Incomplete.
Who: Harvey Dent/Two-Face, Aizen Sousuke.
What: Two-Face and Sousuke go to have a chat about things, after identifying each other as complete creepers.
Where: The church.
When: Right after this exchange.
It was about half the size he'd been expecting.
That seemed, in a strange way, to be very appropriate.
Aizen took a moment outside of the building to look up slowly, up to the very top of the building's front face, cast in dark shadows with the grey sun somewhere behind it. His smile was serene as he was washed in its grim shadow, eyes dark and impenetrable. It looked cold, didn't it? Silent, imposing in its own way, as imposing as a building could look, and Aizen found that particularly interesting. Strange how a building designed to be a safe haven to those of that particular faith could seem, on certain days, in certain lights, so dead, so hopeless, and long forgotten.
He'd never been inside the church, before. But then, there'd never been any reason for him to until now, with no particular interest in what it stood for, no particular care for its aesthetic value. It was only now that it could possibly serve of any use to him, only now that he could see any worth in it; still, beyond its role in his meeting with Two-Face, the offered privacy of holy ground, it was nothing but stone and degraded dreams to him. Just another home to ailing hope.
His fingers slid down the fine seal between the two doors, cold metal framework and old hard wood. They slowly grasped the circular handle, lifted the latch, and let him inside.
He'd almost expected the hinges to creak with age, with the place looking fairly degraded as it was, and was pleased when it didn't; that was better, after all, that was appropriate for them. Silence, secrecy, and it took no time for his eyes to adjust to the dark on the inside, the muddy blue-grey of the light that killed the gleam of the statues within. Even marble looked like stone there, classical faces transfixed on some distant place, and Aizen smiled, and Aizen thought, how appropriate.
Particularly when the presence of the pupil was manufactured by drilling a hole into each eye.
Even the stained glass couldn't penetrate the cold. Reds and yellows, warmth and light leaked in and became blue, grey, brown, muddy little shapes across their slanting frames and down across the floors and rows and rows of rotting pews.
One lone, hunched back could be seen at the front, and he moved towards it, reiatsu drawn in close, suppressed tightly, and his hair was slicked back into something a little more familiar. Down across the center between the high, arched windows and empty seats, and Kyouka Suigetsu clicked when his hand brushed delicately over it, long fingers sliding across the hilt to rest on top of it. He walked, sandalled feet on cold, hard stone, and stopped at the front, level with Harvey Dent.
Two-Face.
His eyes were fixed on the front between the twin arches that stretched on either side, up to the delicate carving of the altar that didn't seem quite illuminated enough. It barely caught glimmers of light across the polished edges, the rich red wood chipped and grazed, It looked like the original, old as the building itself, but he didn't move any closer to investigate the elaborate handiwork.
It could very well have been that he wasn't looking at it at all, but through it.
"Might I ask," he began, his voice low and rich and reverberating through the hollow building, "to which of you I should refer, at the moment?"
[ooc: d[fsdjf *quietly smothers the english language forever.*]
What: Two-Face and Sousuke go to have a chat about things, after identifying each other as complete creepers.
Where: The church.
When: Right after this exchange.
It was about half the size he'd been expecting.
That seemed, in a strange way, to be very appropriate.
Aizen took a moment outside of the building to look up slowly, up to the very top of the building's front face, cast in dark shadows with the grey sun somewhere behind it. His smile was serene as he was washed in its grim shadow, eyes dark and impenetrable. It looked cold, didn't it? Silent, imposing in its own way, as imposing as a building could look, and Aizen found that particularly interesting. Strange how a building designed to be a safe haven to those of that particular faith could seem, on certain days, in certain lights, so dead, so hopeless, and long forgotten.
He'd never been inside the church, before. But then, there'd never been any reason for him to until now, with no particular interest in what it stood for, no particular care for its aesthetic value. It was only now that it could possibly serve of any use to him, only now that he could see any worth in it; still, beyond its role in his meeting with Two-Face, the offered privacy of holy ground, it was nothing but stone and degraded dreams to him. Just another home to ailing hope.
His fingers slid down the fine seal between the two doors, cold metal framework and old hard wood. They slowly grasped the circular handle, lifted the latch, and let him inside.
He'd almost expected the hinges to creak with age, with the place looking fairly degraded as it was, and was pleased when it didn't; that was better, after all, that was appropriate for them. Silence, secrecy, and it took no time for his eyes to adjust to the dark on the inside, the muddy blue-grey of the light that killed the gleam of the statues within. Even marble looked like stone there, classical faces transfixed on some distant place, and Aizen smiled, and Aizen thought, how appropriate.
Particularly when the presence of the pupil was manufactured by drilling a hole into each eye.
Even the stained glass couldn't penetrate the cold. Reds and yellows, warmth and light leaked in and became blue, grey, brown, muddy little shapes across their slanting frames and down across the floors and rows and rows of rotting pews.
One lone, hunched back could be seen at the front, and he moved towards it, reiatsu drawn in close, suppressed tightly, and his hair was slicked back into something a little more familiar. Down across the center between the high, arched windows and empty seats, and Kyouka Suigetsu clicked when his hand brushed delicately over it, long fingers sliding across the hilt to rest on top of it. He walked, sandalled feet on cold, hard stone, and stopped at the front, level with Harvey Dent.
Two-Face.
His eyes were fixed on the front between the twin arches that stretched on either side, up to the delicate carving of the altar that didn't seem quite illuminated enough. It barely caught glimmers of light across the polished edges, the rich red wood chipped and grazed, It looked like the original, old as the building itself, but he didn't move any closer to investigate the elaborate handiwork.
It could very well have been that he wasn't looking at it at all, but through it.
"Might I ask," he began, his voice low and rich and reverberating through the hollow building, "to which of you I should refer, at the moment?"
[ooc: d[fsdjf *quietly smothers the english language forever.*]