[ viren makes a series of faces in reaction to keith's exclamations, and inquiries, and observations. the last of which has his posture tensing, eyes growing wider. how should he answer that one? with the truth? lie through his teeth? and then he relents, ]
What does it matter? Soren doesn't know, nor need to know, all of my personal business! [ more acrimoniously, ] Any of it, for that matter.
[ he bites his tongue, forcing himself to think before he blurts out some other, potentially unconvincing, response. he hadn't been prepared to handle this level of damage control. but if pressed... ]
[ with a growl, and an arch of an eyebrow, ]
Speaking of which -- you would think to mind your own, boy.
[ This might be the least consequential of his current gripes with Viren, but it sure is the first thing Keith says. Standing straight backed with one hand on his hip, the other slipped inside a pocket, he may as well just be the poster boy for recalcitrants. He sucks in a deep breath. ]
If you wanna be mad at me for snooping around, fine. But you're not convincing me that you wouldn't have done the same if you were curious enough.
[ Incurious people don't get involved in mystery blood rituals, after all. ]
I'm not gonna get involved in other people's family drama so fine -- Soren doesn't know. He won't hear about this from me.
But I want to know what you were trying to get out of that ritual.
[ keith could very well bt the poster boy for it. it's a trait that viren finds, naturally, intensely undesirable, detests it-- of course he does, when met with disagreement. but that particular request, at least, receives little outward response. ]
[ the accusation, however, is met with a narrowing of his eyes, a slight shuffling of his boots. keith's hit the nail on the head with that acknowledge hypocrisy: that of course he would've done the same, and perhaps even more doggedly. and although viren's tone hadn't been kind before, precisely, now it's gone cold. there's a thmp of his tail against the dungeon's stone flooring. ]
[ it's a question that stirs something within him - his own unease at the circumstances behind it, what he had been trying to get. ]
And why, [ he finally breathes, some smoke trailing from between teeth, ] is that of consequence to you?
[ Ah. So Viren's feeling defensive or threatened, is he? If Keith were the sort to buckle to intimidation, he wouldn't be trying to fight Zarkon one on one, so tragically the tail thump and billowing smoke does little to persuade him to head towards the exit mirror. ]
It just might. [ A beat. ] You are a member of the city council, aren't you?
[His eyes marrow slightly. Viren seems a little too pompous to play dumb intentionally, so he doubts he's going to have to elaborate on where he's going with that. ]
So tell me. What were you trying to get out of that ritual.
[ as it stands, viren doesn't need the elaboration; indeed, pompous he may be, spelling out the sub subtleties and implications when mentioning politics is unnecessary. ]
[ he feels caught, somehow, like a rat chased into a glue trap. he curses himself: for all the memories shared alongside others, he should've prepared for this. there's a long moment of tense silence. he half considers blowing off the question with a huff, storming out the mirror himself. ]
[ keith receives a cold, hard stare. ]
Perhaps you haven't experienced it: to be at a point so low that you're without a choice, that you're forced to exhaust the least desirable, and the very last, of avenues available to you.
[ the words bite terribly at his pride. he deems it a loss, to admit that he couldn't be certain of what to expect. "commonplace" ritual, and all. so, quietly, ]
[ There've been a lot of twists and turns in the last couple of minutes. Prying into other people's memories is naturally going to come with a few unexpected curveballs, but going even beyond the oddity of Viren's blood ritual, possible (?) Galra connections and bug familiar is the preface Viren attaches to his answer.
Keith stares for a moment, expression softening with surprise. He stays quiet like he halfway expects there to be some punchline to the fact that he's now somehow feeling ... not exactly sorry for Viren, but a shade more sympathetic than he ever wanted to.
Low points, huh. Maybe it's easier to laugh at the thought that someone actually thinks he's some privileged spoilt kid who's never had a hard day in his life. If he dwells on it long enough, he certainly starts feeling a familiar and comfortable kind of irritation.
He drops eye contact, looking off to the stone wall. Even that, he realizes, has probably said a bit too much. Looking back up, he continues in the same defiant tone as before. ]
To help you with what?
[ Maybe it's too early to be feeling sympathetic. Maybe it was just a completely frivolous thing, but the fact that he's quit throwing out goading commentary, if nothing else, could probably be taken as a sign of grudging respect. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What does it matter? Soren doesn't know, nor need to know, all of my personal business! [ more acrimoniously, ] Any of it, for that matter.
[ he bites his tongue, forcing himself to think before he blurts out some other, potentially unconvincing, response. he hadn't been prepared to handle this level of damage control. but if pressed... ]
[ with a growl, and an arch of an eyebrow, ]
Speaking of which -- you would think to mind your own, boy.
no subject
[ This might be the least consequential of his current gripes with Viren, but it sure is the first thing Keith says. Standing straight backed with one hand on his hip, the other slipped inside a pocket, he may as well just be the poster boy for recalcitrants. He sucks in a deep breath. ]
If you wanna be mad at me for snooping around, fine. But you're not convincing me that you wouldn't have done the same if you were curious enough.
[ Incurious people don't get involved in mystery blood rituals, after all. ]
I'm not gonna get involved in other people's family drama so fine -- Soren doesn't know. He won't hear about this from me.
But I want to know what you were trying to get out of that ritual.
no subject
[ the accusation, however, is met with a narrowing of his eyes, a slight shuffling of his boots. keith's hit the nail on the head with that acknowledge hypocrisy: that of course he would've done the same, and perhaps even more doggedly. and although viren's tone hadn't been kind before, precisely, now it's gone cold. there's a thmp of his tail against the dungeon's stone flooring. ]
[ it's a question that stirs something within him - his own unease at the circumstances behind it, what he had been trying to get. ]
And why, [ he finally breathes, some smoke trailing from between teeth, ] is that of consequence to you?
no subject
It just might. [ A beat. ] You are a member of the city council, aren't you?
[His eyes marrow slightly. Viren seems a little too pompous to play dumb intentionally, so he doubts he's going to have to elaborate on where he's going with that. ]
So tell me. What were you trying to get out of that ritual.
no subject
[ he feels caught, somehow, like a rat chased into a glue trap. he curses himself: for all the memories shared alongside others, he should've prepared for this. there's a long moment of tense silence. he half considers blowing off the question with a huff, storming out the mirror himself. ]
[ keith receives a cold, hard stare. ]
Perhaps you haven't experienced it: to be at a point so low that you're without a choice, that you're forced to exhaust the least desirable, and the very last, of avenues available to you.
[ the words bite terribly at his pride. he deems it a loss, to admit that he couldn't be certain of what to expect. "commonplace" ritual, and all. so, quietly, ]
Answers. Counsel. Anything -- to help.
no subject
Keith stares for a moment, expression softening with surprise. He stays quiet like he halfway expects there to be some punchline to the fact that he's now somehow feeling ... not exactly sorry for Viren, but a shade more sympathetic than he ever wanted to.
Low points, huh. Maybe it's easier to laugh at the thought that someone actually thinks he's some privileged spoilt kid who's never had a hard day in his life. If he dwells on it long enough, he certainly starts feeling a familiar and comfortable kind of irritation.
He drops eye contact, looking off to the stone wall. Even that, he realizes, has probably said a bit too much. Looking back up, he continues in the same defiant tone as before. ]
To help you with what?
[ Maybe it's too early to be feeling sympathetic. Maybe it was just a completely frivolous thing, but the fact that he's quit throwing out goading commentary, if nothing else, could probably be taken as a sign of grudging respect. ]