[ Ugh, what an awful feeling. Worse than moving through any of his portals—at least with those he knows what to expect. After a few shaky breaths, he registers the concerned tone. (Is there something else in it? ... It doesn't matter.) ]
I'm fine, [ he says, a little breathless; ] I'm fine.
[ Still, he does move his arm to accept the offered help, rather than trying to get up on his own. He may be confident he can stand this condition, but he's not pushing himself to work at a hundred percent. ]
< You don't look like you're fine. ...Especially if you think something as dim as my flame is that bright. >
[They help him to his feet, watching him all the while.
It feels strange to hope that he's that sick, and they don't particularly like the feeling, but the alternative... They're not sure what to do or how to explain the alternative.]
Must be your personality, [he replies with something between a grimace and a strained smile, trying to mask some of his uneasiness and brush off the spell as something less serious. It shouldn't be serious. It should be gone—he should be able to get past it.
He refuses to acknowledge the idea that he can't, when his healing has been what's kept him alive through so much.]
I'll be alright. But—after somewhere dark and quiet, I think.
[He can at least accept that he needs to sit for a while.]
[ He can recognize a dubious reply when he hears one... ah well. He'll prove it soon enough, he's sure. Altius heads towards the nearest room he knows to be empty. ]
I've been strangely tired for a few days, but these moments are new.
[ There's a level of frustration in his response, but it's gone quickly, and his confidence returns as he continues, even if there's still a strain in his features. ]
[Dante keeps the light off for his sake once they enter, drawing the blinds to dim any light filtering in from outside. Their flame adds some light to the room, they notice, but not nearly enough to be considered bright. Not even slightly.]
["Thank goodness," he says. A simple nothing of a phrase that they find themself grasping onto nonetheless.]
< Pretty easy to guess what they want of us in order to get in. Bunch of snakes telling us to commit crimes against one another, snakes biting people if they get too close to the garden without being invited... >
[ His expression falls with obvious exasperation. ]
Dante...
[ Even recovering in a dark room from apparently overworking himself, his tone leans towards scolding them. But he can't say he doesn't understand the temptation. ]
Would you have at least told someone [ him ], if you had decided to try?
[Yeah, he's in lecture mode, a furrow in his brow. He doesn't think about the fact that it's brought on largely by the fact that he's upset by the thought of Dante coming to harm and not having any help.]
That's why you set up contingencies, if you're taking risks, and this place is unpredictable. If something happened to you and no one knew to look out for you, what then?
[ Altius lets out a slow breath, a little shakier than usual. With it goes his stern tone and the solidity of his frown, and a few moments later, he makes a soft request. ]
[ He lowers his gaze to the gloved hand he's holding. What others have they heard it from? Their Sinners? Their superiors? Does it come from the same place as his scolding now, or does it come from where his used to come from? ]
Have any of them told you it's because they care for you?
[Complicated. ... he supposes he can't judge that. As busy as they all are, who knows what opportunities they may have had or not had to express that kind of sentiment, if it's there. Would Dante feel as strongly about their duty if there wasn't some genuine sentiment among their team?
Regardless.]
Then let me be explicit about it.
[His hand curls a little tighter around theirs, and he raises his eyes again. There's a tired but serious look on his face.]
You mean a great deal to me. And I hate the thought of not being able to help you when you needed it simply because I wasn't aware.
[For the second time since they came to after losing their memory, Dante feels as if their clock hands have rusted to a stop. The feeling, similar in intensity, similar in overwhelming enormity, hangs on their shoulders and drags at their limbs in a heavy weight.
This time, though, it's... different. It clings, but doesn't choke or drown. It sinks deep, but doesn't seek to bury them alive.]
< ...I won't put myself in danger unless I have to. >
[Altius watches them for a long moment, expression softening. While it would be a lie to say he isn't comforted by the thought of them avoiding harm, especially for his sake... it would be unfair, wouldn't it? To try and wrap them in a bubble, to keep them from taking any risk because of nothing more than his feelings.
He decides to clarify, at least.]
I don't mean to ask you never to try anything, [he says, letting a breath out of his nose.] I just want to know you'll have what you need to be alright at the end of the day. But... thank you. For listening.
no subject
I'm fine, [ he says, a little breathless; ] I'm fine.
[ Still, he does move his arm to accept the offered help, rather than trying to get up on his own. He may be confident he can stand this condition, but he's not pushing himself to work at a hundred percent. ]
no subject
[They help him to his feet, watching him all the while.
It feels strange to hope that he's that sick, and they don't particularly like the feeling, but the alternative... They're not sure what to do or how to explain the alternative.]
no subject
He refuses to acknowledge the idea that he can't, when his healing has been what's kept him alive through so much.]
I'll be alright. But—after somewhere dark and quiet, I think.
[He can at least accept that he needs to sit for a while.]
no subject
[Which is to say they don't believe him at all. Probably better if they stick around until he's feeling better just in case.
They stick close as they walk in case he takes another tumble.]
< How long has this been going on? >
no subject
I've been strangely tired for a few days, but these moments are new.
[ There's a level of frustration in his response, but it's gone quickly, and his confidence returns as he continues, even if there's still a strain in his features. ]
They'll pass with some extra rest.
no subject
< Think it's related to the sentencing? >
[It's the only thing they can think of.]
no subject
I was bitten by one of those snakes, [ he admits. ] I did have it checked shortly after, but I expect it's not a typical condition.
[ He turns his eye towards them, even if there's still a bit of a squint there at first. He forces his expression to relax. ]
Do you think you've recovered fully from yours? [ They certainly seem to be back to the usual, which he's been glad to see. ]
no subject
< Yep. I actually feel like myself again. Even got a souvenir out of it. >
[One that they make a note to bring with them when they come to visit.]
< You were near that "garden," then? >
no subject
He hums briefly in the affirmative before explaining further.]
I wanted to see if I could investigate what sort of mess we'd have to deal with this time. Apparently I hadn't earned an invitation.
[He'll circle back around to the idea of that souvenir.]
no subject
< Pretty easy to guess what they want of us in order to get in. Bunch of snakes telling us to commit crimes against one another, snakes biting people if they get too close to the garden without being invited... >
no subject
[ And then also biting him?? That certainly solidified it. Vaguely annoyed, he continues: ]
If I could have seen what they're hiding, I could have figured out how to use it to discourage anyone from listening to them...
no subject
no subject
Dante...
[ Even recovering in a dark room from apparently overworking himself, his tone leans towards scolding them. But he can't say he doesn't understand the temptation. ]
Would you have at least told someone [ him ], if you had decided to try?
no subject
< I wouldn't have done anything serious? It's just... you know. You have to figure out how these things work somehow. >
[They make a mental note to not tell him the sorts of things they've tried in the Mirror Dungeons.]
no subject
That's why you set up contingencies, if you're taking risks, and this place is unpredictable. If something happened to you and no one knew to look out for you, what then?
no subject
Still, they can't quite bring themselves to meet his gaze.]
< I was only thinking about it. I wasn't going to actually do it... >
no subject
Come here for a moment, please?
no subject
< Everything okay? >
no subject
You know I'm not asking all of that because I'm trying to humiliate you or make you feel ashamed. Don't you?
no subject
< ...I know. You're not the only one I've heard this kind of thing from. >
no subject
Have any of them told you it's because they care for you?
no subject
[Have they?
Don Quixote said something about a family of twelve that one time. But was she just counting herself in that or...?]
< We've been through a lot. That kind of thing gets complicated after awhile. >
no subject
Regardless.]
Then let me be explicit about it.
[His hand curls a little tighter around theirs, and he raises his eyes again. There's a tired but serious look on his face.]
You mean a great deal to me. And I hate the thought of not being able to help you when you needed it simply because I wasn't aware.
no subject
[For the second time since they came to after losing their memory, Dante feels as if their clock hands have rusted to a stop. The feeling, similar in intensity, similar in overwhelming enormity, hangs on their shoulders and drags at their limbs in a heavy weight.
This time, though, it's... different. It clings, but doesn't choke or drown. It sinks deep, but doesn't seek to bury them alive.]
< ...I won't put myself in danger unless I have to. >
no subject
He decides to clarify, at least.]
I don't mean to ask you never to try anything, [he says, letting a breath out of his nose.] I just want to know you'll have what you need to be alright at the end of the day. But... thank you. For listening.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)