[ 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. ]
[ How much can Abel already guess at? How much has he already slipped? Vangeance’s eyes narrow at Abel’s words — ‘whatever you’ve resigned yourself to’ — and adds harsh self-admonishment to the pile of putrid emotions sitting in his chest. ]
... it isn’t lonely. [ He answers first, softly, then pauses. Amends. ] Though I suppose it might seem that way.
[ In truth, he’s not sure. Is he lonely? His problem doesn’t feel like one of solitude, not since he was much younger. If anything, he has too much — two people to love and cherish, two causes to believe in, two lights to his life that he wouldn’t mind dying for. And while it’s true that his circumstances are unique, that there isn’t anyone he can consult ... any loneliness he feels is nothing compared to the hurt he’ll be leaving behind.
Vangeance gazes out the window as he mulls over his words. ]
But there are far greater pains than solitude, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure you know of far worse. On a personal level.
[ After all, the somber shadow he’s seen in Abel’s eyes isn’t one that could be born of a pampered, peaceful, happy life. ]
[ loneliness - and solitude - was a terrible sort of pain. it came in many different forms. it wasn't only the kind associated with pining after company; one could be surrounded by others, be beloved by many, and be incredibly alone. he feels Vangeance is acquainted with that feeling, well.
but it could also the crushing loneliness of being ostracized; the solitude of watching others obtain a happiness you will never know yourself. it's loving someone, and then having to live without them. sometimes, it's standing by their side and knowing there's nothing you can do for them. maybe Vangeance knew one or many of these; it didn't matter which.
they were all terrible and perfectly capable of destroying a man. ]
It was in your eyes. When speaking about the Admin. It was personal, for you.
[ He holds his breath for a moment, deliberating, then sighs. ]
In a fashion, yes.
[ He relents easily on this matter. Because he isn’t confident in his ability to hide it — the deep connection he feels to the Administrator’s plight. It carries the same desperate stench as Patry’s pain and rage and grief, which he’s harbored and justified and viscerally lived through for most of his life. Vangeance swallows thickly, then meets Abel’s gaze with a sidelong glance. ]
But I’m capable of separating my feelings from my work. If you’re afraid I’ll kill him for personal reasons ... I wouldn’t blame you for being worried, but I promise you that won’t happen. I simply want to ensure the safety of everyone here.
[ That isn’t the point, is it? Abel isn’t so simple a man that he’d prolong this tortuous conversation just for the Administrator’s physical safety. Vangeance knows that Abel is aiming for something else entirely, but this placid attempt to divert and conclude is his unspoken plea for Abel not to dig any further. ]
[ 'cruel,' he'd warned him. he refuses to give an out. for someone who had been hiding behind masks - figuratively and literally, perhaps - for most of his life, maybe he hadn't come across this before. it was... sad, if true. was there no one who had tried to pull out the man beneath them...?
he leans back in his chair, heaving a quiet sigh. ]
How do you relate?
[ Vangeance had denied the similarity to himself in Admin's plight. had he been deflecting...? no, the guilt had been so real in his eyes when he'd spoken those words. it meant something. then, someone else? a loved one, who held the same grim conviction? maybe...
...he forces the thoughts aside, focusing wholly on the knight with an expectant, but patient, silence. ]
[ Of course that wouldn’t work. Vangeance returns his gaze to the window. Abel’s eyes leave fine pinpricks of sensation against his skin, like needles burrowing deep. Maybe that’s why there’s a faint edge to his words when he finally responds. ]
Why do you ask, Abel?
[ He knows the answer to that. It’s because Abel is a fundamentally good person, sincerely worried for someone who appears to be suffering alone. So as much as it pains him, he can’t leave it at that question alone. Vangeance continues quietly. ]
You’ve said you’re speaking not as a priest, but as an individual. I’ve told you my feelings won’t affect my actions, and I’ve asked you to drop the matter. You’re willing to be ‘cruel.’ So you can’t driven by sympathy alone. Then — are you acting on your past experiences? [ ’Underhanded,’ his conscience hisses in his ear. ’Cowardly.’ And it truly is a cheap move, attempting to turn the matter back on Abel. ] Was there someone else in your past you interrogated in this fashion? I’d be curious to know if it worked.
[ perhaps he was pushing too hard. he knew if he did, what respect he's earned (however ill-deserved) will evaporate in the face of self-preservation, and Vangeance was likely to leave. Abel wouldn't go so far as to try and keep him here by force - he didn't want this to go so far, regardless. he wanted him to talk... because he needed to talk, didn't he? William just didn't know it yet.
there's no outward sign to give the other man inclination as to whether or not his words hit their mark. instead, Abel simply waits in silence, finding his hands loosely clasped around the rosary where its settled in his lap, draped from its long chain. the quiet patience and concern in blue eyes says everything for him.
he can wait. will wait. misdirect all he likes; they both know what it means. ]
[ The silence stretches on for a long moment, broken only by the soft click of rosary beads. Vangeance watches the way the light dances off them, bright and clean. Like Abel’s gaze. ]
... demanding the trust of others without trusting them in return isn’t cruelty. It’s cowardice. [ He smiles bitterly to himself. For real, this time, not that manufactured look he’s perfected since childhood. Hurt and weary and pathetic. ] I would know it very well.
[ Some respect does vanish, though it’s replaced by sympathy. The relief a wounded and ugly beast feels when spotting one of its ilk. ‘So even a man like you harbors a side like that,’ Vangeance muses at the back of his mind, and he hates himself (even more, even more) for thinking it. His head hurts, joining all the other pains compounding in his nerves, and he closes his eyes. ]
The matter you’re prying at ... it’s connected to the problem the Administrator addressed in his note to me. It’s something I’ve never discussed with anyone. Abel, I’m sure you wouldn’t wish to treat me the same way he has, regardless of how sympathetic you are towards him.
[ Demanding entry into, or simply invading into deep, dark territory which shouldn’t be touched. ]
Please give me your reasons — your true reasons. I feel it’s the least you can offer me first.
[ 'Demanding the trust of others without trusting them in return it's cruelty. It's cowardice.'
the words were, admittedly, true. it was cowardly. he wasn't wrong. that Vangeance recognized it in himself as well as Abel solidified his suspicions; 'birds of a feather' after all, it seems. the priest finds his smile a tad rueful, and he nudges at his glasses while he watches him - though the look in his eyes is absent.
'something in the Admin's note he not discussed with anyone.' it made that unpleasant little niggle of irritation flare up from somewhere old and buried; some things were not meant to find the tongues of others unbidden. but Admin knew these things, and he freely dispensed disquiet while he spoke so flippantly of them. waved them in front of the eyes of his captives. Vangeance hadn't been spared that displeasure.
but the confidence they discussed between them were different. ones freely offered were different than ones taken. the Magic Knight is right; he is asking for trust with nothing given in reciprocation. 'cruel,' Abel'd claimed, 'cruel for a good cause.' is it still for the cause's sake, or the same sort of cowardly self-preservation he was trying to erode in his new friend? the thought has an uncomfortable flip-flop settling in his stomach.
...he wavers. it's not something he bothers to hide, either - reluctance, and that cowardice they share. no matter how justified he feels his reasons for keeping secrets (--people don't trust monsters, don't reach their hands out them in their time of need; he deserves none of the mercy of a gentle hand returned in kind--), he knows Vangeance won't accept they're there without explanation. all he'll see is a foolish hypocrite asking for everything, greedily, and giving nothing back. even so, even acknowledging that fact, it is... so... impossibly hard to let go.
after the silence had stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time... a grim, muted resignation settles over his face.
Abel lifts the rosary, a heavy and time-worn thing almost too large to fit in the palm of his hand. he settles its weight on the table in front of him and the long, elaborate chain pools beside it. ]
You asked me if I had interrogated anyone else, this way.
[ his hand atop the trinket lets it rest, somewhere in the middle of the table between them. then he draws his hand away and sits back, leaving it where it is. ]
I haven't. But... someone else interrogated me. [ his eyes, fixed on the rosary, are somewhere else - with the woman who wore this with much more grace than Abel does. ] And she taught me how important it is to have someone on your side, even... ...no.
[ He assumes they’ve reached an impasse at first. The silence that lingers between them is like a dense curtain, stifling to breathe through, and Vangeance exhales slowly. Of course this is the conclusion they would reach. Two wounded beasts warily circling each other, alert to the smell of blood, but unwilling to draw any closer. And that’s acceptable, he supposes. Abel has time, and loved ones waiting for him back home; someone more suitable will be there to care for his injuries someday. This may be how things were meant to conclude.
There’s the clatter of the rosary chain on the table just as he’s about to take his leave.
The sound cuts through the silence like a blade, instantly commanding all of his attention; the heavy thump of that cross further nails him into place. The weight of it must be tremendous, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. There’s a palpable gravity to the way Abel sets it down, his hand lingering for a moment too long before pulling away, and when he sees that faraway look in Abel’s eyes, Vangeance immediately knows —
it’s a memento.
Everything else falls into place afterwards as he listens to Abel’s words. Connects them to everything Abel has said so far. Thinks back to that brief glimmer of surprise he’d spotted earlier, and the traces of something more somber he’d caught lurking in the depth of those clear, blue eyes. Vangeance regards Abel quietly afterward; that smile of his has faded, replaced by a look of quiet contemplation, and after a long moment of silence, he speaks plainly. ]
Your strength is admirable.
[ Because Abel ... has also done something heinous, hasn’t he? That’s why he was interrogated. That’s why he’s so adamant that there is no ‘point of no return.’ That’s why he so powerfully believes in extending a merciful hand even to those who’ve done wrong.
It’s the sort of attitude that could be seen as despicable coming from another man. The flailings of a person desperate to save themselves, trying to persuade themselves that their own sins could be absolved. But Vangeance can recognize the pain and reluctance in Abel’s confession, a genuine fear of addressing his own past. Abel believes in mercy, but not for his own sake. The sincerity in his voice hadn’t been anything that could be easily faked. Vangeance believes Abel’s convictions are true, and not just because he wants to believe in them. ]
A lesson like that ... must have been difficult to learn. To truly accept. But having the willingness and ability to deliver it to others afterward ...
[ It would be impossible for him, he’s sure.
Vangeance drops his gaze to that rosary, imagining what kind of person taught Abel that lesson. What kind of person could have imparted such warmth, and given him such endless resilience. What kind of person Abel was so influenced by, then lost. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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. ]
no subject
...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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... it isn’t lonely. [ He answers first, softly, then pauses. Amends. ] Though I suppose it might seem that way.
[ In truth, he’s not sure. Is he lonely? His problem doesn’t feel like one of solitude, not since he was much younger. If anything, he has too much — two people to love and cherish, two causes to believe in, two lights to his life that he wouldn’t mind dying for. And while it’s true that his circumstances are unique, that there isn’t anyone he can consult ... any loneliness he feels is nothing compared to the hurt he’ll be leaving behind.
Vangeance gazes out the window as he mulls over his words. ]
But there are far greater pains than solitude, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure you know of far worse. On a personal level.
[ After all, the somber shadow he’s seen in Abel’s eyes isn’t one that could be born of a pampered, peaceful, happy life. ]
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[ loneliness - and solitude - was a terrible sort of pain. it came in many different forms. it wasn't only the kind associated with pining after company; one could be surrounded by others, be beloved by many, and be incredibly alone. he feels Vangeance is acquainted with that feeling, well.
but it could also the crushing loneliness of being ostracized; the solitude of watching others obtain a happiness you will never know yourself. it's loving someone, and then having to live without them. sometimes, it's standing by their side and knowing there's nothing you can do for them. maybe Vangeance knew one or many of these; it didn't matter which.
they were all terrible and perfectly capable of destroying a man. ]
It was in your eyes. When speaking about the Admin. It was personal, for you.
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In a fashion, yes.
[ He relents easily on this matter. Because he isn’t confident in his ability to hide it — the deep connection he feels to the Administrator’s plight. It carries the same desperate stench as Patry’s pain and rage and grief, which he’s harbored and justified and viscerally lived through for most of his life. Vangeance swallows thickly, then meets Abel’s gaze with a sidelong glance. ]
But I’m capable of separating my feelings from my work. If you’re afraid I’ll kill him for personal reasons ... I wouldn’t blame you for being worried, but I promise you that won’t happen. I simply want to ensure the safety of everyone here.
[ That isn’t the point, is it? Abel isn’t so simple a man that he’d prolong this tortuous conversation just for the Administrator’s physical safety. Vangeance knows that Abel is aiming for something else entirely, but this placid attempt to divert and conclude is his unspoken plea for Abel not to dig any further. ]
Please rest assured.
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[ 'cruel,' he'd warned him. he refuses to give an out. for someone who had been hiding behind masks - figuratively and literally, perhaps - for most of his life, maybe he hadn't come across this before. it was... sad, if true. was there no one who had tried to pull out the man beneath them...?
he leans back in his chair, heaving a quiet sigh. ]
How do you relate?
[ Vangeance had denied the similarity to himself in Admin's plight. had he been deflecting...? no, the guilt had been so real in his eyes when he'd spoken those words. it meant something. then, someone else? a loved one, who held the same grim conviction? maybe...
...he forces the thoughts aside, focusing wholly on the knight with an expectant, but patient, silence. ]
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Why do you ask, Abel?
[ He knows the answer to that. It’s because Abel is a fundamentally good person, sincerely worried for someone who appears to be suffering alone. So as much as it pains him, he can’t leave it at that question alone. Vangeance continues quietly. ]
You’ve said you’re speaking not as a priest, but as an individual. I’ve told you my feelings won’t affect my actions, and I’ve asked you to drop the matter. You’re willing to be ‘cruel.’ So you can’t driven by sympathy alone. Then — are you acting on your past experiences? [ ’Underhanded,’ his conscience hisses in his ear. ’Cowardly.’ And it truly is a cheap move, attempting to turn the matter back on Abel. ] Was there someone else in your past you interrogated in this fashion? I’d be curious to know if it worked.
[ ‘Despicable.’ ]
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there's no outward sign to give the other man inclination as to whether or not his words hit their mark. instead, Abel simply waits in silence, finding his hands loosely clasped around the rosary where its settled in his lap, draped from its long chain. the quiet patience and concern in blue eyes says everything for him.
he can wait. will wait. misdirect all he likes; they both know what it means. ]
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... demanding the trust of others without trusting them in return isn’t cruelty. It’s cowardice. [ He smiles bitterly to himself. For real, this time, not that manufactured look he’s perfected since childhood. Hurt and weary and pathetic. ] I would know it very well.
[ Some respect does vanish, though it’s replaced by sympathy. The relief a wounded and ugly beast feels when spotting one of its ilk. ‘So even a man like you harbors a side like that,’ Vangeance muses at the back of his mind, and he hates himself (even more, even more) for thinking it. His head hurts, joining all the other pains compounding in his nerves, and he closes his eyes. ]
The matter you’re prying at ... it’s connected to the problem the Administrator addressed in his note to me. It’s something I’ve never discussed with anyone. Abel, I’m sure you wouldn’t wish to treat me the same way he has, regardless of how sympathetic you are towards him.
[ Demanding entry into, or simply invading into deep, dark territory which shouldn’t be touched. ]
Please give me your reasons — your true reasons. I feel it’s the least you can offer me first.
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the words were, admittedly, true. it was cowardly. he wasn't wrong. that Vangeance recognized it in himself as well as Abel solidified his suspicions; 'birds of a feather' after all, it seems. the priest finds his smile a tad rueful, and he nudges at his glasses while he watches him - though the look in his eyes is absent.
'something in the Admin's note he not discussed with anyone.' it made that unpleasant little niggle of irritation flare up from somewhere old and buried; some things were not meant to find the tongues of others unbidden. but Admin knew these things, and he freely dispensed disquiet while he spoke so flippantly of them. waved them in front of the eyes of his captives. Vangeance hadn't been spared that displeasure.
but the confidence they discussed between them were different. ones freely offered were different than ones taken. the Magic Knight is right; he is asking for trust with nothing given in reciprocation. 'cruel,' Abel'd claimed, 'cruel for a good cause.' is it still for the cause's sake, or the same sort of cowardly self-preservation he was trying to erode in his new friend? the thought has an uncomfortable flip-flop settling in his stomach.
...he wavers. it's not something he bothers to hide, either - reluctance, and that cowardice they share. no matter how justified he feels his reasons for keeping secrets (--people don't trust monsters, don't reach their hands out them in their time of need; he deserves none of the mercy of a gentle hand returned in kind--), he knows Vangeance won't accept they're there without explanation. all he'll see is a foolish hypocrite asking for everything, greedily, and giving nothing back. even so, even acknowledging that fact, it is... so... impossibly hard to let go.
after the silence had stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time... a grim, muted resignation settles over his face.
Abel lifts the rosary, a heavy and time-worn thing almost too large to fit in the palm of his hand. he settles its weight on the table in front of him and the long, elaborate chain pools beside it. ]
You asked me if I had interrogated anyone else, this way.
[ his hand atop the trinket lets it rest, somewhere in the middle of the table between them. then he draws his hand away and sits back, leaving it where it is. ]
I haven't. But... someone else interrogated me. [ his eyes, fixed on the rosary, are somewhere else - with the woman who wore this with much more grace than Abel does. ] And she taught me how important it is to have someone on your side, even... ...no.
Especially, when you make an enemy of yourself.
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There’s the clatter of the rosary chain on the table just as he’s about to take his leave.
The sound cuts through the silence like a blade, instantly commanding all of his attention; the heavy thump of that cross further nails him into place. The weight of it must be tremendous, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. There’s a palpable gravity to the way Abel sets it down, his hand lingering for a moment too long before pulling away, and when he sees that faraway look in Abel’s eyes, Vangeance immediately knows —
it’s a memento.
Everything else falls into place afterwards as he listens to Abel’s words. Connects them to everything Abel has said so far. Thinks back to that brief glimmer of surprise he’d spotted earlier, and the traces of something more somber he’d caught lurking in the depth of those clear, blue eyes. Vangeance regards Abel quietly afterward; that smile of his has faded, replaced by a look of quiet contemplation, and after a long moment of silence, he speaks plainly. ]
Your strength is admirable.
[ Because Abel ... has also done something heinous, hasn’t he? That’s why he was interrogated. That’s why he’s so adamant that there is no ‘point of no return.’ That’s why he so powerfully believes in extending a merciful hand even to those who’ve done wrong.
It’s the sort of attitude that could be seen as despicable coming from another man. The flailings of a person desperate to save themselves, trying to persuade themselves that their own sins could be absolved. But Vangeance can recognize the pain and reluctance in Abel’s confession, a genuine fear of addressing his own past. Abel believes in mercy, but not for his own sake. The sincerity in his voice hadn’t been anything that could be easily faked. Vangeance believes Abel’s convictions are true, and not just because he wants to believe in them. ]
A lesson like that ... must have been difficult to learn. To truly accept. But having the willingness and ability to deliver it to others afterward ...
[ It would be impossible for him, he’s sure.
Vangeance drops his gaze to that rosary, imagining what kind of person taught Abel that lesson. What kind of person could have imparted such warmth, and given him such endless resilience. What kind of person Abel was so influenced by, then lost. ]
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