[i]Earlier...[/i] A marble statue stood before Handsome Gunther. It depicted a young woman with her arms raised over her head, and a face frozen in fear. Her toga was pulled tight against her shoulders while ghoulish claws attempted to drag her into the earth. The ghost tipped his head side to side. He observed it from every angle. Above, below, before floating around all sides. But he was still unsure what its purpose was. He floated up to it and stuck his head inside. Easy enough for a specter to do, as few physical objects impeded their movement. It was dark, but Gunther could [i]smell[/i] something inside the statue. [b]”Ah.“[/b] Gunther pulled his head out. [b]”Is that gasoline? That must be why you've got torches everywhere.“[/b] He folded his hands behind his back. [b]”Not bad, Dale, not bad at all.“[/b] “It’s no replacement for Sofron, but I wouldn’t want him on my team anyhow.” Arzendale laughed, taking a sip from his champagne flute. Red stained his lips as he partook in libations, extending another glass to fill from his fountain before offering it to the floating ghost. “How’s the cellar’s renovations going? Suppose you too were against having those kids of yours just plant the place with explosives and bury the intruders?” [b]”Maverick has Bastion now, so we’re expecting Billy boy and some espers. Explosives won’t set a monster of his caliber back too much. Even less so if he brings some of his monstrous buddies along. And with my luck those kids’d cave the place in. They’ve all got butterfingers, can’t hold nothin’ but fireballs.“[/b] Gunther looked at the glass of wine and raised an eyebrow. Poltergeists couldn’t really interact with the physical world, and that meant drinking from a glass, regardless of what was inside it. But there was a certain image holding a glass conveyed, so Gunther released a single spirit from his tome, and the glass floated between his fingers. [b]”No love for Sofron huh? I doubt Justin would part with him anyway. Why don’t you like him? Is it his ego, or that he failed to stop a group of espers once already?“[/b] “Neither, dear friend.” The sovereign raised his flute, clinking it against Gunther’s own. “It’s just a matter of generational divide, you see. Sofron’s blood still runs too hot in his veins and for all his experience, he’s still naught more than an esper. Obsessed with power and violence, with singular blows to end fights before they begin. No love for the dance, nor for the rest.” The blood filling his glass rose up, crystallizing into a gem that Arzendale caught between his fangs. “Mere beasts, the lot of them. And while beasts are fun to toy with, they are [i]so[/i] bothersome to leash, especially when [i]his[/i] favorite methodology involves setting everything ablaze with arcane flame.” The sanguine crystal shattered, and he smiled as if he had eaten a piece of candy. “Though passion and practicality too has its merits I suppose. This soul is simply too old to appreciate the efficiency espoused by this era of esper.” [b]”Their passion is the most interesting thing about them. So short lived, but the brightest candles often are.“[/b] Gunther went to drink, but the blood ran down the side of the glass instead of his intangible throat. [b]”Yet we [i]are[/i] both working with espers anyway. Justin’s letting me use his violin player. Going by what you said about Sofron, you wouldn’t like her. I’ve taken to calling her ‘wild child’ when I know she can’t hear me.“[/b] His tube-like lips curled into a smile [b]”But there are some people who really care about her, and it’ll be fascinating to see what happens if they meet.“[/b] He jostled his flute and watched the blood swirl inside the glass. [b]”The sight of blood does nothing for me Dale. But emotion? That’s something I could get drunk off of.“[/b] “That is what sustains us, isn’t it? Though as the architect of your own defenses, would it not be a simple matter for you to dangle this wild child of yours above, say, a lake of liquid death and see which of them takes the bite?” [b]”I could, but honestly Dale? I’m not an old fashioned villain. Tying her up over pits of lava or to train tracks isn’t my thing.“[/b] With a chuckle, Gunther attempted to drink a second time, and a second bead of blood ran down the side of the glass. [b]”I don’t want to be an interface for their despair. Humans are selfish, love to get angry, and they don’t forgive easily. If I tie her up somewhere dangerous, they’re going to target that hatred at me. But if I let her run free? If she tells her friends how much she hates them with her own lips? If they kill her because she’s too strong to neutralize otherwise? Then they have to turn that hatred on themselves or her.“[/b] He shook his head. [b]”In this day and age, humans only take responsibility for things they do directly. I’m not going to hang her over a pool of liquid death, because I know they’ll push her into it [i]for[/i] me.“[/b] “That’s a fair enough point, but to play the devil’s advocate just a little bit, I do believe the nature of interfacing means that they’ll neither blame themselves nor that tiger cub.” The beads that rolled off Gunther’s glass crawled back up, slithering into the flute once more. Arzendale placed his own empty glass back into the pallid hands of his fountain, his gaze turning towards that massive portrait of Justin once more. “They’ll naturally turn their hatred to the young master himself, no matter how genuine the cub’s vitriol is. Hatred feeds best upon grand ideas and unreachable targets, after all, so for it to direct itself onto an individual instead…well, staining your hands is the bare minimum here.” [b]”I think it’s worth mentioning that I have no preference for who or what feels despair. The espers are only half the equation after all. Wild child, the little pyromancers, all capable of feeling things that their fellow man inflicts on them. It’s all just a bonus on top of keeping the mansion safe. It’s not always possible to invoke despair in humans.“[/b] He rolled his eyes off to the side. [b]”There are going to be people who feel no remorse. Humans that delight in just killing things, more so than any ‘monster’ an esper would try to slay. But in those cases, I’m unsure if there is an approach that works for them.“[/b] Gunther put on a crooked smile. [b]”You might not approve, but I’d be okay with them hating master Carnage. You live a lot longer when you don’t make yourself the subject of people’s ire, so I’m fine with all that being put against him instead of me. I’m sure he revels in that hatred anyway.“[/b] “Ah, and so, our friendship ends,” Arzendale chuckled, “for I too am an exceedingly greedy being, desiring nothing more than the rage of all those who’d face me. Life is little more than a dream, so spoke the poet. Transient and fleeting, yet stagnant and suffocating. It delights me to know though, Gunther, that you still possess that attachment to life, in spite of your current constitution.” The sovereign pressed his nail against his fountain again, creating a new spot from which crimson flowed. Bringing it up to blot out the candlelight of the chandelier, Arzendale marveled at the complexities of light and shadow within human blood. “When this falls, will you flee? Or will you perish?” [b]”I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Dale. Like any poltergeist, I’ve never actually lived. It’s been places like this where people’s grudges build until I came into being. And while I may exist, I don’t truly live unless I’m taking in spectacles like what this foyer will become!”[/b] Gunther cast his arms out at his surroundings, spinning into the air. [b]”I only lament that we can’t work together.”[/b] “But alas, it wouldn’t be any fun for either of us, and the side we leave uncovered would inevitably be broken through.” Arzendale shrugged languidly. “Mayhaps another opportunity will present itself, my friend. The Bates could pay a visit after GEMINI and Maverick do. Though those two [i]are[/i] just another collective of pyromaniacs in a long line of them.” [b]”It is just a job at the end of the day.”[/b] Gunther said with a bow. [b]”It would be an opportunity to test your ability against Sofrons indirectly, would it not?”[/b] “A job for you, a diversion for me.” Arzendale raised his glass and drained it dry. “And perhaps it would be a worthwhile trial, but the stories I’ve heard of Sofron in his youth make even darling Regina’s tantrums dim in comparison. Pity, what he is now.” A snort. “A toast, to the Timekeeper, that nagging whoreson.” [b]”Cheers.”[/b] After the glasses clicked, both creatures tipped back their glasses.