He growls, frustrated. "I'm not not talking about it. I don't know what I would do. I've never had to do really horrible things to survive. Not myself, not when I wasn't inside someone else. I've never had my own limbs to hurt people with."
There's a spike of doubt growing, a little seed twisting his stomach up that he tries to ignore as much as he can. Roman looks to the picturesque river, to the floating entity, back to the river.
"What about when you were inside of someone else?"
There's a long silence at that. He's had this form, this in-between body for much longer now than he was inside Arthur's eyes. His learning curve has been different than John's, which leaves him--for better or worse--more physically expressive. As much as he's able to float motionless and unreadable if he wants to, his reaction to that question is an instinctive curling inward, a lessening of his presence for a breath.
"...No. But he-- that version of Arthur, he told me about someone he killed. One he was sorry about. But then he threatened to kill others. I saw the... results of a creature's attention to a human. The results of human attention to a pack of wolves. I am not... unfamiliar with violence. I killed Arthur when I came here. I strangled him and pushed him down the stairs, but I didn't realize at first that he was dead after he landed. I hurt him at Halloween because I was angry at the one I knew."
He holds up a few tentacles to inspect, clearly and suddenly fascinated as the realization sinks in. He hasn't hurt that many people. He, himself, Edwin, hasn't hurt many people at all, no matter what being he was a part of before. A shadow lifts, a guilt and shame and sadness he didn't know was there, clinging like a tarnish to everything. No matter what Arthur said about him, to him, the Arthur he met first, he's not a monster. Maybe it's just because he's never had opportunity to be, but he's not.
Roman's not well versed in shit like 'crown wearing tentacle child' but he knows how to read people when he wants to. Probably it's a bit fucked up he's not helping right away but Roman leans back, analyzing the other carefully. This isn't a board room and this isn't a press conference and this isn't a news network, but people are people.
Or eldrich beings.
Roman watches. Roman analyzes. He presses his lips into a thin line.
"Promise you won't narc and I'll tell you a secret."
Edwin looks at him through the blank, fractured mask, tentacles still held poised. His tone makes his curiosity and surprise clear. "I won't narc. What's narc-ing?"
Given the decision he and JD made to keep the designation of brothers, how much it means to them both, Edwin lets out a very small gasp of surprise from nonexistent lungs.
Roman hears that gasp. His gaze slides to the side and he can't help a little smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
Gotcha, motherfucker. You're hooked.
"I was messed up on some curse shit, which is a shitty excuse even if it is the truth." He'd been wanting to do it for years, he'd been not wanting to do it for years. They've been metaphorically stabbing each other since before they could hold a conversation. The Roy siblings are complicated. So's Yellow.
"I was just so fucking pissed at him. For being the Eldest, for getting everything, for constantly thinking he knew what was better for me. What a piece of shit, right?"
Edwin drifts closer as Roman captures his attention, describing feelings he knows so well. Not the same ones, not exactly, but the parallel emotions make it so easy to imagine.
"I felt like that. About John. Before I knew him."
"Right." Maybe it's a bit stupid to bond over murdering people they care about, but fucked if it's not something. It's morbid. Weird. Maybe inappropriate. They just met and Roman went secret-for-not-secret, but it's not like Roman has a wealth of inter-dimensional experience to deal with and it seemed to have worked.
"You felt weird, though, right? Like, yeah, you were pissed, and I'm sure it felt great, but after?"
"About killing Arthur?" He pauses, thinking back, remembering what he'd said before he let Arthur fall.
Be helpless.
"It did feel good. Seeing him afraid. Knowing I made him afraid, that I was the one who had power." A pause. "But it didn't feel good afterward. It didn't feel good when he didn't get angry back at me, when he was kind and patient. It didn't feel good that John forgave me and cared enough to make sure I was... okay, on Halloween. When I tried to hurt Arthur again."
"That you can graduate. That you're not gonna just sit and spin here." Roman's pretty damn confident. The urge to reach into the shitty little cooler and pull out a six pack of extremely terrible 'normal people beer' he knows in there is strong, but he doesn't. Mostly because he knows it'll taste like shit beyond being bud lite. Thanks, Enclosure.
"Certifiable proof that you're not a bad person gone completely off the deep end: you have a conscious."
Well that's startling. The level of confidence in him from a stranger. It feels warm, in a different way than the internal warmth Jedao or John or Hunter or the plants and animals on board cause.
Roman's entire face scrunches up at that, leaning back. He wishes he had his sunglasses, but this'll have to do. He can admire the river and pat himself on the back for being pretty much the Best Warden Ever like this.
"Depends on a lot of things, I think. Depends on you. Sometimes it's slow and steady, sometimes it's immediate. Aaaaaalll dependent on you."
He glances over.
"Maybe it'll take you a month. Maybe it'll take you two, I don't know. I spent half a year not even bothering and this place fuckin' chipped away at me anyway." A giggle.
Edited (that icon was WAY too agressive) 2024-01-25 18:05 (UTC)
"Yeah." Roman nods, and then glances over at Edwin, eyes raking over the mask.
"Not literally. But, y'know, somewhere in my cold dead heart Raylan found a way to slowly start piecing it together and now I'm a real boy, walkin' and talkin' and everything."
He shrugs.
"It's gonna take time, probably. But it's possible. And if you're really good at it, you get to evolve into a warden, like me."
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There's a spike of doubt growing, a little seed twisting his stomach up that he tries to ignore as much as he can. Roman looks to the picturesque river, to the floating entity, back to the river.
"What about when you were inside of someone else?"
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"...No. But he-- that version of Arthur, he told me about someone he killed. One he was sorry about. But then he threatened to kill others. I saw the... results of a creature's attention to a human. The results of human attention to a pack of wolves. I am not... unfamiliar with violence. I killed Arthur when I came here. I strangled him and pushed him down the stairs, but I didn't realize at first that he was dead after he landed. I hurt him at Halloween because I was angry at the one I knew."
He holds up a few tentacles to inspect, clearly and suddenly fascinated as the realization sinks in. He hasn't hurt that many people. He, himself, Edwin, hasn't hurt many people at all, no matter what being he was a part of before. A shadow lifts, a guilt and shame and sadness he didn't know was there, clinging like a tarnish to everything. No matter what Arthur said about him, to him, the Arthur he met first, he's not a monster. Maybe it's just because he's never had opportunity to be, but he's not.
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Or eldrich beings.
Roman watches. Roman analyzes. He presses his lips into a thin line.
"Promise you won't narc and I'll tell you a secret."
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He can't say dick in his hands. Not to this guy. There's a limit, even for Roman. He tries again.
"I've only told one other person about this, so you've got something on me. Anyway--I...maybe... sort of, uh. I killed my brother, sort of recently?"
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"...Was he trying to hurt you?"
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Roman hears that gasp. His gaze slides to the side and he can't help a little smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
Gotcha, motherfucker. You're hooked.
"I was messed up on some curse shit, which is a shitty excuse even if it is the truth." He'd been wanting to do it for years, he'd been not wanting to do it for years. They've been metaphorically stabbing each other since before they could hold a conversation. The Roy siblings are complicated. So's Yellow.
"I was just so fucking pissed at him. For being the Eldest, for getting everything, for constantly thinking he knew what was better for me. What a piece of shit, right?"
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"I felt like that. About John. Before I knew him."
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"You felt weird, though, right? Like, yeah, you were pissed, and I'm sure it felt great, but after?"
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Be helpless.
"It did feel good. Seeing him afraid. Knowing I made him afraid, that I was the one who had power." A pause. "But it didn't feel good afterward. It didn't feel good when he didn't get angry back at me, when he was kind and patient. It didn't feel good that John forgave me and cared enough to make sure I was... okay, on Halloween. When I tried to hurt Arthur again."
Another pause. "No. It didn't feel good after."
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"Fuck yeah." He doesn't bother to hide the triumphant fist pump, either. No point.
"You know what that is, right? Proof. Grade A, organic, 100% crunchy proof. This is a good thing."
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He's baffled and a little alarmed and trying not to show the latter.
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"Certifiable proof that you're not a bad person gone completely off the deep end: you have a conscious."
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"How do I do it? Graduate?"
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"Depends on a lot of things, I think. Depends on you. Sometimes it's slow and steady, sometimes it's immediate. Aaaaaalll dependent on you."
He glances over.
"Maybe it'll take you a month. Maybe it'll take you two, I don't know. I spent half a year not even bothering and this place fuckin' chipped away at me anyway." A giggle.
I LAUGHED AT THE FIRST ICON NGL
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"Not literally. But, y'know, somewhere in my cold dead heart Raylan found a way to slowly start piecing it together and now I'm a real boy, walkin' and talkin' and everything."
He shrugs.
"It's gonna take time, probably. But it's possible. And if you're really good at it, you get to evolve into a warden, like me."
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"You were dead? You weren't real?"
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