[ Positioned like this, Solomon looks like a wild animal caught in a trap, trembling and hurt. A week of wishing to have him knocked down from his high horse, and now Ainosuke doesn't even enjoy the sight.
He crawls into the bed, using his phone for a light source, and shuts the door behind him. Without really bothering to say anything or announce himself, he approaches his cornered sorcerer and reaches for his face... to tilt it up so he can dab his injuries with a cool moist towel. It's surprisingly gentle. ]
[He at least can feel the creak of the bed, but the touch surprises him, and something soothing following it earns a tired laugh against the dark.]
What can I say? I was given an offer I couldn't refuse, hahah - [His laugh tightens into a wincing breath under the cloth, a buckling in on himself as he does so, like a domino effect. Everything hurts.]
I forget that I can't defend myself as I'm used to.
[ It's how Ainosuke's constantly felt since coming here. Nothing that could protect him this far, not power nor influence nor skill, could help him in this place.
Ainosuke tries to steady Solomon as he crumbles, his other hand now against his shoulder for stabilization. ]
It's not as though I'm trying to move... [It's muttered, quieter, his face tensing again along with the muscles in his arm at Ainosuke's touch, though it settles quickly.
He doesn't answer at first. But this is about the worst position he can be in for yet another argument, and he's already very injured. So, while he doesn't quite answer, he at least doesn't swerve as hard.]
[ A typical evasive little quip, because he too can't help himself. Being straight-forward is difficult, especially when he also doesn't quite know the answers. It's not as though they mean anything to each other. It's just been a long and strange week. ]
[ ... which is not the answer to the current question, but it is a forward answer to the previous one, which he also hadn't given so far. Ainosuke thinks that it counts for something. ]
A secret spoken to me here is a secret spoken into an open grave. So, who put you in this state?
[ In terms of how they acted at the trial, this is maybe not the most unexpected answer, but looking at the sheer brutality of the injuries inflicted on Solomon, it does take Ainosuke aback. The surprise does show on his face, even in the dim lighting of the phone screen. ]
... I didn't think he had that much power.
[ Just how weak are you, Solomon? ]
And satisfied is hardly the word. In fact, if I had to put terms to it, irritated would be more like it.
Mn. He caught me off guard, and I didn't put up much of a fight.
[Whether it was chosen, or whether he just can't? Who knows. He has the spark of a fight in him, if their one-night stand had shown anything. But he's a man bordering frail for how little strength he seems to show on the outside. No calluses, no muscle. If not for the seals plastered across his body, he would be extremely ordinary in every way from the outside.]
[The handoff is a gentle one, Solomon remaining quiet as he settles the drifting coolness overtop his neck and jaw.]
It will have to remain a mystery. Whether it was that he recognized yourself, Fandaniel, or something else... Perhaps something I'd said, or done, or insinuated... he wouldn't say.
[His chuckle is mirthless, tone growing melancholy in a way that feels hard to place.]
Even with his hands at my throat, poor Danya wouldn't tell me my sins. Just anger, so distant and offended.
[ Ainosuke is silent for a long moment, a measuring look on Solomon's face through the darkness of the box bed. Is he lying to protect some secret of Nishi's? It seems plausible, but it feels just as realistic that this went down exactly as described.
Frustrating. He's so frustrated by it all. ]
'Danya'.
[ He just repeats the nickname. He's heard it before, at trial, but it sits even more curiously now. ]
He asked for his name, when we first met by the graves. Insistent that he'd done some horrible wrong in a life he couldn't quite remember. Insistent that I was wise enough to tell him his truths, when he learned my name.
...
[He leans further into his pillow. Exhausted.]
I couldn't lie to him. But he let me provide a nickname, to at least fill the void.
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He crawls into the bed, using his phone for a light source, and shuts the door behind him. Without really bothering to say anything or announce himself, he approaches his cornered sorcerer and reaches for his face... to tilt it up so he can dab his injuries with a cool moist towel. It's surprisingly gentle. ]
You let someone do a nasty number on you.
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What can I say? I was given an offer I couldn't refuse, hahah - [His laugh tightens into a wincing breath under the cloth, a buckling in on himself as he does so, like a domino effect. Everything hurts.]
I forget that I can't defend myself as I'm used to.
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[ It's how Ainosuke's constantly felt since coming here. Nothing that could protect him this far, not power nor influence nor skill, could help him in this place.
Ainosuke tries to steady Solomon as he crumbles, his other hand now against his shoulder for stabilization. ]
Stop moving. Who did this?
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He doesn't answer at first. But this is about the worst position he can be in for yet another argument, and he's already very injured. So, while he doesn't quite answer, he at least doesn't swerve as hard.]
What would you do if I told you?
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[ A typical evasive little quip, because he too can't help himself. Being straight-forward is difficult, especially when he also doesn't quite know the answers. It's not as though they mean anything to each other. It's just been a long and strange week. ]
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No, I'd prefer not.
There's no need to put a target on your back for something that isn't your fault.
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[ Solomon is well and truly is such a frustrating person. Yet, seeing the bruises littering him like this, Ainosuke feels nothing but annoyance. ]
I won't set out to avenge you, so don't worry. But in a game like this, it's good to keep track of your allies and their enemies, no?
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[His tone is oddly transparent. He doesn't agree.]
What would you consider an enemy, Ainosuke?
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[ Everyone is an enemy. When he calls Solomon an ally, he is lying through his teeth based on vague sympathies. He can't exactly say that though. ]
Right now, I'd say that whoever beat you to a pulp is at least liable to be a prime suspect if you turn up dead next week.
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[It's more confident than it should be, given his state.]
But that wasn't exactly the point of my question.
And... I would like to hear an answer.
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[ ... which is not the answer to the current question, but it is a forward answer to the previous one, which he also hadn't given so far. Ainosuke thinks that it counts for something. ]
A secret spoken to me here is a secret spoken into an open grave. So, who put you in this state?
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[One hand curls to rub against his own throat. The bruising extends, under the high collar of his turtleneck, in deep purple marks.
It explains his hoarse voice, at least.]
Nishi. [Simple. Flat.]
Are you satisfied?
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... I didn't think he had that much power.
[ Just how weak are you, Solomon? ]
And satisfied is hardly the word. In fact, if I had to put terms to it, irritated would be more like it.
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[Whether it was chosen, or whether he just can't? Who knows. He has the spark of a fight in him, if their one-night stand had shown anything. But he's a man bordering frail for how little strength he seems to show on the outside. No calluses, no muscle. If not for the seals plastered across his body, he would be extremely ordinary in every way from the outside.]
So you could say it was deserved, if you like.
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[ Finally satisfied with his injury inspection, Ainosuke hands the towel to Solomon to keep soothing his jaw, and sits back on his half of the bed. ]
That bite from the other one sure made him furious.
[ It's not a question in form, but certainly in content. It was a bizarre reaction. ]
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It will have to remain a mystery. Whether it was that he recognized yourself, Fandaniel, or something else... Perhaps something I'd said, or done, or insinuated... he wouldn't say.
[His chuckle is mirthless, tone growing melancholy in a way that feels hard to place.]
Even with his hands at my throat, poor Danya wouldn't tell me my sins. Just anger, so distant and offended.
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Frustrating. He's so frustrated by it all. ]
'Danya'.
[ He just repeats the nickname. He's heard it before, at trial, but it sits even more curiously now. ]
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[Cruel, perhaps, given their surroundings.]
He asked for his name, when we first met by the graves. Insistent that he'd done some horrible wrong in a life he couldn't quite remember. Insistent that I was wise enough to tell him his truths, when he learned my name.
...
[He leans further into his pillow. Exhausted.]
I couldn't lie to him. But he let me provide a nickname, to at least fill the void.