[His brow raises slightly, turning to plant himself in a casual seat against the windowsill. Composure against Akira's very obvious tension, meeting that vicious expression and quietly dreading what he sees. What in the world had happened out on that mission of theirs...?]
No energy for banter? You're not making a very convincing argument for me to back down on you, Akira.
[Still, he pockets the sugar. No need to escalate just yet.]
You can drop the manners. I'm not here to lecture you.
[Good choice, Solomon. Had he insisted, Akira would have made good on the impulse to slap his hand away and make a greater mess of his room. As it is, he's already more disorganized than usual, stray books and articles of clothing littering the floor. This isn't like Akira.]
So what? You're here to threaten me? I'm fine, Solomon, and I'm not letting you shove your nose where it doesn't belong.
[No, no, this isn't like Akira at all. He seems to realize that too, manually smoothing out the hard lines fighting to keep his expression pulled into a nasty scowl. Fighting the tumult inside of himself exhausts him, but for however long he can endure it, he will. He can't let this... this thing inside of him win.]
...Anyway, if you aren't here to lecture me, what do you want?
[This aches at him, aches and aches and aches. Will this be the third time, now?
He can't help but reach out to check if there's another ping of magic surrounding Akira besides his own (13). A curse, maybe? He hates that it's so hard to tell like this.]
I want to know where my sweet Thief of Hearts went. [His smile grows more cautious. Less genuine. He holds the concern back like the taut string of a bow. Where is that honey that felt so charming? The wit that kept them at one another's toes? What turned it into venom and ice?] Denying a chance to sate your curiosity? Someone might think you caught the plague.
[...He can feel the tendrils of Solomon's magic creeping into his space. Didn't he just tell this guy not to interfere? Akira grits his teeth, displeasure scrawled on his face, but doesn't say a word. Solomon will indeed feel more to Akira than his magic alone, sensing dozens upon dozens of dormant somethings.
This doesn't feel like a curse. If anything, it feels like possession, but the countless souls lying just out of reach within Akira's soul have been there from the start. One more unwelcome visitor doesn't make much difference.]
What are you planning, Solomon?
[He learned some time ago never to trust a smile that doesn't reach as far as the eyes. Akira's stare narrows. He takes a step towards Solomon, hands slipping into his coat pockets. Within one, Akira steels his grip.]
The longer I let you linger, the more problems you'll cause. Isn't that right? It doesn't matter what's on my mind. You're overstepping bounds.
Am I? Well. I've never been one for following the rules.
[Not when it comes to those he's taken a liking to. He will admit his own hypocrisy without shame in that regard.
Possession... at the very least, Solomon remembers what Akira had said of his own Shadows. To sense them so immediately is new, and he feels regret almost immediately at how invasive the action is on his part. But if one of these is the problem... would Akira have the willpower to fight against it here without it whittling him away?
That tension spirals tighter, the curl of a wrist betraying preparation. It feels like Mika all over again - a predator trying to size him up, trying to plan an attack. He stays calm, his wand still tucked against his hand but not pulled out. He knows he can manage a barrier quick enough... but this is not a fight he wants.]
You were the one who came to me, if I recall. Have you changed your mind on my intentions with you already?
[At least one of them is staying calm. At least one of them still has the capacity to.
Akira's fingers curl around the hard edges of his gun, index finding the smooth parabola of the trigger. What are you so afraid of? Not of Solomon, surely. No, no, Akira trusts this man. Opaque as he is, Akira likes him. What festers within him does not.
Perhaps that's clear when one arm crosses over the other to hold it down, to prevent it from guiding his gun into the open air and taking aim at Solomon's forehead. For a moment, that festering thing slips up and the real Akira takes over, teeth troubling his lip a ghastly, bloodless white, sweat clinging to his temples.
He shakes his head over and over again. Words clot in his throat.]
...How far would you go for me?
[Solomon cares, doesn't he? More than he'll ever admit. Surely, then, he'd be willing to—]
It's the evidence of a fight that forces his expression to waver just slightly. A pang in the chest, of both immense concern and an odd sort of pride. There you are, Akira. He sees you, Akira.
He keeps himself steady, wand settling further into his fingers.]
How far is one galaxy to the next, or the throne of heaven to the depths of fire??
[A slight twinge to his smile - a fondness, briefly, that softens at his eyes.]
I've walked through hell and back for far less than a spirit as bright as yours.
[...There it is, at last. A real smile, genuine and slight. A smile meant just for him. Akira should be overjoyed, thrilled, to have such clear evidence that he's made some impact on Solomon, however small. That he means something to him even if there are countless others that occupy the same space in his heart.
But it isn't enough. Who is to blame for drawing the gun and pressing the barrel squarely to Solomon's temple? Akira doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.
He loads a bullet into the chamber.]
...And what would you do for me? Anything I asked?
[He inhales sharply at the cold press of metal against hair and skin. But the closed distance is not without benefit. His wand extends in the same motion, pressed against the same spot against his ribs that Solomon had shoved him weeks ago.
"A demon would swallow you whole like this, Akira."
His pulse races in his chest. It's delicate, delicate, to feel out one that might not be themselves anymore.]
If Akira asks me genuinely, I will always have an answer. Even if my answer is not one he likes.
[But only for Akira. Not for whatever, whoever, this passenger of his is.]
But he must ask. Not threaten. He is not a beast, and I am not a god.
[The gesture is familiar, so much so that Akira feels that phantom pain radiating out from his sternum. A demon would swallow you whole like this, Akira. He's never fallen to the advances of a demon before. His psyche was never so frail a thing that he was the one imprisoned within the heart of a demon and not the other way around.
The hand wrapped around his gun trembles. His knuckles blanch white. His hand tenses, loosens, and tenses again. The conflict within Akira plays itself out in the downturn of his eyes, eyes that squeeze tightly shut, eyes that fight to seek out Solomon's warm brassy gaze and linger there.
Eventually, his lips part to speak. Every word is some heavy, leaden thing, and just as painful to push out.]
[His composure breaks again - a crack, despite himself. Pained. Furious. What a rotten trick.]
I politely decline.
[It's his own turn for venom.]
If you want him dead so badly, then come out and do it yourself. Or are you enjoying the temporary safety he brings you?
[His incantation is barely a whisper, but the energy that pulses from his wand beckons like a lure, an echo against Akira's bones. Here, here, lies temptation, it screams - the closest he can manage to his demonic ties in his current state, a dangerous and desperate move.]
Maybe I should rip you out and see what lords you beg to?
A side of Solomon that he's never seen. One full of venom and vim, his anger genuine. A sight like this would have dazzled Akira speechless before, but now? Right now? Staring into those razor-sharp eyes hurts. Aches like an open wound. Maybe, just maybe, whatever lurks within him hears those threats for what they are.
Half-formed breaths stutter and stick in Akira's throat. He's trying hard, so very hard, to fight this thing deep into the recesses of his soul where he can chain it down, lock it up, imprison it until its ego breaks and it knows no difference between its own will and Akira's. That's how this goes, taking a demon or a Shadow and turning it onto a Persona. That's how it always worked. Luck was always on Akira's side. Now, however—]
Solomon—!
[It's Akira that pleads, his grip on the gun loose. If Solomon wants to take a chance at disarming him, now would be the time to try.]
You care about the good of humanity, don't you? If I can't get rid of this thing, if I can't take control—
[For the good of everyone else, someone will have to put him down.]
[That shock is as effective as ever, startling Akira and causing him to let go of the gun, but not before tilting it sharply upwards (11) and shooting a hole straight through the ceiling and into his upstairs neighbor's room.]
[ And thanks to that fresh hole in the ceiling they can hear the only slightly muffled sound of someone stumbling and things falling over—including a very nice porcelain vase judging by the sound of that crash— ]
[And thanks to the fresh hole in Bruno's ceiling...well Akira and Solomon probably won't hear it but Bruno might, there's a light thud and a startled yell:]
[He was just cleaning. The amount of fur and dried plant matter in his room means that just about everything in his room is a trap for dust and dirt, and he was just cleaning. But then a loud noise from somewhere in the lower floors startles him enough to reel back against the window he opened up to toss the dirt out through... And thanks to the fresh hole in Urianger's ceiling, there is now a hole in his floor.
And in the new fur rug he just bought.
Everyone might just hear what comes next.
It sounds like the shriek that the upper limit of what a human's vocal chords can make, but only just barely, delving more into something an owl or a fox might make. And most humans shriek out of terror, but this? This one is pure rage.]
And back down on floor one, there's the loud sound of a window shattering from the now, notably Mika-less room that just so happens to neighbor Akira's. )
[That sure does sound like a vase just shattered, and— who is that cursing? Joyous Day...?
Christ. Akira will need to apologize for that later, but after shouting a half-assed sorry, Akira temporarily stuffs up that hole with magic and stumbles back, falling to his knees. He'll fix that hole for real later, prommie.]
...Whew.
[Maybe that was what he needed. The heavy fog that had settled over him all day seems to have lifted, the oppressive weight on his shoulders gone. Is that it? Did the collective shock of getting zapped and throwing Day into a panic chase whatever spirit is possessing him out? Akira can only hope.]
Hey. Just... hold onto that gun for now, okay? Just in case.
[Solomon silently kicks the discarded gun to the side and advances on Akira wordlessly, wand still drawn.
Akira will be shoved backwards with a knee to the chin, prone onto his back. Another sharp incantation has Solomon's magic stirring under the press of the floor, hot and dark and aimless - an attempt at drawing a seal that he still can't quite manage, but that bubbles up from him on reflex alone under a cold, icy chant, under eyes that sharpen with an almost arrogant stature - a look so cross, so unwilling to be challenged, that he looks almost inhuman.]
"Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! May the shackles of unwanted hold within the person before me be eliminated. May they come forward and show their name plainly.
Heed me, lest I bind thee, and rob thee of thy freedom."
[It's a tugging, like someone trying to grab into the realm of the unreal and yank something forcefully to the surface by the roots. But it's a spell demanding power that Solomon no longer has within his disposal, and though he's sweating with the effort, nothing emerges.
Get away. Know your place. He will not be threatened like this. Never by them.]
[Wh- Ah— Huh? Pardon him, but did Solomon just fullass knee-punch him square in the jaw??
Arrested by the look in Solomon's eyes, Akira remains frozen in place where he's ragdolled on the floor. What is this taste on his tongue...? Akira smacks his lips once, twice. Demons? Is this what demons taste like? And for that matter, why is he tasting anything at all while Solomon is working his black magic on him? He feels chills run up and down his spine, fire and brimstone crackling in his sinuses. Can we be certain Solomon isn't a demon himself?]
Uh...
[Solomon is so cool, but Akira doesn't have the heart to tell him that he feels no different now than he did before he was rudely kicked in the face and knocked to the floor. He just feels sore.]
[His exhales come a little heavier as his wand lowers, the magic sinking into the floor like water into the ground. He doesn't respond at first, watching Akira closely...
His nod is shallow as he holds a hand out to help him up, hesitant in letting his relief show through.]
[Akira asks warily, but he takes Solomon's hand without hesitation. He's wobbly on the way up, bracing himself on Solomon's forearms.]
Hey. Before you say anything, I'm sorry. [He'll be even more sorry when he realizes just how many floors that magic bullet passed through.] I... really don't know what came over me.
[ The sudden appearance of a hole in his floor naturally meant Day had to go check it. Akira's patch job keeps a lot of things inside his room, which is arguably a blessing, but Day manages to hear Solomon's voice. There are some things magic can't keep in entirely, it seems.
...Day senses that investigating downstairs now would be inopportune, in the way someone so intrinsically tied to fate knows everything has a time and place, but he'll remember this. (What the fuck is going on down there.) ]
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No energy for banter? You're not making a very convincing argument for me to back down on you, Akira.
[Still, he pockets the sugar. No need to escalate just yet.]
You can drop the manners. I'm not here to lecture you.
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So what? You're here to threaten me? I'm fine, Solomon, and I'm not letting you shove your nose where it doesn't belong.
[No, no, this isn't like Akira at all. He seems to realize that too, manually smoothing out the hard lines fighting to keep his expression pulled into a nasty scowl. Fighting the tumult inside of himself exhausts him, but for however long he can endure it, he will. He can't let this... this thing inside of him win.]
...Anyway, if you aren't here to lecture me, what do you want?
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He can't help but reach out to check if there's another ping of magic surrounding Akira besides his own (13). A curse, maybe? He hates that it's so hard to tell like this.]
I want to know where my sweet Thief of Hearts went. [His smile grows more cautious. Less genuine. He holds the concern back like the taut string of a bow. Where is that honey that felt so charming? The wit that kept them at one another's toes? What turned it into venom and ice?] Denying a chance to sate your curiosity? Someone might think you caught the plague.
...
Something's on your mind.
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This doesn't feel like a curse. If anything, it feels like possession, but the countless souls lying just out of reach within Akira's soul have been there from the start. One more unwelcome visitor doesn't make much difference.]
What are you planning, Solomon?
[He learned some time ago never to trust a smile that doesn't reach as far as the eyes. Akira's stare narrows. He takes a step towards Solomon, hands slipping into his coat pockets. Within one, Akira steels his grip.]
The longer I let you linger, the more problems you'll cause. Isn't that right? It doesn't matter what's on my mind. You're overstepping bounds.
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[Not when it comes to those he's taken a liking to. He will admit his own hypocrisy without shame in that regard.
Possession... at the very least, Solomon remembers what Akira had said of his own Shadows. To sense them so immediately is new, and he feels regret almost immediately at how invasive the action is on his part. But if one of these is the problem... would Akira have the willpower to fight against it here without it whittling him away?
That tension spirals tighter, the curl of a wrist betraying preparation. It feels like Mika all over again - a predator trying to size him up, trying to plan an attack. He stays calm, his wand still tucked against his hand but not pulled out. He knows he can manage a barrier quick enough... but this is not a fight he wants.]
You were the one who came to me, if I recall. Have you changed your mind on my intentions with you already?
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Akira's fingers curl around the hard edges of his gun, index finding the smooth parabola of the trigger. What are you so afraid of? Not of Solomon, surely. No, no, Akira trusts this man. Opaque as he is, Akira likes him. What festers within him does not.
Perhaps that's clear when one arm crosses over the other to hold it down, to prevent it from guiding his gun into the open air and taking aim at Solomon's forehead. For a moment, that festering thing slips up and the real Akira takes over, teeth troubling his lip a ghastly, bloodless white, sweat clinging to his temples.
He shakes his head over and over again. Words clot in his throat.]
...How far would you go for me?
[Solomon cares, doesn't he? More than he'll ever admit. Surely, then, he'd be willing to—]
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It's the evidence of a fight that forces his expression to waver just slightly. A pang in the chest, of both immense concern and an odd sort of pride. There you are, Akira. He sees you, Akira.
He keeps himself steady, wand settling further into his fingers.]
How far is one galaxy to the next, or the throne of heaven to the depths of fire??
[A slight twinge to his smile - a fondness, briefly, that softens at his eyes.]
I've walked through hell and back for far less than a spirit as bright as yours.
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But it isn't enough. Who is to blame for drawing the gun and pressing the barrel squarely to Solomon's temple? Akira doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.
He loads a bullet into the chamber.]
...And what would you do for me? Anything I asked?
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"A demon would swallow you whole like this, Akira."
His pulse races in his chest. It's delicate, delicate, to feel out one that might not be themselves anymore.]
If Akira asks me genuinely, I will always have an answer. Even if my answer is not one he likes.
[But only for Akira. Not for whatever, whoever, this passenger of his is.]
But he must ask. Not threaten. He is not a beast, and I am not a god.
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The hand wrapped around his gun trembles. His knuckles blanch white. His hand tenses, loosens, and tenses again. The conflict within Akira plays itself out in the downturn of his eyes, eyes that squeeze tightly shut, eyes that fight to seek out Solomon's warm brassy gaze and linger there.
Eventually, his lips part to speak. Every word is some heavy, leaden thing, and just as painful to push out.]
...I want you to kill me.
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I politely decline.
[It's his own turn for venom.]
If you want him dead so badly, then come out and do it yourself. Or are you enjoying the temporary safety he brings you?
[His incantation is barely a whisper, but the energy that pulses from his wand beckons like a lure, an echo against Akira's bones. Here, here, lies temptation, it screams - the closest he can manage to his demonic ties in his current state, a dangerous and desperate move.]
Maybe I should rip you out and see what lords you beg to?
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A side of Solomon that he's never seen. One full of venom and vim, his anger genuine. A sight like this would have dazzled Akira speechless before, but now? Right now? Staring into those razor-sharp eyes hurts. Aches like an open wound. Maybe, just maybe, whatever lurks within him hears those threats for what they are.
Half-formed breaths stutter and stick in Akira's throat. He's trying hard, so very hard, to fight this thing deep into the recesses of his soul where he can chain it down, lock it up, imprison it until its ego breaks and it knows no difference between its own will and Akira's. That's how this goes, taking a demon or a Shadow and turning it onto a Persona. That's how it always worked. Luck was always on Akira's side. Now, however—]
Solomon—!
[It's Akira that pleads, his grip on the gun loose. If Solomon wants to take a chance at disarming him, now would be the time to try.]
You care about the good of humanity, don't you? If I can't get rid of this thing, if I can't take control—
[For the good of everyone else, someone will have to put him down.]
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[Akira will get a jolt of electricity to the ribs as Solomon's free hand shoots up to grab for the gun and yank it downwards (11).]
1/???
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Pasiap's swinging jewels what the fuck was that—
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¡¿Qué carajo?!
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By the Twelve! Was that a gunshot...?!
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And in the new fur rug he just bought.
Everyone might just hear what comes next.
It sounds like the shriek that the upper limit of what a human's vocal chords can make, but only just barely, delving more into something an owl or a fox might make. And most humans shriek out of terror, but this? This one is pure rage.]
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And back down on floor one, there's the loud sound of a window shattering from the now, notably Mika-less room that just so happens to neighbor Akira's. )
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done
Christ. Akira will need to apologize for that later, but after shouting a half-assed sorry, Akira temporarily stuffs up that hole with magic and stumbles back, falling to his knees. He'll fix that hole for real later, prommie.]
...Whew.
[Maybe that was what he needed. The heavy fog that had settled over him all day seems to have lifted, the oppressive weight on his shoulders gone. Is that it? Did the collective shock of getting zapped and throwing Day into a panic chase whatever spirit is possessing him out? Akira can only hope.]
Hey. Just... hold onto that gun for now, okay? Just in case.
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Akira will be shoved backwards with a knee to the chin, prone onto his back. Another sharp incantation has Solomon's magic stirring under the press of the floor, hot and dark and aimless - an attempt at drawing a seal that he still can't quite manage, but that bubbles up from him on reflex alone under a cold, icy chant, under eyes that sharpen with an almost arrogant stature - a look so cross, so unwilling to be challenged, that he looks almost inhuman.]
"Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! May the shackles of unwanted hold within the person before me be eliminated. May they come forward and show their name plainly.
Heed me, lest I bind thee, and rob thee of thy freedom."
[It's a tugging, like someone trying to grab into the realm of the unreal and yank something forcefully to the surface by the roots. But it's a spell demanding power that Solomon no longer has within his disposal, and though he's sweating with the effort, nothing emerges.
Get away. Know your place. He will not be threatened like this. Never by them.]
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Arrested by the look in Solomon's eyes, Akira remains frozen in place where he's ragdolled on the floor. What is this taste on his tongue...? Akira smacks his lips once, twice. Demons? Is this what demons taste like? And for that matter, why is he tasting anything at all while Solomon is working his black magic on him? He feels chills run up and down his spine, fire and brimstone crackling in his sinuses. Can we be certain Solomon isn't a demon himself?]
Uh...
[Solomon is so cool, but Akira doesn't have the heart to tell him that he feels no different now than he did before he was rudely kicked in the face and knocked to the floor. He just feels sore.]
Amen. Can I get up now?
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His nod is shallow as he holds a hand out to help him up, hesitant in letting his relief show through.]
Here. Let me see your face for a moment.
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[Akira asks warily, but he takes Solomon's hand without hesitation. He's wobbly on the way up, bracing himself on Solomon's forearms.]
Hey. Before you say anything, I'm sorry. [He'll be even more sorry when he realizes just how many floors that magic bullet passed through.] I... really don't know what came over me.
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...Day senses that investigating downstairs now would be inopportune, in the way someone so intrinsically tied to fate knows everything has a time and place, but he'll remember this. (What the fuck is going on down there.) ]