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[originallutece]

Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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[originallutece]

[She hums her agreement. Her inclination is to pursue Ardyn for details, to pick apart each animal until she understands them precisely, but they'll be here all right if they do that. So . . . all right, and Rosalind nods.]

The second?

[daemonized]

[Ah, the second one.

Only a flicker of hesitation, but he pushes through it.]

You'll like the second one. There's a conundrum in it.

I was on a train, but there was blizzard rushing through it. Through the train, Rosalind. And yet I stood there, as if it were nothing unusual, waiting in the aisle for someone stumbling towards me. A man wearing all black, though I cannot hope to remember what his face looked like. I know that he was angry, that he hated me. And yet I relished in his pain. I had never felt such a bitterness within me before.

Hard to reconcile with the memory of a world-traveling healer, hm?

[originallutece]

. . . a bit.

[But not entirely. Everyone has enemies, and though she's very fond of him, Ardyn's personality is one that tends to purposely irritate. But . . . irritate is one thing. Bitterness, pain, hatred, those things aren't simply the result of a few flippant jokes and teasing remarks.]

Do you remember anything else about him? Did he say anything?

[daemonized]

[She's correct in that assessment of him. Ardyn is a frustrating man, and he can annoy others who do not have the patience to deal with his sometimes patronizing manner, but there's a difference between this and cruelty. He would never wish suffering upon anyone, nor would he ever hope to harbor that kind of bitterness within him. It felt searing yet empty, as if hatred itself had left a great chasm in his chest.

Needless to say, that's not the type of person he is.]

He was yelling at me, through the blizzard. But as hard I try to remember, I can't. But he was so angry, Rosalind. He must have been wronged in most impressive way.

[originallutece]

. . . perhaps.

[She glances down at the floor a few seconds, thinking, before meeting his eyes again.]

Or perhaps not. Perhaps you stopped him from doing something loathsome, or horrifying. Perhaps there was a justification for why he hated you in his mind, yes, but that doesn't mean you were inherently wrong, Ardyn.

[daemonized]

[He gives her a look that flickers with the faintest appreciation at her attempts to twist it around with a positive spin.]

...Yes, I know. It's foolish to jump to conclusions when we don't have the full narrative available to us. Any number of things could have led up to that point.

But everyday it bothers me that I don't know what. You'd feel the same way, I'm sure.

[originallutece]

Yes.

[To say the least. Bothers isn't the right verb; vex might better suit. He'll certainly hear all about it; she can't imagine she won't spend hours scowling down over the inconsistency of all the jumbled memories.]

. . . that's three. The train, the healing, and the animals. The fourth?

[daemonized]

[Ah, the fourth. The one everyone finds so dreadfully amusing. He supposes he does, too, in a way.]

The attire I used to wear! [He grins.] What a glorious thing it was. I had a wing, you know.

[what.]

[originallutece]

A wing. Just the one?

[daemonized]

One wing, worn on the shoulder, extending past my arm. Black... feathery, like wings often are.

[originallutece]

Sort of . . . sticking up?

[She grabs a spare sheet of paper, and hey, that's not a half-bad doodle of a figure with a wing sticking out of his coat. She's got the length wrong, though; she's imagining something half an arm's span.]

[daemonized]

[He gives a little "ha" at her attempt.]

No, not quite like that.

[He grabs at another pen next to him, clicking it and doodling on a sticky note. Ardyn's no artist, but it also isn't too bad. I mean, it obviously looks nothing like this but pretend he's drawn the wing-arm part rather accurately.

He slides the sticky note pad to her.]

There.

[originallutece]

Huh. I assume the choice was purely aesthetic?

[You Final Fantasy weirdo, but at least there's not 308138 zippers.]

[daemonized]

[he is the Worst Dressed Final Fantasy too]

Aesthetic, or even maybe symbolic. Why else would I wear something so... impractical?

[And that's a harsh criticism coming from a man who dresses as, ah, eccentrically as Ardyn.]

If I was a healer, maybe I was a religious man as well.

[originallutece]

God, I hope not.

[The words are out of her mouth before she realizes it, and she wrinkles her nose.]

. . . though it's certainly possible.

[daemonized]

[He looks at her with bemusement, grin skewing lopsided.]

You'll not offend me. I'm not a particularly religious man myself.

...Well. Not in this lifetime.

[originallutece]

Which, much as I'm fascinated by your other one, is the only lifetime that truly interests me.

[She tugs the drawing back towards her as she says that, avoiding his eye. Peeling off the top note, she begins doodling a more fleshed out version of that outfit. She is fairly good at drawing-- not so much so to be a professional, nothing like that, but good enough she must practice in her spare time.]

Tell me what else you wore.

i can't believe you made me write out his disaster of an outfit

[daemonized]

[Rosalind, are you sure this is a route you want to go down? Once you visualize his canon outfit, you cannot unsee it.]

Well... from top to bottom. First, a hat. Much like the one I wear in this lifetime. I had a long black coat on, sporting something like a... cloth mantle? With a floral print. It had a hoodie, as well. Underneath that was a vest, and a shirt with a high, frilly sort of collar. A burnt orange scarf. Pinstripe pants, olive green. What else?

[ardyn n o]

Black boots, or was it just shoes with boot covers? I don't recall looking at my feet that often. Ah, and fingerless gloves. [A generalized sweep of his hand.] All in dark hues, unless otherwise noted. Black and greys. I'm sure there are details I'm forgetting...

sorry i'm NOT sorry

[originallutece]

Good god, Ardyn . . .

[She murmurs that as she draws. It's not a perfect rendition, not at all, but it's fairly close. It's . . . not a pretty picture, good lord, but that's no fault of the artist. Ardyn, why do you dress this way.]

What the hell is the point of fingerless gloves?

quiet screaming

[daemonized]

[To be fair, he doesn't dress quite that extravagantly now. But if given the option? ...He probably would.]

Obviously my palms were cold. But my fingers were not. [/sarcasm]

What do you have against fingerless gloves?

[Don't YOU also want to dress like a hobo????]

[originallutece]

They're silly.

[And she has no room for silliness in her life, thank you.]

Save in the winter, but I assume these were more for aesthetic purposes than practical ones.

[daemonized]

A safe assumption, if not for the fact that practicality did not seem to be a concern of mine.

[At least he's self-aware enough to admit that much.]

But let's backtrack a bit. What's wrong with silliness?

[originallutece]

[She gives him a little Look.]

Everything.

[daemonized]

Surely not! [He feigns being utterly shocked. (Speaking of silly.) Fingers splayed against chest, he says-] Even I indulge in inanity now and again. It's refreshing.

[originallutece]

It's irritating.

[Good grief. She's not so humorless as to roll her eyes at his little display, but it's a close thing.]

And self-indulgent. There's nothing wrong with it in private, but at work, or day to day? No.