It's all Connie can do to keep herself from tearing the closet door off its hinges as she uses it to enter the arcade. Likewise, it takes immense restraint to keep the roar that's trapped in her throat from rattling the glass of the game cabinets. Connie marches up to the robot behind the prizes table, then slams her hand on the counter hard enough to shake it.
"Elias," she growls, voice low and feral. "We need to talk. Now. And like it or not you're going to listen to what I have to say."
She barrels straight ahead with her speech regardless of any response. "How long has Reira been with you? Practically ever since she came to Ryslig, right? At least two years? And she's a priest of yours to boot, always singing your praises, always excusing you, always saying you mean well and are just misguided. I know you at least pretend to care for her, too; from what she tells me she plays games with you all the time, hangs out with you just because, and you actually treat her like a good friend.
"I know that you may have some difficulty caring about the faceless human masses of Ryslig beyond their status as victims of the Fog God or as pawns in your machinations, so let me put the consequences of your actions in a perspective that you can hopefully understand: you inflicted so much suffering on Reira with the magic you wove for her performance. She's absolutely miserable right now, and like it or not it's because of you. All she wanted to do was to help you and now she blames herself for all the havoc her friends and family wrought while under your spell!" Connie is crying openly now, tears streaming down her face.
"NOW WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? FOR WHAT YOU DID TO SOMEBODY WHO THINKS SHE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND? FOR ALL THE PEOPLE THAT DIED BECAUSE WE LOST CONTROL? FOR ALL THE MONSTERS CURRENTLY IN PAIN BECAUSE OF YOU?" she roars, slamming her hands into the counter again. At some point during her speech, she transformed from her day form to night, and her hair bristles. Her jacket is still hanging on her back, though.
...and inside one of its extra large-sized pockets is Connie's laptop in Spade mode, recording the conversation in a private room with Reira.
November 24th
"Elias," she growls, voice low and feral. "We need to talk. Now. And like it or not you're going to listen to what I have to say."
She barrels straight ahead with her speech regardless of any response. "How long has Reira been with you? Practically ever since she came to Ryslig, right? At least two years? And she's a priest of yours to boot, always singing your praises, always excusing you, always saying you mean well and are just misguided. I know you at least pretend to care for her, too; from what she tells me she plays games with you all the time, hangs out with you just because, and you actually treat her like a good friend.
"I know that you may have some difficulty caring about the faceless human masses of Ryslig beyond their status as victims of the Fog God or as pawns in your machinations, so let me put the consequences of your actions in a perspective that you can hopefully understand: you inflicted so much suffering on Reira with the magic you wove for her performance. She's absolutely miserable right now, and like it or not it's because of you. All she wanted to do was to help you and now she blames herself for all the havoc her friends and family wrought while under your spell!" Connie is crying openly now, tears streaming down her face.
"NOW WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? FOR WHAT YOU DID TO SOMEBODY WHO THINKS SHE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND? FOR ALL THE PEOPLE THAT DIED BECAUSE WE LOST CONTROL? FOR ALL THE MONSTERS CURRENTLY IN PAIN BECAUSE OF YOU?" she roars, slamming her hands into the counter again. At some point during her speech, she transformed from her day form to night, and her hair bristles. Her jacket is still hanging on her back, though.
...and inside one of its extra large-sized pockets is Connie's laptop in Spade mode, recording the conversation in a private room with Reira.