towerofanimus | Caster's Dilemma

Characters: Bluebeard, Jeanne d'Arc, Roommates
Setting: Room 2-18
Format: Any!
Summary: Caster appears and he's none too happy.
Warnings: Caster being Caster.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." (Matthew 5:7)
Those are some of the words that Gilles de Rais had once kept close to his heart. It was, after all, nothing short of mercy given to the French when "she" had appeared. On that fateful day, Gilles questioned the word in all its meaning when "she" was denied the same. Cruelty defined the shape of the world. Should it truly be the case, then Gilles would not question it. He was prepared to drown the world in his own brand of cruelty. Not only that, though, but he would make art out of it. Wicked God, you who expouse lovingkindness, must be shown in full form evils unimaginable, the likes of which not even He could have conceived in Creation. This became the mission of Gilles de Rais who fell far from grace and could not even be bothered to look back. The man basked in the dark fog that clouded his mind.

For a brief moment, there was a respite. The fog was lifted by a light shining far brighter than any other. He witnessed it again, even in the depths of his corruption. "She" had appeared once more in his visions. Though short, his time outside the fog made him question exactly what it is that he had been doing. For just a second, Gilles de Rais wished for salvation that had long eluded him. The light has dissipated and the fog has returned. Gilles, though, could never forget what it is that he saw.

Now, though? Once back in this darkness, it only frightens and confuses him. Draped with the white cloth the tower had provided him, the man, akin to a mad beast desperate to escape its cage once again, claws at the walls of his dormitory and bangs at it with his body and forehead.

"Tell me, just what is it that I have been doing!? Why... why have I been made to return!? After my greatest spectacle has torn down by that unmistakable light, I..." Gilles stammered, as his entire form slumped down onto the floor. He placed his forehead against the cold tiles and kept his eyes fixed close on his own shadows. "I, who sinned greater than any other individual human... I, who should have been cast into damnation... I, who have blindly pursued La Pucelle in the deepest darkness... have returned. To do what... To continue in my decadent ways? Do you... approve of this, God? Then why was I shown that light again!? Why!? Why!?"
The tall, dirty beast of a man howls and continues in his tantrums, waiting for an answer that he will never receive. Heaven help all should this answer decide to continue his ways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As a Servant, Jeanne of course had the ability to sense others of her "kind". With the amount of Servants appearing in the tower, though, it wasn't really such a useful ability anymore. They were all in close proximity most of the time, so she had learned to only pay half-attention to that familiar prickling on the back of her neck.

But now? Now was different. It wasn't the familiar feeling of a Servant a bit far off. No... this sensation hit her hard - whoever it was was close, not just on this floor, perhaps even closer...

And that's when the screaming started. Or perhaps screeching should be a better word. Whichever it was, the voice was right next door - a voice that she hadn't heard in the tower before. But... but...

She may not have heard this voice in the tower prior to now, but she has most certainly heard it before. And that hint of dreaded familiarity causes her to stumble - actually stumble! - out of her room and to the next one over, her hand shaking only a little as she wrenches the door open.

The fair-haired Servant simply stands there in the doorway, making no move to step in, a look of shock clear on her face.

"... Gilles?"

The mess of a man hears an unmistakable voice. He gasps silently under his breath and halts his tantrum completely. Raising his head form the ground and peeking through between his fingers at the blonde standing at the doorway, he gasps. Lowering his hands from his face reveals to Jeanne just how much her old ally's face changed. Gilles picks himself up and extends his arms out towards La Pucelle. He approaches, completely entranced by the figure standing in front of him.

"J-jeanne... Jeanne, is that truly you? You called me by my name..."

Something inside of her just... twists. She's not sure if it's her heart or her gut - probably both - but it doesn't matter. All that mattered was that feeling of ill uneasiness at seeing her friend's twisted appearance in person. Not through the sometimes fuzzy view of the memories the Holy Grail had given her...

She doesn't move closer as he does, but neither does she move back. She just stands her ground in the doorway, hands balled into fists so tightly that her knuckles turn white. She doesn't look happy to see him, or sad, or even angry... just conflicted. Very, very conflicted.

"Yes, Gilles de Rais. It is me," Her voice is surprisingly even when she speaks. "I can assure you that the one who stands before you is no illusion... and no imposter, either. I am, without a doubt, Jeanne d'Arc."

"To hear that from you, La Pucelle, brings tears to the eyes of this unworthy de Rais..." Gilles says, kneeling down before his old friend and commander. The way he's kneeling almost looks as if he is praying. The sight of Jeanne before him has a profound effect on his heart.

"Just what have I been doing all this time...?" he asks as his voice comes down to a mutter. "I have been lost for so long in depravity after accursed God stole your life. No matter for how long I sought for purpose in this world of cruelty, I had never found it. Except, I remembered it just one last time. The miracle that we were able to beckon upon France. There, in the Reims Cathedral."

This... well. This wasn't exactly unsettling as well, but it was still strange. Jeanne wasn't a stranger to people bowing before her, reaching out to her in reverence and treating her like some sort of messiah. But it still made her feel awkward, this even moreso considering their relationship n ages past.

But she couldn't focus on that. There were other things more important that must be addressed. And conveniently, the man brought one of those things up himself.

"I know of the atrocities you performed after my death, Gilles," Again, she speaks in that calm, even tone. But there's also a sort of hardness to it now. She grits her teeth momentarily, but continues on.

"I wish to hear what you have to say about those sins now, in person. And I beg you to be honest."

Gilles notices Jeanne's brief anger. There's no reason she wouldn't be angry. This indignation is to be expected. Though it frightened Gilles, it was in this moment he was reminded of why he regarded Jeanne d'Arc as living art. Beautiful in every regard.

"I... What I have to..." he repeats, thinking hard on the question. "I..." Why did he do what he did? Something had just briefly sparked in the mind of the madman. He tries his darnest to recall what it was. "Of course, I... why, Jeanne, why are you more focused on my sins? You speak as if I am a man who has been judged. The only person to receive God's cruel judgment was none other than you, Jeanne... you, whose heart shined through the depths to reach me.

What do you have to say about the God that betrayed you? That sentenced you for following His command?"

That, of course, hit a nerve. So he was turning Jeanne from the judge into the judged, was he?

"I was not betrayed by Him or His word," While most people would have yelled, Jeanne's voice is still calm, though wickedly sharp now. "How dare you insinuate that He would be so cruel to one that He has guided."

She inwardly flinches a little at the feel of her nails cutting into her palms; she wasn't aware her fists were clenched just that tightly.

"Do not dodge my request, Gilles. Answer me."

Caster's Dilemma

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