blessed through our burdens [open]

[dunwhale]

Daud thought that Corvo sparing him would have been the last of it; after all, what was there for him now? He had Billie's gift of Serkonan ports of call tucked inside of his coat, the slow ache of his healing side, a handful of bone charms in his belt, and...

nothing else, not even his blade. He'd left that at the grave of Jessamine Kaldwin, a useless and soppy gesture he shouldn't have. That the mark pulsed gently on his hand the entire time did nothing to make him feel better. Now, all he wanted was to rest. He should know better than to expect that he'd get anything that he wanted. It appears the Outsider isn't done with him yet.

He bedded down in the cargo of a smuggling ship and woke on the floor of a castle. Half of him wishes that it were Dunwall Tower's and that Corvo's dragged him back, somehow, which is as hopeless and improbable as it is foolish and wishful.

He explored the castle, found it both ironic and unpleasant that it's floating in a void-- curse him, that black-eyed bastard-- and eventually chose one of the offices for himself, seeing that nobody else took it. He tested his powers and found that all of them except for his ability to summon one of his Whalers to him worked. He spent a few minutes in the decrepit throne room and guiltily eyes the abandoned thrones. If the Outsider wanted to tailor-make a prison for him, this certainly fit the bill.

And then he went off in search of the other inhabitants. A castle this large and well-kept (with the exception of some rooms) has to have some.

Comments

[dustless]

"If you get out where the clouds're really thick, you might not see 'til you're falling."

Huh. They were half-expecting him to think they were a monster, they think as they hurry to match his pace. "I mean...there's monsters. Some look like skeletons, or weird slime sometimes, or bat-people, or human-y goats. They're people, though, not...dangerous animals."

[dunwhale]

A monster would be Moray. If he was willing to admit to himself, Burrows and the others who had used his services were monsters. He, himself--

well. It did nobody good to dwell upon the past. He slows down further but doesn't make any more accommodations for Frisk.

"I'll decide that for myself."

[dustless]

Frisk gives him a long, long look. They don't trust what he decides yet.

After a possibly uncomfortable amount of time, Frisk speaks again. "Did your world have monsters?"

[dunwhale]

"Every world has monsters." It's an answer he'd give to the younger Whalers if they asked him about the Void. Every place has mysteries. Go do your chores.

"Yours sound more..." a pause, a rasping breath. "Beastly."

[dustless]

Frisk sighs, a short hhf. They bet he's talking about kill-or-be-killed kinds of humans.

"They're still people. Nice people, too. Mosta the skeletons ones you meet are my family."

[dunwhale]

Daud wants to say something about how people are only nice when they have something to get out of it-- he's wrong, he knows he is, but it would make him feel better. He simply huffs.

"So you've got walking skeletons here, too."

[dustless]

Daud gives the most minuscule hint of interest, and Frisk lights up, pouncing on it.

"Yes! There's Sans, he's inna blue hoodie, he's kinda lazy and does stupid stuff, sometimes but he's really cool actually, an' the oldest. There's Papyrus--there's two of him actually, but one of them's a lot more nervous, and he's my--he's family too, really young, a baby almost, but he's taller'n me. Serif's a baby too, an' taller than me too, but just a little! He looks sorta like Sans, but he doesn't have the same clothes."

That...was a gigantic ramble, coming from Frisk. Even they look surprised about it after the fact.

[dunwhale]

The child certainly is enthusiastic when given the right incentive. If he weren't so used to fielding stake-out results told to him rapid-fire from skittish novices, he wouldn't have been able to keep up. As it was, he quietly absorbed all but the most inconsequential details.

Daud isn't one to question about what other people consider family. He, after all, ran-- used to run-- what could charitably be called a halfway house for assassins and murderers.

Still he's glad, in a grumpy way, that he's gotten so much out of Frisk. "It sounds like you care about them a lot."

[dustless]

"Yes," Frisk says decisively.

Moment of loving babble done, they give him a pointed look, sideways. "People hear 'monsters' and think 'bad'. But that's just...their name."

[dunwhale]

"I understand." It's pointless to try and argue otherwise, and he might as well spare the child his own long-winded explanation.

He takes it a step further and attempts to predictively assuage any fears they may have, "I don't mean them any harm. I'm not a killer anymore."

[dustless]

Does he really? They're going to have to hope.

'Anymore'. "Prob'ly shouldn't...nevermind." They were going to tell him to keep that secret, but secrets don't keep well here, do they? Not always. He openly admitted it anyway, unlike others. "They're...not as tough as humans, sometimes. Serif and Sans even worse than most monsters. I tell everybody to be careful. It's...important."

forgive my slow ass

[dunwhale]

"Do you think you could protect them?" It's an idly question, one he asks his Whalers when they seem close to striking up relationships, friendships outside of the fold. The answer is always a dutiful no.

He has the feeling Frisk might answer differently.

=w=b np my guy

[dustless]

Frisk raises their eyebrows.

"Yeah. If they...ever need it." Even if they might need to throw themselves in between them and a threat, or FIGHT. "Why."

[dunwhale]

"A loyal friend is a valuable commodity, and in short supply." That's all that he can offer; Billie's betrayal still stings him, the need to test others for loyalty a needling urge in the back of his head. Maybe he's trying to help. Maybe he's just a nosy old man.

[dustless]

Most of the things that come to mind would probably sound insulting. You must be in a world with lots of humans. They realize that's sort of hypocritical, even if...even if they might not qualify anymore.

"...'M friends with a lot of people," they say eventually.

[dunwhale]

Daud recognizes that his world-weary pessimism is neither wanted nor appreciated here, with this child. He grunts and continues on. "Friendship is not a one-way street, you know."

[dustless]

Frisk purses their lips. "I know. Friends with lots of people. Not just like lots of people."

Though...they do consider Charas friends, and they're unsure whether they think of Frisk being their friend back. But they're special cases.

[dunwhale]

"And I suppose that now you want to be friends with me?" He wants to amend it with something sharp, something mean, but he's already burned so many bridges that this can't hurt to see if it will grow.

He clasps his hands behind his back and looks out a window, down to the gardens, before continuing on.

[dustless]

"Yeah, I would," Frisk says, raising their eyebrows. He certainly hasn't been giving vibes that he does.

They'd be a touch more pushy if he was violently opposing them in the style of Undyne--that is, trying to convince him they're neither pathetic nor dangerous enough to kill.

...Or if he was a monster or another kid, that too, they think almost guiltily, following his gaze. They can see a patch of sunflowers from here.

[dunwhale]

"And I assume you intend to persevere until I acquiesce?" One of his Whalers-- Vladko, a street kid from Tyvia-- used to gently mock him over his habit of casually speaking like an aristocrat. His winter at the Academy taught him how to fake it well enough, and time rubbing elbows with Dunwall's elite taught him how to wear pretentious elegance like a second skin.

He's doing none of that now, of course. He looks tired and worn, but a certain kind of drily amused over Frisk's admission.

[dustless]

Fancy talk. Sounds like a Chara--and they don't know 'acquiesce', but it's not hard to work out that it means something like 'accept'.



"...I won't make you if you really don't wanna be. But there's...no reason to not be. Friends."

[dunwhale]

"Fair enough." He's charmed, to say the least, if not entirely won over. Give it time, Frisk. He sticks his hands in his pockets instead of clasped behind his back and it helps him look less prickly and more welcoming. Not by much, but a good enough telegraph that he isn't going to reject Frisk's offer.

"...now, I am going to explore this castle. And hopefully find some explanation."

[dustless]

Not bad. Not at all. Frisk's dealt with much worse levels of stonewalling before.

"Okay. Tell us if you find anything," they say, resisting the urge to immediately protest and take the lead and guide him like they offered before. Maybe he needs a touch of space to think about it.

After all, they've got nothing but time.