[A few hours after dawn finally returns to Aldrip, there's a knock at the door to Dante's home-cum-office loud enough to hopefully be heard throughout the building.
The lack of communication available during the dark hour highlighted further how much Altius had relied on phones back in his own world; the tablet's lack of access to the locals was enough of an obstacle, but having all avenues other than physical meetings cut off had markedly limited his ability to keep an eye on the other Chosen and any developments they might have found. Suffice to say he didn't like it.
Dante was a part of those he'd wanted to track down, but between his exploration of the dangerous city for supplies and his own purposes, he hadn't ended up tracking the other down. Rather than immediately return to the network to contact Dante, he decided to dedicate his efforts to finding them in person. He wanted to have a conversation he was fairly sure they wouldn't want to be recorded, anyway.
However it is that he finally lays eyes on that clock again, it will be with a look of some tension, as if he's been holding on to some concern. The past week hasn't been kind to any of them, anyway.]
[It's the only thing they can say to a look like that. They can only assume it's due to the way they flinch when they move just so, or the way they're a little slower getting around their office.
It's neither the worst pain they've been in nor the worst injury they've had--not even close--but it's not like Altius knows that.]
[So his acquaintance was harmed after all. It's no great surprise, he supposes, but he's still not pleased about it.]
I hope you'll understand if that doesn't entirely reassure me... but it's good to see you.
[He lets out a brief breath, cutting out his usual small talk for a more direct manner. This is more serious than a business matter, anyway, and his tone makes that clear.]
[and he still has the potential of an injury in one instance but listen. healing magic is so overpowered.]
But I came across— [he pauses for effect, though there's an uncertain furrow to his brow.] —a doppelganger of yours, I believe. It had some strange things to say.
[His tone lends significant negative weight to the statement. It wasn't a meeting he enjoyed.]
[They're not sure how to feel, hearing that from someone else. Not that it isn't nice. Of course it is. Nevermind what their doppelganger heard or said or thought, they know--they know--that there is something horribly wrong with the way things are back home.
But Altius's words don't quite hit the way they should. Because he's still such a new face, they suppose. How long had it been before the Bus Team had listened to them? How long did it take for them to finally step up and be the Manager they were supposed to be?
They don't know. But they do know this:]
< I don't know what specifically that thing may have said about my experiences, but I hope you haven't had to go through anything like them. And I'm sorry if you have. >
[Commiseration and and an apology in exchange for the one they've been given. However little it means, it's the best they have.]
[You wake up in a courtroom. You’re not really sure how you got here, just that you’re here. There’s Jerry, sitting at the judges box. For some he might be new, and others he might be familiar or semi-familiar. He scrutinizes you, and then motions to the jury box. There’s a plaque that’s sitting on the outside that says “Council”, but there’s no one sitting there. Everything looks clean and maintained, but there’s no one in the courtroom but you and Jerry.
Weird.]
You are charged with aimlessness. In order to repent and further your rehabilitation, you have been tasked to show remorse for your crime by finding worth for yourself and a direction to live life in. You must find a goal to work towards during your time in Aldrip. If there is no action taken, there will be consequences.
[Jerry blinks down at you, fingers threading together as he looks down from the judges’ box.]
How do you plead?
[ooc: you have until May 9th to submit your Sentencing HERE Even if your character doesn’t proceed with the Sentencing, you must comment on the NPC inbox for your penalty.
Also, there are effects for ignoring this Sentencing. The longer that Dante takes to complete their Sentencing, the more melancholy and apathetic they may get. They may even find themself finding it difficult to find entertainment in things that usually entertain them. If you have any questions about Sentencing, please let us know!
Jerry is interactive at this point, but we wanted to make sure you got your information in hand if you'd like to start plotting for your Sentencing!]
[Ah. So it's an accurate simulation of bureaucracy.]
< So why doesn't your superior come here themself? And why give us the chance to plead our case now? I thought everyone was declared guilty the moment they got here. >
[A slightly-angled nod. It makes sense, especially given what they know about the AI so far.
That said, it's probably better to keep what they know about the AI close to their chest. The best case scenario is pretty useless and the worst? Not really something they want to dwell on.]
< Okay... Then why take people from their own worlds and bring them here? A crime is a crime from your point of view, I get that, but kidnapping seems a little extreme. >
[Altius's recovery from transformation a few months ago, while painful, was an incredibly quick endeavor thanks to the help of certain Chosen. His recovery from his venom-induced sickness, meanwhile, was no easy thing. Even if said Chosen still had been here, he wonders if their treatment would have touched his illness, when his own healing couldn't do anything to it.
The week he was in the clinic, he let himself fully focus on survival rather than worrying over whatever might have been going on around the city or on his tablet. He didn't have enough energy to be a busybody anyway—and for much of that time he wasn't even conscious enough to think about it.
He's out of it now, at least; had the chance to go home, freshen up, almost completely back to his sturdy self. And even though he could be going through all his businesses and endeavors and responding to any of the messages he might have gotten in the meantime, his thoughts only go to one thing.
Zekarion isn't sure why he's going through with this, allowing his selfishness to take charge. He could ignore it—they both could—and he'd lose nothing of practical worth. The offer of that healing syringe proved that to him well enough.
[Their tablet beeping at them takes Dante by surprise, but the moment they're able to get to it and see who it's from, their reply can't come any quicker.]
Of course. Your place? IDK how you're feeling right now.
[He must have worried them, for how fast the response was. He'll have to make up for that.]
I'm doing well, but that sounds perfect. I'll leave the door open for you.
[His house is hardly more than a studio apartment standing as its own building, and he hasn't bothered to furnish it with anything other than the practical things for daily living, but it is his alone, private and quiet. He waits seated at the tiny bar of his kitchen, fingers threaded together and cheek resting against them, facing the door.]
[Even after knowing him for awhile, Dante doesn't feel entirely comfortable letting themselves in unannounced, and so they rap their knuckles against the door a couple of times and wait a beat before they enter.
And so it doesn't startle them when they open the door to find Altius already looking in their direction, though they take the time to look him over once the door is shut behind them.]
< You really are doing a lot better. Good to see you in better health. >
[Their shoulders relax once the words are out. Seems it had been quite the concern for them on the way here.]
[The only real indication that he was sick at all now is the slightly lower energy he allows himself in his demeanor. That and perhaps the fine layer of the week's dust he hasn't gotten around to cleaning.
Altius isn't dressed for business, but he certainly seems to be dressed for something, the button-up and slacks rougher in texture but more than what most people would consider for a casual outing, let alone lounging at home. He also happens to be wearing his cologne—not out of the ordinary for him by any means, but it might cement the impression he wasn't just planning to rest here by himself.
He smiles slightly at them when they enter, as they both examine each other.]
I'm sorry to have worried you. I admit I was worried myself, for a little while.
[He turns to properly face them as if to display his improved health, though, and gestures to the seat beside him.]
But that's over now, thankfully. You've been alright since I last saw you?
< Well enough. Keeping an eye out for any snakes that stuck around, but I haven't seen any yet. >
[Has he been out recently? He looks as if he has, dressed like that. Whatever the occasion is, it does look nice on him, they have to admit.
They follow his lead, taking the seat next to him.]
< But really, I'm doing fine. Taking advantage of the downtime to see about moving back out of the inn. Feel like I've been imposing enough, you know? >
[They rest their clock in their hand as they look around the kitchen, into the rest of the small building.]
< Something small like this wouldn't be half bad. >
[It doesn't take very long for his thoughts to drag him down, back where he belongs.
He's not meant for this. This isn't meant for him. Why has he let his shortsighted emotions take control, pursued something that can only end with heartbreak and misery? Doesn't this go against everything he's done—dragging out a life, a lie that will only bring pain?
Whatever little temporary joys they get out of it will be crushed by that pain. If either of them live long enough, if either of them remember it, it will just be another scar, no matter the possibilities Dante so badly wants him to believe in. Another piece torn out of him. None of this will matter in the end, one way or another.
Such are his thoughts as he stares at his own gaze in the mirror in the middle of the night, hands braced on either side of the sink. Even if he'd been looking, in the dark, it would be extremely difficult to see the shadow that overtakes it under his fingers, then—
THUMP.
He catches himself with a heavy footstep just before he's forced to smash his face against the glass, then looks down to see that the basin has disappeared entirely. Or rather—that he's erased it.]
[Light fills the room with a single click of the switch.
Ever-sleepless, the sound of that heavy footfall had drawn Dante from their meditations, and it wasn't long at all before they'd come to the door of the bathroom to see what was the matter.]
< Ah. >
[The sink's gone.
While they still don't know the exact mechanism of Zekarion's power, they figured out its relation to his mental state some time ago--in broad strokes. It's not the only thing that clues them in on his mood, but it's certainly the most obvious.]
[Zekarion blinks once against the light, turning a hard, miserable eye half towards them.
He'd been shaken from sleep by a nightmare, and it's clear in his exhausted posture. Hardly unusual, nor is the mood he's been drawn him into now, but until now he's not had a witness for it. At least not in some time.
Unlike with his ward, he doesn't bother putting on a reassuring mask.
He lets out a sound through his nose that's almost a single laugh. He turns back to the mirror, at the empty look on his own face more apparent in the light.]
... It won't do any good.
[Reaching out, he places the pads of his fingers against the clear surface, then the shadow spreads once more—and it's gone, too.]
[They wonder, for a moment, if they should lighten the mood. "We're going to need to buy another one of those later" or something like that.
The idea is thrown out just as soon as it comes to mind.]
< You sure? Not even just for the sake of having it somewhere other than the inside of your own head? >
[They're not unaffected--far from it, actually--but it's a state Dante is used to seeing. That it's Zekarion, who's always stood so tall, seemed to have everything together, makes it a harder pill to swallow, but...
[Dante. So kind, so supportive, willing to bear so much. What would it take to smother that light?
His hand falls to his side and he lets his eyes trace the absence of the items he's deleted. The words that follow aren't angry, not when they've done nothing wrong, but—neither do they sound particularly kind.]
Would it bring you some reassurance? To know what I'm thinking.
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The lack of communication available during the dark hour highlighted further how much Altius had relied on phones back in his own world; the tablet's lack of access to the locals was enough of an obstacle, but having all avenues other than physical meetings cut off had markedly limited his ability to keep an eye on the other Chosen and any developments they might have found. Suffice to say he didn't like it.
Dante was a part of those he'd wanted to track down, but between his exploration of the dangerous city for supplies and his own purposes, he hadn't ended up tracking the other down. Rather than immediately return to the network to contact Dante, he decided to dedicate his efforts to finding them in person. He wanted to have a conversation he was fairly sure they wouldn't want to be recorded, anyway.
However it is that he finally lays eyes on that clock again, it will be with a look of some tension, as if he's been holding on to some concern. The past week hasn't been kind to any of them, anyway.]
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[It's the only thing they can say to a look like that. They can only assume it's due to the way they flinch when they move just so, or the way they're a little slower getting around their office.
It's neither the worst pain they've been in nor the worst injury they've had--not even close--but it's not like Altius knows that.]
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I hope you'll understand if that doesn't entirely reassure me... but it's good to see you.
[He lets out a brief breath, cutting out his usual small talk for a more direct manner. This is more serious than a business matter, anyway, and his tone makes that clear.]
Do you have time to talk?
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< Thanks. I'm glad you managed to get out of all that unscathed, at least. >
[A pause and a tilt of the head as Altius continues]
< Um... sure. Everything okay? >
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[
and he still has the potential of an injury in one instance but listen. healing magic is so overpowered.]But I came across— [he pauses for effect, though there's an uncertain furrow to his brow.] —a doppelganger of yours, I believe. It had some strange things to say.
[His tone lends significant negative weight to the statement. It wasn't a meeting he enjoyed.]
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< Yeah, I had the pleasure of meeting it too. Gave me my "souvenir" for the night. >
[And given what Yuri had to deal with, they can only imagine what what Altius had to hear.]
< Sorry if it bothered you. I didn't even think about having one of my own until it was on me. >
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But Altius's words don't quite hit the way they should. Because he's still such a new face, they suppose. How long had it been before the Bus Team had listened to them? How long did it take for them to finally step up and be the Manager they were supposed to be?
They don't know. But they do know this:]
< I don't know what specifically that thing may have said about my experiences, but I hope you haven't had to go through anything like them. And I'm sorry if you have. >
[Commiseration and and an apology in exchange for the one they've been given. However little it means, it's the best they have.]
SENTENCING
Weird.]
You are charged with aimlessness. In order to repent and further your rehabilitation, you have been tasked to show remorse for your crime by finding worth for yourself and a direction to live life in. You must find a goal to work towards during your time in Aldrip. If there is no action taken, there will be consequences.
[Jerry blinks down at you, fingers threading together as he looks down from the judges’ box.]
How do you plead?
[ooc: you have until May 9th to submit your Sentencing HERE Even if your character doesn’t proceed with the Sentencing, you must comment on the NPC inbox for your penalty.
Also, there are effects for ignoring this Sentencing. The longer that Dante takes to complete their Sentencing, the more melancholy and apathetic they may get. They may even find themself finding it difficult to find entertainment in things that usually entertain them. If you have any questions about Sentencing, please let us know!
Jerry is interactive at this point, but we wanted to make sure you got your information in hand if you'd like to start plotting for your Sentencing!]
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< More than a little confused, to be honest. It's not that I think you're wrong, but... Is not knowing what you want really a crime? >
[It seems a little unfair to ask of a person who only has a year and a half of memories.]
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I have no opinions on what the crimes of others are. I only communicate what my superior would like to pass on to you.
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< So why doesn't your superior come here themself? And why give us the chance to plead our case now? I thought everyone was declared guilty the moment they got here. >
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[his superior would love to talk to them, though.]
They believe that they learn something from encounters like these. They are... interested in what the Chosen have to say for themselves.
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[A slightly-angled nod. It makes sense, especially given what they know about the AI so far.
That said, it's probably better to keep what they know about the AI close to their chest.
The best case scenario is pretty useless and the worst? Not really something they want to dwell on.]
< Okay... Then why take people from their own worlds and bring them here? A crime is a crime from your point of view, I get that, but kidnapping seems a little extreme. >
[Especially with some people claiming to be dead]
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end of May - text; un: altius
The week he was in the clinic, he let himself fully focus on survival rather than worrying over whatever might have been going on around the city or on his tablet. He didn't have enough energy to be a busybody anyway—and for much of that time he wasn't even conscious enough to think about it.
He's out of it now, at least; had the chance to go home, freshen up, almost completely back to his sturdy self. And even though he could be going through all his businesses and endeavors and responding to any of the messages he might have gotten in the meantime, his thoughts only go to one thing.
Zekarion isn't sure why he's going through with this, allowing his selfishness to take charge. He could ignore it—they both could—and he'd lose nothing of practical worth. The offer of that healing syringe proved that to him well enough.
He sends Dante a message.]
Are you free to meet?
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Of course. Your place? IDK how you're feeling right now.
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I'm doing well, but that sounds perfect. I'll leave the door open for you.
[His house is hardly more than a studio apartment standing as its own building, and he hasn't bothered to furnish it with anything other than the practical things for daily living, but it is his alone, private and quiet. He waits seated at the tiny bar of his kitchen, fingers threaded together and cheek resting against them, facing the door.]
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And so it doesn't startle them when they open the door to find Altius already looking in their direction, though they take the time to look him over once the door is shut behind them.]
< You really are doing a lot better. Good to see you in better health. >
[Their shoulders relax once the words are out. Seems it had been quite the concern for them on the way here.]
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Altius isn't dressed for business, but he certainly seems to be dressed for something, the button-up and slacks rougher in texture but more than what most people would consider for a casual outing, let alone lounging at home. He also happens to be wearing his cologne—not out of the ordinary for him by any means, but it might cement the impression he wasn't just planning to rest here by himself.
He smiles slightly at them when they enter, as they both examine each other.]
I'm sorry to have worried you. I admit I was worried myself, for a little while.
[He turns to properly face them as if to display his improved health, though, and gestures to the seat beside him.]
But that's over now, thankfully. You've been alright since I last saw you?
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[Has he been out recently? He looks as if he has, dressed like that. Whatever the occasion is, it does look nice on him, they have to admit.
They follow his lead, taking the seat next to him.]
< But really, I'm doing fine. Taking advantage of the downtime to see about moving back out of the inn. Feel like I've been imposing enough, you know? >
[They rest their clock in their hand as they look around the kitchen, into the rest of the small building.]
< Something small like this wouldn't be half bad. >
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mid-late june...
He's not meant for this. This isn't meant for him. Why has he let his shortsighted emotions take control, pursued something that can only end with heartbreak and misery? Doesn't this go against everything he's done—dragging out a life, a lie that will only bring pain?
Whatever little temporary joys they get out of it will be crushed by that pain. If either of them live long enough, if either of them remember it, it will just be another scar, no matter the possibilities Dante so badly wants him to believe in. Another piece torn out of him. None of this will matter in the end, one way or another.
Such are his thoughts as he stares at his own gaze in the mirror in the middle of the night, hands braced on either side of the sink. Even if he'd been looking, in the dark, it would be extremely difficult to see the shadow that overtakes it under his fingers, then—
THUMP.
He catches himself with a heavy footstep just before he's forced to smash his face against the glass, then looks down to see that the basin has disappeared entirely. Or rather—that he's erased it.]
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Ever-sleepless, the sound of that heavy footfall had drawn Dante from their meditations, and it wasn't long at all before they'd come to the door of the bathroom to see what was the matter.]
< Ah. >
[The sink's gone.
While they still don't know the exact mechanism of Zekarion's power, they figured out its relation to his mental state some time ago--in broad strokes. It's not the only thing that clues them in on his mood, but it's certainly the most obvious.]
< You... want to talk? >
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He'd been shaken from sleep by a nightmare, and it's clear in his exhausted posture. Hardly unusual, nor is the mood he's been drawn him into now, but until now he's not had a witness for it. At least not in some time.
Unlike with his ward, he doesn't bother putting on a reassuring mask.
He lets out a sound through his nose that's almost a single laugh. He turns back to the mirror, at the empty look on his own face more apparent in the light.]
... It won't do any good.
[Reaching out, he places the pads of his fingers against the clear surface, then the shadow spreads once more—and it's gone, too.]
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The idea is thrown out just as soon as it comes to mind.]
< You sure? Not even just for the sake of having it somewhere other than the inside of your own head? >
[They're not unaffected--far from it, actually--but it's a state Dante is used to seeing. That it's Zekarion, who's always stood so tall, seemed to have everything together, makes it a harder pill to swallow, but...
That wish had to come from somewhere.]
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His hand falls to his side and he lets his eyes trace the absence of the items he's deleted. The words that follow aren't angry, not when they've done nothing wrong, but—neither do they sound particularly kind.]
Would it bring you some reassurance? To know what I'm thinking.
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[Not if they're similar to what they saw of him from the incident from months ago. There's no reassurance to be found from that.]
< But I'd still like to know what's on your mind. >
[If only so he doesn't have to be alone for it.]
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