I could tell you the actual reason, but I thought you'd appreciate the mystery.
[ He shrugs. ]
As for your thanks, if you feel it's necessary, I accept it.
[ Berserker finds himself staring down at his hands in silence after that for a few moments too long. How do you even start to talk about what happened? ...You don't, that's how. ]
[You don't talk about it, especially not when you're someone accustomed to burying it all. Berserker doesn't strike him as the type to open up. And Andersen -- he's someone who would rather dramatize and flaunt the hurt, so he may bury the messier bits somewhere deep in his heart. They haven't spoken much prior to their imprisonment; they still don't. But what they both went through has created a strange tie, thin as it may be.
Andersen, then, can't help making a wisecrack.]
I'm doing better than you look, that's for sure.
[It's easier to talk if you put up a front.]
... I saw your other self in the cells, too. Has he bounced back yet?
[ He narrows his eyes, but doesn't comment on the wisecrack. It bothers him more than it should, if only because his wings are terribly scarred and he's found that he's somewhat self-conscious of that fact. If it had been from anything other than his forced captivity, it wouldn't bother him at all. He also hasn't been sleeping well and it shows.
Nevermind, he has something else to focus on. He and Caster...They, too, had gone through some shit. ]
He's fine. [ Physically, anyway. Berserker has his doubts any of them will be okay mentally for some time. ] His spite against those that took us will take him far.
The executions weren't enough to whet his appetite for vengeance?
[He understands, to an extent. The Rathmores were punished grievously for their crimes -- both with their lives and their property -- and that was poetic enough for his Bonded to be satisfied. He was the sort quelled by what he saw as justice. But what brings closure is never the same across people.]
Living well is the biggest thumb in their eye any of us can manage and that's just what he's doing. Rebuilding his business, too.
[ The executions weren't enough for Berserker, that's for sure. ]
We, the ones they kidnapped and tortured, should have been given the chance to do the job...Or at least been given the chance to harm them as they harmed us.
[ He sounds more sullen than anything, the reminder of what he'd suffered unpleasant and unwanted. ]
That would've been quite the spectacle. Mirrorbounds lining up to carve their piece of flesh -- I wonder if that would've horrified this city.
[It likely would have. There was a reason why his Bonded hadn't been allowed to sink his fangs into their captors, why the Rathmores had been kept alive until their sentences were declared. Andersen leans back into his chair.]
...
[Suddenly, he makes a frustrated noise.]
This is a grim conversation. So be it. I'd like something just as dark and gritty sitting in my stomach while we have it. Pick a drink, why don't you? Waiter!
[Better pick fast! Andersen is waving down a server!]
Hm. Fascinating. It's as you say, you're no Avenger. An Alter is an empty shade that shouldn't exist, while an Avenger is an existence born to suffer and die.
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[ He shrugs. ]
As for your thanks, if you feel it's necessary, I accept it.
[ Berserker finds himself staring down at his hands in silence after that for a few moments too long. How do you even start to talk about what happened? ...You don't, that's how. ]
You're doing better, aren't you?
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Andersen, then, can't help making a wisecrack.]
I'm doing better than you look, that's for sure.
[It's easier to talk if you put up a front.]
... I saw your other self in the cells, too. Has he bounced back yet?
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Nevermind, he has something else to focus on. He and Caster...They, too, had gone through some shit. ]
He's fine. [ Physically, anyway. Berserker has his doubts any of them will be okay mentally for some time. ] His spite against those that took us will take him far.
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[He understands, to an extent. The Rathmores were punished grievously for their crimes -- both with their lives and their property -- and that was poetic enough for his Bonded to be satisfied. He was the sort quelled by what he saw as justice. But what brings closure is never the same across people.]
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[ The executions weren't enough for Berserker, that's for sure. ]
We, the ones they kidnapped and tortured, should have been given the chance to do the job...Or at least been given the chance to harm them as they harmed us.
[ He sounds more sullen than anything, the reminder of what he'd suffered unpleasant and unwanted. ]
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[It likely would have. There was a reason why his Bonded hadn't been allowed to sink his fangs into their captors, why the Rathmores had been kept alive until their sentences were declared. Andersen leans back into his chair.]
...
[Suddenly, he makes a frustrated noise.]
This is a grim conversation. So be it. I'd like something just as dark and gritty sitting in my stomach while we have it. Pick a drink, why don't you? Waiter!
[Better pick fast! Andersen is waving down a server!]
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[ And that doesn't bother him one bit. He knows his brutality knows no bounds, especially when he's driven to kill by something other than an order.
Ah, right. They're at a cafe, aren't they? ]
Black coffee is fine. [ He's not picky. ] I don't need anything else.
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Tell me. For an Alter, is there a constant need for vengeance and retribution?
[He's curious.]
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[ To say the least. ]
I'm not an Avenger. There's no point in vengeance and retribution. I would still be as empty as I am now if I ever killed Medb.
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[He mutters more to himself than to Berserker:]
I ought to compare my notes...
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[He doesn't say it to be rude. In his eyes, it's only the truth.
Their order arrives.]
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[ He says that to be rude as he picks up his cup. ]
I don't want to be part of your stories...Even though I have a feeling I already am, aren't I?