voidtreckerexpress | [CLOSED] how could I ever think it's funny

Entry tags:

elidibus [ou]

[CLOSED] how could I ever think it's funny

Who: Ansem and Xehanort, later Vexen. Also Special Guest Elidibus!
Where: Quiet Car, later elsewhere
When: Llama 21
What: Ansem informs Xehanort of his actions upon others, and offers him a choice.
Warnings: Horrible Decisions and Regret. Highlight the following for spoilers, but this is a heavy log and has some heavy content. CW for manipulation, attempted murder/suicide via poisoning, and talk of trauma/death/etc.

Ansem's memories were coming back in time on their own. Mostly, they came dreamlike, in slow bits and patches that he was eventually able to connect to others for a larger pictures. Occasionally, though, there was a sudden connection, a sudden flash; most often, these came upon a familiar action or face.

Such as Xehanort's own.

After speaking with others, learning more- it was, perhaps, no surprise that the memories that surfaced afterwards were ones primarily connected with the other man. His apprenticeship. His betrayal. His actions on to others- and Ansem himself, trapped in darkness, with only anger and rage to sustain him. Letting it drive him once he escaped to spread further harm to others, all in the name of revenge...

He could not change the past. He knew that. But...perhaps. Perhaps one could keep it from repeating.

And so he sought out the other, first checking his room, then the library- and then, as he moved past through the quiet car, he happened to glance through a window and find him. Well. That was convenient. A light rap on the door, and-

"Xehanort- I'd like to speak with you, please."

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Another Ansem and his Apprentices might be spared pain- but is it worth it? When the future is not set in stone, only the past, and- Ansem cannot help but think of another way as the Xehanort's eyes close, and dawning horror momentarily steals his breath.

"Xehanort."

There was no lie on the platform; Xehanort was fully willing to stay behind. To spare them the pain of his simple presence, even if he was, by all rights? Innocent. He was not their Xehanort of memories, who had transgressed against them so, and who was to say that being warned would not have been enough?

It's then that Ansem realizes he is trembling. He pulls his hand back, looking down at it, then at the now-still body of his Apprentice. A strangled sound escapes his throat before he stumbles to his feet, not to run, no, but there might be-

-there could be-

There's no panel in this carriage. Hating himself for leaving for even a moment, he nonetheless speeds out to the next carriage over, slapping the ICP on the wall to activate it. And though he tries to keep his voice steady, an undertone leaks through as he speaks. "Even- I need you in the quiet carriage."

Edited 2021-06-09 01:27 (UTC)

Fortunately, Even is not prone to blocking out the noises of the train, specifically because he never knows when something on the ICP is going to be worth listening to. He's not expecting to hear his name, let alone the name that only one person on the train really uses. And that undertone...he's not sure what's happening, but something is clearly wrong.

There's no warning, before a dark corridor abruptly appears in the hallway, fading as quickly as it appeared and leaving Even standing there. He can see...a painful, but not hostile, darkness coiled around his king's heart, and behind him...is that Xehanort? But his heart is fading, at a speed that he realizes with a jolt is alarming. He should find it a relief, and yet...

"What is going on here?"

His words come out as a harsh hiss, but not out of anger. Ansem will recognize the note of urgency in his voice, the fear driving him to take stock of the situation and search for a solution...even if it means making demands of his liege.

Ansem's hardly back at the doorway to the room before Even appears, and even if Even couldn't see his Heart? The fact Ansem actually startles would say something, eyes wide before he composes himself. Nonetheless, there is a distress about him, and he looks back at Xehanort before looking back at his Apprentice, mouth dry for a second. How could he admit to this?...

Tell them I attacked you.

No. No, he would not lie, not to Even, not to anyone else. Swallowing, he manages to rasp, "I need your help. It's- sleeping nightshade. An overdose. My doing." Responsibility taken, he straightens to look Even in the eyes. "I need an antidote."

He knows Even could disagree, and there is nothing he could do to force him short of trying to order him. And while Xehanort has shown that at least one Apprentice would follow his words, Even is...different. Both in nature, and in history. It is a very real possibility that he will be denied, and he allows a trace of desperation to crack through.

"Please, Even. I have made a mistake, and I must fix it."

There's the barest moment of conflict in his heart. Then, almost sooner than Ansem finishes speaking, he's rushing into the room. If that means pushing past Ansem, he'll do so, although he'll be noticeably gentler about it than he would be with most.

A moment of concentration and a flick of his wrist causes the white strands of life magic to coil around Xehanort, fading into him to provide a buffer. It won't clear the poison, but it will buy them time. Then he's pulling a wooden briefcase from nowhere in a cloud of dark and cold mist, which he opens to reveal a compact chemistry kit. His motions are quick and efficient as he sets up what he'll need, including an agate mortar and pestle and some medicinal herbs from the greenhouse.

"Do you recall the recipe for an alchemical antidote?"

Relief practically radiates from Ansem's posture as Even pushes past and casts his spell, even as a whisper points out Even is simply following his words- just as Xehanort had. Swallowing down the bile that rises in his throat at the thought, he focuses on the question, moving over to offer what help he can.

"No. And I'm not clearheaded at the moment enough to try and remember." An admission of clouded judgement, as well as an unspoken acceptance of Even's temporary authority. "I recall how the herb works, at least," with how it effects the body and such. Which he'll share, but otherwise try and stay out of Even's way unless bid to assist.

He waves his hand and conjures another item from storage, a book titled in the familiar alphabet of Radiant Garden, 'Household Alchemy Basics'. He quickly flips to the page on treating status conditions and puts the book down on the table.

"My spell will restore him partially if his body perishes, but we still have little time. Help me prepare the necessary ingredients."

A soft 'mm' of acknowledgement/agreement, and for a few minutes, Ansem is silent. The only sound is them working and his unsteady breathing, which hitches when he briefly glances towards Xehanort. So still, such shallow breaths of his own...

"He took it," he whispers without realizing it. "I put it before him, and he took it, without protest."

Horror? Wonder? For as quiet as Ansem's voice is, it is filled with many things. And-

"-and was that Life magic, you cast upon him? When..." Even Ansem doesn't know that spell.

Edited 2021-06-09 02:27 (UTC)

As the minutes tick by, he finds himself glancing fretfully at Xehanort every time he doesn't need to keep his eyes glued to his work. They are in a hurry, yes, but alchemy cannot be rushed. Try to quicken the process, and you're more likely to just burn and ruin your ingredients.

"Auto-Life, yes. It seemed...prudent, to improve my restorative magics, given life within the Organization. It turns out I have a minor secondary talent for Life spells in particular, possibly due to my skills in biochemistry."

It seems, for a moment, that he's not going to addresse the rest of what Ansem said. Then, attention still fixed alternately on his heating brew and his patient, he asks, "Why did he take such a thing? Surely he must know its effects."

He'll have to marvel later. For now, he has to make sure their work is flawless; for Xehanort's sake, he will not make another mistake in this matter. As for the question...

He barks a short, bitter laugh.

"Of course he did- I even told him as much. After explaining to him what we had suffered by his hands. What worlds had suffered. Even, I...I may as well have poured it down his throat, myself."

"My lord." His words are firm, in a perhaps poetic reversal of their positions the last time they spoke in one of these rooms. "The Xehanort we recall would not have cared about such things. He would...certainly not have given his life for them. This man before us...he is not what we expected him to be, and neither of us could have been certain of that fact before this."

The color of the potion finally changes, and he removes it from the flameless heat. The barest hint of ice magic applied to the air helps to cool it down, and he draws it into a dropper for easier administering to their unconscious patient.

The firmness catches his attention, at least, and he regards Even for a long moment before he lets out a heavy breath. "Nonetheless - I have wronged him. I cannot even pretend this was a test of his character, for I...fully intended on this happening. Short of your presence," he amends, closing his eyes.

But. Work done, he focuses on cleaning up and allowing Even to administer the dropper. There's still a subtle tremble in his shoulders, an unsteadiness for all he's holding on to his composure.

"We...both have. If you will recall, you are not the first to have made an attempt upon his life."

And this is far kinder than what Even had tried to do to him. The needles of ice he'd sent at him would have been quickly fatal, but not at all painlessly.

He delivers the antidote, then lets out a breath. His Auto-Life hasn't discharged, so they should be in the clear, even if it's going to take some time for the normal sedative effect to wear off.

"He will be groggy upon waking, but there is little we can do about that with the materials at hand."

"Perhaps not- but I am not his peer, as you are." A reminder that Ansem, for all Even has taken the lead here, is still in a position of power above his both. And he, quite frankly? Abused that. What must Even think of him...?

Again, a twisting inside. Again, shoving it away, at least for now. And once again, a short, humorless sound.

"I would say we should take him from here- but I do not want to answer any questions as to his state. Even- he said that I should claim that he attacked me, for this. That I had only acted in self defense."

He runs a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, beginning to lose that struggle to hold on to his composure.

"Xehanort- slandered my name, and yet this one- he would have spared it, he-" It seems even the Wise can near hysteria. "What have I done, Even...?"

"What you thought best, for the denizens of his Radiant Garden."

He can, at least, make this space a more comfortable one to sleep in. A small portal of darkness brings a pillow and blanket from his room, and he shifts Xehanort to be laying down properly. He takes the opportunity to check the man's pulse - weak, slow, but there. A glance at his SCA confirms that its screen has changed from red to its normal color, signifying that his life is no longer in danger.

That done, he straightens and turns to rest a hand on Ansem's shoulder.

"No one is incapable of mistakes, and he who holds himself to such standards is either arrogant, or weak of confidence. You made a mistake, yet you also acted in urgency to fix it. Is that not what you have told me matters most?"

Ansem seems more-or-less...well. Out of it. Until Even takes back his attention with the touch. He looks down in surprise, then back up, speechless for the words before forcing himself to consider them. He had, and...

...was this how Even felt, at times? As though he'd committed such a crime that the thought of forgiveness from the one wronged was nigh-unthinkable?

He takes a deep breath, lowering his gaze, and, after a moment-

"You're right. I...no. You are right."

He could not take back what he had done. But...he could move forwards. They could move forwards. Even so, it aches at him that he is capable of such a thing, and with his head bowed, he reaches up to rest his own hand atop Even's.

"...will you speak with him, when he awakens? He should...know of the situation, but I do not think it wise for me to be the one to explain."

At one time, it would have shocked him to see his king in such a helpless and vulnerable state, let alone to hear of the actions that led to it. But things have changed, and all of their hearts have been darkened by the pain of betrayal. Now, the only thing in his eyes is understanding, as he gives a slight nod in response.

"I will tell him. I owe him an apology, regardless. I acted with a rashness unbefitting of my position as his senior. For now, however...he is in need of rest. To wake him early would only cause him more discomfort."

"You...very well. At least the plant offers dreamless sleep." No nightmares, no memories. Ansem squeezes Even's hand once before lowering his own.

And, quietly?

"Thank you, Even."

He gives Ansem's shoulder a squeeze in turn before pulling his own hand back.

"It is no less than you would do, have done, for me."

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[CLOSED] how could I ever think it's funny

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