[for a long moment, he's silent. there are subtle twitches, a set to his jaw that Andersen will know as him carefully choosing his words, linking them together in the exact right order to say something difficult. he pulls them from himself, and has to live with them.
when he speaks at last, it is slow, rough, the syllables forming words he doesn't wish to yield up but that he will in the end. sobriety lends a clarity and an awareness of all inhibitions and blocks that are in the way, that must be surmounted to speak.]
...I didn't at first. I thought simply that you knew me from Chaldea, and we could work out some kind of arrangement, that I could trust you with my True Name because you already knew it. And over time...you became more a friend than a mere partner because of how you were. You exist around me, and grasp for more, but you do not demand that I lay the foundations for it and use the stories that come to you, not to others.
That man took my life, broke it into pieces, and rewrote whatever did not meet his approval. He warped the truth, and so it became reflected through his words, and I was altered accordingly. I will never be free of the lens of public perception. But you...
[he exhales, closing his eyes.]
You are not trying to reshape me to fit the image that you desire most.
[He is accustomed to being a means to an end, a stepping block for a greater goal. Their Master treating him as a person is a rare case; and with Kiara -- god knows that woman didn't have her head on straight to begin with. It'd be better for everyone involved to focus on his writing, not on him, yet he can't deny it makes his heart jump to hear Dantes speak so kindly of him. Andersen sets his hand on the brooch, fingers warm against the sapphire.]
Stupid. [A clipped response.] I'm a carrion animal, much as he was. If it's for the sake of a tale, I'll spin what I find. The only line separating him and I is that I'm far too lazy to trim the excess fat off my subjects.
[His shoulders tense.]
You've made up your mind on our Bond, haven't you? I don't have a chance in hell of convincing you otherwise.
[his feelings were the same as yesterday. he cannot lie and say they've changed, when it was written across his features and his outbursts.]
However. I won't force you into this matter. I will not take an answer motivated by guilt or responsibility. If you still decline, then I will find a way to content myself with that answer, and not bring it up again.
[there's a moment there where he's steeled for a rejection, for Andersen to declare once again all his faults.
and then he does not, and Dantes cannot name the emotion that wells in his chest where that sensation of being cut off used to be.]
Then you'll have to let me know when you want to go over there.
[since. it's his research. and he had just been in a drunken sleep not too long ago. but in Dantes' expression there's enough traces of softening to say that he takes very well to that idea.]
[He can read the man like an open book and the honesty there is almost painful. Andersen scratches at the back of his neck with sudden ferocity, as if trying to rid himself of a flea, and says:]
We may as well go now. [Nonchalant. As if he couldn't care less.] If we stay here any longer, I'll probably drink my ass off again.
...Get ready then. I'm not Bonding with you if you look like you crawled back home at dawn from revelry.
[brush your hair and change your clothes. they're still all there, and Dantes will leave to do the same for himself, to put himself together in a way he hasn't in weeks. the more he dresses up, brushes his hair and takes care of his appearance, the more he feels like his old self, and by the time he's fully ready to head out, there's a subtle shift to how he carries himself.
he's happy. genuinely. and only someone who knows him so closely will see it in his heart. it is the usual aristocratic flair that meets Andersen to depart for the Coven.]
[He rolls his eyes but goes to his wardrobe once Dantes has left. He can stomach being a slob when he's cooped himself up in his study to churn out manuscripts; not so much when he goes out, and especially not with such an important event like this. He holds a shirt in his hands. For a moment, he's struck by the sudden impulse to drop it, to backtrack on his agreement. It's still not too late.
Andersen takes a deep breath and gets ready.
When he meets Dantes at the door, he looks much better compared to earlier. He looks respectable. Alive. And when he sees him, he raises his eyebrows.]
You almost look like the Count. You're overdressing, you know.
This is how I usually dress. Or have you forgotten?
[he takes the scornful comment as it's truly meant, and they head out. what surprises him most when they reach the Coven is what witch is manning the Bonding office - the very same as they'd witnessed the last time they swore vows here.
he thinks she's studying them a little too closely now.]
[Dantes' reproach is as swift, a hand being placed on his shoulder and a slightly apologetic look shot towards the witch, who shakes her head and gestures for them to move on to where the ceremony will take place. out of the corner of his mouth, he shoots:]
She could refuse us service because of you. Behave.
[But Andersen shuts his mouth. Even as he rolls his eyes and scowls, he remains silent as he follows the Witch, careful not to break stride with Dantes. The uneasiness in his chest is growing, a large pressure that squeezes tight in on himself. He's thankful they don't have the Bond established -- not yet.]
[he can tell something's amiss from Andersen's attitude, and he stops once they're in the room, lowering his voice and deliberately pushing against the spell that makes all words understood. another language, for a common middle ground - servants understood it, but perhaps not the people of this city.]
[To hear him speak against the spell comes as a surprise to Andersen. Was he so obvious? He forces himself to relax, to drop his shoulders, but the damage has already been done.]
... I can be your Bonded in this world, Dantes, but I must ask you. Is that the only thing you see me as?
[the words leave him silent, and the Witch, noticing the change in the air, goes and feigns as though she's forgotten something, leaving them in the room with the circle for the ritual. Dantes notices her go, and when the door shuts, he speaks again. still against the spell, for privacy, but his eyes look at Andersen - searching for some sort of answer there.]
If this is something about feeling responsible, or that you want to be treated as some sort of tool...
[he cares for his wellbeing, beyond the business arrangement. he'll say it again if he has to.]
[He looks away. Andersen has always been easy to read. His sincerity bleeds through, even when he does his best to scare people from getting too close. If Dantes looks too long at him, he thinks he may crack, more than he already is.]
It has nothing to do with those things. I only want to know how you value me -- what manner of friend I am to you.
[he pauses, bracing himself for what he's going to say.]
It will tell you the truth, without any of your interpretations. Put up as many barriers as you want, so there are no distractions. I...will take down some of my own, so you can see clearly my own sentiments first.
[it is a very precious thing he is offering. these walls haven't come down in years, not to anyone. but he'll carve an opening, and let something flow, if it's what's needed.]
[That gets him to look up in surprise. Something vulnerable flashes across his face and Andersen knows it's useless to try and hide it. He's accustomed to people giving up, to people letting him be. Not this compromise (not this hand outstretched) which puts Dantes at a distinct disadvantage. He doesn't say anything for a second. He balls his hands against his coat.]
No. [He can't be a coward. Not with what Dantes is offering.] I'll be all right. When you swear yourself to me, and I to you -- you'll know all of me. I won't hide anything from you. Not if you're my Bonded.
[he won't revoke his offer, though. he won't hold back on what he needs to. whatever this unshaped existence is that he holds back, restrains with many chains and his own will, he'll let it slowly trickle through his hands, hoping that even in the unknown there will be a measure of clarity.]
[This is the point of no return. This is what he'll choose to leave Dantes with, should he be called back to Chaldea before him. There remains a small part of Andersen, whispering in urgent, hushed tones, it'd be far kinder to run away, to lie, to refuse, to break his trust. And were he like the monsters he so adored to write about, he would have the strength to do so right now.
Oh, but it's as Dantes said. His heart is his weakness. It bleeds through, and the more astute will see through Andersen's lies to ascertain the blood's origin. So he doesn't do the right thing. He makes the selfish choice, turns to the witch, and says:]
We've kept you waiting long enough. Come over here. We're ready.
[He offers his hand to Dantes, palm up. Looks to him expectantly.]
[placing his hand in Andersen's - it's the opposite of the last time, he notes. the Witch has a knowing smile on her face, and he tries to not give it too much thought. instead, he lets the magic flow around them - out of that space in his chest where he'd felt that pull - and lets the warmth fill the space.
last time, it had been thoughtless. easy to speak of hellfire and dark nights, of fighting together. now...now, it won't last - even if Andersen stays, it may break again one day. it's not eternity he can ask for, only the truth.]
I, Edmond Dantes, swear myself to you as your partner. Through night and day, through strife and peace, storms and fair weather, as long as this world will allow, I resolve to be at your side. This I vow upon the unending flame of my soul, to remain steadfast, my strength as yours against the mysteries of this world.
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[a brief pause as he looks away.]
...As for Bonding, well. I expressed my sentiments last night, and they have not altered. I leave the ultimate decision in your hands.
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Why do you trust me so much, Dantes? I'm an author like Dumas was.
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when he speaks at last, it is slow, rough, the syllables forming words he doesn't wish to yield up but that he will in the end. sobriety lends a clarity and an awareness of all inhibitions and blocks that are in the way, that must be surmounted to speak.]
...I didn't at first. I thought simply that you knew me from Chaldea, and we could work out some kind of arrangement, that I could trust you with my True Name because you already knew it. And over time...you became more a friend than a mere partner because of how you were. You exist around me, and grasp for more, but you do not demand that I lay the foundations for it and use the stories that come to you, not to others.
That man took my life, broke it into pieces, and rewrote whatever did not meet his approval. He warped the truth, and so it became reflected through his words, and I was altered accordingly. I will never be free of the lens of public perception. But you...
[he exhales, closing his eyes.]
You are not trying to reshape me to fit the image that you desire most.
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Stupid. [A clipped response.] I'm a carrion animal, much as he was. If it's for the sake of a tale, I'll spin what I find. The only line separating him and I is that I'm far too lazy to trim the excess fat off my subjects.
[His shoulders tense.]
You've made up your mind on our Bond, haven't you? I don't have a chance in hell of convincing you otherwise.
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[his feelings were the same as yesterday. he cannot lie and say they've changed, when it was written across his features and his outbursts.]
However. I won't force you into this matter. I will not take an answer motivated by guilt or responsibility. If you still decline, then I will find a way to content myself with that answer, and not bring it up again.
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... I need to begin my research, anyway. We may as well renew our Bond while we're at the Coven.
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and then he does not, and Dantes cannot name the emotion that wells in his chest where that sensation of being cut off used to be.]
Then you'll have to let me know when you want to go over there.
[since. it's his research. and he had just been in a drunken sleep not too long ago. but in Dantes' expression there's enough traces of softening to say that he takes very well to that idea.]
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We may as well go now. [Nonchalant. As if he couldn't care less.] If we stay here any longer, I'll probably drink my ass off again.
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[brush your hair and change your clothes. they're still all there, and Dantes will leave to do the same for himself, to put himself together in a way he hasn't in weeks. the more he dresses up, brushes his hair and takes care of his appearance, the more he feels like his old self, and by the time he's fully ready to head out, there's a subtle shift to how he carries himself.
he's happy. genuinely. and only someone who knows him so closely will see it in his heart. it is the usual aristocratic flair that meets Andersen to depart for the Coven.]
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Andersen takes a deep breath and gets ready.
When he meets Dantes at the door, he looks much better compared to earlier. He looks respectable. Alive. And when he sees him, he raises his eyebrows.]
You almost look like the Count. You're overdressing, you know.
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[he takes the scornful comment as it's truly meant, and they head out. what surprises him most when they reach the Coven is what witch is manning the Bonding office - the very same as they'd witnessed the last time they swore vows here.
he thinks she's studying them a little too closely now.]
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Are you paid to dress us down with your eyes as well?
[ANDERSEN DON'T]
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[Dantes' reproach is as swift, a hand being placed on his shoulder and a slightly apologetic look shot towards the witch, who shakes her head and gestures for them to move on to where the ceremony will take place. out of the corner of his mouth, he shoots:]
She could refuse us service because of you. Behave.
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[But Andersen shuts his mouth. Even as he rolls his eyes and scowls, he remains silent as he follows the Witch, careful not to break stride with Dantes. The uneasiness in his chest is growing, a large pressure that squeezes tight in on himself. He's thankful they don't have the Bond established -- not yet.]
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Is something wrong? You seem tense.
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... I can be your Bonded in this world, Dantes, but I must ask you. Is that the only thing you see me as?
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If this is something about feeling responsible, or that you want to be treated as some sort of tool...
[he cares for his wellbeing, beyond the business arrangement. he'll say it again if he has to.]
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It has nothing to do with those things. I only want to know how you value me -- what manner of friend I am to you.
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[look at him. he moves, trying to catch Andersen's gaze again.]
Can you not know, even if we don't share a Bond?
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I'm only a man. My interpretations aren't truth.
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[he pauses, bracing himself for what he's going to say.]
It will tell you the truth, without any of your interpretations. Put up as many barriers as you want, so there are no distractions. I...will take down some of my own, so you can see clearly my own sentiments first.
[it is a very precious thing he is offering. these walls haven't come down in years, not to anyone. but he'll carve an opening, and let something flow, if it's what's needed.]
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No. [He can't be a coward. Not with what Dantes is offering.] I'll be all right. When you swear yourself to me, and I to you -- you'll know all of me. I won't hide anything from you. Not if you're my Bonded.
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[he won't revoke his offer, though. he won't hold back on what he needs to. whatever this unshaped existence is that he holds back, restrains with many chains and his own will, he'll let it slowly trickle through his hands, hoping that even in the unknown there will be a measure of clarity.]
You should tell her we're ready.
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Oh, but it's as Dantes said. His heart is his weakness. It bleeds through, and the more astute will see through Andersen's lies to ascertain the blood's origin. So he doesn't do the right thing. He makes the selfish choice, turns to the witch, and says:]
We've kept you waiting long enough. Come over here. We're ready.
[He offers his hand to Dantes, palm up. Looks to him expectantly.]
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last time, it had been thoughtless. easy to speak of hellfire and dark nights, of fighting together. now...now, it won't last - even if Andersen stays, it may break again one day. it's not eternity he can ask for, only the truth.]
I, Edmond Dantes, swear myself to you as your partner. Through night and day, through strife and peace, storms and fair weather, as long as this world will allow, I resolve to be at your side. This I vow upon the unending flame of my soul, to remain steadfast, my strength as yours against the mysteries of this world.
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