ACCOUNTABILITY.
[The sound of footsteps is slow, but deliberate and without hesitation. And as they echo through the room he walks into view lacking fear, lacking hesitance, lacking...much of anything at all.]
[He's tall--perhaps taller than his profile had implied--wide-shouldered and built like an unbreakable fortress wall, wearing the solid black of a priest; the light catches a gold cross around his neck to confirm the fact. And as he steps forward, his long coat (the deep purple of poisons and nightshade itself) trails behind him before coming to a stop as he does.]
[A smile cut across his gaunt and pale face, but it was far from a pleasant one. It was the enigmatic smile of someone witnessing a joke only they found humorous, and yet it did not reach the dark and emotionless eyes that scanned the room briefly as though the priest was carefully calculating what course of action to take.]
At last we meet face to face, my Apprentices.
[The voice that leaves him is recognizable as the same one that was heard only moments before, but clearer in person. Now it seems to ring like the largest, deepest bells of Notre Dame itself, no louder than an ordinary speaking tone--the result sounds more like distant thunder heralding an oncoming hurricane.]
[The real difference lies not in how he speaks, but what he says. The short, impersonal sentences of the weeks prior are at last discarded, and the man before them speaks as a true preacher--a true wordsmith--would address his congregation.]
Rejoice and be proud of your accomplishments. Each and every last one of your number, dead or alive, has truly exceeded all expectations I had for this group. And now you have clawed and scratched your way here, on the backs of your fallen friends' struggles and failures. You have proven that their own accomplishments would not be in vain simply by standing here before me--I do not doubt that your success is the wish most of them held in their hearts, at the very end of their lives.
[He places a hand over his own heart, taking on a tone that nearly sounds genuinely proud...until a patronizing current begins to run through each syllable like a deadly undertow.]
Do you perhaps feel satisfied? You would be right to, for making it so far. Your sorrow, desperation, joy, determination...all of it has been a magnificent thing to behold as you fought to reach this point in time. Each second of it has served its purpose, and served it very well. I am one who believes such struggling and effort deserves to be rewarded, and so this alongside my own endless gratitude is what I will grant you in return for all that you have done for me.
My name is Kirei Kotomine.
[He holds his arms out slightly to his sides, a gesture that would almost seem welcoming if 'Kageshirou' did not react and coil--completely harmlessly--around his arms like a black serpent. The smile he wore turned to a razor-edged smirk, the challenge set before the remaining Apprentices clear even without his next words:]
And now that we have properly met, tell me: shall we continue our discussion?
[He's tall--perhaps taller than his profile had implied--wide-shouldered and built like an unbreakable fortress wall, wearing the solid black of a priest; the light catches a gold cross around his neck to confirm the fact. And as he steps forward, his long coat (the deep purple of poisons and nightshade itself) trails behind him before coming to a stop as he does.]
[A smile cut across his gaunt and pale face, but it was far from a pleasant one. It was the enigmatic smile of someone witnessing a joke only they found humorous, and yet it did not reach the dark and emotionless eyes that scanned the room briefly as though the priest was carefully calculating what course of action to take.]
At last we meet face to face, my Apprentices.
[The voice that leaves him is recognizable as the same one that was heard only moments before, but clearer in person. Now it seems to ring like the largest, deepest bells of Notre Dame itself, no louder than an ordinary speaking tone--the result sounds more like distant thunder heralding an oncoming hurricane.]
[The real difference lies not in how he speaks, but what he says. The short, impersonal sentences of the weeks prior are at last discarded, and the man before them speaks as a true preacher--a true wordsmith--would address his congregation.]
Rejoice and be proud of your accomplishments. Each and every last one of your number, dead or alive, has truly exceeded all expectations I had for this group. And now you have clawed and scratched your way here, on the backs of your fallen friends' struggles and failures. You have proven that their own accomplishments would not be in vain simply by standing here before me--I do not doubt that your success is the wish most of them held in their hearts, at the very end of their lives.
[He places a hand over his own heart, taking on a tone that nearly sounds genuinely proud...until a patronizing current begins to run through each syllable like a deadly undertow.]
Do you perhaps feel satisfied? You would be right to, for making it so far. Your sorrow, desperation, joy, determination...all of it has been a magnificent thing to behold as you fought to reach this point in time. Each second of it has served its purpose, and served it very well. I am one who believes such struggling and effort deserves to be rewarded, and so this alongside my own endless gratitude is what I will grant you in return for all that you have done for me.
My name is Kirei Kotomine.
[He holds his arms out slightly to his sides, a gesture that would almost seem welcoming if 'Kageshirou' did not react and coil--completely harmlessly--around his arms like a black serpent. The smile he wore turned to a razor-edged smirk, the challenge set before the remaining Apprentices clear even without his next words:]
And now that we have properly met, tell me: shall we continue our discussion?

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And you willingly work with such a thing?
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[ Flatly, but with a chipper tone ]
But most of them aren't self-aware enough to see that!
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I was formerly of a group called the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament--assassins working in the name of God, as Executors of His will. And I destroyed more heretics than I am able to count in that time. Vampires. Mages. Anything which opposed the teachings of the Holy Church.
But was that 'right', Elda Marker? Did they not have their own right to exist? What we Executors called pure actions and intentions were no doubt unspeakable evil to those we cut down.
Just because I am a priest does not make anything I do 'good' in the eyes of God or man.
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Oh.
Elda's eyes shift, becoming the sort of predatory eyes that she bring to a more serious situation, as she brings herself to a more serious point.
... This man is everything she hates, for a variety of reasons, but particularly with that history... a templar, an assassin who kills mages (magicians?) and vampires- ]
If your "God" asked that of you, wouldn't he see it as "good?"
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It's truly hypocrisy in the grandest form.
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So what, you realized that your God- or rather, the ones who supposed to speak for him, were wrong?
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For a very long time, I dared suspect someone could be created wrong. And that...is why I started all of this.
Because I have a question that I need to answer.
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... Tell me your question, if you think I'll understand it, Kirei. You did say this ought to be explained in person.
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'Is it a crime to live as you are, when 'what you are' is so radically different from others?' If something is 'evil' from its very creation, and had no chance of ever being 'good' by standard morals...should it have existed at all?
Does Avenger, in fulfilling its purpose of destruction, have a right to do so because that is what it was made to do?
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The humans of my world killed my people because of what we are, off from their idea of what was "right" and because we were an affront to their "God." We had every right to exist, and for a long time I've thought that the humans and their God were the devils and demons.
[ . . . ]
That, of course, does not answer your question.
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But I think you may, perhaps, see traces of my perspective. Do I not have my own right to exist, even if I am 'evil' and fulfilling my purpose as such?
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[Maybe he's just a simple person. Maybe he really is over-complicating things. Either way-]
Everyone's got a right to exist, but existing isn't the same as letting you run rampant and do whatever you want. You're allowed to do it just as much as we're allowed to stop you.
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[He looks up at the dripping shadowy stuff from the ceiling.]
And for yours, too. You got that?
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Even if you do... Even then, I don't think that "evil" had a right to live peacefully, does it...?
[ But then, if vampires were "evil..." ]
Or at the very least, I'm too selfish to allow for that. [ . . . ] Now that you wronged me.
[ . . . ]
You did all of this for that question?
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My only happiness...comes with the pain of others.
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Did you enjoy killing that son of yours in this game?
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If there's one thing humans have taught me here, it's that things are more complicated than that.
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For there to be "good" and "evil", then in between there exists a third option.
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I've come to see everything is subjective.
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