The door was there, mocking him. It was a reminder of everything he had worked to avoid. He had never wanted to step through this particular type of door. He’d always been nervous about them, prisons. Who could possibly say why? It wasn’t as if he were a swindler of swindlers, the man who was a confidence man to fellow con-men. It wasn’t as if this was the exact type of situation he never, ever ever wanted to find himself in at any point. And yet here he was, about to walk through this door to see someone else that had managed to get themself into the same mess Tarot had more or less feared he would wind up in for the past--well, really ever since the Calamity. He sighed and murmured the bruised statement that had tumbled its way through the ages; “What would it hurt?” And then he was through the threshold and looking at the bound and gagged and--they really had done a number on him, hadn’t they? Or rather, hadn’t he. That was the thing, wasn’t it? Mountain wasn’t here because of anything or anyone but himself but--and this was what Tarot half-suspected ever since the nasty bit with Rysswilf--Mountain’s punishment wasn’t imposed by the law or the Company or anyone. No one but himself. Mountain was many things but Tarot had a solid and sneaking suspicion that the man was not the kind to take undue punishment. The Agents were his responsibility but Mountain also was very good at avoiding damage or blame when he wanted to avoid it. This was--it had to be--something more. Self-flageralation, he believed it was called in Ishgardian circles. As the door shut behind him, Tarot looked at the Roe in silence, doing his best to try and pick what to say exactly. What was there to say? He could always go with the tried and true ‘I told you so’ but that would be expected and a bit boring. Maybe something like, ‘I won’t take up too much of your time since I can see you’re a bit tied up at the moment’ but he felt that somehow that would come back later to haunt him. That left--ah yes, this would do nicely. “You know, in Amdapor, there’s a several constructs that are interesting. You’ve probably read about them, but they’re called kuribu which some people think are actually creatures themselves. Pretty looking, which is probably why people made statues of them that can kill a man with Cure. Anyroad, I did some digging and apparently, kuribu are sort of the opposite of Voidsent. Holy and goodly and protectors and all that.” Tarot made his way forward towards the bound and stricken Mountain as he spoke, drawing close but not too close. Respect was important in situations like this. There’s a few stories of them coming into contact with mortals to grant them a second chance--another go at things. They also swoop in sometimes at the last minute and save the hero’s life or blast the evil-doers into dust or whatever.” Honestly it was a loose translation since in most cases this was guesswork done by scholars on translations but it sounded pretty good right now. “The thing is, Blue, they’re supposed to be in touch with Hydaelyn herself--or the gods or whatever--” he repeated the ‘whatever’ to drive home that this wasn’t much to him. His tone was conversational, the sort of tone you used while speculating with a companion if there was a meaning to the universe while you were preparing to indulge in your third or fourth hit of a questionable substance. “And like I said, they come in and tell the hero that they’re all free and clear and redeemed and able to continue on with their story.” He folded his arms and looked at the ex-Director with a smile that went unseen but no doubt was felt. ‘Trust me’ said this particular smile. “So I just want you to think about that while I reminisce for a bit.” He took a seat on the floor, folding his legs up and giving the ceiling an appraising glance. He had lived for this moment--the chance to sit and tell Mountain, Big Blue, everything he thought about him. How he thought he was a worse swindler and crook than even Crooked Tarot--how he’d actually been a bit jealous that he’d managed to schnooker everyone for so long. That he, Tarot, had the high ground on this point since he, Tarot, had been honest. He told people he was tricky and yet they still trusted him. But that was because he--well, he wasn’t Mountain. Dissimilar eyes glanced up at the Roe and he considered his options. “You have to know that people would start to see a pattern, Blue. Ever since the Corporation you’ve been doing this--this awful little circle of climbing up and falling down.” He traced the circle with his finger a few times to exercise the point. “You were in charge, you have a slip-up and get knocked down, you get up again and say, for all intents and purposes, no one’s ever gonna keep you down.” He leaned forward, murmuring quietly, “But we know different. You will get knocked down again but it always happens. The Corporation, Rysswilf and now this. You can go on and on about the Company. You can rail and rant and smoulder and be smug until you’re blue in the face but I don’t think that’s all there is to this.” He felt his features soften as he sat back again, fingers idly playing with the hem of his pant legs. “You’re doing this because of you. That’s what I think. I think you--feel this is necessary for yourself. I have a few guesses why but the truth is the ‘Why’ doesn’t matter in the long run.” His voice dropped off again, quiet and almost introspective. “You did help me though. Because of you, I started to see where my train of thought was going off the rails.” Gold-tinged eye turning up, he leaned back and planted his hands on the ground behind him. “You can’t treat people like they’re anything but people. That’s what I learned from you. Also that you can’t make happiness for others. You can give them all the pieces--blankets and food and medicine. Roof over their heads. But the moment you start actually trying to make their happiness and tell them what’s good for them is when things turn bad. You stop seeing people as people that that’s...probably about as evil as it gets.” And he had been like that; he had gone those first few years so set on buying whatever he thought people wanted or needed--deciding what they required rather than letting them figure it out for themselves. How many times had he insisted on giving them something because ‘he thought it best’ instead of what was called for? How many lives had he made more difficult because of it? Tarot wasn’t sure but he was definitely sure he had picked up right quick that it was wrong when he saw how it turned out in the end. “It’s like--see I was thinking that it’s like this. How do you make sure someone really does live happy ever after when they fall in love and get married? You’d have to cut their heads off at the altar. You can’t realistically do it. So I did the math and figured that the same thing applies with the Company. I could sit there and play the books and scrap numbers and sweat coins and try to push things in the way I thought best--thankfully it never got so bad as to make people miserable. But it still was wrong.” It was as bad as not trusting people. As bad as looking at them as children or pawns and just extensions of a property. “I really, really hope we can put the Corporation behind us, Blue. The way they did things and the way they treated us--and the Company and the people in it. So! That’s why I’m here!” He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up quickly (not too quickly) and grinned that smile of his. “I’m here to play kuribu to your--well, oubliette-bound self. I’m going to put money that when you come back--if you come back after you’re out of here--that you’re going find the company a turbulent place. All kinds of questions and people wanting answers. Probably even demanding them, which is always fun. But if you need it--and I do mean it since I’m sick of the whole ‘I can do good all by myself’ attitude that most everyone in the higher echelons seems to have in this Company anymore--then my door is open. I could always use someone to work with me in piecing out the dig sites and sussing out treasure and finding things worth finding so other people don’t find them first. Not an underling, mind you. Just a partner...well, Junior Partner to start. Moggie will review your work ethic and then consider you for promotion after your initial probationary period is up.” He stretched, the tone returning to the calm and casual one he’d been using before. “You have people hereabouts that want to try and see your face, Blue. I promise that the majority of them probably will be alright with what they see if you showed them.” He held up his fingers in a weird little salute, “Mogsguard’s Honor.” @astralagents
