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“This reminds me of one of those building toys. With the blocks? I’ve never played with them before. I wonder if it’s more interesting than stacking chips.”
Veritas Ratio can’t help but remember every single thing that gambler ever told him. He replays every line in his mind, turning it around and examining it like an ancient puzzle that he desperately needs the answer to.
“Bothersome…” He can’t help but mutter. He holds a book in his lap, and although his eyes gaze upon it, his focus is a universe away. In his mind’s eye, Aventurine appears at first like any other conundrum. Akin to a rubik’s cube, a simple puzzle that, through an initial careful consideration of all its sides, can be understood and thus solved in a few, simple moves. Yet, during a few, fleeting moments, Ratio gets the sense that in his hands rests not a colorful toy, but an abyss that rests just outside of his reach. Incomprehensible and infinite. The feeling is gone, each time in a fraction of a second, as Aventurine’s charming smile resurfaces in his mind, and Ratio knows deep down that he's fallen for the peacock’s trap.
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Bothersome. Bothersome. Bothersome gambler.”
If kicking inanimate objects weren't the epitome of an irrational outburst with no real purpose, he'd definitely do it. Maybe give a little kick to the shell-like bed that Aventurine has been staying in this whole time, in his dormant state. Dr. Ratio, despite telling colleagues that he would work just like always during his time in Penacony, has taken to frequently visiting this room. He even moved most of his books and notes for research here. Fruitless endeavors, of course, since there's no way he can focus next to the shell where Aventurine’s body dissolved into bubbles.
Veritas Ratio never cries. But if he had to, he would summon his alabaster head, check that the door to Aventurine’s room is locked, and sit down to let out the few choked sobs. He’s much too dignified for snot, but tears mark his reddened cheeks, creating a damp, utterly pathetic air between his skin and the alabaster head. He barely notices. He’s staring at a huge set of building blocks. An impulsive lapse in judgment that he indulged in two days after Aventurine fell into his “Death”, and Ratio chose to wake up to try to watch over the place where his body vanished, in the real world. The place where, logically, Dr. Ratio expects it to show up again. Aventurine’s hotel room. After staring at the shell tub, Ratio felt his wits slowly being drained. As if the gambler had become some sort of regulatory system for him. Preposterous. Thus, he had escaped in the hotel, lectured Topaz on some interplanetary sociology statistics, before coming to his senses at remembering her area of expertise, and retreating to the shopping area.
Then, watching a colorful display of toys and other such items for children, all perfectly marketed with bright colors, moving eyes, promises of being the “best, strongest mecha”. His eyes, naturally, were drawn to a plain box of building blocks.
“This reminds me of one of those building toys. With the blocks? I’ve never played with them before. I wonder if it’s more interesting than stacking chips.”
His synapses fired to remember the different planets that participate in gift-giving traditions. The documents he had found about Sigonian traditions hadn’t elucidated him nearly as much as he required. So, he just marched in, swiped his personal card, and walked out with confidence, several pounds heavier as he carried the blocks back to Aventurine’s room.
Looking at them now, days later, he feels their heavy uselessness. What had he been thinking? His analysis had felt… sound, at the time. Aventurine, both oversharing and a mile-high stone wall, had outright spelled something about his own childhood out to him. Their situation had been somewhat tense, but Ratio was inclined to believe the comment to be of some significance. A more rational being would point out to him that he’s been holding every single comment from Aventurine as if it were of some significance, but alas, no one’s around to do so. Thus, Ratio had thought that it would be possibly enriching, for Aventurine to engage in an activity that was denied, or otherwise unavailable to him as a child. Perhaps it’s a glimpse of affection from Ratio. Perhaps a way to further study the blond. Will he scoff at him? Laugh at such a pathetic attempt at a gift? Right now, no other options surface in Ratio’s mind as plausible.
He bends to pick up the box of building blocks, yet unsure how to dispose of it. The sight of Aventurine, awake and with a genuine, small smile as he plays with the blocks haunts him. He pays it no mind. After all, everything is haunting his restless mind. Everyone else has awoken from their dormancy, the Nameless have defeated a colossal Sunday, and yet Aventurine is still gone. Evidence would point towards that damned gambler dying, or not coming back on purpose. Ratio loathes to think about either option.
He’s grumbling to no one in particular, when he hears bubbles pop behind him. In less than a second, he whips around. The alabaster head disappears. The heavy box of building blocks falls on the hotel’s carpeted floors with a soft thud. The room fills with the sounds of droplets dripping in the tub, as Aventurine rises from it. His clothes are drenched, he looks even paler than usual, yet he’s there, in front of Veritas Ratio. In the flesh. Holding the little message tube that Ratio had gifted him, holding it so tightly that his knuckles go white, and his hand trembles. In contrast, he wears his usual smile on his face.
“Doctor, how pleasant to see you as soon as I wake. Watching over me, were you?” Aventurine’s voice is infuriatingly teasing.
“Typical of you, to not take anything seriously even in such a moment.” Ratio’s tone is stern, but he still walks toward Aventurine, and his hands are at once under the blond’s armpits, holding him up as best as he can.
“Oh, but Doctor, how could I pass up the chance to tease you when you’re all doting and caring? Look at yourself, even forgetting your own distaste for physical touch.” Aventurine’s legs tremble while Ratio helps him out of the shell and onto the same velvet armchair that he’s been overthinking in for days.
“I’d much rather you focus on your own wellbeing and trembling legs instead. I am but a scholar, I cannot hold onto dead weight for long.”
This earns a scoff from Aventurine, followed by an amused chuckle. “Humble as always, doctor. I was just enjoying a little ride.”
Aventurine stands on his own, stepping away from Ratio and sitting on the armchair with his own strength. For once, Veritas Ratio wishes he could have held his tongue back. Too late now. He sighs. “I am extremely tempted to leave this room at once. Unfortunately, until we conclude the proceedings for the missions, we’re still partners.” He could have said colleagues. He didn’t. He tried not to look at Aventurine as he did. Even if he desperately wanted to study his expression. “And I’m obliged to update you on the situation. Everyone in Penacony has woken up from their state of dormancy. The Nameless are being hailed as heroes. In a twist of events that will be studied in history, the Xianzhou Alliance fleet is sitting next to the IPC’s, and we’re all in talks to figure out what to do now. The general of the Loufu, the IPC… even the Genius Society has spared a glance at our situation, to get first dibs to study the strange phenomena that appeared. I loathe that I’m considering working with them, but their resources and collaboration could prove immensely useful… Onto more important matters. Topaz and the other Stonehearts are constantly postering for updates about you. Given that I was the one that physically entered the hotel, they’ve dreadfully decided that I’m to be their messenger. Care to update me about your condition, briefly, mind you, so I may relay the information to them and finally stop their endless barrage of messages on my poor phone?”
“Is that a Logux Mega Set of building blocks?”
“I…” Ratio is speechless (just for a moment, of course). “Did you listen to a single word I said?”
“Of course. I can focus my eyes on one thing and ears on another. Now, forget your incessant blabbering. Is that a Logux Mega Set of building blocks?”
Veritas Ratio scoffs. But who is he to stir Aventurine away from this topic? Any will do, to simply get Ratio’s mind to stop going a thousand miles an hour. “It is.”
“Is it for me, Doctor?”
Could he lie? Yes. Convincingly? To most people, perhaps. To a professional gambler? No. Even if the professional gambler sits drenched and pale, clearly almost out of it. “You should worry about more pressing matters, rather than toys. Doctor’s orders.”
“So they are for me. You remembered.”
“My memory is simply more keenly tuned than most people’s.” He blurts, before realizing what he’s saying. Seeing Aventurine in this state is throwing off his internal compass. The blond’s shirt sticks to his chest, becoming transparent. He can see faint scars even through the fabric. “Ehm. When dealing with medicine and psychology, as per your case, which was strictly linked to a mental journey, sometimes regression can help patients in the recovery stage.”
“Regression… Heh. Bring ‘em here.”
“Are you really going to ignore that you just woke up from Death, or rather Dormancy, after taking on a slash from the Nihility’s emanator right to the chest, without telling me what happened to you, and how you got out? Nothing?”
“Later. Get me those Logux.” Aventurine smirks.
“You’re clearly back to your usual self. No need for regression therapy. But… fine.” Ratio grabs the box and drags it next to Aventurine’s chair. He sits on the edge of the shell bathtub, as he rips open the top part of the box. Confetti shoots up, and a cheerful jingle plays. “Damned Penaconias…”
“I think it’s charming.” Aventurine whispers. He reaches a hand into the box and pulls away a single, yellow wooden arch block. He holds it between two knuckles, swirling it around as if it were a poker chip. Ratio is just about to comment something entirely unhelpful, like, damned gambler, before Aventurine speaks up once more. “What do children usually do with these? Houses? Their own home? Monster? Abstract pieces of art?”
“I don’t—”
“Oh, of course you don’t know. You probably studied for fun. Give me more pieces. I’ll think something up.”
Ratio’s hand moves by itself. He reaches in the box and picks up a handful of random pieces, handing them to a… genuinely smiling Aventurine. The blond keeps the pieces in his lap, and starts stacking them up on the armrest. He’s all curled up on the chair, head resting on the armrest, his colorful peacock eyes trained on the block structure. Ratio holds his breath. He does not want to shatter this moment. He sees Aventurine, as a bottomless void. He needs to study him while he’s in this state, for as long as he can.
“I did play with blocks and other child-appropriate activities, for your information. I simply scheduled my play time accordingly so it didn’t eat into my studies.”
“Pshh, of course. You’re extremely predictable, Veritas Ratio. Never play poker against anyone who isn’t me, or they might take advantage of that.” Aventurine chuckles. Ratio leans forward to study the weird structure the blond is concocting.
“It’s… supposed to be an IPC ship.” Aventurine’s gloved hand points at different block structures. “This one is a little cave where I remember making offerings to Gaiathra.”
“The Mother Goddess of the Sigonians…” Ratio’s heart drops. Aventurine, skilled conversationalist as he is, had never mentioned his home culture, opting to keep their conversations lighthearted, teasing, and enigmatic in nature. Yet there he is. In front of Ratio. Curled up like a kid, not even having bothered to call Jade for a mission report. Not even having bothered to dry off his expensive clothes, the costume, and in turn the persona, of the peacock. He’s smiling softly, yet so focused on the blocks Ratio gifted. It’s… illogical.
“You’re not Aventurine. I’m still dreaming.”
Ratio feels a gigantic eye staring down his neck from behind him. To be caught in the same snare twice, now that would be a foolish endeavor.
It hurts his heart to say goodbye to such a scene, but when he realizes it for what it is, he knows there’s no other choice.
“Oh, Doctor. Finally figured it out, have you?”
With a gasp, Dr. Ratio awakes from his Dormancy. Outside of his door, he can hear the young archivist of the Astral Express hushedly talking with someone clearly robotic in nature, from the metallic clanking they’re producing. The hotel is eerily quiet. He allows himself a single second, to close his eyes, and remember Aventurine as his Dormant state willed him.
His usual train of thought quickly blows away the image of Aventurine’s smile. Death, Dormancy, the Family, the Watchmaker. He holds the rubik’s cube in his mind, undone and messy once more, to be put together, before his gambler can get back to the other side once more.