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[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.]

< I'm fine, really. >

[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.]

Do you have time to talk?

[They're not surprised to hear that. Even back home, the Sinners always worried, no matter how many times Dante let them know everything was fine.]

< 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? >

I had a few near misses, admittedly.

[~~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.]

[Once more, they wince.]

< 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. >

[A look of some dismay crosses his face before it settles firmly into further worry.]

It injured you and you're concerned about it "bothering" me? [Half under his breath as he folds his arms:] I should have tried harder to find you...

[To warn Dante, is the implication of his guilty mutter. Altius shakes his head after a moment.]

All it did was speak to me. I only thought you should know what it said; things about lost experiences and fears of regaining them.

[First Yuri gets to see their secrets dragged into light, now Altius. And from some copycat creature that seems determined to paint them in the worst possible light.

They heave a heavy, breathless sigh, shoulders rising and falling.]

< ...It exaggerated. I may be an amnesiac, but I'm not as worried about what my memories hold as it made me out to be. Though I can't say I'm happy about people knowing about my memory to begin with... >

[Is it truly an exaggeration, or was it simply drawn from a place Dante refuses to acknowledge? He wonders... but none of that comes to the surface.]

I understand. What you do or don't feel about anything in your mind is a personal matter.

[I'm going to say he's moved inside at this point because the last thing he'd want is for the winter air to make Dante's injuries more uncomfortable. Between showing concern for their physical well being and offering without prompting what secrets the copy shared, he hopes to build trust.]

It also spoke of an aimlessness that came with that lack of memory. [He's not looking directly at Dante, partly to not pressure them into giving any answers; he's not here to ask direct questions about their inner doubts, as much as he might like to learn them. So, to give them an out:] But the way it acted made it clear it wasn't truly you.

[He turns to look at them again with a breath let out through his nose.]

I'm sorry you had to experience that.

< Well, that part's... Guess I can't deny that. >

[They've already mentioned it over the network once.]

< It's hard to think of what you want to do with your life when you only remember about a year of it. >

[That he's so convinced their doppelganger ultimately wasn't them... It helps. The threats it made, and the things it said... All exaggeration, nothing more.]

< Just making sure, but it didn't do anything to you, did it? I know you said it just spoke to you, but... No threats? Nothing like that? >

Not at all. Unless you consider implying I'd meet another "me" a threat.

[And it certainly would have been a problem if he had, but neither of the Dantes could really know that.]

But I'll tell you what I said then: it's alright to be uncertain. One year is a very short time to learn about yourself and what you want. [He gestures casually with one hand.] It took me nearly twenty of them.

[That's a weight off their shoulders. Bad enough that Yuri had had a gun pointed at him. Altius didn't need the same thing to happen to him.]



[Even if those people don't always have an idea of how to get to that destination, it's still a destination.]

< But sheesh... Twenty, huh? Hope it happens a little sooner for me. Who knows if I even have that long left. >

[Altius lets out a chuckle at his own expense. As much as he might "like" to reassure Dante of their continued survival... well. Who knows! He only has so much information about their situation. He won't be so presumptuous, but he can say this:]

I'm sure it will, if you're determined to make it happen. [He'll never deny it will take work, but so does anything worthwhile.] And I'll be glad to remind you anytime if you like.

[His smile fades slightly the moment after that. Their earlier apology, and the worry just now...]

I hope you understand all that truly wasn't your fault.

[This sort of thing... This is what they're supposed to be saying to other people, isn't it? Not hearing someone say it to them?

It's a strange yet welcome feeling, and one they aren't sure what to do with.]

< Well... Whether it was or wasn't, there's not much I can do about it now. Good thing I can't really do much to hurt anyone. >

[...Not personally, anyway.]

[What's that you say, is that a mentor slot that's free? Don't mind if he just tries to slide in there—

But for now he's frowning. Not only did Dante not agree, but there's this idea of fearing themselves hurting others?]

And yet you were hurt, yourself. Is there anything I can do for you, Dante? Any errands to run?

["Nothing" is what they want to say, to keep from being an imposition, but truthfully...]

< Some extra bandages, maybe? >

[They really were spoiled with all those ampules from K Corp, weren't they? Waiting for these to heal is going to be such a pain.]

< You don't have to though, really. I can still go get them if I need to. >

[A full set of medical supplies, noted. He holds a hand up as if to stop the thought of Dante walking about right now.]

You should be resting. Are you— [ah, wait, hm. No mouth...] Is there any pain medication you can use? Have you asked your medic to take a proper look at you?

[He's got a lot of practice with mother-hen mode recently, thanks to his injured and traumatized ward. The injury and trauma isn't his fault this time, but that doesn't mean his acting can't be effective!]

< I've had worse. And I've got a pretty good pain tolerance. >

[To put it lightly. Though from Altius's reaction, they're starting to wonder if they're in worse shape than they thought. Or maybe he's from one of those worlds that isn't used to this sort of thing?]

< Seriously, it's fine. It's not the first time I've hurt that shoulder, and this time it didn't even go all the way through. > [Everything's still attached, nothing lethal was hit, and the clock is still firmly on their shoulders. Nothing to worry about!] < But... I should probably talk to Yukina, shouldn't I? >

[He's from a world that treats people!!!

The look Altius fixes Dante with is one of some agitation, lips pressed together for a moment. He's putting on his lecturing hat.]

Yes, you should. [He's not a doctor himself, sure, but god has he had to read so much.]

Untreated pain hinders recovery, Dante. Trying to push through it will only make your wounds take longer to heal, and in the meantime you're still struggling. There's no point in avoiding what might make the process easier.

< D-Does it? >

[They shrink slightly, from both the look they're being pinned with and the scolding.]



[Even after everything, they couldn't deny how helpful the ampules from K Corp could be.]

[He lets out a mild sigh through his nose and replies a little less forcefully:]

Yes, it does.

[Ultimately, the concern wins out over the stern demeanor. It's rare that he displays such direct forcefulness! Dante should be flattered, or something. Altius pulls out a small notepad from his pocket along with a pencil, jotting down a few notes.]

I'll see if I can't find you some local analgesic, along with the bandages. [Huh, he seems to be writing more than just that. He glances up.] How quickly are you used to healing?

< Pretty much immediately after getting back to the bus. Okay, not immediately immediately, but pretty close. And not for scratches and bruises either. >

[Not unless they were injured any worse and those happened to be healed along the way with the injection.]

[Which tells him that Dante really does not know how to take care of themselves, if just due to a lack of opportunity. He momentarily presses his lips together before making a few more notes.]

Alright. [He sounds accepting of the answer in a way that implies there's work ahead. He's not used to dispensing medical advice, but the surety in his tone might make that hard to guess:] For now, try to keep your injuries above the level of your heart. Ice packs can help with any swelling, but don't apply them directly to the skin. Hopefully Miss Yukina can help you with anything else.

[He closes his notebook and pauses before looking up, directly at Dante. If they had eyes to meet...]

... How are you faring? Other than the physical.

[Sometimes not having eyes is a good thing: it means you don't have to meet others' eyes if you don't want to.]

< As good as I can be after all of that. >

[It's not the same sort of tension and exhaustion that tend to come with a mission involving a Golden Bough, but there are just enough similarities (and questions stemming from those similarities) to drag at them.

Or maybe their injuries are bothering them more than they thought.]

< Though, I feel like that's something I should be asking you. Aside from appearing here in the first place, this is the first time you've had to deal with something big happening in the simulation, isn't it? >

[At the question, he blinks like he's halfway to a flinch, and his eyes move just barely off of Dante's face—like the thought hadn't even occurred to him, perhaps. In one way, it's true: while the situation was certainly more obviously dire to everyone around him than any other he's been in, he'd had the resources and confidence to come out on the other side without trouble.

Not much of that makes sense for Altius, a man who up until now has supposedly only had one or two instances of violent trauma in his past, and certainly nothing supernatural. There's a lengthy silence as he seems to consider the question, in which he returns his notes to his pocket while taking a slow breath.]

It is, [he eventually says with a furrow in his brow.]

I've been moving from task to task. There hasn't been time to think about anything past that.

[...

Something doesn't sit right.

The silence is something familiar, but the movements leading up to it, and the words after... Maybe the whole thing just has them paranoid. Too much to think about. And too many things they'd rather not think about.]

< ...Sometimes it's the best way to handle it. Maybe not the healthiest, but you don't always get a choice. >

[Frankly, he's just not used to anybody asking him how he is. He's been the one in charge for so long, the one who asks everyone else how they are, the one who's always in control—or the one tearing it down, which hardly creates allies interested in your well being.

Funnily, it means he's out of his depth in this place, just in a different way than he tries to portray. Without a facial expression to judge, he merely takes Dante's momentary pause as appropriate to the difficult topic.]

I know it will catch up to me eventually, if we're granted any sort of peace after this, [he says with some resignation as he folds his arms.] So... I suppose I'll find out then just how well I'm handling it.

[Altius, at least, wouldn't pretend to be just fine in the face of all this, not after all the sorts of advice he gives to others. He turns his gaze back to Dante.]

It sounds as though this isn't the first such crisis you've been through, even outside of this place.

< You could say that. We have to deal with a lot of interesting situations thanks to my job, and home isn't exactly the best place out there to begin with. >

[Which is putting it lightly.]

< Believe it or not, this simulation, despite everything, is somehow... kinder? I'm not sure if that's the word I'm looking for. >

[He's getting the sense that "interesting" in this context means terrible and difficult. Between the mention of their prior injuries, the willingness to seek danger with their team, and the worries of being a horrible person should they recall their past, he would agree that it sounds distinctly not kind where they're from.]

I think I understand, [he replies, though he's not apparently happy to hear it, if the frown on his face is anything to go by.] I couldn't say the same compared my own, but... if you've found any reprieve here, I'm glad for that.

[All worlds are cruel in their own way, but some are more openly cruel than others, it seems.]

Are you usually given any time to recover? More than physically.

[A shrug, then a wince as they realize that motion is not one they're supposed to be making.]

< There might be a couple days of downtime while reports are written up? But other than that, no, not really. >

[Even on the Great Lake, with no real mission in hand until they returned to land, there had always been something to do.]

< It's a company, though, so that much is to be expected. >

A company run only on unfettered cruelty, perhaps, [he says with a rare display of open disdain nearing anger, folding his arms. Maybe he's evil also, but he gives his employees proper sick leave options, damn it!

He doesn't have to ask to know this is just Dante's expectation of their world. But Dante isn't the target of his ire, so he turns his gaze to the wall.]

I'm sorry to hear it. You deserve better.

[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:]



[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!]

Edited (LMFAO oops my b) 2025-04-07 02:33 (UTC)

[Wait, when did they lose consciousness?! This... This must be what some of hte others were talking about.]

< 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.]

[well...]

I have no opinions on what the crimes of others are. I only communicate what my superior would like to pass on to you.

[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. >

They are unable to. That's why they have me.

[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.

< Mn... >

[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]

For rehabilitation. There's a reason why you've been Chosen.

[there's a beat.]

They do not see it as "kidnapping".

[Their ticking grows slightly sharper with irritation.]

< Okay, fine, they don't see it as kidnapping. But that doesn't change that that's what it is. I know that there are some... exceptions to this question-- > [Primarily in the form of those who died before ending up here] < --but what's there to say that the people who ended up here couldn't have been "rehabilitated" in their own worlds? Why us? What's going on? >

[The ticking becomes quicker and quicker as they speak, irritation giving way to a frustration that's been building with every part of them unwillingly exposed]

[he notes that Dante's getting a bit more irritated. but he doesn't say anything about it, yet.]

I don't have the ability to tell you how the selections are made. That is something even I don't know.

[not privy to everything!!]

We are also learning with each cycle. We are learning, and some Chosen here have advanced through their list of crimes as well.

[The ticking slows, culminating in a single, sharp tock.]

< And the ones from the previous cycles? The ones who can't go back home or repent for anything anymore? >

[The ones who became part of the simulation itself]

[ah...]

They were saved in the only way my superior knew how. There were some cycles that were beyond saving, however.

< ...What do you mean by that. >

As I said, they were beyond saving. Their essence was wiped clean of this world.

< That doesn't clarify anything. How were they beyond saving? How did they get that way? >

It depends on the way their cycle ended. Sometimes there were too many dead to revive, and sometimes they got too corrupted.

< And you didn't think to release them before it got to that point? Surely not everyone's crime was so terrible they had to die for it. >

[What does that mean for the rest of them here now?]

We have no ability to save them preemptively in the way you're describing. We have limited functions on what we can do with the Chosen that're brought here.

< Yeah, you do. You can send them back. You do it all the time, don't you? >

That is something we cannot control. We cannot send anyone home ourselves until they're rehabilitated.

[Oh boy...]

< So then what does rehabilitation mean here? >

[oh boy is probably correct.]

You grow past your crimes, and become a better person when we send you back.

[...It's not all that different from what they're doing back home in a way. At least in method. The desires behind this simulation and Limbus Company's own goals on the other hand... Those are probably like night and day.

Still, acknowledging the similarities doesn't make them any happier about it.]

We do what we must.

[that sounds ominous.]

How else will some of you face your ways?

< Can't even begin to imagine. >

[An unfair bit of sarcasm on their part perhaps, given how not every world has magical glowing not-quite-trees just sitting around waiting to be interacted with, but a feeling they express nonetheless.]

[there's a beat. and then:]

Are you finished with your questions?

[A nod.]

< Yeah. I've heard enough. >

[Someone smarter than they are, more savvy than they are, might know the right questions to ask, but they themselves have run out. Besides, there's no point in arguing. It's not like an AI programmed to run this place (or any of its creations) is going to change its mind anyway.]

[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.

He sends Dante a message.]

Are you free to meet?

[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. >

[He keeps his eyes on Dante as they look around. One bedroom, one bathroom, a small living area. Altius doesn't need any more than that; he hasn't exactly been entertaining anyone.]

I've certainly had no complaints about these, especially given the lack of cost. I've never wanted to take up much space.

[His penthouse had been convenient, had impressed the people he needed to be impressed. It's much simpler in this world, without those sorts of politics involved.

He thinks of reassuring Dante that they're not an imposition... but he gets another idea.]

... you know, I had thought of inviting you to stay with me, when you told me your home was destroyed. Unfortunately my own at the time was just as much a wreck as yours—so the inn was the best I could think of.

< Huh? >

[Wait. Is he... implying what they think he is?

They look over at him, then back out at the home. It's such a small place, obviously not meant for too many people to stay. Sure, they don't need all that much themselves (what are they going to need with the kitchen or the bedroom?) but--]

< You're... Are you sure? >

[--but the offer is more tempting than it should be.]

Very sure.

[He sounds more certain than he feels, funnily enough; for all that he's honed his false confidence to the point it's become real, he still has his moments of trepidation. But the chance of seeing them at the end of the day, every day, is too much to pass up.

He moves his hand to rest on their shoulder, his tone as smooth as it's ever been, gaze intent on their face.]

I've been thinking about you often lately.

[Their chest tightens, and for the briefest moment their hour hand quivers in place. As their gaze meets his, they find it difficult to break away. They can't think of a reason why they might want to.]

< You have? >

[The words fall from them clumsily, a tick that stumbles over a tock, a gear that turns with a bit more force than usual.

They feel as if they should say something more. They feel as if they've never spoken a word in their life.]

[A few chuckles leave him, adding a flash of his teeth in the smile. He wonders if it's really that much of a surprise or if it's just their inexperience in the reaction.]

I have so many questions for you. Things I want to know about you.

[The hand on their shoulder slides upwards to their neck, thumb settling along the red casing around their face like he might if it were their jaw. His voice grows quieter as he leans a bit closer.]

Don't you think we've been dancing around it for long enough?

[Skin against skin. His hand and their neck. It's a sensation they're unused to, and they can feel the goosebumps rise on their arms.

Their first instinct is to ask him if he's sure. They know how much they stand out, how many people, even here, see them and automatically assume they aren't human. But Altius has never made him feel anything less. He's been there. He's reached out to them. He's offered his hand. And now...]

 [The gears continue to turn and whir with more force than usual, but the ticking itself remains steady. Soft, despite everything going on within.] < Hard to answer things I don't even know about myself, after all. >

< But... I'd like to be with you too. >

[Though the smile remains, his gaze flickers downwards half an inch for the briefest moment. How strange it is, the warmth he feels to hear it said aloud—as if he wasn't certain. As if he would have called them here if he couldn't be sure of the outcome. He can feel his pulse racing all the same, and his other hand moves to just above their heart, drawn there for him to know if theirs is moving just as quickly.]

We can find the rest out together. [His thumb sweeps across to their face, to draw attention to the space where their mouth might have been.] Maybe the first we can answer is... if you'd enjoy it if I kissed you.

[It practically leaps from their rib cage into his hand at the question. They can't feel the movements of his hand across the face of their clock, a bit of pressure noted by the mechanisms within, perhaps, but nothing quite so solid as the way his hand felt along the back of their neck.

Even so, they incline their head, nodding.]



[Even if they can't feel it, to know how it feels at all, from him specifically...

It's something they've wondered for awhile.]

[He might have felt ridiculous for this, once upon a time. There's certainly a level of it that doesn't escape him now, even if it's largely drowned out by his desire.]

I think so, [he murmurs.

None of this will matter, in the end; they'll both return home, likely with no memory of their experiences here. Even if they did remember, it won't change their fates; Onyx will continue his crusade of destruction as he must, and Dante will suffer a thousand more deaths before they meet their end.

A shadow flickers under the hand on Dante's shoulder, as if threatening to overtake their coat—and in less than a second it's gone, like it had never been there at all.

The truth is that he wants this, however pointless or absurd it may be. His exhale fogs the surface of their face before he presses his lips against them, eyes closing to take in every other sensation he can. The hand against the clock's casing moves to the back of their head as if to thread his fingers through their flames—what that must feel like is another answer he's wanted.]

[Up close, those rhythmic, mechanical sounds almost resemble a heartbeat. Steady, yet somehow insistent. Fire dances through Altius's fingers, warmer than the surrounding air, yet nowhere near the blaze its appearance might imply. Thinner than water, more substantial than air, a breeze without movement.

What would the others think if they were to see them now, they wonder? Is this moment even something the company would allow them to have?

Nothing more than a fleeting thought. They can be selfish this once. Just once. They can have this until they have to return.

Their hand slips from their chest to his back, and when Altius finally pulls away they duck their head, resting the top rim of the clock against his shoulder.]

Edited 2025-06-02 02:15 (UTC)

[For all the lack of flesh and blood, it's a fascinating set of feelings he can't help but adore because of its source. Like a puzzle he has to put together, learning how it feels to be with someone for the first time all over again. There's a thrill to the newness of it, how all the little pieces slide into place.

When Dante moves to rest against him, he wraps his arms around them, leaning the side of his own head against theirs as he remains silent for a few moments, taking it all in. What this means to him, what it must mean to them. How he might get to keep doing this and more. How much he'd like to show them.

He trails his fingers up and down their back in a slow path. Then:]

Well... what do you think?

< Wouldn't mind doing it again sometime. I think... I might need to try it a little more. >

[The feeling of being wanted that way, his warm body so close to their own... They'll "test" it as many times as it takes.]

< Thank you. >

[They don't know what else to say, even if the statement feels completely ridiculous the moment it's expressed.]

< ...I'm not even sure what I'm thanking you for. >

[The nonchalant dry humor they're trying would have actually made him laugh by itself, this time, but not as much as their last remark does; a few escape him, almost sharp but still good humored. He hasn't been thanked for being with someone before.]

If that's how it is, it's only fair I thank you in return—just this once. For letting me share this with you.

[Despite all the mystery that surrounds them, intentionally and not, they've reached out to him in ways he couldn't have anticipated. He wonders when that started, really...]

I'm looking forward to that trying. Next time perhaps we can add something new.

[His laughter leaves them feeling strangely... giddy, and a deep warmth settles in their chest.

What sort of expression would they be making right now if they had a proper face, they wonder?]

< I'd like that. >

[Someday, when they can bring themselves to let go of him, maybe.]

[Altius lets out a hum of acknowledgement—a wordless promise to make it happen. He still has so many thoughts and questions he wants to answer, to find out all the little things they might like.

Like Dante, he allows himself to savor the closeness, his breaths deep and slow as he commits the experience to memory.

But eventually, he comes back to Earth, so to speak. Back to more practical matters.]

... Do you have much to move?

< Not really. >

[A few extra outfits they picked up after their old house was destroyed, their card binder, their gun, a few extra things here and there.

They let go of him, albeit reluctantly, and lean on the counter, folding their arms]

< More than what I had when I first went to the inn, but nothing that won't fit in a few boxes. Might even just be one trip if we both go. >

[Although they separate themselves from each other, he still stays close enough for their shoulders to nearly touch, resting his chin against his fingers as he listens, elbow against the bar.]

I'm sure we can manage it. [It's convenient. He wonders how used to living with a small number of belongings they are... are they even allowed much, back home? His pleasant expression fades slightly at the thought of it, but that doesn't last. Besides, he's just thought of something. His eyebrows rise, but then they come down again as he follows the idea.]

—hm, no, it would probably be simpler if we just made an extra trip, if we can't. But did I tell you I've been learning to ride a horse?

< No, this is the first I'm hearing of it. >

[A horse... For some reason the thought leaves them a little uneasy, even though it's just another animal]

< Thinking of using one to carry things for us? >

[He tilts his head in a slight shrug—not a yes, not a no.]

It would be simpler to just call a carriage in this case, I think. I'd have to make sure it's amenable to the extra weight and learn how to secure that in addition to the rest I'm still working on.

[Not that he wouldn't put in the effort, especially for Dante, but it would probably be overboard for no good reason, just to move them out of the inn to this house.]

Still, it might be worth thinking about in the future. It would be good to know for emergent situations, or places the locals aren't willing to go.

[He wonders why he even felt the need to say it aloud, brought up the topic when he already put it aside as largely pointless. It's unusual for him, just speaking without regard for the practicality...]

Are you very familiar with them?

< Not really--big city and all. Not unless you count a headless cross between a horse and a wolf. Or a horse made out of crystallized blood. >

[And technically the latter was either seen through someone else's memories or looked more like it came off a carousel.]

< Which... most people wouldn't. They belonged to other people too, not to me. >

[His response is more subdued than it might have been previously; the way his expression shifts with his eyes barely narrowing makes it seem he's merely trying to picture it, rather than, you know expressing shock or confusion at the idea of headless or crystallized blood anything—there's not even a furrow in his brow, though a distant concern for Dante remains in the back of his mind as always.]

Hm, [he replies.] Those wouldn't be my preferred introduction to the concept.

[It's only because he doesn't want to sour the pleasant mood that he doesn't inquire further.]

Well, if nothing drastic happens with transportation, I'm sure you'll be seeing more of the one I've been riding. I should warn you that it likes attention, though.

[There's a look they're familiar with: the look of someone who has gotten way too used to seeing things that don't make any sense. Honestly, for someone who comes from a world that Dante's always seen as rather safe and tame, he's doing a pretty good job.]

< Oh, yeah. Pretty sure at this point seeing a car driving around might be the most shocking thing I've seen in awhile. >

[Especially with the lack of asphalt roads.]

< So it's friendly then? >

[He lets out a laugh.]

A welcome shock, in my case. I wouldn't even mind traffic at this point. [Not that he dislikes the horse or the riding, but it's strange how much he finds himself missing the mundane things.]

Friendly, yes, and friendlier when hungry. You might even call it bold.

< So what you're saying is that I should bring some with me if I want to leave a good impression. >

[They joke, but it does sound like a good idea. Even if a horse won't care about the whole clock thing, the fire--no matter how cool--might make it a little nervous.]

It certainly wouldn't hurt. And we might as well make use of the garden, hm?

[He did build it to be used, even for a fake horse made of data.

But he doesn't want to think about things being fake, right now. After a moment of watching them, a faint smile still on his face, he leans to touch his shoulder to theirs.]

By the way... Altius is only my family name. I don't usually tell people my given name if I have the choice, but...

< Your family name, huh? >

[They lean into that touch, still not used to it, still eager to follow.]

< You're... letting me use your given name, then? >

If you'd like.

[He doesn't bother trying to put much thought into what he's saying, anymore. There's no logic to explain why he wants to pursue it. Really, he should continue trying to separate himself from anything truly personal, anything identifying... He's already made that mistake before, he thinks, but—]

It's Zekarion. I don't usually like the sound of it, but I think I'd enjoy it in your voice.

[Funny, how much he's come to like a few of the things that so obviously set Dante apart.]

[But there's something lighter to the ticks and tocks all the same.]

< Zekarion... Yeah. I can call you that. >

[They'll forget here and there, and the hope he forgives them for that. But they'll make sure it's written down somewhere if they have to.]

[There's a slyness to the way he tilts his head and narrows his eyes at them in response. If they're going to be like that about it—he can be a bit of a smartass, too.]

Exactly.

[When he hears it from them, he doesn't have to think about anyone else saying that name. He doesn't have to think about every complicated feeling he's had about it before. It's an entirely new set of sounds, put together for him alone, by the only person who can make them that way.]

... Hmm. I was right.

[Whenever revert to the older habit, he certainly won't have any complaints; expecting them to remember every time after months and months of knowing him as Altius would be unfair. Besides, it just means he'll like it more the next time they get it right.]

[A statement like that is enough to send warmth flooding through their chest all over again. They don't know what to say in return, as if all the words in existence went flying out of their head the moment Zekarion opened his mouth.

...Ah, but there is a question they should probably ask.]

[He lets out a quiet, appreciative chuckle. It's sweet of them to think of it that way, but it's not necessary.]

Don't concern yourself with that, my dear. I can correct anyone else about it myself—unless you just prefer to keep it between us.

[They weren't used to being called that before. It sounds different now.

They wonder if that means it's going to be easier. Or... was it one of the hints they'd missed this whole time?]

< Oh, uh... No. I mean, if you're fine with it, I'm fine with it. >

[No matter how tempting it is to keep that secret to themselves.]

Alright. Then it's sorted.

[It might have been fun, but he's just happy to hear them agree with it—to call him that name at all, to try being together and everything that comes with that. He brings a hand up to the side of Dante's neck again like before, but this time touching just for the sake of touching, as is his inclination. Another moment passes before he offers another suggestion:]

Would you take a walk with me? I need the exercise, and I've been staring at a ceiling for the better part of the week.

[Just for a little while longer, so he doesn't have to think of anything but them and the fresh air he's been kept from. Just a little while.]

[They'd have agreed to begin with, but his touch makes it impossible to say no.]

< Of course. >

[It's nowhere near the same, but as someone who has spent a good portion of the past year of their life out and about on road trips (and boat trips) they feel like they can understand the feeling.]

< Might as well enjoy the weather before it starts to get too hot out there, right? >

I'm used to the heat myself, but you make a good point.

[It makes him feel strange to think of the changing of seasons; like it's been a lifetime since he arrived here, but not nearly long enough to encompass every experience and emotion he's had about it.

The thought of asking Dante if they'll see another autumn together is immediately dismissed, and he gets to his feet, returning his hand to his side, smile unchanged.]

Let's head out, then.

[It should be a calm, pleasant outing. Perhaps it's too optimistic for him to think that, but he's determined to make it one.]

[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.]

< You... want to talk? >

[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...

That wish had to come from somewhere.]

[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.

< No. >

[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.]

[Honesty. Acknowledging the reality of the situation. ... He supposes he should reciprocate.]

You told me... you didn't think you were a bad person.

[What he's wanted from them has changed so drastically. Once, he wanted to know what they were capable of—but it's not even a thought that crosses his mind anymore. Even if they could sense every enemy coming his way, even if they could use that horrible power to pull him from death, even if they could aid in every challenge that stood in his way, he'd only put them aside now. So he doesn't need for them to believe in his goals or to follow him anymore.

He turns to look at them, entirely serious. There's no guilt in his admission:]

I am one.

[He knows what he said at that time to reassure them. It's irrelevant—and he's a hypocrite, anyway.]

[It's not the answer they expect. And really, who could expect an answer like that all?

A confused tock exits them as they tilt their head to the side.]

< What... makes you say that? >

[There's the slightest pull at the corner of his lips.]

Ha.

[What does make him say this? Why say anything? Why not simply leave them in the dark—take more drastic measures on his own, without anyone ever knowing, as he always has? He's not even sure of the answer to that himself.

He knows that's not the question Dante is asking, but he can still find some... humor in it, however quickly it fades.]

Every minute I spend with anyone else is time I use thinking about how to use them, or get them out of my way.

[What will Dante do with all of this? With something nearing the truth of who he is? Will they still cling so stubbornly to that hope of theirs? ... it's another question for the list.]

I give no value to what anyone else wants beyond what will make them act the way I want.

[It doesn't make any sense.

What he's saying now seems so different from the way he acts but... is it? Given how deals are made back in the City, how people interact with one another, how they ensure they get what they want, can Zekarion's words now truly be considered at odds with the way he presents himself?

But it's such a sudden admission that it leaves them wondering... Where is all this coming from? Why now of all times? Why to them? Did they miss something happening?]

< I'm not sure I understand. >

[Is he trying to push them away?]

I couldn't expect you to.

[How could they, when he's buried so much of what drives him? But he thinks they might try, anyway. That brilliant, endless determination. His focus fixates on them now fully, voice no softer than before.]

And you, Dante.

[He moves towards them with slow barefooted steps, hands rising to see if they'll let him take their head into the grasp that has destroyed so much more than a mirror and a sink.]

What I wouldn't do...

Edited (the same word?? twice in a sentence????) 2025-06-27 18:14 (UTC)

[They will, of course. Even as their thoughts race and thoughts spiral endlessly about in their mind.]

< Zekarion, what's this about? >

[They're not so foolish as to believe they can solve every problem out there, whether it belongs to him or anyone else. But the way he's speaking now...]

[Zekarion thinks about the first time he held them like this. The sympathy and care he had then was no less real than what he harbors at this moment, but it pales in comparison—much like the shade's hands would to the man's now, solid but gentle against their clock. What he tried to do then was just another aspect of his greater desires: to save every single soul, leaving none behind.

He can't erase their worries now like he did then, nor will he try. All he can think of is the solution he's favored for so long.]

It's about the truth.

[Even he can only carry the weight of his lies so far. It feels like he's made the mistake of trying to weave them into something solid, leaving only a gilded surface to hide how frail and hollow it all is.

His eyelids lower as he stares into their face, a dark mirror by itself. ... yes, he thinks he's come to the answer. If he can't bring himself to push them away, and if they refuse to leave him, then...]

I want to tear you away from all of it. [Harsher:] Distortions, Abnormalities, your company. [But not just that. Barely softer but no less unpleasant, he continues.] Your Sinners. The path you've chosen. Everything you seek. ... To take you with me.

[To the end he's promised so many already.]

[There's something so tender yet so intense behind his words. Deep-seated and all-encompassing. The light buzzes overhead and yet it feels as if Dante had never turned it on at all.

Unlike when he'd come to them before, their vessel remains full--resolutely so. He can't reach into them like before to rip those feelings or attachments away. But it's plain as day to them now that he still wants to, whether what they hold is painful or precious.

They take his hand in both of theirs, holding it between them.]



[They feel guilty about that, despite it all, and the weight of their response drags their gaze from his.]

[The response is nothing less than what he'd expect. It doesn't change anything about his feelings or his expression—or rather, the idea of the rejection isn't what brings an edge to his voice.]

You thought I was asking...?

[His hand curls around theirs, tighter as he tips his head, forcing himself into their view even as they turn to look elsewhere. There's a gleam in his eye of something wild waiting to be released, even though his words remain even.]

I don't give a damn... what you think you can't do.

[Their attention dips to their hand, then his face, grip loosening as they attempt to break free.]

< Zekarion, stop. I'm not leaving them behind. >

[Each ticking "word" is resolute.]

[His other hand moves to grasp Dante's arm, to keep them close no matter how harsh his grip has to be to do it.]

Didn't I just tell you? What anyone else wants makes no difference to me.

[Zekarion won't let go until he makes them understand just what it is they've asked for tonight.]

I've broken past that kind of determination before for much less.

[His grip is tight, almost to the point it hurts. Though it leaves them more concerned than before, they continue to meet his eyes and stay the course.

Is this something the system has decided to impose upon them? Is something affecting his mind? It feels so similar to before.]

< Then why did you let me go when you were affected by the wish seeds? You stopped when I asked you to, even though you could have ignored me and took everything. Why? >

[Why did he let go of them then, when there were any number of ways he could have taken them? Clung to them with every movement, destroyed the ground underneath them, collapsed a building to trap them, leaving them no avenue to escape. The answer is an easy one and he doesn't bother lying.]

Because it sapped away my will to fight.

[His own determination that's pushed past so much, stolen from him due to nothing more than a stray moment of weakness and a foolish girl's arrogance. His jaw clenches to think about it and his disdain is clear.]

The effort was too much for that defeated, pathetic thing it made me.

< You checked on me after. You wanted to know if anything came back. You apologized when I said it didn't. >

[The gears grind together. It echoes in their head.]

< Afterwards, it bothered you. >

[Didn't it?]

That creature's aim was to kill you once there was nothing but a body left. What good would that have done me?

[A temporary death, only for them to come back with yet another piece missing. A victim, a witness. Someone who could question his motives, or at least was more likely to avoid him rather than do as he asked.

That he didn't manage to complete that aim with any of them was... a relief would be too strong a word. "It could be worse." A phrase he's always detested, no matter how true.]

I hated— [myself] —this place. For forcing me to lose control and do something I didn't intend.

[He doesn't say that he ached to think of stealing from them what little they had, and of making them suffer when they already had several lifetimes' worth of it. It would be stupid to admit, when he's just expressed a willingness to ignore their desires now, but—for a moment his grip twitches around their hand and there's a pain in his eyes the late hour doesn't allow him to hide.]

I had to prove I could overcome that.

[They think they see something in his expression shift, just a little. At least they think they do. For all they know, it could just be their own pathetic desperation making them see things that aren't there.

But they want to hope. They want to hope just a little more. That this is caused by something else or some attempt to push them away or something. That it's something like La Manchaland and some part of the Zekarion they know is there. That they aren't deluding themselves.

So they ask a question they shouldn't.]

< ...Who am I, Zekarion? >

[How do you see me?

Please tell me that I'm something more than an object to you.]

[He answers them as solidly as he did once before, his harsh grip loosening as he turns his wrist to thread his fingers through theirs.]

You... are Dante.

[For however much he may be willing to try to destroy their agency, disregard their choices so he can keep them by his side. And he'd be a fool to try to deny his feelings entirely, to play it off as considering them nothing more than a trophy or a tool.]

You're what I want more than... [almost, he thinks, but—no. He breathes out,] anything.

[That's what's makes this so important, isn't it? To have them know. To make them understand just what sort of person he is. Otherwise he wouldn't have bothered; he would have maintained the facade, kept them in the dark until the time came for this to end.]

My beloved fool who keeps hoping, and reaching, and trying, despite everything.

[An exhale, a flutter of ticking, the faintest quiver of the minute hand.

His answer soothes them less than they would like, but it does soothe. He still sees them. Whatever his reasoning may be, however he may have seen that moment before, however foolish he may think they are, they can still believe, still hope that he does.

...

Maybe they really are foolish.]

< So why ignore my choices? If that me is the me you want so badly, why take that away? >

[When they already choose so little.]

[He drags his thumb slowly over their fingers, one at a time in one direction, then back the other. In contrast to the affectionate gesture, his vocal answer is frank.]

I expect you'll fight me on it until the end.

[In their own way, whatever way they can.]

So stand tall and show me your strength, or surrender.

[And thus the last of the tension in their shoulders melts away.]



[They don't expect it to be an enjoyable experience, that fight. But if he expects it and--if they're reading them correctly--welcomes it, then it might just be a worthy one.]

< You know, I suppose I do have some blame in this. I'm the one who encouraged you to find that path, after all. >

... good.

[As if they needed any confirmation that was what he wanted to hear. His hands are slow to return to his sides, to let go of them, but return they do. Zekarion takes a long moment to look at them, to consider their words and the consequences of his own.]

This is what happens when I'm given hope... my dear.

[He starts to step around them. He needs a hard drink, and not one to simply magic away the consequences of.]

< Zekarion. >

[They call after him softly before he can leave the room.]

< It was you, wasn't it? All those months ago, when everyone was showing up in eachother's dreams. >

[That sound of his name draws his steps to a stop quickly enough. Then... he feels his heart pounding in his chest and a chill on his neck, all of a sudden. Perhaps all his secret-keeping has become so instinctive that his subconscious is slow to catch on when it's no longer relevant.]

You know, [he starts, almost conversationally if not for the atmosphere he's set for this night. He doesn't turn to face them, but he answers them all the same.]

That was when I started to really look at you. More than all the rest.

[A nod.]

< Your parting words then, they reminded me of what you said just now. Your challenge. >

[So it was something of a recent realization. A hand reaches up to the necklace they've yet to remove, playing with the pendant.]

< Just so you know, when I said I was planning on getting you something in gold, it's not going to be that. >

[A last attempt at levity on their part, as well as a way to let him know they know what he's been seeing.

They know he knows why they can't just leave the Sinners behind, either.]

< What you said when I asked you to tell me who I am says that that's not what you're looking for anyway. >

... I did tell you we would meet again.

[And so they did again, and again... he was drawn to them like a moth to their flame. Unable to stop himself, until he started to enjoy the searing heat of it.

He turns to look over his shoulder. Zekarion only wants the source of that golden shine in the way that he wants their hands, their scent—because it's a part of them. But now they both know the other understands the stakes for the game. The veil isn't being lifted—they've set it alight to watch it burn.]

I stopped caring what that thing in your head can do a long time ago.

[He almost means it as a reassurance, to acknowledge they've interpreted his words the way he intended them.]

You are my light with or without it.

[It's what makes it so hard to let him go, what makes them want to play the game at all despite their better judgment.

Because he remains the second star in their sky: the one that Dante can embrace but should never follow.

They'll light his way for as long as they can.]

< ...Thank you. >

[A soft laugh leaves him as a small but sharp smirk curls his lips and narrows his eyes. Thanking him, despite everything he's just admitted to, and despite the battles he's deliberately set up before them. It's so absurd, and so... Dante.

His love for them only grows; his answer is sincere and so fond.]

You're welcome.

[Zekarion smiles at them for a few more seconds before turning once more to head towards the kitchen. Somewhere in the cupboards he'll find a silent space between dull and numb, where his thoughts can no longer drown out the call of sleep.]

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end of May - text; un: altius

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