Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten your dedication to method acting. [He raises his voice to a dramatic, booming volume.] The dark Avenger, beyond hatred and love! A demon of Chateaeu d'If, wielding the despair of the damned!
[He sinks back to his regular volume, snide.]
I've seen your performance so many times that I could be your understudy. But allow me to remind you, Avenger, that an act with no audience is simply a madman reciting fiction to himself.
If the act is to be given in the first place. It may only take place in the theatre of the mind, where man is playwright, actor, spectator, and critic all at once.
[an eyebrow that was raised at the impression slowly lowers, and Dantes taps the ash off the end of his cigarette, giving a small hmph.]
Why are you even in here? The revels are elsewhere.
[And isn't that reason enough? He was a being who lived according to his fantasies and whims. If he smelled even the slightest hint of a story, he must follow it.
Andersen begins making his way to Dantes.]
That, and you were a frequent visitor to my study in Chaldea. I've a habit of keeping tabs on my readers.
Too much curiosity let loose the sufferings of mankind into the world.
[he doesn't move closer to invite him, but nor does he draw away. he watches, gauging the Servant's actions.]
I should take you to task for trying to study me so, but I find that I care not at the present time. Telling you not to pry is a fool's errand - it would be telling fire not to burn all it touches. Instead, I shall take on a much simpler task, and that is to discern why these witches think that we can stop this Cwyld and save this world.
I can see why they summoned us specifically. We're Heroic Spirits. Stranded from our Master, yes, but to protect a planet is our reason for being. [He pauses as he silently considers a point.] Though, I'm a shit excuse for a Servant. Imagine rolling for a true Caster like Circe and winding up with me, an alcoholic peddler of words. Ha! The only way I can be useful is if I'm locked up in a room.
[He shrugs.]
I wouldn't know about the rest. I haven't stuck my nose deeply enough into this cast of characters yet.
[his eyes narrow, considering the words and the drinks, and then shrugs his shoulders. the day was a headache enough, what pain would adding a drink or two do?]
...Not here. I took stock of a more comfortable room elsewhere in this building.
[and he turns on his heel, expecting to be followed. the good thing is that he's correct - it's a cozier space, the green room for the performers, and though it's also left alone, there are chairs and lights that work when Dantes flicks them on.
what can he say, he dislikes drinking in the wrong settings.]
[A performer requires the right stage to properly enact his role. It's not a surprise that a man like Avenger keeps things in little compartments. He plays a persona constructed with careful preparation - and now that Andersen thinks on it, he never took a closer look at him back at Chaldea. Perhaps now would be a good time to catch up.
Immediately, Andersen makes for the largest and coziest chair he lays eyes upon. Throws himself upon it, claiming it as his throne.]
Oho. I'm surprised there aren't more rats scurrying about!
Don't get too comfortable, I expect them to burst from the innards of the chair at the moment you least expect it.
[he says this, and yet takes another chair, leaning back in it with cigarette in hand. still the count's posture and scrutinizing eyes, as though this world owed him perfection and he'd settle for nothing less.]
[He's dined and spoken with all manners of royalty. Authority doesn't cow Andersen as it had in his life, when he had to scramble to appease editors and patrons alike. He casually picks up a bottle and extends it to Avenger.]
Someone with your tastes would never accept such conditions. The Count of Monte Cristo may be a demon of hatred, but he treats all his guests with exceptional courtesy and grace.
[he takes the bottle and pries off the cap, breathing in another long drag of smoke. this one is almost done, and he knows he's fully stocked. but his stress levels could change that quickly.]
You're right on that front. I endeavor to give my guests a remarkable experience always. Though I would not usually entertain in a place like this, you must forgive my inability to fully accept the witches' charity. To a degree, yes, it is inevitable. But to entrust my being in my vulnerable hours to walls they will vouchsafe? No. Never. These are poor conditions to be a guest - and yet somehow, I wonder if you truly mind.
[the butt of the cigarette is stubbed out in the bottle cap and set aside, and his eyes go back to the other Servant.]
[He opens his own bottle in the meantime and takes a swig immediately. Despite his small stature, Andersen's more than capable of handling his alcohol.]
I can't deny this place could do with some renovations.
[Though this theatre is buried beneath dust and darkness, he can still see traces of its former glory. The gold-trimmed curtains, the comfortable furniture in this room, old posters of shows no longer playing. It depresses him.]
My ideal workplace shall always be indoors with a hot mug of coffee and central heating. But I'm a man accustomed to working in all sorts of conditions. This is far from the filthiest place I've relaxed in.
[He leans back in his chair.]
Your paranoia is not completely unfounded, given what I've heard about Dorchacht.
Yes, I also heard that name in my observations. And those here consider themselves above such acts? Man does not change in his atrocities no matter the world he sets foot in. For now, they believe themselves above such actions, but the foundations are already set in place in their society to allow it, should they tighten the screws more on the populace. They are not any better than the worst that roams the streets - I cannot in good conscience accept their gifts, until I know them.
[the theatre could be beautiful, if it was only tended to. if it was brought out of where it was hiding. but would he do it, or would he simply wander freely> he didn't know, yet, and sips the beer in contemplation.]
What is your opinion of it all so far? [this city, these people, these conditions. however he took the words.]
You're asking for my opinion when I'm not even a third of the way through the book.
[It's too early to say. He's only seen a small portion of this world. One city does not define a civilization. But if it's a matter of their situation... Andersen idly swirls his beer about.]
It's a stroke of poor luck that we were brought here, though it's perhaps this planet's intent. Certain Servants act as a Counter Force for the World. It could be this place attempted the same - only its magic was capable of reaching beyond dimensions.
[He gives a long, long sigh.]
I see the Coven as running around like headless chickens. We aren't much better.
[he gives a thoughtful hum, but doesn't speak immediately. being a Counter Force was somewhat better than being forcibly summoned - and indeed, he doesn't feel the same pull on the magic to strike a contract or find a Master. no, but there was that Bond business to deal with.
Dantes takes a drink and exhales sharply.]
With mages, I tend to assume they know more than they want to let on. Acting blind and stupid could be a diversion.
If that were the case, I'd think more of the Servants would be openly rebelling. Not many of them are the type to accept the yoke of a questionable Master.
[...]
From what I heard, at least one of them is happy with their life here.
At least six. Perhaps seven or eight, not including us. A woman I met said she was a former Master and referred to an Archer and a Lancer running about. I haven't met them in person, however.
[he frowns at that, falling into a bit of thought.]
...Then perhaps it would be wisest for me to conceal my own identity as such. With that many about, surely at least some information about what exactly Servants are is let loose. It is an unnecessary vulnerability to have immediately after arrival.
I get it. I'll keep my mouth shut, since you went out of your way to service Shakespeare and I.
[The coffees were a small gesture, but they did not go unnoticed.]
In any case, what will you do about this Bond business? If you're going to be concealing your identity, it'll make finding a partner all the more difficult.
I suppose I shall have to manage myself until I find one soul in this city who proves themselves adequate for me to propose a Bond. I certainly cannot trust a stranger immediately to enter into such vows. It would be a preposterous leap of faith. I must know their character, must know their trustworthiness, and to know that they would be willing to feel the heat of the flames of hell from what I do, without a sign of shirking.
[when he feels like he can entrust his name to them, then he'll know.]
[the disbelief is clear in his tone and the sharpness of his gaze. surely, Andersen had heard what the Coven said about Bonds, and the closeness therein.]
You don't even know the half of what you'd be getting into.
You don't know me as well as I know you, Edmond Dantes. If you did, those words wouldn't leave your mouth so easily.
[Andersen's read his story. Despite the hell Avenger crafted for his foes - despite the vengeance he exacted without mercy - his kindness cannot be erased. Maximilian. Louise. Mercedes. Haydee. At the end of it all, he was only a man. No demon.
(andersen has served a true demon before and he knows that, were it not for ritsuka, he'd be willing to do so again. he's grateful he isn't in that position.)]
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[He sinks back to his regular volume, snide.]
I've seen your performance so many times that I could be your understudy. But allow me to remind you, Avenger, that an act with no audience is simply a madman reciting fiction to himself.
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[an eyebrow that was raised at the impression slowly lowers, and Dantes taps the ash off the end of his cigarette, giving a small hmph.]
Why are you even in here? The revels are elsewhere.
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[And isn't that reason enough? He was a being who lived according to his fantasies and whims. If he smelled even the slightest hint of a story, he must follow it.
Andersen begins making his way to Dantes.]
That, and you were a frequent visitor to my study in Chaldea. I've a habit of keeping tabs on my readers.
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[he doesn't move closer to invite him, but nor does he draw away. he watches, gauging the Servant's actions.]
I should take you to task for trying to study me so, but I find that I care not at the present time. Telling you not to pry is a fool's errand - it would be telling fire not to burn all it touches. Instead, I shall take on a much simpler task, and that is to discern why these witches think that we can stop this Cwyld and save this world.
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[He shrugs.]
I wouldn't know about the rest. I haven't stuck my nose deeply enough into this cast of characters yet.
[He hoists up the beers he's holding.]
Do you want one?
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...Not here. I took stock of a more comfortable room elsewhere in this building.
[and he turns on his heel, expecting to be followed. the good thing is that he's correct - it's a cozier space, the green room for the performers, and though it's also left alone, there are chairs and lights that work when Dantes flicks them on.
what can he say, he dislikes drinking in the wrong settings.]
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Immediately, Andersen makes for the largest and coziest chair he lays eyes upon. Throws himself upon it, claiming it as his throne.]
Oho. I'm surprised there aren't more rats scurrying about!
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[he says this, and yet takes another chair, leaning back in it with cigarette in hand. still the count's posture and scrutinizing eyes, as though this world owed him perfection and he'd settle for nothing less.]
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Someone with your tastes would never accept such conditions. The Count of Monte Cristo may be a demon of hatred, but he treats all his guests with exceptional courtesy and grace.
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[he takes the bottle and pries off the cap, breathing in another long drag of smoke. this one is almost done, and he knows he's fully stocked. but his stress levels could change that quickly.]
You're right on that front. I endeavor to give my guests a remarkable experience always. Though I would not usually entertain in a place like this, you must forgive my inability to fully accept the witches' charity. To a degree, yes, it is inevitable. But to entrust my being in my vulnerable hours to walls they will vouchsafe? No. Never. These are poor conditions to be a guest - and yet somehow, I wonder if you truly mind.
[the butt of the cigarette is stubbed out in the bottle cap and set aside, and his eyes go back to the other Servant.]
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I can't deny this place could do with some renovations.
[Though this theatre is buried beneath dust and darkness, he can still see traces of its former glory. The gold-trimmed curtains, the comfortable furniture in this room, old posters of shows no longer playing. It depresses him.]
My ideal workplace shall always be indoors with a hot mug of coffee and central heating. But I'm a man accustomed to working in all sorts of conditions. This is far from the filthiest place I've relaxed in.
[He leans back in his chair.]
Your paranoia is not completely unfounded, given what I've heard about Dorchacht.
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[the theatre could be beautiful, if it was only tended to. if it was brought out of where it was hiding. but would he do it, or would he simply wander freely> he didn't know, yet, and sips the beer in contemplation.]
What is your opinion of it all so far? [this city, these people, these conditions. however he took the words.]
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[It's too early to say. He's only seen a small portion of this world. One city does not define a civilization. But if it's a matter of their situation... Andersen idly swirls his beer about.]
It's a stroke of poor luck that we were brought here, though it's perhaps this planet's intent. Certain Servants act as a Counter Force for the World. It could be this place attempted the same - only its magic was capable of reaching beyond dimensions.
[He gives a long, long sigh.]
I see the Coven as running around like headless chickens. We aren't much better.
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Dantes takes a drink and exhales sharply.]
With mages, I tend to assume they know more than they want to let on. Acting blind and stupid could be a diversion.
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[...]
From what I heard, at least one of them is happy with their life here.
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[what is this, Chaldea?]
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At least six. Perhaps seven or eight, not including us. A woman I met said she was a former Master and referred to an Archer and a Lancer running about. I haven't met them in person, however.
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...Then perhaps it would be wisest for me to conceal my own identity as such. With that many about, surely at least some information about what exactly Servants are is let loose. It is an unnecessary vulnerability to have immediately after arrival.
[his eyes snap up to Andersen.]
As is a True Name.
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I get it. I'll keep my mouth shut, since you went out of your way to service Shakespeare and I.
[The coffees were a small gesture, but they did not go unnoticed.]
In any case, what will you do about this Bond business? If you're going to be concealing your identity, it'll make finding a partner all the more difficult.
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[when he feels like he can entrust his name to them, then he'll know.]
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Don't you play hide-and-seek with Nursery Rhyme and Bunyan, O terrifying demon?
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[the disbelief is clear in his tone and the sharpness of his gaze. surely, Andersen had heard what the Coven said about Bonds, and the closeness therein.]
You don't even know the half of what you'd be getting into.
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[Andersen's read his story. Despite the hell Avenger crafted for his foes - despite the vengeance he exacted without mercy - his kindness cannot be erased. Maximilian. Louise. Mercedes. Haydee. At the end of it all, he was only a man. No demon.
(andersen has served a true demon before and he knows that, were it not for ritsuka, he'd be willing to do so again. he's grateful he isn't in that position.)]
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