[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.
That's my line. I'm your Monster - it's my role to look out for you.
[to wrap his injuries and call him a fool and drag him home when he was drunk and protect him from certain Berserkers. to be a channel for his excess magic and be teeth and claws in the darkness. to be his partner, even if he feels like a Servant with it - more than usual.]
And I can do that while remaining in the depths of Hell. It is my birthplace, it holds no terror for me.
Oh, shut up. Your birthplace is Marseilles, not Hell. And if you confine yourself to Hell, I have to march down there to squat beside you. Have you thought about that?
[Andersen says all this without looking Dantes's way, but the conviction in his tone is unmistakable.]
A Bond requires two equal parts to form a strong knot. Don't forget that.
[it's an admission pulled from a less used place, him soaking up the heat from the fire and wondering which of them was the Master and which the Servant in these circumstances.]
I am...ill accustomed to such actions in the reverse. Beyond the boundaries of what our Master did for us.
[To be a Servant is an odd experience for some Heroic Spirits. For Andersen, his situation's remained much the same. Serving others is all he's done - lifting others up, be it through word or subtle actions - was what satisfied the ache in his heart that lingers long after death. He turns towards Dantes at his admission, eyebrows raised in surprise.]
... what I did is something our Master would've done.
[For that was just how that foolish child was. Andersen admired that kindness. It made him want to be better.]
Don't think of my actions as above and beyond. Think of it as... someone acting in the interests of maintaining a professional relationship.
[the sound he makes back is noncommittal, and he stares into the depths of the flames as if that will give him more of an answer. Andersen isn't their Master, and he's glad for it - they didn't need this world's burdens on their own.]
If you're acting in the interests of our professional relationship, does that extend to you getting me a blanket?
[he's actually comfortable for once and trying to not lose it.]
You're not exactly like other housepets, you know. Don't take that high-and-mighty tone with me!
[Exit Andersen, stage right. He returns a minute later with a thick blanket folded up in his arms, which he throws on Dantes, definitely out of spite.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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[to wrap his injuries and call him a fool and drag him home when he was drunk and protect him from certain Berserkers. to be a channel for his excess magic and be teeth and claws in the darkness. to be his partner, even if he feels like a Servant with it - more than usual.]
And I can do that while remaining in the depths of Hell. It is my birthplace, it holds no terror for me.
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[Andersen says all this without looking Dantes's way, but the conviction in his tone is unmistakable.]
A Bond requires two equal parts to form a strong knot. Don't forget that.
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[it's an admission pulled from a less used place, him soaking up the heat from the fire and wondering which of them was the Master and which the Servant in these circumstances.]
I am...ill accustomed to such actions in the reverse. Beyond the boundaries of what our Master did for us.
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... what I did is something our Master would've done.
[For that was just how that foolish child was. Andersen admired that kindness. It made him want to be better.]
Don't think of my actions as above and beyond. Think of it as... someone acting in the interests of maintaining a professional relationship.
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If you're acting in the interests of our professional relationship, does that extend to you getting me a blanket?
[he's actually comfortable for once and trying to not lose it.]
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... remaining professional doesn't mean I'm cruel. I need you to be healthy.
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[the transformation took energy from him, with all that fighting.]
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Can't you just shake the water off? Can't cats do that?
[He says, getting up anyway.]
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[you'd have a wet living room if he could just do that. well, he could shake, but he's not sure what good it'd do.]
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[Exit Andersen, stage right. He returns a minute later with a thick blanket folded up in his arms, which he throws on Dantes, definitely out of spite.]
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It's only the same tone you take with me day in and day out, I can't see why it's a problem.
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