...I'm sorry. Those were the first two times I used it, and I felt that-- I wanted you to have more realistic expectations of me, as well as see what it looks like. But they were perhaps more intense than I remembered.
Whitesnake was born from my need to preserve Perla's memory, though. I have her life's memory on DISC, at home. I also have my brother's memories, though for my safety over any sentimentality. [There's some cold detachment in his voice now, even though Pucci's burying his face in his hands. Not that it was part of the memory, the whole sordid affair of baby switching and racism, but--
it's clear that he has no affection for the catalyst of all of this. Fuck that guy.
One, two, three deep and controlled breaths, before he manages a faint smile and some eye contact again.] Anyway! There it is. Now you know what to imagine when you hear Whitesnake talking. I have some theories on why it is the way it is, personality-wise, but I can't ever really prove them. And I never got the chance to ask the one man who might've known.
...How are you feeling? I'm sorry for giving you something so grotesque. [It's a little hesitant, but Pucci's still going to attempt to place a hand on Avicebron's knee. Both as comfort, and to test the waters. No, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault apart from those fucking KKK pigs, and the one thing that Wes did right was murdering them. But if Avicebron rejects him for this, for the least controversial part of himself, then Pucci's going to be lost.]
[ Avicebron listens quietly to Pucci's explanation, breaths still forced deep and slow for few moments before they start to even out. And though the hand to at his knee earns a slight shift, it's startled rather than discomforted. He makes no move to shake it off. ]
I'm fine. [ Said calmly with a small nod. ] Despite existing mainly for combat, I've never grown fully accustomed to bloodshed. But I'm fine now.
[ But that's not the main issue here, is it. He closes his eyes and takes one last deep breath before scanning the room. No sign of Whitesnake, of course, but at least now he can picture what might be lurking somewhere in the room, unseen. ]
I don't believe you did anything wrong. [ Ultimately, his gaze slides back to Pucci, and he manages a moment of eye contact before looking away as he always does, face shadowed by the messy tangles of his hair without the mask. ] Not that I'm in any position to judge another person. But I can see how some might condemn your actions. You were in a difficult situation, and perhaps there were other actions you could have taken but ... I've no intention of judging you.
[ And with that out of the way, he furrows his brow in thought, still looking off to the side. There's a pause before he changes the subject. ]
In your memories, it felt as if your ability was given to you by another person. I'd like to ask what those circumstances were.
[He's quiet for a good minute, eyes averted just so that Avicebron can't see how wet they've grown with his acceptance. It's fine. Swallow it back, of course it would be acceptance. Pucci's a good person. A great person. This was unavoidable, but it's still overwhelming, the relief he's feeling.
A soft little sigh, and he's talking again.] ...Thank you. It means a lot to me. I did what I thought was best, even if that paved the road to Hell as the saying goes. As for my ability...
You're not wrong, no. You saw the arrow, didn't you? It was-- a funny story, really. I was tidying the church at night, keeping the candles lit, that sort of thing, and I literally fell over the man who gave me that arrowhead. [That detachment's gone now, replaced wholly by nostalgia and affection. It feels...inappropriate to be touching someone else while talking about DIO, so he straightens up and neatly laces his hands in his lap, smiling absently as he withdraws into that particularly pleasant memory.] He merely wanted sanctuary, said he was allergic to the sun. So I told him that he could stay as long as he left at sunrise, and he...Thought that was amusing. Thought it hilarious that I didn't press further, even if it would be a ridiculous lie to tell in the first place. Clearly it was fate that we met, he said, and maybe we could meet again; so I was given the arrow, in case I ever wanted to see him again.
The story goes about as well as you'd expect it to, I suppose. I'll spare you the details for tonight, at any rate. But you remind me of him in his finest moments. Understanding, dry, more than mortal, and exceedingly brilliant; like a flame when I'm a pathetic moth.
[ The encounter sounds benign enough by Pucci's description. But at the back of his mind, Avicebron can't help finding it ... strange.
Pucci's power is formidable -- the ability to cast illusions would be dangerous in the wrong hands, the ability to manipulate memories doubly so. Not to mention the gruesome manner in which his power had manifested. And it was all caused by that strange arrowhead? What kind of man would hand over such a powerful artifact seemingly on a whim, to someone he'd just met?
Not that it sounds particularly suspect. Just strange. Avicebron dwells on it briefly, but Pucci's glowing praise is more than enough to snap him out of his thoughts. ]
You vastly overrate me. [ There's traces of a tired, sardonic smile on his features. But only for a moment before he touches his face, bringing back his mask. He fidgets with his hair as he continues, gathering up stray locks and tucking them back. ] I'm something inhuman, but my existence is based on a human. I'm terribly flawed, and I've made grave mistakes. You've no need to think of yourself as anything lesser than me.
[ His hat shimmers back into existence as well, and he's his usual self once more, perfectly composed and distant. ]
It seems your life was a tumultuous one, and was heavily affected by the emergence of your ability. But more than your ability, I find your composure impressive -- your current grace and dignity despite having suffered through such events. That much has little to do with whether either of us is human or not.
[Honestly, Pucci's about to protest, but-- well, he catches the tiredness in that little smile and decides better of it. No point in arguing a point he'll never win at personal detriment, right? And they're both clearly tired anyway.
He waves one hand, signalling that particular tangent dealt with, and returns to the cheese platter to occupy himself instead. Just give him a minute, okay.]
Everyone has their troubles, don't they? I don't see myself as special for managing to blunder my way into surviving; that's just how it was meant to be. Nor can I say that I feel I have any grace and composure; it's a coping mechanism and nothing more. ...But that's neither here nor there, I suppose.
...I'm sorry. Those memories affect me about as much as you'd expect, so I fear I'm growing tired and bitter. Even now, I'm struggling to not lecture you for never taking my compliments as though you haven't previously asked me to abstain from them. 'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.' [Time to take his frustration out on the cheese! Brie's not satisfying enough to hack, so one of the harder cheeses will have to do.] ...Avicebron.
If you could change the workings of reality so that you would be able to come to terms with those grave mistakes far easier, to not regret your decisions...Would you do that? Would you avoid anyone suffering as you have?
[ Aah, perhaps he'd pushed things a bit too far? Avicebron ponders it as he watches Pucci attack the innocent chunk of cheese -- but no, he's sure he didn't say anything incorrect. It's an ironclad fact that he's long since lost any respectability, and even if Pucci quotes the Bible at him, that won't lessen the magnitude of his crimes.
And given what Pucci asks next, he almost feels like he's being reminded of it. Even knowing that Pucci isn't aware of what he's done, that question still earns a small flinch, and Avicebron stiffly laces his hands as he looks away. ]
'Change the workings of reality.' [ He echoes those words quietly, ducking his head. There's a pause before he clears his throat, continuing quietly. ] Of course, I dearly wish for the salvation of humanity. More than anything. But ...
[ There's the click of metal parts as he unlaces, then relaces his fingers. Tense. ]
... the greatest sin I committed was in blind pursuit of a similar goal, and it was something that must not be forgiven. Must be regretted. It was my fault for thinking, even for a moment, that good intentions would justify all means. [ He swallows thickly before looking back to Pucci, and there's a harder edge to his voice. ] I apologize for speaking so much of myself. But I trust you won't be so foolish as to make a similar mistake.
[ After all, Pucci was the one who brought the subject up, and it sends an uneasy feeling crawling down his spine. Surely Pucci isn't following that same dark path. He dearly hopes it's just a misunderstanding. ]
[Pucci instantly withdraws, expression vague and evasive, but before he can reply with some glib reassurance--
'He's calling you stupid, Enrico. Calling your life's work foolish. Calling DIO's Heaven of equality a mistake. Twenty-two years. You're not going to give up because your new infatuation thinks it's stupid, are you?'
Pucci doesn't move. Just stares at his feet as Whitesnake idly picks up one of the harder cheeses and starts crushing it. 'And now you can't lie your way out, either. Now he knows you're ugly, full of sin and wrath. Why change course when he'll leave you?']
...I do this for humanity. So they can know true heaven on earth, or here. I can't change my past, but I can help others if I just--
['Tell him what you're really thinking, Enriiiico. The dying defence of a panicking child.'
It starts playing with Avicebron's hair, every inch the poltergeist, and Pucci finally looks up.] It's not foolish. I do this for love, and I won't start regretting my actions now. What will you do, knowing this?
[ He can tell he's struck a nerve. The signs are too obvious to ignore -- the way Pucci recoils, the piece of cheese that crumbles in on itself, the slight tug at his hair. Avicebron briefly glances over at where Whitesnake must be, but ultimately ignores it and looks back to Pucci. ]
I won't condemn you, Enrico.
[ Said quietly, but firmly, after a long moment's consideration. Avicebron forces himself to maintain eye contact past the mask. ]
I don't know the details of your circumstances. Nor am I in the position to judge anyone else's actions. It's not my place to deem your actions wrong.
[ He exhales slowly, trying to push back the discomfort weighing in his chest as he goes on, voice perfectly level and nonjudgmental. ]
Humanity has persevered despite its suffering. And for one human to deem certain sacrifices worthy just to end that tolerable suffering is ... arrogant. That was the mistake I made. Ambition and goodwill are admirable. But I hope you've considered your path carefully -- I don't wish for you to make the same mistake.
...I wish I could reassure you. I know you're not saying any of this lightly, and I don't want you to think that I make light of your experience in turn. ['But he doesn't know, does he?'] --Whitesnake, go. I'm not in the mood.
[So it slips away, oil haze in its wake, and Pucci runs both hands over his feathers with a loud, pained sigh. For once, he's the one not making eye contact; it feels like he's disappointed a favourite teacher, rather than confessed to at least part of his grand plan. There's guilt, sure, but not for the sacrifices he's already made. Not for shooting his long-term bodyguard point blank in the head, not for leaving his twin for dead, not for anything bar having Avicebron know.
But it's also a relief, somehow.] Perhaps it's arrogant. Perhaps I really am foolish. But I will see it happen. And if I don't, then at least I can die knowing that I did what I could for the one person who loved me even when I was broken. People will be equal, and they'll be able to come to terms with their suffering instead of shattering as I did, and as DIO did.
I want you to see it. I want you there, Avicebron. Seeing this transformed world in its beauty, whether I'm in it or not...That would be almost as good as having my King of Kings witness his dream come to fruition.
[ He watches that reaction carefully, wondering what to say. In truth, part of him thinks this is none of his business -- he has no allegiances to this or Pucci's world, and he has no obligations to protect either. And, if Pucci is really capable of creating such a peaceful land, then that would truly be for the best. Who is he to say otherwise?
But deep inside, he knows that humans were never meant to attain such a lofty goal. The world is not something so easily swayed.
His shoulders rise and fall in a small sigh before he reaches out, gently touching at Pucci's forearm. ]
Enrico. I'm irrelevant to this matter. And despite what I said, it's not my place to lecture or criticize you. I only spoke as a ... friend.
[ It's so rare for him to use that word, and it comes out stiffly. But it's not said lightly. He grips gingerly at Pucci's sleeve for a moment before letting go. ]
I feel you're a good person. And I don't wish you to stray from that path. I don't want you to die, and I don't wish for you to define yourself by your singular goal. That is all. [ Especially if it's dangerous, to himself or to others. But he refrains from saying that out loud. Avicebron pulls his hand away, ducking his gaze away. ] ... I apologize. You were honest with me, but I repaid you poorly. It still means a great deal to me. I promise.
It's alright. It's...A lot. Isn't it? Twenty-two years of my life, poured into bettering everyone else's...Since I lost him, I've been defined by his dream, and the fact that only I can do what he needed me to.
[Thankfully, he doesn't sigh again. Though the soft chuckle he lets out is almost one, with the strange sad angle it's got, but-- not quite. It takes another second of effort for Pucci to resume eye contact (and the touch helps as far as motivation goes, as does Avicebron's clear effort to bridge this peculiar gap), and by that time, it's too late. Ah well! Shit happens.]
Please, don't take my refusal to let go as not accepting your counsel. I cherish it greatly, and...This is a relief. I know that I'm forcing you to be party to this, and that's unfair. But I adore you, obviously, so...Even just knowing that you're not rejecting me for what I have to do is beyond the boundary of my vocabulary, really.
And a little part of me wishes that we could've met then, instead. Maybe I could have made you proud and become a real person. I think I would've enjoyed that.
[ There's a lot he could say -- that Pucci has nothing to apologize for, that his past incarnation was hardly someone worth meeting, that he's nothing worth adoring. That, if Pucci's plans would ultimately endanger too many people, he would probably try to interfere. That he's ultimately not a kind enough person to value Pucci's ambitions above his own obligations as a Heroic Spirit.
But none of those things seem right for the moment. So Avicebron is silent for a moment before leaning in a little closer. ]
Nothing would bring me greater peace of mind than to be understood despite my ambitions and my sins. I can only attempt to show you that same kindness to the best of my abilities.
[ 'For now.'
It's gentle when he cants his head up to touch foreheads with Pucci, the cold metal of his mask making contact for a brief moment before he sits back. With a gentle clear of the throat he's back to being distant and calm and deadpan like his usual self. Like nothing's wrong. ]
You seem tired. If you need to recuperate alone, or if there is anything you need to recover, you need only say so.
[That's alright. To be honest...He kind of expects to be on a tighter leash now; that, too, is gravity. Obstacles he must overcome, strength to be gained from further loss. Enrico Pucci is a lost cause and on a path straight to hell, but...If he could just show Avicebron that he has the conviction to get this done, to make it worthwhile...To show DIO that his faith and love weren't misplaced...Then it makes his entire wasted life less so.
Maybe he could face Perla, then.
But that's in the future. Right now, things aren't a lost cause and that cold metal against his feathered forehead means more than he'll likely ever say.]
My abilities drained me a little, nothing more. I'm sorry again, for...For things going this way. I didn't want anyone to know so that it could be a pleasant surprise. Wake up one morning, and everyone is intellectually equal and void of complete fear. I won't ask you to moonlace with me when I've already likely made you uncomfortable, hm?
Would you like me to escort you home, since it's dark now? Not that you need it, of course...Or I could make you a coffee for the road, if you'd prefer.
[ This world Pucci wants to create -- it's really not unlike the Eden he dreams of himself. The thought is bittersweet, and Avicebron has to fight back a pained twinge that rises in his chest.
So instead of responding to any of that, he only holds out a hand. ]
I don't mind moonlacing. If this much is enough.
[ There's a pause before he continues a little stiffly, realizing that could be taken the wrong way. ]
-- not out of discomfort. I'm only offering this much not out of any distaste for you, but because I'm not, ah ... in the mood.
[ Not the type of slang he usually uses, but at the moment, it's all he can think of. Saying that out loud was a bit more embarrassing than he thought it would be, and he looks away, other hand touching at his mask. The hand held out for Pucci to take remains steady, though. ]
[It takes a second for the offer to sink in, even with actual words to accompany it; Pucci blinks owlishly at the proffered gauntlet, before slooooowly taking it between both hands and pressing the knuckles to his mouth.
Thankfully, there's nothing seductive or overtly confident in his manner; message received loud and clear on that front. If anything, tonight's worn down his typical front and left the sad, vulnerable teenager in its wake, going by the gratitude he's exuding for even this much contact.] That's alright. Obviously, I'm not exactly in the right mindset either, and I'd prefer if we were both rather keen on the idea of more. This is plenty, thank you. ...And I'll clear up the leftovers to make up for any gap, anyway.
Did you end up making something with the amethyst, yet? I'd like to hear about that, if you have-- and if it's no bother, of course. I know I'm nosy.
[ It's a gesture he's pretty sure Pucci has shown him before but it feels different this time -- much more tender and needy, almost fragile. Avicebron gently grips back at Pucci's hand, letting the familiar, tingly warmth of moonlacing warm through his palm. He's unfortunately poor at comforting people, so this is the best thing he can think to do for Pucci. ]
No, not yet. [ A small shake of the head. ] The more time I spend here, the more I realize quality materials are difficult to procure. The amethyst is a rare, excellent sample, and it was something you gave me. I want to use it meaningfully, using suitably good materials.
[ Not to mention, his golems don't have an immediate, pressing purpose here, since he hasn't been summoned to fight. It's harder to think of a worthy use for such a good gem. Avicebron cants his head, thoughtful, before looking to Pucci. ]
Enrico. Is there anything you would wish to see from a golem?
[He seriously mulls that over, cupid's bow touching at cold metal in thought. What would he like to see in a golem? Is there anything that would actually specifically please him to have created?]
...I just want to see something you made that you feel is brilliant. I want to feel like I helped you make something marvellous, even if it was just by supplying a gemstone. There's no specific function that I want so much as your satisfaction with your creation. ...Which is about as helpful as a steering wheel on a mule, I realise. As a patron of this particular scholastic art, however...That's my dearest desire.
[ He falls silent after that. It's only the absent way he fidgets with Pucci's hand, thumb rubbing against his palm, that suggests he's ruminating and not spaced-out. ]
My golems are generally created for a purpose. [ He speaks up again somewhat abruptly. ] Doing chores or assisting with my work. Often combat. So it's difficult to think in such abstract terms. But ...
[ A small nod. ]
... something that can bring others peace of mind, somehow. [ A much humbler goal than his ultimate dream of Eden. Something much more attainable. Something that might help Pucci, too. ] I feel that may be a worthwhile pursuit. What do you think?
[Thinking pause or no, Pucci's honestly pretty content to just sit there and idly hold hands; the bags under his eyes are almost gone now, and he's absently smiling until Avicebron jolts him back into reality.
It was a nice little break, really. And now he's got the energy to be appropriately enthused about this idea, stars firing in his pitch void eyes as he leans in just a little.] Oh! I know it was a terribly abstract concept that I gave you, but...I like the sound of that. And I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by you wanting to help people in this manner, but that doesn't mean that I'm not further horrendously endeared by the idea all the same.
If anyone can work with a directive like that, it'll be you. [Another double-handed squeeze, face lit up to match, before Pucci lets out a soft chuckle.] An emotional support golem, perhaps. A golem to reassure or...Something. You'll do wonderfully, and I can't wait to see it. I might even commission one from you, so that I'm not such a persistent bother all the time! Ha.
[ It's hardly the sort of thing he normally does, and he's not sure if he can manage it. He can barely comfort anyone in person, so can he really create something that can serve the same purpose? It's terribly tempting to chide Pucci for thinking so highly of him, refusing to acknolwedge the truth, but Avicebron holds his tongue for once and only nods in acquiescence. ]
It would be my first time attempting such a thing. I do enjoy the challenge, of course. But it seems a difficult task. I'll have to try my utmost.
[ At least Pucci seems to be feeling better, judging by that renewed shine in his eyes; Avicebron studies his face carefully for a moment before ducking his gaze once more, lightly squeezing Pucci's hand back with his own. ]
You're no bother to me. But I'd like you to help me test that golem for me, once I begin developing it. I'd like for it to be useful to you.
...I'm sorry, that came out a-- a little harsher than I intended for it to. And it's a silly question, when I think on it, so please don't mind me.
[Pucci relaxes muscles he hadn't even known he'd been tensing and forces the lingering wariness from his face, exhaling slowly to try and resume being Normal. Normal guys doing Normal things like hanging out together over alien cheese and childhood trauma, hell yeah bro.] No matter the reasoning, I'd be glad to help even further. It'd allow me a look at golemancy without imposing on you as a student would his teacher. Just let me know when you want for my assistance, and I'll help however I can.
...Really, though...I don't require a golem to be at my side every waking moment just to reassure me. I'm a grown man, Avicebron; I can self-soothe at my age, I promise. [Another slow breath ending in a quiet chuckle, before he gently pries his hands away to link primly in his lap, as always.] I didn't do this for you to think differently of me, though I know that sort of thing can't very well be controlled consciously.
... of course, I wouldn’t do anything you don’t wish for. And I didn’t meant to imply any weakness or deficiency on your part.
[ His tone of voice is as level and calm as ever, but that sure was a pause before he answered. Avicebron pulls his hands back and looks away across the room. ]
Unlike you, I’m weak. I’m hardly as capable or as wise as you seem to think of me. So your presence has granted me great peace of mind. I’m grateful for it, and wished to repay that favor in some fashion, if only for a moment. It was a selfish desire, so if you’ve no need of it, I won’t impose, of course.
[ His gaze had slowly drifted downwards into his hands as he spoke, metal parts clicking softly as he flexed his fingers, but as he finishes, he looks up, then rises to his feet. Avicebron doesn’t quite meet Pucci’s gaze as he gives a small nod. ]
In any case, you seem to be feeling better, so I’ll be taking my leave. You should still rest after having spent so much energy. Thank you for your hospitality.
[What, Pucci? What the fuck are you going to say? Prime numbers under his breath for at least a few seconds, apparently, and then words.] ...I'm sorry that I've been poor company tonight. That I've treated you with anything less than the composure and dignity I'd like for you to associate with me. And I'm sorry that I've been a worse friend, when you came over at such short notice and wanted nothing more than to help me.
[But the damage is done now, isn't it? So he simply follows suit, dusting off his robes and smiling more out of habit than genuine feeling.] I hope that, at least, this can be my cue to try to get to know you better. And...perhaps prompt you into doing the same for me, if you think that I'm at all strong. But that's enough self-flagellation for the pair of us for the evening, indeed! Here, let me at least walk you to the door.
['Walk him to'? More like 'swan over to the door without waiting and hold it open like there aren't cracks in whatever defence mechanism he's got up right now', but that's just how it is.] And I really can't thank you enough for humouring me tonight. If nothing else, I hope that you'll accept my feelings on that matter.
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no subject
Whitesnake was born from my need to preserve Perla's memory, though. I have her life's memory on DISC, at home. I also have my brother's memories, though for my safety over any sentimentality. [There's some cold detachment in his voice now, even though Pucci's burying his face in his hands. Not that it was part of the memory, the whole sordid affair of baby switching and racism, but--
it's clear that he has no affection for the catalyst of all of this. Fuck that guy.
One, two, three deep and controlled breaths, before he manages a faint smile and some eye contact again.] Anyway! There it is. Now you know what to imagine when you hear Whitesnake talking. I have some theories on why it is the way it is, personality-wise, but I can't ever really prove them. And I never got the chance to ask the one man who might've known.
...How are you feeling? I'm sorry for giving you something so grotesque. [It's a little hesitant, but Pucci's still going to attempt to place a hand on Avicebron's knee. Both as comfort, and to test the waters. No, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault apart from those fucking KKK pigs, and the one thing that Wes did right was murdering them. But if Avicebron rejects him for this, for the least controversial part of himself, then Pucci's going to be lost.]
no subject
I'm fine. [ Said calmly with a small nod. ] Despite existing mainly for combat, I've never grown fully accustomed to bloodshed. But I'm fine now.
[ But that's not the main issue here, is it. He closes his eyes and takes one last deep breath before scanning the room. No sign of Whitesnake, of course, but at least now he can picture what might be lurking somewhere in the room, unseen. ]
I don't believe you did anything wrong. [ Ultimately, his gaze slides back to Pucci, and he manages a moment of eye contact before looking away as he always does, face shadowed by the messy tangles of his hair without the mask. ] Not that I'm in any position to judge another person. But I can see how some might condemn your actions. You were in a difficult situation, and perhaps there were other actions you could have taken but ... I've no intention of judging you.
[ And with that out of the way, he furrows his brow in thought, still looking off to the side. There's a pause before he changes the subject. ]
In your memories, it felt as if your ability was given to you by another person. I'd like to ask what those circumstances were.
no subject
A soft little sigh, and he's talking again.] ...Thank you. It means a lot to me. I did what I thought was best, even if that paved the road to Hell as the saying goes. As for my ability...
You're not wrong, no. You saw the arrow, didn't you? It was-- a funny story, really. I was tidying the church at night, keeping the candles lit, that sort of thing, and I literally fell over the man who gave me that arrowhead. [That detachment's gone now, replaced wholly by nostalgia and affection. It feels...inappropriate to be touching someone else while talking about DIO, so he straightens up and neatly laces his hands in his lap, smiling absently as he withdraws into that particularly pleasant memory.] He merely wanted sanctuary, said he was allergic to the sun. So I told him that he could stay as long as he left at sunrise, and he...Thought that was amusing. Thought it hilarious that I didn't press further, even if it would be a ridiculous lie to tell in the first place. Clearly it was fate that we met, he said, and maybe we could meet again; so I was given the arrow, in case I ever wanted to see him again.
The story goes about as well as you'd expect it to, I suppose. I'll spare you the details for tonight, at any rate. But you remind me of him in his finest moments. Understanding, dry, more than mortal, and exceedingly brilliant; like a flame when I'm a pathetic moth.
no subject
Pucci's power is formidable -- the ability to cast illusions would be dangerous in the wrong hands, the ability to manipulate memories doubly so. Not to mention the gruesome manner in which his power had manifested. And it was all caused by that strange arrowhead? What kind of man would hand over such a powerful artifact seemingly on a whim, to someone he'd just met?
Not that it sounds particularly suspect. Just strange. Avicebron dwells on it briefly, but Pucci's glowing praise is more than enough to snap him out of his thoughts. ]
You vastly overrate me. [ There's traces of a tired, sardonic smile on his features. But only for a moment before he touches his face, bringing back his mask. He fidgets with his hair as he continues, gathering up stray locks and tucking them back. ] I'm something inhuman, but my existence is based on a human. I'm terribly flawed, and I've made grave mistakes. You've no need to think of yourself as anything lesser than me.
[ His hat shimmers back into existence as well, and he's his usual self once more, perfectly composed and distant. ]
It seems your life was a tumultuous one, and was heavily affected by the emergence of your ability. But more than your ability, I find your composure impressive -- your current grace and dignity despite having suffered through such events. That much has little to do with whether either of us is human or not.
no subject
He waves one hand, signalling that particular tangent dealt with, and returns to the cheese platter to occupy himself instead. Just give him a minute, okay.]
Everyone has their troubles, don't they? I don't see myself as special for managing to blunder my way into surviving; that's just how it was meant to be. Nor can I say that I feel I have any grace and composure; it's a coping mechanism and nothing more. ...But that's neither here nor there, I suppose.
...I'm sorry. Those memories affect me about as much as you'd expect, so I fear I'm growing tired and bitter. Even now, I'm struggling to not lecture you for never taking my compliments as though you haven't previously asked me to abstain from them. 'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.' [Time to take his frustration out on the cheese! Brie's not satisfying enough to hack, so one of the harder cheeses will have to do.] ...Avicebron.
If you could change the workings of reality so that you would be able to come to terms with those grave mistakes far easier, to not regret your decisions...Would you do that? Would you avoid anyone suffering as you have?
no subject
And given what Pucci asks next, he almost feels like he's being reminded of it. Even knowing that Pucci isn't aware of what he's done, that question still earns a small flinch, and Avicebron stiffly laces his hands as he looks away. ]
'Change the workings of reality.' [ He echoes those words quietly, ducking his head. There's a pause before he clears his throat, continuing quietly. ] Of course, I dearly wish for the salvation of humanity. More than anything. But ...
[ There's the click of metal parts as he unlaces, then relaces his fingers. Tense. ]
... the greatest sin I committed was in blind pursuit of a similar goal, and it was something that must not be forgiven. Must be regretted. It was my fault for thinking, even for a moment, that good intentions would justify all means. [ He swallows thickly before looking back to Pucci, and there's a harder edge to his voice. ] I apologize for speaking so much of myself. But I trust you won't be so foolish as to make a similar mistake.
[ After all, Pucci was the one who brought the subject up, and it sends an uneasy feeling crawling down his spine. Surely Pucci isn't following that same dark path. He dearly hopes it's just a misunderstanding. ]
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'He's calling you stupid, Enrico. Calling your life's work foolish. Calling DIO's Heaven of equality a mistake. Twenty-two years. You're not going to give up because your new infatuation thinks it's stupid, are you?'
Pucci doesn't move. Just stares at his feet as Whitesnake idly picks up one of the harder cheeses and starts crushing it. 'And now you can't lie your way out, either. Now he knows you're ugly, full of sin and wrath. Why change course when he'll leave you?']
...I do this for humanity. So they can know true heaven on earth, or here. I can't change my past, but I can help others if I just--
['Tell him what you're really thinking, Enriiiico. The dying defence of a panicking child.'
It starts playing with Avicebron's hair, every inch the poltergeist, and Pucci finally looks up.] It's not foolish. I do this for love, and I won't start regretting my actions now. What will you do, knowing this?
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I won't condemn you, Enrico.
[ Said quietly, but firmly, after a long moment's consideration. Avicebron forces himself to maintain eye contact past the mask. ]
I don't know the details of your circumstances. Nor am I in the position to judge anyone else's actions. It's not my place to deem your actions wrong.
[ He exhales slowly, trying to push back the discomfort weighing in his chest as he goes on, voice perfectly level and nonjudgmental. ]
Humanity has persevered despite its suffering. And for one human to deem certain sacrifices worthy just to end that tolerable suffering is ... arrogant. That was the mistake I made. Ambition and goodwill are admirable. But I hope you've considered your path carefully -- I don't wish for you to make the same mistake.
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...I wish I could reassure you. I know you're not saying any of this lightly, and I don't want you to think that I make light of your experience in turn. ['But he doesn't know, does he?'] --Whitesnake, go. I'm not in the mood.
[So it slips away, oil haze in its wake, and Pucci runs both hands over his feathers with a loud, pained sigh. For once, he's the one not making eye contact; it feels like he's disappointed a favourite teacher, rather than confessed to at least part of his grand plan. There's guilt, sure, but not for the sacrifices he's already made. Not for shooting his long-term bodyguard point blank in the head, not for leaving his twin for dead, not for anything bar having Avicebron know.
But it's also a relief, somehow.] Perhaps it's arrogant. Perhaps I really am foolish. But I will see it happen. And if I don't, then at least I can die knowing that I did what I could for the one person who loved me even when I was broken. People will be equal, and they'll be able to come to terms with their suffering instead of shattering as I did, and as DIO did.
I want you to see it. I want you there, Avicebron. Seeing this transformed world in its beauty, whether I'm in it or not...That would be almost as good as having my King of Kings witness his dream come to fruition.
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But deep inside, he knows that humans were never meant to attain such a lofty goal. The world is not something so easily swayed.
His shoulders rise and fall in a small sigh before he reaches out, gently touching at Pucci's forearm. ]
Enrico. I'm irrelevant to this matter. And despite what I said, it's not my place to lecture or criticize you. I only spoke as a ... friend.
[ It's so rare for him to use that word, and it comes out stiffly. But it's not said lightly. He grips gingerly at Pucci's sleeve for a moment before letting go. ]
I feel you're a good person. And I don't wish you to stray from that path. I don't want you to die, and I don't wish for you to define yourself by your singular goal. That is all. [ Especially if it's dangerous, to himself or to others. But he refrains from saying that out loud. Avicebron pulls his hand away, ducking his gaze away. ] ... I apologize. You were honest with me, but I repaid you poorly. It still means a great deal to me. I promise.
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[Thankfully, he doesn't sigh again. Though the soft chuckle he lets out is almost one, with the strange sad angle it's got, but-- not quite. It takes another second of effort for Pucci to resume eye contact (and the touch helps as far as motivation goes, as does Avicebron's clear effort to bridge this peculiar gap), and by that time, it's too late. Ah well! Shit happens.]
Please, don't take my refusal to let go as not accepting your counsel. I cherish it greatly, and...This is a relief. I know that I'm forcing you to be party to this, and that's unfair. But I adore you, obviously, so...Even just knowing that you're not rejecting me for what I have to do is beyond the boundary of my vocabulary, really.
And a little part of me wishes that we could've met then, instead. Maybe I could have made you proud and become a real person. I think I would've enjoyed that.
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But none of those things seem right for the moment. So Avicebron is silent for a moment before leaning in a little closer. ]
Nothing would bring me greater peace of mind than to be understood despite my ambitions and my sins. I can only attempt to show you that same kindness to the best of my abilities.
[ 'For now.'
It's gentle when he cants his head up to touch foreheads with Pucci, the cold metal of his mask making contact for a brief moment before he sits back. With a gentle clear of the throat he's back to being distant and calm and deadpan like his usual self. Like nothing's wrong. ]
You seem tired. If you need to recuperate alone, or if there is anything you need to recover, you need only say so.
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Maybe he could face Perla, then.
But that's in the future. Right now, things aren't a lost cause and that cold metal against his feathered forehead means more than he'll likely ever say.]
My abilities drained me a little, nothing more. I'm sorry again, for...For things going this way. I didn't want anyone to know so that it could be a pleasant surprise. Wake up one morning, and everyone is intellectually equal and void of complete fear. I won't ask you to moonlace with me when I've already likely made you uncomfortable, hm?
Would you like me to escort you home, since it's dark now? Not that you need it, of course...Or I could make you a coffee for the road, if you'd prefer.
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So instead of responding to any of that, he only holds out a hand. ]
I don't mind moonlacing. If this much is enough.
[ There's a pause before he continues a little stiffly, realizing that could be taken the wrong way. ]
-- not out of discomfort. I'm only offering this much not out of any distaste for you, but because I'm not, ah ... in the mood.
[ Not the type of slang he usually uses, but at the moment, it's all he can think of. Saying that out loud was a bit more embarrassing than he thought it would be, and he looks away, other hand touching at his mask. The hand held out for Pucci to take remains steady, though. ]
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Thankfully, there's nothing seductive or overtly confident in his manner; message received loud and clear on that front. If anything, tonight's worn down his typical front and left the sad, vulnerable teenager in its wake, going by the gratitude he's exuding for even this much contact.] That's alright. Obviously, I'm not exactly in the right mindset either, and I'd prefer if we were both rather keen on the idea of more. This is plenty, thank you. ...And I'll clear up the leftovers to make up for any gap, anyway.
Did you end up making something with the amethyst, yet? I'd like to hear about that, if you have-- and if it's no bother, of course. I know I'm nosy.
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No, not yet. [ A small shake of the head. ] The more time I spend here, the more I realize quality materials are difficult to procure. The amethyst is a rare, excellent sample, and it was something you gave me. I want to use it meaningfully, using suitably good materials.
[ Not to mention, his golems don't have an immediate, pressing purpose here, since he hasn't been summoned to fight. It's harder to think of a worthy use for such a good gem. Avicebron cants his head, thoughtful, before looking to Pucci. ]
Enrico. Is there anything you would wish to see from a golem?
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[He seriously mulls that over, cupid's bow touching at cold metal in thought. What would he like to see in a golem? Is there anything that would actually specifically please him to have created?]
...I just want to see something you made that you feel is brilliant. I want to feel like I helped you make something marvellous, even if it was just by supplying a gemstone. There's no specific function that I want so much as your satisfaction with your creation. ...Which is about as helpful as a steering wheel on a mule, I realise. As a patron of this particular scholastic art, however...That's my dearest desire.
Something you're proud of, that makes you shine.
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[ He falls silent after that. It's only the absent way he fidgets with Pucci's hand, thumb rubbing against his palm, that suggests he's ruminating and not spaced-out. ]
My golems are generally created for a purpose. [ He speaks up again somewhat abruptly. ] Doing chores or assisting with my work. Often combat. So it's difficult to think in such abstract terms. But ...
[ A small nod. ]
... something that can bring others peace of mind, somehow. [ A much humbler goal than his ultimate dream of Eden. Something much more attainable. Something that might help Pucci, too. ] I feel that may be a worthwhile pursuit. What do you think?
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It was a nice little break, really. And now he's got the energy to be appropriately enthused about this idea, stars firing in his pitch void eyes as he leans in just a little.] Oh! I know it was a terribly abstract concept that I gave you, but...I like the sound of that. And I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by you wanting to help people in this manner, but that doesn't mean that I'm not further horrendously endeared by the idea all the same.
If anyone can work with a directive like that, it'll be you. [Another double-handed squeeze, face lit up to match, before Pucci lets out a soft chuckle.] An emotional support golem, perhaps. A golem to reassure or...Something. You'll do wonderfully, and I can't wait to see it. I might even commission one from you, so that I'm not such a persistent bother all the time! Ha.
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It would be my first time attempting such a thing. I do enjoy the challenge, of course. But it seems a difficult task. I'll have to try my utmost.
[ At least Pucci seems to be feeling better, judging by that renewed shine in his eyes; Avicebron studies his face carefully for a moment before ducking his gaze once more, lightly squeezing Pucci's hand back with his own. ]
You're no bother to me. But I'd like you to help me test that golem for me, once I begin developing it. I'd like for it to be useful to you.
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[It's defensive, automatic. The sound of a wary little animal tasting something it's unfamiliar with in the air.]
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[Pucci relaxes muscles he hadn't even known he'd been tensing and forces the lingering wariness from his face, exhaling slowly to try and resume being Normal. Normal guys doing Normal things like hanging out together over alien cheese and childhood trauma, hell yeah bro.] No matter the reasoning, I'd be glad to help even further. It'd allow me a look at golemancy without imposing on you as a student would his teacher. Just let me know when you want for my assistance, and I'll help however I can.
...Really, though...I don't require a golem to be at my side every waking moment just to reassure me. I'm a grown man, Avicebron; I can self-soothe at my age, I promise. [Another slow breath ending in a quiet chuckle, before he gently pries his hands away to link primly in his lap, as always.] I didn't do this for you to think differently of me, though I know that sort of thing can't very well be controlled consciously.
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[ His tone of voice is as level and calm as ever, but that sure was a pause before he answered. Avicebron pulls his hands back and looks away across the room. ]
Unlike you, I’m weak. I’m hardly as capable or as wise as you seem to think of me. So your presence has granted me great peace of mind. I’m grateful for it, and wished to repay that favor in some fashion, if only for a moment. It was a selfish desire, so if you’ve no need of it, I won’t impose, of course.
[ His gaze had slowly drifted downwards into his hands as he spoke, metal parts clicking softly as he flexed his fingers, but as he finishes, he looks up, then rises to his feet. Avicebron doesn’t quite meet Pucci’s gaze as he gives a small nod. ]
In any case, you seem to be feeling better, so I’ll be taking my leave. You should still rest after having spent so much energy. Thank you for your hospitality.
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[What, Pucci? What the fuck are you going to say? Prime numbers under his breath for at least a few seconds, apparently, and then words.] ...I'm sorry that I've been poor company tonight. That I've treated you with anything less than the composure and dignity I'd like for you to associate with me. And I'm sorry that I've been a worse friend, when you came over at such short notice and wanted nothing more than to help me.
[But the damage is done now, isn't it? So he simply follows suit, dusting off his robes and smiling more out of habit than genuine feeling.] I hope that, at least, this can be my cue to try to get to know you better. And...perhaps prompt you into doing the same for me, if you think that I'm at all strong. But that's enough self-flagellation for the pair of us for the evening, indeed! Here, let me at least walk you to the door.
['Walk him to'? More like 'swan over to the door without waiting and hold it open like there aren't cracks in whatever defence mechanism he's got up right now', but that's just how it is.] And I really can't thank you enough for humouring me tonight. If nothing else, I hope that you'll accept my feelings on that matter.