...I'm not certain. I haven't been as perceptive as I should have been...and you have always been something of a mystery. But I have still considered you as something of a friend, and I have felt that I understand you in certain ways others cannot.
[ Leaning onto one hand, the cushion dips slightly. ]
It has only been recently that I have learned to again allow myself the pleasure and pain of keeping friends. It is so very frightening, considering it involves a trust that isn't named, but...is to be accepted as an understanding. That sort of faith takes a boldness I once thought I should not be allowed, and yet at least one capability we all have gained while here is that of change.
And I had thought, perhaps I could see the same for your sake. Did I perceive you wrong, after all?
[Dorian has to think about that for a moment. Not long ago, he would have considered his wickedness a default state he was inexorably dragged to time and time again. It was a curse, for him to remain unchanging while his portrait learned all the lessons. Even if that were true, the portrait isn't here.
But if he's honest with himself, he knows it's simply weak will. For all Lord Henry's words seemed like wisdom long ago, that was what he truly preached. The man spoke with such savvy, but lacked the gumption to follow the lifestyle he taught to his disciple. Ethan was right. Dorian hasn't mastered his emotions--he just runs from them. He's always known it, on a level buried deep.
He can say he didn't think anyone would be out for Ethan to maul, but in truth, he didn't give a fuck about anyone getting hurt. Now, he cares that people got hurt. Like how he'd kindled the fire in Lily, only to put her down when she became too destructive. He'd stood by her on the path to world domination, but like Lord Henry, he didn't have the conviction to follow through. He is nearly as bad at being wicked as he is at being good.
Maybe somewhere in the middle, above where he is right now, he can find habits he can sustain. And once those are mastered, perhaps there will be a foothold to climb upward.]
...I want to hope for the same. I...do not want to give up on hope. Not ever.
[ To think about the catastrophe that nearly occurred is...numbing, after the last few days. Everyone acts so certain that they know what will happen when someone hurts, or kills, or dies. But in reality, the examples offered have been few, and all judgement is arbitrarily at the whim of an unknown being. Punishments can change. 'Gifts' can be taken away. 'Death' could snap them up at any moment, and there is no proof that true death won't keep them one day, wherever their true bodies are being kept. Has he not learned as much from recent discoveries? Has anyone here realized how their lives are more fragile than ever before?
Ethan might have killed Hob, a kind man and family to her beloved Morpheus; he could have killed Badou, dearest partner to Heine, who both have shaped part of what is becoming Vanessa's new family. ...And if Heine had killed Ethan? She could have lost them both to their own ruin.
She wouldn't have learned about Sembene's death, only hours before arriving here. — Dear, dear Sembene — Oh, she can't bear it. Vanessa can't lose any more family. She can't permit it, not from anyone. The thought chokes at her, and her whisper shudders while she stares down at Dorian with a strangely hollowed out grief behind the blue of her eyes. They carry echoes of pain and love from a time long hidden away—long before his time. ]
I would not be here now if not for Ethan's grace, did you know? His selflessness. And all that he has carried through his own pain. He is...special. I believe you've seen that.
[ He knew that, and still he risked what little bit of happiness Ethan had found for himself. Some people will never again look at Ethan the same.
If she had committed such a 'crime' for the sake of a boy she didn't know until coming here, what torture might she be willing to suffer through for Ethan's sake? In some ways, she can be limitless. ...And yet, she is simultaneously at the end of her rope. Dorian has been her friend, and she would defend him from harm just as her other friends. But he isn't like her other friends.
In every way imaginable, he knowingly endangered Ethan. He hurt Ethan. ]
I have had so little hope in life, and Ethan is one of the few to have gifted it to me. Ceaselessly. I...don't know what I would do...if that hope were to be taken from me.
[Dorian exhales through his nose and takes another sip.]
Probably something to put yourself back in that chair. [He's heard a great many more explicit threats. He's Dorian Gray, after all. He pisses a lot of people off. But just mentioning the chair has his heart rate increasing again, his muscles tensing, battling the relaxation that was beginning to creep in. He tosses back the rest of the tea, ignoring the burning of his mouth.] You needn't worry about that. It will not be any threat of vengeance from you which will stop me.
[He sets the cup down on the saucer, gaze landing vaguely on his own hands.]
Dorian's response doesn't surprise her. He's astute, and he's lived for a long time. Any immortal would be short-sighted to underestimate her wrath, but she isn't threatening violence against Dorian.
It can be worse. One can think they've suffered everything, but it can always be worse. With her terrible luck, immortality would have been true torment. She believes it is in some form for Dorian. And despite his confessions at the cafe, she believes that he cares enough to feel regret.
For as little as he's had, he should need no more. The potency makes it so that it would be unwise to drink all of the tea. It wouldn't be deadly, technically.
The effects should be felt any moment now, incredibly so, and she remains poised to sweep the cup away when his grip should weaken. ]
[Weaken it does. He has barely swallowed before he realizes he has made a mistake. The cup slips from his grasp as the world starts to spin. His head turns to look at her, pupils dilated, an exclamation on his lips that never makes it past his tongue.
At first, he feels betrayed, the face before him changed. Twisted into something he can't recognize. Then, he feels proud.
Because this is the kind of thing he would do, if he were in her shoes. Has done, when convenient.
But Angelique just felt betrayed as she choked to death, her pretty mouth opening for air that wouldn't come.
That's when he feels small.
So this is what it is to be on the other side of things. It's a sensation he never experienced before. Oh, he has tasted poisons before out of curiosity, but it's not about the symptoms. It's about being the fool. The one defeated before he knew there was a war.
Except he is still breathing, albeit more slowly. The usual poisoning symptoms aren't showing. The descent into sleep is alarmingly rapid, but perhaps...
It doesn't matter. He'll wake up either way. Hopefully.
He finds himself sinking to lie down on the couch, his eyes sliding shut.
It occurs to him just before the black takes him: it's not about whether or not they can wake up from death, is it? It never has been.]
[ A bit of it still spills, but only a few drops that scatter the couch cushion just before she steadies the saucer with her other hand. As he collapses, she watches him carefully, keeping an eye on his pattern of breathing while he rapidly fades.
The look that he passes to her is only mildly puzzling. ]
...Sleep well, Dorian.
[ She wonders if he can still see even before his eyes close. Vanessa has been drugged plenty of times, although not with this particular concoction. She picked it with purpose. It isn't poison.
But moderation is necessary. She hopes he has learned that lesson well.
After watching him for a moment longer, Vanessa will make certain that he's still breathing before she takes the cup back into the kitchen. Everything is cleaned and dried and put back as it was, with her 'tea' taken back with her, of course.
Vanessa will find a blanket to drape over him to keep him from catching any chill, but then she's gone, with barely any sign she was ever there. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Leaning onto one hand, the cushion dips slightly. ]
It has only been recently that I have learned to again allow myself the pleasure and pain of keeping friends. It is so very frightening, considering it involves a trust that isn't named, but...is to be accepted as an understanding. That sort of faith takes a boldness I once thought I should not be allowed, and yet at least one capability we all have gained while here is that of change.
And I had thought, perhaps I could see the same for your sake. Did I perceive you wrong, after all?
no subject
But if he's honest with himself, he knows it's simply weak will. For all Lord Henry's words seemed like wisdom long ago, that was what he truly preached. The man spoke with such savvy, but lacked the gumption to follow the lifestyle he taught to his disciple.
Ethan was right. Dorian hasn't mastered his emotions--he just runs from them. He's always known it, on a level buried deep.
He can say he didn't think anyone would be out for Ethan to maul, but in truth, he didn't give a fuck about anyone getting hurt. Now, he cares that people got hurt. Like how he'd kindled the fire in Lily, only to put her down when she became too destructive. He'd stood by her on the path to world domination, but like Lord Henry, he didn't have the conviction to follow through. He is nearly as bad at being wicked as he is at being good.
Maybe somewhere in the middle, above where he is right now, he can find habits he can sustain. And once those are mastered, perhaps there will be a foothold to climb upward.]
I truly hope not, [he says quietly.]
how did this word wall happen i'm so sorry
[ To think about the catastrophe that nearly occurred is...numbing, after the last few days. Everyone acts so certain that they know what will happen when someone hurts, or kills, or dies. But in reality, the examples offered have been few, and all judgement is arbitrarily at the whim of an unknown being. Punishments can change. 'Gifts' can be taken away. 'Death' could snap them up at any moment, and there is no proof that true death won't keep them one day, wherever their true bodies are being kept. Has he not learned as much from recent discoveries? Has anyone here realized how their lives are more fragile than ever before?
Ethan might have killed Hob, a kind man and family to her beloved Morpheus; he could have killed Badou, dearest partner to Heine, who both have shaped part of what is becoming Vanessa's new family. ...And if Heine had killed Ethan? She could have lost them both to their own ruin.
She wouldn't have learned about Sembene's death, only hours before arriving here. — Dear, dear Sembene — Oh, she can't bear it. Vanessa can't lose any more family. She can't permit it, not from anyone. The thought chokes at her, and her whisper shudders while she stares down at Dorian with a strangely hollowed out grief behind the blue of her eyes. They carry echoes of pain and love from a time long hidden away—long before his time. ]
I would not be here now if not for Ethan's grace, did you know? His selflessness. And all that he has carried through his own pain. He is...special. I believe you've seen that.
[ He knew that, and still he risked what little bit of happiness Ethan had found for himself. Some people will never again look at Ethan the same.
If she had committed such a 'crime' for the sake of a boy she didn't know until coming here, what torture might she be willing to suffer through for Ethan's sake? In some ways, she can be limitless. ...And yet, she is simultaneously at the end of her rope. Dorian has been her friend, and she would defend him from harm just as her other friends. But he isn't like her other friends.
In every way imaginable, he knowingly endangered Ethan. He hurt Ethan. ]
I have had so little hope in life, and Ethan is one of the few to have gifted it to me. Ceaselessly. I...don't know what I would do...if that hope were to be taken from me.
no subject
Probably something to put yourself back in that chair. [He's heard a great many more explicit threats. He's Dorian Gray, after all. He pisses a lot of people off. But just mentioning the chair has his heart rate increasing again, his muscles tensing, battling the relaxation that was beginning to creep in. He tosses back the rest of the tea, ignoring the burning of his mouth.] You needn't worry about that. It will not be any threat of vengeance from you which will stop me.
[He sets the cup down on the saucer, gaze landing vaguely on his own hands.]
It will be the look I saw in his eyes.
no subject
Dorian's response doesn't surprise her. He's astute, and he's lived for a long time. Any immortal would be short-sighted to underestimate her wrath, but she isn't threatening violence against Dorian.
It can be worse. One can think they've suffered everything, but it can always be worse. With her terrible luck, immortality would have been true torment. She believes it is in some form for Dorian. And despite his confessions at the cafe, she believes that he cares enough to feel regret.
For as little as he's had, he should need no more. The potency makes it so that it would be unwise to drink all of the tea. It wouldn't be deadly, technically.
The effects should be felt any moment now, incredibly so, and she remains poised to sweep the cup away when his grip should weaken. ]
no subject
At first, he feels betrayed, the face before him changed. Twisted into something he can't recognize. Then, he feels proud.
Because this is the kind of thing he would do, if he were in her shoes. Has done, when convenient.
But Angelique just felt betrayed as she choked to death, her pretty mouth opening for air that wouldn't come.
That's when he feels small.
So this is what it is to be on the other side of things. It's a sensation he never experienced before. Oh, he has tasted poisons before out of curiosity, but it's not about the symptoms. It's about being the fool. The one defeated before he knew there was a war.
Except he is still breathing, albeit more slowly. The usual poisoning symptoms aren't showing. The descent into sleep is alarmingly rapid, but perhaps...
It doesn't matter. He'll wake up either way. Hopefully.
He finds himself sinking to lie down on the couch, his eyes sliding shut.
It occurs to him just before the black takes him: it's not about whether or not they can wake up from death, is it? It never has been.]
no subject
The look that he passes to her is only mildly puzzling. ]
...Sleep well, Dorian.
[ She wonders if he can still see even before his eyes close. Vanessa has been drugged plenty of times, although not with this particular concoction. She picked it with purpose. It isn't poison.
But moderation is necessary. She hopes he has learned that lesson well.
After watching him for a moment longer, Vanessa will make certain that he's still breathing before she takes the cup back into the kitchen. Everything is cleaned and dried and put back as it was, with her 'tea' taken back with her, of course.
Vanessa will find a blanket to drape over him to keep him from catching any chill, but then she's gone, with barely any sign she was ever there. ]