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“Is this a joke?” were the first words Veritas Ratio utters when first faced with three of the IPC Stonehearts—namely, Topaz, Jade, and the matter of the joke himself: Aventurine.
When none of them graces his very valid question with a very valid answer, Veritas continues, “You want me to put faith on this—” he gestures a hand toward Aventurine and his annoyingly cocksure grin, “—man’s luck without any backup plan?”
“With all due respect, Doctor, my luck is impeccable.” Aventurine saunters to where he was standing, steps so leisurely as if he had all the time in the world, as if the plan hadn’t involved—no, centered, around him facing Death. It was he who had offered himself up to be in this position, according to Jade.
Aventurine reaches from behind, elegantly producing a revolver—shiny and unblemished as if it was never used for its intended purpose—all while his gaze never left the esteemed erudite. He flicks the cylinder off the gun’s body and, with a smooth click, reveals that it held no bullets in any of its six chambers, the inside of the weapon just as untarnished as its exterior.
Veritas holds the man’s stare, even as Aventurine wordlessly fishes something out of his pocket—a single bullet—as if he’d known this very situation would happen. To think that he had anticipated Veritas to not have faith in their frankly stupid plan was in itself worth some credit, but not enough to make the genius voice it out.
Instead, he huffs.
Aventurine gingerly puts the bullet in one of the slots and then clicks the part back into place before making a show of spinning the cylinder and the gun as if it were a silly magic show meant for the unassuming eyes of a child. Nevertheless, Veritas watches.
“Your attempts to fool me will only result in failure,” Veritas warns.
“Ah, is that right?” Aventurine’s grin only widens. “Even so, I hope that you would still humor me, Doctor.”
Veritas does not chance a glance towards the other people in the room, but his peripheral vision informs him of Topaz’s slight shift in where she was standing. A small possibility, then, that this wasn’t a bluff. A rig, then. The doctor’s features harden.
“You really are a tough one, Doc.” Aventurine laughs airily, as if someone had told a particularly bland joke.
When Veritas does not say anything, Aventurine hooks a finger in the gun’s trigger guard and spins it once more. “Here, I’ll start.”
Eyes still on Veritas, Aventurine points the gun towards the wall where there hung an old painting, its colors faded but no doubt still a precious piece of art. He fires five rounds, all of them empty.
Aventurine spins the gun back in between them, and then flips it around. “Your turn, Ratio.”
There were precisely six chambers in the revolver. Veritas couldn’t have been mistaken.
“Are you setting yourself up for death, Gambler?” his left eyebrow twitches against his will.
Aventurine laughs, this time more genuine.
“That is exactly what the plan entails.” Aventurine says with a glint in his eyes.
Veritas refuses to sigh, despite the gnawing urge to do so.
“Come on, Doc, humor me this one time,” Aventurine asks of him once more. There was also an underlying vulnerability that Veritas’ trained eyes catch on, but he couldn’t quite put his finger around it. At least, not yet.
As he hooks a finger over the trigger, Veritas gives in and sighs. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be playing along with the whims of the audacious gambler.
“Well?” such a honeyed voice, as if Aventurine wasn’t pressing the muzzle onto his own chest.
“Fine,” Veritas grits out. “I will go along with that plan of yours.” He spits the word out with distaste.
“Hm, you’re not entirely convinced.”
“I am convinced with your bravery.” In his periphery, Topaz shifts again into a more relaxed posture.
“Bravery isn’t enough to expose what evil lurks within The Family.” Aventurine taunts, and Topaz stiffens.
“The IPC will be on Penacony shortly after—” Topaz begins, and promptly gets cut off when Aventurine places a finger on top of Veritas’ own on the revolver’s trigger and pushes. The weapon clicks, but it does not release any bullets.
“Aeons,” Topaz shakes her head, but there was relief in her tone.
“Gotta trust me more, Topaz.” Aventurine sing-songs. “Right, Jade?”
“Mm.” Jade nods. “There is no one else better suited for this task other than you two.”
Veritas stiffly lets go of the gun when Aventurine begins to extract it from him with both hands. After successfully reobtaining the revolver, the gambler raises the gun once more and fires it towards the nearby table.
The thin flower vase on the table explodes, its contents spilling messily onto the waxed floorboards.
Veritas frowns, and then scoffs.
This ought to be a challenging mission, but not in terms of success.
***
Now, in The Reverie, as he holds Aventurine’s cold hand from where most of his body was still submerged in the Dreamscape fluid, the mission does prove to be challenging.
“Dear gambler,” Veritas squeezes the inanimate hand. It had been one of his two indulgences, this biting endearment. The other was calling Aventurine charming.
He’d known how often his words were misinterpreted and likely misunderstood, and still he’d stuck with not explaining himself, especially when it came to this high-stakes-frenzied peacock. Still, Veritas Ratio was only a man, despite all the titles he’d earned, and every man harbors some kind of guilt within them.
He’d written the Doctor’s Advice right after he’d met with Sunday for the first time. Had it not been for the watchful eyes of the Harmony, Veritas might have even caved in other ways than just handing Aventurine his short letter. Alas, there was a bigger picture that demanded more heedfulness.
They were but microscopic specks, two among countless people within the cosmos. Even without his vast knowledge, Veritas knew this. In the grand scheme of things, his contributions to the world may not even be remembered in the far future. Truly, even how small, Nihility does live in everyone. It is this very fact that urged him to tell Aventurine what he said in his letter, to tell Aventurine more about it in the future. After all, that dear gambler of his radiated more Nihility than he thought he let on.
“After all this,” He says to the sleeping Aventurine, says this because he knows this charmingly audacious man will be back, “I have something to tell you.”
Expectedly, Aventurine does not even move, his peaceful features contrasting with the frown on the doctor’s face.
“But for now,” Veritas continues, “For now, I trust that you will emerge victorious from whatever challenges you face in that side.” He squeezes Aventurine’s hand once more. “And I will do my best on this side.”
Finally, he gently lets go of Aventurine’s hand, gingerly resting the limb atop the dreaming man’s chest, the very same spot where Aventurine had pointed the muzzle of his shiny revolver many months ago.
The memory of it makes Veritas’ own chest heavy with longing.
I wish you the best of luck, he, a man of stoic logic, had written. Ah, how the tables have turned. However, it was no surprise for him. He’d already accepted this outcome from Day One, and both endearingly and annoyingly so, Aventurine had only increased its probability with every interaction they shared.
He takes one last look at Aventurine before he stands up. He’ll be by again some time this afternoon.
“I will see you soon, dear gambler.”