The Foolish Fatuus
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“My dear Captain, I have achieved what others insist is impossible: I can manipulate the information stored within Irminsul," Dottore said with the same easy smile, the same relaxed posture with his hands folded behind his back, and the same confidence and arrogance radiating from every of his movements.
"To extract you from this place, all I need to do is gather your scattered data within this space, separate your informational structure from that of the Lord of the Night, and reconstruct you in the material world. That reconstructed information will then be housed within an artificial vessel I have already prepared. And then—”
Dottore spread his hands, and his smile widened.
“—you will once again walk the mortal coil.”
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The tempting offer from the one who defies Time, to the one who defies Death.
Series
- Part 1 of The Foolish Fatuus
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Desire came easily to Pantalone—far too easily. The Ninth Harbinger reached out and gently gathered the long strands of pale blue hair into his hand. He lowered himself just enough to press a kiss against the silken strands.
“Are you offering me a duet?”
A satisfied smirk curved along Dottore’s lips.
“That depends on how quickly you can learn, my dear Regrator.”
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Pantalone found his attention drawn away from his work by a beautiful melody.
Series
- Part 2 of The Foolish Fatuus
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“Strip.”
The request-slash-command went through Childe’s head.
They locked in a very long, very awkward stare-down.
Eventually, Dottore released a slow, exhausted sigh, completed with a long-suffering expression of a man reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this room. He looked like someone who wished he were literally anywhere else. Well, jokes on him. Childe felt exactly the same.
“Childe,” Dottore said patiently, in the tone one might use for a particularly dense child, “I need to examine the wound on your stomach. Might I remind you that you were nearly skewered through the abdomen by an Abyssal creature?”
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Childe was hospitalized, and Dottore lamented the fact that none of the Fatui Harbingers possessed even the slightest sense of self-preservation.
Series
- Part 3 of The Foolish Fatuus
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Just like Icarus, Dottore set his goal for the sun, and yet here Pantalone was, hopelessly enamoured with the moonlight left in its wake.
“And you must understand this, Feofan…”
His thumb traced slowly along Pantalone’s cheekbone, brushing away the tear that had escaped moments prior, the touch warm and achingly careful. It felt almost contradictory, this tenderness coming from the very same hands that had torn apart flesh, carved through divinity, reached fearlessly into horrors that would drive lesser men mad.
“Know that when I die, I will die satisfied."
Outside, somewhere beyond the frost-laced windows of the palace, the world continued to turn indifferently. The promise of war, of divine retribution, continued to loom over them. And Dottore—brilliant, monstrous, gentle Dottore—had always been born with his eyes fixed forward and upward.
“I will die on my own terms.”
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Pantalone was a very desperate man.
Series
- Part 4 of The Foolish Fatuus
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“Tell me, Knave.”
Arlecchino felt as though she was drawing her first proper breath in minutes. Cold sweat drenched her from head to toe. Her sleeveless top clung uncomfortably to her skin, soaked through, while the harsh sound of her own breathing echoed throughout the otherwise quiet room. After the extraction, her thoughts felt sluggish, as though the machine had taken more than just her fire.
“When you said you would ‘kill Dottore with your own hands’, did you only mean a specific segment?”
The 8-year-old kid looked straight at Arlecchino’s eyes.
“—Or did you mean all of us?”
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Arlecchino found herself confronted by a question she had never considered before.
Series
- Part 5 of The Foolish Fatuus
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“Dottore, the door,” Pantalone spoke against the strip of skin exposed above Dottore's collar, punctuating the words with a lingering kiss.
“…The door?”
“I don't think I locked it.”
Dottore let out a scoff. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and reached blindly behind him until his gloved hand caught Pantalone's longer hair, which he habitually wore draped over one shoulder. Pantalone let out a startled gasp when Dottore yanked him down by it. The banker's forehead collided rather painfully with Dottore's shoulder.
“You've got me bent over your desk, humped me like a horny dog, and now you're asking me to lock your door?” One eyebrow arched.
“I see you've developed quite the audacity since becoming Regrator.”
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They said good performance called for a good reward, and Pantalone for sure intended to reap those benefits.
Series
- Part 6 of The Foolish Fatuus
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Dottore fit perfectly within his embrace. The way the other man instinctively wrapped his arms around Pantalone’s shoulders—it felt perfect.
It would have been even more perfect if his nose had not caught the trace of an unfamiliar scent lingering on Dottore’s clothes. There was a scent there that definitely did not belong to Dottore. Pantalone would know, because every cologne and perfume Dottore owned had been chosen or gifted by him, and this was definitely not one of them.
“Ugh. You reek of them. I don’t like it,” Pantalone grumbled into the fabric against his face, pressing his nose further into the silk.
“Fufu— jealousy is unbecoming of you, Feofan.”
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It was difficult for Pantalone when everyone seemed drawn to Dottore’s radiance.
Series
- Part 7 of The Foolish Fatuus