with Louie's nigh-eternal thirst for power. The fox would no doubt kill him now, if he didn't have some far-fetched hope of having his help someday, after the caves were full of death and destruction again.

It made him wonder if Louie ever knew Booker in the first place.

He hoped he was wrong, predicting the fox's swift and brutal demise. Hoped there was some portion of a good man, locked away under all that revolting ideology. It was the same wish he'd had for Magdalena, once; but that had slowly faded, tamped down by repeated exposure. The dog was nothing but an animal... and soon, Louie would become one, too.

Priest turned from the sight of the stranger slinking away - again - and tried to cut away at the hopeful sprout that had lingered around his heart since that day, watching green gemstone encapsulate his tormenter. There was nothing for him to help, here. The fox had made his choice, and it wasn't his place to change his mind, anymore.

He spared the exit tunnel one last icy glare, thinking of being ambushed under the Monarch, of a disease sinking into his veins slowly but surely, of his brother's mind rotting from the torment. Picking sharp glass out of paw pads and hiding them, carrying them back. They were still hidden away, tipped with Louie's blood.

"That is not my name."

And then he started the long journey home, back to a cavern full of people who at least listened to him. Feared him. Respected him. Looked up to him, when it came to the youngest Gembounds. Perhaps Louie had been right. He would hurt them, leaving - Todd, Marigold, Morpheus, even Diot's spirit. He would stay.

For now.

For Bones.

[ exit Priest ]