Just as he had done months ago, Ardyn awakens upon a low couch in a living room, wearing linen robes, perhaps provided by a hospital, and draped in a blanket. His belongings, from the clothes in which he had perished to his blade, are set upon the table, with his signature hat set on top.
Somnus enters the room from a set of doors to the side, which opens to a garden with which Ardyn may be familiar. When they close, the scent of sylleblossoms in their bloom lingers. Spotting that the other man is awake, Somnus stills in his tracks, then takes a few steps forward. His grim expression slackens to one of quiet reserve.
This is his brother, alive ("alive") once more-- by Somnus' assistance, and after Ardyn had committed something that brought so much strife to Avalon.
"It is not so disorienting as one might expect. Dying, that is."
They are perhaps one of the few who can speak of experiencing it more than once.
Opening his eyes like this was not what Ardyn expected: even though he did not plan to stay a ghost for long (surely there would be death mages he could trick into resurrecting him), this is far sooner than anything he could have planned. The feeling of a mortal body is now strangely uncomfortable, the weight of it, the dizziness after waking, even the feel of cloth against his body. It's... strange. And there is a scent...
Sylleblossoms. Why? How?
Suddenly, his thoughts coalesce into remembrance and understanding. Somnus. Somnus! Somnus, alive once more somehow, bringing him back, meddling again! White-hot fury floods Ardyn's mind, so strong this time that he can't move, can't even speak with the tension of it; it feels like his entire body is filled with acid. But there is a difference between this and the way he usually feels; for some reason, right now there is a feeling of... frustration.
Though in reality barely a few moments pass, Ardyn feels as though his thoughts fall into place like neat little bricks, step by step. Somnus is alive: that means he found someone to revive him. It's unlikely, but not impossible for Somnus to have made some manner of friends here. Somnus knows that it was Ardyn who opened the gates to the Underworld. Ardyn himself is alive now. The price of a resurrection is another life.
He's alive now. By his brother's hand, by the hand of someone Ardyn took some pleasure in killing, even if it did not bring him quite the satisfaction he'd hoped to find, did not fill the yawning void within him. It makes no sense. No, it makes no sense, none of it, none at all.
Ardyn clenches his fists at hearing Somnus's voice until his knuckles are white, resolutely staring at the ceiling only. There are many things he could say in reply, mocking and disdainful. But the anger and frustration are so deep that Ardyn does not even find the strength to hide behind his usual theatrics.
"What," he manages to hiss through gritted teeth, "is wrong with you?"
Somnus sits opposite of him, watching the other as he works through his waking moments. The snarl, the fists clenching white, the accusation.
It is a fair question, given what he knows of the other being responsible for the most recent events. Somnus' actions are almost always purposeful, doing little of what is unnecessary and adhering to what is. There's an additional reason for his action today, however, one that is personal... one that he does not divulge.
Rather than answer what's a rhetorical question (or even if not rhetorical, there are many things Ardyn may think is wrong with him, and Somnus knows that none of Somnus' answers or guesses would suffice or satisfy), he simply observes:
Ardyn's breath comes in short, sharp hisses. For a moment he tries to push himself up on his elbows, then gives up on the idea - it would only make him have to look at Somnus again. And right now he doesn't know what he'd do then: right now, Ardyn is furious enough to be pathetic with it. He knows he'd be almost nothing more than a mindless beast if he was forced to face his brother, and he does not want that further humiliation.
"How astute," he growls out. "And why am I alive?"
There is a practical answer Somnus may give, that of all off-worlders being more useful alive to the cause of restoring the time-space catastrophe-- and in doing so, they may return to their own realm sooner than later. He is certain that neither that nor a more sincere answer would satisfy the other.
Somnus' expression is impervious to the ire directed at him, and he waits a few moments to pass. This hatred is a mere drop compared to all the wrath Ardyn truly has for him, and he has all the reason to express it. All Somnus can do, in turn, is allow it to be.
Ardyn is silent for a little while, perhaps eerily so. Then the laughter comes, quiet and deranged, the laughter of someone whose grasp on his (arguable) sanity slipping.
"I expected you to stay dead," he whispers in response between his bouts of giggling. Indeed, he did not think this far, did not think that Somnus would be revived by someone else in turn and meddle in Ardyn's affairs. Again. Though it had been rather shallower than he'd wanted, killing Somnus had brought him some measure of satisfaction, as did opening the gates to the Underworld... but now the satisfaction is gone, replaced with uncomfortable frustration - and underneath that, the fear and disgust at the thought of having to continue his existence. All he'd wanted was to smash the world and go to rest somewhere, but now he's dragged back, forced to face some kind of consequences. Hasn't it been enough?
"Why are you alive, Somnus?" Ardyn murmurs as he pushes himself up weakly, though still pointedly not looking at his brother. "Why can't you be a good boy for once and stay dead, hmm? Why are you here, Somnus? Why are you still meddling? Why am I not rid of you yet?"
By degrees, his words come faster, his voice still quiet and too even to be genuine, yet another sign of a crack running across his psyche.
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for ardyn @problemsoncauthess
Somnus enters the room from a set of doors to the side, which opens to a garden with which Ardyn may be familiar. When they close, the scent of sylleblossoms in their bloom lingers. Spotting that the other man is awake, Somnus stills in his tracks, then takes a few steps forward. His grim expression slackens to one of quiet reserve.
This is his brother, alive ("alive") once more-- by Somnus' assistance, and after Ardyn had committed something that brought so much strife to Avalon.
"It is not so disorienting as one might expect. Dying, that is."
They are perhaps one of the few who can speak of experiencing it more than once.
no subject
Sylleblossoms. Why? How?
Suddenly, his thoughts coalesce into remembrance and understanding. Somnus. Somnus! Somnus, alive once more somehow, bringing him back, meddling again! White-hot fury floods Ardyn's mind, so strong this time that he can't move, can't even speak with the tension of it; it feels like his entire body is filled with acid. But there is a difference between this and the way he usually feels; for some reason, right now there is a feeling of... frustration.
Though in reality barely a few moments pass, Ardyn feels as though his thoughts fall into place like neat little bricks, step by step. Somnus is alive: that means he found someone to revive him. It's unlikely, but not impossible for Somnus to have made some manner of friends here. Somnus knows that it was Ardyn who opened the gates to the Underworld. Ardyn himself is alive now. The price of a resurrection is another life.
He's alive now. By his brother's hand, by the hand of someone Ardyn took some pleasure in killing, even if it did not bring him quite the satisfaction he'd hoped to find, did not fill the yawning void within him. It makes no sense. No, it makes no sense, none of it, none at all.
Ardyn clenches his fists at hearing Somnus's voice until his knuckles are white, resolutely staring at the ceiling only. There are many things he could say in reply, mocking and disdainful. But the anger and frustration are so deep that Ardyn does not even find the strength to hide behind his usual theatrics.
"What," he manages to hiss through gritted teeth, "is wrong with you?"
no subject
It is a fair question, given what he knows of the other being responsible for the most recent events. Somnus' actions are almost always purposeful, doing little of what is unnecessary and adhering to what is. There's an additional reason for his action today, however, one that is personal... one that he does not divulge.
Rather than answer what's a rhetorical question (or even if not rhetorical, there are many things Ardyn may think is wrong with him, and Somnus knows that none of Somnus' answers or guesses would suffice or satisfy), he simply observes:
"You are alive."
no subject
"How astute," he growls out. "And why am I alive?"
no subject
Somnus' expression is impervious to the ire directed at him, and he waits a few moments to pass. This hatred is a mere drop compared to all the wrath Ardyn truly has for him, and he has all the reason to express it. All Somnus can do, in turn, is allow it to be.
"You expect I would have left you for dead."
no subject
"I expected you to stay dead," he whispers in response between his bouts of giggling. Indeed, he did not think this far, did not think that Somnus would be revived by someone else in turn and meddle in Ardyn's affairs. Again. Though it had been rather shallower than he'd wanted, killing Somnus had brought him some measure of satisfaction, as did opening the gates to the Underworld... but now the satisfaction is gone, replaced with uncomfortable frustration - and underneath that, the fear and disgust at the thought of having to continue his existence. All he'd wanted was to smash the world and go to rest somewhere, but now he's dragged back, forced to face some kind of consequences. Hasn't it been enough?
"Why are you alive, Somnus?" Ardyn murmurs as he pushes himself up weakly, though still pointedly not looking at his brother. "Why can't you be a good boy for once and stay dead, hmm? Why are you here, Somnus? Why are you still meddling? Why am I not rid of you yet?"
By degrees, his words come faster, his voice still quiet and too even to be genuine, yet another sign of a crack running across his psyche.