[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.
[And it's not as if they could ever promise him they'd never end up hurt. Some things are worth the risk, they believe that much, no matter what limitations they may or may not have.
They let their hand linger in his for a moment longer, allow themselves to wonder what it might feel like if the barrier of the gloves they wear wasn't there. Just for a moment, and then their hand returns to their side.]
< If it makes you feel any better, I do have something I can use out there if I need to. >
[ He considers not letting go for a split second, as Dante's hand slides out of his. But the moment passes and he sits back so he can look up at them more easily. ]
What's that? Does it have to do with your souvenir?
[They reach into their pocket and pull out a capped syringe filled with green liquid, the glass etched with a green, black, and white logo.]
< It's been awhile, but... You remember shortly after the whole doppelganger incident? I think I mentioned one of these things to you in a roundabout way. That I wasn't really used to needing to worry about recovery time. >
[He does recall, and he looks at the syringe, squinting slightly. Hm... not just technology after all, he can see. But supernatural concepts seem not uncommon in their city. Perhaps they're already aware?]
That is good to hear. [Reassuring, certainly. He trusts that they'll be able to use it when they need, for all their pain tolerance.] I got something of a souvenir myself, but I'd say it's less impressive than yours.
[Altius explains as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket for the engraved watch he'd recently found waiting for him. It felt like more of a mockery than a reward—but he's glad that Dante got something useful, after all that mood they'd been put in.]
Something I bought for my ward, Ferran.
[Holding it up for them to look at if they like, he pauses and realizes something. With an amused hum, he remarks:]
It matches you, too. [The colors of Dante's prosthesis are fairly close to the red and gold of Garnet's costume... which is what probably drew him to buy this watch in particular for the boy, with its red face with gold numbers and hands. The silver band matching Ferran's pendant made it all come together.]
[They know he likely means the colors as well as the watch, but there's still a moment where they stare at him before examining the watch a little closer.]
< It has to be a recreation, right? It'd be a little strange for it to just suddenly disappear from them and end up here. >
[It's only in that moment of staring that Altius realizes why comparing Dante to a timepiece might not have been the best idea, and he offers an apologetic sigh.]
Only the colors, I meant.
[Is it strange that he doesn't even think of their head as a clock anymore...? Or maybe he's just that tired.]
I wouldn't be surprised if it was drawn from my memory, but would it be any stranger than us disappearing and ending up here?
[Unlike most anyone else, he'll allow Dante to hold it if they like. If they don't take it, after a moment he'll turn the watch over to the inscription: a message of support he hadn't really met at the time, signed with the name Rion. Some of his exhaustion seems to come through as he reads it again. How things have changed...]
Perhaps it will return along with me, as others supposedly have been.
[They don't take the watch in hand, but they do elect to sit next to Altius, close enough that their arm nearly brushes up against his when they move it.]
[He's thought about it. He keeps thinking about it. The logical side of him knows there's no point, but the rest of him refuses to let it go. He hadn't meant for his plans with the young man to turn out that way, he'd thought to himself, but he realized that was a lie. How else was it supposed to end? He'd just decided the temporary pain he'd be causing was worth it, before. Why did his feelings change...?
Altius is silent for a few moments, and a clearly somber expression comes to his face, a troubled downturn to his lips.]
As much as I try to believe it's true that we'll make it back like so many have described, I still wonder if I'll get there in time.
[Lowering the watch in his hands until his arms rest on his legs and his elbow makes contact with their arm, he turns to look to Dante.]
The blood you saw on me when we met was his. The last thing I did before I arrived was hold him after he was shot. [He turns back to the watch, unable to keep looking at them, even if their presence is a comfort. There's a bitterness to his tone directed at himself as he continues.] Sitting here and trying to find ways to make simulated money while I still don't know if he's alright...
[They could tell him about their own experience. That when they returned for those brief few days, not even a minute had passed since they'd exited into the WARP station of District P. But would it help?
When time is of the essence, when someone's life might be on the line, when months have passed when moments count... Could something purely anecdotal be of any comfort?]
< Sometimes... keeping your mind and body busy is all you can really do. The time's going to pass by whether remain still or we keep moving, so I don't think there's anything wrong with making use of that time. >
[He doesn't know if anything can truly reassure him—or even if he should be reassured. Dante's attempt still means something, despite that, and he lets out a hum of agreement after a moment, the slightest of smiles on his face as if to reassure them.]
You're right. I know that when it comes down to it. But it's good to hear it from someone else now and again.
[He doesn't say that he's been holding back. Like he feels like he might be able to tear himself out of this place—but that it might be at a price he isn't willing to pay. He could be doing more. He could always be doing more.
He lets out a slow breath, letting his gaze move to the darker corner of the room before returning his attention to his companion.]
What about you, Dante? [He knows their team is alive and well, because Dante takes all that on their own shoulders. He remembers their poor joke about managing to avoid getting hurt. He finds himself asking anyway.] Are you and yours alright, back home?
< For the most part. The mission we'd just finished, it's the kind that tends to wear on us more than the others. More, um, involved, I guess you could say. But it was successful in the end. We got what we went there to get. >
[And Don Quixote had gotten something out of the experience as well.]
< It's hard to say what's gonna come up next for us, but... I've been trying to to face it all with a little more optimism lately. >
[Altius wishes he could assure them it will work out, but he supposes he's wished something similar his whole life, generally speaking. To know that it would all be fine in the end.
Instead, he puts his hand on their shoulder and comes to this:]
I hope things get easier for you. [He knows it won't. But... still, he wants that for them. His gaze moves down over their shoulder, a barely-perceptible tightness to his gaze even though his voice doesn't waver.] If not that, then... at least that you find things to make it worthwhile.
[They can say that much with certainty. Seeing the others grow, watching as they take the steps they need to take to reach their dreams, being able to help them along in that process... It's worth it. No matter how much it hurts, it's always worth something in the end.
They go quiet for a moment, staring somewhere ahead of themselves, but then they pull away, just enough pull the syringe out from earlier.]
[His own eyes look to something distant with Dante's reply as he fights to keep his cynicism contained, but it's gone by the time he returns his attention to them, and then they've given him an entirely new thing to focus on—the green liquid, certainly, but every implication to the decision, every aspect that Dante can't know. How he knows of their dedication, their "duty" to pull those others back from death. The fact that he's more than capable of defending himself. The fact that he already has what this would grant him.
A complicated expression comes to his face, touched and dismayed and confused all at once.]
Dante, [he starts, uncertainty in his astonished reply as he holds his hand up to block the offer.] No, you—don't need to worry about me.
< I know. Even if we die here, we come back, so for all I know if things are bad enough for you to need it, it might just be easier to die and return. But... >
[A moment's hesitation. They can't be sure of this. It might even be a waste of resources. They know they'd get an earful if anyone were to hear about this moment back home.
But it feels like the right thing to do.]
< You said something about maybe being able to bring something back with you. Even if we don't know for sure if it's possible, maybe it'll help. >
< As long as his head's intact and he hasn't died, the HP ampule will take care of everything else. >
[Altius's brow furrows further. The offer is beyond thoughtful. Logically, he should take it; for his facade, it would only make sense to accept it, to thank Dante, to hope for that possibility. If he protests too much after expressing his worries over Ferran, what would that say? About the truth of what he said, about why he'd refuse?
The corners of his lips pulled downward, there's a grim, focused look on his face, more than Dante might expect out of someone accepting something that could be important to either of them.
[But then the world is spinning again in a screeching swirl of light and sound and everything, and Altius reels back with his hand over his eyes, words cut off in the back of his throat with a noise of pain.]
[As much as he appreciates the concern in their exclamation, the sound only serves as a hammer to his senses, and his shoulders tense under their touch as his free arm keeps him upright. He feels like he's been knocked off a building, with none of his usual reflexes to rebalance him.]
Sorry, [he offers as a strained mutter, though he can't quite parse what Dante is saying at first. Still, his attempt to squint his eyes open gives him the shape of the pillow in Dante's hands even with his doubled vision, and he slowly, carefully angles himself to lie sideways to avoid making the disorientation worse.]
Damn it. [This forsaken place and its tests. How long is this going to keep happening before the affliction gives up?]
[They wince apologetically as they feel him tense, and wait until they're sure he's going to stay resting before they grab a chair and sit across from him.]
< Don't apologize. You still need some time to recover. I should have been letting you rest this whole time. >
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expiationlogs2025-05-13 12:07 pm
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.
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[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. >
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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.
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[And it's not as if they could ever promise him they'd never end up hurt. Some things are worth the risk, they believe that much, no matter what limitations they may or may not have.
They let their hand linger in his for a moment longer, allow themselves to wonder what it might feel like if the barrier of the gloves they wear wasn't there. Just for a moment, and then their hand returns to their side.]
< If it makes you feel any better, I do have something I can use out there if I need to. >
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What's that? Does it have to do with your souvenir?
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[They reach into their pocket and pull out a capped syringe filled with green liquid, the glass etched with a green, black, and white logo.]
< It's been awhile, but... You remember shortly after the whole doppelganger incident? I think I mentioned one of these things to you in a roundabout way. That I wasn't really used to needing to worry about recovery time. >
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[He does recall, and he looks at the syringe, squinting slightly. Hm... not just technology after all, he can see. But supernatural concepts seem not uncommon in their city. Perhaps they're already aware?]
That is good to hear. [Reassuring, certainly. He trusts that they'll be able to use it when they need, for all their pain tolerance.] I got something of a souvenir myself, but I'd say it's less impressive than yours.
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< Really? What was it? >
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Something I bought for my ward, Ferran.
[Holding it up for them to look at if they like, he pauses and realizes something. With an amused hum, he remarks:]
It matches you, too. [The colors of Dante's prosthesis are fairly close to the red and gold of Garnet's costume... which is what probably drew him to buy this watch in particular for the boy, with its red face with gold numbers and hands. The silver band matching Ferran's pendant made it all come together.]
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< It has to be a recreation, right? It'd be a little strange for it to just suddenly disappear from them and end up here. >
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Only the colors, I meant.
[Is it strange that he doesn't even think of their head as a clock anymore...? Or maybe he's just that tired.]
I wouldn't be surprised if it was drawn from my memory, but would it be any stranger than us disappearing and ending up here?
[Unlike most anyone else, he'll allow Dante to hold it if they like. If they don't take it, after a moment he'll turn the watch over to the inscription: a message of support he hadn't really met at the time, signed with the name Rion. Some of his exhaustion seems to come through as he reads it again. How things have changed...]
Perhaps it will return along with me, as others supposedly have been.
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< At least he'll get it back either way. >
[More importantly...]
< I take it that's been something on your mind? >
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Altius is silent for a few moments, and a clearly somber expression comes to his face, a troubled downturn to his lips.]
As much as I try to believe it's true that we'll make it back like so many have described, I still wonder if I'll get there in time.
[Lowering the watch in his hands until his arms rest on his legs and his elbow makes contact with their arm, he turns to look to Dante.]
The blood you saw on me when we met was his. The last thing I did before I arrived was hold him after he was shot. [He turns back to the watch, unable to keep looking at them, even if their presence is a comfort. There's a bitterness to his tone directed at himself as he continues.] Sitting here and trying to find ways to make simulated money while I still don't know if he's alright...
[It feels wrong.]
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When time is of the essence, when someone's life might be on the line, when months have passed when moments count... Could something purely anecdotal be of any comfort?]
< Sometimes... keeping your mind and body busy is all you can really do. The time's going to pass by whether remain still or we keep moving, so I don't think there's anything wrong with making use of that time. >
< Besides, it's not like that's all you did. >
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You're right. I know that when it comes down to it. But it's good to hear it from someone else now and again.
[He doesn't say that he's been holding back. Like he feels like he might be able to tear himself out of this place—but that it might be at a price he isn't willing to pay. He could be doing more. He could always be doing more.
He lets out a slow breath, letting his gaze move to the darker corner of the room before returning his attention to his companion.]
What about you, Dante? [He knows their team is alive and well, because Dante takes all that on their own shoulders. He remembers their poor joke about managing to avoid getting hurt. He finds himself asking anyway.] Are you and yours alright, back home?
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[And Don Quixote had gotten something out of the experience as well.]
< It's hard to say what's gonna come up next for us, but... I've been trying to to face it all with a little more optimism lately. >
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Instead, he puts his hand on their shoulder and comes to this:]
I hope things get easier for you. [He knows it won't. But... still, he wants that for them. His gaze moves down over their shoulder, a barely-perceptible tightness to his gaze even though his voice doesn't waver.] If not that, then... at least that you find things to make it worthwhile.
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[They can say that much with certainty. Seeing the others grow, watching as they take the steps they need to take to reach their dreams, being able to help them along in that process... It's worth it. No matter how much it hurts, it's always worth something in the end.
They go quiet for a moment, staring somewhere ahead of themselves, but then they pull away, just enough pull the syringe out from earlier.]
< ...Here. You take it. >
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A complicated expression comes to his face, touched and dismayed and confused all at once.]
Dante, [he starts, uncertainty in his astonished reply as he holds his hand up to block the offer.] No, you—don't need to worry about me.
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[A moment's hesitation. They can't be sure of this. It might even be a waste of resources. They know they'd get an earful if anyone were to hear about this moment back home.
But it feels like the right thing to do.]
< You said something about maybe being able to bring something back with you. Even if we don't know for sure if it's possible, maybe it'll help. >
< As long as his head's intact and he hasn't died, the HP ampule will take care of everything else. >
1/2
The corners of his lips pulled downward, there's a grim, focused look on his face, more than Dante might expect out of someone accepting something that could be important to either of them.
He can't do it. He takes in a breath.]
... there's something I need to te—
2/2
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[The word comes in a sharp whistle and bells as they hop to their feet, a hand immediately going for Altius's shoulder.
The ampule is tucked away somewhere safe once again, and Dante looks around before snatching up a throw pillow from somewhere nearby.]
< Here, lay down. You should rest. >
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Sorry, [he offers as a strained mutter, though he can't quite parse what Dante is saying at first. Still, his attempt to squint his eyes open gives him the shape of the pillow in Dante's hands even with his doubled vision, and he slowly, carefully angles himself to lie sideways to avoid making the disorientation worse.]
Damn it. [This forsaken place and its tests. How long is this going to keep happening before the affliction gives up?]
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< Don't apologize. You still need some time to recover. I should have been letting you rest this whole time. >
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