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The man turns around to an empty audience and laughs self-deprecatingly.
He should have expected this. He's always been alone, hasn't he? Why would it be any different this time around? (The angel on his shoulder tries to appeal and justify that there's always a small chance that Veritas would have stayed, and he's a betting man. But its wings are broken and bloodied with too many false hopes that its words bring a tone too hollow; it can't believe its own words either.)
Aventurine stares at the bathtub in the room. Such a sickeningly innocent sight, full of pure joy and wonders that would find no complains from any kids allergic to showers.
He allows himself to wonder if he'd have been one of those kids if his fate hadn't been so abruptly torn away at the seams. But all that stares back at him are burning homes and dead hands that would never hold him again, and so he ignores the screams as he steps into the tub and sinks down into the pool.
He thinks about incidents thus far. The Nameless. The Family. The Duke. That... ranger.
And Veritas.
He's so exhausted, but what can he do but continue to be a thrall? He breathes in deeply as he attempts to focus on the dreamscape that he has to go to while disgustingly soft bubbles surround and gently caresses his mind.
He briefly wonders too if the memory bubbles would allow him to meet his family again, and he realizes too mutely as the sedatives start to set in that he doesn't remember how they look like anymore.
--
This is new.
He's supposed to be at the lobby. The room looks the same, but no details can ever hope to escape his gaze groomed by the IPC for his sole purpose as their pawn.
Was it because of his fleeting thoughts that skewered his destination?
He allows himself to sigh. A moment of weakness. And if it's indeed what he thinks it is...
He masks his caution as he casually (a façade) steps out of the room. The hallways look the same, almost. But there's a curious little crack in the wall with all visible doors shining an ominous red, and he hasn't survived so long by poking his head into clear signs of danger so graciously warned, so he stands before the rift and inspects it.
It's nothing out of the ordinary, but the most mundane plays are always the winning hand.
And he always knows the cards being played.
"What a curious predicament we seem to have found ourselves in." Aventurine keeps his eyes on the wall as he talks to himself, waiting patiently for the man behind him to finally deign him with a sentence.
"A waste of breath. We both know what this situation is." Veritas' disinterested tone would have killed his heart a few amber eras over if he wasn't already so used to receiving such words since he was forced to become a tool.
Aventurine chuckles (another façade) and shrugs. "Cut me some slack, Doctor. We both know that this is mine, can't a guy simply have some dramatics before the curtains get lifted?"
Oddly, Veritas stays silent. No, it wasn't strange for the erudite to save his energy should a question offend his very purpose for existing, but something in the air feels off.
Aventurine turns around and blinks.
The Doctor looked turmoiled, an expression too unbefitting for someone of his status; a blemish in his prestigious physique. He's looking at Aventurine with a curious gaze he can't pin an emotion on, so he wields his natural defense and smiles instead.
Veritas continues to observe him, and he preserves under the intense scrutiny—
And there's a sudden burst of heat behind him, too scorching and all too familiar and he's unable to contain his flinch as he staggers away and clutches his hand that's been burnt in this phantasmagoria, and he laughs frantically as he realizes what he's feeling.
Fear.
How unbefitting of himself.
But no, not now, not here not in front of him, keep it together, keep it t—
He feels a strong tug on his arm and flinches again as he's pulled into fire and he stops breathing, can't breathe, the smoke, the chains, mother and father and my dear little sister, I'm sorry—
"You're safe here. Breathe."
Aventurine shudders as his broken mind finally registers the embrace he's in. He focuses on the warm hand patting his head and times his breathing with the hypnotic rhythm.
They stay like that for a long while, but they both know that they can't waste anymore time here lest the dreamscape enacting his mind becomes more and more unstable and broken, so Aventurine parts away first and smiles as if it were all just a hallucination, a small little prank the dreamscape's decided to pull on them whimsically, and Veritas makes no comments and waits.
Aventurine turns back to look at the wall. The crack has widened, its foundations eaten away, and he can see the same fire and sceneries forever lost beyond the hole.
He gently taps the wall; a butterfly's worth of wind that will escalate into his blazing perdition, the foundations shatters and crumbles, and he stands firm against the wave of torridness and barely manages to not flinch at an all too familiar sound of explosions and whirring machinery in the distance, simply tuning out the screams and pleas for mercy all ignored with practiced ease.
Veritas continues to stay silent, taking in the pitiful sight before him, and Aventurine takes an ironical bow and presents the scene with a dramatical flourish.
"Welcome to Sigonia-IV, though I do have to apologize in advance for any unintended discrepancy between my memories and the real thing."
Veritas does not reply, his gaze focused solely on picking out every minuscule betrayal of twitches that Aventurine's muscles and expressions would sell him out for.
Years ago, Aventurine would have faltered and crumbled under his gaze. But what is Preservation if not for withstanding everything no matter how much he wants to scream?
Aventurine smiles. "Still staying quiet, dear Doctor? I don't need nor want your pity, it's all in the past, and I'm still here, aren't I?"
"You're oddly calm about me witnessing your trauma."
He laughs and waves his hands dismissively. "What can I do about it? It's not like we'll remember this when we finally leave this place, so it doesn't matter." He winks. "You're always welcomed to see all my cards and secrets in my hands." But it's not like you trust me, so what does it matter?
Veritas rolls his eyes. "How flattering."
And yet, Aventurine feels the same gaze on his being. He thinks it's pity indeed, and he decides he hates it. But he's survived so far by enduring everything thrown his way, so he keeps quiet and continues to preserve as he finally steps into the heat.
--
They walk through the broken world, with Aventurine making comments and remarks about his home long gone with occasional whistles should they come across some sort of vaguely recognizable landmark that he miraculously still remembers to fill in the silence that Veritas refuses to contribute to.
But it's fine. Aventurine will survive regardless. He has to.
They make no comments on the blurred faces on bodies either running past them or strewn on the ground; people long forgotten with no one left to remember their existence. Ignores the static voices that screams out silently for help before disappearing forever in the endless sea of flames.
They ignore the rattling of bullets and chains as the IPC agents scout the burning land for any suitable still living and mostly intact assets.
It's quite unnerving to have Veritas stay silent for so long, so he decides to twist the narrative in his mind into an accomplishment that he's managed to have the Doctor follow him without complains nor disappearing in record time. A fun little mechanism he had to develop to prevent his mind from collapsing.
Aventurine doesn't know where they're meant to go to leave this dreamscape. But he knows that fate is always laughing and taunting him, so he takes the bait and continues strolling leisurely.
And indeed.
They come to a stop at an intact house. So colourful and bright in contrast to the dull and dead environment around them. He knows that it won't be for long.
Aventurine stands before the door and knocks. Once, twice, and he lowers his hand as the door opens on the third beat to be.
He hears Veritas take a sharp inhale, and all he can do to stop himself from breaking apart is chuckle like he's always had to.
A faceless woman filled with bleeding holes greets him in cheerful garbled words that he can no longer hear. Beside her stands a featureless man with organs leaking out of the cavity in his chest none the wiser, watching the scene passively, and Aventurine has long since accepted that he will never hear the man speak ever again, body long since rotted into the dying earth.
Behind the lady, he sees a young disfigured girl and himself (with such an intricately crafted collar chained around his neck, adorned with green quartz mocking his name long lost) staring curiously at the two visitors with wide and such innocent eyes.
"So sorry to have disturbed you, fair ladies and gentlemen both." He starts, smiling emotionlessly as he bows. "Would any of you happen to have come across a coin that looks like this?" He flicks his palm and a golden coin seemingly blinks into existence.
The lady tilts her head and inspects the coin, before turning to ask the man. "▇▇▇ th▇ I ▇ve... h▇▇ ▇▇ou▇ yo▇, ▇▇▇▇?"
The man shakes his head, seemingly uncaring that his skin melts off from the movement and splatters on the floor, and the lady bows apologetically, blood freely spilling out and staining the tiles.
This time, it's Veritas that flinches at the sound, and Aventurine merely continues smiling.
"No worries, thank you for taking your time to answer me." And he steps into the house.
The peaceful family seems unfazed as they resume their scripted play in this nightmare of his, and Aventurine beckons for Veritas who's simply standing still like one of his many imitations of statues to continue following him.
"What, too respectfully now to barge into a home uninvited?" He teases the erudite. "I'd have expected you to relish at this pristine opportunity to mock and berate me."
Veritas holds his gaze before sighing.
"I do not hate nor disdain you."
The gambler laughs.
"And I never pegged you to be one who jokes around. Let's not waste any more time, Doctor. If this dreamscape is indeed my doing, then they'll be here soon— ah, there they are."
And a shout rings out as IPC agents surround the cage. Both of them watch wordlessly as the dollhouse starts to fall apart, the bullets and fire and death, and poor Aventurine, just a broken little child too unfortunate to be born on this planet, is chained up and dragged away harshly, to be branded an asset and groomed to become the perfect tool to suit their every need.
"Come now, Doctor—"
"How can you stay so calm?" Veritas interjects, and Aventurine shrugs.
"Like I've said, what could I have done? It was the hand that fate decided to deal to me. I could only play by the rules."
The Doctor stays quiet. But his fists are clenched tightly and there's visible anger radiating off his perfect body, and Aventurine almost forgets how to breathe again.
Why is he angry? For someone like him?
"This isn't... this..." Veritas begins and fails to find words that can accurately paint how he's feeling. (Aventurine feels another weird sense of accomplishment: to have made the proud Doctor so speechless.)
And dear Doctor Veritas Ratio is staring at Aventurine with such raw distraught and sadness, and Aventurine refuses to contemplate what such an expression means so he does what he does best instead.
He smiles.
Veritas does not take it well.
"How can you still... smile.. like that? After all these..."
"It's the only way I could have survived."
"Stop it."
Aventurine blinks, caught off guard despite everything.
"Pardon?"
And Veritas finally steps into the broken house and faces Aventurine's very soul.
"Stop making excuses to belittle yourself."
He takes one of Aventurine's hands and holds it against his chest. Right before his heart.
"I, Veritas Ratio, do not hate the man standing before me. You are one of the most brilliant minds I've ever had the chance to come across in this vast galaxy. Despite everything that fate had chosen for you, you've always came out on top."
And Veritas brings the hand towards his mouth, and Aventurine forgets everything around them as he feels the warmth of Veritas' lips grace his undeserving hand.
"I apologize for any unintended hurt my words from before have brought. I sincerely did not mean to offend."
"... It's fine, you didn't know."
Veritas shakes his head and pulls Aventurine into another embrace, who flinches at the sudden movement but makes no moves to back away, the fight and energy all immediately drained by the physical contact that he didn’t realize he was so desperate and hungry for. "No, even if so, it does not excuse what I've said so offhandedly."
"... And why are you hugging me?"
"You looked like you needed it."
And Aventurine can't even muster the strength to fake a smile anymore, so he pushes the voice that screams at him of punishments and torture for failing to keep up his mask to the back of his mind, allows himself to be selfish this once and melts into Veritas' toned arms.
It's his turn to stay silent now, simply existing without having to worry about how to continue living, breathing in the calm scent of soothing flowers and fresh pines. No smoke or fires or chains or torture to invade his senses.
It feels so safe in Veritas' arms.
"... I apologize for leaving so abruptly during our conversation as well." And Aventurine merely hums out some sort of reply to let the Doctor know he's listening. "I had to hurry to be able to find your cornerstone before it left Penacony forever."
Aventurine feels something shoved into his pockets. And he feels... strange.
Why was Veritas willing to go so far... for him? He's merely a tool, an asset and slave for the IPC, he's never had any sort of autonomy since he was chained and taken away. Despite his position now, he knows it's merely a show and it'll all be taken away with a snap of fingers should his superiors lose interest in the way he obtains results.
It's why they've branded him in such an obvious location for all to see, after all. But he's learnt to wield it as a weapon, proudly displaying that he can't be broken by any means they can ever hope to come up with. (Because he's long since been broken. And fire can't burn twice.)
Aventurine stays quiet, before finally pulling away and laughing.
"You're really cruel, Veritas."
And Veritas can only stare at him with such sadness that he forces himself to ignore.
"Let's go now, Doctor."
"Aventurine." He shudders internally as Veritas calls his name. But the Doctor shakes his head. "No, that's not your name. What's your real name, if you..."
"Still remember?" Aventurine gives a self-deprecating smile, and that's all Veritas needs to know, and his eyes are lit with such fury that Aventurine still can't understand, so he closes his own eyes.
"Don't."
He can feel Veritas' gaze on him and it has never felt so heavy. But it's fine, all he has to do is to endure it until they find the exit. And then it'll all go back to normalcy.
"I've made it this far on my own. I can manage. I'll continue surviving. They can't break me."
"..."
Aventurine opens his eyes and stares at Veritas with resignation. They both know neither of them will remember this conversation soon after they find the exit. And he knows Veritas hates wasting his breath on the obvious, so he resumes the search.
--
There's just silence between both of them as they continue to walk through the house, the layout twisted beyond all recognition, most likely to blame on his failing memories of his past that the IPC worked so diligently to erase.
But he can feel it, the pulling of awakeness just down the corners. And so they find themselves standing before a blue glowing door.
It looks so innocuous. Whispers of promises and sweet dreams tempt his want to ditch this nightmare, but he's hesitating to step through his pearly gates.
What now?
He needs to wake up to continue his schemes, needs to worm his ways further into the Family to fill up the large hole of distrust towards the IPC due to past transgressions. Needs to ensure the cards the Fools play will benefit them. Needs to investigate that space ranger. Needs to instigate the Nameless to his benefits.
All he has to do is simply push the door open and step through.
But if he leaves, he won't remember this encounter. The tender moments shared between a man too broken and a man crafted from perfection will never have existed; laws of nature finally returning to normal.
He thinks back to their embrace. So warm and comfortable and oh so safe, and he thinks back to being a slave for the IPC yet again.
He thinks about the luxury of not having to exhaust himself by keeping up a façade whenever he converses with the man, and he thinks about having to smile against loaded guns aimed true to his heart hammering wildly.
And he thinks about waking up next to Veritas every day, having fallen asleep peacefully and unscathed between those cozy arms the day before.
And Aventurine laughs hollowly.
There's really no other choice he can make. This is merely a dream; a nightmare of his own mind.
How cruel indeed.
Veritas stares at the door but makes no move, and Aventurine wonders if he's evaluating his prior actions or assessing what he knows of his past now, so Aventurine does it for him.
He pulls Veritas towards him who jolts slightly from the sudden movement, train of thought so precipitously interrupted, and he reaches for the Doctor's head and aligns it perfectly against his own.
There's no sudden bursts of emotions, no fireworks in the skies, no splash of colours painting the environment, because Aventurine knows this is merely a stolen moment that will forever be erased a second later, and neither of them are followers of the Remembrance.
Veritas is rigid, too shocked to process what just happened, and Aventurine takes that chance to shove him towards the exit, out of the dreamscape and back into the waking world where the man known as Veritas Ratio will surely despise him once again, views no longer blurred with biases and pity.
Aventurine turns around and looks at his nightmare one final time, and he smiles as he takes a well practiced dramatic bow and waves goodbye to his rotting ghosts as he exits stage left.
--
Aeons. He badly needs a drink. He thinks he can down at least ten whole shots of the strongest alcohol they have here and pass out into the next amber era.
Acquainting with the Masked Fools was one of the singular most exhausting task he has ever done, and he couldn't even rest before having to perform his next act with the Nameless. (And Black Swan was observing him so curiously with a knowing smile, as if she's peering straight into his very secrets that he doesn't even existed. He does not linger on that thought because he'd be wasting his energy that doesn't exist, so he's just glad it's finally over. For now.)
A saving grace being that at least one of his major headache was miraculously resolved. He'd woken up in the Golden Hour and felt a strange weight in his pocket, and just like that, his death sentence had been lifted.
He had no idea how it came to be there, and a nature most intriguing whenever he looks at the gem: he feels... sad.
The cornerstone makes his heart miserable, like he's forgotten something dear to his soul that's yearning in anguish (for what?), so as usual with all the problems he doesn't wish to deal with, he keeps it out of his sight and mind, pushing it away for the future him to deal with.
So now he's playing the waiting game, and he relishes this rare opportunity to wind down and relax before the curtain eventually rises again.
He thinks he could go into the Golden Hour again to gamble without his life at stake this time, simply enjoying the leisurely activity without having to calculate profits and losses, and he's so absorbed in planning his day that he jumps when the door slams open.
Veritas is standing at the entrance. And despite the plaster head being kindly out of sight and priding himself in being able to read others (another neat little trick he was forced to learn to survive), Aventurine can't make out what kind of emotion the Doctor is expressing means.
He looks displeased. But there's conflict burning in his eyes, and Aventurine thinks it's a sign that he's too exhausted when he (presumably) sees sorrow and a hint of warmth seemingly directed at him.
Alas, it still doesn't answer why Veritas decided to show up in his room again after disappearing from their previous conversation, supposedly on his merry way to report his misdoings and failures to his superiors.
Aventurine does not tilt his head. The smile will never leave his face again, guard no longer affordable to be lowered now that he has astute confirmation that Veritas indeed despises him.
He simply smiles and waits for Veritas to do his little song and dance, a parade to mock his upbringing and intelligence, then surely he'll be back on his way to the IPC.
And yet, Veritas' frown seems to deepen in response to his smile, and Aventurine hallucinates briefly of sadness that stains the corner of those lips.
It seems that dear Veritas might have forgotten the character he's supposed to be playing, so Aventurine does it for him.
"What's the matter, Doctor? So unlike you to forsake this wonderful chance to denounce my idiocy to the world. Hurry along now, before it slips out of your fingers before your eyes."
And there's a flash of pain and regret in the way Veritas breaks the tension between their eyes and bites his own lip, and Aventurine is rooted to the spot, strange fear crawling on and grasping at his nerves because who is this? reverberates repeatedly in his scarred mind but all he can do is continue to smile.
Veritas Ratio is perfection made flesh. He does not make mistakes, has no use for emotions that only leads humanity to foolish decisions. Regret has no place in his dictionary because it would have meant that Veritas had failed in his calculations, and he does not fail.
Who are you? Aventurine wants to scream ask, wants to run back away from this blanket of fear and foreboding that's lacing the air with poison. But chess pieces can't move on their own, and he's nothing but a pawn.
He sees Veritas finally open his mouth. He sees the syllables for his name forming. But Veritas stops and shakes his head. Instead,
"▇▇▇▇▇▇"
And Aventurine feels weak. He's panicking. No, no no no, that version of Him does not exist anymore. The IPC's made sure to erase it forever. He's simply Aventurine now, nothing more, will never be anything more.
So how did Veritas... ah, is he here to enact the sentence regardless?
Aventurine's always smiled at the face of death, and he doesn't bother changing his modus operandi even as his end steps closer and closer, doesn't flinch even when he's pulled into the abyss.
He ignores how warm and familiar the arms around him feel (it feels so right, like slotting in the final puzzle piece that's been missing his entire life), simply closes his eyes and awaits the eventual knife in his back, and he finds himself strangely at peace that it's Veritas that's carrying out the judgement.
But it never comes.
Instead, a different kind of blade cuts his heart and he's thrown so far off balance.
Doctor Veritas Ratio is apologizing.
To him.
But why? What kind of trick is he playing? What is he aiming to achieve with this sickening imitation of a hug and apologies slobbered with sweet nothings?
And at a distance this non-existing, he can feel Veritas trembling. No, this can't be him. Is this that Fool's doing? Is this her?
Aventurine slowly reaches for his cornerstone, IPC rules be damned, he'll just accept whatever judgment they'll dish out if they haven't already decided to execute him, but the same unknown fear and strange sadness from before stops his body in place, so he keeps his cool instead (as much as he can) and snakes his hand towards the pistol tucked away in an unseeming pocket.
"▇▇▇▇▇▇", Veritas once again sounds out his expired past that has perished since that unfateful day, and he can't stop his own mask from cracking under the intense fear and paranoid uncertainty anymore.
"Shut up!" Aventurine pulls away like he's been burnt, like Veritas were that same agent that had whisked him away that day into his personal purgatory.
"He no longer exists. I don't know where you learnt that name from, but that man has been long dead." He only barely manages to stop himself from snarling, composure worn and eroded away from this insanity unfolding wildly before him.
Veritas closes his eyes and breathes in, as if mentally preparing himself to enter a war-zone that Aventurine isn't sure who's the enemy anymore.
"And so I present unto you the same question thus: do you trust me?"
Aventurine sneers.
"That depends on you."
And he falters under the gaze full of conviction Veritas sends his way when those piercing amber eyes are unveiled to the world once more.
"I trust you, Aventurine."
And what can he say to that? He has no cards left in his hands to play; a cornered dog that's long given up trying to intimidate with hoarse barks lest it hurts itself even more.
Veritas makes no comments on his silence as he extends an intricate tarot card his way, one that looks suspiciously like what Black Swan plays with.
The same question, unvoiced.
Do you trust me?
A Wheel of Fortune sits in his hand. A mere tarot card has no business radiating such ominous dread, but Aventurine feels like he's staring at his own personal Pandora's box.
Does he?
Desperation claws at his throat. Feelings he's long since buried to survive manipulates the tattered strings on his arm; the want to be understood, to be saved.
A nine year old crying in the darkness for salvation in front of his ghosts that would never answer him ever again.
He reaches out and touches the card.
It starts with a glistening flash. The card disintegrates into bright feathers that burns around him. A single peacock plume remained miraculously unscathed as it lands on his head before gently fading away.
And he remembers.
The memories flood his senses, and he's overwhelmed by everything.
The ominous hallways.
The crack in the wall.
The oncoming heat.
His dear family.
The soothing embraces.
And briefest of lips interlocking.
And if not for Veritas moving in to stabilize him in his arms he doesn't think he'd still be conscious from the sheer rush of emotions invading his mind.
Aventurine stays limp in Veritas' hold as adrenaline rushes into his body. He's scared, terrified and paranoid of the implications, of Veritas knowing about his very being and weakness, of him remembering his repressed past so clearly again, and he feels so vulnerable and open; the cornerstone in his pocket has never felt so heavy and petrifying.
But the gentle caress on his head chases away his fear, the rhythmic breaths Veritas exhales calms his senses, and the warm arms around him—
It feels safe.
And he thinks...
"... I trust you too, Veritas."
And they stay in each other's warmth, a lifeline being extended, with Veritas liberating the child from the chains and darkness around his heart.
--
There's a man walking with a singular purpose down the hallway, and nothing can ever hope to stop him from his mission.
The man feels as though something is torn and lost from his heart, a missing link erased and forgotten, and he has an inkling feeling of the reason why when he realizes the stone in his grasp that he so painstakingly retrieved with detrimental promises and sacrifices on his part has unwittingly disappeared.
The man thinks back to his previous conversation.
He sincerely hadn't meant to cause distress. He had only wished for the other party to understand the severity of the situation that they've been forced into, and he wonders briefly if he's the cause of this missing and unexplained sorrow that's writhing his heart; the source of a repressed nightmare relived.
No.
He has to remember.
The man's instincts are clawing at his physique, urging him to hurry. He knows that an unmendable rift will forever divide and drift them apart should he not pursue his hypothesis, and he finds himself unable to accept that kind of world.
Despite his brash behaviour and personality, he is not a man without empathy.
He has to remember.
The man finds the woman he's been looking for who merely smiles knowingly and hands him two cards with whispers of good luck, and he had scoffed as he stared at the Star in his hand twinkling with answers.
He doesn't need luck.
He knows he'll make it into a reality.
--
Aventurine wakes up to heat and freezes.
He wants to scream, but the instincts forcibly instilled into his soul forces him to smile while his fragmented mind desperately tries to analyze the situation.
He definitely does not yelp when arms enclose around him and gently pats him like a startled doe.
Veritas makes no comments, simply fueling him with quiet warmth while waiting for him to calm down, and Aventurine definitely does not cry in the comforting embrace.
It's so safe in this fire.
--
You're not a tool, not an asset. Not a slave. You're a person. A human. You're Kakavasha, the most brilliant soul to have ever survived and lived. They will come to regret what they've done to you.
This, I swear to you.