a re-watch brought him out

[aquill]

What in God's name could have possessed you to do this? It's a sort of freedom, at least from stone walls, but it's hardly one I deserve. I'm not certain what you intend, but I do know that I likely want nothing to do with it.

Let me write. I owe them that.

Comments

SDFKLJSDFILSJDCDL

[impure_tale]

...Abbe?

h-hi /////

[aquill]

[ the grief on his face is terrible. he can hardly bear it. ]

What sort of trick is this? You're not here, Marquis, and I am not mad.

[impure_tale]

[And there is so much about the Marquis that might only further suggest the Abbe is seeing things. He's dressed well, his clothing unfrayed. He seems younger even, but so in control of his surroundings -- and not in the same way that he is when he can cow his opponents with flirtation and dirty words.]

No tricks, cherub, but I am here, in part thanks to you.

[aquill]

[ he scrubs his hands back through his hair, fingers gripping for the slight pain it affords him. wake up. this can't possibly be real, or if it is--

a laugh, short and sharp, bitter on his tongue. ]

A spirit, then. It only seems right, after what I did. After-- everything.

[impure_tale]

You had only the noblest intentions.

[Said with such certainty. He doesn't even have the same bearing as before. It's almost more akin to the Doctor's, when he had seemed so benign at first.]

Though the apology is appreciated.

[All right, perhaps not all of his smug old self is gone.]

[aquill]

I gave in. To anger, to fear, though I knew--

[ he cuts himself off with a shuddering breath, shaking his head. the comment earns a brief, dry laugh. ]

.. It's truly you? [ he lifts his gaze again, searching the other man's. ] You.. hardly appear to be the same man at all.

[impure_tale]

I should hope not. [He raises an eyebrow] Needless as your cries to the heavens often are, something heard you in my passing. [He does a little turn at that.] So marvel at your handiwork, dumpling, and don't pull at yourself so.

[aquill]

They're not-- [ needless. but they do certainly seem to be at times. just.. just not this time, it seems. god had given the marquis a second chance, and something inside the younger man cracks, falls away.

he manages a small, breathless little laugh, hands falling away at his sides. ] I did pray. So often and at such length, I imagine God must have simply grown weary of listening to them. I am.. I am very glad to see you, Marquis.

[impure_tale]

There is no God to hear or mishear, Abbe. Something still, but not God.

[His atheism is a stubborn, insistent sort to maintain itself even in the face of his own redemption and seeming resurrection. But the Abbe doesn't know the half of it. Especially when he's said just as much, if not more, to the faces to professed angels. A little smile.]

I'm most pleased to see you as well. [Frown.] More's the pity that I find you in this state, at least half my doing.

[aquill]

[ a huff. ] You will deny Him still, even now? [ a brief pause, lips quirking, the expression fragile. ] Ah, but.. Abbe no longer. I'm certain it's apparent.

[ a rueful glance down at himself, then, dusting ineffectually at his ruined clothing. ]

Mostly my own. I would not be quieted, and now-- now, did you know? I am a danger to myself and to others. But I write. For your sake and hers.

[impure_tale]

[An uncomfortable look. There was an Abbe where he was once, briefly. Led, in fact, to his very first death aboard the Barge.]

I know.

[Often a man of many words it's always stilting, even to him, when he can only muster one or two.]

I always did say you had a touch of poet in you.

[aquill]

[ his next glance is embarrassed. ] There is nothing poetic about what I write. I leave it to better, or at least more gifted, men than I. It's simple truth, I hope.

[ he trails off, hugging his arms against himself as if cold. ]

Do you still write?

[impure_tale]

Naturally. I write of my experiences where I am now. Sometimes other stories, but I admittedly have a bad habit of forgetting to return to real life from time to time. So many years and it's still far too easy for me to turn to my stories when I'm not feeling by best. I made a habit of it long before I ever knew you, and I'm sure it will stay with me forever.

I tried to resist. I failed.

[umgekehrt]

There'll be writing aplenty if you find a home in one of the games. You needn't worry about that.

oh well alskjdf good

[aquill]

It's specific, monsieur, a specific tale that I must tell. And I cannot imagine why she would wish to place me in a.. game. I have had quite enough of games for one lifetime.

[umgekehrt]

They've got their advantages, games. To see old friends, though you've accomplished that-- and to have a change of scenery. Which if what I've hard is true, you could do with.

[aquill]

--The Marquis? It's enough to see him looking so well. As for scenery.. [ he trails off, faintly self-conscious despite himself. ] Well. I doubt I would be at my.. best there. [ if people are taken at their deaths or just before, after all, how long will he have been locked away..? ] I would not wish to be trouble.

[umgekehrt]

You're meant to be trouble, in the place I'm thinking. And he was thinking. It keeps us wardens on our toes; it's good for us.

Or would be if I were still aboard, my own mundane has her reasons. Miss the place, of course.

[aquill]

Meant to be, perhaps, but even so.. I should think he's had quite enough of me by now.

Do you indeed? Did you find the peace there that the Marquis has?

[umgekehrt]

Peace I didn't find. Good company and good friends I did. [A rasping cough. Stildyne's voice is as unlovely as his face, and he contrives to look innocent. He fails, largely.]

[aquill]

[ despite himself, his mouth quirks faintly. ]

Well, that's certainly nothing to dismiss, at least. I am relieved to know that you got something positive out of the experience, anyway.

[umgekehrt]

A good deal. I'll admit, I've heard of you second hand. That's why there's an interest. I'd like to see the Marquis' friends settled more comfortably.

[aquill]

Ah-- [ a startled blink. ] Have you? From the Marquis--?

[umgekehrt]

He mentioned you, once or twice. I don't approve of most of his associates back home on the whole. Difficult to really like that kind of medical barbarism. But one or two of you, as I heard, deserved better.

[aquill]

.. I wish that I could say that I am one of them, but I'm not. In the end, I was as cruel to him as the doctor.

[ he didn't know how to help him, and he'd been so afraid and so angry-- ]

I wanted to help him, but I-- I failed in that. Quite miserably, actually.