We both know that's untrue. If you're going to lie at least tell a better one.
[He remembered how his "brother" treated him before. He had never been anything but gentle and kind to him, even now he could remember how he would soften as he got dragged around for all manner of foolishness Kanoa got into.
Was that why part of this felt wrong? He knew what the other was capable of, they were the same... and yet each strike almost came as a surprise. No- this is what he wanted, what they both wanted. Even if this older version of him wanted to torment him first. So be it. He's probably far from the first person to want to do the same.]
I already told you, discarded waste doesn't have a name.
[Discarded and broken. Even Dottore probably wouldn't think of him as even worth disassembling at this point. His scrambled and conflicting thoughts could only be further proof that he was somehow even more defective than before.
But he didn't want to think about that, he wanted to feel the other's hatred, let it mirror his own. Let it set his head back on right. So he'd attempt to knee the other in the gut. Stop stalling, and get on with it.]
[Memories can be a blessing and a curse at the same time. Something that distorts and corrupts but also something that liberates and makes you feel relief. That not everything is lost, that they are there to keep you grounded to the path you're walking. They can fuel determination, they can convince you to be better.
And he clearely remembers how Kanoa had been dragging him out to the most insignificant pointless events ever.]
You seem to forget something important. [Maybe that is even the most frustrating thing of all.] Your family is still here. There is no need to deny your name because of the past we share.
[Well if it wasn't the most basic form of self-hate.]
That is what I hate the most about you. [About him.] I will not grant you death because of such a weak and petty reason! [He takes the kick in the gut and the other receives a nice anemo-infused punch in return.
And oh, it hurts. Whatever is not inside his chest twists and turns and fuels an almost powerless sort of sadness.]
[The words rang hollow in his ears, and he just laughs, even through the punch.]
Liar.
[Because you were my family too.]
You would never lay a hand on Kanoa.
[So he wasn’t Kanoa anymore, he couldn’t be. He wasn’t something to be loved and cherished.
But he wanted to be, and that’s the part that hurt most of all. He wanted to go back to being that naive fool, he wanted his family back, he wanted that life back. But how could any of them love something like him now? It hurts. It hurts and he wants it to stop.
Because he still loves them too.
Even his “brother”, who he should hate. The “brother” that he should just see as himself, and hate in return. The brother that he wanted to destroy him, but also to make things better like he always used to. The one that always seemed to have this power to make his chest hurt less. The brother he disappointed by winding up like this all over again in spite of everything. After how hard he'd tried to make sure he didn't become this.
It was all he could do to grasp at his chest. It hurt so bad, he hated it. He hated himself. He just wanted it all to stop.]
[Oh, that's low. As expected from himself. After all, is there anyone who hates him more?]
But you aren't Kanoa.
[But it is true, he wouldn't hurt his other self. The one who kept calling him brother and who deserved everything good in life. Who shouldn't go and chase godhood, who should not go and trust the Doctor.]
You have turned into me. [Wanderer could see how the other is grasping his chest, knowing very well that this hurts the other beyond hurting.] Heh, now before I am going to tear your limbs off...tell me, who would you put your trust in more? The man who named you Kanoa? Or the one who made you The Balladeer?
[Really, he'd trust a rabid dog not to bite more than he'd trust Dottore.]
I trust pa-
[And the words get stuck in his throat. He... he used to call him "papa". Names were supposed to be given by a parent, or so he thought when he was younger. He hadn't understood it at the time, but looking back on the memory... the first time he'd called Nanu that, the old man had been so happy. Even if he wasn't present, he didn't want to upset him- but he also didn't deserve to call him that anymore.
In the end, he didn't want to let Nanu down- at least not more than he already was anyway.]
I trust papa...
[He couldn't stop the way his voice cracked as he spoke, or the quiet tears that fell unbidden. He... he wanted his papa again. He wanted to be that child he would hold and assure everything would be fine. He didn't want to be... this. He didn't want to make Nanu sad, but being sad over a broken puppet would be easier for him than having to accept that the "boy" he once loved as his own was a monster.]
[Seeing the other break down aches immensely. So no, no limbs will be torn off now. There's just sadness and pain and everything he hates. Because this is where their paths truly go their different ways.
For himself there's a path that's still unknown and for his other self there's a family. It seems fair. He can live with that.
He wants to move and wipe those tears away but his body seemed to be frozen in time. All he can hear himself say are the same words he's repeating for a while now.]
[He could only shake his head, he couldn’t shake the fear and guilt that so suddenly overwhelmed him.]
I can’t be Kanoa anymore. I’m not him…
[It was as he had said, if he had truly been Kanoa, his broth- his older self would have treated him as such. But he knew.
He knew he was the wretched craven thing that centuries of hatred, abuse, and bitterness had created. He was a fool for trying to pretend he wasn’t.
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. He’d have simply adapted to survive, no matter how low he had to go, no matter who he had to step in to get there, just as he always had. But now something was wrong. The thought of continuing like that- no, the thought of those here seeing him like that terrified him. Terrified and hurt him.
The only solution he could think of was to end things, if he couldn’t rid himself of this unending pain then perhaps that was the best option. That way no one has to be hurt learning that their little Kanoa was a monster.
So he looked up to the one he’d turned to for guidance so often in their past, the fear, turmoil and pain clear on his face. He did not deserve to call him brother any longer, they were the same after all, but he was who he needed in this moment.]
[Wanderer moves to sit back, hands resting in his lap and not busy with lashing out this time.]
You are going to listen and after that you will get up on your feet and speak to that old man. [Because to him this is that one point. That exact point where their paths will split up. To him the old man and his cats is a mere old man with cats. To his other self the old man is family.] Before you are going to embrace your new name and your new life, there is one important thing you should know. [He is quite sure Kanoa isn't aware of it. That there are two betrayals and not three.]
The friend we share, Niwa, never left us. He had been waiting. [It still hurt. Even though he has faced the fact head on, it still hurt, it still makes him wish that he could undo it.] Dottore killed him and filled our heads with lies. The heart... [The look on his face changes to something between anger and absolute sadness.] ...it belonged to Niwa.
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[He remembered how his "brother" treated him before. He had never been anything but gentle and kind to him, even now he could remember how he would soften as he got dragged around for all manner of foolishness Kanoa got into.
Was that why part of this felt wrong? He knew what the other was capable of, they were the same... and yet each strike almost came as a surprise. No- this is what he wanted, what they both wanted. Even if this older version of him wanted to torment him first. So be it. He's probably far from the first person to want to do the same.]
I already told you, discarded waste doesn't have a name.
[Discarded and broken. Even Dottore probably wouldn't think of him as even worth disassembling at this point. His scrambled and conflicting thoughts could only be further proof that he was somehow even more defective than before.
But he didn't want to think about that, he wanted to feel the other's hatred, let it mirror his own. Let it set his head back on right. So he'd attempt to knee the other in the gut. Stop stalling, and get on with it.]
no subject
And he clearely remembers how Kanoa had been dragging him out to the most insignificant pointless events ever.]
You seem to forget something important. [Maybe that is even the most frustrating thing of all.] Your family is still here. There is no need to deny your name because of the past we share.
[Well if it wasn't the most basic form of self-hate.]
That is what I hate the most about you. [About him.] I will not grant you death because of such a weak and petty reason! [He takes the kick in the gut and the other receives a nice anemo-infused punch in return.
And oh, it hurts. Whatever is not inside his chest twists and turns and fuels an almost powerless sort of sadness.]
What is your name?!
no subject
Liar.
[Because you were my family too.]
You would never lay a hand on Kanoa.
[So he wasn’t Kanoa anymore, he couldn’t be. He wasn’t something to be loved and cherished.
But he wanted to be, and that’s the part that hurt most of all. He wanted to go back to being that naive fool, he wanted his family back, he wanted that life back. But how could any of them love something like him now? It hurts. It hurts and he wants it to stop.
Because he still loves them too.
Even his “brother”, who he should hate. The “brother” that he should just see as himself, and hate in return. The brother that he wanted to destroy him, but also to make things better like he always used to. The one that always seemed to have this power to make his chest hurt less. The brother he disappointed by winding up like this all over again in spite of everything. After how hard he'd tried to make sure he didn't become this.
It was all he could do to grasp at his chest. It hurt so bad, he hated it. He hated himself. He just wanted it all to stop.]
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But you aren't Kanoa.
[But it is true, he wouldn't hurt his other self. The one who kept calling him brother and who deserved everything good in life. Who shouldn't go and chase godhood, who should not go and trust the Doctor.]
You have turned into me. [Wanderer could see how the other is grasping his chest, knowing very well that this hurts the other beyond hurting.] Heh, now before I am going to tear your limbs off...tell me, who would you put your trust in more? The man who named you Kanoa? Or the one who made you The Balladeer?
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[Really, he'd trust a rabid dog not to bite more than he'd trust Dottore.]
I trust pa-
[And the words get stuck in his throat. He... he used to call him "papa". Names were supposed to be given by a parent, or so he thought when he was younger. He hadn't understood it at the time, but looking back on the memory... the first time he'd called Nanu that, the old man had been so happy. Even if he wasn't present, he didn't want to upset him- but he also didn't deserve to call him that anymore.
In the end, he didn't want to let Nanu down- at least not more than he already was anyway.]
I trust papa...
[He couldn't stop the way his voice cracked as he spoke, or the quiet tears that fell unbidden. He... he wanted his papa again. He wanted to be that child he would hold and assure everything would be fine. He didn't want to be... this. He didn't want to make Nanu sad, but being sad over a broken puppet would be easier for him than having to accept that the "boy" he once loved as his own was a monster.]
no subject
For himself there's a path that's still unknown and for his other self there's a family. It seems fair. He can live with that.
He wants to move and wipe those tears away but his body seemed to be frozen in time. All he can hear himself say are the same words he's repeating for a while now.]
What is your name?
no subject
I can’t be Kanoa anymore. I’m not him…
[It was as he had said, if he had truly been Kanoa, his broth- his older self would have treated him as such. But he knew.
He knew he was the wretched craven thing that centuries of hatred, abuse, and bitterness had created. He was a fool for trying to pretend he wasn’t.
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. He’d have simply adapted to survive, no matter how low he had to go, no matter who he had to step in to get there, just as he always had. But now something was wrong. The thought of continuing like that- no, the thought of those here seeing him like that terrified him. Terrified and hurt him.
The only solution he could think of was to end things, if he couldn’t rid himself of this unending pain then perhaps that was the best option. That way no one has to be hurt learning that their little Kanoa was a monster.
So he looked up to the one he’d turned to for guidance so often in their past, the fear, turmoil and pain clear on his face. He did not deserve to call him brother any longer, they were the same after all, but he was who he needed in this moment.]
…brother, what do I do?
no subject
You are going to listen and after that you will get up on your feet and speak to that old man. [Because to him this is that one point. That exact point where their paths will split up. To him the old man and his cats is a mere old man with cats. To his other self the old man is family.] Before you are going to embrace your new name and your new life, there is one important thing you should know. [He is quite sure Kanoa isn't aware of it. That there are two betrayals and not three.]
The friend we share, Niwa, never left us. He had been waiting. [It still hurt. Even though he has faced the fact head on, it still hurt, it still makes him wish that he could undo it.] Dottore killed him and filled our heads with lies. The heart... [The look on his face changes to something between anger and absolute sadness.] ...it belonged to Niwa.
[Slowly he moves to stand up.]
Go see your family.