daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[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.

I...

[Words become lost to him, caught up in the realization of how similar Dante's own issues align to his own. There was something writhing within him, too; he's aware of that. They've had this conversation before. But he's felt it more than once, what with this new set of memories, refreshed once more, unwavering and just as strong.

He hesitates, deciding on what he wants to say, dropping his hand back to his side.]

I understand. I feel that fear, too, that there's something churning within you and- well, that you don't know what else to do with it, but you know it's done something terrible to the person you once were. It must have.

[Another pause.]

I don't have a solution for you, either. But maybe you don't need to fight it, Dante. Maybe it won't come to that, but if it does, you can only hope to rely on everyone else to help set it right.

That's what I've decided on for now, at least.

[There's something comforting in knowing that Ardyn understands, even as much as he wouldn't wish this sort of uncertainty and fear on anybody else. He nods--he still doesn't know where the other him ended, whether he ever conquered that darkness in his heart or if it destroyed him from the inside out, but there's a certainty that either way, the struggle had been long and painful.

The idea of having to rely on everybody else, though...]

I don't know if I'm very good at that.

[How often has he really been able to do so? For so long he's been by himself, put a front on for the rest of the world to see and taken solace only in his own solitude... but that isn't working any more, and it scares him to think that he's only holding himself together through sheer force of will. That sometime soon he might shatter and break, if he isn't already, and that maybe he can't rely on himself the way he has for so long.

And even the other him had, at least at one point, had friends to fall back on. Maybe he doesn't know when it fits into the timeline, but he remembers Sora pointing them out, him and the girl that he'd fought so hard to save, the two friends Sora had fought with and replaced them with (?), the king... he's got friends here, too; friends he never would have expected but who have somehow slipped past the walls he tries so hard keep up against the rest of the world. Ardyn and Prompto, Togusa, Grell, Noctis, Ari, Vera... maybe even Freya, who was willing to knock him out if she knew it would keep him safe.

Maybe... maybe he can rely on them.

Maybe they won't leave him behind if they see him at anything less than his best.]

But... maybe you're right. If I can't fight him off, maybe everyone else can.

[It's a battle he hopes they'll never have to fight.]

You don't have to be good at it. You only have to trust that there are those who care about you enough -- who love you enough -- to be there for you, whether or not you're prepared.

[He tells Dante what he had told himself over and over again. That if he cannot trust himself to retain the core of who he is, he can rely on those around him to tell him that he's veering off course, that he's becoming a man that he wouldn't be proud of. There's a vulnerability in giving yourself to others in such a way, but even if he's surrounded by a storm of uncertainty, there is one truth that shines bright: he has people who will care and who will support him, just as he will do the same for Dante a hundred times over if need be.

This is what he chooses to believe. It's what he can garner comfort in, when everything else seems too large to comprehend, too much for only one person to hold onto.]

We will all gladly fight for you, Dante. Over and over again, if we have to.

["those who love you enough"

His heart seems to stop in his chest, his breath catches in his throat and he can't seem to start it again.

Love?

That's a strong word, one that seems almost too forbidden to even think about (his brain kickstarts his body; the remaining breath rushing out of him as he begins to breathe again). It's always seemed too much to expect anybody to care, let alone to love, from the people he'd surrounded himself with here before Retrospec to all the classmates he'd had in his final years of high school, from all the "friends" he'd made traveling abroad on tour to his parents' staff. He'd never expected any of them to care about him for any longer than it took him to walk out of their sight--even his parents, the man who'd created him and the woman he'd married... Dante's never expected love from them, either.

He'd hoped, maybe, when he was a child and too young to really understand what his father's life and his birth had meant; he'd listened to the CDs that his amma played and pretended to be Andri Rantanen playing the piano himself, but years had come and gone and the man he'd met had been only a man, a man concerned with schedules and appearances and how the rest of the world thought of him and his little family, picture perfect and photogenic. He'd wondered, perhaps, about the woman that had given him life, the woman that had disappeared with the brother he couldn't remember, a myth or a dream that he'd come up with to explain away the rest--a mother who loved him, who regretted every day leaving her other son behind... but years had passed and no woman appeared from the past, no lady tried to reach out to him and see what she'd once known.

There's only one memory of love in his heart, an older woman with a broad smile, sitting beside him at the piano or holding him in her lap, dragging him into the house at sixteen by his ear so she could sit him down in a chair and lecture him before breaking into that selfsame smile and enfolding him into her arms. A warmth, a presence, something that filled every inch of the small house where they'd lived and, overnight, had disappeared entirely from his life. A memory of a young woman, shrieking in unrestrained giddiness as their car drifted across the asphalt, her dark hair pulled out the open window and tangled by the wind as he straightened them out and they shot off beneath the starry sky--a memory that might have been love, if not yanked from him so soon.

It feels like someone's just wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed, and his heart feels like it's twisting in his chest as it struggles to recognize and accept this new knowledge, this paradigm shift. Because this is Ardyn, and Dante doesn't have to question whether he means it or not because the other man has never intentionally lied to him and he can't believe he'd start now. Love--there are people here who care about him, who love him, who would fight for him if something were to happen and his heart lost to that darkness once again.

"Over and over again, if we have to."

He has to drop his face into a hand, letting his bangs fall forward and hide his face from Ardyn's sight. He doesn't want to cry but--goddammit--it's impossible to hold back, hot tears running over his fingers and following down to his palm. It's a quiet, silent cry, but his shoulders may give him away as minute shakes rock him.

He'll be okay; he just needs a moment to adjust to this new knowledge.]

[Every word of what he said, he believes. That Ardyn will gives his all for those he worries for, and yes, for those he loves. That he will spill everything within him for the sake of others, even at a detriment to himself, because he cares. He cares so much, and he wishes for Dante to be nothing short of happy, and to not be plagued with the doubts that these memories try to suffocate him with. Like the man he remembers, the one before the spite, the healer who took the illness of others and made the burden his own. The proverbial sin-eater, and so he would do the same in this life as well — fighting for someone else’s peace of mind, doing everything humanly possible to make sure that this darkness does not consume Dante in the way that he fears.

Whether or not he expected his words to cause this kind of reaction in the other, there is no sign of judgment nor surprise from Ardyn. He merely scoots closer on the couch so that he can lean over and pull Dante into a one-armed hug, letting him cry for as long as he needs to. If this is the comfort he can bring right now, then so be it.]

It’ll be all right.

[He isn't expecting Ardyn's touch, but by this point Dante's way past any instinctual response he may have normally had. He lets Ardyn draw him in, shoulders slumping forward and tension draining out of him slowly, some little part of him still confused even after what the other had told him. This... this isn't what's supposed to happen to guys like him. Guys like him are supposed to end up alone, isolated like he'd said so many months before.

He doesn't cry for more than a minute or so, rubbing his eyes as he might if he had a headache to wipe any tears away even if he knows that Ardyn knows. But he doesn't pull away just yet, taking a certain sort of strength from Ardyn's hug, trying to take stock of the feeling so that he can recall it when his confidence flags again, this sense of something stable in a sea of uncertainty. Because even while he can't believe in his own strength, his own ability to come out victorious of that potential darkness, Dante can believe in Ardyn's resolve, in the other man's certainty that he is loved.

"It'll be all right." Maybe... maybe he can believe that.]

Yeah.

[His eyes fall shut again as Dante nods, taking a deep breath and releasing it to try and find some sense of what's normal in all of this. He straightens up, glancing toward Ardyn, and while he still may not be entirely confident in what he's saying, the fear is gone from his eyes at least.]

It'll... it'll be okay.

Thanks, prof.

[If the fear is gone, which Ardyn can see that it has dissipated, then that's a step in the right direction. It means that he's provided some small amount of comfort, a seed that's been planted and perhaps can flourish and grow into something steadier and more grounding the future. With his help, he thinks, maybe they both can manage it.

Releasing Dante, he just gives him a tired, but certainly fond smile.]

Of course.

[He exhales softly, letting the moment settle for a bit longer before he gazes about the apartment.]

Now then, how long has it been since you've eaten something substantial, hm?

[The moment is over. Dante groans, running his hands through his hair.]

I don't think I want to answer that question.

[Dante please.]

And yet I'm asking it anyway. [Brow arch.]

Why are you asking when you already know the answer?

[He's just going to... keep avoiding the question, sorry Ardyn ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

Because I have the hope that you'd still make the attempt to take care of yourself.

[This is less disapproving than it is lined with concern. Ardyn lifts himself off of the couch, making his way towards the kitchen.]

What do you want? Let me prepare something.

[There's a part of him that wants to be defensive--to snap back at Ardyn and make him drop the topic, but he already knows it wouldn't work. Ardyn's proven time and time again that he won't let Dante drive him off. It's one of the reasons Dante trusts him so much! If anything, there's a larger part of him that feels abashed, that wants to explain to nip any potential disappointment in him in the bud.]

I've been sleeping. I kept... waking up last night.

Freya made sure I sat down and ate something yesterday. [He thinks. The entirety of that last fight is kind of a blur.] I just haven't today. I finally managed to get to sleep around 9 this morning.

[Just don't ask him about before that; look, he's been doing his best okay]

[He doesn't need to ask about before that. Not now, for there's a time and place for everything. All Ardyn needs to see to is that he's taken care of, while he's here -- and that maybe he won't need to rely on whatever methods took place prior from now on out because of it.]

I know what it's like to be unable to sleep like a proper human being. [Boy does he.] All the more reason why you need to keep your energy up by way of food.

[Don't mind him as he makes his way to the fridge and opens it up. What you go in here, Dante?]

[He's not going to argue any more. Instead, Dante's just going to take a deep breath before dragging himself up and off the couch again, slowly following Ardyn into the kitchen. It's pretty clean for the most part, though... sorry, Ardyn, there's not going to be a ton in the fridge. He's been gone for three weeks, what did you expect? He had to get rid of all the perishable food he'd had. There's still a few staples, though: bread, milk, eggs, cheese, and the freezer contains a few packages of frozen meat or vegetables. It's about what you'd expect from a guy that's been living on his own a few years so idk run with it it's all good]

I'm guessing you're not gonna let me tell you you don't have to.

[So he's just going to lean up against the counter, since it's pretty obvious that'd be a losing battle!]

Ah, you know me all too well.

[That's a yes, then. He knows he doesn't have to, but he wants to, and Ardyn can be stubborn, especially when it comes to aiding others.

There's not much in the fridge, but this doesn't surprise him. It's enough to work with something, even if that something ends up being a breakfast in the afternoon. Easy enough, with bread and eggs... or actually, he thinks, maybe an omelette would suffice.

At any rate, Dante's free to watch as he gets everything ready, crossing here and there in the kitchen.]

Indulge me, why don't you? It's not like I get to do this very often.

[Cook for someone else, he means!]

[There's something really strange about watching his law professor in his kitchen, pulling out ingredients and rifling through his cabinets. Dante watches with a sense of bemusement, staying right where he is, but when Ardyn speaks he shakes his head with a halfhearted snort.]

Is that so? Prompto told me a while back he came over to your place for dinner all the time.

[Had he said he had dinner there multiple times a week? Or just that he went over to hang out?

...eh, it's not that important right now, anyways. His point is made.]

"All the time" is a bit of a stretch, and cooking is not always involved. [Sometimes it's take-out that Prompto is already bringing over.] But I mean cooking for someone who needs the extra bit of help, for whatever the reason might be.

[There's something even more satisfying in doing it for someone else's sake. To add that small bit of comfort back into their lives, making them forget about (if even for just a second) whatever ails them.

He continues working, in the midst of beating eggs for the omelet itself now.]

You should join us.

[He's taken off guard by that.] --what?

[Sure, Prompto had said that Dante should come over himself, but he hadn't really considered the idea all that much. He's never considered that someday he might be a part of all that, that someday he might be accepted in such a way that makes him feel like it's okay if he doesn't have all the answers, like it's okay if he sits back and relaxes and listens instead of having to run the show himself.

Like he can be the young man he is, struggling to figure out his place in the world, instead of having to constantly be on guard and pretending he knows it all already.

It sounds...

It sounds really nice.

At any rate, it might be evident to Ardyn if he happens to chance a glance that Dante doesn't quite know how to handle this invitation, surprised by how casually it was thrown out there.]

I mean--

Okay. Sure.

Edited 2017-09-25 19:19 (UTC)

[Turning his head to catch a view of Dante in his periphery, it's impossible not to notice the way the offer has flustered him. Yet knowing what he does about the young man -- about how much of a connection with friends and family and those who sincerely care will aid him -- he certainly only finds a quiet pleasure in seeing that kind of response.

He doesn't comment on his surprise. He merely continues with both the conversation and his cooking, as if it was nothing to truly be surprised about.]

Good. I'll be sure to let you know when the next one is. You can always show up earlier; I'm sure you and Prompto can find something to entertain yourself with in the meanwhile. Or better yet, even lend a hand with dinner.

[That being said, a minute or two more and the omelet will be done! It'll be neatly put on a plate, and after digging around for a fork, he will present it on the kitchen table for Dante-- or whatever nearby flat surface happens to work.]

[It's almost a weird feeling at first: the smallest curve of his lips, the slightest pseudo-chuckle that makes his body shake. Man, as much as he'd deny it if someone tried to call him on it, the idea of going over to Ardyn's place and being dumbasses horsing around with Prompto and hanging out... it's really, really tempting. It feels normal, a world apart from everything else that's happened recently.

The sound escapes him and for what seems like the first time since sometime in mansion hell, there's a smile on his face, wistful as it is.]

Yeah... we probably could.

[As Ardyn sets the plate down on the table (a small two-person affair in a nook in the corner), Dante makes his way over to gingerly sit. He has no appetite still, but the food smells good at the very least!]

Thanks, pr... [The word dies on his lips; it feels strange to call him "prof" here, for a reason he doesn't yet realize. It's wrong, but...] ...thanks.

You can get something for yourself too, if you want.

[And with that being said, he's gonna go ahead and turn to his food? Ignore him, Ardyn, he's not so much of an idiot that he's going to refuse to eat. Get yourself something!]

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

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you brought this book on yourself

this book hurts me

i'd say you deserve it but i played myself too, this entire thread hurts

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keywords relevant tbh

good

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