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[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? >
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.]
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.]
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.
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.]
[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.]
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? >
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.
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?]
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...
[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, 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.]
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.]
< I can't go that far. >
[They feel guilty about that, despite it all, and the weight of their response drags their gaze from his.]
< I can't leave them behind. I'm sorry. >
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.]
< I can't go that far. >
[They feel guilty about that, despite it all, and the weight of their response drags their gaze from his.]
< I can't leave them behind. I'm sorry. >
[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.
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.]
< 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.
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? >
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.
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?]
[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.
[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.]
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.
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.]
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.
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.]
< I can do that. >
[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. >
< I can do that. >
[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. >
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