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He should have known he'd see her again. She wasn't an unwelcome sight, but Ransomite was not entirely certain he wouldn't be. The cheer in her tone made him smile despite himself, despite his mood, and he turned to meet her cheer with a wave. It was subdued, but he was wary. Had she noticed? His uniform had not changed much.

The hemline on his coat was a modest bit longer. The tree buttons on his vest were a darker shade of green, but it was hard to see in this light. There was more piping, he guessed. And his weapons were metal and sharp now, but otherwise unchanged.

Captain Ransomite tried not to draw too much attention to these things but found himself wondering about them anyway. "And how did googling Jesus go?" His tone was warm, friendly.

There was a restlessness, a disquiet in the back of his mind, as she came closer, but he shoved it away.

He watched her thumb over the notebook, his sigh purely internal. "For what it's worth, you would be, if that's what you wanted." The irony of the situation was not lost on Ransomite. "I know I'm a priest and all," for what little that vow was worth, at this point, "and that a lot of the priesthood is..." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking briefly up to the sky. "Complicated. There is a lot of preaching politics from the pulpit where we shouldn't."

Ransomite's memory flashed briefly to nights spent on debate with fellow priests. How there were so many things that were never actually spoken on, how there were so many assumptions, that yes, the Word of God was infallible, but the work of man was specifically not. There had been entire months-long arguments on what it meant to take the Lord's name in vain.

His opinion had always that it should never be used to justify cruelty, that it defeated the entire purpose of the covenant of Jesus Christ. So how did he justify the theft of energy, of souls? The latter, he had never personally done. But the former? 'Do not plot harm against your neighbour, who lives trustfully near you'.

He had done plenty of that.

'For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come--'

That, too.

"But confession is specifically for that purpose, if that were something you were interested in."

Ransomite had not expected to observe a confession. Well, they'd already greeted each other, so he would move past the greeting part. He gave the sign of the cross anyway, since it didn't require him to actually say anything, and shook his head gently when she asked if he'd been at the bank. He'd heard about it through the grapevine, but hadn't been part of that particular operation. He tried to keep himself out of most of the operations these days, but that wasn't going to really be an option anymore now that he was a Captain. Even Infiltration had to actually do things.

Like Faustite had said, Ransomite could start a team now, if he wanted. The idea of having a youma was one Ransomite was unsure of, though. Much like he was unsure about everything else. How he had managed to get to the point of being recommended for promotion was, frankly, probably mostly an accident.

'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was--'

Too long ago.

He always chose the same priest. Easier to keep things under wraps that way. But that meant he was beholden to the schedule of when Father Douglas was on confession duty.

When she looked at him, he made sure to meet her eyes. He wasn't sure what kind of penance would be warranted for someone corrupting someone else's soul. But, then again, she had, herself, purified and in doing so lost significant parts of her identity and her entire life. Maybe that was penance enough. What could he possibly order that would make more of an impact that what she had already gone through?

His mind flashed back to her reaction to him using 'Sylvite'.

"She is alive and well now, I assume." he offered. Her tone didn't indicate Cybele had died or corrupted.

A Princess! Now that he thought about it, Ransomite could remember some talk about it. He snorted quietly. "I would say congratulations, but." He gestured at himself with a weary sigh. What good was congratulations when they were categorically enemies? A pause, a slight detour from himself as Father Isaac. "I had to have Faustite's hand in my chest for this. It was..." A frown. He still wasn't sure how to communicate the experience.

He hadn't died? It had hurt like a b***h, but he hadn't died.

"Wouldn't recommend it."

Back to Father Isaac.

"Does she know you've purified out?" Maybe that would help him advise a penance for her.

Ransomite's eyebrows rose. Well, she had also been punched in the face. Again, he was at a loss of what kind of penance he could order for her. But if that was the last time they'd talked... He had no interest in trying, indirectly, to put Cybele in a position where Nectaris had to talk to her to make amends. Not if Cybele wasn't interested in talking.

He was pretty sure he also would not want to talk to someone who had tried to kill him.

So what to do when the only person in a position to forgive you has no interest--or obligation--toward talking? "You should try again, start slowly, send her a message with no expectation of reply asking to talk and see what she wants from you." A thoughtful pause. "If Cybele isn't amenable, then work to undo the influence of chaos. Help people purify. Help people want to purify."

Ironic, that.

"It gives her the option, at least, with no pressure for reply," came his mild response as he nodded along to her saying she could try. There was a pause in his nodding, though, a pause in his general movement as she asked about him.

Ransomite supposed that was the kicker, wasn't it? What about him, indeed. No, he didn't like a lot of what the Negaverse was doing. He was finding more and more evidence that no one had just spontaneously awakened as a Negaverse agent. With all the talk of corruption and purification, it had been a point for him to do some digging. Nothing extreme.

For all the talk of 'protecting the earth from alien invaders', he couldn't find anything that proved the Negaverse weren't also potential 'alien invaders' by the same logic used against order. For that matter, given all the trouble the Negaverse went through to recruit members--on penalty of death or outright corruption if refused--Ransomite was finding it extra hard to keep pretending that he was acting in the greater good. On the most generous reading, what made them different from Crusaders in the middle ages? Convert or be forced anyway, if you're not killed outright?

And given the amount of times Chaos fashioned themselves the aggressors, to the point of enlisting the help of literal actual aliens to help them corrupt senshi en masse... Well, it seemed hypocritical at best, outright malevolent at worst to act like the Negaverse had any significant moral high ground as a group. Maybe there were good chaos followers, but given that anyone that tried to leave the Negaverse was hunted down and murdered, it was starting to seem an awful like good chaos people either left or died...

Not to mention he had yet to hear of anyone on Order-side being able to force a purification the way Chaos could force a corruption.

And no one on Order-side could rip out a person's literal soul and consume it for fuel the way he had seen people in the Negaverse do. Even those that did not eat them still ripped them away from the still-warm bodies of other people--often uninvolved civilians--and offered them up to Metallia as sacrifice. Given the holes he'd seen in the foreheads and chests of chaos senshi, Ransomite was well on his way to believing that the metaphors were a bit too on-the-nose for him to keep pretending he was serving any kind of worthy purpose as a Negaverse agent.

Which brought him back to her suggestion with a start, a suggestion he realised he'd just left hanging in the air as his brain wandered around. He cleared his throat subtly. "I guess so, but I just promoted." He could still remember the sensation of it with a shudder of mixed emotion--trepidation from himself, anticipation from the louder whispers of Chaos in the back of his mind. Ransomite wasn't sure when the topic had switched from her confession to his asking for advice, but he ventured, "any ideas?"

...Did he want her to talk to Cybele? Well, yes, but as far as what she should say when she did...

He hadn't thought this far. He was supposed to be taking her confession. But she'd mentioned him doing penance, and he'd gotten himself sidetracked from there-- He offered a quiet, chagrined chuckle. "I was getting off-topic. I'm sorry." Talk to Cybele? Maybe, but that wasn't what they were there for.

"Your mentioning of 'coming home' just struck something in me, is all."

How many months had it been, now?

Anyway.

But his mind wouldn't let it go. Did he want out? There was potentially a way, if Princess Cybele was willing to help him, if Nectaris was willing to put a word in for him. Would he be able to make it out? 'Beams of light, then screaming, then nothing--' Would he be able to get out before his superiors realised what was happening and killed him? Granted, here he stood before someone who used to--a lifetime ago and away--be one of them.

Anyway.

"If you have other sins to confess, you may confess them. If you've no other sins to confess, then you pray a prayer of contrition." A pause. "You say 'sorry' to God, essentially."

...Oh, he had a lot to apologize to God for...

Maybe he should talk to Cybele--