Welcome to Gaia! ::

The soil was damp from condensation the cool night air a nice contrast to the still too warm days that throttled the cusp of summer and fall. Clouds covered fragments of the sky, a portent to the season's change as faintly satellites glittered here and there in the inky blackness, stars swallowed with light pollution.
Castor rather disliked it, not being able to see the stars on Earth. He'd grown fond, spoiled even with a non-obscured sight of the vastness of space on his homeworld. On earth, the small comfort was not there, and it rankled him to be reminded how vastly out of place it felt.

Flexing his back, he wondered perhaps if tonight he might as well lure out some one to combat. His ire could serve as fuel for a fight, and if anything, it would certainly remove a fair deal of stress. With the vacation season ending, so did His and Marlo's busier days, meaning soon he'd have to patrol more with the free hours. That, or learn how to be a good father. He'd prefer parenting but-

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a faint trickle of power just out of his peripherals. He flexed his shoulders again, waiting by the place he was known to frequent. Perhaps someone of the old guard, come to extract their 'vengeance', or someone unlucky enough to find the one spot the royal was bound to wander by. He stood by the bench, waiting. He was itching for a fight, but, he'd rather they come out and face him rather than slink by in shadows.

Hands ready to make the motions to summon his magic, Castor allowed himself to relax when the one who'd been near came forward to his sight. Faustite was ever a strange one, and while certainly dangerous, he struck Castor as more inquisitive than anything.

"You're certainly look a bit more lively than last we met." Not by much, but the smoke every leaving the man's body cavity was certainly as thick and hazy as ever. He seems perhaps, more confident? Yes. Confident enough to approach. Granted Castor had given his word, but he did expect to be betrayed. A pleasant enough surprise that it was just the agent, and none of his kin or kind.

"And-" He debated about the merit of answering honestly. "-In a fashion. I tend to dwell to harshly on my past mistakes, and thinking how I might correct myself and actions in the future. For example, not running into the rift after a bunch of idiots and thinking I might challenge a senshi who knew be better than I'd like to admit. Next time, I'll go with less company so I won't need to worry over them being slaughtered for their own stupidity."
He smiled, in spite of the morbid and caustic nature of his jest.

"But if you're here, I take it you've got.. questions. Or, you're here to kill me. That's a burden I can understand far too well. But, I could be wrong." He leaned against the stone pottery that housed the plants, not caring the way his wings rested in the dirt.
"So, enlighten me of your burdens, and perhaps I'll help relieve you of them."

The night wind was kind to him, moving his feathers in silence, allowing him to hide the uneasy shifts he made as Faustite moved. They were not allied nor friends, but they were not quick to confront. Still the measure of wary warning hung between them, a cloying bitter sweet thing that threatened to choke them of their words and strange them with based fear of a threat known.

To fight his own hubris and his own fear- that was the battle they faced when looking to one another. The conflict Castor had as he thought how to kill a man who was not even half a man anymore.

"I cannot say it was a worthy loss. A fool's gambit will reap a fool's reward. As for killing me, I will... entertain that once more." A sly smile, there was no untruth. Trust was given in measure, not in full. It couldn't be. Not when the ghosts of his past lingered so near, when the evidence of his past were feet away.

The way Faustite spoke was different, and Castor eyed him. The story bode ill. Yet, he couldn't say it was entirely something he could offer sympathy for. His ally in Remarque was his own, and he thought less harsh of those trapped within the hold of the mirror.
"What family do you speak of? Your mortal, human one, or those you have claim and found? There is merit in the difference. Yet, I suppose you come to me, asking how to handle this farce of justice, seeking revenge. That is your intent isn't it?"

Blue eyes gazed to the man before him.
"Revenge is a task made of an act taken against one's self. Vengeance is it's dressed up kin, a false justice with a false name. Remarque has no reason to punish their kind- nevermind, he is no more their king than I am of the senshi who remain in the service of Order. He is a royal, and is only given what sovereignty over the dark mirror as they grant him. Which is not much. You face not opposition from the royal, but from your own superiors. They seek an alliance that rides on both sides agreeing to do no harm, but we both know the truths of such."

Castor motioned to the bench.
"For all their talk of mercy, neither side affords it. You ask what I would do, what I would chose. A fruitless question to which I think you knew my answer before you arrived. You only wished to hear it."

The smile was cruel, the grin of man who held no qualms over killing or the reasons why provided they had reason.
"I would hunt the one who harmed me and mine and make an example of them. I would make them suffer and live for a time in agony. Yet, I would not be such a fool to be so open and keen on my plans." The royal huffed.

"Really. You want to kill this senshi- yet one asks why. Why did this cycle of death begin? And how will you seek to end it. Death is a finality, and what we do cannot be undone. What will this Sinope's death bring you Faustite? What glory will his blood give you when you emerge victorious upon your battlefeild?"

His lips parted in a small amused huff, corners twitched upright for a moment. Despite it all, speaking to someone who thought deeply of his own self was pleasant. Castor often didn't wax poetical on many, but he did dwell on issues other might cast aside. He thought too deeply to his own mortality, his own future and fate beyond his human host.

"So, they killed your true blood relatives. And from you want of revenge, you had a good relationship. My condolences, its often harder to lose those you cannot replace and who have been with you since conception." He could only bow his held in solemn acquiesce. There was little more to say of the dead, and Castor would not speak ill or draw the ire of those that mourned them. He had not known them, so he could not merit a judgement. Even so, innocents lost in the war were always just that, innocent and ignorant of what occurred in shadows.

"And- yes. The prince of the mirror is mostly impotent. But, so am I among the order bound. He has those loyal to him, but they do so out of respect and deference. He wished to lead them. A point of contrast between us. My guess as to why the negaverse maintain their alliance is to pacify those of the mirror, though truthfully, it is a farce. there will come a time when blood will be demanded, and both sides my reconcile to who they allied with and for what ends." Castor reached out, hestating to place a hand on the agent's shoulder.

"I cannot say i completely understand your angry and frustration, but from the view of a royal who watches both the mirror senshi and Metallia's agents, I see how weak the bonds holding you all together are. There is no love held between you. And the lie that such a bond is to be strong and respected is a disservice in the face of your loss." And like that, Castor pulled away, uncertain the touch had offered any comfort or only served to infuriate the agent more.

"..." Hearing the events that led to Faustite's tragedy, the royal hummed, nodding his head to show his attention. It was certainly not a matter of half attempts, that was for sure.
"You officers never go half way into something do you?" He mused, tilting his head.

Castor didn't like what was being asked, however, he had offered to help the agent- he'd just not expected it to be in this manner. Killing a mirror senshi would gain him a hefty amount of ire from both Leto and Remarque, not to mention further the idea he was some blood lusting tyrant. There were options to be sure, but castor was not keen to all of them.
"You're asking something that is... more than a little bit difficult. Killing this senshi is not exactly in my best interest you understand. For several reasons. However, I can understand the need for your hate to be given release and be left in the past. Forgiveness is supposedly healthy, but as you said, a message must be given, a bar and standard set. What Prince Remaque does in his court is his business, and your superiors have told you to stop hunting this Sinope. So why bother with them?"

Castor, much to his own reluctance, gave the advice he would have if this were a matter of state, long ago.
"Kill those he considers his own. Use tools to complete the job, stripping yourself of complicity in the crimes. Guns are cheap Faustite." A warning was there in his words, "But they also can be tracked. You are in a battle with a coward, so you cannot use honorable methods and expect them to work. You ask me to bloody my hands, yet do not ask what other tools I have at my disposal. What other routes one might take. Have you considered setting another up to be made to suffer? To be seen as having harmed you without cause, to be labeled criminal and you victim? Your options are more varied than just killing one who's death would most certainly be placed upon you. You wish to make a statement, make a statement Faustite."

His face impassive, the senshi of hail leaned back, arms crossed.
"How would you send your message if I were the one to cut them down? What threat is that? Do not send a messenger when it you who wishes to speak the words yourself."

The way he said it made Castor bristle. Not because he said it, or that he thought it, but that he believed in it. The distinction that he was somehow beyond being a person. That he'd already gone too far to have anything that was him left leaving behind only a shell for a youma to house in.
"And you're not a person then? Not worth living or having free will? Careful what you claim Faustite. Remember, for now, I see you as an agent. Renounce that entirely, and I will treat you with what that entails."

Bristling, he cracked his neck, and wished the cold would come sooner. He missed feeling in his element, even if barely clothed when in his royal regalia. But now, he stood, uncomfortable, and less from the weather and more what was proposed to him.
Murder for the sake of murder was one thing, revenge another, but because it was asked of him and not a thing required was... off putting.

"You want power." The words came easy. "You want power and death so you can better protect yourself. Because when you were not there, not strong enough, you lost that which you cared about, and you never want to feel that again." He paused.
"Is that why you so willing skirt death with the youma inside you? To escape the depth of your feelings?"

He had run from his own emotions once- and it had cost him more than he cared to think of.
"They say hate is not the opposite of love but indifference. Yet you care. You care too much by my guess, because even after those you love are dead and gone, you cry out in the void they left behind, seeking a way to fill it."

Castor wasn't sure what comfort he could offer but, he would try.
"Try to tell me Kholat. Tell me why the pain refuses to leave, even when you know very well more blood will not make it stop. Tell me what you wish to have known."

He watched the agent's emotions dance like actors on a stage, moving with a fluidity of motion and then becoming hardened with a rigidity when forced to go by a script.

"You claim the message sent is one of ineffectiveness. But... I do not see than in you Kholat." His tone was softer, and his face betrayed himself. A look of mourning, of pained understanding. "I see humanity in you. The struggle of reconciling your actions and limitations with wants and needs. Chains we accept that bind us and tighten when we fight to be free of them. I see a young man, mourning, in pain, afraid that in being limited, he will face pain once more."

Castor blinked.

"I speak with Kholat- knight of yore, and Faustite, agent of Chaos, not because I think I might coax you to purify as your superiors might have you think. Not because I feel your trust in me would be of benefit- But because I see in you your humanity still. I see pain, and despite many things, I am in the end, a man who cares too easily for others, and would ease it if I am able."

Wings folded, he lessened his power, his eternal form a contrast to the great winged visage of a royal. A hand ran over the bench and he lingered on it in silence.

"I cannot kill for you Faustite, because of many reasons. But most of all, because I think if I did so you would resent it. You would resent not doing it yourself. Resent having to rely and use another. Asking me bites at your pride I assume, as does this... analysis I present. But this is who and what I am. Part of my duty is to try and understand and offer guidance. I think that if you are told you are not worth the effort put in you."

Cold eyes looked to the half-youma.
"Then they are more the fools for wasting you on things unsuited to your skills. A good leader and commander puts their soldiers where they are most effective. You have met with me, clandestine and no worse for it. You have gained my ear in a short time, kept me still with words, and made me consider you. Subterfuge. You feed me enough to hope for you humanity. A thing that is mine and genuine. Your powers are clearly developed and you have adapted well to them to retain function and higher rationality. Commanders who would make their soldiers wonder if their lives have value are weak."

He sighed. "Your life has value- it is not your fault that they cannot see this nor use it effectively. What value you give yourself is another matter entirely. Clearly, enough to not risk killing Sinope and courting a promised demise."

"Is it a cage?" Castor asked, wondering how this agent of chaos, this harbringer of demise and decay in this world thought of himself, to see what had made him who he was over his lifetime nothing more than chains. "Or is that what you tell yourself as your mind and body fight at war with the youma who would consume you and become you?" He felt like it was a pointless question to ask, not because he assumed he knew the answer, but the fact Faustite had said as much signaled he had long made up his mind on his own morality and humanity, even if it was nothing but remnants.

"As for reading people- no. Not entirely. Sometimes I am wrong. In that I might be given a betting insight. Sometimes I guess and let those I look at and speak with to give me an answer I could not otherwise ask. Leadership, memories- they are my burden and my curse, but they also are my strength. Though the senshi are made of idealistic fools and children who would rather pretend and play at hero than face the cost this war will bring, there are those who understand it is what we do and what we are. My past is nothing but a footnote in the history of the cosmos, yet with it, I know how I can fight for something better, something more. Reckless, ignorant, and foolish they who call themselves white moon may be, but I can give them something many will never know. An offering to learn of the past, the knowledge that seeing one's own death might give. At times, I wonder how easily I could forget. How... alarmingly sweet it would be to accept the darkness inside me, allow it to take root and grant me the fortitude and power I need to restore what I lost."

He smirked.
"I could give up these memories, these wounds of my heart and soul up for a renewal. A rebirth. I could cast all that suffering away- but it would cheapen my actions. Power gained through ignorance will serve no real purpose but one's own destruction, and though the call of chaos, the sweet lure it presents floats in front of me with the faces of past friends and lovers, I will not yeild or sacrifice these wounds and scars. They are mine. I earned my knowledge, my power. I will fight to rip back what was taken, to gain what I lost." The senshi shrugged moving away from his bench.

"Yet you want to lose yourself to the youma inside you, cast your soul into the abyss to escape a world that has betrayed you and would discard you. I- cannot grasp such a thing. Giving up yourself to another cause that has no care for who you are. Your past, your history- you earned those things, they have given you a shape and a means to learn and better yourself. You say humanity is your cage, but is it also not what make you Faustite and Kohlat? Both are you, not entirely. Yet they, no matter how you might resent or mourn who and what they are- you have the power to use them to be you. Humanity gives us what nothing else might offer- an identity in the face of the abyss of the cosmos and it's endless cycle of our souls."

A bitter deep throat laugh left him at the mention of morals. Was there ever a time for them? No, not really. In war you had to act first think later more than not, and those afforded the luxury to plan and scheme only did so with the intention to escalate.

"Personally, I think you have it backwards. Metallia needs you and others like you to keep her alive. Without agents locked to her, the only thing she can offer is a stolen power and the false promise of a future you create. All leaders need their loyal ardent followers, else they're nothing more than figureheads. Even Serenity has no more power than what the senshi give her. But then, she's dead and gone." He have a passive shrug.

She'd given him hope once upon a time, but when he'd called out to her she'd been silent. He'd devoted himself to her, her kingdom, all to find she'd never been his princess, never been one worthy of his life and a death. He never blamed Asrtaea for it, after all, she'd only wanted to see her princess, and senshi like him were her only connection, however vague.

"You can want- and you should. Desires that are complex help us know ourselves better. As for your general- That's invasive. On more than one level." He cringed at the idea of it. "But, my offer will always stand. I'll listen and offer some help where I can. Just this time- I can't kill for you. Not in a way that would bring you peace."