Noble Decadence (Faust)

[Faust Eisenritter]

Faust watched and listened as the fellow Admiral spoke to the young woman. It was a sight to behold - to watch him so effortlessly speak with the young... 'servant'. Faust found himself at a loss with regards to speaking. After all, he didn't know what it was like to be taken as a 'servant'. He had never experienced something like that first hand. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he did something wrong? But Miguel was relaxed. He was cool and calm, telling the young girl that they'd appreciate it if she could write them a story. As Miguel turned to him, looking for affirmation, Faust nodded and smiled a little.

"Yeah!" he chimed in. He couldn't begin to tell the Admiral how grateful he was. It seemed that, despite how quiet Miguel normally seemed, he knew how to be encouraging and considerate towards the 'servants'. "A book sounds great. I'm sure whatever you write will be wonderful!".

The young woman, looking between the two for a moment, began to give a tiny hint of a smile before nodding and walking away, stepping out of the room. Faust watched the young woman vanish out the door. He wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow with his metallic hand, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. He really hoped no one showed up trying to offer servant girls to the Admirals again. He'd rather accept the possible demotion for not attending one of these mandatory gatherings again.

"Well then, Miguel... I think I'll go get another glass, since I spilled the last one..." he spoke quickly before taking off, walking across the room towards a table placed at the side where he'd picked up his earlier glass. He was certain of it - this place was not for him. Nor for Miguel, for that matter. If he was lucky, perhaps he could sneak out early. Maybe he could lie and say he was just feeling a bit sick. Or maybe he could make some lie about his mechanical arm needing maintenance. As he stood by the table, pouring himself another drink, he knew one thing was certain - the only good thing that happened here was a chat with his fellow Admiral.

[Miguel Van Helsing]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212] THIS IS A GAME. DO NOT TRUST YOUR EARS. WHAT YOU HEAR ARE LIES. Miguel watched with a detached facade as Faust played along with his plan, simply observing how the other man handled the situation he had set-up for him. From what he could see, the man was cooperative and knew how to play along when needed. Those were observations that he had already gathered from his earlier interactions with the man. He did find out something new though. The general seemed to be much more open with his emotions, which looked like a hindrance when combined with his lesser control. The broken wine glass was proof of that, if he had read the admiral right. And he was rarely ever wrong about these things. The Shandian was well-aware that he seemed very callous because of his focus on his observations of the admiral instead of the slave girl he had just helped. However, he was absolutely sure that there was no one who could read his mind right now. Besides, he had to focus on something other than the rampant slavery and debauchery that was going on right in front of him or he would really lose it and main every single aristocrat in this residence. Not even the sense of satisfaction from seeing two slave girls temporarily relieved of their duty could cool his boiling blood, so he had to resort to mentally picking things apart for future use instead. Now, his thoughts were rarely so vicious and bloodthirsty but seeing most of the things one absolutely abhorred being shamelessly paraded to one’s face would wear down the patience of even a saint. If he remembered right, even some of these humans’ holy figures from what little remained of their literature and folklore have lashed out at the sight of these unforgivable insults. So engrossed was Miguel in his thoughts and in calming himself down yet again that he could barely manage a nod when Faust excused himself to get another drink. The small part of his mind that paid attention to his fellow admiral couldn’t blame him for wanting another drink after what just happened. At least now, he was relatively alone. Maybe now he could finally find some time to himself to cool down before he did something stupid that would cost him everything he’d worked for to reach this point. It wasn’t like there would be anyone else who would be foolhardy enough to approach him while he was alone, right? “Hello again, esteemed admiral~! Where are your other companions?” He really should stop tempting fate. It seemed to love proving him wrong. Damn it all to hell. He needed to go on a drinking binge after this night after dealing with all of this. ”Errands.” Miguel’s tone was slightly frosty as he glanced at the noble who had approached him earlier. “I see….” If the noble noticed his cold tone, he gave no indication of it as he continued. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t mind some pleasant company, now would you?” Miguel declined to answer, opting to stare at the rest of the party instead. Unfortunately for him, the noble took the silence as a yes. “Great! I’ll just stay here with you until your companions come back then!” He remarked all-too cheerfully. Someone please strike me down now. Or preferably, him and the rest of his heathen companions. TAGGING: FAUST | WORDS: 552 | NOTES: HUNGRY BLADE

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[Faust Eisenritter]

Faust felt like he'd dodged a bullet, and now he just felt like relaxing with some wine. Taking another glass he held it firmly in his flesh hand whilst the metallic hand gripped a bottle of wine and began to pour. The glass quickly began to fill up until it was just an inch or so below the top of the glass. With his drink filled the Admiral set the bottle down on the table and began to take a slow sip of his drink. Perhaps if he got drunk and made an arse of himself he'd be barred from dinners like this. Then again, he'd also get himself demoted, and given the work he needed to accomplish demotion was not something he could afford. He gulped, lowering his glass as he down the liquid and sighed. Time to go rejoin the only person he liked at this dinner.

Turning about and walking back, however, Faust began to notice that the Admiral was not alone. Accompanying him was a nobleman who seemed so eager to talk and talk whilst the Admiral remained silent, though Faust could swear he looked like he wished to be anywhere else. Not that Faust hadn't been feeling that way all night, of course, but he could understand not wishing to speak with the nobles. Putting on his best attempt at a smile, Faust continued forwards, walking over to the two to rejoin Admiral Gintaka. As he drew close he caught the glance of the noble, to whom he issued a small nod - the barest attempt to maintain some form of manners.

"Ah, Admiral Kokuro! Another glass I see!" the nobleman spoke. Faust chuckled, but it felt rather devoid of joy.

"Keeping it in my normal hand this time," Faust explained, raising the drink a little. "I don't entirely trust the mechanical one".

[Miguel Van Helsing]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212] THIS IS A GAME. DO NOT TRUST YOUR EARS. WHAT YOU HEAR ARE LIES. Unfortunately, no one was struck down. Instead, a savior appeared in the form of Admiral Kokuro holding a glass of wine, the only man in this godforsaken party that he could tolerate for more than an hour without getting homicidal urges. Miguel was very careful not to show any form of relief in his eyes as he turned to look at his fellow admiral, only feigned indifference. He was careful to hold his tongue as he gave the other admiral an acknowledging nod as he didn’t trust himself at the moment to not say something that might give his true state of mind away. “A mechanical hand?” He didn’t need his Mantra to know that the noble was intrigued by the comment. Thank god that the attention was off of him now. He could use this little distraction to gather his will and wit to withstand the rest of this farce. “You must be one of those cyborgs then~! How interesting!” The noble beamed as he moved closer to the shorter admiral and took the mechanical arm into his hands and began to rub it through the fabric of his suit without asking for permission. A spark could be seen in his eyes as he continued to inspect the arm with fervour. “My my… even though it’s covered up, your arm looks and feels so realistic! Tell me, can you feel anything with this fake arm of yours? I heard that the esteemed inventor Vegapunk has been making strides in his innovations and creations, and I thought that made he incorporated a way for your arm to feel. I wouldn’t doubt that a man of your station would be able to afford such luxuries.” Miguel could only look upon the entire situation with a raised eyebrow. The scene playing out in front of him reminded him of all of those nobles and other snobby and high-ranked dignitaries that went into his former owner’s home and took what seemed like hours in marvelling at his silver wings. He was sorely tempted to bail Faust out of the awkward position he found himself in because he knew exactly what it felt like to be scrutinized like some sort of sideshow freak –though thankfully the noble was more fascinated than anything else and he didn’t seem to be approaching that level- but that would focus his attention back to him. He’d rather not have that, so he’ll just leave Faust to his fate. Besides, Faust seemed like a bright man. Unless Faust asked for his help again, Miguel was all too happy to leave him to his own devices for now. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Come and take a look at this! This arm is quite fascinating.” Upon seeing the noble wave his friends over while holding Faust’s mechanical arm, Miguel reconsidered his stance and sent the other admiral a subtle look that said do you need my help again?, because he was starting to think that he was going to need it in the sudden increase of sharks in the pool. TAGGING: FAUST | WORDS: 507 | NOTES: POOR FAUST

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[Faust Eisenritter]

Faust hadn't been good with talking to the 'servants' before, it was true. He wasn't sure how to talk to someone who had been through such... Horrors without upsetting them. He worried about coming across as commanding or distressing. So he had been grateful when Miguel assisted him and spoke for him. So right now, Faust mused, he figured he should do the same for him. He didn't spend much time with noblemen, but he knew how to socialize normally. He knew how to talk to people. So he held up his arm and let the nobles take an interest. He let them look and inspect his fake limb and discuss it. Then the question came - the question. Could he feel anything with it?

"I've always been able to feel with it, actually. But not in the way you think..." he remarked, his lips curling. "I doubt you can imagine what it's like to lose an arm. I couldn't either, until it happened to me. It was that conflict in Loguetown two years ago, when the Marines and one of the Yonkou fought over Loguetown. The "Hellfire Queen" declared the area as her territory, as I'm sure you remember...".

He took a quick sip of his drink, no doubt aware he'd already caught their attention with the story. Sometimes that was all you needed - a story. Grab their attention with something and weave a story. Humanity always did have a fascination for storytelling. It was the oldest tradition out there.

"Lost my arm in the battle, and by the time I woke up afterwards they'd already fitted me with a new one. But even back then I could feel something in my arm," he continued, grasping his own shoulder. "It was like something was pulling and tugging. I could feel my flesh being torn away and my bone breaking. My arm wasn't there, but I could still feel it. It was like a phantom of my own arm and it was being torn off all over again. Seared by fire, hacked apart with a blade...".

Faust seemed to turn distant, staring down at the shoulder. He continued to clutch it firmly, his fingers curling.

"It didn't come off in one blow. The blade was too blunt after shedding so much blood on the battlefield. But I'd been taking bullets and blades all day, so I couldn't do much as she just hacked into my arm again and again, scorching my wounds with her powers. And when I got the new arm, that sensation didn't go away. My mind knew I'd lost the arm, but my body hadn't caught up. So I re-experienced the pain like a memory that won't let itself be forgotten..." Faust concluded the tale, turning silent.

That aught to unsettle them.

[Miguel Van Helsing]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212] THIS IS A GAME. DO NOT TRUST YOUR EARS. WHAT YOU HEAR ARE LIES. Perhaps that pirate I had killed a few months prior had been right about labelling these so-called nobles as a bunch of locust…. Blue gray eyes widened ever so slightly as they witnessed a good portion of the other partygoers flock towards their position upon the noble’s call. His instincts started to stir at the sight, urging him to move away from the crowd immediately. Miguel mentally scowled and squashed those urges down. He couldn’t afford to look weak and meek in front of some of the people he had been sworn to serve. They would eat him alive if he showed just a hint of weakness in this crowd. He’d seen it before and even had it happen to himself years ago, in darker times. He could still feel the phantom whip striking at his wings and back for his rebellion, and though he knew that he was far stronger than his oppressors now in the physical sense he couldn’t help but keep up his guard in the face of so many of these vipers since they still held more power over him in the political sense. Miguel’s attention was diverted away from the vipers and drawn towards Faust instead when he began to talk. It wasn’t just Miguel too; even the nobles had quieted down to listen to the other admiral as he began to answer the question. “Yes… I speak for most of us when we can say that we remember that heathen she-devil who dared claim Loguetown….” One of the nobles, a tall bearded bear of a man, shook his fist at the memory. It had been insulting for the entirety of the World Government to be challenged for the place that served as the stage where the most infamous pirate of all time, Gold Roger, had been executed for his crimes. The other nobles began to speak in hushed tones as well upon remembering that dark day two years ago, only to quiet down again when Faust continued with his story. The silence quickly turned tense and uncomfortable as the man began to vividly describe the pain that he felt in losing his arm and afterwards even with his new arm, as well as the horrific circumstances that caused it. “That’s… quite… terrible, Admiral.” The noble who spoke up was looking rather green as he bit his lip. “How in the world did you manage to deal with such a devastating loss?” That particular noble wasn’t the only one in the crowd looking green. Most of the other nobles had looks of horror, disgust, fear, or any combination of the three on their faces as they had continued to listen to the story. Some of them even looked like they were ready to lose their dinner or like they needed a couple of trips to the nearest restroom. Only Miguel remained completely unaffected by the other admiral’s words, with his face completely blank and expressionless throughout the entire re-telling. That was only because his Mantra was as much a curse as it was a gift. All he allowed himself to think about on the matter was that sometimes it didn’t pay to be able to feel everything near him, especially in times of war and chaos. TAGGING: FAUST | WORDS: 541 | NOTES: TO EMPATHY

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[Faust Eisenritter]

It had become apparent just how good Faust was at weaving stories, managing to capture the attention of the various nobles. His story of losing his own arm and the pain that came with it had definitely had the intended effect - several of the nobles began to look green, feeling disgusted and uncomfortable thanks to the mental image of the charred, butchered flesh of what his arm must have looked like. After all, Faust's intention was to play it all up - to make the nobles feel so uncomfortable that they might choose to leave rather than stay and continue to listen. Still, refusing to betray his intentions, Faust avoided smirking and instead looked down at his mechanical arm with a thoughtful look.

"Yeah... How do I deal with it?" he asked aloud, as if even he wasn't sure. He moved his arm a bit, turning it around as if he was inspecting it whilst the fingers curled. He took a brief pause, as if to mull over the question in his mind. He took a few moments before he looked back up to the nobles, his eyes moving across the group of listeners. "It's not like that memory really went away, or the feeling. It still creeps up from time to time, and it makes me cringe...".

For a moment the Admiral glanced back down to his mechanical arm again, watching as he clasped his fingers in and clenched the hand into a fist. Without looking up, he spoke again.

"I guess I never really managed to deal with it... I don't think it's something you can deal with. You'll always remember the pain, the agony... That feeling like your limb is still there even though it isn't..." he mused aloud, continuing to stare at the mechanical prosthetic. "It's not that you learn how to deal with it. You just learn how to live with it".

[Miguel Van Helsing]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212] THIS IS A GAME. DO NOT TRUST YOUR EARS. WHAT YOU HEAR ARE LIES. It was fascinating how these nobles are easily entranced by tales of tragedy and mutilation. Granted, it was easy to see how anyone would be pulled in by a story like that as long as the storyteller was of the decent sort. While the tale was certainly interesting, Miguel got more entertainment value at the various reactions that the nobles seemed to have. There was just something so satisfying in watching their sickened and frightened reactions at Faust’s story. Yet, he also saw the sheer hypocrisy of their reactions. They cringed and got sick over a missing arm but annihilating and enslaving entire islands don’t make them bat an eyelash? There was something very wrong with their logic. But then again, that was part of the situation’s amusement factor. Unaware of what Miguel was really thinking, the nobles continued to listen in rapt attention while mostly ignoring the other Admiral. This time though, their faces were tinged with confusion. It was as if the concept of living with an inconvenience instead of dealing with it. Given how pampered and detached their lives were from the rest of the world’s, Miguel didn’t doubt that they probably never had to live with any of their mistakes because they could just will it all away with their power and influence. Once Faust was done answering, the same noble actually scoffed this time. “Live with it? Such a strange notion. Why, if I were you I would have dealt with the wench who took away my arm and sentenced her to the lowest levels of Impel Down myself!” Another noble snorted. “Just send the witch to Impel Down?! Preposterous! If she did that to me I would have her mutilated by my slaves!” This started an argument within all the nobles in the vicinity as they tried to outdo each other in terms of what they would do to the Hellfire Queen if she had done something like what she did to Faust in Loguetown. All of them were boasting and laughing at the top of their voices as they made up ludicrous solution after solution. Miguel watched the small men squabble like hens, his eyes narrowed with an eerie glow surrounding his irises. This… this was doing nothing but spitting in Faust’s and his men’s collective efforts to defeat the Yonkou and defend Loguetown with their petty pride! It was absolutely deplorable! Flaunting slaves in front of him was already infuriating, but now this?! This is unacceptable! ”Gentlemen?” The sound of Miguel’s voice made the entire squabbling stop, and seemingly as one they all turned to look at the other Admiral. To their surprise, he was smiling warmly at them with… glowing eyes? ”If you all think that you could have done a better job than Admiral Kokuro and his men did all those years ago… why don’t you do us a favour and do it yourselves?” The nobles all shut up, unable to say anything to that. TAGGING: FAUST | WORDS: 495 | NOTES: UH OH, SOMEONE'S MAD

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