[The last thing he remembered was the feeling of weakness, and falling... and the pain of it all. He had hoped that would be the end of it, the end of him. He'd be put out of his misery so he wouldn't have to continue suffering such a wretched existence.
But of course he would never be so fortunate.
He was only vaguely aware of being moved around and the sounds of voices. He couldn't make out any of it, and wasn't coherent enough to think properly. Slowly more started coming to him. Warmth, the occasional waft of food, people touching him- petting his hair, or holding his hand. He couldn't make sense of it, it was foreign yet... familiar.
When he'd finally regained enough power to rouse himself he was... disoriented. Not out of grogginess or anything like that, but because this place... when was the last time he'd seen it? It should have been hundreds of years ago, but it felt like he'd just gone to bed there the night before. Could everything have just been a dream? A terrible and wretched dream? Could he still be the Kabu- no, Kanoa?
Deep down he knew none of it had been a dream, but he was so desperate to divorce himself from the reality he just left, a way out from all that pain, that he readily accepted this as true.
So he propped himself up, or, well he tried to. He had to move one of Nanu's many cats of his chest first before he could manage sitting up. Sort of. The cat kept returning to his chest, and he kept trying to remove it- he didn't even notice when someone entered the room.]
[Did he ran towards the room where the other lived? Oh absolutely. He even used a bit too much of his Anemo strength to be there even faster. Did he care? Well, yes, he did. The more he noticed how the other was carving out a different path than his, the more he was convinced that, this time, there could be a happier ending.
His other self hadn't learned how to hate people and avoid them alltogether. Things would be fine for him. Perhaps when the connection to Irminsul was lost, fates could be changed. Or well, that's what he hoped for.
When he enters the room it smells like warmth and life. A bit like Niwa's home was. There were people and lots of cats. That old man was there as well, still looking as if he was about to fall over and die. The sleeping quarters were in the back and as he walks up towards it he is very aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. Was it fear? Was it anger? Sadness? Was it disappointment? Frustration?
Wanderer closes the door behind him after he has entered the bedroom and moves to prop himself up against the wall, watching the other with his arms crossed.]
How disgraceful. [He isn't talking to the puppet called Kanoa this time. Because really, that's not who he's looking at. Its just himself.] After all these humans have given you...you still chose to become me.
[The voice brought with it a sense of dread. He was still disoriented, still eager to live in his lie- but there stood the only person that could force him to face it all.
Dread and loathing, because yes, that was indeed him and there was no one he hated more...
And yet... there were still pieces, fragments of who he was here. Fresh in his mind, unlike the faded and tainted memories of the Kabukimono from long ago. This was him, but it was also his "brother". The grumpy brother that frowned too much, who would take him on little adventures. The brother he'd drink tea with to try and make smile, even if he hated the stuff.
He brought a hand to his head and winced. Which was right? His hatred, or the warm affection that still rose unbidden in his chest? He shook his head slightly at the other's words.]
What... what are you talking about?
[He didn't call him "brother", for deep down he knew the truth, he knew he couldn't be what once was... but still he craved the lie over reality. So while the old moniker was discarded, the tone was not as harsh as it would be were he in his right mind.]
[The anger he feels is old but familiar. After all, it is that feeling that has been driving him for hundreds of years. There is no need to feel it now, he knows that, he has gone beyond that, not? Right when he faced himself he had told him to die.
Wanderer pushes away from the wall and notices the remnants of tubes coming from the other's back. Weren't they 'brothers' first? Family? His other self had always insisted to care and to love and seemed to cling all those emotions he had denied himself hundreds of years ago.]
Hm? Don't you smell that? They are making food for you. Because these stupid humans care so much for you wellbeing. [Like Niwa always had done for him.] Yet here you are. A chest full of warmth and your hands stained with blood.
[He laughs and to be honest, he wants to destroy the other for being him. And with every second that passes that feeling grows.]
[The words for their defense tumble from his mouth before he can catch himself. There was a twist in his chest at the thought of humans as a collective, and anger that ran through him like a poison for centuries.
Yet at the same time, his mind went to the people he had once befriended. Nanu always cooking for him despite him telling him multiple times he didn't need to eat. He was probably making some trashy meal of cup noodles or something. Vague memories of kind words and affections of others also came unbidden. How could he hate them? But they were humans...
He tried to keep the thoughts forced down, don't think about it. Don't remember. Don't let those that care for you know what a monster you've become.]
Stop it... STOP IT!
[Please don't take this away from me, brother. Don't do this to me. Please...]
[He clutched his head and brought his knees up, trying to force the anger and the memories down again. What would Kanoa say? What would he do? How could he still be that person?]
I can't- they're worried about me... I have to... I-
[He shook his head. Had to what? Lie to them? No, it couldn't be a lie, it had to be the truth. He had to forget.]
[Once he told the Traveler to allow themselves to let anger consume them, to let it poison their mind and allow it to be all there is left. After all, it could elevate you to greater heights. Heck, eventually it could even make you a god, like you should have been.
A god.
The word echoes through his mind a couple of times before he notices what is lying in front of him. It seems they just pulled it out of the other, thinking it couldn't belong to their dear friend Kanoa. After all, it was Kanoa who ate soap and burped bubbles for days on end. And it was Kanoa who built snowmen. Kanoa could not be this monster.
Wanderer moves to pick it up and approaches the bed.]
No.
[And it would be a lie if this wasn't making his chest twist and turn in the most horrible way possible. How he 'thanked' the family he used to have by erasing all their descendants one by one.]
What is your name? [Wanderer doesn't go and wait for the other to sit up and look at the tube in his hand. He reaches out quickly to grab a fistful of hair and yank the other's head up so the only thing he can see is said tube.]
[He yelped as his hair was grabbed, and it took him a moment to see what was in front of him, but when he does his eyes go wide.
Everything came flooding back. The fight with the Traveller, the years of experimentation under Dottore, the betrayals in his youth, the centuries of hunting down the Blacksmiths, and picking them off. Ensuring they suffered throughout the generations.
Slowly he reached up to take the painfully familiar object in his hands to stare at it. Then he started to laugh, that painfully unsettling laugh. Of course... of course he couldn't even have his lie. That would be too good for him wouldn't it? No, Kanoa was to just be another victim of the Balladeer, like so many others.
Or so he told himself. Much like how he couldn't completely suppress who he was back home, he couldn't force away the fresh and soft memories and emotions that were left waiting for him him here.]
I have no name. I'm just another abject failure. A discarded milksop. I am nothing anymore.
[His grip tightened on the tube and he twisted it in his hands, shredding it away from it's metal base.]
But I assume the answer you want to hear out of me is "The Balladeer".
[Just like he is something to Nahida. Maybe even to the Traveler. Someone who means something to another. Maybe just a small thing. Someone who can cook well or someone who can finish off hilichurls the fastest. But needed nonetheless.
Perhaps it is there were their paths will change. But for that change to happen, a lot needs to be done.]
Receiving a name means the beginning of a new life.
[He mutters the words to himself before he looks back at the other again. Yeah, he hates himself. He hates himself more than he hates all the humans in the world. More than the Doctor, even.
And that is when he notices how something snaps inside of him.]
I despise you.
[And without any hesitation he slams a fists into the other's face.]
[And there it was. Something familiar. Something deserved. He wanted more, he wanted to be beaten until his thoughts were only consumed with the pain. How convenient it was that another him stood right before him, perhaps they would both see that wish fulfilled.
He holds his cheek and starts laughing, quiet at first, could be mistaken for crying if one didn't know better, but grows louder until it's a full blown cackle. Which he abruptly cuts off to lunge at the other.
Of course he didn't take into consideration his weakened state, this wasn't done with the intent to win the fight. He just wanted to hurt and be hurt, just like he had always been.
So he takes the metal piece he still had in his hands and tried to swing it at the other's head. Even if it did connect, he lacked the force to cause serious harm...
and perhaps at the last moment he had changed trajectory slightly. What was initially going to hit his temple shifted to hit the fat of his cheek instead.
Perhaps there were still pieces of the one that didn't see the Wanderer as himself, but as his beloved sibling. Pieces of Kanoa that would never want to truly harm the brother he loved and relied on so.
Even if those pieces couldn't override the maniacal self-loathing of the Balladeer, or maybe it was only feeding it more? After all, what would such a gentle heart do when faced with the terrible atrocities he'd committed?]
[When the other bursts out in laughter he starts to chuckle in return. Wanderer expects him to snap as well and he doesn't find himself surprised when he finally does and launches himself at him. There is a short struggle, followed by something that slams into his cheek. It doesn't really hurt, after all, Ei has programmed him to feel all that pain inside his empty chest.]
Heh. [Wanderer knows what the other wants. Because it was all he wanted when Nahida woke him up.] I guess you want me to finish you, not? Reduce you to mere parts. [And now its his turn to cackle like a maniac.] I hope you haven't forgotten about how cruel I can be.
[Without any further ado he slams a second fist into the other's face, followed by a third one.]
Now tell me. [When he looks at his other self his eyes look brighter than ever and the grin around his lips is that of a maniac.] Do you remember your name now?
[He easy falls on his back, taking the punches with a smile. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. He knew this version of himself was capable of more, he remembers the wind magic he could use. How he got a vision, he didn't care, what mattered is that he used it now.]
We both know I've been through worse, stop wasting time with weak punches.
[After all, he wasn't exactly built for fist fighting. He was small and lean, thanks to mother's brilliant design. Hardier and stronger than most humans, yes, but against himself? It would amount to nothing.]
Do us both a favor, and do what I've been too much of a coward to do myself. I'll presume you know how.
[And then the smile fades into something more desperate, some... semblance of fear in his gaze at the other. A show not all of him was consumed by his anger and hate, though he was wrestling with himself over it still. How much easier would it be to just give into hatred again?
Yet it felt as though Kanoa wouldn't let him.]
They can't know what I've become. Let them just think I'm beyond repair. I don't deserve to die as Kanoa, but they don't deserve to suffer knowing that he became a monster.
[Wanderer knows it could be done in a couple of seconds. And if he was merciful, perhaps he would have ended it like this. But alas, he isn't. After all, he hates himself enough to try to erase himself from history.]
I know. [He is still smiling.] But I won't.
[There is determination, there is strength and there is a strong will to push forward. But never kindness. And then he sees that slight change in the other's face. Is it fear? Desperation?]
Unlike you...there is no kindness left inside of me anymore. [Then he leans in, his face close to that of his other self while he uses a free hand to take a firm hold of his chin.]
So once again I ask you...what is your name? [The grip around his other self's chin tightens.] Speak to me.
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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For Wanderer
But of course he would never be so fortunate.
He was only vaguely aware of being moved around and the sounds of voices. He couldn't make out any of it, and wasn't coherent enough to think properly. Slowly more started coming to him. Warmth, the occasional waft of food, people touching him- petting his hair, or holding his hand. He couldn't make sense of it, it was foreign yet... familiar.
When he'd finally regained enough power to rouse himself he was... disoriented. Not out of grogginess or anything like that, but because this place... when was the last time he'd seen it? It should have been hundreds of years ago, but it felt like he'd just gone to bed there the night before. Could everything have just been a dream? A terrible and wretched dream? Could he still be the Kabu- no, Kanoa?
Deep down he knew none of it had been a dream, but he was so desperate to divorce himself from the reality he just left, a way out from all that pain, that he readily accepted this as true.
So he propped himself up, or, well he tried to. He had to move one of Nanu's many cats of his chest first before he could manage sitting up. Sort of. The cat kept returning to his chest, and he kept trying to remove it- he didn't even notice when someone entered the room.]
no subject
His other self hadn't learned how to hate people and avoid them alltogether. Things would be fine for him. Perhaps when the connection to Irminsul was lost, fates could be changed. Or well, that's what he hoped for.
When he enters the room it smells like warmth and life. A bit like Niwa's home was. There were people and lots of cats. That old man was there as well, still looking as if he was about to fall over and die. The sleeping quarters were in the back and as he walks up towards it he is very aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. Was it fear? Was it anger? Sadness? Was it disappointment? Frustration?
Wanderer closes the door behind him after he has entered the bedroom and moves to prop himself up against the wall, watching the other with his arms crossed.]
How disgraceful. [He isn't talking to the puppet called Kanoa this time. Because really, that's not who he's looking at. Its just himself.] After all these humans have given you...you still chose to become me.
no subject
Dread and loathing, because yes, that was indeed him and there was no one he hated more...
And yet... there were still pieces, fragments of who he was here. Fresh in his mind, unlike the faded and tainted memories of the Kabukimono from long ago. This was him, but it was also his "brother". The grumpy brother that frowned too much, who would take him on little adventures. The brother he'd drink tea with to try and make smile, even if he hated the stuff.
He brought a hand to his head and winced. Which was right? His hatred, or the warm affection that still rose unbidden in his chest? He shook his head slightly at the other's words.]
What... what are you talking about?
[He didn't call him "brother", for deep down he knew the truth, he knew he couldn't be what once was... but still he craved the lie over reality. So while the old moniker was discarded, the tone was not as harsh as it would be were he in his right mind.]
no subject
Wanderer pushes away from the wall and notices the remnants of tubes coming from the other's back. Weren't they 'brothers' first? Family? His other self had always insisted to care and to love and seemed to cling all those emotions he had denied himself hundreds of years ago.]
Hm? Don't you smell that? They are making food for you. Because these stupid humans care so much for you wellbeing. [Like Niwa always had done for him.] Yet here you are. A chest full of warmth and your hands stained with blood.
[He laughs and to be honest, he wants to destroy the other for being him. And with every second that passes that feeling grows.]
What is your name?
no subject
[The words for their defense tumble from his mouth before he can catch himself. There was a twist in his chest at the thought of humans as a collective, and anger that ran through him like a poison for centuries.
Yet at the same time, his mind went to the people he had once befriended. Nanu always cooking for him despite him telling him multiple times he didn't need to eat. He was probably making some trashy meal of cup noodles or something. Vague memories of kind words and affections of others also came unbidden. How could he hate them? But they were humans...
He tried to keep the thoughts forced down, don't think about it. Don't remember. Don't let those that care for you know what a monster you've become.]
Stop it... STOP IT!
[Please don't take this away from me, brother. Don't do this to me. Please...]
[He clutched his head and brought his knees up, trying to force the anger and the memories down again. What would Kanoa say? What would he do? How could he still be that person?]
I can't- they're worried about me... I have to... I-
[He shook his head. Had to what? Lie to them? No, it couldn't be a lie, it had to be the truth. He had to forget.]
no subject
A god.
The word echoes through his mind a couple of times before he notices what is lying in front of him. It seems they just pulled it out of the other, thinking it couldn't belong to their dear friend Kanoa. After all, it was Kanoa who ate soap and burped bubbles for days on end. And it was Kanoa who built snowmen. Kanoa could not be this monster.
Wanderer moves to pick it up and approaches the bed.]
No.
[And it would be a lie if this wasn't making his chest twist and turn in the most horrible way possible. How he 'thanked' the family he used to have by erasing all their descendants one by one.]
What is your name? [Wanderer doesn't go and wait for the other to sit up and look at the tube in his hand. He reaches out quickly to grab a fistful of hair and yank the other's head up so the only thing he can see is said tube.]
no subject
Everything came flooding back. The fight with the Traveller, the years of experimentation under Dottore, the betrayals in his youth, the centuries of hunting down the Blacksmiths, and picking them off. Ensuring they suffered throughout the generations.
Slowly he reached up to take the painfully familiar object in his hands to stare at it. Then he started to laugh, that painfully unsettling laugh. Of course... of course he couldn't even have his lie. That would be too good for him wouldn't it? No, Kanoa was to just be another victim of the Balladeer, like so many others.
Or so he told himself. Much like how he couldn't completely suppress who he was back home, he couldn't force away the fresh and soft memories and emotions that were left waiting for him him here.]
I have no name. I'm just another abject failure. A discarded milksop. I am nothing anymore.
[His grip tightened on the tube and he twisted it in his hands, shredding it away from it's metal base.]
But I assume the answer you want to hear out of me is "The Balladeer".
no subject
[Just like he is something to Nahida. Maybe even to the Traveler. Someone who means something to another. Maybe just a small thing. Someone who can cook well or someone who can finish off hilichurls the fastest. But needed nonetheless.
Perhaps it is there were their paths will change. But for that change to happen, a lot needs to be done.]
Receiving a name means the beginning of a new life.
[He mutters the words to himself before he looks back at the other again.
Yeah, he hates himself. He hates himself more than he hates all the humans in the world. More than the Doctor, even.
And that is when he notices how something snaps inside of him.]
I despise you.
[And without any hesitation he slams a fists into the other's face.]
no subject
He holds his cheek and starts laughing, quiet at first, could be mistaken for crying if one didn't know better, but grows louder until it's a full blown cackle. Which he abruptly cuts off to lunge at the other.
Of course he didn't take into consideration his weakened state, this wasn't done with the intent to win the fight. He just wanted to hurt and be hurt, just like he had always been.
So he takes the metal piece he still had in his hands and tried to swing it at the other's head. Even if it did connect, he lacked the force to cause serious harm...
and perhaps at the last moment he had changed trajectory slightly. What was initially going to hit his temple shifted to hit the fat of his cheek instead.
Perhaps there were still pieces of the one that didn't see the Wanderer as himself, but as his beloved sibling. Pieces of Kanoa that would never want to truly harm the brother he loved and relied on so.
Even if those pieces couldn't override the maniacal self-loathing of the Balladeer, or maybe it was only feeding it more? After all, what would such a gentle heart do when faced with the terrible atrocities he'd committed?]
no subject
Heh. [Wanderer knows what the other wants. Because it was all he wanted when Nahida woke him up.] I guess you want me to finish you, not? Reduce you to mere parts. [And now its his turn to cackle like a maniac.] I hope you haven't forgotten about how cruel I can be.
[Without any further ado he slams a second fist into the other's face, followed by a third one.]
Now tell me. [When he looks at his other self his eyes look brighter than ever and the grin around his lips is that of a maniac.] Do you remember your name now?
no subject
We both know I've been through worse, stop wasting time with weak punches.
[After all, he wasn't exactly built for fist fighting. He was small and lean, thanks to mother's brilliant design. Hardier and stronger than most humans, yes, but against himself? It would amount to nothing.]
Do us both a favor, and do what I've been too much of a coward to do myself. I'll presume you know how.
[And then the smile fades into something more desperate, some... semblance of fear in his gaze at the other. A show not all of him was consumed by his anger and hate, though he was wrestling with himself over it still. How much easier would it be to just give into hatred again?
Yet it felt as though Kanoa wouldn't let him.]
They can't know what I've become. Let them just think I'm beyond repair. I don't deserve to die as Kanoa, but they don't deserve to suffer knowing that he became a monster.
no subject
I know. [He is still smiling.] But I won't.
[There is determination, there is strength and there is a strong will to push forward. But never kindness. And then he sees that slight change in the other's face. Is it fear? Desperation?]
Unlike you...there is no kindness left inside of me anymore. [Then he leans in, his face close to that of his other self while he uses a free hand to take a firm hold of his chin.]
So once again I ask you...what is your name? [The grip around his other self's chin tightens.] Speak to me.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.