inbox.

[ressusciter]

un: avenger.
text - voice - video - action.

Comments

[manlet]

[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.

[ressusciter]

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.]

[manlet]

Of course, where else would I have to go?

[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.

[ressusciter]

Indeed.

[the thought occurs to him that he'd never sought to remedy the fact of what Andersen knew that he did not. he hadn't asked as to their points - and now, moved months along, he could only hope to guess at the state of Chaldea. that they were still working suggested certain elements.

with a sigh, he stands up and crosses to his dresser, picking up his cigarette case and catching Andersen's eye. the hand movement is swift, simple - if he wants, Dantes will share, as he's done again and again before.]

[manlet]

[He reads the offer and holds out a hand. Smoking isn't his usual vice but he can make an exception this once. They haven't seen each other in a while -- no, rather, Andersen hasn't seen this Dantes in a while, and he'd like to mark the occasion with something that isn't drink.]

[ressusciter]

[two cigarettes then, and he brings his lighter with him back to the bed, offering Andersen his before setting his own alight. it's familiar in every way, down to the scent, and it gives him some more control over his own mind. turning to his - not his Bonded, but still his Bonded - he feels a little like his old self again.

he can handle this shaking of his entire world again. all the world needs is a thunderstorm to make it perfect.]

[manlet]

[It's been a long while since he's smoked. Cigarettes -- real ones, not ones conjured up by mana -- have become a luxury at Chaldea, hoarded by staff and Servants alike. The smell of tobacco is familiar. Comforting. He knows this brand; Dantes smoked it all the time, to the point where he associates the scent with him.

Andersen takes the cigarette, delicately holds it between his two fingers. He puts it to his lips and taps Dantes on the arm.]

Hey.

[Light him up, too.]

[ressusciter]

[he assumed the other man would grab the lighter, but call it being brought back that made him indulgent. fine, he'll concede. inclining his head, he touches the tip of his cigarette to Andersen's, inhaling to light it that way. once it's glowing red in kind, he pulls back enough to exhale the smoke away.]

Apparently, these will harm you over time.

[a cheering thought.]

But I consider it to be that I shall return to being a wraith long before their poison overcomes any resistances I have.

[manlet]

[He expected the lighter, not Dantes's presence. A stillness settles between them and, almost imperceptibly, Andersen's breath catches. He doesn't move, is careful to keep his eyes on the cigarette in his fingers and nowhere else. It's only when Dantes pulls away that Andersen relaxes, lets himself release his sigh as a puff of smoke.]

And? Which do you prefer?

[The rich taste of tobacco is thick in his mouth. He breathes it in.]

The life of a human or the life of a wraith?

[ressusciter]

A wraith is what I am, in soul if not in form. This body can hardly be called human, though. It's only a creation of flesh, subject to the whims of magic to twist and distort it into strange shapes for untold reasons.

[he's never liked what he is. but he cannot change it - only find ways it can be borne.]

Neither of these existences can truly be called life. Only the clawing grasping reach of a thing that cannot and will not yet die.

[manlet]

[His answer is instant.]

Shut up you tryhard. You didn't answer my question. It's not about what you're resigned to: it's about what you want.

[ressusciter]

I can't have a preference between two things that don't exist. You might as well ask me to choose between two childhood dreams I barely recall.

[manlet]

You admit to having no imagination, then?

[ressusciter]

I have one. But I will not do you the disservice of lying about what I honestly believe.

[he's also been. moody lately.]

[manlet]

[That shuts Andersen up for now. He scowls and takes a long drag off his cigarette.]

Who am I to question you. I'm the same as you. I don't believe myself to be human, any more than you believe yourself to be whole.

[ressusciter]

We aren't human. We're Servants.

[it's his turn to lie down on the bed, blowing smoke at the ceiling.]

And I know I'm not even close to a whole man. Pretending otherwise would only lead to misfortune.

[manlet]

[There is a moment of quiet, filled by the smoke building up between them. Andersen watches the grey haze swirl and dissipate, lets the warmth of it build up over his face.]

Hm. Naturally. Rejecting one's true nature only causes tragedy and pain. However... allow me to speak as an author. It doesn't matter if you consider yourself human or not. In the end, you remain my Bonded and one of my readers. That designates you as someone I ought to cherish.

[ressusciter]

[for a moment, he simply looks over at Andersen, brow raised and silent. the space between them stretches, before he gives a little sigh, any number of a thousand calculations and ideas passing through his head to be considered and resolved or discarded. he thinks too much, he always will, but right now...]

Your trips through the mirrors have made you sentimental, my friend.

[he hadn't forgotten that declaration Andersen made. it, like other things, was lodged in his core as a foothold to steady himself with.]

[manlet]

Sentimentality is an author's lifeblood.

[No matter how many times Andersen tried to kill the kindness in his heart -- no matter how hard he tried to ward others away with heated words and biting contempt -- the fact remained that he could not help loving what the world could be. It's why Ritsuka shines as such a bright star for him, why he held Kiara's hand as she fell apart like petals blown from a withering tree. Humans hold potential. He sees that same spark of potential in Dantes.

He blinks away the sting of the smoke.]

I've always been this way.

[ressusciter]

I know.

[the cigarette hangs out of the corner of his mouth as he stretches his arms above his head.]

It's why you let Gerda's journey not be in vain. Why you gave the Little Mermaid hope. It's splashed all over your pages as much as ink, and it colors your daily thoughts.

[manlet]

[He laughs.]

You've been more diligent in your readings than I previously thought. Could it be you were a fanboy of mine all this time?

[ressusciter]

Is it so surprising I read your works? The ones I could not have seen in my lifetime reside in Chaldea's archives.

[so yes. he might have deliberately sought out some of the collected volumes of Andersen's works. he used a lot of free time in Chaldea to improve his mind, after all.]

[manlet]

Of course I'm surprised! It's difficult to imagine an Avenger settling in with a book of children's fairy tales. Tales of woe, of justice, of revenge... I'd take you as the sort of man who'd indulge in something richer. More grown up, so to speak.

[ressusciter]

Now who's the one without an imagination? Anyone in our group could be your reader. You judge too hastily by our class.

[as if Andersen's stories were written for children alone.]

Perhaps I preferred lighter fare than retracing the steps of my existence.

[manlet]

[He blows out a long stream of smoke and grins.]

I see. Then I'm a source entertainment for you. The author serves the story in the end.