[It is something of a surprise, that Corvo is approaching him with outstretched hands. Not that coming at him with outstretched hands is something as of yet untried, but no one has ever approached him with hands not trying to harm in... He can't remember.
Never? So, then, a series of minute but novel sensations— the gentle pressure of Corvo's hands against his chest, the delicate motion of his hands skilled in greater things, his presence closer than several yards away. He looks up at Corvo's face, unblinking, the flicker of surprise long gone from his expression now; this sure is something Corvo decided to to.
Interesting.] Old friend, I fear I might hold more influence than the Royal Protector in plenty of circles. Perhaps even the Duke's.
[Everybody has that one weird friend with a shrine in their closet, right... He can talk to Corvo with his jacket unbuttoned if he wants to. While Corvo is close, the Outsider takes the opportunity to study his face. Hmm.]
You never know. The nobles might lay eyes on you and still judge. The great leviathan, poorly dressed before them? Unheard of.
[Corvo chuckles, releasing the Outsider's jacket to admire his work. If he had to admit it, he wasn't actually bothered by one button. He simply wanted to test his assumptions, as it may be the only time. At least he was right.
The Outsider dropped by just to see Corvo, and Corvo could touch him without meeting a horrifying demise.
Interesting.] I was already bold. It just wasn't the best time. [He shifted his weight, studying the Outsider's features in return. Until he met those damn eyes. He had to look away., clearing his throat.] Besides... If we're going to talk about age, you're one to talk. Even if the most you've changed is actually growing your bangs.
I would be playing directly to their stereotypes. They would have a field day.
[He can't decide if that would be interesting or not, but he doesn't childishly try to unbutton the one Corvo just fixed, so apparently he's leaving the man's work as is. While Corvo admires it. Or something.
Hmm. He shifts to lean his arms on his legs again, eyeing Corvo as he looks away. The Outsider hums; yes, yes, he's older than the rocks this place was built on, etc, it was true in Dunwall and it's still true here in Karnaca— but he'll hold back on that, for once.]
I hadn't noticed. [But Corvo did...] There aren't any beauty parlors in the Void, Corvo.
That's disappointing. [Corvo laughs, running a hand through his own hair. It was too close to getting long again, strands of gray threaded through the brown. From the age, or the stress? He wasn't sure anymore.
But he was already playing a dangerous game, so he might as well tousle the Outsider's hair as he hastily went by. Acting as if there were anything else catching his attention.] I'll turn into Anton in a blink of an eye, for you. Might as well not waste it.
[The Outsider has stepped out of the Void on purpose, to come here, on purpose to see Corvo. It stands to reason that he's watching Corvo intently, which is nothing new, but it's something more to watch him in his ordinary moments - to see that he even has them - rather than watch him standing on the precipice of some kind of world-altering action.
He likes watching Corvo run his fingers through his hair, essentially. That's what the point is here. It's something else entirely to have Corvo reach for him again (and he does not move away, as for some reason the unease that grips what's left of his human heart and guides his very existence does not think Corvo's hands will turn on him if he laughs first like that) and touch his hair.
He almost doesn't hear the comment about Anton Sokolov, distracted by that contact as he is. Familiar, affectionate? Fond? Are these the words to be using, for the threads woven between the two of them for fifteen years?
Why did he do that thing??] I should hope a man of your caliber would not sink into the company of Anton Sokolov, decrepit and old and disappointed on his little boat. All these years, and he still has done nothing truly worthy of my attention.
[Is it a compliment? Hard to say.] I once wondered if he'd given up. And yet the river of his life continues to run, smaller and smaller with each passing year...
No. [Corvo's smile falters as he slows, blocking out the setting sun with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. He'd gone from looking so fond to stern in a matter of seconds.] Anton Sokolov may not have always been the man that he is now, but he's the reason my daughter is alive. That already raises him to a high caliber than the majority of Dunwall.
Besides, if his river had ran dry already, you'd be talking to a statue. [Not that he hadn't already spoken to a stone Corvo. He didn't know.] And I don't think that'd be very entertaining for you.
[Is Corvo... scolding him? Is this really happening? For a man so taciturnly enduring everything else the Outsider has said at one time or another, it's different now to hear him find his voice.
Interesting.] Now, now. Since when does the Royal Protector try to play father to someone besides his own daughter? That isn't very entertaining at all.
[Kinda. Sorta. Don't daddy kink him. Finally he gets off the table, to fold his arms and take a few meandering steps toward Corvo.] There are always disappointments, no matter what I may find the most intriguing. I merely give a push here and there, as you know very well by now. But you are on the right track.
I don't think I'd find any comfort in being called... [He starts, but decides finishing that sentence probably wasn't for the best. He shakes his head.]
You gave your pushes, yet you're still here. [He shifts his weight, standing his ground as the Outsider approaches.] Unless something cataclysmic is going to happen while my daughter's tutoring a Duke... I'm not doing anything outstanding, so I can't help but feel a little favored.
[DON'T. DADDY KINK HIM!! The Outsider isn't going to finish that sentence for him, either, because even he can see when Corvo is making it weird.
He is, however, still here. He hasn't pushed Corvo at all in fifteen years, but here he is, meandering closer until they're face to face, where he stops— and... looks up a little. That's different; it gets a thoughtful frown out of him, now. Their difference in height and not being accused of favoritism, that's what he's seriously reacting to - please keep this in mind.]
Were it such that some kind of earth-shattering disaster were poised to unleash itself on the Duke's palace, I can't help but think that at least one of us would be closer to the Empress' side. [just saying, daddy] And yet- [He holds one arm out in a grand but lazy gesture, toward the palace and its grounds and the ocean view beyond.] -here we are, on a quiet night, without a cataclysm in sight.
[Is he going to say it. The very air holds its breath. He folds his arms again. Considers.]
I wonder, has age made you forget how I've told you that you interest me?
[Context is everything, and right now context is stopping by in the dwindling hours of daylight to tell Corvo how interested in him that he is. So.]
[His shoulders tense for a brief moment, as he thinks perhaps he should be at Emily's side. What if the Duke had changed his mind, his own plans, with Jindosh recovering--
No. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to dwell on what could, and focus on what is. The Outsider was standing in front of him. The Outsider... was short.
He can't help but smirk at that.] Perhaps it has. Or maybe it's the fact disappearing for fifteen years might give the impression you lost any you might have had.
[All those years, and it's still difficult to meet those eyes. He braces himself for the chill down his spine, finally meets his gaze for more than a second.] I'm... glad. You haven't.
In one breath you tell me fifteen years is but the blink of an eye, and in the next, you fear that I would be the one to forget?
[It's good to know Corvo is still just a little bit of a mess, after all this time. He's settled into his second run at being Royal Protector, and the years sit well on his shoulders, but he still has that spark that held the Outsider's interest fifteen years ago.
And he is glad the Outsider hasn't lost interest in him, which is fascinating. The Outsider is interested in that, fittingly enough - it's rare that anyone who wants his attention is actually worth paying attention to. So, if Corvo wants him to look, and he would like to look... then there isn't a conflict of interest at all.
He lifts a hand, and the motion lacks his usual fluidity; since throwing Emily Kaldwin bodily into the Void, the last time he actually touched another person was— long, long ago. The motion halts briefly in the middle, unease, and then he reaches the rest of the way up to pat Corvo on the cheek.
This might be a little condescending, but look who Corvo is dealing with, here.]
If you wanted to speak to me, you could have asked. You could have even asked Anton Sokolov for advice. [jokes!!]
[Corvo finds himself without argument to that. Truth be told, he'd written off his encounters with the Outsider as brief entertainment. He was too young, and held too much weight on his shoulders to think on it any further. He had to raise Emily. He had to mourn Jessamine. He would have taken her attention over the god's any day, and... well, he still would.
But she was gone, and he'd finally accepted there wasn't anything he could do about that. The Outsider and his domain were unnerving, but he was company. Somewhat enjoyable company, given the circumstances. He hated to admit it, but he would if it meant he would see him again.
Because, unlike everyone else, the Outsider gave him honesty. He owed him some in return.]
Age has certainly made you bolder. [He repeats word for word, clearly to keep that humor going. Truth be told, he was afraid to get too serious when they were as close as this. Who knows what would happen.] If it were then, you would have disappeared by now. Yet now you're feeling my beard.
[Repeating his words back at him, clever, almost charming. How nice of Corvo to be irreverent about wanting to spend time with a godlike entity attached to a literal void of nothingness and misery. He certainly has a special kind of gall, that Corvo Attano.
The Outsider does not pull his hand away - he might have, if not for the attitude. Now he's doing it quite on purpose, patting at Corvo's cheek again and then simply laying his hand there, cooler to the touch than a normal human would be but not ripping Corvo's brains out through his ear, or anything. There is that.]
If it were then, wheels would need to be turned, and I would have only needed to stand back and watch. [You know, what he (pretty much) literally did.] You have had your turn as the Empire's catalyst, old friend, and now the young Empress steps up to take your place.
["You have nothing better to do so I'll just stay" - Outsider probably] And she has done a splendid job. Delilah— [Here, he lets his hand fall away, drawing it back to himself and touching fingertips to his own face as he looks away from Corvo; that unease, again.] Our usurped usurper's influence may be gone from the Empire, but the Void's memory is longer than time itself.
[Or maybe he's just paranoid, because he is, but it's still a little too creepy in his whale house. Beard touching is a clever distraction.]
[Corvo wasn't sure if he'd rather he pulled away over patting his cheek again. It was certainly a feat to get him to in the first place, but this? Now he doesn't know what to do with it. No one's held his face this long since Jessamine, with the exception of Delilah's hand getting shoved away.
He frowns, both at the retraction and the fact Delilah had made her way back into the conversation. He knew the look on the Outsider's face, because it was one he made frequently before Emily reassured him there was no way she could return.
He could take Emily's role in this, he supposes. As the Outsider withdraws, he reaches out to grip his shoulder.] The Void will recover. [Um. He doesn't know what else to say here, but he'll try.] The less it... the less you linger on what was, and look ahead to what will be. There is no future with Delilah in it. You would have seen it.
Will it? The Outsider knows Corvo means this to be a comfort (an odd feeling, certainly), but the man has a fundamental misunderstanding of the Void. It isn't his fault— Corvo is only a man, not a being of unspeakable vastness and emptiness wrapped up in itself, like the Outsider. The Void will recover. It changes, surely, so the assumption does have weight—
But when it recovers, it will more than likely lack the Outsider. He is the Void and the Void is him and yet it is not him, and one day it will tear him apart and someone or something else will take his place, perhaps seamlessly. Perhaps not.
It isn't comforting. That's the problem. He looks back at Corvo with that same disquiet, wondering...]
It's quieter here than in Dunwall. How does it feel to come back home?
[Petulant whale god, changing the subject?? Unheard of. He's a master of subtlety.]
[Corvo had a feeling the Outsider wouldn't answer. He'd probably said something stupid, considering, but it didn't stop him from trying. He's even forgotten to remove his hand until he spoke up again.
He blinked, retracting it and wringing his hands. Not only was the question abrupt, the answer was... complicated. He felt a great deal of things about coming home. Unfortunately, most of them weren't positive.]
I think I prefer the rats over the bloodflies. Their keepers are as mad as Granny Rags, but thankfully not as dangerous.
[He pauses to think further on it. His childhood home was in shambles, and there were so many crowded in the streets to avoid the Dust District.] The Duke's son did a good job of making sure it didn't feel like home any longer. But... he couldn't stop the people. They sing out in the streets. They always have. It's soothing.
We're going to be sticking around longer, making sure the streets are clear and the Abbey is getting itself back together. [He looks so annoyed at that fact, honestly.]
[Ha ha, oh Vera. The Outsider makes a face - not quite a smirk, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He'd make a snide remark about how she'd love to know she still has admirers, but Corvo probably wouldn't appreciate the extra snide part about how it's a shame someone murdered her.
Anyway.]
How is it that the Abbey can stomach two of mine having a hand in their business? Or is this "we" some trusted underlings of the Empress, and not Her Majesty and Her Majesty's heathen father?
[did you fucking miss him
The moment of palpable discomfort seems to have passed for the moment, at least; he puts his hands behind his back and turns from Corvo to walk past him, toward the ledge's edge where he peers down into the water. It truly is quieter here than Dunwall, bloodflies aside— some bugs dispatched by fire are much less of a menace than plague rats, considering they congregate, but honestly he doesn't care about that anyway. It's quiet here, but not in the way the Void is quiet. People sing.
A tour, is it? He straightens up, glancing at Corvo over his shoulder.]
You would be surprised how persuasive Emily can be with the Overseers, as opposed to my approach. [His approach was glaring them down until they finally cracked. No wonder it didn't do much. He was still bitter about the feeling those music boxes brought...
He turns to look back out at the sky, having gone from a setting pink to a deep, dark blue. The ocean is reflecting the lanterns off the patios, and the stars are starting to emerge from the sky. As it turns out, Emily had a lot of tutoring to do. Was he glad it gave them time to talk?]
Things you probably don't pay attention to, in the grand scheme of things. [He's totally making this up as he goes along, but,] There aren't many details about Dunwall that are worth looking for, besides...
[The way Samuel's smile warmed up the Hound Pits Pub, and how they never seemed to run out of whiskey. Callista and Emily's teachings in the booths, and how he'd always wind up getting scolded for distracting the Empress. Cecelia coming out of her shell in the company of real friends. Piero smelling out smoke and exploded whale oil.
[What a junkie... Tell the Outsider how good his magic feels, he'll love that. In the meantime he looks out over the water again, contemplative. Corvo has a point - the Outsider watches and the wheels turn, but he doesn't pay that much attention to the individuals (present company excluded). There have been just as many periods in history where none have been Marked as there have been where hundreds have at a time— it varies. There are so few, these days...
He can't know what Corvo is thinking of, of course. He can hazard a guess, and his guesses are correct the way one could guess which way the sun is going to set - pointlessly - but he won't actually touch the Void to Corvo's mind. The things it would do...
So, simply:] Then show me. It appears I've come into possession of some free time, but it won't last for very long.
[Corvo... didn't actually expect him to agree. The time they'd spent was already the length three or four of their meetings in Dunwall. He looks back at him, scrutinizing, trying to figure out any ulterior motive he might have.
He might as well follow through before he's dragged back into politics. He preferred the night sky, anyhow.
His Mark glows brightly before he disappears to a platform above without a word. He's on his way down the path to the carriage station with little explanation, to both the Outsider and the staring guards. Pointless for one, necessary for another lest he want to be fried.] Keep up.
[Oh— oh wow, there he goes. The Outsider doesn't lose track of him at all - funny, to think that he might - but rather his gaze follows Corvo's "path" up to the platform and beyond without comment.
Huh. Keep up, he says. Well.
Maybe at some other point during this tour he can be convinced to move around like a normal person and not a being capable of stepping between realities, but for now, he shifts minutely and quite suddenly melds back into the real world next to Corvo, peering at the waiting carriage.] No wonder you were so tight-lipped during the bad old days.
[Maybe if he keeps saying this, one of you killjoys will think he's clever.]
[Corvo probably should have jumped at that, but they both know he's already used to it by now. He's even waiting on him to appear. This is weird. He doesn't want to think about it.
He is, however, going to hold the door open for the Outsider like a gentlemen. The guards are staring. He's pretending they aren't.] You keep calling them the bad old days, like they really got any better.
[You're not clever my dude.] It was hard to come up with anything to say, when you saw what I saw. Or had a mouth full of things I don't want to remember.
[The guards can stare as long as they want, but they'll start to feel weirdly uncomfortable about it pretty soon. The Outsider isn't really trying, but there's no denying that being in his presence is too much even for some of his Marked, so even the layman who can't see him won't want to look at the empty space Corvo is speaking to for much longer.
You're welcome, Corvo.] After your family has dragged the Empire up out of the depths twice, you're still a pessimist? Hm.
[Hm. That's probably fair, but still: hm. He gets into the carriage anyway, sitting down and swiveling his gaze back to Corvo immediately. He sure is staring a lot, but this time he raises an eyebrow to go with it.]
Although you did nearly chew away the Rat Plague, all on your own. You have to give yourself some credit for that iron stomach.
[Corvo simply stares back at him in silence, considering how nice it would be to just shut the door and send him off to the city minus one Royal Protector. It wouldn't work, though, he knows this. He steps into the carriage with a sigh.] That was one time.
[He could have sat across from him for the sake of personal space, and yet he takes his seat next to the man. The lever to start the carriage was just as easily accessible on both sides, but he doesn't pay any mind when he pulls it.] At least it's not fermented red shark.
... When was the last time you ate anything, anyway?
One time? [He is always (or often) watching, Corvo. Maybe 15 years has made Corvo forget how many rats he ate!!
Corvo being right next to him means the Outsider has less room to fidget, though, which leaves him no choice but to watch Corvo do stuff. Like pull the lever. Fascinating.]
Long ago. [He'll spare the sad past speech, and how he must have been close to starving when he was sacrificed on a bed of stone, because they're having such a nice time out. But rest assured: it was something like that. He turns slightly on the seat, so he can lean his elbow on the side of the carriage.] But I know about the factories where they package red shark. I'll have to decline.
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Never? So, then, a series of minute but novel sensations— the gentle pressure of Corvo's hands against his chest, the delicate motion of his hands skilled in greater things, his presence closer than several yards away. He looks up at Corvo's face, unblinking, the flicker of surprise long gone from his expression now; this sure is something Corvo decided to to.
Interesting.] Old friend, I fear I might hold more influence than the Royal Protector in plenty of circles. Perhaps even the Duke's.
[Everybody has that one weird friend with a shrine in their closet, right... He can talk to Corvo with his jacket unbuttoned if he wants to. While Corvo is close, the Outsider takes the opportunity to study his face. Hmm.]
Age has certainly made you bolder.
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[Corvo chuckles, releasing the Outsider's jacket to admire his work. If he had to admit it, he wasn't actually bothered by one button. He simply wanted to test his assumptions, as it may be the only time. At least he was right.
The Outsider dropped by just to see Corvo, and Corvo could touch him without meeting a horrifying demise.
Interesting.] I was already bold. It just wasn't the best time. [He shifted his weight, studying the Outsider's features in return. Until he met those damn eyes. He had to look away., clearing his throat.] Besides... If we're going to talk about age, you're one to talk. Even if the most you've changed is actually growing your bangs.
[Why did he remember that, too?]
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[He can't decide if that would be interesting or not, but he doesn't childishly try to unbutton the one Corvo just fixed, so apparently he's leaving the man's work as is. While Corvo admires it. Or something.
Hmm. He shifts to lean his arms on his legs again, eyeing Corvo as he looks away. The Outsider hums; yes, yes, he's older than the rocks this place was built on, etc, it was true in Dunwall and it's still true here in Karnaca— but he'll hold back on that, for once.]
I hadn't noticed. [But Corvo did...] There aren't any beauty parlors in the Void, Corvo.
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But he was already playing a dangerous game, so he might as well tousle the Outsider's hair as he hastily went by. Acting as if there were anything else catching his attention.] I'll turn into Anton in a blink of an eye, for you. Might as well not waste it.
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He likes watching Corvo run his fingers through his hair, essentially. That's what the point is here. It's something else entirely to have Corvo reach for him again (and he does not move away, as for some reason the unease that grips what's left of his human heart and guides his very existence does not think Corvo's hands will turn on him if he laughs first like that) and touch his hair.
He almost doesn't hear the comment about Anton Sokolov, distracted by that contact as he is. Familiar, affectionate? Fond? Are these the words to be using, for the threads woven between the two of them for fifteen years?
Why did he do that thing??] I should hope a man of your caliber would not sink into the company of Anton Sokolov, decrepit and old and disappointed on his little boat. All these years, and he still has done nothing truly worthy of my attention.
[Is it a compliment? Hard to say.] I once wondered if he'd given up. And yet the river of his life continues to run, smaller and smaller with each passing year...
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Besides, if his river had ran dry already, you'd be talking to a statue. [Not that he hadn't already spoken to a stone Corvo. He didn't know.] And I don't think that'd be very entertaining for you.
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Interesting.] Now, now. Since when does the Royal Protector try to play father to someone besides his own daughter? That isn't very entertaining at all.
[Kinda. Sorta. Don't daddy kink him. Finally he gets off the table, to fold his arms and take a few meandering steps toward Corvo.] There are always disappointments, no matter what I may find the most intriguing. I merely give a push here and there, as you know very well by now. But you are on the right track.
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You gave your pushes, yet you're still here. [He shifts his weight, standing his ground as the Outsider approaches.] Unless something cataclysmic is going to happen while my daughter's tutoring a Duke... I'm not doing anything outstanding, so I can't help but feel a little favored.
[There. He said it.]
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He is, however, still here. He hasn't pushed Corvo at all in fifteen years, but here he is, meandering closer until they're face to face, where he stops— and... looks up a little. That's different; it gets a thoughtful frown out of him, now. Their difference in height and not being accused of favoritism, that's what he's seriously reacting to - please keep this in mind.]
Were it such that some kind of earth-shattering disaster were poised to unleash itself on the Duke's palace, I can't help but think that at least one of us would be closer to the Empress' side. [just saying, daddy] And yet- [He holds one arm out in a grand but lazy gesture, toward the palace and its grounds and the ocean view beyond.] -here we are, on a quiet night, without a cataclysm in sight.
[Is he going to say it. The very air holds its breath. He folds his arms again. Considers.]
I wonder, has age made you forget how I've told you that you interest me?
[Context is everything, and right now context is stopping by in the dwindling hours of daylight to tell Corvo how interested in him that he is. So.]
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No. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to dwell on what could, and focus on what is. The Outsider was standing in front of him. The Outsider... was short.
He can't help but smirk at that.] Perhaps it has. Or maybe it's the fact disappearing for fifteen years might give the impression you lost any you might have had.
[All those years, and it's still difficult to meet those eyes. He braces himself for the chill down his spine, finally meets his gaze for more than a second.] I'm... glad. You haven't.
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[It's good to know Corvo is still just a little bit of a mess, after all this time. He's settled into his second run at being Royal Protector, and the years sit well on his shoulders, but he still has that spark that held the Outsider's interest fifteen years ago.
And he is glad the Outsider hasn't lost interest in him, which is fascinating. The Outsider is interested in that, fittingly enough - it's rare that anyone who wants his attention is actually worth paying attention to. So, if Corvo wants him to look, and he would like to look... then there isn't a conflict of interest at all.
He lifts a hand, and the motion lacks his usual fluidity; since throwing Emily Kaldwin bodily into the Void, the last time he actually touched another person was— long, long ago. The motion halts briefly in the middle, unease, and then he reaches the rest of the way up to pat Corvo on the cheek.
This might be a little condescending, but look who Corvo is dealing with, here.]
If you wanted to speak to me, you could have asked. You could have even asked Anton Sokolov for advice. [jokes!!]
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But she was gone, and he'd finally accepted there wasn't anything he could do about that. The Outsider and his domain were unnerving, but he was company. Somewhat enjoyable company, given the circumstances. He hated to admit it, but he would if it meant he would see him again.
Because, unlike everyone else, the Outsider gave him honesty. He owed him some in return.]
Age has certainly made you bolder. [He repeats word for word, clearly to keep that humor going. Truth be told, he was afraid to get too serious when they were as close as this. Who knows what would happen.] If it were then, you would have disappeared by now. Yet now you're feeling my beard.
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The Outsider does not pull his hand away - he might have, if not for the attitude. Now he's doing it quite on purpose, patting at Corvo's cheek again and then simply laying his hand there, cooler to the touch than a normal human would be but not ripping Corvo's brains out through his ear, or anything. There is that.]
If it were then, wheels would need to be turned, and I would have only needed to stand back and watch. [You know, what he (pretty much) literally did.] You have had your turn as the Empire's catalyst, old friend, and now the young Empress steps up to take your place.
["You have nothing better to do so I'll just stay" - Outsider probably] And she has done a splendid job. Delilah— [Here, he lets his hand fall away, drawing it back to himself and touching fingertips to his own face as he looks away from Corvo; that unease, again.] Our usurped usurper's influence may be gone from the Empire, but the Void's memory is longer than time itself.
[Or maybe he's just paranoid, because he is, but it's still a little too creepy in his whale house. Beard touching is a clever distraction.]
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He frowns, both at the retraction and the fact Delilah had made her way back into the conversation. He knew the look on the Outsider's face, because it was one he made frequently before Emily reassured him there was no way she could return.
He could take Emily's role in this, he supposes. As the Outsider withdraws, he reaches out to grip his shoulder.] The Void will recover. [Um. He doesn't know what else to say here, but he'll try.] The less it... the less you linger on what was, and look ahead to what will be. There is no future with Delilah in it. You would have seen it.
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Will it? The Outsider knows Corvo means this to be a comfort (an odd feeling, certainly), but the man has a fundamental misunderstanding of the Void. It isn't his fault— Corvo is only a man, not a being of unspeakable vastness and emptiness wrapped up in itself, like the Outsider. The Void will recover. It changes, surely, so the assumption does have weight—
But when it recovers, it will more than likely lack the Outsider. He is the Void and the Void is him and yet it is not him, and one day it will tear him apart and someone or something else will take his place, perhaps seamlessly. Perhaps not.
It isn't comforting. That's the problem. He looks back at Corvo with that same disquiet, wondering...]
It's quieter here than in Dunwall. How does it feel to come back home?
[Petulant whale god, changing the subject?? Unheard of. He's a master of subtlety.]
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He blinked, retracting it and wringing his hands. Not only was the question abrupt, the answer was... complicated. He felt a great deal of things about coming home. Unfortunately, most of them weren't positive.]
I think I prefer the rats over the bloodflies. Their keepers are as mad as Granny Rags, but thankfully not as dangerous.
[He pauses to think further on it. His childhood home was in shambles, and there were so many crowded in the streets to avoid the Dust District.] The Duke's son did a good job of making sure it didn't feel like home any longer. But... he couldn't stop the people. They sing out in the streets. They always have. It's soothing.
We're going to be sticking around longer, making sure the streets are clear and the Abbey is getting itself back together. [He looks so annoyed at that fact, honestly.]
You're welcome to drop by for a tour.
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Anyway.]
How is it that the Abbey can stomach two of mine having a hand in their business? Or is this "we" some trusted underlings of the Empress, and not Her Majesty and Her Majesty's heathen father?
[did you fucking miss him
The moment of palpable discomfort seems to have passed for the moment, at least; he puts his hands behind his back and turns from Corvo to walk past him, toward the ledge's edge where he peers down into the water. It truly is quieter here than Dunwall, bloodflies aside— some bugs dispatched by fire are much less of a menace than plague rats, considering they congregate, but honestly he doesn't care about that anyway. It's quiet here, but not in the way the Void is quiet. People sing.
A tour, is it? He straightens up, glancing at Corvo over his shoulder.]
What is it that you want to show me?
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He turns to look back out at the sky, having gone from a setting pink to a deep, dark blue. The ocean is reflecting the lanterns off the patios, and the stars are starting to emerge from the sky. As it turns out, Emily had a lot of tutoring to do. Was he glad it gave them time to talk?]
Things you probably don't pay attention to, in the grand scheme of things. [He's totally making this up as he goes along, but,] There aren't many details about Dunwall that are worth looking for, besides...
[The way Samuel's smile warmed up the Hound Pits Pub, and how they never seemed to run out of whiskey. Callista and Emily's teachings in the booths, and how he'd always wind up getting scolded for distracting the Empress. Cecelia coming out of her shell in the company of real friends. Piero smelling out smoke and exploded whale oil.
They were all gone now. There was no "besides."]
... Things you'll blink and miss.
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He can't know what Corvo is thinking of, of course. He can hazard a guess, and his guesses are correct the way one could guess which way the sun is going to set - pointlessly - but he won't actually touch the Void to Corvo's mind. The things it would do...
So, simply:] Then show me. It appears I've come into possession of some free time, but it won't last for very long.
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He might as well follow through before he's dragged back into politics. He preferred the night sky, anyhow.
His Mark glows brightly before he disappears to a platform above without a word. He's on his way down the path to the carriage station with little explanation, to both the Outsider and the staring guards. Pointless for one, necessary for another lest he want to be fried.] Keep up.
[Some poor guy wondered who he was talking to.]
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Huh. Keep up, he says. Well.
Maybe at some other point during this tour he can be convinced to move around like a normal person and not a being capable of stepping between realities, but for now, he shifts minutely and quite suddenly melds back into the real world next to Corvo, peering at the waiting carriage.] No wonder you were so tight-lipped during the bad old days.
[Maybe if he keeps saying this, one of you killjoys will think he's clever.]
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He is, however, going to hold the door open for the Outsider like a gentlemen. The guards are staring. He's pretending they aren't.] You keep calling them the bad old days, like they really got any better.
[You're not clever my dude.] It was hard to come up with anything to say, when you saw what I saw. Or had a mouth full of things I don't want to remember.
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You're welcome, Corvo.] After your family has dragged the Empire up out of the depths twice, you're still a pessimist? Hm.
[Hm. That's probably fair, but still: hm. He gets into the carriage anyway, sitting down and swiveling his gaze back to Corvo immediately. He sure is staring a lot, but this time he raises an eyebrow to go with it.]
Although you did nearly chew away the Rat Plague, all on your own. You have to give yourself some credit for that iron stomach.
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[He could have sat across from him for the sake of personal space, and yet he takes his seat next to the man. The lever to start the carriage was just as easily accessible on both sides, but he doesn't pay any mind when he pulls it.] At least it's not fermented red shark.
... When was the last time you ate anything, anyway?
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Corvo being right next to him means the Outsider has less room to fidget, though, which leaves him no choice but to watch Corvo do stuff. Like pull the lever. Fascinating.]
Long ago. [He'll spare the sad past speech, and how he must have been close to starving when he was sacrificed on a bed of stone, because they're having such a nice time out. But rest assured: it was something like that. He turns slightly on the seat, so he can lean his elbow on the side of the carriage.] But I know about the factories where they package red shark. I'll have to decline.
[Don't try feeding him weird things...]
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