route_1065 | APPARENTLY THIS GAME HAS A LOGS COMM?

Entry tags:

APPARENTLY THIS GAME HAS A LOGS COMM?

Who: Emmy Altava (

snapandscoot) and Solf J. Kimblee (

explosivecombat). SOMETHING DIFFERENT, I KNOW...............
Where: Lake of Rage
When: Forward dated about a week or two!
Summary: Emmy cashs in on that promise Kimblee made to take her away for a few days or two; also, a chat about his past which may or may not end rather badly.
Rating: PG at most, again.
Log:

It hadn't taken very long for Emmy to make it to Mahogany town, all things considered; the combination of Fly, her bike and Surf cut the travel time down quite significantly. Throughout the journey, the information Descole had given her played through her mind constantly. Could it really be true?

There was only one way she was going to find out properly; asking the man himself. But she dreaded the thought of that conversation. Her and Kimblee had had some difficult conversations in the past, but this...this would be the hardest.

She didn't want to risk hurting him. What if it was just a very cruel rumour? What if he was badly upset by it? She'd been a mess the last time they'd nearly said good-bye to each other for good, and that time he had apologized, brought her back....would he do the same this time, if things went badly?

But she pushed that to the back of her mind as she laughed and grabbed his arm, working to keep her balance on top of Nagara, his Steelix. He had kept his promise and was taking her to the Lake of Rage, north of Mahogany town. Her gym battle could wait; the gym wasn't going anywhere, after all.

"Ah, I can see it, Mr Kimblee! Look, it's beautiful!"

Her camera is out in seconds, snapping photographs of the lovely view Nagara is giving her of the lake. She takes some time to snap one of her charming companion, and the Steelix itself. It makes her think of the gift she's got in her bag for him, and she smiles to herself.

With any luck, he'll love it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh? Well, I'd love to meet her! I promise I'll put the camera away...for a little bit~"

The cafe is small, but it's very cozy. Emmy selects a table near the window, where they can look out over the lake. There aren't many other patrons at present, and she finds that the quiet enhances her mood all the more. This was certainly one of her better ideas! She occasionally sees Magik's tail flicking up out of the water, droplets catching the sun, along with a few...other tails of the Gyarados variety. Did that one just wrap around Magiks? Oh dear; with any luck, she won't end up with a batch of Magikarp eggs...

"While we're alone, I have a present for you, Mr Kimblee. It's nothing too outrageous, but I hope you'll like it."

Once they've seated themselves, Kimblee's gaze hasn't been focused out the window, but rather at the others currently inside the café. There aren't many of them, but Kimblee has always been interested in observing the behaviors of others. He recognizes most of them; locals, as opposed to people who had come in from outside Johto; he tends to find their reactions to things an odd combination of fascinating and mildly creepy. He doesn't recognize all of them, however, though their behavior implies that they're locals as well; he finds himself mildly disturbed at the idea that the local population actually might not be stable, and given how they act, that brings up a whole new crop of questions that he doesn't really want an answer for.

Emmy's words pull him out of his thoughts, however; he finds that he doesn't really know what to do with those, either, though he's decidedly less disturbed and more just...somewhat surprised.

"Oh? You didn't have to bring me anything, Miss Altava."

"I know, but I wanted to."

She reaches into her bag, then, pulling out a simple white book. It's not very thick, but the pages seem to be made of an odd material, and when she gently flicks it open it becomes rather obvious why.

It's a photo album.

"I got a bunch of my photos developed recently, and ended up with a lot of doubles, so I...well, I thought you might like to have some of them. It documents almost every moment we've spent together since I met you; I tend to get a bit snap-happy!"

And she's not lying; as Emmy flicks through the album, the photos almost tell a story. They're arranged chronologically, some of them funny, some beautiful, some silly. Emmy obviously took great pains in ensuring there was a decent variety scattered throughout the book.

"See here? That was when we had tea after our first battle; that cafe had such beautiful crockery! I think...yes, that's your hand holding the pot, I don't have a white jacket! And if you flick a few pages along..."

And she does, arriving on a page featuring them in some rather fantastic formal outfits. The Masquerade ball.

"Remember how I tried to get Machi to take the photo to start with, and she almost broke my camera? Thankfully Abbie managed it, I thought we'd never get the photo!"

There's a small smile on her face as she lovingly goes through the photos; Emmy has a great fondness for her hobby. And the subject matter.

"I do hope you don't find this odd or creepy or anything...I just thought you might like it. You know, a bit of a documentation of some of your time in Johto!"

And for a long moment, Kimblee simply stares, eyes wide as he focuses on the pages; the photography really is incredibly well-done. He'd seen several of Emmy's pictures from London, but none of the more recent things she'd photographed; he recalls her taking several of them, but not all - there are a few that she must have taken without his knowledge, as he isn't looking at the camera at all.

Kimblee usually hates how he photographs. It hadn't been an issue until he had arrived in Johto, what with the general absence of cameras in Amestris, but since then he had come to not care for them very much; he notices his flaws, first and foremost - and despite all his vanity, he is incredibly aware of his flaws - but at the same time, that usually isn't what bothers him. There's something about him in pictures that isn't...quite like it is with most other people; a strange coldness in his eyes, paired with an oddness to his expressions that he can't exactly pinpoint. It's not like it is in the mirror; that's never looked strange to him at all. But there's a sort of distance when it comes to photographs; it's like seeing oneself through the view of another person entirely, and Kimblee has spent so long looking at other people for signs of strangeness, of something unnatural that indicates danger - and perhaps an ally if the circumstances are right - that he can't help but apply the same sort of scrutinizing to himself when confronted with photographs.

What he usually sees there doesn't bother him at all; if anything, it's to be expected. But it's things like this that make him wonder how Emmy doesn't notice - or if she notices, why she doesn't seem to mind. Admittedly, these are some very well-done images; they're far more natural-looking than most that have been taken of him in the past, and Kimblee is surprised by how many are actually very...normal-looking, for lack of a better term. But still, there are a few that make him question how Emmy doesn't know.

He'll never ask her about it; it's not a question he really wants answered. He simply watches her flick through the album in silence; if he's going to be perfectly honest, he isn't sure what to do with it. It takes him a while to realize that it isn't the number of photos that's striking him so strangely, nor is it even really the subject matter, or the fact that he actually can pass for a normal person in most of them. It's something about the way they're organized, and the way she speaks about them; he answers her statements about the pictures with nodding, rather than words, while he tries to work out exactly what it is that's striking him oddly. And he realizes, eventually, that it has to do with the fondness in her tone, and the painstakingly chronological order - she hadn't been inaccurate in saying it was a documentation of the time they'd spent together.

Most people Kimblee came across in Amestris actively wanted to forget the time they'd spent around him, praying he would forget their faces; Emmy wanted to remember it. Wanted him to remember her.

And with that came a second realization: that for all the time he spent watching others, analyzing their every move and working out what constituted normal social behavior and what did not...right now, he had no idea what the appropriate response should be.

To say that Kimblee felt absolutely nothing was a lie, though his emotions were often incredibly muted; of course, remorse and guilt never happened for him, and even fear was a sort of dull wariness that ran a range from "somewhat nervous" to "shutting down and trying to leave the vicinity of the fear stimuli" rather than open terror. Most of the time he was rather numb, really; almost dead inside. However, he was capable of anger, as Miss Altava had seen on their last meeting, though it was often incredibly short-lived; actual happiness was rare, and more short-lived than the anger. And then, for some, there was fondness - the actual manifestation of it in his mind was incredibly fleeting, though once he was fond of someone, he tended to seek out their company much more than most.

This - whatever this was - wasn't any of that; there was fondness, yes, but it ran deeper than that. It was something he hadn't felt properly since Ishval; not the sheer rush and excitement of battle, but something deeper, far more subtle. The last time he'd felt it had been the first time he'd used the Philosopher's Stone - a sort of dark fire threading through his system, warm and sharp and full of anticipation and promise and at the same time there was a sort of fear in it, the knowledge that if this sort of sensation were pursued and brought to its fullest potential, it would change everything.

For the briefest of moments, he loves her.

But then the moment passes, and the sensation leaves him, and he still isn't sure what to do with himself.

"I don't find it creepy at all, Miss Altava," and the words are coming out far easier than he'd thought they would - far easier than they should, it's almost as though he can hear someone else saying them. "I'm deeply flattered, actually."

And he is.

If nothing else, he is.

"-and this one, oh gosh, do you remember? Isaac found all those lovely berries and I tried to cook them and they just ended up making...."

Emmy is oblivious to Kimblee's true nature. All she sees is the persona he puts on; that gentlemanly air that she so loves. But as she takes him through the album, she can see there's something odd going on with him as she flicks through the pictures. Almost like he's off in a different world, staring blankly.

"...are you alright, Mr Kimblee? I mean, I'm glad you're flattered, you just...looked a little lost there. Was it the memory of those berries? I can't blame you, I shudder just talking about it!"

He seems to come back around when she addresses him directly like that, the usual calm smiling crossing his features again.

"Ah, those were rather atrocious, weren't they?"

He pauses for a moment, glancing back down to the page before returning his attention to Emmy. "This is lovely, you know, and genuinely the nicest thing anyone's done for me. I really do appreciate it."

"...really? It's just a book full of silly pictures, Mr Kimblee, you don't have to say something like that...."

...and there's another blush spreading across her face, but she's beaming happily. She...really is so very glad he likes it; she put it together with a lot of care.

"I am really glad you like it, however! Maybe I'll give you a second volume as we continue our adventures; what do you think?"

And of course she's completely oblivious - as she should be - and now she's back to being so quaint he's gonna die.

It's a nice shift from all the confusion, really.

"I don't say things like that if I don't mean them, you know.

And as for a second volume...well. I'd like that, Miss Altava."

"Then you shall get it! Of course, that means you have to take me on more adventures~! Although I won't allow you to pay for any others; I do make quite a nice bit of money from defeating all those gyms, you know!"

Emmy happily sets about preparing their tea as it arrives, her smile hiding the fact that she's a mess inside. She's....she's so delighted at the moment, she hasn't been this happy in weeks...

...how is she supposed to bring up what Descole told her now?

As if sensing her dilemma, with a flash, there is suddenly-

"AJ!"

-a baby Abra hanging off the arm pouring the tea.

"What have I told you about Teleporting without my permission?"

With a flick, she sends the baby flying through the air. It's on purpose, however, as she's well aware that the mother is there waiting to catch her, the pair starting to giggle as Emmy rolls her eyes, continuing with her teamaking.

"Honestly! She's almost as bad as her mother, Mr Kimblee."

....is it obvious she's only pretending to be angry? Hopefully it isn't.

........it totally is, isn't it.

It totally is.

As it stands, Kimblee spends a good long moment blankstaring like a boss at the baby Abra from right the hell out of nowhere; the expression shifts from "utterly bewildered" into "incredibly amused" rather quickly.

"'AJ', Miss Altava...?"

Do tell him that doesn't stand for what he thinks it stands for. Because oh, god, he thinks he knows what it stands for.

"Abbie Junior, of course! That's what she is, after all!"

The pair of Psychic Pokemon promptly teleport outside, Abbie Senior promptly throwing Abbie Junior through the air, only to teleport over and catch her in a fit of giggles. After a few repeats (coupled with their facepalming trainer watching through the window), Emmy's Nidoqueen stomps over and rages at the Alakazam, who continues to look innocently amused.

'By the way, I heard on the grapevine that you're a mass murderer! Isn't that crazy?'

"I swear, Abbie acts like her older sister more than her mother. That's Nida's job."

Shaking her head, Emmy lets out a mock sigh, trying her hardest not to smile. She fails.

"It's certainly an experience, raising these things."

'Seven years in solitary confinement, Mr Kimblee? That's certainly something!'

Her hand begins to shake, the tea in her cup swishing slightly against the sides.

'The highest kill count in the war...you're one hell of an achiever!'

Oh, god, why can't she stop thinking about it? Why?

Kimblee's gaze shifts outside properly for the first time since they've arrived at the café; judging from the vague smirking crossing his features, he's rather amused.

"I'd imagine so - "

He doesn't finish his thought, however, his attention given to the sudden shaking Emmy's doing across the table.

"Miss Altava...?"

Emmy slowly places the teacup down, glad that the cafe appears to have emptied for the time being. It won't make what she has to say easier, but it does...make it a bit more tolerable.

"....Mr Kimblee."

As Nida bundles up AJ and takes her away, Abbie glances over at the window, before disappearing into the air. It's time.

"I...I want to apologize in advance, before I say this, but I...I have to talk to you about it. It's digging away at me."

And she was having such an incredible time, too. Her heart sinks.

"Recently I was informed by...someone I know, that....."

...how in the hell does she say this? That you're a mass murderer? An ex-con?

"...they gave me some information about you that was given to them by someone in the Amestrian military. About....your past, Mr Kimblee."

"Oh?"

Kimblee's demeanor doesn't change entirely, but he is much more guarded - something reflected in his positioning as he settles back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, I don't see why we can't discuss it. What sort of information, if I may?"

He almost doesn't have to ask; that pause before she continued on told him just about everything that he needed to know.

She notices the change in his demeanour immediately, and it depresses her. She can't exactly blame him, however, and hates herself for springing this on him when they were having such a lovely time. But if she holds it in any longer she'll end up blurting it out at some hideously inappropriate moment, and she'd much prefer to spare him that.

"...about a war that you took part in; my friend called it more of a genocide. I....."

Taking a deep breath, Emmy straightens her posture and folds her hands on the table. That's enough stuttering. Just spit it out, woman. Be a damn lady.

"The exact information was that you had a killcount of many thousands, and spent seven years in solitary confinement for the murders of five of your superior offices."

Closing her eyes, she sighs softly, before reopening them and gazing at him levelly.

"I want you to know that the reason I'm telling you about it is that I believe you have the right to know that someone you know is spreading this information...and I wanted to check with you that it's correct. I didn't want to assume anything."

Finished for now, Emmy grows quiet, her calm facade slipping slightly as a look of sadness crosses her face.

Such a lovely time.

Kimblee takes in all of that in silence; he leans forward again, bracing his arms against the table. There's nothing casual about the shift; his expression has gone rather cold. It isn't anger, and he clearly isn't upset - there's simply nothing.

"I won't lie to you, Miss Altava; what you've heard is true. I imagine you have questions. You're more than welcome to ask."

Emmy looks stunned for a moment, blinking stupidly.

"O-Oh, I....I see."

...so Descole's informant was telling the truth. She almost doesn't know how to react. How on earth is one supposed to react in this situation? A reassuring pat on the back? Recoiling in disgust? Throwing the table out the window?

"Well, I...I don't know what to ask, exactly."

Oh she has questions; they're flying around in her mind, but she can't bring herself to voice them as of yet.

"It's....quite a revelation."

"...let me explain something about how our country goes to war, Miss Altava, as I've no doubt that you're wondering how a kill count that high is even possible, much less something that any single human being can carry out and still retain any claim to their humanity."

His voice is even, calm; there's still that cold, dark void behind his gaze.

"The war started as an attempt to suppress a riot in that particular region; in the fray, an Amestrian soldier accidentally shot an Ishvalan child. The child died; the rioting escalated. The war continued for several years; neither side was willing to back down. It became a case of who was going to be proven right, and who was going to be dead. As the people of Ishval had been receiving illegal weapons from the neighboring country of Aerugo - one with a history of hostility toward Amestris, wanting to see us destroyed from the inside - the war looked as though it could sustain itself indefinitely.

As such, a special division of the military were called in to the front lines. State Alchemists."

He pauses for a moment, taking a sip of that tea in front of him; his tone has remained perfectly even the entire time.

"Amestrian alchemy consists of far more than turning lead into gold - that sort of thing is actually illegal, given that it's good for nothing but upsetting the economy. Rather, it's the general power to transmute substances into one thing or another, as long as it adheres to the general principle of Equivalent Exchange. You cannot create from nothing, nor can you render into nothing - for something to be gained, something else must be lost, and vice-versa. It's a very simple concept. The consequences for breaking it are horrible, as a toll is often exacted against the alchemist in question. But that's not the point right now.

The point is that some of this alchemy can be weaponized. Human beings capable of being used as literal flamethrowers, or capable of shifting the very surface of the ground itself. These are the people who bear the title of 'State Alchemist.'

Obviously, I was one of them at the time. The State Alchemists ensured that a war that had carried on for several years came to a close in a matter of months.

My kill count is nothing that was carried out with a gun, or any sort of traditional weapon. Due to the nature of what I can do, it was highly destructive from the start. Most of my kills were done at a great distance; those that were close-up have remained with me. I've never forgotten their faces; it would be highly disrespectful to do otherwise."

"...alchemy?"

This has gone from terrifying into a whole new level of pure weird; Kimblee is an Alchemist?

She pauses for a moment to ponder that, thinking hard. That sort of thing...well, it sounds like magic. But Kimblee doesn't fit her idea of a bearded, robe-wearing wizard.

....wait a minute....

"...for your....your alchemy, do you...use circles?"

He seems to relax a bit at that question, actually; it's...surprisingly normal, given the rest of the conversation that's happening.

"Transmutation circles, yes; they're essential to performing alchemy."

It's about then that he realizes why she's asking, his gaze flicks down to his gloves. "Yes, you've already seen mine once."

"Yes, that's why I was asking. I mean, I had seen them before, I just..well at the time it wasn't-

....right, what I'm really asking is if I could possibly see them again, Mr Kimblee!"

Going into the mechanics of his alchemy seems like the wisest thing to do while her mind tries to wrap itself around the thought of him being....well, everything he's just admitted to being. She would be lying if she said she didn't find the thought fascinating, after all.

"I suppose there's no harm in it."

At least her delivery honestly seems to amuse him, though it doesn't quite carry through to his actions. He hesitates a bit before slipping his gloves off - first the right, the left following shortly after; he finds himself checking through habit to see whether she has anything sharp in her hands before extending his toward her.

It doesn't even matter anymore; it hasn't mattered for seven and a half months. And yet he still finds himself checking.

His right hand seems to have taken a fair amount of damage - of course there are the newer, lighter marks that imply that he's been burned fairly recently, but there's also a line of old scarring raking across his palm that appears to have been there for well over a year now. But the circle is still connected and visible, dark against his skin, while his left hand doesn't appear to have taken any damage at all - he could still use them if Johto allowed.

The opposing triangular marks inscribed inside of them, the symbols for the sun and the moon, the lettering around the edges...it's been a while since he's shown them to anyone. They're nothing but identifying marks here; that thought itself is insulting.

As her eyes trail over the symbols, Emmy finds herself fascinated and forced to restrain the urge to reach for her camera. She appreciates the fact that Kimblee is showing her these marks; she doesn't need him getting upset at any inappropriate behaviour.

...despite these thoughts, she can't resist gently trailing a finger along the symbol on his left hand, since it doesn't appear to be injured. The designs are simple yet intricate, the lettering tiny but perfect, the symbols crisp and clean.

One thing is for sure; these circles are works of art.

"....they're beautiful, Mr Kimblee."

She blinks softly, after she says that...beautiful. But they're what powered his alchemy, which was how he murdered all those people...they're his weapons. It's getting to be too much to take in all at once.

"...I take it they don't work here, then."

Kimblee doesn't flinch when she reaches out to touch the array; he keeps an eye on what she's doing, of course, but he isn't any more wary than he normally is. Her touch is soft, and her words seem to please him a good amount.

"They don't, no. It troubled me a good amount at first - alchemy has been my primary defense for quite some time, to say nothing of the fact that things like that are closely tied to your sense of self; it's a rather deeply-woven part of an alchemist's life, and it's incredibly difficult to even consider giving it up voluntarily, much less having it taken from you.

It doesn't bother me quite as much now, however; adapt and overcome."

"....I see."

Finishing her examination of the circle, Emmy leans back up, looking at him curiously.

"You spoke about the different sorts of ways alchemy manifests itself according to the Alchemist using it....what does yours do? Do you channel energy through the circles, or place something on them, or...maybe..."

She slips her hands underneath his, gently tilting them inwards slightly so she can examine the arrays closer, and potential ways they might match.

"....clap your hands together? To make the circles meet?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject