#i put it under a cut cause i dont want a slab of text on the dash

[gemkun]

@defiedlife said : The drinksmith watches from behind the bar counter, her eyes falling on one of the few humans to have passed by the Dreamjolt Hostelry in the last day or so—time blurring as it can in the dreamscape. From her pocket, she withdraws a folded letter, sealed with a bit of scrap wax borrowed from a recently opened bottle; remelted and stamped by a certain gambler’s ring. “Hey Doc,” she calls out, then lowers her voice upon drawing closer. “Your friend left this here for you. Said to give it to you after… Well, he said I’d know, and dreamscape gossip always finds its way to a drinksmith. If you want anything, it’s on the house.” With a faint sympathetic smile, she places the letter before Veritas and returns to her usual post, giving him ample space and privacy. Should the good doctor choose to read the letter, it is penned in a familiar curling, sloping, and artfully messy yet legible scrawl:

First of all, if you're reading this, thank Siobhan for me. I had a feeling she'd come through. As I write this, you're probably talking to that Family head on my behalf right about now. If you've really gone through with what we discussed…know that I forgive you, no matter what happens as a result. Don't worry; I'm used to it! In fact, I owe you my thanks for taking this gamble right along with me. I couldn't have trusted anyone else to do the same. I won't bore you with with some long-winded emotional spiel, but…it's been fun, Veritas. It's an honor and a pleasure to work alongside the great Veritas Ratio. If things go badly for me in the end and I lose this gamble, try not to miss me too much, okay? Ha… I bet you're rolling your eyes right about now after reading that. No matter what the final outcome is, I'm ready for it. I knew how things might end the moment I accepted this mission. It's a risk I have to take. I've always lived that way, y'know? This is no different than any other gamble I've ever made. Win or lose, I'm probably still not back in reality yet. If "Death" hasn't taken my body from the real world… Keep an eye on it for me, would you? Maybe I'll surprise you soon. If not, if I lose and don't come back at all... Say that prayer I taught you over what's left of me, if you wouldn't mind, and send me back home to Sigonia-IV if you can keep The Family and the IPC from disposing of me elsewhere. I'd appreciate it. Of course, you could also choose to burn this letter and forget about me entirely. I wouldn't blame you. Whatever you decide to do from here on... Thanks for everything you've already done, Veritas. I'll always love you. — Kakavasha

      ⸻       system   hours   ago   it   seems   ,   they   were   just   here.   present   in   the   vicinity   ,   where   he   had   observed   a   slumbering   individual   ,   tuckered   out   from   slamming   down   a   few   too   many   servings   of   soulglad.   though   ,   despite   his   practice   ,   it   wasn’t   necessarily   uncalled   for   —   considering   the   cascade   of   events   about   to   unfold   ,   catalysed   upon   their   departure.

  gaze   drifts   ,   casting   along   the   crevices   of   wooden   panels   ,   constructing   the   bench   of   the   rather   deserted   establishment.   an   element   that   is   beneficial   in   his   case.   for   he   desires   to   be   by   his   lonesome   ,   in   preparation   for   countless   ruminations   already   beset   in   an   unsettled   mind.

  attention   spears   suddenly   ,   exhibiting   from   the   outset   —   an   emergence   of   hostility   ,   purposed   to   dissuade   company.   until   it   softens   ,   dissipating   from   the   premise   of   her   mission.   for   the   sake   of   appearances   ,   he   brushes   his   disposition   aside   ,   luring   siobhan   to   account   it   to   his   weary   state.

  evident   ,   by   the   mere   nod   he   elects   for   ,   in   acknowledgement   of   her   relayed   message.   ❝   thank   you   ,   but   that   won’t   be   necessary.   ❞   it   is   a   simple   platitude   ,   but   one   he   utters   nevertheless   ,   despite   bearing   lacklustre   vocals.   fortunately   ,   the   role   of   a   bartender   prepares   the   envoy   for   a   myriad   of   characters    —   one   ,   being   the   detached   and   worn   scholar.

  time   ,   a   variable   that   had   been   in   limited   supply   ,   is   on   his   side   now   ,   as   he   regards   the   slovenly   missive.   there   are   plenty   of   details   veritas   notes   that   the   stoneheart   had   proceeded   to   accomplish   with   haste   —   from   the   misaligned   press   to   the   creases   in   stationery   ,   and   the   stark   composition   of   choice   ,   alongside   the   tucked   paper   in   its   interior.

  it   is   all   so   .   .   .   him.

  the   doctor   sighs   ,   with   an   air   of   displeasure   ,   and   perhaps   a   glimpse   of   relief.

  before   his   artful   portrait   reverts   to   its   former   expression   ,   in   its   neutral   structure.

  reined   in   ,   his   thumb   traces   the   envelope   and   its   length   ,   dipping   slightly   to   tear   at   fragile   material.   whether   or   not   he   carves   a   perfect   line   ,   is   not   his   concern   presently   ,   for   there   is   only   one   fate   after   his   eyes   gauge   the   contents   of   terrible   scrawls.   his   index   then   ,   unfolds   the   written   piece   ,   unveiling   recognisable   script.

  he   begins   to   read.

  .   .   .

  tch.

  were   he   present   ,   a   storm   was   awaiting   ,   circling   the   lectures   he   had   in   store   for   such   impetuous   exchange   of   information.   what   if   someone   had   managed   to   intercept   this   ?   ❝   even   when   you   are   absent   ,   you   manage   to   be   as   careless   as   ever.   damned   gambler   ,   when   will   you   learn   ?   ❞   he   mutters   under   his   breath   ,   with   a   lick   of   frustration.   luckily   ,   audibility   is   caught   before   it   can   disperse   ,   by   the   page   in   his   firm   grasp.

  tightened   ,   his   throat   becomes   suddenly.   for   the   validity   of   his   question   requires   a   factor   he   possesses   no   control   over.

  a   fact   veritas   doesn’t   want   to   dwell   on   ,   nor   consider   currently.

  so   ,   he   does   not.

  what   he   does   linger   on   ,   is   the   request.   a   noble   and   respectable   ask.   one   ,   the   mundanite   will   perform   without   question.   but   this   is   not   his   struggle   —   for   a   delegate   is   familiar   with   conducting   duties   expected   of   him   ,   and   carrying   out   associated   tasks.   he   is   not   ,   however   ,   acquainted   with   the   subject   ,   attached   to   its   conclusion.

  ❛    veritas.   i'll   always   love   you.

  —   kakavasha   ❜

  it   is   enough   to   elicit   a   sour   response   ,   indeed.   with   a   derisive   laugh   —   and   one   ,   not   alien   to   him.   perhaps   it   is   the   comical   aspect   of   this   farce   ,   or   perhaps   it   is   the   cruelty   leashed   to   the   occurrences   that   led   up   to   this   unprecedented   confession   ,   or   perhaps   it   is   the   fact   he   had   known.

  deep   down   ,   beyond   those   carefully   ,   cultivated   barricades   ,   past   his   security   measures.

  he   had   always   known.

  paper   crumples   ,   breaching   the   persisting   silence   for   an   instance   before   he   alights   from   his   stool   and   meanders   to   the   exit   of   the   dreamjolt   hostelry.   still   ,   crinkling   the   letter   as   he   braves   penacony   ,   with   an   inkling   of   animosity.

  it   is   out   of   safety   ,   that   he   sources   a   fire   in   the   land   of   dreams.   an   easy   feat   he   accomplishes   ,   inciting   flames   to   eat   the   tarnished   profession   ,   whereupon   the   dawn   feeds   it   ,   igniting   sparks   to   consume.   until   there   is   only   embers.   until   there   is   only   ash.

  until   there   is   nothing.

  but   in   the   wake   of   particulates   ,   whisked   by   the   wind   ,   there   is   only   one   thought   ,   prevalent   in   his   mind   as   he   examines   the   inferno.

  come   back   to   me   ,   gambler.

  don’t   you   know   ?

  .   .   .

  ah   ,   there   is   work   to   be   done.

#* ✦ 𝐈𝐈. ❮ asks ❯ ⸻ ❝ #* ✦ 𝐕𝐈. ❮ muses ❯ ⸻ ❝ 「 veritas ratio 」 #* ✦ defiedlife #* ✦ defiedlife | aventurine #so unlike you know normal people i sat down and just wrote this for 20 minutes straight #it's a little sped up by the end but like it's kinda reflective on the emotional turmoil veritas is undergoing #though he will never ever admit it #im a bit distraught after writing this too smh #putting me through this pain how dare you #pelts chalk at you #i hope you understand that by burning the letter he deems that idea of aventurine being gone as dead #because he firmly believes he will come back #but he knows the prayer he memorised the letter #but he will not let aventurine's submission into demise be the end all be all #i put it under a cut cause i dont want a slab of text on the dash #long post