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"You make it sound like I'm on the brink of some kind of breakdown. Truth is, I'm doing much better than you might imagine."
Wanderer had a firm tone saying that, his arms crossed with confidence. The Sanctuary of Surasthana was currently home to the conversation taking place between him, the dendro archon, the Traveler and Paimon. The group who had just faced Dottore for the last time.
"Paimon is so glad Wanderer is doing better than we thought!"
Obviously. He would almost think Paimon was underestimating him if he didn't know better.
"You did not give into The Doctor's attempts at manipulation," Nahida praised proudly. "Well done."
"Indeed. You've grown quite a lot," the Traveler agreed.
Haven't fallen for his manipulations, huh. He supposed he had been successful in that regard. Not that it had been the easiest thing.
"Still..." the Traveler opened their mouth again with a concerned look on their face, "you seem slightly troubled."
The puppet's eyebrows raised in surprise. Troubled? Hardly. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a bit defensive all of a sudden.
"Hah? Where did that come from?"
"I don't know... Something about your expression looked a bit unsure."
"Unsure? Why would I be? I have achieved a long-awaited goal and defeated my arch-nemesis. Shouldn't I be glad?"
"Exactly."
His eyebrows furrowed, confused and now slightly frustrated. "What are you getting at?"
The blond outlander pondered to choose their words carefully. "I simply thought you would look more... I don't know, victorious? You claim to be fine, but your words don't exactly match your face."
The Traveler was a sharp one if the way he tensed up slightly at their words was anything to go by.
"That's fair." Nahida added. "You don't have to feel happy just because he's gone. After all, you had a complicated history with him, it's only natural that his death would arise mixed feelings."
His death. Right, Dottore was dead and gone.
"You two are overthinking this," he turned his face away before a mocking smirk formed on his face, voice dripping with disdain. "In fact, I couldn't be better. After all, the man who had once pushed me to go inside the furnace ended up getting burnt down to his ashes himself."
A silence with exchanged glances. Well, now that was awkward.
He sighed. "...I simply have a lot on my mind."
"Wanna share with us..? You know, maybe we could help you sort things out, just like you helped Paimon! Paimon wants to return the favor."
Wanderer's eyes darted to some corner inside the sanctuary in thought. Return the favor... He felt like he could let them. Maybe the calm atmosphere of the Sanctuary of Surasthana had that kind of effect on people.
"I was just thinking... about how he was acting a bit strange."
"Strange?"
"Yeah. After he called me by my old title. For a moment, I was convinced he would take the chance to destroy my life once again. He certainly had enough pettiness for that."
Yet to his surprise, he chose not to restore the lost data about him. The man said it would prove quite difficult, but was that really all to it? He didn't take Dottore as the type to give up easily, that was for sure. Maybe the second harbinger simply wasn't concerned with that, but how he let the chance to wrap him around his finger slip seemed odd regardless. The benefits could very well outweigh the costs, surely.
"...Which reminded me of something he had briefly mentioned once during one of the experiments."
"During an experiment?" asked Nahida.
"Indeed. The old man had me on the operating table while he was blabbering about something along the lines of how we were both hated by people, and how very nice it was to have someone similar to him."
...In an uncharacteristically melancholic voice that had taken Scaramouche off-guard back then. The way the harbinger's face went serious at the mention of it, still somewhat discernible under his mask. But he chose to omit that part for now.
"But wasn't he the one that distorted the reality and made you believe that?"
"That's right, Paimon, although I hadn't yet known that it was part of his manipulation. And I suppose he could very well be talking about how I was initially tossed aside... He said his hometown hadn't been very pleased with his existence there and chased him away. Hah... how pathetically human of him to ruin my life out of jealousy of what I had."
The Traveler had a confused look on their face. "And that reminded you of the recent events because..?"
Well... wasn't it a good question. He momentarily found himself at a loss for words. Not knowing why pissed him off, since he usually excelled at figuring out the guy's motives. What spilled out of his lips following a scoff was, "...Maybe that old man suddenly grew miraculously empathetic in his last moments and let me keep my current life or something."
Yeah, right. Now that got a laugh out of him.
"Honestly, I almost can't believe that freak in belts is finally dead. No matter how insufferable, it felt as if he was still too clever to lose. His logic barely had any weaknesses, and he always had too many backup plans, like a cockroach refusing to die. Yet in the end, his selfishness was the only thing he couldn't calculate for."
The dendro archon reminded. "He did say it was difficult to make peace with oneself."
"...Right." His indigo eyes narrowed with contempt. "Wisest words he's ever uttered."
The outlander glanced at him softly, knowing too well Wanderer had many moments where he had related to the feeling.
Averting his eyes from the look on Traveler's face that felt a bit too much like pitying for his liking, he sighed. "Still, with the Irminsul burned, the world is not shackled entirely by the fate system anymore. As much as it pains me to admit, it seems he technically did us all a favor. I suppose, in a way, that was his goal from the beginning, in which he achieved. To create a world where the other possibilities were respected... I suppose he's always been a man of his words."
He paused with a frown as his own tone surprised him. Was that appreciation in his voice? Was he proud of what Dottore achieved? Or was he taken off guard by the realization that they had both hoped for the same thing all along?
Disgusting. Everything in common he had with that man, he hated every single one of it. He hated the way they were both rejects of the world, both liars. He hated the way that infuriating scholar was too damn intelligent not to figure everything out. He hated the way he managed to impress someone like Dottore with his erasure of himself from Irminsul.
He hated that maddening tone he called him Scaramouche.
"I didn't even need to go looking for you. Just the sight of you was enough for me to intuit the truth."
He hated the sense of familiarity in his voice. Absolutely despised how much Dottore acted as if he knew him inside out from a single eye contact after all those years.
And above all, Wanderer hated how relieved he felt the most.
It would be a lie to say his body wasn't immediately filled with excitement upon seeing Dottore standing before him in flesh again, calling the title of the Sixth Fatui Harbinger, having the nerve to mimic his creator's attack on him as if begging to be killed by his hands this time.
He scoffed, a derisive smile making its way up his lips. "Saying it's been a while as if he had been looking forward to it? How laughable. 'I wanted to observe you up close' my ass. Did he like seeing the look on my face, feeling all smart and satisfied with himself, while he keeps his own hidden at all times? Now that I think about it, I'm kind of glad that he even remembered me. Wouldn't have been as satisfying to destroy him otherwise."
"...There is one thing Paimon is still curious about. Why did he always wear a mask?"
A question he too pondered. Honestly, what was up with that? He didn't wear that damn mask a lot during the experiments, letting him see the full extent of the determination of a scholar in his crimson eyes, the way they accompanied his hands by piercing through him mentally every time his gaze was on his body. However at some point in time, he must have grown distant to his own humanity, maybe disgusted of his emotions, perhaps not even bothering to put eyes on the following segments he created. He briefly wondered if the reason Dottore utilized masks was in any way similar to Wanderer's instinct to put on hats that helped cover his face. Had that been an unconscious act of vulnerability from the harbinger when he put it away in Scaramouche's presence? He couldn't deny the sudden, unwelcome curiosity to know if he had been the only one to have ever seen his bare face. It was already annoying enough how many more layers Dottore had worn compared to him during and right after the experiments. Which was beside the point.
"Well..." Paimon added. "Whatever the reason, at least he's finally gone, right? That calls for a celebration."
Celebration. That's right, his death is something to be celebrated, isn't it? Kind of careless of him to miss that part. The man that turned his life upside down and murdered his friend is no more. The one that always spoke with the most smug tone imaginable when he arrived in his lab for the experiments has now vanished off the face of the earth. But if so, why was he not in the mood for some festivity like it's all over?
"I don't know. He always managed to come back out from whichever corner he hid in. His death doesn't really feel like it actually happened."
Yeah, that sounded about right. Maybe in one of the limitless possibilities, The Doctor was still alive and that was why he should be keeping his guard up. He was one talented cockroach with the intellect of a crow after all, it explained why Wanderer couldn't relax. The more he thought about it, the more likely it sounded. Sure, let's go with that.
"You don't believe he's dead then?" The Traveler asked with unease written on their face.
He hesitated. It seemed this was a little tougher than he thought. How was he supposed to explain this gut feeling he had that Dottore could be alive? It would only cause the others more anxiety. Besides, it wasn't exactly something he could rationalize without evidence.
"You know... I sense something similar to hope within you."
He went still. What in the-
It was none other than Lesser Lord Kusanali being a mind-reader again. Well, more like an emotion-reader in this case. Looks like all those times he had said he found it annoying has gone in one ear and out the other.
Hope? It was a gut feeling, not hope. But whatever.
"Yeah, well. I sure hope that bastard's dead."
"I... guess I should point out that it's accompanied with regret."
...Huh?
Okay now, this was going a bit far. He didn't precisely enjoy this interrogation, especially when he didn't understand himself. "Excuse me?"
"Just helping you label them," Nahida explained. "Emotions are not the easiest to track. You seem to be bothered by something unfinished."
...Tch. How irritating.
"I thought you figured that I didn't particularly appreciate them being dissected and laid out in the open. Quite rude of you, one could say."
Nahida's smile was an apologetic one. "Sorry, I didn't mean to expose you. I merely wanted to assist you in understanding your thoughts."
He sighed. At least it was the group of people closest to him that have been the witnesses of this mess.
"Alright, fine. Truth is, my head is currently occupied with many things... that I wish I had said to him and got out of my system."
"Why didn't you?"
...He doesn't know, okay? Give him some slack. He doesn't hold all the answers about him and all this crap. When it came to Dottore, what he didn't know has always scared him further than what he does.
"...I couldn't have killed him if I got into that conversation," was what his mouth decided to settle with.
The Doctor was someone he hated. He needed that fact to stay this way. Or else it could get complicated. Truth remained that he had to go. He couldn't afford to be distracted by nonsense.
No matter how much he wished to pour out all his hatred. No matter how many hours he had wasted in his laboratory being cut open by him, drinking in strange enhancement elixirs while The Doctor made contact with various parts of his body. No matter how many times he healed him back after the brutality of the Abyss, the man's rough experiments paling in comparison. The physical and symbiotic relationship, the betrayal, the disappointments and unkept promises. Centuries of history they had together. It was all gone with the wind, as it should have.
Yet, no one really paused to talk about how still everything would become after a heavy storm, how utterly quiet — as if the might of the thunder had never come to pass.
Dottore gone. And so many things gone with him just like that. It was nothing short of absurd. But Wanderer knew better than to attribute the confusing hollowness in his chest to these turn of events. He was certain it was just him being overly conscious of his lacking of a heart again, that's what the physical emptiness in there reminded him of. Well that sucked, he thought he was over that too. Just like how he was over Dottore's... whatever the hell it was.
"...You look sad."
It was the Traveler's simple words that got him out of his thoughts. He had to give it to them, they were quite daring when it came down to it.
Still, how naive of a sentence. No he doesn't look sad. He is angry, satisfied, glad... anything but sad.
"Yeah, Paimon can see it too."
Well shit. Now he had to bite his lower lip just to stop it from quivering a little, in a futile effort that he at least prayed wasn't obvious.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He was definitely overwhelmed with joy, right? Maybe it was like those times the humans in Tatarasuna had said they cried of laughter. That was certainly the reason his eyes were getting increasingly damper with each second. Or maybe not.
"Amongst many things... you are grieving his death, aren't you? Not only that, you're ashamed of feeling sad over it. You're already missing him."
Preposterous. He suddenly felt the urge to hide his face lest they caught sight of the faint color appearing on his cheeks at her sheer audacity.
"Buer, how many times have I told you not to-"
"I wasn't using my powers this time."
So, it wasn't just the Traveler who wore their emotions visibly on their face. Although not very surprising, still not too comforting of a discovery.
Grieving? He had to laugh. Not at all a novel concept for someone with a past full of suffering. This was all a sick joke. What, had he gotten attached to Dottore of all people now? The very notion was insulting as much as it was nauseating. Why didn't he feel this way when Dottore first "died" in Nod-Krai? Was it because it didn't feel as final as this? Because the last time he wasn't there to see the disbelief on Dottore's masked face as he burned into oblivion right in front of him, his past dragging him down? Because Wanderer left him there to rot away, abandoning him back without being able to grasp the emotions in his eyes, despite the bastard deserving everything coming his way?
Because it dawned on him that he won't get to hear Scaramouche from his mouth ever again?
...Tch.
Screw this. None of this made sense. That madman should have stayed alive for the sole satisfaction of Wanderer "killing" him again countless times for all eternity.
Besides, why should he care? The original, Zandik, had long been dead, after all. It was the segments that had lived off in his place. Segments that were stuck in time, segments that were stripped off of their potential for change, living the same mindset over and over until the end. None of them were Zandik — even if they were all Zandik when together, even if that was still a part of his soul, even if all were him in different points of his life.
Eternity stretched things out over a long time, but each moment within it became all the more fragile.
The Doctor did believe in him. He saw the possibility of him becoming a god worth exploring. He respected his potential and helped him out in the process, letting him live out that fantasy regardless of the outcome. It ended up being a false hope, but a hope regardless, which he wasn't sure about appreciating or not. Amidst all the mess, Wanderer knew he had been somewhat in a special place in his eyes. Scaramouche hadn't been the most resiliant test subject of his for nothing. He couldn't deny the twisted sense of thrill it gave him to be held in such high regard. It was only through experimenting on his body that Zandik had even created all his segments. Maybe Dottore knew him inside out, after all. The second harbinger was never shy of letting others know how proud he was about keeping a divine puppet under his control. It was certainly an experience to witness the utter disbelief and mortification on the subordinates' faces as they occasionally saw the sixth in Dottore's lab, dressed in nothing but the scientist's loose shirts in the aftermath of the examinations. He despised being his personal property as much as he liked it.
Perhaps he loved to hate Dottore. Whatever that meant.
But it was all too shameful to admit out loud such ridiculous longing he had towards his arch-enemy, that much was crystal clear. So naturally, he turned his back towards his friends in an attempt to hide his expression better upon this humiliating realization.
"...It simply pisses me off to think about how cruel this world is to those who were rejected by it."
The sardonic smile on his face wasn't enough to stop the persistent waver detectable his voice.
As powerful as he was, Zandik was a puny human at the end of the day. With a human curiosity for lots of things, with a human selfishness in his heart, with a human longing and solace he has barely ever verbalized. Zandik wanted to feel strong just like him, wanted to strip himself off his painful emotions and aspirations that he deemed childish, finding comfort in the fact that people have believed him to be the monster he had become, pitying those who have not. He was unapologetically a villain, but apologetically a human.
It was astonishing how similar they were.
And he did all he did as a human. Credit where credit was due. There was a reason he had collaborated with that guy for the Shouki no Kami project. Wanderer had believed in the outcast too.
Nahida's kind gaze landed on him. "How do you feel right now?"
How he felt? Hah. He was burning up with the desire to revive him just to kill him off again, assigning each kill a different reason. He had taken up such a significant part of his life and dipped, as if he was mocking him for occupying his mind, that jerk. He deserved another kill just for that one alone.
"...A lot of things. It's not child's play to discard years of history just like that. It was a huge goal of mine to send him off. And now that he's no longer here... I feel this sense of void in my chest. I suppose I'm still not ready to close this chapter of my life yet. Not sure if I'll ever be in the near future."
The god of wisdom took one of his hands in hers. "Give yourself some time and open a space to process your emotions. None of them are right or wrong, accept however you're feeling. It's obvious he's been an important part of your life, you don't need to discard anything."
...Right. As far as he was concerned, his relationship with him was everything but finished. Not on his watch. Not anytime soon. Besides, they still needed to get to the bottom of the scholar's true intentions anyway.
Dottore was burnt to his ashes, but as for what would emerge from them...
He sighed in defeat, looking at the sanctuary's ceiling under his hat. "You were right, Lesser Lord Kusanali. The people who show up in our lives don't just evaporate like water drops and leave nothing behind. Maybe that really is why we have emotions in the world. To honor our experiences with them. However happy or painful they may have been. Perhaps to be human is to live with imperfections... imperfect feelings, and imperfect memories."
Small mercies of life.
The little archon smiled gently at him. "I'm glad you can think of it that way. We are here whenever you need us."
"...Maybe afterwards, we can go for a walk together to clear your head or talk it out," the Traveler offered in concern.
"Yeah, Paimon would like that! What do you think, Wanderer?"
He supposed it was a good thing to have companions beside him that understood him and didn't find this whole shitshow stupid. He was grateful for that much. Or else, he probably would have turned out like Dottore.
He clutched the front of his hat. "...Sure."
Both love and hate were intense emotions, but they were nothing compared to the void left behind when they disappeared. He decided he'd rather hold onto them both than discard any, lest the void became too heavy.
And perhaps, whenever he decided to sleep, he could meet The Doctor in his dreams and cuss him out then. He was content to have that option.
"...Goodbye, Doctor," he murmured into the air as he walked out of the sanctuary, face hidden by the harsh shadow his hat was casting on his bangs. "May you be accepted by people in your next life."