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[rebellionyell]

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just after the network post;

[illithidnapped]

What, so now you're taking her side?

[Asks Astarion, wholly unprompted, without a scrap of evidence that that's actually the case.]

[rebellionyell]

Not treating her like shit isn't taking a side.

[He might be out drinking and wandering around aimlessly to distract himself.]

[illithidnapped]

[Dante's answer isn't meant as an implication regarding Astarion's own behavior; bristling like a thing caged, though, Astarion's mind can't quite tell the difference. Everything feels like an insult.

Salt over open wounds.]

You don't know what she's like.

What she's said—

You don't even know what happened.

[rebellionyell]

No, I don't know what happened. Stories have two sides, I get that.

[He's just trying to sort out his thoughts.]

[illithidnapped]

So then—

[Stop-start; some of the wind in his injured sails lost to the levelness of Dante's response— as if he isn't quite sure of the path he'd been treading, now.

Or what he's staring down, in a sense.]

...I don't understand.

[Why this matters to you. Why you seem bothered by it.]

[rebellionyell]

I don't know how to explain it.

[So of course he has to carefully think about what he wants to say and how to phrase it.

That becomes a difficult task when you're compounding confusion with drinking.]

I like you and that's why it matters.

[As if that makes sense.]

[illithidnapped]

[The sound he starts to make is...air, mostly. A little like the word ‘I’ that then trails off entirely, no vocal catch whatsoever.

No, he can’t quite make sense of it.

But maybe Dante can’t either.]

...how much have you been drinking?

[rebellionyell]

Maybe a little.

[So he says before the sounds of a man stumbling, shouting, and hitting the ground could be heard.

And then for a moment it's ocean waves crashing on the shore before Dante comes back to himself.]

Maybe more than a little.

[illithidnapped]

[There’s a sigh there. Not unfond. Not even exasperated or tired for that matter, just—]

Where are you.

[Aside from ‘somewhere along the ocean’, which won’t make finding him any easier.

Astarion’s promised to return to Fenris before the evening’s out— and he will still, but.

He can’t leave Dante like this.]

[rebellionyell]

There's a place on the side of the bluff, it's quiet, it's safe.

[It requires the rock climber ability or in Dante's case the ability to glide and stick the landing. Sticking it is the important part.]

I like the view.

[illithidnapped]

On the—

[His scoff is sharp. Characteristically so.]

Well how in the Hells am I supposed to get up there?

[rebellionyell]

Wait, you're not coming all the way out here?

[Is he coming out here to find him?]

[illithidnapped]

Obviously. What else would I do, leave you wallowing in your misery?

You’re likely to wash up on shore tomorrow morning.

[Roughly translated, this means he’s concerned....in his own way.]

crystal.

[elegiaque]

Thank you. For the flowers.

( there's the start of something at the end of that, and then nothing. she doesn't need to say who it is, she's almost certain, how fucking many distraught women is the man sending flowers.

not that she was distraught. she's fine, actually. super. )

[rebellionyell]

[You'd think flowers in winter would be hard to come by, but white Anemone, greenery, and berries were actually kind of nice all things considered.]

You're welcome and...ah...if you wanna talk or...if you need a sounding board or whatever I'm good for both. Just in case.

[elegiaque]

( somewhere in antiva with a white anemone pressed between the pages of a poetry book she'd packed in her things, gwenaëlle (who is sentimental in ways she's rarely given credit for) is quiet for a long time. )

We were separated. At the time. And now, actually, so it's not as—

( I'm not angry, she'd told alexandrie, and then in the same breath crumpled in her arms. )

It's not as simple. As I made it sound.

( except for the part where her heart broke; that is remarkably, breathtakingly, unfairly straightforward. )

[rebellionyell]

Astarion and I had a candid conversation, and he said the same thing. That doesn't mean it can't hurt and it was definitely not a good opportunity to take a shot at you even in the spirit of a laugh.

[Dante's no relationship guru, but he gives off some pretty decent uncle vibes when he's got the presence of mind to.]

I think he might regret some of the things he's done more than he's willing to let on, but your feelings about...everything are justifiable.

[There are two sides to this situation and each side is going to see things through a different perspective.]

[elegiaque]

( the faint, irritated sound she makes at the idea of astarion's regrets is not unlike those she's made at astarion himself, refusing his sentiments and holding him at arm's length. she doesn't want that to be complicated, not when if she allows it to be she might do something stupid like think he cares or trust him.

she can't do anything gently or halfway. he doesn't even want her to trust him. she wants to be angry about that, losing the idea of a friend in the most perpetually humiliating way, but mostly she's tired. of him, of thranduil, of herself. )

Well, Maker forbid he not take a shot at me.

( a hard exhale— )

I bounced it off him, which was stupid, but it sort of made sense? He doesn't give a shit about me. You don't have to worry particularly about someone judging what you say if they're going to be equally insufferable about literally anything.

( she holds onto he doesn't care like it's a comfort blanket. )

Not that it helped, especially. And I don't know why it would have done, he has the logical deduction of a fucking toddler. 'Oh, it hurts me when she says these things, threatening to murder her will definitely help.' 'Oh, why is she angry with me now, I only said hurtful things to her repeatedly and expected her to take them on the chin exactly the way I'm incapable of.'

[rebellionyell]

[Dante sat with this for a minute, thinking to himself, all he had was his own life experiences to draw from to give advice from. He contemplated carefully when it came to telling people about his existence, but there were ways to tell his story without revealing the bits that would scare people.]

I am one-half of a whole, I was born a twin in an affluent family, in a nice manor on a hill. My mother had a smile that was as refreshing as a drop of dew and my father was a skilled fighter and a brave man, a knight. My father was plagued by duty and left when I was very young, leaving my brother and I with his skills in combat and a few precious relics.

[Skills also included demonic power and relics would be devil arms, but that was neither here nor there.]

The world continued to spin even when he wasn't there, my mother did the best she could being mother and father to twins who couldn't be more different. And then one day our home was attacked by demons, my mother hid me from the demons, but my brother Vergil...was off playing elsewhere. In a panic she searched and searched for him until it killed her.

[Was there a point to this, a point to any of this? Maybe? He'd get there eventually.]

I survived, there was a lot that happened in my childhood and youth that isn't really important, it's just filler. [Filler that mostly consisted of Dante repressing and regressing for many years.] I thought that everyone was dead, mother, brother, and most certainly my father. Until he returned, Vergil, my brother.

[Dante exhaled and gave himself a moment.]

It was like something out of a dream, this other half of me appearing out of nowhere and suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. He didn't feel the same way, he came back with a hatred of me and a single-minded pursuit of power. His return wasn't for me, but for our father's possessions, things that would grant him power.

[As one could imagine Dante's disappointment was beyond measure.]

It took a lot of fighting, bloodshed, and loss between the two of us before I came to realize that Vergil's hatred came from a place of love as hatred often does. You can't hate someone that much without caring, it ties in somewhere, whether you once loved that person, or that person threatened something you love. [The only thing more potent than hatred was indifference.] His side of things was this belief that our mother loved me more than she loved him, because I was saved while he was attacked by demons and made to suffer, but it wasn't true. It was his truth; it was the only truth he ever knew or cared about knowing and he needed it to be true. The alternative would have been worse.

[It would mean confronting his entire world view.]

His hatred of me was a hatred of the weakness he saw in me and didn't want inside of himself, he wanted to protect himself. His search for power was the same, you can't protect anything, not even yourself without power and he never wanted to feel weak or powerless again. There's an irony in that, embracing his hatred, his venom, and looking only for ways to protect himself in growing strength he would lose...again, and again, and again.

[Dante didn't say it out loud, but his attachment to Astarion was in part because he saw something in him that reminded him of Vergil. That was an entirely different and complicated can of worms, but there was a specific brand of hostility that was inherent inside of people who felt powerless.]

I don't think anyone deserves to exist in their pain, you don't, Astarion doesn't. Pain, anger, hatred, it's hard work, it's always tit-for-tat, and there's very little payoff only brief moments of satisfaction.

[elegiaque]

( gwenaëlle is not well known for her patience with the histories of rifters — it was a long time before she knew much of thranduil's, largely by her own design — but she understands what she's being told. the purpose of it. and though she doesn't know dante well, it's ... there's something to his willingness to expose it for her sake.

you know, something terrifying, but she respects it. understands it, too, in her own way. )

He's never going to see that.

( is matter of fact. there'd been a real moment of realization in their last spat, cruel but clear, and it's lingered afterwards. )

He expects to do and say whatever he likes without consequence or meaning, but he's a glass trebuchet and he shatters if you even look at it sideways. He's just going to keep hurting me from habit, and be as shocked and bewildered, see no connection at all, every single time I snap at him. I can tell him exactly how I feel and what I'm doing and why and I have, more than once, and it isn't what he wants to hear so he just doesn't. I'm just an awful bitch who says awful things for no reason, and whatever they love or hate—

( she blows her bangs out of her eyes. maybe she'll let them grow, while she's away. )

They don't see me.

( she wants to be seen; she is terrified of it.

but it doesn't seem like anything she needs to worry about happening soon. )

[rebellionyell]

I think Astarion is working through some growing pains. [And Dante has seen it, much like a child who wishes for their parent disappear when they are told to go to their room because being reprimanded, because it's the most painful thing. It's not always what the child means, there's just no emotional regulation. Dante has noticed that Astarion had his own struggles with regulation, not that he's a child, but his experiences seem insulated and focused on self-preservation.] And I know that's not your problem. I don't expect you to forgive him, that's a gift you give to yourself when you're ready for it. I don't expect you to cow to him or anything that's beneath your dignity.

[Dante knows Astarion can be a lot.]

But if you ever need a buffer, I'm bedrock, I'll talk to him and calm him. I don't think you're awful and I don't think you say the things you say for no reason, it's a reaction to an action.

[Dante has to think about that last statement for a moment, because it's cryptic and he's not the best at deciphering these things. She's suddenly not talking about Astarion, because Astarion definitely sees her, or they wouldn't have this kind of back and forth.

It took him a moment to realize this was about the ex-, Thranduil, whose name he didn't know, nor did he know anything about or what he looked like. Funny, because they were, in fact, neighbors-ish living three rooms down from one another in the same tower. He's probably seen him at some point, but he has no idea that Thranduil is the common denominator here.]

No man, or woman or...well you know...no one is worth your tears. If they don't see you then that's their problem, but [and this is just a thought exercise] what do you want them to see?

[elegiaque]

( it would be fair to say—

there are things that both men see in her. there are blindspots that both men have with regard to her, and gwenaëlle will willfully ignore the former and gnaw on the latter. to her mind, neither of them do, and— neither of them owe it to her.

they don't owe her anything. if the nothing hurts, it's her problem and not theirs. )

Nothing.

( not true. )

It doesn't matter, it's— they can do whatever they like, it isn't my business.

[rebellionyell]

That's fair enough.

[After all Dante isn't here to force an issue, just to have a conversation, get her perspective, and maybe get a little clarity. It's soup, this whole situation, and not the kind that's good for the soul, the murky greyish stuff they serve at the tavern.]

If you ever feel up to it, we could grab a drink, maybe play some cards and shoot the breeze. I'm bad at games of chance though, so go easy on me.

[elegiaque]

When I'm back fron Antiva. I'm adequate at cards if we're not playing for money, and I never play for my own money.

( rookie move. what, she's this hot and her grandfather's that rich and she's supposed to spend her own money?

please. )

[rebellionyell]

I stopped playing for money a long time ago, if I did I'd be completely broke, but I'll think of something else we can play for.

[Watch as Dante just goes out and drops his coin on a bag of chocolates and sweets. Like a grown ass man does.]