Church Ch 6 (redefine a sin)

[warmskies]

If there's one thing that Claude can say has progressed really well, it's Dimitri's efforts in (re)learning Fodlish. That, in turn, seems to help stabilize him.

Claude hadn't thought there was a connection, at first, but now it really can't be denied. It seems that the more he gives Dimitri, the calmer he becomes in the times that Claude is away. It's a far step from the frantic pacing Dimitri had done the first time Claude had gone off on a small task for the church, tense and thinking that Claude's return might only be another hallucination.

Claude's theory is - well, frankly, he's almost not sure if he can call it a theory. It almost seems more like simple base fact. What else is there for Dimitri to focus on in this place, besides Claude's visits, and anything he can leave behind? And if it helps, well... Claude is glad to keep pushing for it, and would be even without his plans being a factor.

So that's good. However, there is one thing that's stayed stagnant, and Claude would have to say it's Dimitri's perception of him.

Sure - he'll admit that he'd never be able to take on Dimitri if his old friend decided to grab at him through the bars. With those fangs, and sharp claws, and not even talking about the amount of strength that Dimitri has in him... Claude is well aware that, the second a person is grabbed by him, it's over. That's why so many people in the execution ring end up dying.

The best way to fight against Dimitri is to never fight him at all, and it would take a skilled fighter to put him down in a close combat battle. While Dimitri may not have formal training... He has years of experience from having to fight for his life like this. Combined with strength and speed, that's nothing to sneeze at.

Yet that doesn't mean Claude is weak, or in constant danger just because he makes calculated moves on being near to Dimitri. Trying to tell Dimitri that with words doesn't seem to be working, however. That's understandable, even if that doesn't make it any less frustrating.

So if words don't work...

Claude flexes his fingers as he makes his way through the halls of the church, feeling his muscles shift and ease up. Dimitri has never seen him with a bow before. He's never seen just how skilled he can be. This will be a good chance to show him, he thinks. The courtyard is meant for practice, after all. It would be a waste not to use it... and use it to his advantage, nonetheless. Maybe that will help Dimitri calm down a little, since words aren't helping him too much.

And... maybe he wants to show off a little. It's honestly kind of funny, Claude muses as he passes by a small troupe of children lead by an elder monk. In his whole life, he's always taken great care in how he shows off to other people.

A lot of it is necessary if he wants to be put in a position where he's too useful to treat too carelessly, but also, if he revealed just how good he is at everything else, well... It would draw attention to himself that he doesn't need just yet. But for Dimitri... For him, he really wants to show just how good he is. He wants to see Dimitri's eye widen, impressed, and maybe if he heard a compliment or something...

Maybe it won't happen. Maybe it will. Claude can't help being excited either way, a light bounce to his step as, for the first time, he steps into the sunny grounds of the courtyard with only a casual glance to Dimitri-

And then his gaze snaps back, landing on a light mark along the Voa's cheek.

All of his plans undergo an immediate and radical reconstruction as he slows his steps, and Claude takes in the rest of the scene that he's walked in on.

Including Dimitri, there are four people in the courtyard: Dimitri, a healer with a scowl upon her delicate face, a younger kid who looks like they're going to shake out of their skin, and.... Ah. Controller Erik. He suddenly has a whole lot of idea of just what might have happened here. Even as he continues his light step towards the group, Claude risks another quick glance in Dimitri's direction to ascertain his state.

The light scrape along his cheek doesn't seem to impede Dimitri's mouth as it curves into a sharp and jagged little grin of satisfaction. A similar mark appears to go all around his forearm a couple of times. Where Dimitri sits cross-legged, just at the front of his cell, a tray of food lays in front of him. No doubt it hasn't been touched since then; Claude can't see a single nibble on the stale old bread there.

Instead of bread or sloppy stew, Dimitri seems to be eating up the condition of the controller who is snapping at the healer: a little bit dirty, a little bit scruffed up, with a bruise clearly blossoming on his forehead and a short tear in the front of his shirt. A series of small tears, actually, too shallow and short to have been done by Dimitri's hands. There might be blood right there underneath it all, although Claude can't be for certain this far away. Regardless... He's not crying about it.

Erik always was the kind of coward who bent over backwards for Narcian, and the kind of guy who takes it out on whoever he thinks he can screw over - the marks on Dimitri's body as he sits mostly powerless behind metal bars, the way the kid with brown hair shakes like a leaf.

The only person who doesn't seem to be holding up for any of his nonsense would be the healer, a long golden ponytail flicking behind her head as she shakes it roughly. Claude makes it in on the tail end of her telling Erik off all the way down to the brain in his head being more like potatoes left in a pantry for five years. Which, creative, he'll give her that. And she's still doing her job, too! Healers really are people who deserve all the respect that can be given.

Claude acts as though he hasn't heard a single bit of it, approaching with a cheery wave and a smile. "Hey Erik!" he says, as if they're running into each other at the mess hall instead of Erik being taken care of by a healer who's doing her level best to preserve the man's good looks. A bit of a lost cause, in Claude's opinion. "Looks like you've got yourself an intern! Teaching her how valuable our healers are?"

It must be a cold smile that's on his face, Claude knows that for a fact. So many of his smiles don't have any genuine feeling to them, and he's in a bad mood; it must be worse than normal. Still, he tries to soften the smile when he looks to the kid - a girl, maybe? Short brown hair cut into a bob about her ears. She blinks, surprised at the attention - or maybe just taking a moment to adjust to his sudden presence in the conversation, like the other two are.

That pause only lasts a second, and the first one to break it is the healer, who crosses her arms with a huff. Apparently, Erik isn't so terribly injured that she can't take a break from making sure he isn't completely mauled. "A proper lesson in gratitude would involve giving me gifts, like honeycomb, or a beautifully spun blanket for the coming fall!"

Erik looks as though he desperately wants to plug his ears. Instead, he snorts, and the action sends a small splatting of blood to the ground which makes him wince. So a bloody nose to match that bruise on his forehead, got it. "Keep your tongue to yourself if you're going to be like that," he grumbles at the healer. "At any rate, there's plans to have this one, Dorothy, help with future executions once she's old enough. I thought it was best to get her firsthand experience with just what a monster she'll be dealing with."

So, in other words, he wanted to scare some poor kid, and harass Dimitri.

Claude looks over at Dimitri in feigned surprise, even as he takes in that his friend is watching all of this closely - maybe now that Claude is involved. It's nice to think that, anyway. Hopefully his friend can see the hint of humor in his eyes, and the invitation to enjoy the show that this is going to end up as. "You're telling me the demon did all of that to an experienced controller like you while he was still locked up? How did that happen?"

There's no direct insult to Claude's words, or in his shock... but there's absolutely something about his words, the way he purposefully empathizes certain things to lay out how obviously incredible the situation is... It almost gives it the flavor of insult all the same.

A lot of people would overlook it. Erik isn't one of those kinds of people, on the look out for insults even when there aren't any. His eyes narrow, lip curling along with the motion, and Claude can recognize the tone in his voice as he starts to speak. "Listen here, you-"

But hell hath no fury like a healer scorned, and she whirls in on Erik in a heartbeat. People in the farms outside of town can probably hear her voice. "Oh, no, go on!" Her shoulders square, not intending to be pushed back a single inch. "Explain! I could certainly tell the tale, but I wouldn't mind hearing properly the whole thing! Or maybe-" And she turns on the poor kid standing to the side. "You should tell it! You were there as well, weren't you? And I'm sure it must have been a lot more frightening for you, since you were dragged into it whether you liked it or not! And then maybe this arrogant and cocky fool will stay still while I heal him!"

And this is exactly why Claude has very rarely ever antagonized a healer in the long time that he's had to live with the church.

Their younger companion freezes up, shoulders hunched and gaze flicking constantly from person to person. When it's clear that there's no way out, she takes in a careful and deep breath to steady her nerves. "We... came to feed it. The demon, I mean. But it kept ignoring us, even when Controller Erik called at it. So Controller Erik said that... it needed to be reminded that it should respect us. Or else it would get out of control."

She pauses, taking a quick glance around the group as if looking for a way out, or an excuse to pass the explanation to someone else. No respite can be found from either Erik or the healer, while Claude continues to look thoughtful. When freedom is nowhere to be found, she keeps going. "So he used a whip - to get its attention. But before the whip could snap back, it-" And she pauses again, blinking at Claude as though realizing something belatedly. He smiles, encouragingly, she she gets back on track. "It grabbed the whip... and pulled it. Hard. Then, when Controller Erik slammed into the cage bars, the demon kicked out from between the bars."

Right as she falls silent, there's a deep and sharp sound that makes her jump, and twists the scowl on Erik's face even tighter. No doubt, unfamiliar with Voa as they all are, the noises Dimitri is making are intimidating things. Claude? He has to bite back his own laughter before it can join with Dimitri's.

Gods and stars and even some of the saints, if they really are listening, but it's been so long since he's been able to hear Dimitri's laughter. The first he's ever heard him laugh as an adult. His heart clenches that Dimitri still can at all.

Instead of giving into such impulses, Claude brightens as though he's discovered the solution to some riddle. "Oh, of course! I confess, Erik, you had me worried for a sec there. I mean, what with all the rumors and your track record of getting attacked by the demon more than pretty much anyone else, I was honestly a little concerned to see you training a kid... but it all makes sense now! It took me a minute to see what you were doing." He gives Erik the most inconspicuous wink in all of existence. "Very clever, though! I'm genuinely impressed!"

While Erik looks like he might choke on his own seething anger, Claude looks back to the kid. "If even someone like me can miss it, I think it's only fair to let you in on the training technique your mentor was using! See, he was actually showing you what not to do, and the consequences of being careless." Claude holds up an instructing finger, politely ignoring the way the healer is radiating smugness. "You see, like any experienced hunter such as myself knows, respect is indeed very important.

"But it's not about getting respect yourself; it's about showing respect to other things. Even the most peaceful creatures can be dangerous if they're approached with ignorance or arrogance, you know - or if you hurt or upset them. Hunters have been run down and gored by deer, after all, and deer are hardly what you'd call aggressive. So only a really foolish hunter, one who won't last long at his job, would needlessly provoke a deer, or approach one without proper understanding and respect for what one can do!"

There's a light wheeze to the side, the healer trying not to be too obvious and failing at inhaling the laugh she wants to make. Clapping a friendly hand down on the kid's shoulder, Claude smiles. "We should've realized it right away, you know! Imagine demanding respect from a demon that doesn't even understand our language - how would he ever be able to comply? Should've been a dead giveaway that Erik was having you on." Claude winks down at the poor apprentice suckered into this job,

"It just goes to show you how experienced Erik is that he could do everything wrong on purpose and get away with such light wounds! Let that be a lesson to you; imagine how badly the demon could mess up someone who wasn't as much of an expert as your mentor if they tried that sort of thing! It was probably kind of a scary lesson to learn that way, but that just means it'll stick in your head forever. Always approach your demon cautiously, don't provoke him if you don't need to, and never forget how dangerous he can be to you if you don't respect what he's capable of."

Off to the side, while he's understood maybe a quarter of everything that's been said, Dimitri couldn't look more smug at how the events have unfolded. The only other person who can match him is the healer, her arms crossed and confidently leaning back. The kid is just flickering her glance to all of them, and Erik.... His posture has become worse and worse with every word that's been said, the scowl on his face quite an ugly little thing, and yet he can't say a single word.

Even when Claude's own devilish gaze lands onto him, along with his final words. "You must train a lot of apprentices this way, huh?"

They both know that Claude has left him with only two choices here, with the narrative he's set up, and neither are really great for Erik's position... but going with the other would make him look even worse.

So the controller stands up abruptly, scoffing with his fists clenched at his sides. "Just learn well so that you don't get eaten up by that wretched thing," he snaps at the kid, once again indulging in more fear than actual help or education as his teaching method. "I'm off to change my clothing, so you just wait here until that demon finishes its food." With that, he whirls around and takes off before he can be humiliated any further. From behind his bars, Dimitri bares his fangs at Erik's retreating back.

Now that the controller is gone, the healer heaves out an even bigger sigh than anything she used while he was around.... And she didn't exactly hold herself back then, either. "If the saints could save us from the machismo of people like that!" she announces firmly. "It would be so much less work for me. Hey, you - Miss Apprentice. What's your name?"

The kid stiffens a bit, her hands held behind her back. "Oh - I'm Dorothy. Ma'm."

"Don't call me Ma'm," the healer whines. "I'm not nearly old enough to be thought of as an elder healer! Anyway... That ridiculous lout is likely just going to leave you here on your own for hours and not come back, so feel free to leave once the demon has finished eating, alright?" She looks over at Dimitri with a wrinkled nose. "Now I just have to deal with that..."

Her attention isn't returned. Now that the biggest tool in the box has left the courtyard, Dimitri's gone back to ignoring them all. Instead, he's more preoccupied with keeping his stale bread submerged in the stew.

Claude understands what she means, although she doesn't say it outright. Even from a distance, the scrape on his face and the mark around his arm where Erik's whip wrapped are still plainly visible. While the church may treat its "executioner" as something less than human, it can't be denied that Dimitri is integral to their practice. Without him to do their dirty jobs, they're left having to take care of "sinners" and "criminals" via the long term.

Sure, Claude has no doubt that they're scum enough to leave those poor souls in such miserable conditions that they would eventually perish from "natural" causes regardless... But why take the long route when they can go so much quicker with an executioner?

It's a big investment, and Dimitri can't be allowed to go into an execution at anything but his best. The "trial" he poses means little, if he's less. Well, that might be why people in the church care about keeping Dimitri in good health.... But Claude has other priorities.

"Would you like me to ask him to behave for you?" he asks, stepping away from the kid - Dorothy. When the healer quirks an eyebrow at him, Claude only grins in an almost apologetic way and shrugs his shoulders. "I've picked up a bit of demon language in my travels through less enlightened lands. I could probably get him to understand you're just trying to heal him, at least; I don't know why he'd get aggressive over something like that." He shifts his smile, makes it a little more charming for the healer. "And you look like you could use one less thing to worry about today."

Bingo. That last sentence is definitely enough to win her over, even if she pauses for a moment while twirling her ponytail inbetween her fingers. "You know, you really shouldn't go boasting about that kind of thing," she says, as though she isn't particularly pleased by Claude taking her into consideration. "The priests might hear and get all worked up." Obviously that doesn't count her, and she glances over to the cell again where Dimitri waits. "Still, I wouldn't mind seeing what you can do. That's a volatile one - word is that it's the most violent Executioner we've had in a while, although I wasn't even familiar with the previous one, so I can't say for certain. Besides, it ignores most people on the better days... As long as you don't harass it, of course."

Claude chuckles. "Of course. Even mild stags can gore a person. Although he might be in some kind of mood after intentional mishandling like that," he says, with the barest touch of ironic inflection on the word intentional. "So some precautions can't hurt. Precautions are really just a form of respect anyway." He grins at Dorothy. "Anyway, let's see what I can remember of their lingo..." And with that, he saunters in the direction of Dimitri's cell.

Wisely, Erik had retreated a good distance away - completely on the opposite end of the courtyard from Dimitri's cell, near the water pumps and some benches for those who want to take a break in the midst of their training. As Claude walks along, he looks over the ground. Not even a trace of blood splatter... Dimitri really was holding himself back in this case. Whatever Erik had to deal with, it clearly wasn't serious. Maybe he'd even made up more of a fuss in case the "demon" "infected" him with something.

Well, at least that puts Claude's heart at ease a little bit... It means that this will just be a minor incident that no one will bat an eye at, since everyone really should know how dangerous Dimitri can be at this point. And Erik was the one that Narcian threw under the cart wheels as well... That means chances are even better no one will pay him any mind. Claude can't feel too bad about it; Erik brought this onto himself and he's not even dead. Things are fine.

Stopping in front of Dimitri's cell, Claude draws down into a crouch. His friend is still holding the bread into the stew; does it really take that long for it to soften? Claude supposes he should be glad that it's not moldy or rotten. Another benefit for Dimitri, he supposes - the food may be far from the best in the world, but it will always be something Dimitri can eat without becoming ill.

"Hey," he greets casually in Voali, keeping his voice low and hard to hear so that it's not too audibly evident how fluent he is. Dimitri's cage is far enough away that a low-pitched voice isn't going to carry too well. As he speaks, Dimitri actually looks up at him with a surprised blink. Claude can understand why; they've never conversed like this in the light of day. "That bastard looked like he ended up a lot worse than you are, but you should still get healed up. I'd hate for him to have the satisfaction of scarring you."

"His pride seems scarred more," Dimitri says, with no small amount of self satisfaction.

Claude has to bite back a grin of his own, well aware that he's still being watched carefully by the healer and Dorothy. "Maybe so," he agrees. "Still, mind behaving for the healer? We're all united in our opinion that Erik is a pompous, incompetent jackass, and anyone who has to deal with that guy regularly deserves to have things made a little easier." Finally taking a risk, he offers a flicker of a smile to Dimitri. Just a flicker, gone within a flash; he doesn't want his friendliness to be too visible. "Not that I really think you needed to be asked that much, but it was a good excuse to come say hi."

"Just an excuse, is that so...?"

He winks. "Well, I was hoping you enjoyed the show; that guy is going to be fuming for weeks." All that pent up anger, and nowhere to direct it. How sad. Claude would like to think that it would encourage him to find a better way to relieve stress, but he doubts it would happen. For now, all that he's managed to accomplish is chasing him away for a short while. "But come on, how do you feel?"

At least Dimitri won't be bothered by one of the guys who apparently harasses him the most out of whole controller group... not that he seems bothered now as he finally removes his bread from the stew.

"Oh, so it's simply about this," he says, looking down at his arm. Even with pale fur like his, the bright burn of magic stands out, and moreso where it fades to black along his forearm and wrist. While he absolutely loathes him for the way that he treated Dimitri... Claude has to admit Erik at least had the sense to go after the arm that didn't have Dimitri's tattoo brand on it. "Mm... I don't care about those types of people." The slightest incline of his head towards the healer. "So.... fine."

No strong feelings towards healers, huh.... Claude stands up, dusting off his knees. That makes sense. Out of the types of people in the church, Dimitri's experiences with them have probably been some of the most positive that he could possibly have at all here. Second best are probably kids like Dorothy who are just here to give him food. All the healers want to do is likely fix him up when he gets injured from executions, and then leave him be with their job done.

"It probably wouldn't hurt to come closer to the bars to make her job easier," Claude says, and smiles. It's probably safe enough to do so- he is supposed to be "playing diplomacy with the demon", and whatnot. "I'll see you tonight, okay? But for now I need to get archery practice in, and I don't want to raise suspicions by paying you too much attention while people are watching."

The blonde healer and Dorothy both seem like perfectly nice people on their own... But even perfectly nice people talk, and these are people connected to the church, whether they like it or not.

Dimitri scoffs underneath his breath, but doesn't say too much as he tears into his bread some more. "They should come in here if they care so much," he mutters. Still, he seems to oblige well enough, shifting a little closer to the bars.

While Dimitri makes himself comfortable, Claude steps away from the cell. "I think I managed it!" he calls over to the healer, waving at her and Dorothy. "He seems like he understood, anyway, so I guess I must have used the right words. Should be fine now."

That's an easy thing to say for him, both in how he actually knows Dimitri and the fluency with which he can speak Voali. The healer doesn't seem quite so confident, glancing over at Dimitri with narrowed and wary eyes. Still, he really is on his best behavior... or at least some solidly neutral behavior that doesn't threaten anyone, with how he keeps his injured arm in front of him while picking up the stew with his free hand.

It's good enough either way. The healer finally steps forward with the knowledge that, if nothing else, Dimitri has placed eating food on a higher priority than harassing her. There's no need to worry about those claws of his, claws that Claude now knows quite well from when they'd once wrapped around his own throat with the tips lightly pressing against his skin. No, no need at all. Dimitri even raises up his injured arm, otherwise not even looking at her while he eats.

Taking in a steady breath, the healer holds out her hands. Claude watches as the tattoo on her chest - right above her breasts, curving in some aspects over her collarbone - lights up in the manner of a shooting star. It's a tattoo he also has across his own chest, in much the same way, although he rarely has cause to use it. Healers generally tend to other people, after all... And working with others is something he's done his best to avoid, out of a sense of his own safety and sometimes their own.

But he can't deny it's a beautiful sight.Light spreads along the marking on her chest, down to those inked all along her outstretched arms that she holds out towards Dimitri. The light burns and flickers across the markings on Dimitri's arm, his face, and it blows away like sand on the wind while leaving behind only a little bit of shorn fur in its wake. Only that, and nothing more. No scarring, no blood. Once Dimitri's fur grows back, it'll be like nothing ever happened, except a ripple of light once upon a time.

Dimitri's arm falls to rest along one knee again, and the healer steps back with a relieved exhale. "For once, I don't have to deal with any of its snarling and nastiness!" she says cheerfully, put into quite a good mood from how much more smoothly this has gone in comparison to dealing with Erik. "There wasn't even any of its usual incoherency. Maybe I should ask you to join the healers. It could be so much easier to deal with him during executions then!"

"I'll keep your generous offer in mind," Claude says, still smiling and with no intention to look into it at all. In a couple of months, if even that, he won't even be in the city anymore... Not for a while. All he needs to do is a little more work, a little more investigation into certain people... "Anyway, I imagine you must have had a lot more important things to do than fuss over Erik, right?"

The healer sighs, one hand held delicately to her face as though she is but a precious flower who has expended all her energy. It reminds Claude just a little bit of a dear friend, although Hilda doesn't have quite so feisty a temper. "I do... I suppose I can't really take a break for too long." She looks over him, lips pursed. "I'm Clarine. Let me know if that ridiculous man throws a fit again, won't you? And that goes for you too, Dorothy."

Dorothy jerks her head in a nod, and that's apparently enough for Healer Clarine. With a tired wave that no doubt gives away just how much work healers have to do in this church, Clarine finally takes her leave. With her absence, the only people in the courtyard now are Claude, Dorothy, and Dimitri, who's firmly ignoring all of them as he picks through his food.

Claude glances at the kid with some genuine curiosity; what's her takeaway of everything she's seen and heard today? Of course, the second the thought forms itself in his mind, Claude has to follow through with it. "So what do you think of all of this?" he asks. "I'm just a hunter, and an outsider at that. I'm in no position to judge you if there's anything you want to say. Or ask." 

Off to the side, within his cage, Dimitri makes a light snort. Claude thinks he can make out the faint mutter of words - "And there it begins." Good to know that his friend understands enough Fodlish to get a hang of that, at least. Still, it's not just because he's nosy. For example, while he took a great deal of pleasure in it, his actions before weren't just to humiliate Erik. it's just like that.

Dorothy is only a kid, in the end, although she'll become an adult one day... And that means she's a part of the future of this church. If what just happened can be a firm idea planted in the head of someone who might become a future controller, whatever that may mean in the future after he gets Dimitri out of here... Maybe, at the very least, he can seed the idea to not mistreat Voa. It's not much, and it probably won't have any lasting effect - not one incident in a lifetime of indoctrination.

But.... He needs this. He needs to keep doing things like this, and to think that one day it might have an effect on people for the better. Only a little while ago did he tell Dimitri the exact same thing: He needs dreams of tomorrow being better than today, and today being better than yesterday, in order to keep breathing in this harsh world.

Having apparently settled herself off to the side while waiting for Dimitri, Dorothy jolts. "Oh- you're talking to- okay," she says, words stumbling out of her mouth awkwardly. She glances around, as though checking that it's really her being spoken to - or maybe just to confirm that it's only the two of them alone in this conversation for now. Frankly, Dorothy seems like the nervous and awkward type to begin with, so it could honestly be anything. Claude has a suspicion it's exactly why Erik felt so confident in harassing her out of anyone who could have been made an apprentice.

When the silence stretches out too long, Claude begins to stretch out his arms - you know, give her a little space while he does his own thing so that she doesn't feel pressured into the conversation. So, of course, that's when she decides to speak up suddenly. "You - kept calling the demon a 'him'." When Claude's only reaction is to simply blink, she hesitates a moment before forging onwards. "I was wondering... How can you tell?"

Right... While some Voa prefer being referred to with that kind of pronoun, Claude knows that's not the intent with which members of the church use it. This is probably the first time she's ever heard someone refer to Dimitri as just a person instead of a thing, like one might call a dog, at best, or a tool, at worst.

At least it's a pretty easy answer to give. Claude chuckles. "Well, male Voa - that's what they call themselves, Voa. They tend to have horns. The females often don't. I'd like to say that the males have a little more muscle mass as well, but it honestly tends to vary by individual. Of course, there are also females with horns, just like there are males without." And then, a little white lie - "I'm honestly taking a shot in the dark based on percentages. It might just be my personal feelings on the matter, but I feel kind of strange calling anything that can understand me an 'it'. That's a bit of a controversial opinion here, however."

Controversial enough that he'd probably get in at least a little trouble formally and, more frustrating to him, be seen as even more of an outsider... After all the work he's done to integrate himself with other people here, that would set him back in a truly aggravating way.

Dorothy seems like someone fine to talk to about this, fortunately, and she's still staring at him, listening intently. Claude continues. "Of course, if you speak a little Voali, you could always ask them if you're not sure," he says, putting a hand on his hip and looking over to Dimitri. His friend definitely doesn't seem to care about the conversation that's happening, despite his commentary from earlier, and is instead working on his stew. "That's also something the church frowns on, but, from where I'm standing, isn't it a useful skill to have? It makes your job easier. That's one of the reasons I learned it."

Still tentative, but with an undeniable curiosity about her, Dorothy looks over to Dimitri's cell. "Making the job easier... He did really calm down," she mutters, more to herself than in expectation for Claude to respond.

So it's taking root. Claude keeps his smile on his face. "Mind you, I'm not encouraging you to break the rules or anything..." There, his safety. Although he supposes he takes that away again with his next words - "You should never do anything because someone tells you to, Dorothy. It's important to make your own choices."

Well, while he might be saying all of this, it's a lot to ask of a kid who's been raised by this church. He understands that, and why her shoulders hunch up a little bit. "Controller Erik and the others-"

Another sharp and sharp bark of laughter from Dimitri. Dorothy grimaces and jolts.

When it's clear that Dimitri has no further... contributions to this particular discussion, Dorothy continues on with one last awkward glance at him. "They say that demons are just soulless monsters, and so it... doesn't matter."

Yeah, he bets they did. "You shouldn't believe something just because someone tells you to, either." Claude smiles down at her, wondering how much of this will stick, for how long. It'd be nice if even for only a little while. "If that's what you come to believe on your own, through your own experience and observations, then that's one thing.

"But if you're just believing someone else... How do you know for sure if they're right or not, if you never look yourself? And if they are right in what they told you, then there's no reason confirming it should hurt. Questions should never be dangerous, because knowing what's true shouldn't be dangerous."

Frankly, when he'd made that joke weeks ago about how he was thinking of becoming a teacher... Well, maybe it has some basis in fact, he has to admit as he watches Dorothy turn the advice over in her head. It feels like he's always doing this, finding little cracks to try and plant the seeds for a better tomorrow. It's not glorious or fast work, but, well... It's all he can do, as an individual working on his own for the time being.

Dorothy looks up again, having thought things through enough apparently. "When I've asked questions before..." She pauses, uncertain, and Claude can't blame her. All he can do is wait patiently and keep smiling, until she feels a little more confident in order to keep going. "The priests don't always like it..."

"Of course... It's definitely another opinion the church finds controversial," Claude sighs, running his hand through his hair. "So don't feel like you need to follow my advice. Not unless the answers you want feel important enough to be worth getting in trouble for." Another smile, this one a little more lazy. "Anyway, don't mind me too much. Just some foreigner ramblings, as I'm sure more than a few people will tell you here, including Controller Erik." He may have been able to make a lot of friends here, and has left a good impression on others... But some impressions or ideas don't wash away that easily.

Before Dorothy can do much more than nod, a loud clatter breaks through their conversation, and Claude looks over towards the sound. It's just Dimitri, dropping his now empty bowl to its tray. That's cue enough for Dorothy. She hastily grabs a long pole with a small hook on the end of it, and trots over. Faintly, as he watches her trot over to Dimitri's cell, he wonders how many times that pole has been yanked away from controllers that Dimitri doesn't like, or when he's been in a mood....

That's not something either Claude or Dorothy has to worry about today, apparently. For all that he's mildly fucked up one controller today, Dimitri seems to recognize that Dorothy isn't anyone worth bothering. Instead, he sprawls out in what sun filters through the cell bars. It's not a position of complete relaxation - Claude still see how he's keeping his good eye facing outwards to no doubt keep an eye on Dorothy as she hooks the tray. But... it's good enough.

Poor kid had to be expecting the worst from him, because she sends Dimitri a puzzled glance. But then, as she's leaving with pole and tray in hand, she sends a very similar glance at Claude before disappearing into the hallway.

It's hard not to be amused watching Dorothy run off, and Claude is sure that it must show on his face. At the same time... A little bit of regret pings inside of his chest.

Is this all he can do for a girl like that? Someone who seems perfectly nice, and is trying her best? Is that all he can do for Dimitri right now, making one of his caretakers be at least not so antagonistic even if the best case scenario is likely just wariness and apathy instead? There's... honestly a lot to regret, and a lot to worry about. Just thinking about it... completely exhausts him.

Claude shakes his head, and in turn shakes off the mood he was starting to fall into. He didn't come here to feel miserable for himself or Dimitri or their situations. Shooting Dimitri a quick smile, Claude turns instead to the targets arranged before him. Taking a deep breath, he presses his palms together - both at right angles, as though in prayer.

Feeling the way magic surges through him, through the tattoos inked onto his arms, is always going to be such an experience. Claude can't help marvel at it every time, and how differently it feels to summon his bow in comparison to the rare times he's ever healed someone. Maybe it's because he's done it so little, but healing always makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, an electrical current rattling through his body. It's the effect of something meant to fundamentally change the body, even if it's for the better.

Weapons are easier, the bright red light which blossoms from his tattoos and materializes into something solid as he pulls his palms apart. It's simple and clean, like a rush of wind going down and through his limbs without moving even a single hair... and then taking form into the shape of a brilliant bow of red light, thrumming and warm in his hand. There's even the string... and the arrows are soon to come, once he gets back into practice.

Claude idly tests it for a few moments, pulling the string back partway so that he can satisfy himself with the draw. There's no need to worry, as always... but it never hurts to check. It can still manifest perfectly in his hands, with no imperfections. Both his tattoos and his own skill in using magic are perfectly fine still. Satisfied with the result, he nods to himself, and turns towards the practice targets that wait for him in the courtyard.

It's a set up perfectly perpendicular to Dimitri's own cell; he'll get a perfect view of just what Claude can do.





With that nuisance out of the courtyard, along with the child, everything falls silent once again for Dimitri, and he takes what little pleasure he can in the moment.

It's times like these that he can appreciate silence, instead of being tormented by it. Things could be much worse. The injuries he'd taken from that magic hadn't really meant much, he knows, and he'd taken a lot more satisfaction in seeing the way that human's face had contorted in pain when Dimitri had slammed him against the bars... But still. Dimitri knows it could be like that every day, and that it could be far more intense. In comparison to all of that... the silence is a blessing.

Well, it's not a perfect silence. As he lays there, taking in the warmth of the sun while his stomach lays mostly full, Claude is still there before him. It's strange, to see Claude in full daylight.

It... suits him, Dimitri thinks, and finds himself surprised at the revelation for some reason. All this time, they've only been able to talk in the dead of night. That is when no one else has ever been awake, and could not stumble onto someone breaking the rule of speaking with a 'demon'. Thus, there's never been any need before for Claude to step into the courtyard during the daytime. In fact, as far as Dimitri can tell, it's usually been for the better if he doesn't.

And for the first time... Dimitri stares at him, and finds that almost regretful. He'd noticed it the very second Claude had stepped into the courtyard, with the sun warming up that brown skin of his and making his hair seem even blacker than usual in comparison to everything around it. Claude's eyes have always been a stunning green. With proper sunlight... Dimitri can remember what spring looks like.

It's amazing how much changes with so little... something that Dimitri could say in regards to not only the way sunlight glitters along Claude's dark hair, but even earlier than that, when he had first begun to approach the controller - that 'Erik'. Dimitri knows many of Claude's smiles well, now, and, even at a distance, he had been able to see the subtle shift that had gone through it. While his lips may have been curved into a smile, there had been nothing but iciness in his eyes. A sharpness to his posture that Dimitri suspects had gone ignored by everyone but him.

On an instinctual level, Dimitri knew and still knows that it was a dangerous look. While he's never seen his - friend go out hunting, Dimitri can recognize that it had absolutely been the look of a hunter coldly sizing up prey with the intent to spread their guts upon the ground.

Unfortunately, Erik is still in possession of all of his organs inside of his body, with not a single scar thanks to the effort of the healer. On the other hand... Dimitri watches as Claude recovers from whatever thoughts were roaming inside of his head, his hands a soft clap as they meet.

It's strange to see his tattoos so clearly, sunlight revealing the brilliant red along his skin. Normally, they fade into nonexistence the nights that Dimitri sees him. Their color doesn't show so well in the dark. What's even stranger is watching them burn into existence, red light flaring along his arms before concentrating between his hands.

Red ink. Red light. Neither suit him, Dimitri decides, even if he can respect how smoothly the bow of light forms in Claude's hands.

But that not-smile from earlier? That had suited Claude, in a fascinating way. Dimitri had done his best to follow along, even if his Fodlish isn't that good enough to do such a thing. It had been so easy to get distracted by the sight of Claude's movements, his exaggerated shrugs and obnoxious winks. It had been bright and sharp and charming, all at once, a thing which bloomed all the more at Erik's rage.

Something about that moment is still clinging to Claude's person as he walks across the courtyard until he's a good distance away from the targets. Farther than most humans Dimitri has seen come in here to practice with their own bows, whether of wood or of light. Normally so relaxed, his posture straightens, and he reaches down casually to the string of his bow. There, twisting into existence, comes an arrow made of that same passionate red light. Claude draws it against the string as though he feels nothing, until it's pulled all the way back.

The shot is quick, decisive, and hits close to the center, as far as Dimitri can tell. Certainly from the position he can see, it doesn't go too low or too high. More important is Claude's own assessment of his skill, seeming satisfied. He draws a few more times, a spark of light shimmering down his arms with every new arrow. The light illuminates perfectly the curve of his muscles as they relax and tense, and sparks down at Claude's agile fingers as that light forms yet another arrow.

Faintly, Dimitri wonders what that means, for Claude to feel so at ease that he's not even starting out with suppressing his magic. Others he's seen, when they summon their weapons, can calm down that level of brightness... but Cladue isn't doing so. He must be able to, Dimitri supposes, even as he sees another blur of red light sink into the target. Maybe there's something deeper that he's just not understanding...

Another smooth draw of the arrow, the string. Dimitri had known, in theory, what it had meant for Claude to be a hunter. He had known, in theory, that it meant he was talented in combat. It's another thing to see that theory, that formless idea, be put into physical practice. Dimitri's one good eye stays trained on him, nowhere else, as Claude once again pulls his arm back patiently.

Dimitri doesn't think he'll ever forget the sight that Claude makes, there in the sunshine: clever fingers folding into air and then against an arrow, the ease and tension of his muscles, Claude's profile so sharp and brilliant when properly illuminated.

Something rolls in the pit of his stomach because of it. Dimitri flicks his gaze away, but it's only a moment before he looks back. He's just in time to see Claude casually switch the bow's positioning, now using the opposite hand to pull the string and arrow back with just as much ease as before. His marksmanship doesn't suffer for it... and neither does the way he looks.

It... hasn't escaped Dimitri that Claude is attractive. He's only missing one eye, not both. Now that he hasn't been fighting Claude's existence, Dimitri has been slowly coming to terms with this simple objective fact.

At night, he's an appealing shadow that slips across the courtyard and to Dimitri's cage - lips curled in that familiar smile, moonlight catching the green of his eyes until they don't seem like a color that should be real. The crossing of lines between his warm friendliness on most nights and that darker weight which comes occasionally has been alluring in ways that Dimitri can't explain.

All of that combined has only drawn Dimitri closer and closer, no resistance now. With so much revealed in the light of the sun, that allure has only grown stronger. Multiple pieces, all added together in the space of a single afternoon : the sharp green of his eyes as they're focused on either a target or person, the different ways his smile shifts depending on who he's talking to and what about, the graceful curve of his fingers, the outline of his muscles with every piercing shot.

It would be one thing if Claude simply practiced shooting straight into the target's center. However, of course things cannot be that easy. Apparently, shooting the target straight in the middle is far too simple for Claude, and not truly giving him the exercise or practice that he needs to be at his best.

It's a variety of little things that Dimitri almost doesn't notice - not because he's unobservant but because he's become far too used to the schedule that they've established with each other. But he does notice. He notices how the burning red of magic starts to dim, little by little, with every arrow notched and sent flying. He notices how Claude begins to lean back, or to the side, or draws himself down into a crouch where he has to adjust the way he holds his bow.

Being able to wield his bow with whichever hand was impressive enough. Yet all of this is more than simply how well he can use his bow. This is a practice for all the awkward and complicated positions which come into existence out in real practice, against other living things.

Dimitri can't recall some things about his old life... but others he can recall far better. He can recall clambering about through forests back home, along small fields, jumping through shallows or creeks with friends who'd smile back at him. That had all been in the name of playing. In the name of hunting... Sitting quiet and still for hours, reacting on the fly to fleeing prey or competing predators...

Claude is anticipating all of this - or maybe he's already become intimately familiar with those moments, Dimitri realizes as he watches Claude leap back and raise his arrow high to the air. It's an arcing shot, steep and high, that nevertheless succeeds in sinking right down into the target once again.

The targets are all positioned at a slight angle for archers - hunters or otherwise - to practice just that. Dimitri has watched them on occasion plenty of times in the past, for lack of anything else to do during the daytime. Yet... he's rarely seen other archers take such shots. Only the most skilled hunters, ones that have other people in the church nodding at them respectfully or clustering around them for advice.

That Claude might be among their number is.... strange to think about. Stranger is his reaction as Claude surveys his practice with satisfaction, one hand sweeping back into his hair. In the pit of his stomach, Dimitri feels a hunger stirring, different from the hunger he'd felt only an hour ago while waiting for his meal. He shifts his position, stomach to the ground with his face pressing down against his crossed arms.

His blood feels hot. There's something stirring throughout his whole body as he watches Claude practice, his friend apparently not even paying him any mind. Does he even know Dimitri is watching him? He doesn't act like it, and Dimitri can only be thankful for that little fact. Dimitri has no idea what he can even do about the sensation going through his body right now... besides trying to, best he can, smother it completely and literally.

Yet it's not only his blood that's warm. All around him, the sunlight lays like a comforting blanket where he is stretched out across the ground that comfortably absorbs all that heat. It's the perfect balance, a perfect a day as he's going to get while trapped here. Dimitri does his best to fight against it, opening his eyes whenever he's become aware of how long they've been shut... but some things aren't as easy to fight as his matches down in the killing ring.

Eventually, to the sound of Claude's arrows hitting their mark, Dimitri falls asleep.





The sun is warped from beneath the water. It still shines as brightly as it does on land, of course, and it hurts for Dimitri to look straight at it a little bit, but it appears warped as the waves move and curl high above. Dimitri likes it. There's a peace underneath water, a calmness that settles down his frantic emotions. The sand presses up between his toes, flowing along this feet. He knows where he's going as he walks on the ocean bottom, even if he doesn't know it, exactly. It's fine.

Eventually, the sand gets exchanged for smooth river rocks, and the river rocks shift into seashells of all sorts. Dimitri remembers collecting them as a child, marveling with his friends as the round smoothness of clam shells and the curling spirals of snail shells and the horn-like ones which could belong on a unicorn. All of them are there beneath his feet, a mosaic of color that feels like home. Faintly, Dimitri wonders if he could give one as a gift, just like when he was small, but with the intentions all changed around.

Movement. A shadow. He tilts his head up, and watches as a swordfish flicks its tail through the water. It's so agile and large, out of even his reach even if he tried to jump. Dimitri almost doesn't, for that reason alone. What's the point. And yet.... He watches it a moment longer, the way it curves smoothly through the water and sunlight shines along its brilliant long fins. It's beautiful, and strange.

Something in his chest clenches, and Dimitri crouches down with a flick of his tail that rattles along the floor of seashells. The swordfish doesn't seem to notice. It continues to simply swim above him, content with its life in a way that he envies. Legs tensing, Dimitri waits for just the right moment before he leaps upwards with all his might and claws outstretched.

The swordfish snaps its tail through the waters, and slides out of his reach. Scowling as he floats back down to the floor, Dimitri clenches his claws and follows after it. He tries a few more times, each attempt a failure. Still, he doesn't give up. Dimitri flattens his ears as much as they can go, and leaps again.

Something crimson suddenly pierces the swordfish, all the way through, and it goes still. It falls limply into his grasp, a creature as big as he is even not counting the sword on its face, and Dimitri holds it close to his body as he slowly floats back down. As he does so, he looks around, and soon finds exactly who he's looking for before his feet touch the ground.

Claude looks even more beautiful underneath the water, sunlight sending water patterns all along his skin and reflecting along his inky black hair. Maybe it's because of the depth of the ocean, but his green eyes look even brighter down beneath the water. He has one of those charming smiles on his face again, a little more honest than his teasing ones but only a little. When Dimitri finally reaches the ground, he trots across the seashells and holds out their catch to Claude eagerly.

Together, they dig in, enjoying the fresh taste of fish that fills the mouth all the way down. It's been so long, and yet it still tastes as good as it did years and years ago. There's not even bones left when they finish, and Dimitri... actually smiles back at Claude, enjoying that way he smiles back with his braid drifting idly in the ocean currents. Things are nice, like this. He doesn't want it to end.

Clearly, Claude is of the same mind as he is. He reaches over and takes him by the hand, pulls him up onto his feet. The ocean doesn't go on forever, despite seeming very much like it should. Eventually, they find a sandy path amongst all the seashells, and that path leads them eventually to a smoothly structured home. It's like a series of boxes all connected together, with a more circular tower-like one attached on one end. There's a large arch as a part of it, meant to protect against the rain, and underneath that small not-quite-tunnel-like area is the door leading inside. Claude smiles at him over his shoulders, tugging him inside.

There's no shimmering underwater light inside the home. It's just... sunlight. Relaxing, warm, afternoon sunlight, filtering in through the bars of the sole high window up against one wall. It's Claude's room, simple and plain, even down to the door with a window of its own similar to that wall across from it. Dimitri hardly glances at any of it, even if he knows what it looks like from top to bottom. All of his attention is ensnared on Claude, who smiles at him from underneath those beautiful long eyelashes of his.

What is he supposed to do? Dimitri doesn't know the answer to that question. He only knows what he wants to do, and what's too much temptation for him to resist. Claude's body is so supple beneath his massive palms, his claws, and his friend doesn't resist at all as Dimitri gently pushes him down onto the floor. Dimitri has seen Claude in a dozen different ways by now, playful and sharp and quiet and hopeful.

It's just the first time he's ever seen him like this: the way his curly hair sprawls in short waves along the floor, and his green eyes eager and warm as they look up at Dimitri. It makes his blood burn and his heart ache. It almost doesn't feel like a choice so much as the natural conclusion when Dimitri leans down to press their mouths together.

Underneath his own mouth, Claude's is soft and pliant, wanting, and the world fades, becomes vague and disconnected as Dimitri pushes further. His teeth, Claude's throat. Hands, to stomach. He slots between his legs so neatly. Warm. He's always so *warm*. Warm, and tight, fingers pressing down against his fur and curling against his neck, into his hair, and-





Dimitri's entire body jolts, a missed step in a dream kicking out physically with his own feet, and he startles awake to night's relaxed darkness. Dazed and bewildered, he pushes himself up onto his knees. It's more a force of habit than anything else that has his ears flick up, taking in the noise of the church.

While it may be dark, the sun having sunk behind buildings and whatever else lies beyond that, there's still noise off in the distance, and he thinks he can see the faint light of torches and lamps. It must be around dinnertime for the people of this place, then. Soon after that, they'll sleep... like what he woke up from.

Except maybe not quite like what he woke up from, and Dimitri rubs at his face. His brain doesn't feel quite right, sleep still clinging to parts of it as he does his best to wake. What... was that? He frowns a little, falling back into a kind of drowsiness now that he's had a moment to recover from that sudden strange jolt that had woken him up in the first place.

Dreaming... isn't normally a pleasant affair for him. Of course, that doesn't mean it's always unpleasant either. Oftentimes, he doesn't dream at all, or, when he does, he only wakes up with vague feelings instead of any idea of what he had dreamed about.

Sometimes, they're... nightmares, he supposes would be the right term, although he's not sure if they can really be called as such. They're simply constant replays of the murder he's already done, victims dying again and again under his bloody claws. That's practically his reality; there's no reason to be terrified over them. Rarer still are the nostalgic dreams, memories spread out for him again in his sleep....

But all of that? Dimitri rubs his hands against his face, trying to both wake up a little more even as he's trying to remember the details of his dream. There had been a swordfish, yes, and somehow he'd been underwater, kind of, but that's all... He doesn't think that's particularly strange? What had been strange had been stumbling upon his childhood home, stepping into a room that he can now, in hindsight, identify as the room the church had initially kept him in as a child, and...

....Something is straining against the inside of his pants.

...Oh.

Dimitri feels every single hair on his body stand straight up, and he snaps his head around to reconfirm that he truly is alone in the courtyard. It's a little ridiculous to check, on one hand, because of course Claude wouldn't have stayed the entire time after he'd fallen asleep - the daytime rules are different than the nighttime ones. Still, he suddenly and rather frantically needs to make absolutely positive of this fact before he looks down at the bulge in his pants with some amount of dismay.

A part of him almost wonders if he should mock himself for suddenly becoming so self conscious now. This is hardly the first time that his body has reacted in such a fashion in all the time that he's been here. Certainly it's not been a regular occasion, but... it's not been an odd one, either. Sometimes it's simply happened for no reason that he could understand, in times much like this, when he'd woken up after a long sleep. There were other times where it would be the aftermath of an execution, and his adrenaline had nowhere else to go except, apparently, down.

All of that had been mindless, happening without his interest or care or intent. He'd treated it likewise, waiting for it to go down or turning his back to the open air of the courtyard to get rid of it as quickly as he could. Maybe once upon a time, when he was young and still new to the cruel way he was being treated, he would have felt more shame and embarrassment about it... But that's a part of his life that's long since passed. It's not as though he ever has privacy out in this cage anyway.

That's how it's been for so long. Yet now... A surge of embarrassment burns through his body like a wildfire, overwhelming every little bit of him from mind to heart. What is he supposed to do about this? Why did it happen now? With Claude? Desperately, with his ears twitching violent from where they've flicked downwards, Dimitri tries to tear through what he can recall of his dream to try and figure out exactly what the two of them had done together.

So they'd kissed. Dimitri understands that - he knows what that is. He'd seen that when he was a child, understood people did it with those they loved. He's seen it happen occasionally outside his cage by the occasional daring couple who'd used his reputation as a means to keep others away so that they could exchange some meager affection. Depending on the individuals involved, he'd throw rocks at them. Then, in his dream, he'd pushed Claude to the ground... and he'd bitten him....

Dimitri rubs at his face some more, and his claws slide upwards until he can curl them around his horns in frustration. How did that make sense? Why had he felt the need to be on top of Claude like that? Wouldn't biting hurt? Once upon a time he may have wished Claude to get hurt, if only so that the other would understand why is was such a terrible idea to give him such care.... But he doesn't feel like that anymore.

Now, when he thinks of hurting Claude - Claude, who patiently waited before him with no expectations. Claude, who reached out with his hand so soft and warm inbetween his. Claude, who's pointed out the stars and all their names to him, the night sky reflected dazzlingly in his eyes...

His grip tightens around his horns before Dimitri lets go, pushing himself up onto his feet awkwardly; the make of his pants isn't meant for a Voa. Every move he makes has it rubbing terribly against the bulge he's sprouted. Still, Dimitri perseveres, turning on his feet so that he can begin a restless pace from one wall of his cell to the other. He doesn't want to hurt Claude, he knows that, and yet when he thinks of the way that he'd sunk his teeth against the tender curved flesh of his neck...

A pulse goes off inbetween his legs, making him stumble, and Dimitri bristles once again. Ordinary walking isn't going to cut it, he sees. Doing his best to power through the discomfort, he begins to walk even faster, not caring that his tail whips back behind him occasionally to smack into  the walls of his cage.

All right, so thinking about the way he'd bitten down on Claude is ill advised for right now, he'll save that for later. But what about what had come after that? When he'd- And Claude's legs had been around him -

Why can't he remember any further details about any of that!?

Yet while his mind seems to have some difficulties figuring out what it had concocted, if it had made any details at all, Dimitri's body has no such issues. Just thinking about the situation, no matter how vague it was, is enough to get his body heated up all the more, and that place between his legs only seems to ache harder.  Snarling into the empty courtyard and his almost equally empty cage, Dimitri quickens his pace. Thinking about it does him no good - he's just going to have to wear out his own body and mind so that they both cease this sort of thing.

It's... a goal that's easier said than done. Every little movement of his legs makes his pants grind up further, sending pleasure uncomfortably building and which he refuses to pay any mind to. Yet while he may not be taking care of it, it certainly is affecting him. Every jolt or underlying current of pleasure only makes his mind go back to that dream, and how Claude had looked with that hazy and pleased expression on his face, the flush that had darkened his skin-

Two legs isn't enough. Dimitri realizes that quickly, and takes to all four of his limbs as he races about his cage. No matter what, he has to destroy his current state, quickly as possible, before Claude comes to visit him. He has to.

Say that as he may, it takes a very long time to accomplish.