Wrath 011 - In Prison
Who: Wrath and on the morning of March 1st, Franziska von Karma?: Before March 1st, open to police, or anyone who comes to stare at him.
Where: Police Station/Courthouse
Style: I'm starting in third, but if you want to switch to first, that's cool ^^
Status: Closed except to those indicated above.
He sat on the bed in his cell, staring with both eyes through the barred door. After many weeks of sleeping in his office at Central Command, especially as the Promised Day had drawn near, this bed was rather comfortable.
When he had waked from a dream, he found himself bound by the wrists. The lightness in his pockets alerted him that they had confiscated his Dreamberry, Red Stones, and his sword. He could only imagine what Ishikawa Goemon's reaction to this would be--to the monster who had plagued the long-haired man without relent for weeks on end being without his sword, it being in the hands of the police, the humans. Brute that Wrath was, he knew what a sword meant well enough, and without it he felt not only explosive rage but emasculation.
But groggy from the tranquilizer, he was in no position to resist.
He was made to sit in front of a camera as they took his photograph for police records and to put his fingers on an ink pad and give them his fingerprints. The latter procedure, he found it a curious way of registering their criminals, and for every ounce of scrutiny Somarium's system subjected him to he returned the favor with equal scrutiny. As he understood it each human being produced an irreproducible fingerprint, and this is why the police took them. Same went, he surmised, for the Homunculi's prints.
Aside from the photographs, the procedure was alien until the interrogation, at which point he was interrogated by low-ranking officers at the police department. Quite the change there, for when he and his ilk used Second Lieutenant Maria Ross as a scapegoat for Hughes's death, not to wildly place blame but to shield Envy, the real murderer, and safeguard their plans. The human higher-ups were easily co-opted and thus conducted Ross's interrogation. That's the way it always worked. Those who were lower-ranking were invariably kept in the dark. In Somarium, it would seem that it was the opposite.
Because the police had succeeded in arresting him, he gave them the information that they asked for, disclosing both of his designations, that he was currently without domicile, that he had indeed murdered Ishikawa and the pertinent details to it, and so forth. After they were satisfied he was brought from the police department to the courthouse where they put him on trial. Even swifter business. And when his sentence had been handed out, Wrath couldn't help but think,
Who knew that humans could be so efficient.
Soon after, Wrath was brought back to the police station, and even though the sentence was negligible, laughably light considering his crime--he could just hear in his head, Pride's disapproval --for a Homunculus to be held captive by humans even for a few hours brought shame on the name of the species--and Pride would expect much better from Wrath.
But Pride wasn't here. No one was here, save for the low-ranked, silent guards, the ones that came regularly to give him food, which was different every day, he noted. He could hear the noisome voices of the other prisoners, but they had put him in a cell by himself, away from the others.
Wrath stewed in silent resentment. He undertstood that the confinement was humane, was designed to give the least grief possible to the prisoners and possibly therefore, eliminating bitterness before it started.
Still, being isolated within the four concrete walls with a barred window and door was all too similar to when he was a boy. Here, without his sword, without the means to rip a hole through the wall or rend through the metal bars--for his strength greatly surpassed that of a human, but he lacked the bulldozing strength of Sloth or Envy's that could level buildings--he felt weak and human. Just like before. No way out.
The only way was to accept it passively, like he had done back then. But for a Homunculus to do so--it made his blood boil and his eyes, bathed in shadow to spark uncontrollably.
And on the other hand--he was--strangely eager. To re-forge contacts with those that he had met--with Kirby, with Rika---to repair the bonds between those he had alienated---Lilly.
These foolishly merciful humans were going to let him loose again. And this prospect, unlikely as it was to do so, negated his ever-present wrath, negated the despair locked away in that laboratory, filling him with an emotion that he never had felt before.
____. (Hope.) Perhaps soon he would be able to explain it to someone and ask its name from them.
He stared beyond the barred window, lifting his eyes upwards.
Where: Police Station/Courthouse
Style: I'm starting in third, but if you want to switch to first, that's cool ^^
Status: Closed except to those indicated above.
He sat on the bed in his cell, staring with both eyes through the barred door. After many weeks of sleeping in his office at Central Command, especially as the Promised Day had drawn near, this bed was rather comfortable.
When he had waked from a dream, he found himself bound by the wrists. The lightness in his pockets alerted him that they had confiscated his Dreamberry, Red Stones, and his sword. He could only imagine what Ishikawa Goemon's reaction to this would be--to the monster who had plagued the long-haired man without relent for weeks on end being without his sword, it being in the hands of the police, the humans. Brute that Wrath was, he knew what a sword meant well enough, and without it he felt not only explosive rage but emasculation.
But groggy from the tranquilizer, he was in no position to resist.
He was made to sit in front of a camera as they took his photograph for police records and to put his fingers on an ink pad and give them his fingerprints. The latter procedure, he found it a curious way of registering their criminals, and for every ounce of scrutiny Somarium's system subjected him to he returned the favor with equal scrutiny. As he understood it each human being produced an irreproducible fingerprint, and this is why the police took them. Same went, he surmised, for the Homunculi's prints.
Aside from the photographs, the procedure was alien until the interrogation, at which point he was interrogated by low-ranking officers at the police department. Quite the change there, for when he and his ilk used Second Lieutenant Maria Ross as a scapegoat for Hughes's death, not to wildly place blame but to shield Envy, the real murderer, and safeguard their plans. The human higher-ups were easily co-opted and thus conducted Ross's interrogation. That's the way it always worked. Those who were lower-ranking were invariably kept in the dark. In Somarium, it would seem that it was the opposite.
Because the police had succeeded in arresting him, he gave them the information that they asked for, disclosing both of his designations, that he was currently without domicile, that he had indeed murdered Ishikawa and the pertinent details to it, and so forth. After they were satisfied he was brought from the police department to the courthouse where they put him on trial. Even swifter business. And when his sentence had been handed out, Wrath couldn't help but think,
Who knew that humans could be so efficient.
Soon after, Wrath was brought back to the police station, and even though the sentence was negligible, laughably light considering his crime--he could just hear in his head, Pride's disapproval --for a Homunculus to be held captive by humans even for a few hours brought shame on the name of the species--and Pride would expect much better from Wrath.
But Pride wasn't here. No one was here, save for the low-ranked, silent guards, the ones that came regularly to give him food, which was different every day, he noted. He could hear the noisome voices of the other prisoners, but they had put him in a cell by himself, away from the others.
Wrath stewed in silent resentment. He undertstood that the confinement was humane, was designed to give the least grief possible to the prisoners and possibly therefore, eliminating bitterness before it started.
Still, being isolated within the four concrete walls with a barred window and door was all too similar to when he was a boy. Here, without his sword, without the means to rip a hole through the wall or rend through the metal bars--for his strength greatly surpassed that of a human, but he lacked the bulldozing strength of Sloth or Envy's that could level buildings--he felt weak and human. Just like before. No way out.
The only way was to accept it passively, like he had done back then. But for a Homunculus to do so--it made his blood boil and his eyes, bathed in shadow to spark uncontrollably.
And on the other hand--he was--strangely eager. To re-forge contacts with those that he had met--with Kirby, with Rika---to repair the bonds between those he had alienated---Lilly.
These foolishly merciful humans were going to let him loose again. And this prospect, unlikely as it was to do so, negated his ever-present wrath, negated the despair locked away in that laboratory, filling him with an emotion that he never had felt before.
____. (Hope.) Perhaps soon he would be able to explain it to someone and ask its name from them.
He stared beyond the barred window, lifting his eyes upwards.