daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[...yeah, okay, fine. He can't continue being this petulant when Ardyn's only trying to help him.]

i'll come to you, where are you

[If Ardyn had been in the middle of typing up a response to the first text, long and drawn out, he can safely delete it now, in favor of something simpler.

also timey-wimey stuff, this is after he's finished spending time with Grell or something WAVES HAND]

I'm at home now. But I'd rather meet you where you happen to be.

[Especially if he's injured.]

and let you know where i live so you can barge in whenever you want?

[He's just being whiny now. Fine, fine, Dante sends him the address, an apartment in Birch Hills that (if Ardyn knows them) is actually just down the hall from where Sorey and Mikleo live. Come on over if you want, Ardyn.]

[Sorry, but there is no response to the whininess, other than a simple "I'll be there soon", and he keeps to his word.

It doesn't take Ardyn very long to arrive. Dante will be hearing a knock at his apartment door soon after, an eager-sounding thing.]

[Uuuuuuuugh whyyyyyyyy okay, okay, Dante's dragging himself up and opening the door for Ardyn, and if there's one thing Ardyn will notice right off the bat, it's that he looks like hell. There are dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes and his hair is a mess, hinting at the fact that he's only just gotten up a bit ago. He's wearing the lightest t-shirt he could find in his drawers and a pair of dark grey pajama pants, but the suit he'd been wearing when he turned back up in the city is in a pile next to the door, left where he'd stripped out of it as soon as he got in.

Beyond Dante, the living room is fairly normal, save for a baby grand at the far end of the room next to the large windows (but knowing who his father is, is that any surprise?). Dante's been sleeping on the couch, if the pillow and blanket are any indication, and on the coffee table alongside a bottle of whiskey is a bottle of ibuprofen, a pack of NyQuil, and some rubbing alcohol and bandages. Your disaster child's been at it again, Ardyn.]

Hey.

[Dante's not meeting Ardyn's eyes quite yet. Sorry, prof, he's... trying to process a lot. He's confessed some of it to Grell already, but he's still hurting and he's Tired.]

Come on in.

[If Ardyn wasn't concerned before (he was), he certainly is now. Dante looks terrible, worse than he imagined. Ardyn looks tired, exhausted even, but he's manged to at least look put-together by strength of willpower alone. Dante, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have bothered with even that much.

He frowns. Empathy surges forth, as it should with anyone who might align themselves with being a healer. A friend. A father figure to this boy.]

Dante...

[He almost doesn't know what to say when he steps in. He manages to tear his gaze away from his student to the surroundings instead, and it honestly doesn't make him feel any better.]

You look terrible. [Eyes return to searching him. There's more to this than mere injuries.] Sit down on the couch. [And then he can ask questions.]

Yeah.

[More than anything that might tell Ardyn how he is--the fact that Dante's not even trying to summon up a hint of his usual cocksure swagger. He shuts the door behind them, starts to head toward the couch... but stops halfway there, glancing back over his shoulder.]

Do you want anything...? Water, drinks...?

[Look, once he's sitting down, he doesn't want to get back up again, all right.]

No, I'm fine.

[He doesn't require anything, for his own wants and needs are taking a very far backseat right now. He follows, though he does pointedly stop by the coffee table and grabs the bottle of whiskey, examining it with a frown.

He looks at Dante, and disapproval would come faster if not for the fact that he's not sure it's suited to the situation right now. He needs to hear the entirety of what's ailing him first, and so the bottle is set down soon after.]

You, on the other hand... [A pause.] What happened while you were away? Something is very obviously bothering you, and it isn't just the injuries, is it?

[Dante's not going to admit to the fact that he mixed it with the NyQuil to sleep. That's a secret that's going with him to the grave.

He winces slightly as he drops down onto the couch, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the back to make room for Ardyn to sit too. Even beyond all of his other injuries, his entire body still aches--he's not this other Dante, he doesn't have the stamina and strength to fight for hours on end.

He doesn't want to talk about everything that's happened these past few weeks. But if there's one person that would see through his attempts to deflect, it's probably Ardyn. Beyond that, he's already told Grell some of it, so it's a fair guess that she might have passed it on to him since they're dating... (He's got no idea that the two of them were together earlier, otherwise he'd be even more expectant that that was the case.)

So Dante just turns his gaze to his hands, nodding.]

There's... a lot. The first couple weeks weren't that bad, but this last week we were in this haunted mansion...

[Almost without thinking he's drawing his feet up onto the couch, folding his arms and resting them on his knees--folding into himself.]

Two people died. And at least one of them, he was just a kid... it was my fault.

I almost killed another kid later on. Freya almost killed me. Somehow they took away everything I'd remembered so far--how to fight, even my sword--I couldn't help anyone.

[There's a part of him (the guilt speaking, he knows; it's not something he actually wants) that almost wishes Freya had been able to. At least then he wouldn't feel like he'd failed them; he would have given it his all.]

Edited (fixing a couple things!) 2017-09-01 18:58 (UTC)

[Ardyn sits, intent on listening. There are certain details that are impossible to escape notice of, even if one is trying to stay purposefully oblivious. The death of other Retrospec users certainly qualifies, and suddenly he feels a heavy weight in his chest. A want to shift this burden away from Dante, even if he knows that such a thing is not possible -- his magic certainly doesn't work miracles of that degree.

He's sorry, he wants to say. And yet how useless of a sentiment that would be. It's kept leashed in by his tongue for now, and he opts to explore what churns in Dante's mind first.

And so he responds with a question, plain and simple that it is. Frown still etched into his features, unlikely to dissipate any time soon.]

And why do you blame yourself? We were all surrounded by circumstances beyond our control.

Because it was my fault! [If this were a normal day, this would be where Dante surged up from the couch, frustrated. But he can't right now; he doesn't have the energy or the strength, and so all he does is tighten his grip on his arms, his broken hand protesting at the sudden tension.]

It was some sort of fucked-up game; this ghost had us both trapped and there were blades hanging over both of us... Toushiro was so scared he was crying and I was trying to throw the game, but I... I screwed up. I won.

[He squeezes his eyes shut, but it's not like he can forget what happened next. Dante's pretty sure seeing Toushiro bisected by the blade is going to stick with him for the rest of his life, even if the blade had seemed to pass straight through him like Dante's own blade might have.]

It fell right through him. They cut him in half and I couldn't even stand up, and it's all because I fucked up...!

[Why doesn't anybody seem to understand this? It's his fault. He'd started to think that maybe for once he could take the lead, that maybe he wouldn't somehow mess up and lead them wrong, but clearly that was just wishful thinking.]

[He sets his jaw, and listening to this, he knows that nothing he says will be paramount enough to offer any real consolation. To make what Dante is feeling disappear completely; the guilt and sorrow are too poignant and still too fresh. Any attempts at offering consolation to make it "all better" will sound baseless and insincere, and that's the last thing that Ardyn wants.

But there's only so much blame that he will allow the young man to place upon himself. If he cannot be rid of it completely, at least let him lighten the load.

Ardyn sets his jaw, then speaks.]

You said it yourself. It was a game, with predetermined rules that made it sound like it was not going to end well from the start. The circumstances are to blame, Dante; you did your best, but there are times in which we simply cannot save... [A hesitation. This is hard for him to admit, too, because both of them know how much Ardyn wants to save-] ...everyone.

["I'm sorry" still doesn't feel like enough. But he offers it anyway.]

I'm sorry, I wish... I could tell you something to make it better. But you need to take care of yourself in the meanwhile. You need to rest, and give yourself ample time to sort this through your head. I'm here for you to talk to me, even if it's the same thing over and over, even if it's just a soundboard that you require.

[He will stay with him all day today, taking care of him, if he has to.]

[He recognizes how difficult it is for Ardyn to admit that sometimes they can't save everyone, but still Dante shakes his head. It should have been him. If anybody had to die, it should have been him...]

I can't.

[He shakes his head again, gripping his arms again.]

I can't sleep.

There... [He lifts his left hand, rubbing at his face as though it will make this any easier.] There're a lot of things I hadn't told you yet. It felt like all I was doing was whining about the memories we were getting back.

[So getting any rest and sorting through all of this... yeah, that's not going to happen. Not while these nightmares are persisting.]

[Ardyn will be here through the blasted nightmares, if need be. Dante's well-being is important to him, and if he can facilitate the smallest peace of mind (even if it isn't sleep) by simply being here, then so be it.]

Then share what you haven't told me yet.

[He offers a hand out, as well. Ardyn hasn't forgotten about the healing either.]

And please, give me your hand.

[He already knows it's a battle he won't win.]

Don't do too much. You shouldn't have to feel it just because I was a dumbass and got hurt.

[And he'll place his hand in Ardyn's, not able to meet the professor's eyes. His right hand has an ugly bruise across the top of it, a dark, sharp line marking out where one of the bones has broken, and his middle, ring, and pinky fingers are scabbed over with deep cuts from where he'd been holding a jagged piece of broken glass as a weapon.]

Hey, prof... before I do. What's the worst thing you've remembered so far?

[Just. Give him a idea of how bad this is going to be to explain.]

Edited (shhh... tags at 2am are a bad plan) 2017-09-05 14:29 (UTC)

[He frowns down at Dante's hands, marred as they are. Bruised and broken as they look. His touch is gentle, as if he's afraid to cause him more pain, even as he takes his hand, lightly. God, what did he do to garner such injuries?

He pauses, though, eyes flickering up at him when such a question is asked. It's hesitation, true and clear, something not always so easily shown from Ardyn. He knows the answer, almost immediately, but how eager he is to share it with Dante is... questionable. It is not out of distrust, but merely because he fears what he may think of him if he were to give the details in full.

Perhaps, then, he can answer truthfully while still cutting away the truly troublesome part.]

It wasn't so much a memory as it was a... feeling.

[That strong disdain, that wish to hurt someone he knew. Prompto's face flickers through his memory.]

Will you not mention it to anyone else if I explain further?

[He knows it's a tough question he's asked, but still--Dante's not expecting the hesitation. Not in the way it manifests, at least; not with that air of uncertainty.

Is it really that bad...?

He's nodding though, for once actually looking Ardyn straight in the eyes.]

Yeah. I promise.

[For some reason, he decides immediately that this will be easier to talk about when he's in the process of healing Dante. A distraction, perhaps, or a reason to bring his gaze down at the boy's hands instead.

Magic begins to flow, his fingertrips glowing. Warmth to spread across Dante's hands, filtering out pain and injury so that he may feel it instead. He keeps his expression steady, and for once the conversation at hand is more prevalent to him right now.]

Twice, now, when I've experienced my memories.... I've felt like a man filled with something akin to anger. A spite that I had directed very specifically to others. I'm... I was a healer, wasn't I? And yet I very distinctly wanted to make one faceless man suffer, and another-

[The one that was not so faceless. The one that was Prompto.]

...well, the other, I thought of him as a disposable thing. I don't know why. And that bothers me.

You mentioned that before. One was on the train, right?

[Dante watches the glow of Ardyn's magic, taking a deep breath as he feels the warmth spreading through his hands, broken bone re-knitting itself together and the cuts in his fingers sealing closed. His other hand finds a stray thread on his pants, fiddling with it as he tries to avoid thinking about the pain Ardyn must be feeling in his stead. It's not fair to ask this of him, and yet Ardyn hadn't been willing to let him refuse...]

People aren't disposable. I'd be more surprised if it didn't bother you.

[Even though he's teased Ardyn about being a bleeding heart, he's never meant it in a demeaning way. Ardyn's one of those people that cares about everyone, no matter who they are. He's not the type to look at somebody and think they aren't worth anything.

His words give Dante the push he needs, though, and the words come spilling out, the memories he hasn't told anybody else yet.]

...there's another kid on the network now. Sora.

The two of us knew each other in our memories. I... we were friends, in the beginning; I remember being with him and another girl on an island, racing each other and making plans to build a raft and leave. But something changed. We wound up on opposite sides somehow--I accused him of abandoning us for new friends, he told me I didn't have a conscience... he might've been right. That other me... I think he kidnapped somebody, a princess. But he did it because their third friend was missing and that witch had promised to help him find her.

[Whether or not Ardyn's done with his hands, Dante's left one comes up to tangle in his hair, elbow resting on his knee as he stares into his memories as though they were real.]

I still don't know how everything fits together. I don't know when I was leaving that castle or jumping off a skyscraper or meeting this king or anything. But that witch was right. I... he did let the darkness into his heart. He told Sora he could control the Heartless. Sora told him he was stupid and that the darkness would swallow his heart... [A single humorless chuckle.] He was right.

That darkness... he was being controlled by it. There was another man using it, possessing him...

I remember trying to kill Sora. But I wasn't the one doing it; I couldn't control my own body. All I could do was watch.

[Which loops them full circle to the crux of the problem.]

There were ghosts in that Hell Manor. They could... they could possess us, make us fight against our teammates.

[U see the problem, Ardyn?]

[It's funny, how practiced he is at ignoring pain these days. And there's something to be said about expecting it. Never is it pleasant, but being prepared does wonders, having a stubbornness manifested deep in one's personality (like Ardyn's) makes it less disturbing to feel as if his bones are fracturing in his hands, pain spreading.

He focuses on Dante's words. There was more than just the train, but he'll not continue about himself right now. He'd rather listen to what the other has to say.

Magic begins to subside as he speaks, and slowly Ardyn lifts his gaze up to him. He won't speak until he's finished, but he reads his expression closely.]

Dante... [Yes, he does. When reality runs too close against a person whose actions you don't want to repeat, he can only imagine what it must feel like.] You're afraid of becoming the same person in your memories.

[That is the real crux of the issue.]

[The only response there is will be a nod, Dante steadfastly avoiding meeting Ardyn's eyes.]

I... I almost killed Ritsu. [He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the oncoming panic as he remembers it yet again.] I nearly strangled him--I would've if he hadn't been able to stun it somehow! And then it used me to--to stab him...

[He turns his right hand over, opening his eyes and looking at where the cut to his fingers had been. There won't be a scar there; the only scar is the thin line from when he and Prompto did their blood oath. A much better scar to look back on.]

I would've killed him if he hadn't been able to stop me somehow.

[He's silent, letting Dante speak until he's finished as usual. The process of healing is done now, but instead of merely letting his own hands settle in his lap, Ardyn reaches out to place one on his shoulder. He squeezes lightly, offering what little he can at this moment, in the form of attempted reassurance. A gesture that at the very least lets the young man know that he's not in this alone, as much as that might help him reconcile everything that churns within him.]

You know that all of that was beyond your control? That you can't blame yourself when you weren't conscious of your own actions.

[But he can't just say that and expect for Dante to accept these words as truth. Ardyn is not so naive.]

There's a difference between what you just described to me, and consciously making that choice to let something dark into your heart. To allow it to control you.

But what if I don't have that choice?

[There's a fear in Dante's eyes when he looks up at Ardyn, a very real fear that every so often lays a chilly finger against his heart. He remembers what it felt like, when that pool of darkness in his heart twisted, when his arms and legs were stretched to their fullest against his will and, even though he'd thought it buried, that presence had started to surface to take him over once again...]

If Retrospec is doing all this to us--giving us these memories, unlocking all these abilities--what happens when they give that back too? There's no King Mickey here to fight it off like before; there's just me and I'm--

[He cuts off short, gaze dropping and glancing around for something else he might focus on before returning again to Ardyn. He's just him. Just Dante. He's weak when it comes right down to it, too weak to face his own emotions and fears. He's not somebody who can fight off something like that.

When he continues, his voice is quieter, almost a plea to the world itself.]

I... I don't want to hurt anybody. I don't want to be used like that.

All of those who care about you, here in this city, will do everything they can to make sure that doesn't happen.

[He frowns, meaning every word of it. He sees that fear lingering in Dante's face, and it hits close to home; these fears are also what he shares, in his own parallel sort of way. Of not wanting to feel what he felt in his memories. That spite, that hate.]

You don't have to be. You don't need to become a completely different person, other than who you are. There's...

[He trails off. This is a conversation he's had with himself, and with Grell, and all he can do is offer his thoughts on the matter -- and only hope that they can be reassuring.]

Do you think the you of now could be so easily overridden? That being bombarded with memories and abilities would change you overnight?

I don't know. [Dante shakes his head. He remembers the last time Ardyn asked him that question--the answer is the same now, but for a different reason.] If it were just the abilities, it would be fine. The memories... it'd probably be okay.

I'm just... scared. That one day I'm going to wake up and I'm going to feel that darkness in my heart and hear his voice. [His hand comes up to his heart--he can feel his sword's presence somewhere in there, waiting to be called, but right now there's no trace of that sensation that haunts him in his nightmares. He's just him, for now.]

If that happens... I don't know. He might take me over again.

I don't know how to fight it.

a couple minutes later...

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