[He expected Dantes to be more resistant - a fiercer struggle, perhaps, not this wounded animal slinking back to its lair. Andersen follows him back inside, at last letting the drenched cape drape over his shoulders.
It's only when they're inside that Andersen moves close to him again, so he may take off the cloak and set it on Dantes's back.]
I can't have you catching a cold. I don't know the first thing about animal care.
[it's a nice thought, Andersen, but he shrugs it off his shoulders before he finishes crossing the room. it's a pointed sulk of an action, as he drags himself all the way back to the living quarters to where the fire is, where he sits down on the floor and looks into the flames. it's warmer here, but his mood is no brighter.
[Seriously? Seriously, Dantes? Andersen makes an irritated noise. Picks up the cape, struts over to where he is. But instead of throwing it at him, he does the considerate thing and drapes it on the nearest chair. Spreads it out, so it may dry quicker.]
... there are things even Heroic Spirits can't defeat, you understand. You are someone who'd curse yourself for not turning back a storm.
[there's a thump, thump sound in response - Dantes's tail, flicking on the ground in annoyance. this should be within his control - this should be something he can handle. he handles worse forces on a regular basis, but none of them overtook his body so. even the Mage King's machinations did not force him into a more monstrous form than the one he held.
but, perhaps it is fitting, to finally make a beast of him. the truth, not that suit and mask, but the reality of his life.
he exhales hard, knowing he looks as much of a mess as he feels.]
[Andersen should have been the Monster. This body wasn't his to begin with - not with the curses marking him as his readers' property. What did it matter if he was twisted into something more feral? He could bear it, because he was someone who was willing to gouge out everything - heart, soul, body - for his readers.
But Dantes?
Dantes is a man who, even after death, struggles to hold close what's left of himself.
Andersen lifts his head to look at him.]
You're still sane. That's a good sign. If you started licking your ass like a real cat, I'd have to sever our Bond.
[he turns his head, and scowls - he's still Dantes, under all these changes. there's still a man's intelligence in his head, even if that hold on his words hasn't let go yet -
he can't let go entirely. he can't rest, it's beyond him. there's too much in his mind to submit to this.]
I thought your first transformation would be worse--
[--he says, sitting right next to Dantes without invitation--]
--but you are handling this with your usual grace. Needless to say, I won't let you treat yourself as a wild beast. You're my partner. It'd reflect poorly on me if I left you out in the rain.
[...]
In any case, I understand to some degree what it's like to live with a curse. You saw my scales.
[looking him over, Dantes studies his legs - a silent confirmation of the fact that he remembers. he also remembers what happened when they first Bonded, that overload of feeling that burned through - it runs deeper than Andersen ever admits.
he knows, but it's not the same kind of curse, Dantes wants to say. there's no grace in losing one's grip and fleeing outside through a locked door, leaving clothes and reason at the door.]
Your life was taken from you when you were still alive, fed to the readers to sate their hunger for a rousing tale. Your first summoning was intended to make you a slave to a curse. And now here - there will be an animal hungering after your mind.
[A significant pause.]
I've heard rumors, you know. About a certain potion.
[his head turns, his eyes lifting to stare Andersen directly down. my life is my life, he thinks, and I don't need you recounting it as though I am not already cursed.
he was laden with different chains. all chafing at his limbs like manacles, trying to drag him deeper into the abyss. he could only keep struggling.]
[the reaction from Dantes hits like lightning, the surge of anger over their Bond and the way he starts, growling at Andersen like he just threatened him with those words. it's immediate, it isn't dying down, and the look in his eyes burns - no. with every part of him, he rejects that possibility for them, would never consent to the act.
[Such a strong reaction for what should be a reasonable offer. It takes Andersen by surprise, visible by how he starts. The anger burns, and he can't fathom that it's out of concern for him. It can't possibly be that. But he can't understand just why Dantes would be so adamant against it.]
You're happy with how you're turning out, then? As I told you, curses mean nothing to me! And your own plans would be smoother if you retained a human form--
-it doesn't mean I'd be content to let you bear this! Whatever trials of hell come forth, I shall endure it without needlessly making you suffer alongside me!
[his fury is building, growing, the monstrous sound yielding to his voice as he loses the battle on what he will be at the moment but regains his reason.]
We swore a partnership, is that not enough proof of my commitment as what I am now to what you have become?! My soul has faced harsher trials than this!
[Words. Not growls, not a roar. Andersen stares for a second but quickly snaps back.]
You Avengers are concerned with nothing but crowing on and on about how your soul's suffered and burnt. A trial - what does this trial prove! For what purpose would you want to remain a Monster? Is it worth it to honor an author who doesn't even deign to treat you as a full man? You didn't choose your role, Dantes. But the choice is now before you.
[his voice is a shout, mirroring the power of the beast which had sunk its claws into his form, and even soaked to the skin he seems prepared to leap at any given opportunity.]
He is not here, and has no weight upon me! For an Avenger, to suffer is our strength! Our anguish fuels us, the hatred of the world what strengthens our limbs. This trial is only what exists here until we can find our way back to that miserable smoldering heap of a world we were parted from - oh, we dragged it from the clutches of annihilation once, and I'll help do it again and again, no matter what detours must be taken. If this was enough to break me, I would not be the Count of Monte Cristo!
[it isn't an answer, not entirely, but it's what he's felt since that stirring unease under his skin, since he'd been questioned about his misery.]
So I am a Monster - so my body reflects the wicked condition of my soul! Could it not be more poetic? I have no more right to foist this onto another as I would have to throw an innocent man into the jaws of hell. There is no choice, because I am not someone who is given choices. I adapt, I overcome, and I destroy what I must - it is literally written into my being. Tell me why, to one I swore to stand beside, you would have this!
[chest heaving, his voice drops, but is no less fierce.]
I may be a tool of vengeance, but I was not sent to judge your sins.
[In the light of the fire, Dantes looks - miserable. Even as he bares his fangs, he is still drenched by the rain, looks smaller somehow, because of it. One day, Andersen's kindness will kill him again. It killed him in his lifetime like a poison; it killed him in London in a brilliant flash. But he knows Dantes won't be the cause of his death.
The count's conscience won't permit it.]
What you can achieve in this world is more than I could ever dream of.
[As a human being, as a Heroic Spirit, as a fellow user of magic. No matter how you looked at it, Edmond Dantes was best suited to remain a man.]
It is a pragmatic choice. And we must be pragmatic if we're to make it back to our Master.
My answer is no, Andersen. Do not make me repeat myself.
[there's more on his mind, in his voice, but he's realizing he's trembling - from cold, not from rage, and he moves away to grab the cloak that he'd been wearing earlier before this mess. it is a poor substitute to try and dry himself with, but it's something.]
Since when did you find that you could order me around?
[he shoots it back like an insult, but trudges his sodden self back. that towel might only dry part of him off, but he drags the cloak back too. they'll get....something done.]
[it's enough for him to dry the fur on his head, and to work on his torso. the legs he tries for with his cloak, and though he's still damp, it might be something if he lays down to soak up the heat from the fire. which he does, with a huff.]
Do you think that's the worst I've been put through? I once served a Master who had me transform her into the Devil himself. She locked me away in a box to slave away under an unreasonable deadline! Running into the rain is closer to a saccharine and overdone romantic trope neither of us fit into.
[he can't comment on the Master - no, he does not wish to, when he thinks that anyone who wishes to be the Devil has no idea what it costs. himself included. he breathes a deep sigh, and curls so his front will be warmed.]
What, would you have rather I let you waste away out there? I'm your Witch. Your well-being is my responsibility, even if it piles extra work upon me.
[There's no hesitation with the declaration, only a matter-of-factly tone. To be a Witch to a Monster is like serving a Master in his eyes. Though the status isn't one he asked for, Andersen understands the responsibilities that come with the role.]
Even if you were to fall into the pits of Hell, I would be obligated to bring you back.
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It's only when they're inside that Andersen moves close to him again, so he may take off the cloak and set it on Dantes's back.]
I can't have you catching a cold. I don't know the first thing about animal care.
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and yeah, he did track water in.]
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... there are things even Heroic Spirits can't defeat, you understand. You are someone who'd curse yourself for not turning back a storm.
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but, perhaps it is fitting, to finally make a beast of him. the truth, not that suit and mask, but the reality of his life.
he exhales hard, knowing he looks as much of a mess as he feels.]
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But Dantes?
Dantes is a man who, even after death, struggles to hold close what's left of himself.
Andersen lifts his head to look at him.]
You're still sane. That's a good sign. If you started licking your ass like a real cat, I'd have to sever our Bond.
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he can't let go entirely. he can't rest, it's beyond him. there's too much in his mind to submit to this.]
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[--he says, sitting right next to Dantes without invitation--]
--but you are handling this with your usual grace. Needless to say, I won't let you treat yourself as a wild beast. You're my partner. It'd reflect poorly on me if I left you out in the rain.
[...]
In any case, I understand to some degree what it's like to live with a curse. You saw my scales.
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he knows, but it's not the same kind of curse, Dantes wants to say. there's no grace in losing one's grip and fleeing outside through a locked door, leaving clothes and reason at the door.]
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[A significant pause.]
I've heard rumors, you know. About a certain potion.
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he was laden with different chains. all chafing at his limbs like manacles, trying to drag him deeper into the abyss. he could only keep struggling.]
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he'd rather never speak again.]
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You're happy with how you're turning out, then? As I told you, curses mean nothing to me! And your own plans would be smoother if you retained a human form--
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[his fury is building, growing, the monstrous sound yielding to his voice as he loses the battle on what he will be at the moment but regains his reason.]
We swore a partnership, is that not enough proof of my commitment as what I am now to what you have become?! My soul has faced harsher trials than this!
[-oh. he can speak again....that's a surprise.]
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You Avengers are concerned with nothing but crowing on and on about how your soul's suffered and burnt. A trial - what does this trial prove! For what purpose would you want to remain a Monster? Is it worth it to honor an author who doesn't even deign to treat you as a full man? You didn't choose your role, Dantes. But the choice is now before you.
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[his voice is a shout, mirroring the power of the beast which had sunk its claws into his form, and even soaked to the skin he seems prepared to leap at any given opportunity.]
He is not here, and has no weight upon me! For an Avenger, to suffer is our strength! Our anguish fuels us, the hatred of the world what strengthens our limbs. This trial is only what exists here until we can find our way back to that miserable smoldering heap of a world we were parted from - oh, we dragged it from the clutches of annihilation once, and I'll help do it again and again, no matter what detours must be taken. If this was enough to break me, I would not be the Count of Monte Cristo!
[it isn't an answer, not entirely, but it's what he's felt since that stirring unease under his skin, since he'd been questioned about his misery.]
So I am a Monster - so my body reflects the wicked condition of my soul! Could it not be more poetic? I have no more right to foist this onto another as I would have to throw an innocent man into the jaws of hell. There is no choice, because I am not someone who is given choices. I adapt, I overcome, and I destroy what I must - it is literally written into my being. Tell me why, to one I swore to stand beside, you would have this!
[chest heaving, his voice drops, but is no less fierce.]
I may be a tool of vengeance, but I was not sent to judge your sins.
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The count's conscience won't permit it.]
What you can achieve in this world is more than I could ever dream of.
[As a human being, as a Heroic Spirit, as a fellow user of magic. No matter how you looked at it, Edmond Dantes was best suited to remain a man.]
It is a pragmatic choice. And we must be pragmatic if we're to make it back to our Master.
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[there's more on his mind, in his voice, but he's realizing he's trembling - from cold, not from rage, and he moves away to grab the cloak that he'd been wearing earlier before this mess. it is a poor substitute to try and dry himself with, but it's something.]
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Hmph. I should've known a Bond between two gluttons for punishment would wind up this way. You're better off with a proper towel. Get back here.
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[he shoots it back like an insult, but trudges his sodden self back. that towel might only dry part of him off, but he drags the cloak back too. they'll get....something done.]
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[His personality is simply unpleasant like that. Andersen hands the towel to Dantes.]
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No one made you go out in the rain like me.
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Do you think that's the worst I've been put through? I once served a Master who had me transform her into the Devil himself. She locked me away in a box to slave away under an unreasonable deadline! Running into the rain is closer to a saccharine and overdone romantic trope neither of us fit into.
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[he can't comment on the Master - no, he does not wish to, when he thinks that anyone who wishes to be the Devil has no idea what it costs. himself included. he breathes a deep sigh, and curls so his front will be warmed.]
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[There's no hesitation with the declaration, only a matter-of-factly tone. To be a Witch to a Monster is like serving a Master in his eyes. Though the status isn't one he asked for, Andersen understands the responsibilities that come with the role.]
Even if you were to fall into the pits of Hell, I would be obligated to bring you back.
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