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 Posted: Mon Mar 11, 2019 8:48 pm
In the dim of Negaspace, Faustite sat poorly with wait times. The call sent, lure cast, ey need only wait for reciprocations to filter in over a week, two weeks, all while standard duties received their due. But the idleness ate at em — too similar it was to sitting perfectly still, to keeping both hands prim and restful in lap during lecture or keeping still as Schörl forced a starseed into em. What a passive choice. What a half measure.
Faustite chose against that idleness. A swift choice brought the Database to eir tablet fore, where names organized by branch and rank and alphabet promised storied stories a blue line away. One touch with a nailed finger raveled out every secret the Negaverse cared to divulge of its agent's personal accomplishments, personal failures. A few added search functions sorted by number of subordinates or personal youma bonds, top starseed quotas, lowest energy outputs in the last week month year to all time. Data data data enough to screw eir head on wrong — to obfuscate the truer tells to a man's character. Look at all the nothing they measured.
In that listed list, collated into personal youma ownership, into subordinate had and lost, record blemished, was a name familiar. Faustite recalled little beyond impressions — a stymied operation, a bored voice sounding inconvenienced by calling for help, a lack of orders given to oganize their prized hierarchy into effective counterinsurgency.
How highly he must think of himself. How well-to-do after that failure of an operation. How curious, then, that his file noted genuine remorsefulness and a lesson learnt when this general sounded so flippant toward senshi engagement. What hubris. What waste.
What intrigue. Tablet snapped shut, the names written to a fresh legal pad with lines of space allocated for ready notes. Faustite held the starseed-microphone close to mouth as ey stated eir summons to the empty, gaping office: "General Benitoite, a word." Faustite waited first for some sign of response, a grunted acquiescence.
"I've been looking for someone like you. Someone who knows youma in ways most don't. Someone who understands their tragedy. For that, your file tells one very. interesting. story.
"Talk to me, General, about Bazzite." Ey smiled.
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Posted: Mon Mar 11, 2019 9:14 pm
He had been somewhat busy, and by somewhat it was really that he was toiling about in his office. It wasn't paperwork but rather a plant he'd bought, special for this location, and had decided to try and keep the youma away from. He'd thought that crushing some black crystals into the soil, and mixing them in well, might help with that. So far no youma had tried to attack his plant - how nice of them.
He wasn't expecting a call as he sat reading, a book not some file, a call from someone he was sure he didn't know. It was a voice he couldn't recall but they were calling - so he answered.
"Bazzite?" Not a name he'd heard in awhile, and one he was't sure he wanted to hear, it brought a lot of memories and feelings with it. He had to keep those things to himself though, for so many reasons.
Setting his book down, the page marked, he tilted his head a bit though no one was around to see. "What do you want to know and why are you curious about my connection to youma?" and Bazzite.
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Posted: Tue Mar 12, 2019 1:36 am
The questions were warranted, the general's neglect to ask for identification a curiosity. Faustite cocked a brow. "My name is Faustite. I'm organizing a seminar on youma. Collating resources and awareness found lacking in our training manuals, awareness our rank and file sorely needs. No better teacher than you for how men make monsters out of each other. For how that changes relationships, bonds, expectations. For how youmafying your subordinate — someone who trusts you to death — changes you.
"Your brush with Bazzite — it's years old. Older than my served time, than many others'. The Negaverse neglects our personal histories so effortlessly; gone are the lessons you learned and the context in which you learned them. No one remembers but you or the old guard. Maybe some youma."
Faustite shifted, elbow laid flat against the desk, pen whorled restlessly between fingers. It clacked its meager protests at em until its point found the legal pad. "Before I ask you to speak at the seminar, I want details: the subjectives left conveniently out of your file.
"Tell me about your relationship with Bazzite before youmafication, during, after. Tell me how he changed afterward, if he differed in personality or memory recall or simple preferences with no detail spared. What did you do with him afterward? How did it affect you? Did it change how you look at youma? Why? Tell me everything.
"Especially the not-facts, the parts of a man every agent is ashamed of: his feelings."
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Posted: Tue Mar 12, 2019 9:35 am
A flash of annoyance crossed delicate features, a good thing Fausite wasn't present in his office. Perhaps he was being sensitive, perhaps not, but just the other mentioning that it was someone who trusted him to death...that annoyed him, prodded at him in a way that made him want to needle back at the other. But...that wasn't what he'd do - he was above such things...most of the time anyway.
"A seminar on youma...interesting." Leaning back into his seat, getting comfortable, he pulled one leg up onto his chair. It wasn't because it was more comfortable, it wasn't until he removed his boot, it was to gain a bit of height. Sometimes it was just something he did, in private, he'd never done it in school though he'd always been tempted. It wasn't something he did at dinners with his whole family...but just his parents - yup. It made reaching things a touch easier and so he didn't feel so close to the table. His boots, both of them, were kicked off before one leg was drawn up and under himself now.
"Much of our history, before this currant war, is unknown to us. Most don't care either. We focus on the war now and figure we needn't find out about the past. We're too busy fighting the enemy now - fighting for our lives at times. It makes sense to an extent." But not knowing the original reason for this war...it was neglect on the part of many. But he understood it."Like those histories many don't know that Bazzite was created by me. They simply know he exists and he is mine." Or rather was...damn senshi...and damn that necklace he'd gifted the other. If he'd known...but would he have undone it? Not given him that necklace. Their Queen's words rang in his head now, almost as loud as when she'd first said them. Reminding him that the other had simply wanted to be human again...how could he deny that.
The other wanted to know a lot - too much. He wanted to know his feelings and he wasn't sure he wanted to trust this mostly unknown officer. But he'd give him some information, that was easy enough. "Bazzite wasn't someone I brought into the Negaverse. I believe it was General Queen Tanzanite who did, if I remember correctly." A name that the other no doubt didn't know, she had been missing for long. He was sure she was dead to them - a real loss.
"I didn't care for him at first. Less serious and far more bouncy. He lacked the ability to take things seriously, something I later came to realize wasn't true. He was good at hiding his true feelings in truth; something he'd learned as a civilian to do. However, that is neither here nor there and isn't relevant to what you seek. I took him under my wing, slowly, and tried to train him and keep him alive. There was no point in letting an officer be killed as I figured would be his fate." He had been so sure the other would jump into the deep end of the pool far too soon and be killed, something he was shocked had never happened. He supposed it was in part due to himself being at the others side rather often. It was hard to kill one officer, like Bazzite, when you had a spear wielding officer to contend with first.
"I didn't think him general material...it's not a rank suited for people like Bazzite. But he was loyal...not to the cause so much as to the people. He was the sort that might not want to follow you into a fight, because he was scared of the battle and didn't like to fight, but he would follow because he wanted to keep you safe." It was one thing he'd admired in the other and why he'd wanted to keep him safe - he was an innocent.
"Becoming a youma wiped that all away. There was no fear of a fight - he'd jump right in. He didn't care about killing people, he spoke about it with ease. The emotions he once held were...gone. Replaced with someone who talked of killing and eating starseeds easier than anyone I've dealt with...aside from perhaps General Obsidian." Who he also hadn't seen in a very long time, he wasn't sure what had happened to the other. Not since the hospital incident.
"The change from human to youma is drastic. As for memories...they were lost. He might remember things about others, preferences, incidents, battles...those might be there. But the feelings attached aren't there. The human memories are gone - wiped away. You can tell them something, a past memory, they don't recall it and the feelings they'd once had about it - gone. They'll listen but it's like listening to someone elses life...or worse. People see movies that are sad and feel sad as well. Not in this case." He was hoping with his words, how he made comparisons, that the other would understand just how big of a change it was. How much was lost, and in some ways gained. He did leave out a lot of the answers the other wanted though.
"A person turned into a youma...becomes a youma. The human dies. That's the final conclusion to it. Just as the body changes and is no longer - so too is the person who once inhabited the human body." A shrug from him, unseen as it was, as he tried to keep his tone even and calm. This could be worse, so much worse, he was hoping to avoid it.
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Posted: Tue Mar 12, 2019 9:36 pm
What a preamble, the youth thought as flame eyes flickered down to paper. In eir hand, the pen spouted a wind so self-interested that Benitoite lofted it to their war's origin. Faustite broached no interruption, however, and set eir fountain pen to motion notching sharp letters across the page. Tanzanite was the first, a harrow of violent, all storm and poetry wrapped into six feet of not-quite-woman. The arm bulging at her side with feathers fluttered and scales flat. The way it raised in symbiotic objection to senshi attack blowing accoutrements into ashen smithereens. Tanzanite, the living corpse trawled twice over and puppeteered before Metallia's antechamber. Her own Punch. Her own war story to disappear into the dark.
She was the other mystery. The other half of inevitability left unfinished, unwritten. Was Bazzite key to that possibility by virtue of her hand in awakening, speculative as it was from this snide general?
Wasn't the time. Move quickly. Think. Benitoite cited displeasure, disinterest, but he begrudgingly carried with training. Loyalty, Benitoite cited. There, between the words, another implication — they bonded. Benitoite saw in him a willingness to serve him, absent starseeds and ideals and Metallia and power and feckless ambition. Him. Faustite carved out the word and struck an underline against the page. That devotion qualified the 'at first', turned the general's heart.
But what of that bond? Benitoite recounted the memory effects, the personality tweaks, but nothing more. Nothing of physical idiosyncrasies. Nothing of new fixations. No remarks on how others reacted to him or how Benitoite himself reacted to this wholesale change in demeanor. Did guilt distance him? Was he still bonded in some way due to that unflagging devotion? Or had Bazzite become the pawn he was ever meant to be, a shock troop in trade for Benitoite's better, brighter life?
"You answered half of what I asked." I'd hope you were more attentive on the battlefield, General, but lived experience points to the contrary.
"I understand it, I do. You don't know me. You have no face for the name, no history, no insight, no trust to share with our band of deviants. I'm just a voice asking you about your secrets.
"I'll come to you, General. Trade story for story." The transmission cut, their talk left under the bell jar, Faustite collected notebook and pen into eir vest pocket. In pushed the chair, the candles blown out, the space left forebodingly pristine, and the door fell shut behind em to metallic step.
General's offices were a short trip from one another. A handful of numbers, of doors, all selfsame and dreary, and ey would find another soul struggling to individualize among this living rot. Benitoite cited one of their many number as same as Faustite's, half a minute's worth of surefire steps over which ey didn't have to spill eir organs. A handful of breaths and a firm triple rap sounded on the noted number.
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Posted: Tue Mar 12, 2019 9:54 pm
Of course he'd only answered half what the other asked, he wasn't stupid. For a moment he was tempted to say that aloud to the other...but he held back. It wouldn't be polite and he didn't care to burn unknown bridges with fellow officers, who knew when he might need someones help. Shifting his weight again, this time an elbow rested on the arm of his chair and his chin rested on his back of his hand gently. Bangs of ashen blond fell across his face, scattering over his nose and down the other side of his face. it was, he supposed as he glanced at the ends of his hair, time for a trim. He should be, in some way, apologizing or saying something to the other - he wasn't though.
A voice asking about his secrets - how true that was. Rolling his eyes he was surprised by the others final words. Well, wasn't that just lovely. His boots still off, and appearing a bit shorter than he did with them on, he moved to get a drink for himself and one for the other. He didn't have any means to make coffee here, or tea, but he did have water and a few other bottled things and glasses. For now he settled for water, but would change to suit the other if need be.
He wasn't expecting such a quick arrival, he was still pouring drinks, but he turned to glance over his shoulder. "You can come in. I don't lock it...and knocking isn't a need." He was rather used to people barging in....Bazzite used to do that - barge in. The other had always been so loud and full of energy. Grabbing his cap and running off with it while shouting nonsense about space aliens and other things. He missed him...the old him...even the youma Bazzite. He simply missed the other.
"Water? Or should I pour you something else?" Turning fully he leaned his back against the small bit of dark wooden furniture he kept glasses, a serving tray, and bottles atop of. His head tipped a bit to the side and a light, perhaps even innocent, smile on his face. He was a General though and what appeared innocent likely wasn't.
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Posted: Wed Mar 20, 2019 7:23 am
Privacy must not have concerned Benitoite. A curiosity, Faustite noted, considering how much he liked to hide when asked pointed questions. Did he think this topic a joke? That Faustite came to drag his nose through all his old failings? Curiosity mounted, Faustite opened the door and stepped beyond as a lantern light spilling over the place, as a wick of fire sending all shadows into a jaunt.
If Benitoite expected human, he would not get it. While the youma officer retained eir frozen youth, looking demonstrably fifteen or sixteen, the rest was abandoned to an unearthly twist. A devilesque hand reached out to greet the other officer, who stood some inches shorter than em. Perhaps it was in Benitoite's nature to supply less than expected, for Faustite imagined someone taller, more robust, and certainly more in presence for all the bored expectation Benitoite had projected over the communicator many months ago. Whittling down expectation through continual disappointment was itself a strategy — a long game fruitful only by the end, if others' impressions are of no matter.
A cursory flicker over the place identified more of the same belonging to every officer — books, papers, stationery to some degree of old. "Tea." Eir attention returned to the shorter general, a pair of knuckles loitering against Faustite's hip. "Red rooibos if you have it. Chai if not."
A metal-booted foot swept out to nudge a chair leg outward, and Faustite seated emself sidelong where one foot remained drawn up to avoid catching in the gap of armrest and seat. Metal piping sat just above the opposite armrest, belching smoke only when Faustite drew a steady breath. Copper and salt polluted the room with its moondust accent.
Fingers steepled as eir wrists jaunted them forward and back where eir tone grew most emphatic. "You're not on trial for your mistakes, General. I don't care about your subordinate's fate. Not like that." Flame eyes settled on Benitoite. The creature fiddled in eir seat, as alive as the fire inside.
"You're sore about it, aren't you? You feel you cost the boy his life. Anyone would. Anyone who looks at youmafication like a loss. " Sitting up, Faustite pressed a shoulder into the back of eir chair. Eir right hand folded black knuckles over the corner possessively.
Faustite tested the words with eir tongue, somewhere near the numb line that bisected it. "When I youmafied, I'd eaten my General unwittingly. Still waiting on the trial for it. It cost me my civilian life, my looks, my future. Drove my mom to kill herself. Taught others to look at me like I have no self-control. Like I'm feral, something subhuman." Faustite indulged a smile, eir gaze settled on an ink pen.
Leaning forward as much as metal cage permitted, Faustite sat elbows on a chair arm and captured knuckles with knuckles. That gaze found Benitoite again as microexpressions brought it to life. "I'm going to banish this ignorance around youma but I need your help to do this. I need your story. Your truth, not just your comfort zone affairs.
"So will you help me, General?" Faustite's attention grew bright, hot as eir core, focused potent on the other officer. Focused like ey waited for something more than just an answer.
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Posted: Wed Mar 20, 2019 8:37 am
Taking the time to watch the other General, a simple ashen brow raised, he wasn't bothered by the others appearance nor by the others casual manner of seating himself. He supposed that was a necessary anyway, given the state of the others back - how interesting that did look. "While I keep tea here I'm afraid I've nothing to heat it with - less you'd like to offer a means by which to heat the water? Last time I tried a youma decided to destroy what I was using." A casual shrug followed his words.
Listening as the other started to talk, turning back to grab some of the tea leaf offerings he kept in his office more for decoration than anything at this point, he went about setting things up for the other. He didn't have the others first choice but he had chai.
Snorting softly he shook his head gently. "For those few who know what I did it seems like all it's been has been a trial. The few who knew - who found out when it happened. Two of them aren't around any longer, to where they've gone I don't know. The first to find out...I doubt they've forgotten about my moment of weakness and what that caused....but they don't seem to hold it against me." But he knew Zinkenite, at least he thought he did, and the other had not likely forgotten. If it ever suited the General King to bring it up he was sure it would be brought up. But in what manner would it be brought up? Perhaps he was paranoid, maybe not, but he didn't trust it to never be used against him. To not be looked down upon and whispered about. To have someone hang it over his head. It seemed the other might understand a bit.
"You ate your General? Their starseed?" He assumed. Who had their General been though?
"Yes, becoming a youma does do all that - and more. You aren't as much of a youma as Bazzite was...you are still human and posses feelings." Turning again he moved towards the other.
"I'll help. But I don't know everything. I'm sure there is more to know - things only Metalia and perhaps our Queen know. Things lost to the rest of us." And he held out a small cup of water and tea leaves.
"So what's your first question?" Since it seemed there would be no judgement passed on him, for what felt like the first time, he thought he could be more honest here. If it helped some cause...to lift some stigma. Though he did hope it didn't encourage people to make their own youma like he had done.
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Posted: Tue Mar 26, 2019 3:41 pm
With the teapcup gathered and pressed against eir core, the metal grinding it tenderly, Faustite locked eir jaw shut to keep composure. Thin cords of muscle stood like two supports astride a bridge, preventing it from falling and from going anywhere. That captive perfection, the general reminded emself, preserved careers. Still, eir own heat grew petulantly stifling.
The water simmered, a gentle chatter, while Benitoite wended question with comment. Faustite watched at length and offered no interruption — only affording a light nod to the question concerning his general's starseed. Occasional lofts of brow belied mild amusement or casual disbelief. More and more conversational space came between Benitoite's present discussion and the questions he asked about Faustite, until soon answering those questions became socially inappropriate, and eventually, answerable only by the most self-interested of conversationalists. Just as well.
"I already asked several. Much more than what you gave me. Better to start with the questions you skipped." Benitoite already admitted to as much as was in his file — the youmafication itself, the details of the preceding events as detailed by the later report. But what lingered ever out of reach were the developments afterward. How had that relationship changed? How did it affect Benitoite physically and emotionally? What had he done with his youma afterward? And what impact did Bazzite have on Benitoite's view of youma? Such questions and more still waited in conversational wings.
And Faustite grew testy for it. Already ey felt a flicker-burn akin to indigestion stirring languidly. Kind was he who volunteered to help, altruistic was he who helped at his own expense, but foolish was he who promised help and spared no such thing.
Eir palm formed a chair for eir chin and fingers splayed across eir temple in rest. "I'll remind you that you're not on trial." Whatever Benitoite disclosed, whatever concessions Benitoite asked in exchange for his answers, Faustite was prepared to address. Even if those concessions involved divulging some of eir own sordid moments.
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Posted: Tue Mar 26, 2019 8:22 pm
"A fact I'm rather glad for in all honesty." Settled back in his seat, with a glass of water, he tilted his head a bit. "I already mentioned the memory issues and personality change. The physical changes...are obvious....Bazzite looked rather like a locust...sounded like one as well - his wings. I don't think he could fly but hovering he could do." Bazzite also had grown a lot taller as well, not that he hadn't already been taller than the small General.
"The one thing which, to some extent, remained about him was collecting things. Before becoming a youma it was ninja things...he had something of an obsession with ninja things....I think he was even taking martial arts lessons - or had been. Afterwards he took to finding shiny objects, whether in the rift or not, and putting them into the place he lived - his nest. So while the focus changed the habit was still there. I fed it some as I'd bring him things - the downfall in the end was my habit of gifting him things. Whether it was to atone, in some way, for what I'd done by feeding his habit or something else it doesn't matter much." Though maybe to the other it would. That he'd fed a habit...and had tried to please the former officer turned youma. He'd tried to make his life as comfortable as he could...and it had broken things even more in the end.
"I don't know if you have a youma, General, but if so I'm sure you know of the bond you both share. Bazzite and myself shared one as well...a rather stronger one - since I made him. He would take my orders over another General...and ask if I would allow him to do what another officer wanted him to do - he could refuse. The only people who could not refuse are those who outrank me. He had some freedom...I don't know if other youma have that option as I'm unfamiliar with other youma. My knowledge, at least in this area, is only with a youma self created." Which was somewhat limiting but it also meant he was...an expert with self made youma? Was that even a good thing though? This other General seemed to think so.
"Now, let me ask you General. Do you know how youma are created? How to do what I did?" Not that he wanted the other to do as he had done, but he did doubt the other would.
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Posted: Sat Mar 30, 2019 2:22 pm
While Benitoite spoke, Faustite wrote, eir fingers spidering over the communicator tablet with the ease of one who grew up ever connected to the internet and yet never touching a mechanical keyboard. The object sat propped against eir knees until Benitoite finished speaking, at which Faustite examined eir notes. Satisfied, ey once again looked to the older General.
Faustite's mouth twitched before ey answered. "Youma are created through consuming starseeds. Through our power, too — I watched Laurelite make one of someone I brought to her." And what an experience it had been, to watch that solitary form bubble over with such rich, dark power that his bones reformed as his starseed cracked and bloated. Faustite watched with such a bleeding, rapt awareness that ey still smelled the chaotic energy that singed the air — the ozone mixed with crystal dust and a sourness akin to formaldehyde. The very thought of it stoked fire in em that flared a margin brighter than before.
"But I don't know how a general would do it." Faustite had never tried — had never corrupted anyone. Ey collected recruits passed on to him, whose lives were founded in the Negaverse by the upper echelons. First Heliodor, now Wolframite. Perhaps, sometime, Faustite would turn eir own.
And perhaps ey would run afoul of Benitoite's same predicament. Benitoite, who looked so keen on being strong, on being the authority, and yet did not know — could not know — where to place his care. Donating objects to something that could not accept them for all the sentiment that humans entertained. How much he tried to care, either through guilt or love or solidarity Faustite could only guess.
Benitoite's was such a strange story. What a time to learn it, too.
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Posted: Sat Mar 30, 2019 11:11 pm
"Yes, such as the General Queen we had. During the battle, where senshi and knights invaded our domain. Yes, that can happen." That was why they didn't consume so much energy and so many starseeds - to avoid that fate. It wasn't a fate most wanted to have befall them anyway, for many reasons.
"A general would do as I did - it's easy." Sipping his water slowly he settled the glass down, gentle enough that it near silently made contact with his desk. "Have you ever corrupted someone? Brought them into the Negaverse? It is the same way...but it is done on an officer...or a person but you push too much energy - shatter their starseed. It is not the most pleasant of things." But maybe the other General wouldn't mind as much as he had, everyone had their own opinions. Somehow he thought Obsidian, wherever he was, might not mind at all...might even laugh or something similar. The petite General had wondered, in the past, whether there was much sanity left to the red haired General. He had a feeling much of it had been lost...whether to the years fighting in a war or to the time spent in the Rift he wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure if it mattered.
"If not perhaps you should...at least one recruit. Someone who has promise and skill. I can help there - it's not hard." Not knowing who the other served under, if he served under any one, he'd never seen an issue in offering to help others no matter who they served under. It was, or at least should be, all about learning and improving - to better serve.
"Is there anything else you'd like to know? About Bazzite or otherwise? Since you have me here at your disposal."
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Posted: Tue Apr 02, 2019 11:59 am
"Interesting." Faustite's hands returned to the cup that balanced in eir lap, now sufficiently warmed by eir core. A careful sip confirmed as much. The tea tasted robust and unfamiliar, like a homemade blend with a new spin on an old classic. Loose leaf wouldn't tell where it was from, however — much in the same way that Benitoite's tales wouldn't tell the whole truth.
For there must be more to youma than what ey learned. Perhaps people yearn for it on a subconscious level, and in recognition of that, rail against it. Faustite remembered the pain of eir youmafication, remembered the severity of it with each successive rank, as well as the afterglow so potent that it was like an enlightenment. Like Metallia reached into eir mind and forced it open, smoothed out the brittle, broken corners where flecks of humanity hindered em. Most recently, it was eir organs. And who was to say what came next? Who was to claim what the last dying moments of a human mind felt before it shattered?
Only a full youma would do. Few proved accessible — in the case of Bazzite — and fewer still wanted to tell their stories.
"I've never corrupted anyone. Still looking for the right person." On this, Faustite chewed eir silence. With growing time spent between them, Faustite became more sure that eir corruptions would end far more like Benitoite's abortive promotion. Faustite's flickering gaze searched the boy, one hand propped and formed into an idle, prickly claw, before ey looked to Benitoite's busied hands. Interesting that he'd offer such guidance; he must've recovered from his shame enough to trust his own hands again.
Faustite took another sip before retiring the cup to Benitoite's desk. Back sore and groaning around exhaust pipes, ey adjusted in eir seat. Sat up straight. Broadened shoulders. To more inquiries about Bazzite, Faustite shook eir head. "I have one question left for you: what makes a good leader?"
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Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2019 4:42 pm
He had, for a fair few minuets, been watching the other silently. Watched the other drink and shift, become more comfortable, and then speak. Nodding his head to the others words. "It's hard to find the right person. Who knows how a person will handle learning everything we've learned - experience it all. We may think a person is right...and then find out it's all false - they aren't suited. I don't think we can predict the right person before we've already brought them into the ranks...a sink or swim sort of thing. We just have to pull them into the deep end and see what happens. It's one thing I've come to believe as time has gone on." A roll of his shoulders as he shifted in his chair.
Sock clad feet tucked up under himself, giving himself a bit of height, as he tilted his head to the side. "Now that is an interesting question. The answer however is rather broad and I doubt will satisfy you as it isn't entierly an answer. I don't think there is any set of qualities that make a good leaderr. I think for each person you lead you may need to be something slightly different. Some want to be coddled and others just want to be pointed at a target and given an order. Everyone has different needs and different ambitions. Some people are more independant and some want a team and want structure. I think the one thing I can say is true, in all cases, is that a leader needs to be able to change as needed. From person to person you need to see how you are needed an adjust to those needs. You can't coddle someone who has an independent streak about them - you'll smother them. You also can't let someone off on their own who lacks confidence...they'll sink." Or worse yet - change sides.
"You need to see what each persons needs are and adjust to it. That's the only thing a leader needs. Everything else changes as the wind blows." He supposed he had given something of a solid answer - adaptability.
"People adapt by nature - we have to. Some are just better at it...as a leader isn't needed more than as a civilian who goes about their mundane life working a simple job under others. But people always need to read other people...to read situations and adjust themselves as needed. You can't say certain things around certain groups of people...you can't dress in certain ways. You're expected to behave in one way with one group of people but can act out and be loud with another. It's all the same thing...it's just more important here I suppose."
Sipping his drink he gulped the last bit down and set the empty glass down. "It's how we turn the white moon into officers...we adapt and fill their needs and bring them around to joining us." Finger tips gently glided down the outside of the glass and across his desk, random patterns traced out, as he hummed softly to himself. "It's all a game...a manipulation - an act. We behave and become what we need to be...whether that's who we actually are...well...that's another story." A shrug as he watched the other, lifting his slate eyes to the others brighter ones.
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2019 10:38 am
Benitoite spent great volume on what he wanted to say, and as Faustite listened, ey caught emself drifting into a critical lull. Every unnecessary word pricked nerves that ratcheted the temperature of eir attention. Conversely, ey saw in Benitoite's answer what the imperative form so eloquently delivers in less effort. And there was, surprisingly, one benefit to Benitoite's delivery — it sounded far less sharp, less exacting, less prone to incite arguments or mixed reactions.
And he raised a second point that Faustite hadn't considered in ages. As humans, most didn't have leaders but for exceedingly specific circumstances. Social groups and work-related tasks, or touring parties, or formal classes. Only in the military did they spend day and night with someone at their lead. Only then did someone mint them into new personas tirelessly.
How different from my thoughts. Faustite's attention, having traveled through Benitoite's prolonged response, centered on him again. "Leaders must be reactionary chameleons." Ey let eir summary sit on the air while ey downed the rest of eir tea, largely untouched due to simple sips, and eir core lit with a hissing spit like bacon fat on a griddle. Pops and sizzles petered after every gulp until enough of the drink was vaporized. Ey still hungered, thirsted.
Thirsted for a closer answer. An example, a figure. A person exemplary of Benitoite's outlook on leadership.
"Interesting." Faustite stood, retired the cup to Benitoite's desk, watched flicker-flame paint light into the shadows of the general's eyes, watched it warm his pale face. "Thank you for your contributions, General. I expect you at the seminar." Ey pulled from the Negaverse's standard-issue Nowhere a legal pad and a real pen, then held one against the desk while ey jabbed out letters with the other. Time, date and place were evident, plus a supplied secondary note: I want them to know what we spoke about. Tell them about our Power's repercussions. About Bazzite's purification. I will answer any shame coming to you.
Faustite tore the note along perforation, then trimmed the excess using the desk edge as a cutting surface. Faustite then pinched that note between long nails and handed it to Benitoite.
"We'll see each other again soon."sleet tempest snape can wrap here or on your post!
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