♚ la justice;

A minor? What does that have to with it? He must have distressed the boy somehow, to receive such a disconcerting reply to such a simple question. 

Daud squints at Akechi. “For law enforcement, you’re awfully sympathetic to ‘the ones bloodying their hands,’ or however you called us. I’m used to the guard being after those who do the wetwork. Nobles are untouchable– that’s partly why my services are so in demand.”

Were. Were in demand, before Corvo went and put him out of business for good. The fact of the matter is, most of Dunwall is plagued by screams and nightmares. At the height of the Whalers, Daud considered themselves to be leveling the playing field a bit. 

The Palilicium looms into view, and Daud wraps the rest of the chocolate and tucks it in the bag.

“I’m nobody’s puppet,” he adds. It sounds defensive, even to him.

“Whatever gets the job done, right?”

There is sarcasm spread all over his tone. It reminded him of something else. Of how Shido would gleefully use a fifteen old boy to do his bidding. The perfect doll that would dance to his tune, a kid that would bring him the heads of their enemies if it meant recognition. If it meant Akechi could get close to him and hopefully choke his father using the same strings that bound him down to such a man. 

“We are not in Japan, and I said I have no reason to act against you. Right now, we are on the same side. Learning more about each other is a valuable thing.” 

He presses the elevator button, and the ride upstairs is quiet. Akechi lets Daud think about what he said, and comes up with a few conclusions himself. Once they are at their assigned floor and he puts the groceries away, the detective turns once more to Daud. The gentle smile bubbling up once more.

“You are yourself, but I do not think I should be the one to tell you this. You seem aware enough of your own self to refuse being played by anyone else, no matter what happened to you in your place.”

There is another moment of silence as Akechi sorts all their purchases out, leaving a stack of bags so Daud can bring these back to his room without much trouble. The rest is stashed away at the shared kitchen. 

I simply feel like it. Daud’s not accustomed to kindness without motive. He hands Akechi one bag and holds onto the other for himself. 

“Lead the way.” The two of them set out toward the Palilicium, walking shoulder to shoulder. Daud reaches into the bag and finds a chocolate folded into a shiny paper.

“I don’t drink often. Dulls the senses. Dangerous for someone in my profession.” He unwraps it and takes a bite, chewing slowly, letting it melt on his tongue. “This kind of thing is a nice luxury, though.”

“Do you drink?” He fishes out another candy and tosses it to Akechi. “Here, take one.”

It is true, however. He desires cooperation, of course. But this was done without expecting much in return. It was different than his work relationship with Sae Nijima, where Akechi manipulated her to become the perfect sacrificial pawn. This time he does it out of a sense of... kinship? Nothing he does in the Ark directly affect his plans. So forming bonds that can help him out through his stay is something that is born out of necessity. 

With Daud it is perhaps both. Necessity and desire for any kind of meaningful connection. The question almost catches him off-guard, bringing Akechi abruptly back to Earth as he catches the other chocolate bar mid-air.

“I am a minor, actually. Not that it matters, as people will drink whenever they feel like it. Rules that are not enforced thoroughly will become irrelevant, but... that is not what you wanted to hear, was it?” 

A terrible habit that he refuses to break out of.

“I believe people who drink alcohol are more likely to be the ones paying for the assassination, not the ones doing the job. They can just sit back and sip their whiskey or whatever comfortably. They are not the ones bloodying their hands.

Interesting, that he doesn’t try to crush her hand in an iron grip–she’d forgotten there were people who wouldn’t, other than herself. Physical strength is the hallmark that most she meets live their lives by, but then again, considering the look of him, it should come as no surprise. It’s not as though his grip is weak, after all: simply contained, no air of posturing or hostility anywhere to be found in it. 

To someone like Meagan, that kind of studied handshake speaks volumes.

She settles herself back down into her previous chair easily, elbows braced on her thighs and body tilted towards Goro. Leaning forward pulls her shirt against the stout chairleg still yet hidden under the back of her coat, and it’s not exactly the word’s most comfortable position, but it’s the one that communicates her intent best, and so it’s the one she sticks to.

“Pleasure’s mine, especially since you’ve let me waylay you like this.” she says. For a moment, she’s silent. The sound of the fire crackles and swells, and she makes several decisions in very quick succession.

She’s always been impulsive, after all.

“It’s certainly closest to where I called home. Nowhere near dingy enough,” she says, eyeing the decor and the paintings with an invitation to humor in her eyes, “but the atmosphere is similar.” Then, after a millisecond’s pause: “The locals seem comfortable.” In the statement is a question: are they? 

What Goro chooses to answer will tell her a great deal, and as an opener it’s one with relatively little risk, allowing her to flash him a glimpse of her intentions and reasons for interest without making her spell them out. Which is useful, mostly because she’s still trying to work out how to word half her questions her own damn self.

Maybe it’s rude to test someone you flagged down yourself, but if she’s got even a quarter of his measure right, so long as she doesn’t step on a landmine, he might even find it funny.

She is safe mostly if not all because he is doing the same. It is only logical that you would tread lightly in unknown territory. He studies her attire, her reactions, her posture. There is also little point in hiding that it is so, though it can pass as mere curiosity. 

“I see. It is difficult to balance the level of technology we have here with the architecture of the city. It does not look natural no matter how much you try. It makes me think that there was on purpose. No intent to hide the oddities of this place at all.”

They are both avoiding that, actually. Stepping on a landmine. Actually, it is closer to walking through a frozen lake hoping desperately that it doesn’t crack under your weight and the cold water swallows you whole and freezes your entire body. He lifts one hand slightly, resting his chin there. 

What exactly could he reply to that?

“If you want to know about the denizens of this place, the rats here can range between helpful and ‘things you would like to avoid’. They have a weird taste for pulling pranks on people that are unaware. This place is also littered with traps, but they are mostly both harmless if you are paying attention. 

If their so-called ‘ruler’ is involved in this whole scheme, it is not something that I have been able to find out yet. Considering the all kinds of shady deals that occur here and there, it is very likely that they make themselves unknown for a reason.”

 There is a small pause. Once more, he studies her reactions. Akechi starts by unveiling the most uninteresting facts first, to see what exactly catches Meagan’s attention. 

He doesn’t wait much longer before he drops the actual metaphorical bomb on her.

“But these things only make sense when you interact with them yourself. As for the actual people that live here... it is difficult to explain. There are some who would rather stay at this place. And I am aware you know I do not mean the Palilicium. Whatever happened at their worlds, they much rather prefer to be kept captives in a strange paradise by even stranger figures than go back. 

Then there are others amassing as much intelligence as they can out of everything to claw their way out. Either because they have to, or because they refuse to bow down to someone else. Out of desire for freedom or simply because they will not accept being caged in such a place.

Which one are you, miss Meagan? Someone who wants to leave their past behind, or do you have an objective you need to attend to? Of course you do not need to answer me. You can also not answer truthfully, if you so desire.

But it would be good to know what your true intentions are. You can find allies at the most unexpected of places.”

Akechi’s smile is almost sickeningly sweet. It is almost as if he knows the answer. He doesn’t, of course. But half of the fun is pretending he does. He’s very aware of how the brain of a person like this ticks, and what actually makes them side with or against you. Of course he would, being way too similar in nature.

“As I see, you can do whatever you desire. As long as you are not breaking the rules of this place, there is no limit. But you are someone new here, and you know that you can only go so far on your own.

She rises as he approaches–she initiated the conversation, she’s not going to leave him the only one standing. “Meagan Foster.” She says, offering a hand to shake. It’s perhaps more courteous than her norm, but no moreso than she’s being met with.

What she’s being met with is confirming her suspicions: no one puts that level of charm in their tone unintentionally, not in her experience.

(You might make the argument that she’s simply known the wrong people, but you’d have to talk quick to convince her of that.)

“I’m just trying to acquaint myself with the area. It’s my second day, so I’ve been making the rounds of the residential buildings. I was wondering: you seem nearly comfortable here, as opposed to most people I’ve run into. Have you been here long? Would you mind answering a few questions about the natives?”

After all. 

There’s no harm in asking. Her first career hadn’t been the sort that led to conversing widely with people, but her second one had seen her rubbing elbows with people in all stations of life. She ought to be able to strike up some kind of conversational accord.

It is almost refreshing to realize that she is examining him as much as he is doing the same to her. This does not make the easy smile disappear from his face, shaking her hand with measured strength. Akechi notices her grasp is firm, but also contained. That Meagan’s calloused hand tells him more than it should at a glance. He again keeps the information to himself. 

If there are theories forming, it is too early to say anything. She is probably making a plethora of them right now anyways.

“It is nice to meet you, Meagan. I am Goro Akechi.”

Considering how she made herself terribly comfortable at a new place as quickly as she could, he could infer that the Sea of Crises was a place where this stranger felt most at her element. Not too different from himself. He gestures back to where she was seated, indicating that it would be less conspicuous if they passed this as only casual conversation. Akechi does not voice it, and it is a test. If she realizes this, then she is just as wary as being overheard as he is. He picks the comfortable couch next to the armchair, entwining his fingers and just resting his hands on his legs.

“That is no problem. Crises is no different from a big city, even if a lot of its features are exaggerated. This building is a good example of absurdity, but I think it fits whatever idea our captors might’ve had quite well. 

If you have any specific questions, I would be more than happy to answer them.”

@iustise

Meagan much prefers the sea of Crises to her own–it had been her favourite of the three when she made her loop through them, and she’s found herself returning to it, just to soak up the smell of air heavy with latent hostility. 

She’s never managed to shake her love of that danger, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many miles she put between herself and Dunwall. It’s more honest, she thinks; she may not be confined to a cell, but she is by no means anything but a prisoner here. It seems everyone is, and she’d rather not be in a gilded cage if she could have her way.

Which is why she’s in the Palilicium’s lobby, loitering. Tucked neatly into an armchair in front of the fire, she’s people watching: trying to get a grip on the kinds of people she can expect to be surrounded by.

Akechi carries an aura with him, when he enters the building. A familiar one, sincerity tinged with whale oil, just as slick and just as volatile.

It’s instinct, just instinct, and maybe she’s wrong about him, but she’s prepared to be. She’s still going to flag him down.

“Over here,” she says, like they’ve known each other a million years, voice pitched clear to carry. “Are you a resident here?”

There is no briefcase with him this time. Akechi had learned that you could hunt wildlife with no consequences, and he needed a place to test something out. Ever since receiving Loki back, something did not feel right. He was there, but there was also something missing. 

It was different than Robin Hood, where he knew that his Persona had been significantly downgraded. Testing exactly how was he affected was worth getting his shoes stained with mud. After a few hours, the problem was swiftly found: the absence (or rather, his lack of means to access it) of the Metaverse meant that certain parts of his powers would not be accessible. 

On one side, good. Bringing attention to exactly similar effects when Akira was already suspicious of something new would only invite disaster. But speaking on a more practical level, then it meant that his most useful weapon was taken away. The train ride back home from Tranquility to the Mare Crisium took him long enough to organize and file everything for later. It was definitely not something Akechi wanted on paper. Everything else worked just fine. He would just have to be careful to not show more than he wanted to. 

Right now he just wanted to clean his shoes and find something interesting to eat. Maybe he would just drag Daud out of his room and gently push him to accompany Akechi to one of the restaurants he was cataloging. 

The idea is swiftly cut short by the voice calling out to him. He stops midway through pressing the elevator button, and turns around to approach Meagan. Akechi keeps his tone polite, perhaps way too charmingly so. 

“Yes, I do. Fourth floor.”

The extra information does not invite danger. After all, it was available to everyone. He loses nothing by keeping it from her. Meagan could find this out at any time she wants as soon as Akechi gives her his name. Even if he’s rapidly putting his guard up he keeps his casual tone of voice, carrying the conversation as if nothing of note was happening.

@iustise

If the Sea of Crises is a horror RPG, Min decides, then the Palilicium is the spooky scary mansion level. It’s definitely got the faux-Gothic/English nobleman’s estate vibe down so pat it’s almost satirical, all red patterned wallpaper and tiger-headed rugs and bulbous sconce lights that flicker like wall-mounted torches. Overpainted oil portraits leer from every wall, and every door looks like it could lead to a torture dungeon. Min even hears screaming as she passes the second floor library.

Ominous. She creeps past without checking inside.

The third floor is pretty much empty, but on the fourth Min tiptoes into the music room and finds a man - a boy really, can’t be much older than eighteen - seated at a baby grand. He isn’t playing, just… sitting. One leather-gloved hand is tapping at his holophone. Shaggy brown hair cascades to his shoulders, and beside him on the piano’s seat is a silver briefcase, the kind that would hold explosives or a weapons upgrade in a real RPG.

“Hey,” Min calls to him. “Do you know anything about the screaming downstairs? Is that normal around here?”

By this point he is way too accustomed to it, actually. He would rather stay here than at Tranquility or Nectar, for starters. It is not how ‘shady’ this faux city looks like, but it is easier to pretend if everyone else around him does the same. It makes it feel more natural, it doesn’t let the treacherous peaceful atmosphere of the Ark to get to him. 

Some people were too eager to just shed their skin and start anew. Goro Akechi couldn’t do that so easily. None of his roommates were musically inclined, so he found the music room the perfect place to study his notes about this place. Turning wireless communication off was probably not enough to keep whatever information he collected to leak to their captors, but it brought him peace of mind. Somehow. 

The idea of being constantly watched was unnerving. And he turns around when he feels a pair of eyes on him, a woman too quick to address the elephant in the room. Building, in this case. He recognizes the man screaming. 

“Ah.” Honestly, he wouldn’t run downstairs to save someone he barely met. Not when he needed to save his own skin, and much less when death was pretty much inconsequential here. But he would not risk it just to find out that you were not going to be magically resurrected this time.

“Kind of? There are different types of ‘people screaming’ around here. It is far from what you’d call a peaceful place, and sometimes it is best to just not know what is going on.”

As much as he’d like to, Akechi would pick his fights carefully. He always did.

“Sorry, that probably sounded rude. I believe that the longer we stay here, the probability of less than savory types surfacing around a place that invites conflict rises considerably.

“Just a joke,” he says, turning and strolling down the aisle between the shelves. “Moon points are the ones that let us buy weapons, right? I’d rather find some way to steal them. Or better yet, get the confiscated ones back.”

He finishes the ice cream a little too fast, and it makes his head hurt. Hopefully Akechi doesn’t notice him pulling a face.

“I look forward to meeting this other friend of yours.” Daud picks up the chips, examining the list of ingredients. Well over half sound unfamiliar. “I imagine detective work isn’t too different from planning an assassination. Two sides of the same coin, if you think about it.”

He places the chips and several packages of candy on the counter.

“Thanks, Akechi. I’m in your debt.”

“You are correct. After all, it is necessary that you get the right insight into a situation to solve it adequately. It requires you to think as an assassin, a thief or simply someone else up to no good. 

Otherwise, how will you figure out someone else’s next move? Collecting information only gets you so far. What really matters is how you apply your knowledge... or imagination.”

He leaves it up in the air which one it really is. No comment is made about the natural reaction to eating ice cream too quickly. Akechi also does not make it clear if he did not see it or if he chose to politely ignore it. Handing the holophone over so he could complete the purchase took only a couple of seconds, and everything was carefully stuffed in a bag.  

“If that is alright, I would still like to continue exploring. Might we take a short detour and put these things back before we go?

You owe me nothing, Daud. I am not doing this out of a weird sense of obligation. I simply feel like it. If you are to trust me, then it is only logical that I do the same.”

He pockets his phone again, gesturing that he can carry the bags home as they leave the shop. There is a comment begging to be let out, however.

[msg] Got it [msg] See you soon

Of course Akechi hadn’t told the team that he has a second Persona. Akira wouldn’t have revealed it either, in his position, even if he wasn’t planning to stab the Thieves in their collective back. It’s not betrayal that he feels right now, he thinks. So what is it?

As Akira sits on the train, watching the stars drift past, he considers it. They consider it. Having things kept from you isn’t supposed to make you feel like this. The rest of the team wouldn’t feel like this. Surprise would be appropriate – and Akira and Joker feel some of that, yeah, although not as much as someone else might – but not… whatever this mix of emotions is. Interest in how the rest of Akechi had manifested itself, surprise at meeting another wild card, a jolt of excitement at the potential danger. Joker’s joy at something new happening, at seeing another face of someone they’re interested in. Arsène’s itch to meet Loki in the Metaverse, where they belong.

They steady out quickly, as they always do. Joker is still bubbling to the surface, but Akira maintains his composure, nods politely to the few rats who acknowledge him, and makes his way to the Palilicium without incident. 

Akira reaches Akechi’s room on autopilot. He pauses in the doorway, tilting his head a little as he looks at Akechi, then steps inside and closes it behind him. Akechi won’t tell him the truth no matter how he approaches this, he knows. So there’s no reason to be aggressive about it. He’ll get as much information as he can and sort the truth from the lies as he goes.

“Hey,” he says, calmly. “That was a pretty big surprise.”

He was correct in assuming Akechi would not tell him the truth. Well, he would eventually. Under different circumstances. Perhaps when Akira was about to die. Even after everything, he owes the other student an explanation. No matter how thinly veiled in lies it was.

“I know.”

Right now, he’d rather focus on how to get out of this situation. While Akira was on his way Akechi concocted at least a dozen excuses and trimmed them. Some were just ridiculous, and others not believable enough. This time there is no coffee to ease the conversation between the two of them, just the cold click of the door locking. He moves his head just slightly, to make sure they were the only ones in the room.  

“I was planning on telling you eventually. That I am also a Wild Card. I just...”

The fact that he hesitates is also planned. His worried expression is meticulously crafted, experienced in twisting his emotions and how he carried himself. Akechi looks at the floor for a few minutes, before looking up to the leader of the Phantom Thieves again. 

“... preferred to not let people know. The others, I mean. But things happened too fast, and I found myself with no opportunity to reveal such a big thing to you only. I am sorry for that.”

If he is apologetic, then Akira has no reason to keep that quiet accusatory stare. Even if he tries to hide it, Akechi knows it well enough to pick it off. Even when his friend’s expression would be somewhat nearing blank otherwise. 

“Surely you must know how it feels to want to keep a part of yourself secret and off-limits to others, Kurusu-kun. After all, you prefer not to show every single side of yourself to your friends.

Shutting himself inside his room was easy, but processing everything that happened when his brain was still racing and his body desperately wanted to rebel against it was something else. 

At least two weeks passed quietly. Part of him insisted that this was fine, seeking to reconcile with someone who upset you so was not necessary. But still. 

He couldn’t simply forget. Even if she did not mean to cause this, Heysel said the truth. That he might enjoy things at this place, no matter how fleeting they were. It takes more effort than he wants to acknowledge to hold his holophone and not simply let the matter drop and avoid her for the rest of his stay. 

Not cowardice, but self-preservation. He tabs over to his contacts, and spends a few minutes mulling over wording. What could he say. He also wonders if it is far too early in the morning to just go ahead and text people. While biting his lips, he curses quietly under his breath and just decides to go for it.

TO: Yellowfinger Heysel

FROM: Akechi Goro

[msg] Good morning, miss Heysel. I hope you have been doing well.

[msg] I would like to apologize for taking so long to reach out to you. Things have been quite busy, and I simply could not find the time to do so. But there is something else I want to talk about. 

There is a slight pause between the next few messages, again debating if he should say something or not. Honestly, why should he apologize for being hurt? If there is something he has learned, it was that people never apologized when they were in the wrong. They let the other party do it first. Unsurprisingly, it happened again. And less shocking was that he knew exactly what to say. 

[msg] About our last meeting. I reacted badly, and I hope it is not too late to make amends. I am used to the unusual becoming the norm, but the harsh reality of this place caught up to me in probably what would seem the worst timing ever in history.

[msg] I am truly sorry.

He taps he back of his phone for a few seconds, shifting around enough to just decide to sit before sending his final message. If possible, he’d ask her to just forget everything she witnessed. Forget about his real self. It was much easier to pretend. 

But this time he follows her advice, in a sense. He just hits the ‘send’ button on his final message and hopes for the best.

Heysel remains silent for a few moments, studying him after his outburst. He has buried more than she initially expected, and his wish to break free of societal dynamics and expectations is overpowered by his wish for vengeance against those who have wronged him. Justice takes many guises. This one is a carefully curated façade that hides a burning fury.

“‘Tis only a suggestion, sir Akechi.” Her tone is dark, and she fights to restrain her emotions. “Your purpose is your own, and you may pursue it as you wish. If I may, I urge you not to deprive yourself of moments of happiness in your journey to see it through.”

Heysel glares at Akechi, at his fractured composure, a man trapped by a web of corrupted circumstance. “I know what it is to be harrowed by history. My past is coloured by death and sorrow. It gnaws at me, threatens to consume me every day of my life. I wake up and I wonder why I am alive, and my family is not. I wonder if my own pitiful survival justifies the execution of innumerable others. My past will tear me apart if I let it, leaving nothing but the husk of a pathetic hollow.”

Try as she might to hold it back, her tone is rising to a near shout, her eyes are fiery, and she clenches the phone in her hands with such force that it threatens to shatter. The room blurs into a furious smear of crimson, the candles roar into bonfires, and a screaming, persistent howling fills every inch of her skull.

“But I am Heysel, unyielding daughter of the Abysswalkers! I will not permit my past to hold me back from finding joy, companionship, ambition! I will not let it win!”

Her last words ring through the common room. Would the Palilicium’s dampened walls have dampened something of this magnitude? Breathing raggedly and unsteadily, she wills herself to calm again, slowing her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, and relaxing her grip.

Her holophone chimes, and she fishes it out to see that her sixteen app downloads are complete. It took a long time; this technology has its limits.

She deeply exhales. “Do what you will. I’m going to start on this… ‘Bong Fact’.”

Whatever good was contained in her words seemed to have been erased entirely. As Heysel raises her voice, Akechi seems to flinch. And he raises his hands defensively, as if to block an upcoming blow. That never arrives. 

But his mind works quicker than the reality of the situation, shaken already by what he said minutes ago. Were it another situation, he would have taken it in stride. Right now, he could feel his surroundings crumbling down. It is a scene he unfortunately knows too well.

[tw child abuse, violence]