< Okay. I think... I've narrowed it down to these three. Might have to be a bit tight with money if we go for the row house, but there'll be more personal space. But I think an apartment would be the best way to go. >
[Dante taps the end of their pen against the rim of their clock with a metallic tink for each strike as they look between the notebook in their hand and the clippings spread on the table nearby.
Searching for a way out of the Valentia and into some proper housing had turned out to be a bit more difficult than they'd expected, but luckily Gregor was willing to pitch in, turning what would have been a miserable experience separately into something that might work out into some small measure of comfort.
Certainly more than a hollowed out old car would provide.]
< What do you think? >
[They tear their gaze from the page to look over at the man in question, head cocking slightly to the side--and inadvertently putting the word "DEATH" more prominently on display.]
I think you're probably right. Not like either of us takes up a lot of space, eh?
[they don't have many belongings, they don't need the storage... they also don't need an excessive amount of space to themselves. hell, the room at the valentia would be enough for him if it weren't for his preference to be able to keep an eye out for his manager.
... and speaking of keeping an eye out. his gaze lands on the word there, brow furrowing a little.]
... you, uh, got a little something there, manager bud.
[Their gaze immediately returns to the notebook, the turn of their head serving to bring the word out of sight once more.]
< Oh, uh, yeah. Everyone's dealing with it these days. Guess you don't need to actually have a face in order for it to count. >
[They fiddle with the pen between their fingers. There's a stinging sensation where they know the word to be, somewhere that shouldn't be able to feel anything at all.]
< People haven't been giving you much trouble over yours, have they? >
[he says casually, as if he has not in fact been bullied over it by like three different people... it's fine. he'll just keep that to himself, he's more concerned for dante at the moment.]
Just didn't realize that was something that's been on your mind.
[they've proven, after all, that turning the clock still works here-- and that they're more capable of self defense with that soul of theirs.]
Hey, now, manager bud. We're the ones who're supposed to be cracking wise about dying...
[not really an admonition, but coming from gregor? that definitely means he's concerned about it after the reminder of that particular incident, brow furrowed over the rim of his glasses. the sinners may be used to dying, and dante may be used to sharing their pain... but dante hasn't actually had to die.
whatever it is that's got the word etched into their clockface-- he can't really guess.]
We already know turning the clock still works, so what's got you all bothered?
They could try and laugh it off, say it was a joke made in poor taste, keep it a secret until...
Until...
They can't. There's no hiding this. Not with the pain coming more often and lasting longer. Not with the way they can feel their heart grow still and shift and burn when it does. It's either say something now or wait until he comes across their body later and they... They can't do that to him.]
< Can't say anything about your drinking, but... > [They set their pen and notebook down on the table and put their head in their hand.] < You heard me correctly. >
should he have noticed? have they been hiding it, or is it not happening already? but they said they were dying, not that they're simply going to die.
dante's treated to a muffled stream of vehement-sounding german, as gregor rubs at his face. the hell do they do about this, huh? even if it does turn out that they can get separated from the souls affecting them, changing them-- if dante is dead because of it... what then?
...all the times they've dragged their sinners out of hell, suffered for them, and here he is: sitting across from them with no idea what to do for his manager in return.]
[They'd point out the time after they revived him, how it took them longer to recover from turning the clock than usual, how some of that pain wasn't even related to that clock turn at all, but they've noticed how the plants growing in his hair tend to go missing. It's probably best not to make him remember that moment at all.]
< It's been going on for a couple months now, but I didn't realize what was happening until someone who died from their soul brought it up. I didn't want to believe it so I went to Patho-Gen and, well... >
[They assume he can put the rest together.]
< I guess on the bright side, it's not supposed to, uh, stick? >
I'd sure hope not, it's-- it's a little bit counter to what they've been saying this is for!
[implanting these things in them, saying it's because they need them to make it here, when some of the souls kill people? yeah, it damned well better not stick.
but after an exhaled huff of a breath, he pulls his attention back to dante. the important part isn't what patho-gen has done, after all, it's them.]
...must've been a hell of a piece of news to get, Manager bud.
...nah, I don't know that I'd think that it'd be easy for you. Maybe you feel it, sure, but you haven't had to take it all the way before.
[they haven't had the experience of feeling it close in, knowing it's coming. of abruptly losing consciousness thanks to a sudden death and then waking up to see bodies and blood that weren't there before. it's-- probably a little terrifying, to think about how they lack the security the sinners have always had.]
[All the way... The thought has them shifting in their seat.
Maybe that's it, the thing that's really filling them with dread here. No matter how many times they've felt it in the past, no matter how many Sinners at the same time, it always stopped at pain. They'd reached for those bloodied hands beyond the door, pulled them free, but never ever once felt those hands try to drag them back with them.
They don't know what's beyond that door. But they've felt the blistering heat and heard the wretched wailings.
...Gregor's question drags them from their thoughts.]
[Their first instinct is to tell him not to. The rooms here are small, they're likely to be up and about (though that's been growing more and more difficult lately), sleeping on the floor like that can't be good for his back... There are plenty of reasons why he shouldn't.
But...
But the idea of being alone... Of someone walking in and discovering them after...]
< You can have the bed, you know. It's not like I do much sleeping. >
Hey, with any luck, we'll find ourselves a place before then. Problem solved, 'ne?
[except for the part of the problem that is... well, the entire rest of it. the whole death problem. but what if they just focused on smaller problems for the time being, what if they just did that.]
[They say it with more confidence than they feel at the moment. Not that they doubt their ability to find the place, especially when the two of them have managed to narrow it down so much.
The question is more... whether or not they'll manage to get it in time, they suppose.
Not that that matters either. They'll come back, everyone's sure they'll come back. They themself are pretty sure they'll come back. It's going to be fine. ...It's going to be fine.]
< Which means I'm gonna be trusting you to take care of any showings we have to go to during the day. Keep an eye out for anything that looks like it's going to be a dealbreaker, okay? >
[In the end, it's always easier to focus on tasks like these.]
< It's been a growing problem over the last few months. It started off with just being a little uncomfortable, then a lot and then... Well, it doesn't hurt exactly. But it feels wrong in a way that's hard to explain. >
[And if they try to push it, they're usually exhausted by the end. Or, lately, after just a few moments.
They gesture to the corner, where their simple, black umbrella leans.]
< That's what I got that for. It helped take the edge off when things were too bright. >
< Well, uh... Maybe. Eventually. But maybe it'll work out in our favor too, with someone who can cover nights and someone who can cover days. And maybe I can work up a tolerance... eventually. >
[That's a lot of maybes, which makes it sound considerably less convincing than they had hoped, but given they aren't sure exactly how all this will go for either of them--]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sometime in the latter half of August
[Dante taps the end of their pen against the rim of their clock with a metallic tink for each strike as they look between the notebook in their hand and the clippings spread on the table nearby.
Searching for a way out of the Valentia and into some proper housing had turned out to be a bit more difficult than they'd expected, but luckily Gregor was willing to pitch in, turning what would have been a miserable experience separately into something that might work out into some small measure of comfort.
Certainly more than a hollowed out old car would provide.]
< What do you think? >
[They tear their gaze from the page to look over at the man in question, head cocking slightly to the side--and inadvertently putting the word "DEATH" more prominently on display.]
no subject
[they don't have many belongings, they don't need the storage... they also don't need an excessive amount of space to themselves. hell, the room at the valentia would be enough for him if it weren't for his preference to be able to keep an eye out for his manager.
... and speaking of keeping an eye out. his gaze lands on the word there, brow furrowing a little.]
... you, uh, got a little something there, manager bud.
no subject
< Oh, uh, yeah. Everyone's dealing with it these days. Guess you don't need to actually have a face in order for it to count. >
[They fiddle with the pen between their fingers. There's a stinging sensation where they know the word to be, somewhere that shouldn't be able to feel anything at all.]
< People haven't been giving you much trouble over yours, have they? >
no subject
[he says casually, as if he has not in fact been bullied over it by like three different people... it's fine. he'll just keep that to himself, he's more concerned for dante at the moment.]
Just didn't realize that was something that's been on your mind.
[they've proven, after all, that turning the clock still works here-- and that they're more capable of self defense with that soul of theirs.]
no subject
"Come to terms with it. It will happen whether you like it or not."]
< I mean... That assassination attempt was a pretty close call, wasn't-- >
[Their attempt to brush it off is cut off with a sharp tick and a wince--more out of surprise than anything else.
Seriously, how can they get hit in the head with a rock hard enough to lose consciousness and feel nothing but something like this hurts?]
< Haah... Doesn't count, huh? >
no subject
[not really an admonition, but coming from gregor? that definitely means he's concerned about it after the reminder of that particular incident, brow furrowed over the rim of his glasses. the sinners may be used to dying, and dante may be used to sharing their pain... but dante hasn't actually had to die.
whatever it is that's got the word etched into their clockface-- he can't really guess.]
We already know turning the clock still works, so what's got you all bothered?
no subject
A silence stretches. Their grip around the pen tightens. And finally...]
< I'm dying. >
[Two simple words, short and to the point. They can't even bring themself to look him in the eye when they say it.]
< I've already been to Patho-Gen to have them look into it, but... Apparently it's "normal" for the type of soul I have. >
no subject
[he blinks a few quick times as he stares at dante, struck silent. that's-- no, but there's no way he's really hearing this, right?]
S-sorry, Manager bud, but it sounded for a sec like you said you were-- haaah, I knew I went too heavy on the drinks last night.
[haha. just a funny little misheard answer, or something. that's got to be it. any second now, they'll tell him that wasn't what they said at all.]
no subject
They could try and laugh it off, say it was a joke made in poor taste, keep it a secret until...
Until...
They can't. There's no hiding this. Not with the pain coming more often and lasting longer. Not with the way they can feel their heart grow still and shift and burn when it does. It's either say something now or wait until he comes across their body later and they... They can't do that to him.]
< Can't say anything about your drinking, but... > [They set their pen and notebook down on the table and put their head in their hand.] < You heard me correctly. >
no subject
[...killing them.
should he have noticed? have they been hiding it, or is it not happening already? but they said they were dying, not that they're simply going to die.
dante's treated to a muffled stream of vehement-sounding german, as gregor rubs at his face. the hell do they do about this, huh? even if it does turn out that they can get separated from the souls affecting them, changing them-- if dante is dead because of it... what then?
...all the times they've dragged their sinners out of hell, suffered for them, and here he is: sitting across from them with no idea what to do for his manager in return.]
How are... that is, has it already...?
no subject
< ...Yeah. >
[They'd point out the time after they revived him, how it took them longer to recover from turning the clock than usual, how some of that pain wasn't even related to that clock turn at all, but they've noticed how the plants growing in his hair tend to go missing. It's probably best not to make him remember that moment at all.]
< It's been going on for a couple months now, but I didn't realize what was happening until someone who died from their soul brought it up. I didn't want to believe it so I went to Patho-Gen and, well... >
[They assume he can put the rest together.]
< I guess on the bright side, it's not supposed to, uh, stick? >
no subject
[implanting these things in them, saying it's because they need them to make it here, when some of the souls kill people? yeah, it damned well better not stick.
but after an exhaled huff of a breath, he pulls his attention back to dante. the important part isn't what patho-gen has done, after all, it's them.]
...must've been a hell of a piece of news to get, Manager bud.
no subject
< I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. You'd think it'd be easier to take, given all the times I've brought you guys back, but... >
[A sigh.]
< Some days it's easier to deal with than others. >
no subject
[they haven't had the experience of feeling it close in, knowing it's coming. of abruptly losing consciousness thanks to a sudden death and then waking up to see bodies and blood that weren't there before. it's-- probably a little terrifying, to think about how they lack the security the sinners have always had.]
You've got space on your floor, yeah?
[what is that question for.]
no subject
Maybe that's it, the thing that's really filling them with dread here. No matter how many times they've felt it in the past, no matter how many Sinners at the same time, it always stopped at pain. They'd reached for those bloodied hands beyond the door, pulled them free, but never ever once felt those hands try to drag them back with them.
They don't know what's beyond that door. But they've felt the blistering heat and heard the wretched wailings.
...Gregor's question drags them from their thoughts.]
< My... floor? >
no subject
[he confirms, with a little nod.]
Don't really have anything to move, so I think just bringing over a pillow and blanket should do fine...
no subject
But...
But the idea of being alone... Of someone walking in and discovering them after...]
< You can have the bed, you know. It's not like I do much sleeping. >
no subject
[a joke that isn't really a joke at all-- he doesn't quite work up the amused tone for it, but the attempt's there.]
You know me, these old bones of mine might complain, but I'll manage.
no subject
...They suppose going without rest isn't exactly good for them, even if it isn't really sleep.]
< In that case... Hopefully you're not stuck down there for too long? >
[It's okay, Gregor. They're not very good at this either when there's no heartfelt, motivational speech involved.
They wonder if they should thank him. They almost do. But it seems wrong, thanking someone for watching you die when they can't do anything about it.]
no subject
[except for the part of the problem that is... well, the entire rest of it. the whole death problem. but what if they just focused on smaller problems for the time being, what if they just did that.]
no subject
[They say it with more confidence than they feel at the moment. Not that they doubt their ability to find the place, especially when the two of them have managed to narrow it down so much.
The question is more... whether or not they'll manage to get it in time, they suppose.
Not that that matters either. They'll come back, everyone's sure they'll come back. They themself are pretty sure they'll come back. It's going to be fine. ...It's going to be fine.]
< Which means I'm gonna be trusting you to take care of any showings we have to go to during the day. Keep an eye out for anything that looks like it's going to be a dealbreaker, okay? >
[In the end, it's always easier to focus on tasks like these.]
no subject
[he's got this in the bag! nothing to worry about!
(citation needed)]
...has it been that rough on you, getting out during the day?
no subject
[And if they try to push it, they're usually exhausted by the end. Or, lately, after just a few moments.
They gesture to the corner, where their simple, black umbrella leans.]
< That's what I got that for. It helped take the edge off when things were too bright. >
no subject
[his gaze drops to his arm there, brow furrowing.]
And don't... plants usually want more light...? You think that might end up being a problem for us?
no subject
< Well, uh... Maybe. Eventually. But maybe it'll work out in our favor too, with someone who can cover nights and someone who can cover days. And maybe I can work up a tolerance... eventually. >
[That's a lot of maybes, which makes it sound considerably less convincing than they had hoped, but given they aren't sure exactly how all this will go for either of them--]
< We'll just play it by ear for now. >