No; I can't say I'm the sort who would find myself spilling my guts to Admin and theirs, either. I don't think many of us would, to be honest. But...
[ hm. he understands the discomfort, plainly, from the disquieted fidget in his seat. ]
They've altered our memories. I don't think it's unreasonable to assume someone with the ability to take them away could also see whatever they felt they needed to, in the name of their end goal. [ he deeply dislikes this prospect, but he can't deny it existed. ] The 'cycles' here seem to end each time due to the, ah. 'Infection' spreading out of control, or possessing someone whose abilities result in a wipe-out. [ which, understandably, was not ideal for any of them by any stretch of the imagination. ]
From what I understand, these cycles have been going on for a... long time. Some of us have been here from the start of his 'project.' I don't know who, and I don't know how long, but... to think this has been repeating over and over--
[ he cuts himself short; there was no point in dwelling, but he intensely dislikes the thought. were they even making progress? it was impossible to know if they were 'reset' at every failure. ]
...He's resolute. Absolutely certain that what he's doing is right, but... he's lost something. Someone-- family, I'm rather certain. It isn't some... deep-rooted altruism that motivates him. It's pain.
There are mages in my homeland who are capable of such things — extracting memories without the subject’s consent. And for a force capable of trivializing death, such a task, along with the manipulation and erasure of memories, may be simple.
[ Healing, summoning, long-distance teleportation, memory manipulation, time reversal. He’s seen all of these being accomplished through magic, just never on this scale. And if each individual element is possible, then ... he’s forced to accept that Abel’s explanation, no matter how unsavory, is at least possible.
It’s a sobering thought. The possibility that he’s been here for so long — that he’s died here before — and Vangeance silently stares out the window for a long moment as he processes it. There’s a sickly, heavy feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach, pervasive and nauseating, but he pushes it all down to deal with later, in private. His role necessitates that he always remain steadfast, and it’s only the pale of his knuckles, the way he laces his fingers tight, that betrays any discomfort; his voice remains quiet and calm when he finally speaks up again. ]
I suppose the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. Grief and the pursuit of an altruistic goal. [ The unspoken ‘but’ is obvious in his words, though. He gets why the thought is unnerving. Personal loss and pain can drive people to consider truly warped solutions. And while he can’t possibly condone this solution that the Administrator might have settled upon, he ... does feel a creeping sympathy for his reasons. That, too, he suppresses for now. ] ... may I ask what he’s said to you of his loss? He’d hardly seemed the personable type when we spoke. You must have earned a fair amount of his trust.
[ altering memories, manipulating time, manipulating death -- these are all things that should be wholly impossible to Abel's version of reality, but... well. this place disrespected all of that, and apparently his world was in the minority where those boundaries were concerned. he wasn't sure where that left him in the grand scheme of things, but he didn't like it, wherever it was. Vangeance was yet another example of an individual who cemented the idea these were real principles that could have very well happened. it wasn't exactly comforting, but he wasn't looking for comfort.
he gently nudges at his glasses, groping inwardly for focus and putting aside his thoughts and feelings for now. ]
I don't think it's a matter of trust. If anything, I think I'm... something of an annoyance, to him. [ there's a meager and self-deprecating sort of smile to accompany the statement. ] Apparently I've been a pain in his side for quite a while. I have that effect on people, you know? [ though he chuckles, there's little mirth in it. ] Even if I can't remember it, it seems we've talked quite a bit in the past. I guess I end up repeating myself... I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that.
[ it sets an uncomfortable twist in his stomach to think about. he'd failed, over and over again. 'we almost lost you.' he doesn't understand what any of it means, and he can't learn from any of his previous mistakes either. ]
But he's resolved himself to death, when all is said and done. He's willing to do anything, use anyone... even his own daughter to see this through. Someone with that resolve-- willing to suffer any cost, is...
[ well. he doesn't need to spell it out, how deeply troubling someone who was willing to die for their convictions, and could expect that price to be paid of others could be. Vangeance isn't the sort of company who needed everything laid out for him. ]
[ Vangeance’s expression remains impenetrably calm as he listens to Abel speak, but his hands are laced so tight they’re shaking ever so slightly, nails digging into his knuckles. Maybe it seems like indignity, or anger, or stoic discomfort. But in truth, Vangeance can feel tendrils of sympathy beginning to creep through his thoughts, and he loathes himself for it.
Because he understands. He truly understands what it feels like to be willing to cast away everything to accomplish a goal. For one’s own death to barely be considered a factor, and to be willing to hurt and kill and obliterate to sate one’s grief and anger. It’s all hitting a bit too close to home, and while a part of him staunchly loathes the Administrator for orchestrating this whole miserable situation, his conscience hisses at that same part of him: ‘disgusting hypocrite.’
... does he really have any right to condemn the Administrator for anything? ]
You do seem to have a knack for drawing out people’s emotions, Father. [ He smiles weakly, finally unlacing his hands and placing them on his legs, out of sight. ] And for someone who insists on seeming so enigmatic, you may be somewhat of a threat. I’ve been seeking out as much information as I can, but nobody else has offered this much insight into him.
[ ... he’s going to be sick. Not immediately, but as soon as he’s alone. That heavy feeling in his stomach roils and burns, building an acrid taste in the back of his throat, and he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Vangeance inhales slowly, exhales even slower, forcing his nerves calm. ]
I suppose this largely leaves us with two options, then. [ Focus, distance, suppress. His own feelings are inconsequential. And he needs to stay calm, to keep from unnerving Abel any further. Vangeance speaks quietly, steadily. ] Fighting the infection in accordance to his plans. Or ... dealing with him directly.
something about this has deeply unnerved Vangeance; what's visible of his face is... paler; his hands are trembling before he thinks to hide them from view. but the priest doesn't take these tells as signs of disquiet due to a personal connection with the Admin's conviction; he mistakes it for righteous indignation on behalf of those he'd sacrifice to see his end goals complete. it's a blind optimism, the desire to always see the best in others - both a boon, and a curse.
Abel apologetically drops his gaze into his half-drained teacup, though he's lost his interest in its contents. there's an uneasy ache in his chest, a guilt for choosing to extol unpleasantness over what should've been a light-hearted cup of tea. but for someone of Vangeance's nature, he feels it's important for him to understand the nature of their predicament. someone who would go to great lengths for others... someone who would sacrifice of themselves, without hesitation...
...well. it was only right, for him to know what he was fighting for - and with. whose goals they were all furthering, willingly or otherwise. ]
A threat; I guess you're right. I think he sees me that way, Mr. Vangeance.
[ well, it's time to unknowingly pour a great deal of salt over wounds he's unaware he's laid freshly open. ]
He knows, I won't let him do something so foolish. How could I...? [ it was the Admin's mistake, making his intentions -- playing the 'villain' of this story, of flippantly discussing the end of his life -- known to Abel of all people. ] To throw his life away, especially when there's someone waiting for him, someone who calls him her 'home;' I can't possibly allow that... He's lost something, and... he feels it's broken him. I can understand, even if I wish he didn't know that pain. [ and he wouldn't trivialize it by assuming he knew what it was like, even if Admin made the comparison between them himself. 'broken,' he said. they were different, and that loss was different, he was sure of it. ]
Making the world your enemy-- making yourself your own enemy... betraying those you love to get there... it doesn't matter how righteous your goal. Even if you achieve victory that way, it will be... hollow, at best.
[ yes... it was hollow, and empty, and it razed clean everything in its wake, because... in the end-- ]
You will be hollow. [ just an 'empty shell.' ] And everything you fought for will be gone. Things burn so easily, in that kind of fire... I'd spare him from it, if... I can.
[ Vangeance listens quietly as Abel speaks. And faintly, just faintly, he smiles to himself.
Abel really is a good person, isn’t he.
Abel ‘won’t allow’ the Administrator to give in to his destructive grief and anger, ‘won’t allow’ him to abandon his loved ones, ‘won’t allow’ him to burn everything to ashes in pursuit of a goal that might not even be attainable. Abel ‘won’t allow’ the Administrator to make that mistake. Vangeance can so clearly picture the argument playing out — the Administrator attempting to stay aloof and staunch in the face of that overwhelming, heart-wrenching empathy and kindness and optimism, so pervasive and yet still not enough, never enough to penetrate through that veil of suffering. But no doubt Abel will continue to try.
(If only he’d had a fraction of that same strength himself. If only.)
‘You will be hollow,’ Abel says, and it finally earns a tiny flinch, rousing him from those hopeless, pointless, disgustingly self-indulgent thoughts. Vangeance knows full well that that accusation wasn’t aimed at him, but it might as well have been, and there’s guilt in his eyes when he meets Abel’s gaze for a moment before looking away once more. ]
... you’re very kind. [ Said softly as he gazes at some spot on the table. ] And you aren’t wrong. But I doubt that sort of anger can be so easily quelled. Dissuading him ... might be impossible.
[ Vangeance looks back out the window. When he speaks again, there’s a note of resignation and quiet acceptance to his voice, a little distant and weathered. Like this is a matter he’s already given a great deal of thought, far more than should have been possible during the span of this conversation. ]
And he may consider himself too far gone at this point, after all he’s done. He may feel his only options are to continue and succeed, or to die. [ There’s still sympathy in his voice, but it feels oddly out of sync with his words. ] Your intentions are good and noble, Father. But I wouldn’t wish for you to be hurt trying to accomplish something that can’t be done.
he studies Vangeance's face, his eyes... the far-away quality to his expression, as if he isn't really here. somewhere else inside himself, seeing something Abel isn't privy to, but he... knows that look. the resignation; the quiet tiredness; the empty sort of smile.
and his heart abruptly sinks directly into his stomach, with suddenness. he wishes he could take it back - that look on the other man's face. he wishes desperately he could logic it away as anything other than what it was.
so then, he too...
...
Abel grimaces, once more finding solace in a vacant stare into his cooling tea. ]
There is no such thing as 'too far gone.'
[ the words are quiet. he realizes that lines have blurred, somewhere in this discussion. and though they're still speaking of Admin, on the surface... these words are no longer about or for that man. ]
No matter how far any of us go down that road, it isn't too late to turn back. Even if we've convinced ourselves there's no alternative, that we're beyond saving... there is always a way back. We may not be able to see it ourselves, Mr. Vangeance. But as long as there is someone out there to reach a hand out for us... even just one single person... we can start over.
[ just as steadfast as Admin's conviction may be to see his end goal to fruition, Abel is equally resolute in this. it isn't an angry conviction, nor one driven by hatred; his is one born out of love. and it wasn't just his own, he carried. it was hers, the one kind enough to have reached out her hand for him, once upon a time. the one who selflessly gave of herself until there was nothing left to give, in hopes of opening his eyes to a truth that had been in front of him his whole life-- ]
Even if we don't believe we deserve that mercy, it's ours to take, regardless.
We just have to be strong enough to accept it.
[ Abel, had not been. and he would do everything he could to be certain others did not make his mistakes. ]
[ ... Abel’s dealt with someone similar before, hasn’t he.
There’s a fervent determination to his voice now, and he doesn’t seem to be speaking in hypotheticals. Vangeance wonders what exactly happened in Abel’s past — wonders if maybe that’s the reason for the glimmers of something more somber and serious he’s seen in Abel’s gaze. It would make a lot of sense. He knows it’s difficult, persuading someone that they’re deserving of mercy, and an experience like that would leave scars on even the brightest soul. He hopes that, whoever it was Abel last spoke these words to, they had their intended effect, and that his mercy was accepted. He dearly wants Abel to be successful and maintain his resolve, and continue to say these things to others. Because — ]
Of course, Father. Everyone does deserve mercy. You’re right.
[ Vangeance’s gaze remains a little distant, but his voice is soft and sincere. As an individual, he does truly agree with what Abel is saying. All people deserve kindness and warmth and mercy. ]
On an ideological level.
[ He smiles, faint and rueful. ]
If we had an infinite amount of time, and could somehow guarantee the safety of everyone here, I would agree with you. But ... that isn’t the case, is it? [ He may have felt like Abel was speaking to him for a moment, but Vangeance isn’t so arrogant as to forget the subject on hand. The Administrator. This island. The fact that they’re all trapped here. As much as his chest still aches and his throat feels tight, he knows he’s not the one Abel is concerned for. He speaks steadily, but his voice is soft and sympathetic. ] I don’t wish to kill anyone either. But I would like to ensure everyone is able to return home safely, as soon as possible. If doing so necessitates stopping him by force, and I see a chance to take action, I won’t hesitate. A man like that ... he may choose death over failure. But I would take that risk.
[ He’s willing to accept the role of the loathesome hypocrite, protecting his own monster while striking down another, all so he can return home. Because he has his role to play there, too. Vangeance forces himself to meet Abel’s gaze. ]
Then... it seems that I'll become quite an annoyance for you, too, Mr. Vangeance.
[ slowly, he forces his hands that have gripped the cup uncomfortably tight as Vangeance spoke to unwind from the glass. it wouldn't do to break it. after a moment to collect himself, he finds himself able to meet the knight's gaze again with apology. ]
There's no way I could ever let you do that. To yourself, or to him.
[ and it has nothing to do with vows of pacifism, or his deep respect for life - though those were, of course, always in the back of his mind. in this case... in this particular situation...
it would be crossing a line neither of them could afford to breach. neither the Admin, or Vangeance. ]
It's easy to say you'll do what needs to be done for the sake of a righteous cause. You sound just like him, in that regard. And... can I fault you? No... I really can't. [ the irony of the situation wasn't lost on him at all. ]
But who's cause is truly righteous, and who determines that? You and me? Him? We should not play God. Not Admin, and not you, either.
[ and should Vangeance try, he would find Abel was very much true to his word, one day. ]
[ Vangeance watches the shift of Abel’s hands, the way those slender fingers peel away from the cup, stiff with tension. This ... isn’t easy for Abel to say either, is it? Guilt prickles at the back of his neck, adding to the dizzying cacophony of self-loathing and regret and resignation ravaging his nerves, but Vangeance is only silent for a moment before responding gently, ]
I would never consider you an annoyance, Abel.
[ It’s said with the same quiet sincerity with which he’d spoken of Abel earlier, saying he was the type of person who’ll be able to help the most in a place like this. Because that’s also still true. Abel’s answer is the righteous one, and Vangeance has no qualms about admitting it. ]
I hope you won’t misunderstand me. I’ve no delusions of playing God. I’m merely a selfish person protecting what’s dear to me. If doing so entails a cost, I’m willing to pay the price. [ He smiles politely, humorlessly. ] And please don’t forget that I’m a Knight. I do my best, but battlefields aren’t so peaceful that I can always guarantee the enemy’s life. [ His hands are dirty with blood from more than just that. ] I am not a righteous person.
[ His voice cracks just a touch at that last word, followed by a heavy silence. Then he adds, a little more softly, ]
I hope you succeed, Father Nightroad. I truly do. I ... would like to have faith in you and your convictions. I hope you’ll still permit me that much.
[ Maybe from another person, this could sound manipulative. Passive-aggressive. An underhanded attempt to shake Abel’s resolve. But Vangeance means, deeply and sincerely. Because if anyone is capable of granting mercy to someone like the Administrator — someone so similar to his own dearest friend — then maybe it would be someone like Abel. ]
[ he wonders if it's true - if he wouldn't be considered an annoyance, one day. maybe it simply wasn't in Vangeance's nature to think of him as such. the man was kind in ways Abel could deeply appreciate, even if the knight was unable to see them himself. he truly... likes him. talking with him is pleasant, even if their conversation had taken this darker turn; his heart is in the right place, even if...
...even if it meant he would do things that might put them at odds, one day. it wouldn't be the first time the priest had fought a friend whose best intentions lead them astray.
he leans back in his chair, settling his hands in his lap. blue eyes remain settled on his company; there's no judgment or accusation, and there's certainly no anger - just a quiet plea. there's a softness in his sympathy, concern, that speaks to how strongly he feels for the other man's plight. this went far beyond the island and its inhabitants. Vangeance had resigned himself to a terrible fate, somewhere in his mind; had he already crossed lines he felt there was no coming back from...? ]
...It's alright, you know.
[ the words are gentle. punctuated by a sadness - what had he done to himself, this kind-hearted fool? what had the world done to him for him to feel this way? ]
Even if you've given up on yourself... I won't. I'm a very stubborn man, so... please have faith in me until you can have faith in yourself.
[ Vangeance wonders if Abel would still be saying these things if he knew the whole story. ... maybe. Abel does seem the type. But it’s not the sort of situation he’d want to put anyone in, much less someone of Abel’s nature — so sympathetic, so kind, so willing to stand up for others. It’s all the more reason why he needs to keep a certain distance, temper expectations, save Abel that pain and make sure he’s able to focus on what’s actually important.
It takes some effort to meet that sympathetic gaze, but Vangeance forces himself. Smiles, trying very hard to mask those roiling thoughts behind the calm, pleasant face he’s so used to wearing. ]
I’ll have faith in you. I hope you’re able to dissuade the Administrator.
[ Faith in himself is a non-factor.
There’s a pause before Vangeance dips his gaze, shoulders shifting as he exhales slowly. That sick, acrid feeling still lingers in every corner of his body, but just knowing that Abel is so steadfast in his beliefs has helped him tamp it down for now. It reminds him there are good people here, people very much worth protecting, and he needs to focus; while Abel tries to reach the Administrator, he’ll operate using his own methods. ]
... I won’t speak of this to anyone else, of course. [ A promise is a promise, and he plans on keeping his word. He’ll abide by Abel’s wishes as best as he can. ] But would that also include the Administrator himself?
[ the carefully arranged poise, however much it had frayed around the edges, spoke volumes about what Vangeance was thinking. now that he had a better idea - even if just slightly - what was going on behind the other's guarded eyes, the priest was starting to find some sense of understanding. a grip to hold, somewhere to gain purchase hereon out.
but even so... it did little to absolve him of his disquiet. he couldn't pry, now; it wasn't the time or place. one day perhaps, he could find the source of whatever had put this horrible feeling he could feel lurking beneath the surface in the knight. he supposed they both knew he wasn't the sort to give up once he'd found it.
casting it aside for now - however difficult it was; his concern was itching at him, he focused on the present. later; there would be time later... he knew this was a matter that would be dealt with only by being patient and resolute. ]
[ He felt those last dregs of worry and sympathy in Abel’s gaze, and they leave little pinpricks of guilt lingering in his throat, sharp and persistent. But Vangeance shoves those thoughts down deep, alongside every other slimy emotion lurking dark in his veins, to deal with on his own later; for now, he focuses on the matter at hand, giving a small cant of the head in thought. ]
Not so directly, I imagine. But it seems ... one way or another, this matter will only be resolved by addressing the Administrator. Him, his staff, his daughter — Doll, I’m presuming. So I assume I’ll be speaking to him once more, sooner or later.
[ A pause before he continues. Calm, quiet, professional, like the Knight he is, just addressing the objectives and obstacles of a mission. And regardless of everything else, one of his objectives is to respect Abel’s wishes, to protect him and avoid damaging any progress he’s made. ]
However, I wouldn’t wish to damage your standing with him. For someone so secretive, the thought of an outsider knowing of his circumstances at all may be ... displeasurable. If there’s any chance my knowing of this would cause you any trouble, or earn you his ire, I will do my best to feign ignorance.
[ he can definitely appreciate Vangeance's thoughtfulness and foresight; though Abel is hardly worried about his reputation in Admin's eyes - he's rather certain that ship has sailed, considering - he doesn't want any further misunderstandings to worsen their gloomy 'friendship.' offering a small smile of gratitude, he lifts a hand and that habitual gesture - gently prodding at those glasses betrays his mind turning. ]
I appreciate your discretion... but it would feel wrong to deceive him, or to put you in that kind of position. I'm alright with you saying whatever you feel is best, should you talk with him again.
[ Vangeance was not the sort of man to inflame the situation unjustly; he hardly felt the need to police him. and if he were able to speak candidly, that would be best. for both of them. ]
I know I've already asked much of you, but please do me this favor, Mr. Vangeance.
[ he spread his hands, somewhat plaintively. ]
If you reach out, please try your best to see him as more than just the person responsible for bringing us here. He's lost something precious, and while I know that's what drives him... I also believe he thinks he's doing what's right. For us, as much as himself. It may not make sense - but... if you talk to him as a man and not as 'Admin,' I feel you might see it yourself.
[ perhaps it was that naive optimism, his idealistic nature that drove Abel to trust eagerly. but he feels there's a ring of truth underneath it all. maybe if Vangeance could see it too, then... that would give them both a world of comfort. they could be allies instead of terse adversaries. ]
[ He silently assesses that gesture Abel makes — the shift of glasses up his nose, what seems to be a thoughtful tic. The fact that it needs to be made at all suggests the matter has some nuance, and he’d suspected as much. Vangeance makes a mental note that he should tread carefully when broaching the subject. Maybe insinuate that he needled the information out of Abel, as opposed to Abel voluntarily admitting it.
And, similarly, he assesses Abel’s request, the idealistic way it’s worded, accompanied by that plaintive gesture. Vangeance’s holds his gaze steadily, silent for a moment after Abel finishes. Then he exhales, brief and hoarse. Almost a laugh. A little disbelieving, a little rueful, a little ... admiring. ]
You’re quite brave. I said I was willing to let him die. Few would think to ask for a favor like that under such circumstances.
[ Abel has every right to consider him an indirect threat at the moment. To deny him the right to speak of this very vital subject, and to attempt to oversee his actions. But the fact that Abel would instead make such a bold request speaks volumes about his willingness to still trust him, and Vangeance bites back another wave of self-loathing that wrings through his lungs.
He closes his eyes, considering his words for a moment before answering quietly. ]
Please rest assured. I never had any intention of viewing him so coldly. [ He wishes he could. But he sees far too much of his loved one in the man Abel’s described, and he knows he won’t be able to stay emotionally distant. ] But I cannot promise that sympathy will stop me from acting against him.
[ brave? the choice of word earns him a slightly quizzical look; he isn't quite sure about that. he trusts Vangeance... and to do otherwise hadn't even crossed his mind, despite whatever professions he'd made regarding potential violence.
none-the-less, he sees the heavy pause, the consideration - and some bit of tension Abel hadn't even realized he'd been holding in his shoulders slowly dissolved. with it comes an easier sort of smile, one of gratitude - and fondness. ]
That's all I can ask for. [ Abel would hold out hope that Vangeance might be able to see something in the Admin through his own experience. if he did, maybe it would prevent them from coming to blows - and if it didn't... at least they might have come closer to some sort of understanding. ]
...And for whatever it's worth, I know you'll do what you think is right. Selflessly, at that. Maybe a little too selflessly, actually. [ it makes him more than slightly sad to think about. the edges of something weary, and resigned in Vangeance's eyes - it really pulls at him. ]
In that sense, maybe you two have more in common than is comfortable, already.
Is that how it seems? [ It’s said gently enough, accompanied by a smile, but his genial facade is definitely flagging, that haze of guilt and exhaustion flickering in his eyes again. ‘Selflessly,’ Abel had said, and the additional stab of guilt lingers in the pit of his stomach. ] I’m not certain I would agree.
[ Because he’s not the one similar to the Administrator. He’s not the one who’s experienced true agony. He’s not the one with deep convictions and justified anger and a cause worth destroying everything for. Their only similarity might be an acceptance of death, but Vangeance has no delusions about his own end — his will be graceless and ignoble and leave only hurt in its wake. A coward’s ending. ]
But I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.
[ He glances down at his hands. They’re shaking again. But Abel will only be able to see the faint shift of his arms as he flexes his hands, forcing them still once more. ]
... I apologize. You were kind enough to invite me here, and I feel I’ve been terribly ungrateful. [ He wasn’t the one who brought up this subject, and he knows it. But that’s not the point. ] I’m glad you aren’t the type of person to be dissuaded from extending the same kindness to others because of this.
Abel can see that fact clear as day, but he can't for the life of him figure out what it is. there's an elusive piece of the puzzle hanging just out of his reach; what is it? what is he missing...? he can see it, that guilt that had begun to tread into self-hatred... what had spurned this masochistic ache? the priest doesn't understand its source, and it pains him to see it.
the self-deprecating words that follow that expression make him feel no better. and... he finds himself doing something rather uncharacteristically impulsive, in a moment like this one. ]
...You don't have to keep doing this. [ he knows he shouldn't. it isn't his place, and he's already over-stepped his boundaries. he's a veritable stranger. this man owes him nothing - no, if anything... it's Abel who owes him a debt of gratitude. he'd pulled him from the water, given him shelter... and patiently put up with him ever since.
but he can't seem to make himself stop, once he's started. it's just painful to look at. he feels like he'd go mad, if he let it be. ]
Putting that look on your face. You're smiling, but... it's like looking at a beaten dog.
[ Funny that that’s what makes him flinch. It’s brief but terribly obvious, the way his shoulders pull tight, a quick jolt running down his spine as he hurriedly averts his gaze.
The brief, hot spark of shame and embarrassment those words elicits is nothing compared to the guilt and self-loathing roiling in his veins. Barely a pinprick, really. But it’s a distant echo of the sort of thing he heard so much in his youth, and the abrupt change in pace oddly serves to ground him. Reminds him of who he is, what role he has to play, what beliefs he cannot help agreeing with. What he’s already prepared himself for. ]
It ... isn’t becoming for a priest to speak that way. [ His breaths had briefly quickened, but Vangeance closes his eyes, exhales slowly, and when he looks back up, he’s regained much of his calm. His smile has tempered greatly, but what remains is back to being impenetrable, rueful but distant. Gently chiding. ] But I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome.
[ There’s the quiet scrape of the chair against the floor when he stands, movements unhurried and graceful. His voice carries easily over the soft rustle of his cloak, magnanimous but firm, as he looks at Abel. ]
... please don’t dwell on what you said. I still have faith in your convictions, Father. I know you’re a good person.
It's just as unbecoming of you to run. Please sit down; I'm not quite finished.
[ it was important. this couldn't be left half-undone, half-started. if he let him run from it, he wouldn't look himself in the eye next time he saw his reflection in the mirror. when was the last time this man had truly seen himself beneath the layers of well-practiced and painstakingly up-kept facade? ...Abel understood, perhaps better than most, what that was like. ]
I'm not speaking to you as a priest, and I can't lay claim to being a good man, either. [ he is neither of those things, in reality. ] But please don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm not above it, however, if you don't give me a choice.
[ There it is. The side that had been lying in wait under all that cheer and goodwill and frenetic energy. (Another stab of guilt. He drove Abel to this.) Vangeance looks quietly across the table, though he also doesn’t sit back down. Then finally, he answers mildly, ]
I doubt you’re capable of that. Being cruel.
[ And he’s willing to call that bluff. Vangeance knows true cruelty, and the Abel that he’s seen so far isn’t capable of such brutality. For a bleeding heart like Abel, even that insignificant level of callousness must have taken effort.
His hand rests on the table, fingers slowly curving into his palm. ]
Please don’t push yourself. I’m sure this isn’t pleasant for you. There’s no point to this.
I wish you were right, Mr. Vangeance. And... for what little it's worth, the fact you can say that means much to me. It does.
[ it means this man had a kind heart that sought out belief in a simple, foolhardy priest. but he wasn't that man, and he can be cruel, and he can be unkind. the person the Knight had sat down for tea with doesn't exist; they were both just shades. specters pretending to be 'people' when they were very much something else. ]
[ He should leave. He needs to leave. Every last corner of his mind screams at him to turn and walk away, and his knuckles pale as he digs his nails into his palm. Vangeance knows that no good can come of staying here — he’s already allowed himself too much, indulged too much, showed too much.
He should leave.
But in the end, after a long, tense moment, Vangeance exhales softly, then sits back down. He’s spent years bottling up his thoughts and hiding his treachery. He can hold on for a little longer. He mustn’t be weak.
Vangeance is sure now that a more somber, weary side lurks behind that cheery persona Abel usually shows, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. Callousness doesn’t suit this man. Abel clearly doesn’t want to be ‘cruel’ — or whatever facsimile of ‘cruel’ he’s capable of — and if he can save Abel from that pain that by enduring for a little longer, then he shouldn’t be selfish.
Vangeance gazes expectantly across the table, even as he feels dread coil tight around his lungs. ]
[ he can see how difficult this is for him. every instinct has to be screaming out for Vangance to leave; it's palpable in the air, the sudden tension as his company battles with the desire to separate himself from this. it earns a great deal of respect that... in the end, the man once more takes his seat.
Abel offers an apologetic, and grateful smile; his heart aches viciously in his chest for him. ...he really does hurt to look at. ]
[ he wants to understand. it isn't for curiosity's sake - and he knows he isn't owed the answer. but as he said... he can be cruel though his motivations are much different than they used to be. he'll demand what he has no right to. he can be many things for the sake of doing all he can to dispel that look from Vangeance's eyes. ]
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[ hm. he understands the discomfort, plainly, from the disquieted fidget in his seat. ]
They've altered our memories. I don't think it's unreasonable to assume someone with the ability to take them away could also see whatever they felt they needed to, in the name of their end goal. [ he deeply dislikes this prospect, but he can't deny it existed. ] The 'cycles' here seem to end each time due to the, ah. 'Infection' spreading out of control, or possessing someone whose abilities result in a wipe-out. [ which, understandably, was not ideal for any of them by any stretch of the imagination. ]
From what I understand, these cycles have been going on for a... long time. Some of us have been here from the start of his 'project.' I don't know who, and I don't know how long, but... to think this has been repeating over and over--
[ he cuts himself short; there was no point in dwelling, but he intensely dislikes the thought. were they even making progress? it was impossible to know if they were 'reset' at every failure. ]
...He's resolute. Absolutely certain that what he's doing is right, but... he's lost something. Someone-- family, I'm rather certain. It isn't some... deep-rooted altruism that motivates him. It's pain.
[ his hands around his cup tighten, some. ]
And that frightens me.
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There are mages in my homeland who are capable of such things — extracting memories without the subject’s consent. And for a force capable of trivializing death, such a task, along with the manipulation and erasure of memories, may be simple.
[ Healing, summoning, long-distance teleportation, memory manipulation, time reversal. He’s seen all of these being accomplished through magic, just never on this scale. And if each individual element is possible, then ... he’s forced to accept that Abel’s explanation, no matter how unsavory, is at least possible.
It’s a sobering thought. The possibility that he’s been here for so long — that he’s died here before — and Vangeance silently stares out the window for a long moment as he processes it. There’s a sickly, heavy feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach, pervasive and nauseating, but he pushes it all down to deal with later, in private. His role necessitates that he always remain steadfast, and it’s only the pale of his knuckles, the way he laces his fingers tight, that betrays any discomfort; his voice remains quiet and calm when he finally speaks up again. ]
I suppose the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. Grief and the pursuit of an altruistic goal. [ The unspoken ‘but’ is obvious in his words, though. He gets why the thought is unnerving. Personal loss and pain can drive people to consider truly warped solutions. And while he can’t possibly condone this solution that the Administrator might have settled upon, he ... does feel a creeping sympathy for his reasons. That, too, he suppresses for now. ] ... may I ask what he’s said to you of his loss? He’d hardly seemed the personable type when we spoke. You must have earned a fair amount of his trust.
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he gently nudges at his glasses, groping inwardly for focus and putting aside his thoughts and feelings for now. ]
I don't think it's a matter of trust. If anything, I think I'm... something of an annoyance, to him. [ there's a meager and self-deprecating sort of smile to accompany the statement. ] Apparently I've been a pain in his side for quite a while. I have that effect on people, you know? [ though he chuckles, there's little mirth in it. ] Even if I can't remember it, it seems we've talked quite a bit in the past. I guess I end up repeating myself... I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that.
[ it sets an uncomfortable twist in his stomach to think about. he'd failed, over and over again. 'we almost lost you.' he doesn't understand what any of it means, and he can't learn from any of his previous mistakes either. ]
But he's resolved himself to death, when all is said and done. He's willing to do anything, use anyone... even his own daughter to see this through. Someone with that resolve-- willing to suffer any cost, is...
[ well. he doesn't need to spell it out, how deeply troubling someone who was willing to die for their convictions, and could expect that price to be paid of others could be. Vangeance isn't the sort of company who needed everything laid out for him. ]
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Because he understands. He truly understands what it feels like to be willing to cast away everything to accomplish a goal. For one’s own death to barely be considered a factor, and to be willing to hurt and kill and obliterate to sate one’s grief and anger. It’s all hitting a bit too close to home, and while a part of him staunchly loathes the Administrator for orchestrating this whole miserable situation, his conscience hisses at that same part of him: ‘disgusting hypocrite.’
... does he really have any right to condemn the Administrator for anything? ]
You do seem to have a knack for drawing out people’s emotions, Father. [ He smiles weakly, finally unlacing his hands and placing them on his legs, out of sight. ] And for someone who insists on seeming so enigmatic, you may be somewhat of a threat. I’ve been seeking out as much information as I can, but nobody else has offered this much insight into him.
[ ... he’s going to be sick. Not immediately, but as soon as he’s alone. That heavy feeling in his stomach roils and burns, building an acrid taste in the back of his throat, and he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Vangeance inhales slowly, exhales even slower, forcing his nerves calm. ]
I suppose this largely leaves us with two options, then. [ Focus, distance, suppress. His own feelings are inconsequential. And he needs to stay calm, to keep from unnerving Abel any further. Vangeance speaks quietly, steadily. ] Fighting the infection in accordance to his plans. Or ... dealing with him directly.
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something about this has deeply unnerved Vangeance; what's visible of his face is... paler; his hands are trembling before he thinks to hide them from view. but the priest doesn't take these tells as signs of disquiet due to a personal connection with the Admin's conviction; he mistakes it for righteous indignation on behalf of those he'd sacrifice to see his end goals complete. it's a blind optimism, the desire to always see the best in others - both a boon, and a curse.
Abel apologetically drops his gaze into his half-drained teacup, though he's lost his interest in its contents. there's an uneasy ache in his chest, a guilt for choosing to extol unpleasantness over what should've been a light-hearted cup of tea. but for someone of Vangeance's nature, he feels it's important for him to understand the nature of their predicament. someone who would go to great lengths for others... someone who would sacrifice of themselves, without hesitation...
...well. it was only right, for him to know what he was fighting for - and with. whose goals they were all furthering, willingly or otherwise. ]
A threat; I guess you're right. I think he sees me that way, Mr. Vangeance.
[ well, it's time to unknowingly pour a great deal of salt over wounds he's unaware he's laid freshly open. ]
He knows, I won't let him do something so foolish. How could I...? [ it was the Admin's mistake, making his intentions -- playing the 'villain' of this story, of flippantly discussing the end of his life -- known to Abel of all people. ] To throw his life away, especially when there's someone waiting for him, someone who calls him her 'home;' I can't possibly allow that... He's lost something, and... he feels it's broken him. I can understand, even if I wish he didn't know that pain. [ and he wouldn't trivialize it by assuming he knew what it was like, even if Admin made the comparison between them himself. 'broken,' he said. they were different, and that loss was different, he was sure of it. ]
Making the world your enemy-- making yourself your own enemy... betraying those you love to get there... it doesn't matter how righteous your goal. Even if you achieve victory that way, it will be... hollow, at best.
[ yes... it was hollow, and empty, and it razed clean everything in its wake, because... in the end-- ]
You will be hollow. [ just an 'empty shell.' ] And everything you fought for will be gone. Things burn so easily, in that kind of fire... I'd spare him from it, if... I can.
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Abel really is a good person, isn’t he.
Abel ‘won’t allow’ the Administrator to give in to his destructive grief and anger, ‘won’t allow’ him to abandon his loved ones, ‘won’t allow’ him to burn everything to ashes in pursuit of a goal that might not even be attainable. Abel ‘won’t allow’ the Administrator to make that mistake. Vangeance can so clearly picture the argument playing out — the Administrator attempting to stay aloof and staunch in the face of that overwhelming, heart-wrenching empathy and kindness and optimism, so pervasive and yet still not enough, never enough to penetrate through that veil of suffering. But no doubt Abel will continue to try.
(If only he’d had a fraction of that same strength himself. If only.)
‘You will be hollow,’ Abel says, and it finally earns a tiny flinch, rousing him from those hopeless, pointless, disgustingly self-indulgent thoughts. Vangeance knows full well that that accusation wasn’t aimed at him, but it might as well have been, and there’s guilt in his eyes when he meets Abel’s gaze for a moment before looking away once more. ]
... you’re very kind. [ Said softly as he gazes at some spot on the table. ] And you aren’t wrong. But I doubt that sort of anger can be so easily quelled. Dissuading him ... might be impossible.
[ Vangeance looks back out the window. When he speaks again, there’s a note of resignation and quiet acceptance to his voice, a little distant and weathered. Like this is a matter he’s already given a great deal of thought, far more than should have been possible during the span of this conversation. ]
And he may consider himself too far gone at this point, after all he’s done. He may feel his only options are to continue and succeed, or to die. [ There’s still sympathy in his voice, but it feels oddly out of sync with his words. ] Your intentions are good and noble, Father. But I wouldn’t wish for you to be hurt trying to accomplish something that can’t be done.
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he studies Vangeance's face, his eyes... the far-away quality to his expression, as if he isn't really here. somewhere else inside himself, seeing something Abel isn't privy to, but he... knows that look. the resignation; the quiet tiredness; the empty sort of smile.
and his heart abruptly sinks directly into his stomach, with suddenness. he wishes he could take it back - that look on the other man's face. he wishes desperately he could logic it away as anything other than what it was.
so then, he too...
...
Abel grimaces, once more finding solace in a vacant stare into his cooling tea. ]
There is no such thing as 'too far gone.'
[ the words are quiet. he realizes that lines have blurred, somewhere in this discussion. and though they're still speaking of Admin, on the surface... these words are no longer about or for that man. ]
No matter how far any of us go down that road, it isn't too late to turn back. Even if we've convinced ourselves there's no alternative, that we're beyond saving... there is always a way back. We may not be able to see it ourselves, Mr. Vangeance. But as long as there is someone out there to reach a hand out for us... even just one single person... we can start over.
[ just as steadfast as Admin's conviction may be to see his end goal to fruition, Abel is equally resolute in this. it isn't an angry conviction, nor one driven by hatred; his is one born out of love. and it wasn't just his own, he carried. it was hers, the one kind enough to have reached out her hand for him, once upon a time. the one who selflessly gave of herself until there was nothing left to give, in hopes of opening his eyes to a truth that had been in front of him his whole life-- ]
Even if we don't believe we deserve that mercy, it's ours to take, regardless.
We just have to be strong enough to accept it.
[ Abel, had not been. and he would do everything he could to be certain others did not make his mistakes. ]
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There’s a fervent determination to his voice now, and he doesn’t seem to be speaking in hypotheticals. Vangeance wonders what exactly happened in Abel’s past — wonders if maybe that’s the reason for the glimmers of something more somber and serious he’s seen in Abel’s gaze. It would make a lot of sense. He knows it’s difficult, persuading someone that they’re deserving of mercy, and an experience like that would leave scars on even the brightest soul. He hopes that, whoever it was Abel last spoke these words to, they had their intended effect, and that his mercy was accepted. He dearly wants Abel to be successful and maintain his resolve, and continue to say these things to others. Because — ]
Of course, Father. Everyone does deserve mercy. You’re right.
[ Vangeance’s gaze remains a little distant, but his voice is soft and sincere. As an individual, he does truly agree with what Abel is saying. All people deserve kindness and warmth and mercy. ]
On an ideological level.
[ He smiles, faint and rueful. ]
If we had an infinite amount of time, and could somehow guarantee the safety of everyone here, I would agree with you. But ... that isn’t the case, is it? [ He may have felt like Abel was speaking to him for a moment, but Vangeance isn’t so arrogant as to forget the subject on hand. The Administrator. This island. The fact that they’re all trapped here. As much as his chest still aches and his throat feels tight, he knows he’s not the one Abel is concerned for. He speaks steadily, but his voice is soft and sympathetic. ] I don’t wish to kill anyone either. But I would like to ensure everyone is able to return home safely, as soon as possible. If doing so necessitates stopping him by force, and I see a chance to take action, I won’t hesitate. A man like that ... he may choose death over failure. But I would take that risk.
[ He’s willing to accept the role of the loathesome hypocrite, protecting his own monster while striking down another, all so he can return home. Because he has his role to play there, too. Vangeance forces himself to meet Abel’s gaze. ]
I’m sorry.
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[ slowly, he forces his hands that have gripped the cup uncomfortably tight as Vangeance spoke to unwind from the glass. it wouldn't do to break it. after a moment to collect himself, he finds himself able to meet the knight's gaze again with apology. ]
There's no way I could ever let you do that. To yourself, or to him.
[ and it has nothing to do with vows of pacifism, or his deep respect for life - though those were, of course, always in the back of his mind. in this case... in this particular situation...
it would be crossing a line neither of them could afford to breach. neither the Admin, or Vangeance. ]
It's easy to say you'll do what needs to be done for the sake of a righteous cause. You sound just like him, in that regard. And... can I fault you? No... I really can't. [ the irony of the situation wasn't lost on him at all. ]
But who's cause is truly righteous, and who determines that? You and me? Him? We should not play God. Not Admin, and not you, either.
[ and should Vangeance try, he would find Abel was very much true to his word, one day. ]
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I would never consider you an annoyance, Abel.
[ It’s said with the same quiet sincerity with which he’d spoken of Abel earlier, saying he was the type of person who’ll be able to help the most in a place like this. Because that’s also still true. Abel’s answer is the righteous one, and Vangeance has no qualms about admitting it. ]
I hope you won’t misunderstand me. I’ve no delusions of playing God. I’m merely a selfish person protecting what’s dear to me. If doing so entails a cost, I’m willing to pay the price. [ He smiles politely, humorlessly. ] And please don’t forget that I’m a Knight. I do my best, but battlefields aren’t so peaceful that I can always guarantee the enemy’s life. [ His hands are dirty with blood from more than just that. ] I am not a righteous person.
[ His voice cracks just a touch at that last word, followed by a heavy silence. Then he adds, a little more softly, ]
I hope you succeed, Father Nightroad. I truly do. I ... would like to have faith in you and your convictions. I hope you’ll still permit me that much.
[ Maybe from another person, this could sound manipulative. Passive-aggressive. An underhanded attempt to shake Abel’s resolve. But Vangeance means, deeply and sincerely. Because if anyone is capable of granting mercy to someone like the Administrator — someone so similar to his own dearest friend — then maybe it would be someone like Abel. ]
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...even if it meant he would do things that might put them at odds, one day. it wouldn't be the first time the priest had fought a friend whose best intentions lead them astray.
he leans back in his chair, settling his hands in his lap. blue eyes remain settled on his company; there's no judgment or accusation, and there's certainly no anger - just a quiet plea. there's a softness in his sympathy, concern, that speaks to how strongly he feels for the other man's plight. this went far beyond the island and its inhabitants. Vangeance had resigned himself to a terrible fate, somewhere in his mind; had he already crossed lines he felt there was no coming back from...? ]
...It's alright, you know.
[ the words are gentle. punctuated by a sadness - what had he done to himself, this kind-hearted fool? what had the world done to him for him to feel this way? ]
Even if you've given up on yourself... I won't. I'm a very stubborn man, so... please have faith in me until you can have faith in yourself.
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It takes some effort to meet that sympathetic gaze, but Vangeance forces himself. Smiles, trying very hard to mask those roiling thoughts behind the calm, pleasant face he’s so used to wearing. ]
I’ll have faith in you. I hope you’re able to dissuade the Administrator.
[ Faith in himself is a non-factor.
There’s a pause before Vangeance dips his gaze, shoulders shifting as he exhales slowly. That sick, acrid feeling still lingers in every corner of his body, but just knowing that Abel is so steadfast in his beliefs has helped him tamp it down for now. It reminds him there are good people here, people very much worth protecting, and he needs to focus; while Abel tries to reach the Administrator, he’ll operate using his own methods. ]
... I won’t speak of this to anyone else, of course. [ A promise is a promise, and he plans on keeping his word. He’ll abide by Abel’s wishes as best as he can. ] But would that also include the Administrator himself?
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but even so... it did little to absolve him of his disquiet. he couldn't pry, now; it wasn't the time or place. one day perhaps, he could find the source of whatever had put this horrible feeling he could feel lurking beneath the surface in the knight. he supposed they both knew he wasn't the sort to give up once he'd found it.
casting it aside for now - however difficult it was; his concern was itching at him, he focused on the present. later; there would be time later... he knew this was a matter that would be dealt with only by being patient and resolute. ]
You want to talk to Admin about this?
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[ He felt those last dregs of worry and sympathy in Abel’s gaze, and they leave little pinpricks of guilt lingering in his throat, sharp and persistent. But Vangeance shoves those thoughts down deep, alongside every other slimy emotion lurking dark in his veins, to deal with on his own later; for now, he focuses on the matter at hand, giving a small cant of the head in thought. ]
Not so directly, I imagine. But it seems ... one way or another, this matter will only be resolved by addressing the Administrator. Him, his staff, his daughter — Doll, I’m presuming. So I assume I’ll be speaking to him once more, sooner or later.
[ A pause before he continues. Calm, quiet, professional, like the Knight he is, just addressing the objectives and obstacles of a mission. And regardless of everything else, one of his objectives is to respect Abel’s wishes, to protect him and avoid damaging any progress he’s made. ]
However, I wouldn’t wish to damage your standing with him. For someone so secretive, the thought of an outsider knowing of his circumstances at all may be ... displeasurable. If there’s any chance my knowing of this would cause you any trouble, or earn you his ire, I will do my best to feign ignorance.
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I appreciate your discretion... but it would feel wrong to deceive him, or to put you in that kind of position. I'm alright with you saying whatever you feel is best, should you talk with him again.
[ Vangeance was not the sort of man to inflame the situation unjustly; he hardly felt the need to police him. and if he were able to speak candidly, that would be best. for both of them. ]
I know I've already asked much of you, but please do me this favor, Mr. Vangeance.
[ he spread his hands, somewhat plaintively. ]
If you reach out, please try your best to see him as more than just the person responsible for bringing us here. He's lost something precious, and while I know that's what drives him... I also believe he thinks he's doing what's right. For us, as much as himself. It may not make sense - but... if you talk to him as a man and not as 'Admin,' I feel you might see it yourself.
[ perhaps it was that naive optimism, his idealistic nature that drove Abel to trust eagerly. but he feels there's a ring of truth underneath it all. maybe if Vangeance could see it too, then... that would give them both a world of comfort. they could be allies instead of terse adversaries. ]
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And, similarly, he assesses Abel’s request, the idealistic way it’s worded, accompanied by that plaintive gesture. Vangeance’s holds his gaze steadily, silent for a moment after Abel finishes. Then he exhales, brief and hoarse. Almost a laugh. A little disbelieving, a little rueful, a little ... admiring. ]
You’re quite brave. I said I was willing to let him die. Few would think to ask for a favor like that under such circumstances.
[ Abel has every right to consider him an indirect threat at the moment. To deny him the right to speak of this very vital subject, and to attempt to oversee his actions. But the fact that Abel would instead make such a bold request speaks volumes about his willingness to still trust him, and Vangeance bites back another wave of self-loathing that wrings through his lungs.
He closes his eyes, considering his words for a moment before answering quietly. ]
Please rest assured. I never had any intention of viewing him so coldly. [ He wishes he could. But he sees far too much of his loved one in the man Abel’s described, and he knows he won’t be able to stay emotionally distant. ] But I cannot promise that sympathy will stop me from acting against him.
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none-the-less, he sees the heavy pause, the consideration - and some bit of tension Abel hadn't even realized he'd been holding in his shoulders slowly dissolved. with it comes an easier sort of smile, one of gratitude - and fondness. ]
That's all I can ask for. [ Abel would hold out hope that Vangeance might be able to see something in the Admin through his own experience. if he did, maybe it would prevent them from coming to blows - and if it didn't... at least they might have come closer to some sort of understanding. ]
...And for whatever it's worth, I know you'll do what you think is right. Selflessly, at that. Maybe a little too selflessly, actually. [ it makes him more than slightly sad to think about. the edges of something weary, and resigned in Vangeance's eyes - it really pulls at him. ]
In that sense, maybe you two have more in common than is comfortable, already.
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[ Because he’s not the one similar to the Administrator. He’s not the one who’s experienced true agony. He’s not the one with deep convictions and justified anger and a cause worth destroying everything for. Their only similarity might be an acceptance of death, but Vangeance has no delusions about his own end — his will be graceless and ignoble and leave only hurt in its wake. A coward’s ending. ]
But I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.
[ He glances down at his hands. They’re shaking again. But Abel will only be able to see the faint shift of his arms as he flexes his hands, forcing them still once more. ]
... I apologize. You were kind enough to invite me here, and I feel I’ve been terribly ungrateful. [ He wasn’t the one who brought up this subject, and he knows it. But that’s not the point. ] I’m glad you aren’t the type of person to be dissuaded from extending the same kindness to others because of this.
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Abel can see that fact clear as day, but he can't for the life of him figure out what it is. there's an elusive piece of the puzzle hanging just out of his reach; what is it? what is he missing...? he can see it, that guilt that had begun to tread into self-hatred... what had spurned this masochistic ache? the priest doesn't understand its source, and it pains him to see it.
the self-deprecating words that follow that expression make him feel no better. and... he finds himself doing something rather uncharacteristically impulsive, in a moment like this one. ]
...You don't have to keep doing this. [ he knows he shouldn't. it isn't his place, and he's already over-stepped his boundaries. he's a veritable stranger. this man owes him nothing - no, if anything... it's Abel who owes him a debt of gratitude. he'd pulled him from the water, given him shelter... and patiently put up with him ever since.
but he can't seem to make himself stop, once he's started. it's just painful to look at. he feels like he'd go mad, if he let it be. ]
Putting that look on your face. You're smiling, but... it's like looking at a beaten dog.
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The brief, hot spark of shame and embarrassment those words elicits is nothing compared to the guilt and self-loathing roiling in his veins. Barely a pinprick, really. But it’s a distant echo of the sort of thing he heard so much in his youth, and the abrupt change in pace oddly serves to ground him. Reminds him of who he is, what role he has to play, what beliefs he cannot help agreeing with. What he’s already prepared himself for. ]
It ... isn’t becoming for a priest to speak that way. [ His breaths had briefly quickened, but Vangeance closes his eyes, exhales slowly, and when he looks back up, he’s regained much of his calm. His smile has tempered greatly, but what remains is back to being impenetrable, rueful but distant. Gently chiding. ] But I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome.
[ There’s the quiet scrape of the chair against the floor when he stands, movements unhurried and graceful. His voice carries easily over the soft rustle of his cloak, magnanimous but firm, as he looks at Abel. ]
... please don’t dwell on what you said. I still have faith in your convictions, Father. I know you’re a good person.
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[ it was important. this couldn't be left half-undone, half-started. if he let him run from it, he wouldn't look himself in the eye next time he saw his reflection in the mirror. when was the last time this man had truly seen himself beneath the layers of well-practiced and painstakingly up-kept facade? ...Abel understood, perhaps better than most, what that was like. ]
I'm not speaking to you as a priest, and I can't lay claim to being a good man, either. [ he is neither of those things, in reality. ] But please don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm not above it, however, if you don't give me a choice.
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I doubt you’re capable of that. Being cruel.
[ And he’s willing to call that bluff. Vangeance knows true cruelty, and the Abel that he’s seen so far isn’t capable of such brutality. For a bleeding heart like Abel, even that insignificant level of callousness must have taken effort.
His hand rests on the table, fingers slowly curving into his palm. ]
Please don’t push yourself. I’m sure this isn’t pleasant for you. There’s no point to this.
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[ it means this man had a kind heart that sought out belief in a simple, foolhardy priest. but he wasn't that man, and he can be cruel, and he can be unkind. the person the Knight had sat down for tea with doesn't exist; they were both just shades. specters pretending to be 'people' when they were very much something else. ]
Please sit down.
[ please. ]
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He should leave.
But in the end, after a long, tense moment, Vangeance exhales softly, then sits back down. He’s spent years bottling up his thoughts and hiding his treachery. He can hold on for a little longer. He mustn’t be weak.
Vangeance is sure now that a more somber, weary side lurks behind that cheery persona Abel usually shows, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. Callousness doesn’t suit this man. Abel clearly doesn’t want to be ‘cruel’ — or whatever facsimile of ‘cruel’ he’s capable of — and if he can save Abel from that pain that by enduring for a little longer, then he shouldn’t be selfish.
Vangeance gazes expectantly across the table, even as he feels dread coil tight around his lungs. ]
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Abel offers an apologetic, and grateful smile; his heart aches viciously in his chest for him. ...he really does hurt to look at. ]
It's very lonely. Whatever you've resigned yourself to... it's lonely, isn't it?
[ he wants to understand. it isn't for curiosity's sake - and he knows he isn't owed the answer. but as he said... he can be cruel though his motivations are much different than they used to be. he'll demand what he has no right to. he can be many things for the sake of doing all he can to dispel that look from Vangeance's eyes. ]
Why?
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