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“For you to introduce yourself as my subordinate… are you trying to pin the blame on a certain someone?”
The voice echoing within the chamber of the Dendro Archon was both soothing and as creepy as it could get. However, seated on a chair with his hands folded on his lap, Pantalone merely smiled throughout their conversation.
“My, it is merely an act of self-preservation. To expose my true title would only divert their attention from your magnificent display of wisdom, would it not?” he offered with his eyes closed, moving to pick up a cup of water on the table. Even that act seemed to catch the attention of his invisible conversation partner.
“Is that water?” sounded a chuckle. Dottore was mocking him despite being dead, disembodied, and quite literally stuck in the very foundation of this world.
“What a magnificent observation. Shouldn’t you be monologuing on and on about why you are doing this?” Pantalone evaded his question, still smiling, taking another sip. He would be lying if he said it was easy to keep up a front – not when he was feeling so thirsty, and at the same time so nauseous…
“The richest man of Snezhnaya barges into the abandoned Sumeru City, takes up temporary residence in the Dendro Archon’s quarters, has his subordinates place chairs and a table… only for him to drink water. Forgive my insolence.”
Now Dottore was just taunting him on purpose. What an arrogant man.
“Let me remind you which one of us went ahead and died in Nod-Krai just to get access to Irminsul,” the alive man huffed in amusement, setting down the empty cup. His lips were still a bit dry and cracked, despite not even being in the cold climate of Snezhnaya. Dehydration sucked.
“My my, someone is being defensive today. Any special reason as to why?” his partner in crime (and partner in a more private sense) continued prying in his annoyingly curious, yet sweet voice – feigning innocence. Pantalone knew very well that he would use any small weakness of his to taunt and annoy him.
“Do explain your reasoning behind all your prying,” he challenged the bodiless voice in the air. His loyal Fatui soldiers were waiting outside, so it was in private. If anyone happened to listen in… well… Dottore was never known for treating his subordinates with respect, right? Pantalone had always been respectful and seemingly nice… but as of late, he had become a bit more… let’s say… short-tempered.
“Allow me, then,” sounded Dottore, his tone of voice conveying just how smug he was. Probably was smirking to himself inside of the Ley Lines.
“Drinking water on such a special occasion.”
“You always chastise me for not staying hydrated enough.”
“Mhm. You haven’t been smoking for weeks.”
“How would you arrive at that conclusion? You’ve been quite dead the past few weeks.”
“Irminsul knows everything – keep up with me, dear Feofan.”
“...Very well. Continue.”
“I perceived you being quite uncouth to a younger soldier earlier. Not the type of behaviour a gentleman in your position would exhibit.”
“This is a delicate operation. Your survival depends on me stalling a while, no?”
“Oho? Well, you’re absolutely right. The fact this young one was wearing Bulle Fruit perfume will be the deciding factor between life and death in the upcoming battle.”
“…”
Once more, Pantalone couldn’t see it, but Dottore was smirking from ear to ear – watching his partner’s smile twitching ever so slightly, as did his eyebrows. Oh, he was getting under his skin today, wasn’t he.
“Would you like me to go on? I’ve been observing quite diligently, my dear Feofan.”
“...Alright, I understand.”
Without another word, Pantalone pulled a small linen bag out of his coat pocket, holding it up for Dottore to ‘see’. It wasn’t necessary per se, but it added to the dramatic flair of the moment – the Sumerians would barge in sooner or later, and their chat before the final fight would be interrupted indefinitely.
Depending on whether or not Dottore would emerge victoriously, this could be their last chat ever.
Slender fingers untangled the strings of the pouch, carefully prying the opening open. He reached in with two fingers and pulled a long white stick out. With his other hand resting on his lap, he held it up for the other to see.
“You are ‘The Doctor’ – what do you make of this?”
For a moment, there was total silence. Feofan could feel his heartbeat going faster than before – a slight bout of anxiety coursing through his veins. He held his breath in anticipation of what the good doctor would say in response.
He flinched slightly when a distorted chuckle echoed through the chamber.
“My my… I needn’t worry about catching that particular disease from you, then.”
Slowly, Pantalone’s lips curled into a slight smile. He lowered his hand with the test back on his lap, holding it safe and sound now – right before his unremarkable seeming body.
“Congratulations, Il Dottore.”
Feofan’s dark, amethyst irises gazed upon the seat of the Dendro Archon with a hint of kindness – as if his conversation partner was seated upon it this very moment.
“Your experiment was a success.”
What a corny line that one was. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been fretting about this problem for a few weeks now… how to deliver the news, given their current ‘unique’ circumstances regarding their separation…
“You are a sneaky one, Feofan. How long have you been keeping this a secret?” Dottore asked him with an almost warm-sounding tone, still warped with hints of insanity. That one would never leave him, no matter how many segments he made.
“A few weeks. You tell me – how long ago was it?” he teased him back, relaxing in his chair now that he had finally delivered the news. Despite the violent circumstances they were in right now, he felt relieved and happy.
“Mh… you encountered ‘me’ before ‘I’ departed to Nod-Krai, so… presumably 14 weeks ago.”
As he said so, Feofan let one of his hands wander up from his lap to rest on his hidden belly. Wearing a coat had many advantages… to keep out the cold, to appear mysterious… and to hide a pregnancy throughout all its stages.
How ingenious.
“Ah, if only my other segments were still around… I would love to see the look of defeat on their faces,” Dottore laughed now, seeming elated that this very special experiment succeeded – right before he was about to embark on another dangerous one. One he might not make it out of.
Pantalone gave off a slight sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Your eternal rivalry with yourself is always exhausting to me. Your experiment probably succeeded because there was only one of you.”
“Oho? Don’t be coy with me. I remember quite well how much you liked collaborating with three versions of myself at the same time.”
Heat spread on Feofan’s face, causing him to avert it to the side with a dignified cough to gloss over that fact. To his dismay, Dottore kept on laughing…
“Well, this circumstance explains your peculiar behaviour now. I can’t wait to watch how much it will affect you in the coming months. How long can you hide your pregnancy from the other Harbingers, I wonder?”
Dottore was talking about the future… about being there to witness it…
He shouldn’t be feeling that way, but Pantalone couldn’t shake the dread settling within his stomach. Disappointment… was hard to ignore when it was on the horizon.
Fate would catch up to them inevitably.
“Ah, what a gloomy expression you’re wearing. Don’t tell me you have no faith in me?” Dottore sounded almost disappointed, yet in a playful manner. To him, the threat of death meant nothing.
After all, ‘he’ had died about seven times already. What was one more to him?
“Let’s just say it is always necessary to watch the market carefully in times of tension,” Pantalone murmured, tracing the rim of his empty glass with his finger. With his eyes open, he was easy to read.
Then again, Dottore had never struggled to understand what was going on inside of his head. Power of observation came easy to someone who had lived for at least 400 years.
“I am not in the habit of making promises,” Dottore sounded. Feofan just sighed and shook his head.
“I am well aware of that fact. Do not treat me like a child.”
Silence. Uncomfortable, even.
Pantalone didn’t like it, but he was starting to get a bit more defensive the further along he was in his pregnancy. For now, it was still bearable (the morning sickness was awful) but if people kept getting on his nerves, there’d be a body sooner or later.
His partner was no exception. As much as he cherished his open insanity, he’d best be careful with his temper. If this was the last time they ever conversed with each other, he’d better leave a lasting impression. Otherwise…
“Can you even raise a child by yourself?” came the challenge he had been waiting for. Feofan felt a vein on his temple pulsing with suppressed anger.
“I am the richest man of Snezhnaya. There is nothing I cannot accomplish.”
“Does that apply to a dwindling lifespan too?”
Silence once more.
His nails nervously started to scratch over the smooth surface finalof his chair, eager to leave lasting marks; anything to let the world know he once… existed.
“If I perish, so does the elixir of immortality. With your remaining stash, I’d say… you have a few years at best. And then what?”
What are you saying?
That’s all Feofan could think of right now, eyes closed, staring ahead without replying to his provoking statement.
That it was a mistake I got pregnant after all?
“It would seem… that her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, will gain another devoted soldier in the future, then.”
He spoke those words, but they were void of any feelings or loyalty. Spoken like someone who feigned his position his entire life to keep on going. Whatever opportunity would come by, he’d take it – be it becoming someone’s lab rat, to becoming one of the Harbingers… even without a Vision.
“Oh, so we’re not even bothering with a name, then?”
This time, Pantalone balled his fists up tightly. So much so that his fingernails pierced his frail skin. Any more, and he’d start bleeding.
“Why are you saying that?” he finally spoke up, raising his gaze up to the ceiling. Dottore was everywhere, and yet nowhere at the same time. All around him… but out of reach. Perhaps forever.
“Why would you spend our final moments together belittling and bemoaning everything I say to you in confidence?”
He didn’t want to sound so distraught, but his hormones were getting the better of him. It was so, so hard to keep his cool when… he knew he was about to become a single parent to a child, that would sooner or later become an orphan at a very young age.
How could he not sink into despair when he thought about the future of his yet unborn child, safely cradled within his womb? Witnessing its father defying fate just for the sake of it?
Feofan lowered his gaze and kept his hands folded on his lap. He tried so hard to contain his emotions, to not cry in front of the man whom he had fallen in love with. Showing weakness in front of Dottore was just an invitation for cruelty; who was he to expect sympathy and kindness?
“I am saying these things because you are clearly not expecting me to win.”
Pantalone stopped himself from almost sobbing, slowly placing a hand over his mouth to keep it in. Dottore could see it all – see him in the entirety of his frail, pregnant being.
“And in the event I do come to perish…”
The seated Harbinger pressed his eyes shut.
“Let’s call them Zandar.”
He did not expect that answer – so much so that he sob-laughed, wiping over his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. No tears could ever be shed; not yet. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
Snezhnaya would never believe in tears.
“Why do you think you’d get to name them?” he replied with a shaky smile, easing up when he heard his partner laughing too. That was better – Dottore saw him at his weakest right now, and he wasn’t using it to make fun of him.
Perhaps… this warped, doomed love they felt for each other was true after all.
“Because of my most important role in developing this experiment, of course. Why would I not get to name the result of our little experiment?” Dottore hummed, which calmed Feofan down considerably. Perhaps he was saying these things so Pantalone would get a chance to calm down before he made a fool out of himself.
Weakness was a death sentence for a Harbinger.
“And my contributions to this project won’t count towards a name?” the pregnant man finally responded with a slight, shaky smile. No tears were within his eyes – he had successfully managed to will them away.
Now was not a moment for tears.
“Hmmm… then, what are you proposing?”
For a moment, the soothing silence of the Sanctuary of Surasthana encompassed them. Everything seemed to be so right, and yet so wrong at the same time:
A god residing outside of her own domain; and a heretic taking her place.
If Zandik succeeded… how would the fate of this world change?
“Should our child be born a boy, then I will call him Zandar.”
“Mhh… then, I presume, you’ve thought about a name for a girl?”
As Feofan leaned back and closed his eyes, a hand rested on his flat stomach – protecting what was yet to come.
Hopefully, Dottore would be there to welcome their little experiment to the world when the time was ripe.
“I was thinking Sarah.”
---
“Goodbye, Feofan. This time, that’s what it truly is.”
How warm everything around him felt. Irminsul, aflame… what true heresy he was beholding in that very moment.
Their last moment.
“And don’t I know it. Goodbye… Zandik.”
Faint laughter, a heretic embracing his last moments alfinalive in a world that would always reject him.
He had found solace in a singular place – and now, he was ready to sacrifice everything, every part of himself, to finish his final experiment. His final venture into the domain others would call godhood.
Now it was over. Feofan could hear him crumbling within the wind, to be carried away to a place of… nothingness – for the Doctor had died with the last remains of a corrupted Irminsul.Ill dott
Would he ever be granted revival under the new Irminsul the Dendro Archon had created?
“...Hm. It does not matter to people like us, does it?” Feofan murmured softly, one hand on his flat stomach.
One experiment… was left in his hands.
Actually… two.
With a soft laugh, Feofan carefully slipped something warm, something burning into his pocket – and began his long, long journey back to Snezhnaya.
Two experiments.
One in seeing whether Zandik’s one and only child would receive the name he had picked out for them-
And the other…
Whether godhood could be so simply taken from another being; and whether the burning flames of resurrection would be enough to bring back a heretic.
“Remember, Zandik – I never forgive a debt owed. Through death and rebirth, the poor heretic toils… ironic, isn’t it?”
For death will not stand between us; you will pay me back tenfold of what you owe.
Such is the world that I desire.