daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[And getting no response is just as worrying as the initial message. Ardyn may send another after that, inquiring again. But after he receives still no response, he doesn't pursue it any further. He'll see Dante in class, surely, and maybe he'll be more responsive then.

Of course, he doesn't spot him for the next handful of days there, either.

Until one day, walking through campus (making his way from one building to the other -- staff meeting and all that), he spots the young man. Ardyn's even so bold to call out to him:]

Mr. Rantanen. [Loud enough to grab his attention, steady enough to not sound terribly alarmed right off the bat. Heavens, where has this boy been.]

[Dante knew there was a risk of running into someone he knows, cutting through campus on his way back home, but he'd decided to go for it anyways to take the most direct route. Unfortunately, it looks like luck is working against him today (so what else is new), as he hears Ardyn's voice calling out to him, loud enough that he can't possibly pretend to have not heard him.

Dammit. Of course it would be Professor Izunia, the one prof who might have actually taken notice of his absence. Dante regrets having sent him that text now, cluing him into the fact that something was amiss, but honestly the fact that it's Thursday now and he's missed multiple sessions of class might've landed him in hot water too. He can't be sure.

So Dante stops, glancing over at Ardyn and waiting. He respects Ardyn enough to acknowledge him, but he's not exactly thrilled about the idea of having to talk to anyone so soon and he won't come to him. However, if Ardyn gets closer, it'll be obvious that something's up. His hair is damp, having been washed in the river earlier, and his clothing is more casual and wrinkled in comparison with his regular, put-together appearance. There's a very faint scent of alcohol that he might be able to catch (he hasn't been drinking today, but one of the bottles had cracked and leaked with how rough he'd been in his flight out of town, so his shirt has retained some the scent), but the most notable difference to Dante is in his eyes.

Ardyn's probably familiar with the way Dante usually appears, a look of challenge and in his eyes regardless of if he's smirking and in control or scowling as he admits defeat. His arrogance and self-assuredness is one of his most obvious traits. But today that challenge is missing, and there's a guarded look in his eyes instead.

Barely out of the woods for twenty minutes and already someone's testing his resolve.]

Prof. What is it?

[Ardyn is already walking over to Dante in long strides before the question even leaves his student's mouth. If he won't come to him, then Ardyn will take the opportunity to do so instead; and when he draws closer, he pulls a subtle frown.

The boy was certainly less presentable than what Ardyn was used to seeing. And while that might be disconcerting enough, it was the look in his eyes -- hesitant, reticent -- that worries the professor the most. That smug confidence, while sometimes annoying, was what he had grown accustomed to. There's hardly any trace of it now, and he finds that unsettling.

While his words might sound scolding out of context, they are heavily schooled by concern evident in his inflection.]

Asking me that as if you don't already know what I'm about to say. [A beat.] You've not been in class. And you failed to respond to my texts from a few days ago.

[So what? What does it matter if he hasn't been in class? And what does it matter if he hasn't responded to texts? Izunia shouldn't be texting him in the first place, honestly. They're student and teacher--they're not friends. So why does Ardyn have that look on his face? And why does he sound concerned?

Maybe he hasn't realized yet that he shouldn't bother being concerned for him.]

So what? I didn't realize it was part of class expectations that we be available at your beck and call. Might wanna think about putting that in the syllabus next time.

[There's the tiniest pull of emotion in his heart, something that doesn't want to try and cut at Ardyn too. Dante shoves it down. He's made his decision. Now's the time to stick to it.]

[Ardyn reacts to his crassness the same way he does with everything else he deems not worthy of his time; it's figuratively waved away with his own response, as if it was barely there to begin with. Dismissive, even.

After all, the clever exchange of wordplay, sarcasm and all, is reserved less worrying matters. Definitely not now.]

Availability has nothing to do with it. You're purposefully misunderstanding.

[A scrutinizing look.] I was starting to feel concerned. Given our recent talk of memories, and in the context of your last correspondence with me, I feel as if my worry is justified. What happened?

Nothing happened.

[Dante folds his arms, knowing how likely it is that Ardyn will believe that. You don't just disappear off the face of the earth for four days because of nothing. But what can he say?]

I just realized I was wasting my time with this network and that I needed to focus on my real life, not these stupid hallucinations. So I left.

[Plain and simple.]

[That answer is utterly unsatisfactory, if only because Ardyn isn't buying it. If he were a lesser man, he'd feel insulted that Dante thinks lying so blatantly to his face would fool him -- as it stands, it's just another thing to wave away.

He focuses on what little information Dante does give, whether he realizes it or not. The mention of the network, of hallucinations.]

So you ran off. [Ran away, more like. The implication is clear.] Did it scare you? Whatever it was you remembered.

[An assumption, but Ardyn is willing to bet that may be what happened.]

[His hands curl into fists when Ardyn implies that he ran away, but he doesn't argue the point. He can't. Ardyn's right, after all.]

Of course not. I'm not afraid of these hallucinations. They aren't real.

[But it might be telling that he's gone back to referring to them as hallucinations, and in the way his expression hardens even more, as though he's trying not to let anything through.

He's not scared by these memories. It was never fear that sent him running.]

I'm just sick of people like you always getting up in my face and not taking the hint when I say to forget it. What's a guy gotta do to get everyone to leave him alone?

[Just leave him be, prof. He doesn't want to end up punching out two people in a week...]

Edited 2017-03-31 18:03 (UTC)

[If Dante thinks Ardyn is going to back down that easily, then he's quite wrong. He's equal parts too unexcitable and concerned to even consider doing so. Instead, he barely even pauses before he responds, his tone unwavering.]

Maybe these people refuse to do so because they actually care about your well-being. Is that so difficult for you to comprehend, Dante?

[He does allow himself an exhale, though it doesn't quite sound exasperated just yet.]

Whether or not they're real is another argument for a different time, despite having this conversation once before. What matters is if they bother you, I want you to be able to speak about it with someone.

I can deal with it on my own.

[It is hard for him to comprehend that other people might care. There's only one person--maybe two people--who've ever cared about him, and he's already promised the one of them still alive that he'd talk to her once he was back in town.]

Everybody says they care, right up until it's inconvenient for them. I don't need people who're gonna lie to my face and then leave once they realize what they've signed up for.

[Why does he feel like he's shaking a bit? His entire body feels like it's vibrating, like any moment he's going to buzz right out of his skin. Dante clenches his fists tighter, enough that he can feel his nails digging through his new gloves into his palms.]

I took care of it. I don't need to talk about it with someone.

And who's lying to you? You think I am? That I don't really care about my students, much less one who is going through the same sort of trials and tribulations as I?

[Commiseration, Dante. He meant it when he uttered the word before -- this can be difficult and confusing for the both of them, and Ardyn wants to offer comfort in understanding. In knowing what it's like, experiencing the life of another "you". In reconciling the idea of it with the life one currently leads.]

You don't give me enough credit. Not everyone is the same.

[Ardyn reaches out, placing an arm on Dante's shoulder. He can practically feel the tension radiating from the boy, but the professor is steady. Calm.]

Try having a bit of faith.

[Dante can't look at him any more. It's too hard, arguing the facts he knows against what he so desperately would like to believe. It's hard, convincing himself of this truth when Ardyn is impressing every word with meaning and something that isn't quite a plea, but more like an invitation: an invitation to let go of his fears, to accept that someone might actually care. His gaze drops to the ground, hiding his eyes behind his hair.

Faith, huh...?

What a joke.]

I don't know if I can.

[His heart is empty, after all.]

[His hand remains where it is, but Ardyn angles his gaze, as if to better gauge Dante's reaction. He can't quite (his student won't look at him), and so he can only guess based on words and tone alone.

There's something... exceedingly sad about that admission.]

I know you've the strength to, even if you doubt it in yourself.

How can you be so sure?

[It's not a sarcastic question, or an attempt to refute what Ardyn's saying; there's a little part of him that wants to seize upon that sentence, to hold it tight. His voice almost catches on the words, and Dante glances back up at Ardyn, and finally the conflict is visible in his eyes, torn.

It's probably not a surprise, but Ardyn's had the right of it all along. He's scared, and he's hurting.]

Why should I trust in anyone when they won't be there in the end?

[Sympathy does well up within him upon hearing that, and it's evident in the way Ardyn frowns. In the way he sets his jaw and presses his lips into a thin line, considering.

He wants to tell the boy that he's sure, that no one will ever leave him in the end, so he should give out his trust readily. But Ardyn, while a secret bleeding heart, is also not so purposefully misleading. The professor knows that life does not work in such a way -- that there will always be someone inclined to use others for the sake of convenience. He cannot promise that Dante will never meet another individual like that ever again.

And so Ardyn offers all he can. He promises what he knows will not change or vacillate:]

You can trust me, if no one else. I'm not so thoughtless or fickle to abandon you when you need it. Of that, I'm sure.

[His words, unfortunately, aren't quite enough to convince Dante yet. What could be? People can say anything, but there's no way to know if they're being honest or not until that resolve is tested. He wants to trust Izunia, to spill everything and let him help him make sense of it all... but it seems that in spite of how precarious the walls he's shoved up against everything seemed to be earlier, tearing them down is a bit more difficult.

He's had lots of practice at repressing the wrong sorts of emotions, after all.

For a long moment, Dante's silent, letting Ardyn's words fill the air. And then, finally, he reaches up to rub at his face with one hand, sighing.]

You can only say that because you don't know what you're getting yourself into.

["I know you've the strength to, even if you doubt it in yourself."]

But I... I'll try.

[Ardyn drops his hand to the side, seeming satisfied with the notion of... trying. How could he possibly ask for more than that? It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be reasonable. All he wishes for is effort, for now it's partly on him to live up to the expectations set. To the promise he just made.

He's confident in his ability to do so, of that he has no doubt.]

Let me worry about getting in over my head, hm? [-he offers, allowing the smallest hint of airiness to slip back into his tone.]

All I ask is that you try, Dante. There are some burdens that no one should ever have to shoulder alone.

[He lets a moment of silence pass again.] Do you want to sit? [And maybe, just maybe actually talk about what's bothering him?]

[Yeah, like Dante's not going to worry about what happens when Ardyn finds out how deep the rabbit hole really goes... after all, once he realizes that, it's only a matter of time before he gives up on him, right? But for now, Ardyn's stubbornness wins out, and Dante isn't going to argue the point. They don't need to go through the whole cycle again, especially since it seems like the other man isn't going to give up any time soon.]

Yeah, I guess.

Can we go somewhere a little less in the middle of campus?

[There's a reason he ran away, after all. If he wanted any random passerby to hear his struggling, he would've shouted it all out from Tribunal Terrace in the first place.]

[He nods, understanding the request. He had planned on finding a place with less foot traffic, anyway. This hardly seems like the location to have this sort of conversation.]

Of course.

[And so Ardyn will lead Dante along, away from the busier parts of campus. (Staff meeting be damned for now. Most of the faculty doesn't pay attention during them, anyway.) Eventually, they manage to find an open, grassy area near the architecture building. There's a nice little wooden bench, under the expanse of a tree. Peaceful enough, quiet enough.

Ardyn's the first to sit, but he won't be the first to speak. He'll let Dante start on his own time.]

[It takes Dante a little while longer to find his footing once they get there. As Ardyn sits, he tries to arrange his his thoughts into some semblance of coherency, wondering where he should even start. How long has it been since he told Ardyn about the things he's been remembering? What was the last they'd discussed? How much of it is relevant to their conversation here today...?

But finally, he'll retreat to the bench as well, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his hands.

This putting yourself out there thing is tough. Really tough.

So eventually, Dante goes with the easiest place to start, even though it's one of the things he'd wanted least to admit to Ardyn.]

I... don't know if he's said anything about it to anybody. I wouldn't blame him if he did; hell, I'd deserve it if he got someone to come after me as payback. But... I punched Prompto on Sunday.

I got this memory Saturday night, at the pageant, and it... [He swallows hard, clenching his hands together and imagining the knuckles going white.] ...it got to me pretty badly. Bad enough I said some pretty asshole things to him to try and get him to back off. Then when that didn't work...

[A shake of the head.] The other me had a life that was a hell of a lot easier. He grew up in one place and had these friends he'd made plans with to leave their island. But he fucked it up, too. He fucked it up even when everything was going right for him--so how am I supposed to believe I'm not going to wind up the same way in the end? I already knew I'd wind up by myself before this stuff started happening. But it's worse when it's getting thrown in your face.

[He's not making as much sense as he'd hoped he would. Dante can feel the stress building within him again, a sense of worry mixed with the resignation of knowing it would go this way all along, made worse in this moment by knowing that he's making an idiot out of himself in front of Ardyn. He just... he's a mess, and he knows it. He doesn't know how to explain the jumble of thoughts and emotions that are rolling around inside of him, set loose by the professor's calm and his willingness to listen.]

Sorry, I know I'm not making any sense.

[Brows furrowed, jaw setting, Ardyn looks nothing short of concerned when Dante admits to being the one who broke Prompto's nose. There's disapproval (because how can there not be?), but it isn't enough to overwhelm the delicacy of the conversation at hand. Nothing is so black and white -- Ardyn knows that while violence was probably the worst option to take, emotions often muddle the mind, and the effect of these memories can obscure judgment just as easily.]

He told me that someone had hit him. He didn't want to reveal who it was. He was afraid I'd think less of the person, and he didn't wish that on you. That's the sort of young man he is, I suppose. You should consider apologizing to him, if you regret your actions.

[But that's all he'll say on the matter. A hand comes up, rubbing briefly at the stubble on his chin, considering the rest of what Dante had just told him.] Don't apologize, Dante. How is one person supposed to make sense of these memories on their own? How is it fair that they're thrown into our laps and we're merely expected to accept them as they are? No one can blame you for feeling the way that you did. Even I have doubts about myself, if I take time to really think about the... experience on the train.

[But this isn't about him, and he continues.]

You can't affect what's already happened, what's already transpired in this memory of yours. But why assume that the same will happen to you now? That's jumping to conclusions, especially when you don't have the full context of what may have happened. And what makes you so certain that you'll wind up alone? There are obviously people that care about you, and are stubborn enough to try to get you to open up.

[Himself, and Prompto too, apparently.]

[Dante isn't looking up to see the expression on Ardyn's face when he mentions Prompto. He expects the disapproval; attacking someone like Prompto, who sees the best in everybody and obviously wouldn't know how to fight well enough to protect himself from someone like him... it wasn't a fair fight, not by a long shot. Ardyn's got every right to be disapproving of what he's done.]

Yeah, I know. He didn't deserve it.

[His voice is quiet, thinking back to what Prompto had said. He'd refused to believe that Dante wanted to be left alone, no matter how harsh he'd been. Prompto had stood by him, and how had he repaid it? By leaving him behind an alleyway with a broken nose.]

I'll talk to him.

[He listens as Ardyn continues and, though he doesn't want to wish his struggles on anyone else, it does help a little bit to hear that the professor is struggling too with his own memories, trying to reconcile the hatred and anger against the altruistic healer. It's not quite the same situation, but... it helps.

At Ardyn's last comments, he can't help the voiceless snort that escapes him, shaking his head.]

I'm not really... used to that.

[He still hasn't actually looked at Ardyn, and he's not starting here. Dante glances to the side, looking out over the grassy area nearby.]

There's only one other person who would've done that for me, and she's been gone for a while now.

[Ardyn leans back against the bench, though his gaze doesn't leave Dante's profile. While satisfied with the willingness to patch things up with Prompto, the rest of how that plays out depends on the two of them. There's little else ot be said on the matter, at least from Ardyn.

And so a quiet moment, then:]

Is it something you wish to talk about?

[An open invitation to, and yet, he'll still not push him to share. And yet, here on campus, quiet and peaceful enough under the shade of the tree, what better time would there be, if not now?]

[Does he want to talk about it?]

Not really.

[But after a moment, he shrugs his shoulders.]

My folks have been on tour most of my life. Dad's a pianist. Mom's a publicist. They didn't have time for a kid, so I grew up with my amma until they decided they wanted me around again. Then once they realized you can't raise a kid by giving them tutors and sending them off to tourist traps, they sent me back.

[Another shrug. These are immutable facts, things he knows so well they might as well be engraved on his heart. He'd realized their truth long ago, and his voice doesn't waver a bit as he lays it out for Ardyn to see.]

She's the only one that ever wanted to know anything. But she died, senior year of high school.

[Ardyn listens, eventually casting his gaze out towards the grassy area, but remaining attentive nonetheless. He shifts in his seat slightly, wood bench creaking lightly as he situates his elbow on the arm rest.

(Parents that cared only enough on the surface, enough to mold their child in a way that they saw fit. And when they couldn’t find success it that, they refused to put effort into understanding why. This rings painfully close to what Ardyn had experienced growing up, and it’s hard for him not to immediately draw parallels to it.)]

I know that it’s little consolation, and probably not what you wish to hear, but… I’m sorry. I won’t speak ill of anyone, but it’s difficult to justify being treated that way — tossed back and forth. I know what it’s like, having parents that cared in all the wrong ways.

[But this isn’t about him, and he’s not going to focus on that. He continues.]

And it’s not my place to ask for you to change your expectations of people overnight. I can only offer my own perspective, and take from that what you will. [He looks over at Dante properly this time.] There are others in this world who will want to see you succeed, who will want to see you be happy and not alone, but only if you’re brave enough to let them.

text -> action (lmk if this is ok!)

OF COURSE IT IS i'm just sorry i took so long getting back to you!

take your time! i've been slow as well

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