Week 2, Saturday Post-Trial - Sandalphon

[fragileprophet]

[This time it really is one last gay for the road. With his own fate unknown, there are a lot of people who have stopped by to talk to them. But, eventually, the night wears on. Ion can't sleep. He has one thing on his mind. So, in the dark, dead hours of the night, a visitor enters the dungeon. When Ion reaches Sandalphon's cell, he's carrying a cup of coffee, balancing it carefully.]

I brought you something...I made it myself.

Comments

[melancoffeea]

[In the dungeon, Sandalphon prays softly in a foreign tongue with his eyes closed and his hands clasped together. The sounds of his prayer roll into one, almost like a long drawl. He trails off upon hearing Ion's approach, his eyes opening slowly to regard his partner, then the cup of coffee, with a blank look.]

. . . Coffee, huh.

[fragileprophet]

Yes. It probably...isn't very good. I'm sorry.

[He passes it through the bars, anyway.]

I wasn't interrupting you, was I?

[melancoffeea]

No. I was just about finished.

[He studies the cup for a while longer, before he reaches for it and raises the rim to his lips. It smells nice, regardless of what the taste may be. But he doesn't drink it yet. His body feels so numb.]

[fragileprophet]

I think I'll stay here with you for the rest of the night.

[He almost adds a caveat: if you don't mind, if that wouldn't be too much trouble, if it would be okay. Instead, he just sits--and won't pressure Sandalphon into drinking his coffee. This is his time.]

[melancoffeea]

[Sandalphon doesn't tell him to go. He focuses on the warmth radiating from the drink in the cup. It feels like it's been days since he drank coffee.]

Do as you wish.

[fragileprophet]

Thank you.

[It's not going to be comfortable...but that's fine. He leans his head back against the bars.]

I couldn't stand the thought of how lonely you must be down here by yourself.

[melancoffeea]

You experienced my memories of Pandemonium. This cage is like a child's contraption in comparison.

[He might as well be sitting in a nice room. The loneliness doesn't bother him: He's too used to it.

Sandalphon takes a sip of the coffee, his brow twitching faintly for a second. It could be worse, and he can't remember the last time someone made coffee for him.]

[fragileprophet]

That isn't the point.

[Loneliness is loneliness.]

It hurts to be alone no matter where you are.

[melancoffeea]

. . . I'm not lonely. This is where I belong.

[fragileprophet]

Please don't say that. You don't belong here any more than anyone else.

[A hand wanders up to his necklace idly, tugging at it. Oh, Sandalphon.]

[melancoffeea]

Don't I? You saw it for yourself. Thanks to my betrayal, I was meant to be caged for an eternity.

[fragileprophet]

It was what was meant, but that doesn't make it right.

[He turns his head, watching Sandalphon.]

I was meant to die, but you didn't accept that for me, either.

[melancoffeea]

[Sandalphon frowns.]

You're different. You have resolve that I lack . . . a purpose and something to strive to be; whereas I . . .

[He has nothing to offer. He's an irredeemable piece of scrap.]

[fragileprophet]

You matter.

[He knows--he knows that it's something he's always craved to be told. If he was anyone else, it might feel manipulative, like he's just trying to say what he thinks Sandalphon is hoping to hear.

But his voice chokes even as he tries to be firm. They're words from his own heart, too.]

[melancoffeea]

[The familiar lump in his throat swells at those tender words. How long has he wanted to hear those words? Now that he has, he finds his flimsy walls crumbling. He swallows the first whimper that almost escapes him, but he can't stop the second as his hands tremble around the cup.

His voice, too, shakes.]

Why . . . why does it have to be now? I don't deserve those words . . . I didn't do anything . . .

[fragileprophet]

That's not true. You did a lot--you did so much for me.

[He reaches a hand up and coils it around the cell's bar.]

You made me see myself in a way that I hadn't been able to before. And you cared...cared so much you put yourself here.

[melancoffeea]

That's not true . . .

[He parrots the words as he hunches over, curling in on himself.]

This was my plan from the start. It wasn't out of special consideration for anyone. I didn't . . . No one should die, because of someone like me. I never had any intention of surviving. I wanted to be here.

[fragileprophet]

It is true.

[He feels so small. Even now, can he not get through? This is their last chance, and is Sandalphon going to die...feeling so meaningless?]

I know you. You're someone that deserves to live. I wanted to be the one to do this for you.

[melancoffeea]

Enough!

[It's a quiet shout, and the rest of his words are delivered in the same fashion. He refuses to look at Ion.]

I don't deserve it, nor do you have to do anything for me. If this ability is real . . . If this foolish trick works, then you'll be free. You'll be with a worthier partner. So don't waste your breath on me.

[fragileprophet]

You can't make me!

[It is, absolutely, by far, the single most childish thing that Ion has ever said in his life. He actually covers his mouth after her says it, startled at himself, but that doesn't erase the pain on his face. He struggles back to his feet, facing Sandalphon head on.]

You don't know how much I'm going to miss you! I never wanted another partner!

[melancoffeea]

[Ion's strong reaction causes Sandalphon's eyes to widen as his head snaps toward the former. He doesn't understand why he has to fight on this point. The words seem to slip through the cracks as he all but stammers.]

Stop . . . Forget about me. Don't be foolish!

[fragileprophet]

[Ion shakes his head.]

I won't! I want to remember you always--and--and--why should it matter if that makes me a fool? I'd rather be a fool who keeps you in my heart than wise and empty!

[melancoffeea]

[The trembling increases. He drops the cup, but it thankfully falls away from Sandalphon as its contents spill onto the dungeon floor.

He repeats the one word that cuts through his mind.]

Stop. I don't want to hear it. Don't say any more!

[fragileprophet]

But you need to hear it! I won't let you die for me and think that it means nothing!

[His hands clench so tightly around the bars.]

I can't take it--I can't take this anymore!

[melancoffeea]

Stop!

[He brings his hands up to his ears. There's a flash of light that fades as soon as it comes, leaving behind six radiant wings of white that sprout from Sandalphon's back to curl around his body like a shield.

His eyes are wide, unfocused. The wings are still, but he continues to shake.]