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. )
[ Two doors down from the Danger Zone, one can hear what sounds like a loud thump and a whack, which can be most likely assumed to be the sound of someone rolling straight out of bed onto the unforgiving floor.
[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.
[His own stance wobbles a little as Akira's weight braces against him. But he stays still, letting Akira speak his peace with Solomon's full attention.]
You don't need to apologize.
Hold still for a minute.
[One of Akira's hands is moved up to Solomon's shoulder, if he needs it, so that the sorcerer can cup his fingers against Akira's chin and throat with a whisper. It's not potent healing, especially after how much effort he just poured out of himself for something that didn't even work. But it should, at least, dull the pain.]
[...Akira doesn't resist Solomon's gentle touch. His fingers are a warm comfort against his skin, his healing magic dulling the ache to something negligible and easy to ignore. Only now does he realize how starved for warmth he's been since returning from the mission. That creature, whatever it was, chilled him from the inside out. His skin is still noticeably cold beneath Solomon's fingers.]
Everything, as far as I can tell. We were taken to the castle to do a little ghostbusting. In the final stretch, I started feeling weird... like a blizzard swept straight through me.
[He still doesn't feel quite right, but Akira leaves that detail out. He's worried Solomon enough as it is.]
Maybe something attached itself to me at that time. I don't know.
I think that would be a good guess, unless we get more evidence to something otherwise. You haven't quite been yourself since you came home.
[The commotion from various parts of the house is starting to echo, but Solomon pays it only a glance of attention. Akira will feel Solomon's magic stretch out again from the pit of his neck into the depths of his chest - looking, just as it did before, and still unable to see a change. Was it there? Was it gone? It tenses his jaw with frustration, to have so little control here in the realm of what he knows.]
If it's still here... it's not somewhere I can sense.
...
[God, but his skin's so frigid... Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his irritation, Solomon shrugs off his jacket to throw it over Akira's shoulders, blowing on his own palms before cupping them against Akira's face more intentionally.]
I'll hold onto your gun. Do you have any other weapons on you?
[You know, he's not entirely opposed to feeling Solomon move inside of him, but this is not quite now Akira envisioned it. There's no point in telling the man to get out when he's searching him for his own sake. He'd rather know that the thing inside of him has evacuated than leave things up to chance.]
...I can't sense it either. Maybe that's a good sign.
[He can only hope.
Solomon's warmth feels nice against his skin. He closes his eyes to soak it in, to imagine locking that heat within himself in the hopes it won't ever leave. Maybe it'd chase this damn chill off. Maybe all he needs is to submerge himself in warmth long enough for the feeling to pass.
No sooner does Akira think that that his legs give out from beneath him, the strain on his body following a challenging mission finally catching up to him. He's tired, so very tired.]
...Sorry. My dagger... My dagger's on my desk. That's— all the weapons I have.
[There's a quiet exclamation at the sudden drop of weight, Solomon scrambling to wrap his arms tightly under Akira's with firm grips to the back of his shirt, an effort on reflex keep him from completely decking out on the floor again.]
Easy, easy does it-- Have my dancing lessons finally caught up to your legs? Maybe I should apologize to you instead. [It's a silly aside, but he lets it have its place, looking over towards Akira's desk long enough to note where he needs to make sure to check before he leaves.]
Let's get you somewhere a little less cold than the floor. [He repositions his arms, before pausing and thinking further on it.] ...May I pick you up?
[Aside from the obvious, what is wrong with him? Strength hemorrhages from Akira's body and he's left to the mercy of Solomon's arms, that dreadful cold licking at his limbs and creeping up his spine. It's hard to remember the last time he felt this pathetic, this weak. It was probably when he'd gotten arrested, left to sit alone in a holding cell with nothing but his own racing thoughts.
At least now he has someone to lean on, but he feels guilty putting this much of a burden on Solomon. A bit reluctantly, Akira answers.]
...Yeah. Go ahead.
[Sorry, Solomon. He'll make this up to you somehow.]
[Ah, the fight really had drained out of him, hadn't it? He doesn't comment on it, but seeing Akira snuffed out of his usual spark doesn't give him much to feel at ease about.
With careful hands, Solomon adjusts Akira's limbs, propping him up against one of his forearms while the other hooks under his knees.]
Just stay relaxed against me... up we go.
[It's a good thing Akira's such a string bean. Solomon isn't a physical man, and not one who would be able to do this sort of work for a long period of time. But to princess carry an unwell soul to the comfort of their bed? That wouldn't be a problem in the slightest.
Akira is held tightly against him as he steps his way through the mess on the floor. There is probably still commotion from the gunshot but, eh, he's got other things to do.]
If you need to sleep, then sleep. Save your strength.
[He squeezes Akira's shoulder to emphasize it. God, but he's still so cold...]
[ 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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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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Followed by a muffled, pained-]
Son of a bitch-
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He also hears ominous chanting by solomon and decides on the spot he will simply let the other northie deal with it while he lays low. ganba grandpa.]
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Then he will head back to bed and plop back down for sleep.
He will go back to dreaming happily of the reunion between friends. So nice...
...Hopefully everyone else can go back to sleep after such a terrible sound? Floor 2 really is home to strange things all the time. ]
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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You don't need to apologize.
Hold still for a minute.
[One of Akira's hands is moved up to Solomon's shoulder, if he needs it, so that the sorcerer can cup his fingers against Akira's chin and throat with a whisper. It's not potent healing, especially after how much effort he just poured out of himself for something that didn't even work. But it should, at least, dull the pain.]
...How much do you remember?
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Everything, as far as I can tell. We were taken to the castle to do a little ghostbusting. In the final stretch, I started feeling weird... like a blizzard swept straight through me.
[He still doesn't feel quite right, but Akira leaves that detail out. He's worried Solomon enough as it is.]
Maybe something attached itself to me at that time. I don't know.
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[The commotion from various parts of the house is starting to echo, but Solomon pays it only a glance of attention. Akira will feel Solomon's magic stretch out again from the pit of his neck into the depths of his chest - looking, just as it did before, and still unable to see a change. Was it there? Was it gone? It tenses his jaw with frustration, to have so little control here in the realm of what he knows.]
If it's still here... it's not somewhere I can sense.
...
[God, but his skin's so frigid... Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his irritation, Solomon shrugs off his jacket to throw it over Akira's shoulders, blowing on his own palms before cupping them against Akira's face more intentionally.]
I'll hold onto your gun. Do you have any other weapons on you?
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...I can't sense it either. Maybe that's a good sign.
[He can only hope.
Solomon's warmth feels nice against his skin. He closes his eyes to soak it in, to imagine locking that heat within himself in the hopes it won't ever leave. Maybe it'd chase this damn chill off. Maybe all he needs is to submerge himself in warmth long enough for the feeling to pass.
No sooner does Akira think that that his legs give out from beneath him, the strain on his body following a challenging mission finally catching up to him. He's tired, so very tired.]
...Sorry. My dagger... My dagger's on my desk. That's— all the weapons I have.
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Easy, easy does it-- Have my dancing lessons finally caught up to your legs? Maybe I should apologize to you instead. [It's a silly aside, but he lets it have its place, looking over towards Akira's desk long enough to note where he needs to make sure to check before he leaves.]
Let's get you somewhere a little less cold than the floor. [He repositions his arms, before pausing and thinking further on it.] ...May I pick you up?
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[Aside from the obvious, what is wrong with him? Strength hemorrhages from Akira's body and he's left to the mercy of Solomon's arms, that dreadful cold licking at his limbs and creeping up his spine. It's hard to remember the last time he felt this pathetic, this weak. It was probably when he'd gotten arrested, left to sit alone in a holding cell with nothing but his own racing thoughts.
At least now he has someone to lean on, but he feels guilty putting this much of a burden on Solomon. A bit reluctantly, Akira answers.]
...Yeah. Go ahead.
[Sorry, Solomon. He'll make this up to you somehow.]
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With careful hands, Solomon adjusts Akira's limbs, propping him up against one of his forearms while the other hooks under his knees.]
Just stay relaxed against me... up we go.
[It's a good thing Akira's such a string bean. Solomon isn't a physical man, and not one who would be able to do this sort of work for a long period of time. But to princess carry an unwell soul to the comfort of their bed? That wouldn't be a problem in the slightest.
Akira is held tightly against him as he steps his way through the mess on the floor. There is probably still commotion from the gunshot but, eh, he's got other things to do.]
If you need to sleep, then sleep. Save your strength.
[He squeezes Akira's shoulder to emphasize it. God, but he's still so cold...]
You're sure you're okay? I can go wake the Sage.
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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.) ]