You think I had control of when I left? You're not that stupid.
[But rationality has little strength against a bleeding heart. He knows this, yet he can't help trying to defend himself against the coming storm. Andersen moves towards him.]
I didn't expect anything from you. Or rather, I assumed when and if I disappeared, you'd do the sensible thing and find another Bond. I'm not owed anything, not when I was barely an asset to you.
You assumed I'd simply be able to move on, to find another Bond after only a month? You degrade yourself so openly in my presence? Is your memory failing you, that you do not recall how I explicitly outlined why neither of those things are true?
[he doesn't need a Bond to read the anger that's beginning to take over Dantes, the defense against any pain he felt, against anything that struck at him. the irritation, the look in his eyes, the tension that creeps into his posture in full.]
[Before, he used the name with the care it deserved. Now, he throws it before the other man to make his disdain known. He doesn't shrink in the face of Dantes's anger; he stands firm, as a hill would against the winds.]
We've both heard about the Mirrorbound returning to their homes without rhyme or reason. There was nothing that protected us from those same forces. And now you're demanding I act repentant for what's beyond my control? Don't ask such bullshit from me!
[his back is as straight as an iron bar and it is not winds that face Andersen, but a tempest that could pick up strength enough to rip houses from their foundations, clutching into the earth. if it was not beneath him, he'd lash with his own limbs, not fire and fury. the clawing, brutal roar that says do not speak that name. to use it in such a way is to lose all rights to it.
Andersen doesn't know, cannot know what transpired. he knows, he knows he was not immune and no one is. but it doesn't stop how much he feels, how slights that are not slights are forged and refined into instruments of hate until his body trembles and his blood is but liquid metal.
it's not repenting he wants. it's only the acknowledgement that Andersen left, and he mattered. he still matters.
it's why it wounds him, but it's more familiar to reach for venom in his tone, but a hair's breadth from striking out.]
You'd sever someone's leg and then scold them for being unable to immediately get up and walk. Truly, it will never fail to astound me how unreasonable and vain you are.
[He bites back with just as much venom, anger dripping off each word. Forget space. Andersen marches up as close as he can to Dantes, jabs a finger at his chest.]
I waited for you just as long as you waited for me. No, I began to realize it was a stupid endeavor to expect the Dantes at Chaldea to remember what happened in this world and I hoped, small as the chance may be, you would recognize what had happened and find some solace in my return to our Master. Our Bond here is one thing -- our duties to Chaldea are another!
[the words tear through him, are the icy sea waves to all of his roaring fire, and the grimace he gives is half bitterness, half some form of raw emotion that it would be kind to call pain, before he drags a hand down his face before dropping the pair to hang at his sides limply. still, his shoulders are rigid, and he needs to recall breathing.]
But I was here.
[the words are softer in volume, no less intense. he was here, with a hole in his chest that couldn't close over, another wound that could not learn to scar over and instead simply added to his numerous aches, day in and out. the pain that kept him sharp, reminded him who he was, who Avenger was. he was here, by himself, in a home that simply felt far too big and echoed only his own footsteps back to him.
he was here, and Andersen was not.
Chaldea is the beginning and the end, their destined path, and he knows it comes first, would never contradict that. but he cannot rejoice in it.]
[An admission just as quiet, guilty in its delivery. How is he supposed to wield his pride when his Bonded looks as if he's about to fall apart? Though they're no longer connected by the magic of this world, Andersen cannot help understanding. He reads it in how those gloved hands fall limp, the way Dantes had covered his face as if trying to hide his weakness from the light.
Again, his hands feel awkward, out of place. He hides them in his pockets. Looks down.]
Even if I wished for it, there was nothing I could've done. I thought that, at the very least, you were someplace where you weren't yoked by the role of Avenger. If you chose, there could be others who'd help ease your pain.
[the statement is the only defense he has as he tries to pull himself back together. to be himself again, to not say what rings loud in the silence - who could I have even chose? who would take him, full of malice and curses, poisonous man alight with wrath and pride? his is a soul that takes blood when one touches it.]
...come on.
[and hopefully, Andersen will follow him to his room, where Ignatz is calmly resting and gazing out the window, barely flinching to be picked up and brought to the bed and sat with. his thread of sanity, this little one.]
[It isn't true is on the tip of his tongue. He recognizes the answer as a defense, a wall erected to protect Dantes from further harm. But they've spent all their energy on tearing into each other already. Andersen wants to keep this awkward truce they've reached, to allow Dantes some of the repose he's gathered for himself.
And when he sees Ignatz, he can't help but smile a little. He sits beside Dantes so he can scratch the kitten behind the ears, his affections thorough.]
The furball looks fatter than I last remembered. You've been spoiling him.
[the cat sniffs at Andersen, and then seems to have a flash of recognition, beginning to purr at all the attention. he remembers who brought him home, and Dantes has taken more comfort than he'll admit from the simple fact of another breathing creature in the place.]
He's growing into a full cat. Of course he'd have put on some weight.
[he does spoil him though, in terms of how much he's allowed to simply roam about the theater and walk over his work.]
You still had no rights to come traipsing in here as though you'd instantly be welcome. What if I changed the locks, or repurposed your room, or did any number of things to erase your presence from the theater? This supposition of mourning only comes out because I allow it.
[it is really hard to be intimidating when a young cat is purring and gazing up at you with love.]
[that's as good as a concession. for now, he'll simply appreciate the stroke of good fortune this is, as many emotions as it dragged up from him. as strange as this is.]
You still have a room here, such as it is. Must I spell it out?
What is an author but a creature who revels in the taste of subtext? Deconstruction is my hobby, Dantes! My obsessions and vices are the same as Shakespeare's!
[All this he says rather cheerfully as he moves to scratch Ignatz on the belly. The initial panic has settled down. Now, he's settling back into this conversation as though he has never left, as comfortable as easing into a favorite chair.]
If you cannot say what you mean, it's my duty to amplify that true voice.
Oh? And what does that true voice that you hear say? Go on, enlighten me, since I'm apparently deaf to the meaning of my own words.
[it's like picking up a thread, weaving it back into what was there. the cat is purring so hard the vibrations can be felt in his belly, and Dantes frowns - but still, there's less tension in his shoulders now.]
A man such as yourself is closer to wounded tiger than a man. Anyone approaching you must be treated with the same level of distrust for you could not bear another blow to your being. Not in a strange land like Geardagas. Especially not when the magic of this world demands you to allow a level of dangerous intimacy.
[He lifts his gaze from the purring Ignatz so he can watch Dantes's face.]
It is better to be alone and safe than to be poisoned by closeness. Correct?
[his eyes are turned down, watching the cat's breathing, knowing Andersen's eyes are on him but not rising to meet him. instead, he lets the words ring out. there's a number of tiny changes in his expression - the brief pressing of his lips, the slightest raise of his brows, the turn of his head, the way he draws breath carefully - that speak so loudly in the space between.]
You flay me apart with your words, and yet I still remain. It is true - it is a risk, a great risk for anyone to be too close. Especially in this place, when your very soul is exposed to another laying hands upon it. I have suffered enough for lifetimes, I will not be martyred for it or pitied.
[finally, he will look up, and there's that familiar spark behind his eyes. physically worn as he might be, his spirit is reviving.]
[Welcome back, as if Geardagas was where Andersen belonged. His time in this world was always a short one in his mind. He would do his best to survive here and, in the time bought, find a way back to Chaldea. He could not throw away his status as a Servant as Cu Alter had -- could not acquiesce himself to a life without the chaos and bustle of the Antarctic facility he's come to recognize as a second home. His life wasn't his upon his summoning: it was his Master's.
Oh, but it'd been nice to play pretend for a bit. To furnish the theater, to swear Bonds, to be something close to a real human being, even if it was only for a little while. And when Andersen was pulled back to the Shadow Border, back to the yawning halls of the Atlas Institute, he realized he'd become too accustomed to a bond he couldn't bring along. All that happened on this planet ought to be treated as a pleasant daydream. Nothing more.
(the edmond dantes of chaldea was not and could not be the edmond dantes of geardagas. they were parallel existences, never to cross.)
Andersen sees that light. He may as well have been punched in the chest, for how much it hurts him. His eyes escape to Ignatz.]
Don't deliver your sentiments prematurely, I only gave you the introduction of my analysis. Seriously... this is why I hate readers. They interject whenever they please, without thinking about the author!
Then stop procrastinating and flay me properly. That or tell me what you want to do, now that you're here.
[the cat wriggles in Dantes's grip, and he can see the sign for put me down. gently, ever so gently, he's allowed to escape, and settle near them if not being held specifically.]
[Without the kitten to keep his hands busy, Andersen has to put his hands in his lap, irritated.]
... I want to continue researching the magic of this world. More specifically, I want to better understand how to control these mirrors we keep popping in and out of.
With the end goal being returning to Chaldea, yes?
[he can think of no other reason why this information would make him sulk. but such as it is, he debates getting up, lighting a cigarette - in short, trying to make his mind move at a faster pace instead of getting tripped and caught up in the trap of he's back, things will be as they were now. there was no way this sudden appearance was formal - Andersen would have burst through the front doors to announce himself if it was.]
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[But rationality has little strength against a bleeding heart. He knows this, yet he can't help trying to defend himself against the coming storm. Andersen moves towards him.]
I didn't expect anything from you. Or rather, I assumed when and if I disappeared, you'd do the sensible thing and find another Bond. I'm not owed anything, not when I was barely an asset to you.
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[he doesn't need a Bond to read the anger that's beginning to take over Dantes, the defense against any pain he felt, against anything that struck at him. the irritation, the look in his eyes, the tension that creeps into his posture in full.]
You're a damned fool if so, Caster.
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[Before, he used the name with the care it deserved. Now, he throws it before the other man to make his disdain known. He doesn't shrink in the face of Dantes's anger; he stands firm, as a hill would against the winds.]
We've both heard about the Mirrorbound returning to their homes without rhyme or reason. There was nothing that protected us from those same forces. And now you're demanding I act repentant for what's beyond my control? Don't ask such bullshit from me!
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Andersen doesn't know, cannot know what transpired. he knows, he knows he was not immune and no one is. but it doesn't stop how much he feels, how slights that are not slights are forged and refined into instruments of hate until his body trembles and his blood is but liquid metal.
it's not repenting he wants. it's only the acknowledgement that Andersen left, and he mattered. he still matters.
it's why it wounds him, but it's more familiar to reach for venom in his tone, but a hair's breadth from striking out.]
You'd sever someone's leg and then scold them for being unable to immediately get up and walk. Truly, it will never fail to astound me how unreasonable and vain you are.
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[He bites back with just as much venom, anger dripping off each word. Forget space. Andersen marches up as close as he can to Dantes, jabs a finger at his chest.]
I waited for you just as long as you waited for me. No, I began to realize it was a stupid endeavor to expect the Dantes at Chaldea to remember what happened in this world and I hoped, small as the chance may be, you would recognize what had happened and find some solace in my return to our Master. Our Bond here is one thing -- our duties to Chaldea are another!
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But I was here.
[the words are softer in volume, no less intense. he was here, with a hole in his chest that couldn't close over, another wound that could not learn to scar over and instead simply added to his numerous aches, day in and out. the pain that kept him sharp, reminded him who he was, who Avenger was. he was here, by himself, in a home that simply felt far too big and echoed only his own footsteps back to him.
he was here, and Andersen was not.
Chaldea is the beginning and the end, their destined path, and he knows it comes first, would never contradict that. but he cannot rejoice in it.]
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[An admission just as quiet, guilty in its delivery. How is he supposed to wield his pride when his Bonded looks as if he's about to fall apart? Though they're no longer connected by the magic of this world, Andersen cannot help understanding. He reads it in how those gloved hands fall limp, the way Dantes had covered his face as if trying to hide his weakness from the light.
Again, his hands feel awkward, out of place. He hides them in his pockets. Looks down.]
Even if I wished for it, there was nothing I could've done. I thought that, at the very least, you were someplace where you weren't yoked by the role of Avenger. If you chose, there could be others who'd help ease your pain.
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[the statement is the only defense he has as he tries to pull himself back together. to be himself again, to not say what rings loud in the silence - who could I have even chose? who would take him, full of malice and curses, poisonous man alight with wrath and pride? his is a soul that takes blood when one touches it.]
...come on.
[and hopefully, Andersen will follow him to his room, where Ignatz is calmly resting and gazing out the window, barely flinching to be picked up and brought to the bed and sat with. his thread of sanity, this little one.]
You were missed. He looked for you.
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And when he sees Ignatz, he can't help but smile a little. He sits beside Dantes so he can scratch the kitten behind the ears, his affections thorough.]
The furball looks fatter than I last remembered. You've been spoiling him.
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He's growing into a full cat. Of course he'd have put on some weight.
[he does spoil him though, in terms of how much he's allowed to simply roam about the theater and walk over his work.]
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You've a softer heart than you'd care to admit, "Avenger." Otherwise you wouldn't have mourned my absence.
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[it is really hard to be intimidating when a young cat is purring and gazing up at you with love.]
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[Bond or no Bond, he can understand Dantes well enough to read between what he's saying.]
If my presence were so unwelcome to you, you'd throw me out like the garbage I am, wouldn't you?
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[that's as good as a concession. for now, he'll simply appreciate the stroke of good fortune this is, as many emotions as it dragged up from him. as strange as this is.]
You still have a room here, such as it is. Must I spell it out?
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[All this he says rather cheerfully as he moves to scratch Ignatz on the belly. The initial panic has settled down. Now, he's settling back into this conversation as though he has never left, as comfortable as easing into a favorite chair.]
If you cannot say what you mean, it's my duty to amplify that true voice.
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[it's like picking up a thread, weaving it back into what was there. the cat is purring so hard the vibrations can be felt in his belly, and Dantes frowns - but still, there's less tension in his shoulders now.]
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[He lifts his gaze from the purring Ignatz so he can watch Dantes's face.]
It is better to be alone and safe than to be poisoned by closeness. Correct?
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You flay me apart with your words, and yet I still remain. It is true - it is a risk, a great risk for anyone to be too close. Especially in this place, when your very soul is exposed to another laying hands upon it. I have suffered enough for lifetimes, I will not be martyred for it or pitied.
[finally, he will look up, and there's that familiar spark behind his eyes. physically worn as he might be, his spirit is reviving.]
Welcome back, Andersen.
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Oh, but it'd been nice to play pretend for a bit. To furnish the theater, to swear Bonds, to be something close to a real human being, even if it was only for a little while. And when Andersen was pulled back to the Shadow Border, back to the yawning halls of the Atlas Institute, he realized he'd become too accustomed to a bond he couldn't bring along. All that happened on this planet ought to be treated as a pleasant daydream. Nothing more.
(the edmond dantes of chaldea was not and could not be the edmond dantes of geardagas. they were parallel existences, never to cross.)
Andersen sees that light. He may as well have been punched in the chest, for how much it hurts him. His eyes escape to Ignatz.]
Don't deliver your sentiments prematurely, I only gave you the introduction of my analysis. Seriously... this is why I hate readers. They interject whenever they please, without thinking about the author!
[He pinches Ignatz's paws lightly.]
I hadn't even begun to flay you.
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[the cat wriggles in Dantes's grip, and he can see the sign for put me down. gently, ever so gently, he's allowed to escape, and settle near them if not being held specifically.]
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... I want to continue researching the magic of this world. More specifically, I want to better understand how to control these mirrors we keep popping in and out of.
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[he can think of no other reason why this information would make him sulk. but such as it is, he debates getting up, lighting a cigarette - in short, trying to make his mind move at a faster pace instead of getting tripped and caught up in the trap of he's back, things will be as they were now. there was no way this sudden appearance was formal - Andersen would have burst through the front doors to announce himself if it was.]
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[With a sigh, he drops onto his back so he can sprawl out on the bed.]
As much as I loathe working, I can't deny Chaldea is working past its deadline. It's a miracle we've made it as far as we have.
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