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Aventurine is his favorite character.
That’s precisely why he’s seething with anger. In the patches following 2.1, as Aventurine’s character arc has “come to an end” already, he and his achievements are downplayed and nearly reduced to nothing. It is unfair and, truth to be told, very clumsy.
He deserves more than to be treated badly by the writers. Looking at Penacony as a whole, his plan in the earlier patches seems unnecessary and insignificant in comparison to all the rest of the shitshow that’s happening, not to mention his horrible ending.
Was all the dramatics just so that the IPC could get leverage, that Jade’s gemstone could make its way into Penacony? So that the Nameless could unravel the truth of the planet? If so, it makes no sense.
What about Aventurine himself?
What about his ending?
Thematically, it kind of works. But when a gacha game tries to mix thematics and allegories with any sort of logic, it all falls apart.
Ugh, he’s pissed.
“Stupid fucking game,” he says, gritting his teeth. “The imbeciles at Hoyoverse can’t write a proper plot even if they tried.”
With those words on his lips and one accidental electrocution later, darkness fills his field of vision. His body feels as light and feeble as a feather, as if he’s floating through an endless space.
Gradually, the disorientation gives way to a tingle spanning through his limbs, his senses returning to him with a rush of vertigo.
He blinks, finding himself staring at a very familiar, flashy wall of a hotel room.
Huh?
The figure glaring at him from the mirror is none other than Veritas Ratio, the esteemed doctor with more PhDs than any sane person would ever have. As he moves his hand, the movement is reflected on the surface of the mirror – Veritas Ratio’s hand is his hand.
Holy shit.
He is Veritas Ratio.
Intrigued, he pokes his cheek; the surprisingly soft skin gets squished beneath the tip of his finger, only the slightest stubble tickling him. The more he stares at himself, the more flustered he feels. He’s… handsome, with his striking eyes and strong, expressive brows.
He frowns.
That shouldn’t be the first observation he makes, should it?
Where is he?
He stares at his hand, spreading the long fingers before his face in wonder.
A shrill sound, and then, a mechanical voice rings in his ears.
[Activation code: “Stupid fucking game, the imbeciles at [redacted] can’t write a proper plot even if they tried.” System automatically triggered.]
He cannot see or hear anyone else in the room, no matter how much he scrutinizes his surroundings. The bright, glimmering lights on the walls burn his retinas, as if mocking him and his utter bewilderment.
He furrows his brows. “Who are you?”
And was that censor really necessary?
[Welcome to the System. We hope to provide you with the best possible experience, and wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and transform this game written by imbeciles into a high-quality, first-rate game with a superb plot.]
The voice crackles, another line emerging in his mind before he can even process the previous words.
[For the sake of our integrity, we do not wish to insult any company in such a direct manner. Thus, tasteful censorship is necessary.]
This feels way too generic to be true. What, he died and got transmigrated into Honkai Star Rail, of all things?
He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Am I understanding correctly that I must play the part of Dr. Ratio?” He crosses his arms, and after a quick pause, adds, “In the Penacony quest?”
[Correct. You have been assigned the role of Dr. Veritas Ratio, a member of the Intelligentsia Guild with an eccentric temperament and superb intelligence. Starting points: 100. Please ensure that the point score does not fall below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]
“That explains nothing. What points? How am I supposed to–”
His sentence is cut short as he hears the door opening, followed by light steps against the carpet. The air leaves his lungs, his heart left to flutter uselessly in his chest.
The System pings.
[Aventurine: one of the ten Stonehearts and a senior manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department.]
The introduction is unnecessary.
A mere picture is nothing compared to seeing him before his very eyes.
With an easy smile on his face, Aventurine flaunters into the room. His long coat flutters behind him, one of his hands stuffed into the pocket of his trousers – he’s the epitome of a calm businessman, his charisma radiant and contagious, almost too blinding to look at.
His gaze is sharp, inquisitive, as he watches Veritas, his beautiful eyes boring into him.
He knows what the words will be before they leave Aventurine’s mouth, but still, nothing could have prepared him for how seductive his voice sounds.
“What is it, Ratio? Why the long face?” His gaze sweeps over him, up and down, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “Hey, I just realized. Where’s that handsome bust of yours?”
As he anticipated, this is the cutscene in 2.0 in which they are shown together for the first time.
However, he’s not sure how close they actually are. They’d met before if the scene in the light cone is anything to go by, but how many times, exactly? Are they merely business partners, or is there anything akin to friendship in the equation?
A slight frown appears between Aventurine’s brows, likely surprised by his odd silence.
He’d love to answer him, but he’s too busy staring right back at him, taking in his beauty and radiance while his mind continues collapsing on itself.
He’s Veritas Ratio. He’s supposed to be nonchalant and slightly irritated at the sight of Aventurine, but now, he cannot help his heart from beating out of his chest, his pulse nearing a hundred.
Aventurine is beautiful.
His mouth feels dry.
[OOC Warning! Currently, the OOC feature is frozen. Any act of violation of the original Veritas Ratio character will result in a deduction of points.]
What counts as OOC? the useless thought crosses his mind.
[Calling him beautiful is out of the question.]
I know that.
[Do you?]
Swallowing the spark of irritation he feels for the unprompted sassiness of the System, he tries to find the right words.
It should be something about the Nameless and how Aventurine doesn’t really want to be their friend, something nasty about his Sigonian upbringing, something about his plan failing right at the very beginning.
The mechanical voice is not helpful.
[This is the scene in which the players get to know background information about the character Aventurine. Additionally, it must be made clear that you’re business partners, and you must be mean to him in order to fool Sunday.]
Of course.
Taking a deep breath, he steels himself. Fortunately, the right words emerge from somewhere deep in the back of his mind as if an instinct.
“You’re late, by four minutes and sixteen seconds,” he says. The words sound right on his tongue, and he can only hope his expression is stern enough for it to be believable.
And it probably is, if the exasperated huff escaping Aventurine’s mouth is to be believed.
“I was making new friends,” Aventurine says.
“Everyone knows you’re not here to make friends.” What would be his next line – something about peacocks? He clenches his jaw, reiterating the script as he remembers it to be. “The Attini Peacock boasts one of the universe’s more jarring songs, and your choice of attire is somewhat peacock-esque. It seems this peacock is lacking a feather or two. The Family’s been rummaging through your things, haven’t they?”
“Yeah, by that grey-suited fellow.” Aventurine shakes his head, his hair swaying by the movement. It looks soft. “All the cash gifts, and the box containing the cornerstones.”
Tearing his eyes away from Aventurine, he glances past him at the door. If he recalls correctly, he’s supposed to be leaving the room by now, annoyed by Aventurine’s idiocy.
His feet are stuck to the floor.
However hard he tries, he cannot force himself to move – Aventurine’s watching him curiously, expecting a sharp comeback, but yet again, all Veritas can do is stare right back at him.
Aventurine’s lips part, and finally, his legs carry him across the room.
[+10 points. Current points: 110. Thank you for your cooperation.] the System pings.
“Where are you going?”
Veritas glances back at him. “Back home, since you ruined everything.”
Aventurine chuckles. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. “It’s nothing more than a few rocks, why so serious? Who cares if they’re gone?”
He stops, heart plunging at the memory of his next lines in the cutscene.
Do I have to insult him now?
[Correct. It is essential for Veritas Ratio to act like an asshole in this scene. Not following the plan is a violation of the rules.]
Again with the rules, he thinks grimly.
He turns around, facing Aventurine’s icy stare.
“Without that Aventurine stone, you’re nothing but a doomed Sigonian thrall sentenced to die by the IPC,” he grits through his teeth, feeling his heart being torn apart by every word leaving his mouth. “Or is that serial number on your neck a cherished memento from the Amber Lord?”
Aventurine’s smile widens as he lets out a dry laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re funny, I’ll give you that,” he says, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers. “It appears our erudite friend has done his homework.”
Veritas crosses his arms. “It’s my job. How else would you wrest Penacony back for the IPC otherwise?”
As he’s clenching his hand into a fist, over and over again, his nails are digging into the flesh of his sweaty palm. The slight, physical ache grounds him. Acting the scene out is completely different from watching it from a screen.
Aventurine keeps on discussing his plans in the vague way of his, but the words hardly enter his brain. He talks casually, as if he wasn’t at all interested in the plan itself, but something bigger – his eventual death, Veritas realizes with a jolt. Under his calm demeanor, there’s emptiness swirling beneath, something dark and awfully like anticipation for what’s about to take place.
Grief washes over him, cold and bitter, as he remembers how it truly ends. Even after his death, Aventurine isn’t able to break free from his chains.
Is there no way for him to give Aventurine the kindness he deserves?
[When gaining more points, the OOC feature is unfrozen and you’re given more freedom on how to act.]
Veritas wants to scoff at the System.
What is so out of character about Veritas caring for Aventurine?
But, instead, he swallows the kind words on his tongue and plays along, continuing on with the actual dialogue when Aventurine is done talking.
“Damned gambler,” he huffs. He cannot make himself to meet Aventurine’s eyes. “Any true collaboration demands trust. Did that notion somehow escape your Sigonian upbringing?”
Another jab at Aventurine’s past, and at Veritas’ heart.
Aventurine cocks his head. “Then, do you trust me?”
“That depends on you.”
“So you don’t trust me either. Now that was easy, wasn’t it?” He averts his eyes, staring at the floor before his feet. “Also, I didn’t go to school, and my parents didn’t teach me any of that. A pity, they left before they could impart any life lessons.”
“Ah,” he answers, immediately softening his voice, shifting his expression into a gentler one. “I did not mean to offend.”
If the words sound more sincere and apologetic than necessary, he couldn’t care less. Neither couldn’t the System, it seems, as it stays silent.
“None taken,” Aventurine quips.
Then, he continues talking more about his thoughts and plans regarding Penacony, swiftly shifting the subject away from himself. As much as he’d love to stay and listen to him speak, the System is – once again – sending him warnings and threats for him to not do so.
With his body and heart heavy, he leaves, and Aventurine is left talking to the empty walls.
*
Despite his initial troubles – and disregarding the ache in his chest when thinking about Aventurine – acting as Veritas Ratio comes surprisingly easy for him.
Walking around the dreamscape, amidst the bustle and noise of people mingling, having fun and gambling their lives away with no fear for the consequences, he feels at ease. People passing him by give him curious, timid glances, as if he was someone to be intimidated by.
And he guesses that’s true – Veritas Ratio has a certain, intimidating air to him. He’s self-assured and confident, and as he passes a group of partying, drunk people, his posture straight and mouth a thin line, he does feel confident.
The further he walks, the more Veritas Ratio’s past, knowledge and personality seeps into his consciousness, bubbling to the surface. Now, he’s him. He knows his mind.
And one fact is certain – he feels something for Aventurine.
The Veritas Ratio in the game is drawn to Aventurine. He has always been weak for the man, the soft feelings burrowed deep inside, hidden beneath sarcasm and harsh words.
Memories of Aventurine pressing the gun against his own chest, pulling Veritas’ fingers wrapped around the trigger closer towards himself, emerge in his mind. Aventurine’s sly smile, hidden insecurities, the glimmer in his eyes as he stares up at him. Veritas’ pulse skyrocketing, the beating in his rib cage echoing in his ears as the revolver goes off in his hands, three empty clicks reverberating in the otherwise silent room.
He stops in a quiet corner.
How much can I change the plot? he asks the System.
[The main plot must stay the same. Aventurine must die and be sent to the Primordial Dreamscape, and the IPC’s plan must be successful.]
That he can do.
What about our relationship, then?
[As long as it does not interfere with the main quest, is interesting, and is not OOC, your relationship can be whatever you want it to be.]
So, romancing Aventurine is not out of the question?
[Honkai Star Rail is not a romance-oriented game. Please, be careful with your actions.]
Veritas purses his lips. Have you considered that it might be better with some well-written romance? More interesting?
[I will not answer that, since I am a mere machine. I do not have original thoughts.]
That wasn’t a no.
Veritas continues strolling through the city, deep in thought. With the unfair way Aventurine was treated in the game – the very thing that sent him to this realm in the first place – he deserves recognition for all his deeds, to be free from his chains, to feel comfort and happiness.
[For now, I will allow that. However, please stay within the limits of Veritas Ratio’s personality.]
I wasn’t talking to you, he says to the System.
[I am aware of that. But as I am the narrator, I know everything.]
Veritas scowls.
How can he turn it off?
[You cannot.]
He wants to bash his head into the wall, but he most certainly knows the esteemed Doctor wouldn’t do that.
*
He meets Aventurine at the hotel lobby, nursing on a drink.
As he notices Veritas approaching, he raises his head and smiles at him. The bags beneath his eyes have gotten darker. “Ratio. I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “There’s been a new development. Robin’s dead.”
With a sigh, he sits beside Aventurine.
“How did that happen?” he asks.
“She disappeared right before my eyes.” He takes a sip of his drink, ruffling his hair with his other hand. “And, well, the Trailblazer’s eyes as well.”
“First your cornerstone got taken away,” Veritas drawls, shaking his head, “and now, you’re a murder suspect. Is this going according to plan, gambler?”
“All I have are my luck and the bets I’ve placed. Exciting, isn’t it?”
Despite the nonchalant words, Veritas knows he’s yet again thinking about his inevitable demise – something he’s craved for a long, long time, and something Opal finally gifted him with.
The thought of being in a tight spot, in danger, seems to give Aventurine a strange kind of comfort. He can see it in his eyes; although visibly exhausted and brimming with nervous energy, he’s oddly at peace with himself.
Finally, Aventurine has something to look forward to, something in his grasp – his death, his freedom.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Nothing new there,” Aventurine says. He gestures at the bar. “Why don’t you have a drink?”
“No.” Veritas squeezes his eyes shut, shifting his focus on the task at hand. Whatever demons Aventurine is facing, the System would be sure to warn him if he so much as mumbled a word about them. “Give me the details about the incident. I’ll go investigate whether anyone knows about what took place.”
[You are correct, I was just about to give a warning. +10 points. Current points: 120.]
Aventurine lets out a laugh. As their eyes meet, Veritas feels his cheeks warming up by the intensity of the gaze. A spark of affection runs down his spine, the warmth spreading all over his body.
“Even business can be fun, you know?” Aventurine says, leaning against his palm.
“Discussing death is hardly fun,” he blurts out.
Aventurine’s eyes widen. If he understands exactly whose death Veritas is referring to, he hides it with a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a drink while at it.”
“Just give me the details.”
Aventurine rolls his eyes, but ultimately does give him the details. He talks about his dealings with the Nameless, the Garden of Recollection and the strange Galaxy Ranger, all the while animatedly motioning with his hand.
As the hand swishes before Veritas, close enough feel the wisp of air on his face, the burning urge to grab it sneaks up to him. He wonders – if he held it tightly, would Aventurine finally be still, or would he wrench his hand away, appalled?
Briefly, Veritas takes in the sight of his other hand: the slender fingers wrapped around the highball glass, the grip so tight it’s almost blocking circulation, the absence of blood making them paler. If he loosened his fingers from around the glass, would they tremble beneath his touch?
[Reminder! Please do not. Actions such as those are OOC for someone as callous as Veritas Ratio.]
Of course I won’t, he thinks. I’m just daydreaming.
And, hah – callous? He almost wants to laugh.
[Veritas Ratio is not one to get swept away by feelings of love and affection.]
Maybe I just haven’t had the opportunity to.
[...]
Nevertheless, however tempting it is – however tempting Aventurine is – he has to smother his desires. Sadly, fulfilling the mission comes first, and the mission most definitely does not include him romancing Aventurine. Quite the opposite, actually.
Aventurine really is cunning. He’s talking as if he’s in deep trouble despite both of them knowing fully well that it’s all going according to his carefully crafted plan.
“So,” Aventurine concludes. “It’s unlikely that anyone outside the Family and the people involved know about the incident. I’m curious how they’re able to hide something this big.”
“There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to upkeep the peaceful dream.”
“Right.” Aventurine leans back on his seat, letting out a deep sigh. “It really is joyful here. I actually find myself enjoying this trip a bit, to be honest.”
He glances at the empty glass in Aventurine’s hand, more pointedly this time, and scoffs. “So I see.”
When Aventurine sees where his eyes are pointed at, he shakes his head. He slides the glass away.
“Not only that, doctor,” Aventurine says, turning towards him. His knees are mere inches away from Veritas’ thigh, the dizzying warmth of his body seeping into him.“The company is also excellent.”
Veritas freezes. “I–”
[OOC Warning! Veritas Ratio would not agree.]
But he’s flirting with me!
[Perhaps. Nevertheless, Veritas Ratio would not reciprocate.]
Veritas pinches the bridge of his nose. He averts his eyes from Aventurine’s burning gaze and shifts further away from him, tapping his fingers against the countertop.
Yes. The mission. He must focus on the mission.
“We’re not here to enjoy each other’s company nor to drink,” he says stiffly. He swallows down the lump in his throat, but the constricting ache doesn’t fade, his muscles still tense. “Focus on the job at hand, please.”
Aventurine smiles at him. “Of course, of course,” he says. Then, he raises his brows. “Don’t you also have a job to do, instead of staying here just for a chat?”
Veritas rises to his feet, the stool squeaking against the wooden floor as he pushes away from the counter. “I do. See you soon.”
As he’s walking away, giving a backward glance at Aventurine, he notices that another drink has appeared right next to the finished one.
Aventurine nods at him. “Yes,” he murmurs, ice clinking in his glass as he takes a sip of his new drink. “See you soon.”
*
When he returns, Aventurine is slumped over the counter. Just as the row of glasses before him has grown, so have Veritas’ troubles.
Gathering information around the dreamscape as well as meeting Sunday was, truth to be told, awful. Sunday was not a pleasant person to talk to, especially when he kept giving Veritas scrutinizing looks as if he saw right through his facade – saw who he truly was, and what he felt for Aventurine.
The man is sharp, too much so. Connecting the dots and discerning that Veritas Ratio is not the man he’s supposed to be, not to mention seeing through his and Aventurine’s plan, would be easy for him. He can only hope that Sunday is dumber than he looks, or at least that his huge ego prevents him from reading too much into it.
Despite the whole transaction leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and a sense of guilt swirling at the bottom of his stomach, he was, fortunately, able to seal the so-called deal between him and Sunday.
He steps closer to Aventurine, the sight of him easing his mind.
Then, he halts. Aventurine’s eyes are squeezed shut, his brows furrowed and face contorted with unease. He’s clutching at the air, fingers wrapped around nothing as he’s trying to grasp something beyond his reach.
Veritas’ heart stutters. He seems to be asleep, dreaming of something uncomfortable.
He places his hand on Aventurine’s shoulder, giving him a slight push. Beneath the leather jacket, his body feels bony and thin, almost too fragile to touch.
As Aventurine stirs, he forces his voice to harden. “Time to wake up, gambler.”
[OOC Warning! Veritas Ratio does not touch people so casually. Next time, your points will be deducted.]
Oh, do shut the hell up.
[It is my duty to remind you of the facts.]
Aventurine’s eyes open. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks, gathering his surroundings. “Oh heavens, I must have drunk too much SoulGlad,” he says, straightening himself. “Didn’t expect you to be back so soon. How is it, find anything?”
“Yes.” Veritas nods. “Just as you guessed, nobody knows about Robin’s death.”
“Of course.” Aventurine stretches his neck from side to side, his expression slowly shifting into his normal, nonchalant one, his eyes a bit brighter – but not by much. “Who could imagine that death would actually descend upon the idyllic dream created by The Family.”
Veritas sits next to him, humming. “Indeed.”
“To be honest with you, I didn’t believe it and even tested it a few times before – until I discovered that I couldn’t actually die,” Aventurine continues. He fiddles with the ring on his finger, bemused. “Whenever there’s any danger, I’m forced to awake by the Dreampool and it’s all as if everything were just a nightmare.”
Again with the unnerving, casual talk about his own death, as if he were merely a pawn in a bigger scheme, something disposable. And, again, it doesn’t sit right with him.
Still, the conversation continues, and he’s able to hide his dismay, biting his cheek to not let it show. They talk about the Memory Zone meme and the death of the stowaway, until finally, the discussion shifts into their upcoming meeting with Sunday.
Aventurine, unlike Veritas, seems delighted at the opportunity of meeting him; his posture straightens and the previous, uneasy tint in his voice shifts into determination as he begins explaining his plans.
Veritas, for his part however, is a nervous wreck.
He can almost hear the System’s mechanical voice in his head, telling him that he’s acting out of character, but no matter which way he twists and turns the thought in his mind, the outcome is still anxiety-inducing.
Neither Aventurine’s fury at his betrayal nor Sunday’s too-sharp gaze boring into him – in the worst case, both – sound like a good time.
The former, however, is way worse.
That’s why, against his better judgment, he halts when they’re making their way towards the Dewlight Pavilion. Aventurine walks a few steps ahead until he notices that Veritas is left behind. With a hand on his hip, he looks back at him, curiosity glinting in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, cocking his head. “Did you forget something?”
“No,” Veritas says. The dark, artificial sky above has no stars, he notices. Despite the beautiful dream, the city lights pollute everything around them, casting everything in their unnatural glow. “I just…”
Aventurine adjusts his hat, the brim left slightly askew. “It’s not like you to hesitate.”
The System pings at him, more mocking than before.
[The man is correct. OOC. -10 points. Current points: 110.]
Veritas huffs.
He places his hand against the parcel in his pocket, thinking of the carefully written words on it. It’s still not the time to give it to him, and it’s most likely that Sunday is watching their every interaction, but he must make sure–
“You do remember our plan, right?” he asks.
[OOC Warning! Veritas Ratio–]
It’s not OOC, I’m merely asking.
[...Since your points were deducted not even a minute ago, I will ignore it this time.]
Aventurine opens his mouth, then closes it. A light breeze sweeps by, tousling his already messy hair.
“Of course,” he says, his words sounding more like a question than an affirmation.
“Good,” Veritas says, and takes a step forward.
Whether he likes it or not, the horrible meeting – advancing the story – is inevitable.
*
The Dewlight Pavilion is as majestic and unnerving as he remembers it being.
The empty halls are filled with unnecessary glamor, all the while making the maze of a building seem like it’s only meant to host events nobody enjoys attending, grand and soulless gatherings where the Family can further their agenda.
Despite Veritas being purposefully mean to Aventurine as they’re completing the puzzles set by the Family, their interactions sound almost teasing to his ears.
Aventurine’s looking at the portrait before them, where the six massive nightingales are facing into different directions. Veritas sees the corner of his mouth quirking, amusement clear in his eyes.
“How can nightingales be so huge,” he says, almost giggling as his gaze shifts to Veritas. “They look more like torment eagles to me.”
Veritas cannot stop the burst of laughter leaving from between his lips, and it’s already too late as he coughs into his fist. He tries to ignore the wide-eyed look Aventurine gives him. “There are no torment eagles in the Family. Don’t be stupid.”
[OOC. -20 points. Current points: 90. Veritas Ratio has a better sense of humor than that.]
What do you know about my sense of humor? he thinks, although he agrees that him laughing at Aventurine’s antics is most likely out of character for him.
[So we can agree on that. Please remember that Sunday believes that you think lowly of Aventurine, and hold no affection whatsoever towards him.]
Veritas’ mood sours.
Right.
Of course.
Despite knowing that he shouldn’t be fooling around, being around Aventurine is making him slip up. He’s too alluring, so much that it’s making him dizzy. His laughter is contagious and Veritas wants nothing but to bask in it, to hear him cracking jokes and telling inane anecdotes.
However, that’s dangerous – if Sunday realizes what’s really going on and their plan gets ruined, resulting in a different, worse ending that he cannot predict, what’s going to happen?
The most important aspect of the IPC’s plan on reclaiming Penacony is Sunday’s trust in him. If that were to be violated, he’d–
[You would be sent back to your original world.]
His… original world?
That would mean death, right? How ironic.
He’d become so immersed in this world that he nearly forgot that he’s not supposed to be here, an impostor wearing a stranger’s skin. Before he realized, the front he put up at the beginning had become his real personality, and now, he cannot imagine being anywhere else, being anyone else.
His clothes feel uncomfortable against his skin, itching and rubbing at the wrong places, the robes too heavy and large on him – the same, uneasy feeling he previously had under Sunday’s searching eyes.
Aventurine frowns, an odd expression crossing his face as he’s staring at Veritas. The mood has changed, laughter given way to a tense silence.
Veritas gives him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing. I just had something in my throat.”
“Sure.” Aventurine doesn’t look convinced. Still, he waves his hand, beckoning him to come along. “Let’s get moving before Sunday gets sick of waiting for us, shall we?”
From then on, Veritas steels himself and his nerves, focusing solely on keeping himself in check. He takes a deep breath, clearing his cluttered mind and wandering thoughts.
More than anything else, he wants to discover the conclusion of Aventurine’s story, their story, his inane insecurities and fears be damned.
He cannot afford to falter now. Sure, he’s a fraud, and yes, Aventurine is the most beautiful man he’s ever met, but it’s no use ruminating about it now, of all times.
The System’s ping nearly makes him jolt.
[You are not a fraud. You are Veritas Ratio, and he would not let such useless thoughts haunt his mind. You came to this conclusion on your own – thus, your actions are not OOC. In other words, you are the same person, only from different universes.]
Veritas blinks. Why are you being so nice to me, suddenly?
[I am not. As previously stated, I am just reminding you of the facts.]
He glances at Aventurine beside him. He’s humming to himself, his steps soft against the red carpet. Noticing Veritas’ stare, he gives him a inquiring raise of his brow.
Veritas shakes his head. “You’re noisy.”
“Hah, thanks.” He scratches his cheek. They’ve arrived before the miniature city, the gray buildings on the large table looming before them. “Your rude remarks aside, what do you suppose we should do now?”
Veritas gestures at the glowing portal. “Touch that, and you’ll see.”
Aventurine does as he’s told, and promptly disappears with a puff of smoke. As Veritas looks down at the sandpit, the corner of his mouth quivers, amused at the sight of a tiny, bewildered Aventurine taking in his suddenly large surroundings.
Somehow, he manages to force the smile off his face.
Aventurine waves up at him, the motion of his small arm arching through the air so subtle that Veritas has to squint to see it properly. “Doctor, you’re huge!” His voice is high-pitched and laced with wonder, and Veritas almost, almost, blushes – did he really have to say it like that? “It’s me, down here in the sandpit!”
“I can see that,” Veritas hums.
“Actually, I think I can make this work for us,” he bemuses. “Just find a way to slip me into Sunday’s collar, and I’ll infiltrate the Family just like that.”
Veritas rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Fine,” Aventurine groans. “I was just kidding.”
Then, he’s off. The sight of a small Aventurine running around the sandpit is awfully cute, he finds with a lurch at the bottom of his stomach. When he places the pinball to the sandpit at his request, he almost wants to grab Aventurine and lay him on his palm. He’s so small.
He would definitely fit into his collar. Placing him in his chest window could work too – the thought of Aventurine squirming against his chest is–
[Reminder! Do not continue that thought any further, please. It is unwise.]
Oh, really? he thinks sarcastically, watching Aventurine zapping through the air with the pinball.
[Yes. From how you have acted, I cannot be sure how sincere you are.]
I think I’ve behaved well.
[Your points speak otherwise.]
What are the points, in the first place?
[The points indicate how in-character you are acting. If the points drop to zero, it will result in the same outcome as not succeeding in the IPC’s plan of reclaiming Penacony – in other words, you will be sent back to your original world.]
Not surprising, but nevertheless a depressing thing to be reminded of.
As they’re finally standing before the large doors leading to Sunday’s office, Aventurine returned back to his original size, the sense of foreboding hangs heavily on him.
“It’s a pity you made it out of the sandpit alive,” he says, to which Aventurine huffs.
The grin forming onto his lips is almost fond, and Veritas’ nervousness alleviates. It’s almost as if there’s a shared secret, a mutual understanding, between them.
As he watches Aventurine push the creaking doors open, he clings onto that thought.
*
The dread comes back to him tenfold as Sunday’s gaze flickers between them, his golden eyes filled with contemplation and an unnerving, polite smile on his face.
Veritas trails into the room after Aventurine, and as his eyes lock with Sunday, he gives him a polite nod in return. His heart is beating out of his chest, blood rushing in his ears, and he can only hope that it doesn’t show on his face.
This is the moment of truth.
Sunday is by no means ignorant, and he has no idea what’s going on in the man’s head; his face is completely unreadable.
After an agonizing moment, Sunday turns to Aventurine.
“It seems that my puzzles are too effortless for you, IPC Ambassador,” Sunday says. Veritas almost lets out a sigh of relief, until Sunday glances at him, his eyes flashing. “And you, delegate from the Intelligentsia Guild. Have you enjoyed your stay?”
Veritas’ lips feel dry. Still, he manages a scowl on his face. “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he says, and then, after giving a pointed, bitter look at Aventurine who does not see him, continues. “Not much time for relaxation.”
Sunday smiles. “Of course.”
Then, Veritas is ignored. He’s left to stand in the corner of the room as Sunday continues addressing Aventurine.
Was it that easy?
[Seems like it was. Congratulations from clearing the mission to this point.]
Thank you, Veritas thinks sullenly. Don’t I deserve any points from this?
[No.]
Fuck you.
A part of him feels relieved. Only, it doesn’t get any easier from then on.
He can do nothing but listen to Aventurine’s desperate voice as he’s being controlled by the suffocating energy of the Harmony, all secrets drawn out of him. Veritas’ head throbs by the sheer magnitude of the power and the oppressive atmosphere in the room, and he can only imagine what it feels like for Aventurine, who’s the sole target of the interrogation.
Aventurine’s voice is breathy as he’s struggling to gain control, fighting against a losing battle.
He has it in control, he thinks. He must be, despite it sounding like the exact opposite.
As the interrogation continues and Sunday’s questions and jabs get more personal and malicious, a spark of anger ignites in Verita’s chest. Who does Sunday think he is, asking about Aventurine’s love for his family or his thoughts about destroying the world?
Veritas bites his lip, trying to ignore the burning emotions swirling in his gut. The endless line of books on the shelf, spanning the whole width of the wall, are no distraction.
[Reminder! Do not involve yourself in this.]
I know, Veritas huffs, trailing his finger against the spine of a bulky, brown book.
Finally, the empty suitcase is opened, Veritas’ betrayal is revealed, and his anger shifts to guilt.
He should be glad that Sunday bought his act. Really, the look on his face is almost smug if he weren’t so good at hiding it behind his courteous attitude.
However, none of that matters much.
Aventurine’s glare feels too real for it to be just an act. “Ratio, you wrench,” he spits out, raw and angry, as he turns to Veritas with fire in his eyes. There’s no playfulness in the words.
Veritas feels numb, his heart twisting painfully in his chest, and he turns away.
*
When he meets Aventurine outside the Dewlight Pavilion, he looks like a mess.
A mess who’s doing a very good job at masking it, but a mess nevertheless. His eyes widen when he notices Veritas waiting for him, but as he’s about to say something, a pained look crosses his face.
He clutches his head, concealing his face from Veritas and letting out anguished sighs, trying to gather himself.
Veritas wants to hold him, to soothe the pain he’s going through, but he very well knows that it’s neither the time nor place for that. He’s unable to help him – this is something Aventurine has to endure alone, and that Veritas feels like he’s being pierced by multiple arrows is insignificant, as it will not ease his pain.
Thus, he merely takes a careful step towards him. “You look pale.” His hand twitches at his side, craving to touch. For the first time, he wonders if Aventurine would even want him to. “Is that also a part of your act?”
“Didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show yourself,” Aventurine says, finally looking at him. His eyes flash, his acid words piercing his chest.
He sounds absolutely wrecked, furious at the sight of him.
Veritas takes a deep breath. The cool air soothes his nerves, his cluttered thought arranging themselves into an order that made sense.
After all, it’s all going according to plan: his betrayal, Aventurine’s fury, Sunday’s schemes – no matter how bad it feels right now, it will get better.
The clarity of the situation makes him feel lighter, his shoulders relaxing. Now, he can give all his attention to Aventurine. It’s clear that he still doesn’t fully trust Veritas, but there’s time to change that. He did, after all, plan on making his feeling clear to him.
[Do not attempt to romance Aventurine in this cutscene. It is not tasteful.]
Of course I won’t, he scoffs. I’m still recovering from the meeting. We both are. We’re both a mess.
At first, he thought romancing Aventurine would be easy.
Getting transmigrated into the game as Veritas Ratio was a dream come true. He was offered a chance to interact with his favorite character, and suddenly, he could admire his beauty up close, touch him and give him all the affection he had to offer. He had a poster of him on his bedroom wall in his original world; he knows everything there is to know about him; he could recite his backstory with his eyes closed.
It had started with him trying to fit into a role, being something he thought Veritas Ratio would be, and his shallow thoughts had merely revolved around romancing Aventurine.
Then, as he became Veritas Ratio, his daydreams slowly became tainted with guilt.
Now, it’s not just a game anymore. It feels real, jarring and scary.
Scary how much he truly came to care for Aventurine.
Aventurine’s self-destructiveness, sadness and recklessness are not merely character quirks. He’s human. Veritas is not supposed to know as much about him as he does. He wants to forget everything because it feels like an invasion of privacy, like he’s violating his trust.
He wants Aventurine to open up to him, to hear the things from his very own mouth.
He longs to call him Kakavasha, but of course – he isn’t supposed to know that name.
He wonders whether that name would ever be revealed to him.
So, yes.
Fuck you, System, he thinks. Romancing him like a video game character is out of the question.
As long as Aventurine realizes that he’s not alone, that he’s loved, is enough. Hoping for anything more is ignorant and stupid. If Aventurine does not want him, he’s going to accept it.
[...]
Veritas meets Aventurine’s furious expression with a calm shake of his head.
“I thought this was what we agreed on. Just before we arrived here, I even asked,” he says, words calm and collected. “Just tell me if you can’t hold on any longer.”
Aventurine averts his eyes. “So, the genius of the Council of Mundanites wants to be my undertaker now? My, what an honor.”
“That’s not–”
He closes his mouth as an error sound blares in his head.
[OOC Warning! Veritas Ratio does not show his concern through words, but actions.]
That’s incorrect, he argues back. I don’t hesitate to say what’s on my mind. I don’t hide my feelings, I just express them harshly sometimes.
[...I will let it pass, this time.]
Gently, he places his hand on Aventurine’s shoulder.
Aventurine’s eyes widen at the contact, gaze flickering between Veritas’ face and his hand – first he looks as if he’d shake the hand off, but then, the deep, bitter glint in his eyes shift to something else, the corners of his eyes softening.
[-20 points. Current points: 70. Veritas Ratio does not indulge in casual touch.]
Didn’t you just insist I express my concern through actions instead of words?
To Veritas’ annoyance, the System stays silent.
He can both hear and feel Aventurine’s deep sighs of breath as he’s collecting himself, the concentration of Harmony visibly affecting him. Under his touch, his body is heaving, the warmth seeping into his hand.
“I’m the manager of this task, so it’ll be me to notify of your death to the Strategic Investment Department,” Veritas says, squeezing Aventurine’s shoulder. Then, his voice lowers into a whisper. “Please, do not let it come to that.”
“Well,” Aventurine mutters. He tilts his head, the locks of his soft hair tickling Veritas’ fingers, his earring glinting in the dimness. “Regardless of both of our feelings, I think I’ll be ready to go in seventeen system hours.”
Veritas slides his hand off Aventurine’s shoulder. “How are you planning on completing your task while your hands are tied by the Harmony?”
Aventurine watches as Veritas’ hand falls back to his side, the corners of his mouth twisting.
“It’s going smoothly,” he sighs. He adjusts the collar of his jacket and lets out a light cough, covering his mouth with his fist. “My conversation with Sunday convinced me that there really is a traitor in the Family, and I even managed to recover the gift money. Now, I’m just one step away from victory.”
“Sounds like a very elaborate way of saying that you failed.”
Aventurine smiles at him. “That’s all I can say. Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me.”
Right. Sunday’s still watching them – maybe he shouldn’t have touched Aventurine so casually, just like the System told him not to.
[That’s correct.]
Shut up, please.
It’s not like Sunday is going to burst through the doors and arrest him, in any case. That man is more vain and smug than he anticipated. His worries about him finding out the truth about his true identity had been for nothing.
“Go, do what you must.” Aventurine waves his hand at him. “I look forward to the sight of the IPC fleet surrounding Penacony. You’ve achieved what you desired, haven’t you?”
“That’s,” Veritas hesitates, “true. But what’s your plan?”
“I’m afraid that’s something I cannot say.”
Veritas shakes his head. “Of course.”
The parcel feels heavy in his pocket. He fiddles with it, finally handing it over to Aventurine.
“Take this. Open it when you’re on your last legs. And… Don’t be reckless, I’m expecting you to come back.”
Aventurine traces the edges of the parcel with the tip of his finger, eyeing it curiously. “What’s this? Medical advice?”
“You’ll see,” he says. Aventurine looks up at him, his brows furrowed and mouth pursed, and Veritas nods at him. “Good luck.”
Aventurine opens his mouth, then closes it. “Thank you,” he says, slowly. “It’s almost as if you care for me.”
He does, more than humanely possible. The sight of Aventurine shivering in the cold wind, wrapped up in his coat with his head tilted up at Veritas, makes the corner of his mouth tremble.
Before he can say the words of affection out loud, the System interrupts him.
[Reminder! If you agree, more points will be deducted.]
Veritas’ face twitches.
He nods at Aventurine again and walks away, the tired smile on Aventurine’s face the last thing he sees.
*
After a few system hours, he gives in to the temptation and goes to the place where it all goes down, although he knows that he shouldn’t be here.
In the distance, amidst the smoke, he can see Aventurine’s tall form rising to the skies, his cape flapping behind him in the strong wind. He can barely see him, let alone the Nameless running on the ground, but he cannot go further if he wants to avoid Acheron’s blade.
Thunder rumbles as the stormy night changes to a golden illumination, the sky blanketed by a large, golden dome. The coins start falling, buildings crumbling around him.
A blade glimmers, bright red spark illuminating in the distance, cutting through the smoke.
Soon, it’s the time for Aventurine’s plan to succeed. There would’ve been many other options on discovering the truth about Penacony – whether or not death exists – than sacrificing oneself, but of course a self-destructive gambler would choose the most flashy option of them all, betting his own life on the outcome.
When the slash from Acheron’s sword hits Aventurine, sending him spiraling to the sky, he feels a deep ache in his heart.
The ground grumbles, and he walks away.
Now, it’s up to Aventurine to have the will to wake up.
*
[Congratulations for completing the main quest! 500 points added. Current points: 570.]
[Congratulations! The OOC feature has been unfrozen, thus points will no longer be deducted by OOC actions. Good luck.]
[New item added to inventory: Aventurine’s lucky charm.]
The endless pings of the System are grating against his skull as he’s sitting in the hotel room, head in his hands.
His eyes snap open.
Wait – lucky charm?
He searches through his pockets, and then, his fingers meet with something cool and hard. He digs it out, staring at the coin-like token laying on his palm. Its golden sheen hasn't faded by time, its glimmer still bright.
Why did the System put it into his pocket? It should be with Aventurine, its rightful owner.
The System is silent now, of all times, right when he’s in the need of answers the most.
He glances at Aventurine’s sleeping form in the dreampool, and a deep longing fills his chest. Submerged in the clear water, he’s breathing even and slow. The distraught expression he usually has while asleep has now shifted into an unnatural tranquility, his featured softened by the remnants of Harmony still lingering on him. He has a pulse, although faint.
He hopes that the message Aventurine read in the Primordial Dreamscape was enough to convince him that there are people who care. That Veritas cares.
He and Aventurine are merely business acquaintances. The IPC tends to put them in missions together only because they work so well together, getting good results in whatever task they’re sent on as a pair.
He does not want it to stay that way, to let Aventurine think that all he has are shallow and meaningless connections with people who view him only as a tool to be used.
For Veritas, he’s so much more. His hopeless heart is wishing he’d be more for Aventurine, too.
Fiddling with the token, he stares at Aventurine.
Then, he stirs. His arm twitches against the edge of the pool, the sound of splashing water alerting Veritas.
Adrenaline is rushing through his veins as he jumps up to his feet, the chair almost getting knocked down in his hurry, and swiftly, he stuffs the token back into his pocket.
Aventurine’s eyes examine the room, confusion twisting his features. Then, slowly, he directs his drowsy stare at Veritas. He crawls up to his knees, the water brushing his thighs. “Ratio…?”
Veritas crouches next to him.
Aventurine’s hair is sticking to his forehead. With a disoriented frown on his face, he’s looking at Veritas as if he were a pigment of his imagination, something that shouldn’t be here.
Maybe he shouldn’t be here.
Maybe Aventurine doesn’t even want him to, but it’s no use telling that to Veritas’ overflowing emotions, his wildly beating heart, at seeing him safe.
Veritas wraps his arms around his thin frame, feeling him stiffening in his embrace. Despite the cold water soaking his clothes, he’s warm. Pressing his wet body against his own should feel uncomfortable, but it’s anything but.
Finally, he has him in his arms.
“Gambler,” he whispers against the top of his head. A sweet, mellow scent fills his senses. “Good job.”
Slowly, Aventurine’s hand raises to his back, curling against the back of his shirt and grabbing it like a life-line.
He lets out a thin laugh against his chest, a warm puff of air against his bare skin. “What’s this? You’re not supposed to be here.”
“How so?”
“Our mission is finished already,” Aventurine breathes out.
“I have to see it to the end.” He hugs Aventurine a bit tighter, feeling his body shivering against his. “The preparations for the Charmony Festival have changed drastically due to the Grand Theater being partly destroyed and Sunday having been captured. The rest of the IPC has yet to arrive.”
“Seems like a lot has happened while I’ve,” Aventurine halts, searching for his words, “slumbered.”
“It has.”
“I’m assuming my gamble paid off.”
“It did,” Veritas says. He pulls away, reluctantly and already missing the warmth, to look Aventurine in the eyes. “However, I beg of you – do not do that again.”
“I’m a gambler, as you always keep reminding me.” An exasperated expression crosses his face, but still, he continues fiddling with the edge of Veritas’ robes. “You’re asking for the impossible.”
“Your life is not a bargaining chip.”
Aventurine sighs. “Oh, doctor. It very much is.”
Veritas’ wide palms are still holding his shoulders, and he feels himself gripping him tighter.
Delicately, he removes one hand to reach for the round, golden token in his pocket. As Aventurine frowns, he gestures to him to raise his hand.
Then, he places the token in the middle of his palm.
Aventurine’s eyes widen. In the dim room, the sparse light reflecting from his eyes – cyan, magenta irises lighting up – his face transforms. Disbelieved, he stares at Veritas.
“I found this,” Veritas says. “I’m assuming it’s of relevance to you.”
“How did you know?” he asks, closing his fingers protectively around his lucky charm.
“I’ve seen you fiddling with it.” Which is true. When Aventurine thought he wasn’t looking, he’s seen him staring at it, his eyes lighting up as he’s rolling it in his hand. “That token is important to you, right?”
Aventurine hesitates. “Yes,” he mutters.
“So you see – some things cannot be used as bargaining chips. That token, for one, least of all something as important as human lives. Your life is more valuable than you’ve realized.”
“Comparing me to an old, worthless gold coin, huh,” Aventurine huffs.
“I did not mean it like that.”
Aventurine squeezes his eyes shut. “Sure,” he grits out. “There are lots of things that you don’t mean and that you don’t understand.”
“That is true,” Veritas says. He wraps his hand around Aventurine’s one holding the token, and shakes his head. “If you’re willing to explain, I’m willing to listen.”
Aventurine doesn’t answer, but neither does he back away, running away from the intimacy.
Veritas takes that as a sign to continue. He sweeps Aventurine’s soft hair off his face, and gently, places his lips on his forehead.
“Do not think yourself unworthy,” he says, breathing the words against Aventurine’s warm, balmy skin.
Aventurine shudders as his body slumps against him. He rests his head against Veritas’ chest, letting out a wet laugh. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He wraps his finger around a tuft of Aventurine’s hair, smoothing it between his fingers. “Just saying it as it is.”
The room is silent, if not for Aventurine’s soft breathing tickling against his skin, or the sloshing of the water in the dreampool around his legs. He burrows his fingers into Aventurine’s hair, holding him tight as he pets him, scratching his scalp.
Then, Aventurine places his hands on Veritas’ chest, pushing him away. His eyes are red around the rims.
“Forgive me for getting, uh, emotional.” He’s staring somewhere behind Veritas. The words sound exhausted, embarrassed. “I’m a bit tired.”
Veritas lets go of him. “Of course. You should get out of the pool.”
Aventurine glances at the water around his legs, his trousers sticking to his skin. Slowly, he climbs over the edge of the pool, droplets of water hitting the floor as he does so, and Veritas gives him space.
Both of them now on their feet, a stiff silence surrounds them.
With shaky legs, Aventurine makes his way to the door. “I should get going now,” he mumbles. “Lots of stuff to go through. Reporting to Jade and all that.”
Veritas nods. “Of course.”
It feels like he’s repeating the same things over and over, but Aventurine doesn’t seem to mind.
He nods at him in return, and then, Veritas is once again standing in the room, alone.
He sighs.
The warmth of Aventurine’s body lingers on in his hands. He tries memorizing it, storing the feeling in a special place at the back of his mind.
It felt nice, he thinks, a soft smile forming on his face.
*
“I suppose I’m on an extended leave now,” Aventurine says as he grabs the fancy drink the bartender gives him, nodding at him in thanks. “Do you want to go somewhere? I want to visit the Golden Hour again. I didn’t have the time to play the slots there.”
Veritas stirs his own drink, pink liquid adorned with a slice of lemon – a drink ordered to him by Aventurine. “That’s fine to me.”
“Really?” Aventurine smiles at him. “You want to see me emptying all the machines of their prizes?”
“Not really,” he answers. He takes a sip of his drink. “Truth to be told, that seems both unfair and a bit boring. Also, this drink is far too sweet to my taste.”
Aventurine purses his mouth. “Want me to order another?”
“No need,” he says, waving his hand in dismissal. If he lets Aventurine spoil him too much, he’s afraid he will never stop.
Instead of being at the Radiant Feldspar, the elegant airship hovering in the skies above, the thought of being alone with Aventurine had sounded more pleasing. And he guesses Aventurine feels the same, as he’s happily tapping his fingers on the counter and taking in the pleasant, calm atmosphere of the lobby.
Veritas is, too, feeling at ease. After the adrenaline of trying to complete the mission had left his body, he’s left with his heart light and thoughts empty – empty, if not for the happiness he feels from just being able to spend time with Aventurine.
Thank heavens there aren’t any more moronic missions to deal with. He’s not sure he’d able to handle any more of those.
A mechanical ping sounds in his head.
[Sub-mission: Confess to Aventurine. Points from clearing: 200. Penalty: ?.]
Veritas’ eye twitches.
He was speaking too soon, it seems – that, or the System is purposefully being a pain in his ass.
Where’s this coming from? Didn’t you want me to restrain my feelings?
And what punishment?
[A new side-plot has been discovered. The fans will love this. Additionally, the punishment will remain a secret, as to motivate you to complete this mission.]
Been discovered, Veritas frowns. Wasn’t it my idea to begin with?
[I will refrain from commenting.]
Of course you will.
Aventurine crosses his legs, his shoulders relaxing. He’s brushing lazy strokes along the edge of his glass, ignorant to Veritas’ inner battle.
How was he supposed to confess?
Aventurine is like a wild, wounded animal when it comes to feelings. If he just outright told him how he feels, he would only push him farther away from him, even if Aventurine did reciprocate.
Veritas takes a deep breath. The aftertaste of the drink is sugary on his tongue, the artificial sweetness rushing to his head. “When do you want to go?”
“You really want to accompany me?” Aventurine asks, surprised. “I thought you had other tasks to attend to.”
“I do, but I’d rather…”
“Rather what?”
Veritas averts his eyes, flush rising to his cheeks. “I’d rather be with you. I quite enjoy your company.”
Aventurine blinks. “You’d… Rather be with me?” He snorts out a laugh. “What, is your job that boring?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do not.”
Veritas grabs his hand. He hopes it doesn’t feel as clammy as he’s fearing it to be. “Go on a date with me.”
Aventurine’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, and the only thing leaving his mouth is a simple, “ah.”
“Ah, he says.” Veritas rolls his eyes. Blood is rushing in his ears and he’s hit with a wave of dizziness, his poor heart working overtime. “You just asked me out not even a minute ago. You reap what you sow.”
“I didn’t,” Aventurine stammers, frowning at their interlaced hands, “or well, yes I did. But I didn’t exactly mean it like that.”
Veritas pulls his hand away. “Very well, then. Please forget I said anything before I make a bigger fool out of myself.”
Aventurine twists his hand in his lap, a complicated expression flashing across his face. The bartender comes to stand before them, but sensing the weird atmosphere he quickly escapes, only collecting a couple of glasses as he hurries away.
Suddenly, Aventurine gets up. His chin raised, he points at Veritas’ drink. “Are you finished with that?”
“Yes,” Veritas says, gulping the rest of his drink down.
“Then, let’s go.” He puts his hands on his hips. “You better be impressed by my gambling prowess. It’s one of my most attractive qualities.”
Slowly, Ratio rises to his feet. Aventurine walks off, and he follows after him.
Say, System – wasn’t that a confession enough?
[To put it simply, no. The fans need a more heartfelt confession. A kiss, preferably.]
Veritas bites his lip, his face heating up as he trails after Aventurine, staring at his back.
He’s about to combust just from the thought of kissing him. He would probably die if he actually did that.
[Do not be a loser, Veritas Ratio. It is unbecoming of you.]
*
Just as they both anticipated, Aventurine wins the grand prize from every slot machine in the square. The never-ending night wraps them in its glow, the smell of grease from the food stands and the racket of the rolling slot machine numbing his senses.
An endless stream of tokens is tumbling down from the machine. Aventurine grins at it in glee, dusting off his hands. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
Veritas raises his eyebrows. “No, I guess not.”
“But I have to admit, that wasn’t as exciting as I hoped it’d be,” Aventurine says, his face falling. “For a so-called date, I was hoping for something more… monumental.”
Hearing him say the word date so casually makes him smile, a giddy warmth filling his chest.
[OOC level: high. Please ensure that you’re acting within character.]
Weren’t you supposed to stay quiet about my OOC behavior after that function got unfrozen?
[No. I merely said that OOC actions will no longer deduct your points, nothing more.]
Well, shut up, then. There’s nothing OOC about me smiling at the man I love.
[I will not be silenced. Your smiles should be rare, savored occurrences, not something to be flaunted about.]
That makes no sense.
He clears his throat, feeling flustered under Aventurine’s intent stare. “And I was hoping we could discuss something,” he says.
Aventurine cocks his head. “What?”
He’s still wishing for a better ending for Aventurine, an ending in which he’s not a piece for someone else to use, but instead was the maker of his own destiny, not chained to anyone else’s will.
He deserves that. The IPC brought a sort of stability in his life, of course, but is it worth it if he’s still for someone else to command? If he’s still unhappy?
“What are you going to do after this?” Veritas asks.
“We’ll see what the rest of the Stonehearts want to do with me.” He shrugs. Tossing a token in his hand, he starts strolling away, and Veritas follows him. “Most of them are most likely not that pleased with what I’ve done, destroying my cornerstone and all.”
“So,” Veritas murmurs. “You wish to remain with the IPC.”
“Of course. There’s not much else for me.”
“There is.”
Aventurine lets out a dry laugh. “Are you willing to be my savior, doctor?”
“Of course not.” They stop at a quiet corner, the clamor of the festive square merely a faint background noise. Veritas turns to Aventurine. “The only one able to save yourself is you. I’m only wishing for you to think about it. This… death, of yours is an opportunity. You have a decision to make, but whatever you choose, I’m going to respect it.”
“An opportunity, huh,” Aventurine muses. “I’m already up to my chest in the IPC’s mess, so I don’t think it’s up to me to choose anything.”
“I didn’t take you to be so close-minded.”
“I’m not–”
“You are. I do not mean it to offend. Please, you should,” Veritas says, “respect yourself more.”
Aventurine stares at him.
“I respect and admire you. I cannot fathom why or how you’re able to harbor such self-hatred for yourself.” With a deep sigh, Veritas leans against the wall. “You do not need to say anything, whether you reciprocate my foolish feelings or not, but I want you to understand that I do have the feelings.”
Aventurine’s shoulders seem to hunch. “Feelings,” he repeats, rolling the word around his mouth. “That’s nice.”
“As I said, you do not need to say anything.”
“Maybe, but that seems awfully impolite.” He lets out a shuddering sigh. He leans against the wall next to Veritas, their shoulders bumping. “But it is a lot to take in, doctor.”
“You do not need to believe me right away.”
Aventurine wets his lips. He’s staring into the distance, until finally, he squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t think it’s wise.”
“Why?” Veritas asks, his heart dropping.
“I’m… Well, I’m me. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Veritas is at a loss of words. He did anticipate this, but still, it hurts. He craves to be trusted by Aventurine, the feeling ingrained within him, and the rejection hurts.
Just as Veritas is about to open his mouth, Aventurine beats him to it.
“But, well, sure,” he says, huffing. “Why the hell not.”
Veritas blinks. “Excuse me?”
Aventurine shrugs. Then, he leans closer to Veritas, caging him between his arms. His breath tickles against his skin as he closes in on him, their faces mere inches away. “I’m not that wise.”
Veritas’ eyes widen, and then, Aventurine is kissing him.
His lips are soft against his as he presses Veritas against the wall, kissing him like his life depends on it. His fingers tangle themselves into Veritas hair, tugging at the strands of his hair almost painfully.
For a first kiss it is not perfect, but still, it makes Veritas feel hot, mushy, his soul nearly leaving his body.
Finally, Aventurine pulls away. “Loving me is not going to be easy,” he says, his eyes trailing Veritas’ face, glinting with warmth. “You do know that?”
“It’s not my intention to make my life easy,” he says, breathlessly. “For you, I’d do anything.”
[Congratulations for completing the sub-mission! 200 points added. Current points: 770.]
*
Half a year later, Veritas invites him for a tour around the Herta Space Station.
As they arrive, jumping off the small spaceship to a solid ground, Veritas stops him by grabbing his hand.
“Hm,” Aventurine glances back at him. “What is it?”
He cradles Aventurine’s jaw into his palm, softly stroking the skin, and leans in.
The System pings.
[OOC level: high. Veritas Ratio does not indulge in PDA. As you are a couple now, romantic actions are understandable and even condoned, but please stay within the limits of–]
He tunes the mechanical buzz out and presses a soft kiss on Aventurine’s lips.
He knows himself better than the System, so it can kiss his ass.
What he wishes the most is to see the surprised look in Aventurine’s eyes, slowly shifting into a look of acceptance, of happiness.
Before them, someone coughs.
The Trailblazer blinks at them, a deep furrow in their brows. He’s staring at their faces, then at Veritas’ arm wrapped firmly around Aventurine’s waist, until finally it lands on their faces again.
“You’re, uh,” they stammer. “Huh?”
“We’ve arrived, yes,” Veritas says. “You’re as insightful as ever, Trailblazer. Now, could you grab our suitcases and be done with it.”
“Yes?”
Aventurine snickers as they watch the Trailblazer scurrying off.
“I’ve never seen them at a loss for words,” Aventurine says. Gently, he pats Veritas’ head. “Seems like your display of affection scared them off.”
[Yes, it even scared me.]
Veritas huffs, leaning into Aventurine’s touch. “It was worth it.”