[Text]

[silent_king]

In times of darkness and chaos, Dressrosa's doors open for all of the lost and weary. If you are in need of medical care, food, protection or rescue, you need just ask. And one of our airships will come for you.

All are welcome. All are valuable.

Comments

[callada]

[It's hard to imagine any version of himself that would willingly dress like that, but apparently what does he know? Even for a formal occasion it just seems... gaudy. Excessive. And he's never been prone to excess. Leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

The makeup is in the style he used to wear when staying with his brother. Interesting that this version of himself kept it while king - or maybe, if his Doflamingo died, maybe it's a tribute. He'll have to ask. For now he stands, wedges his bottle into the sand beside the rock, and takes a few hesitant steps forward. Should he bow? Salute? This is a king, after all, even if it's himself. Kind of. But he ends up doing neither as instead he's distracted by the writing. Is he really mute or is this part of an act? It's funny, seeing himself as probably the least trustworthy person he could run across.]

Yes. Nice to meet you in person, your majesty.

[He looks so... slender. Delicate. Do they even share the same build? Is it just an illusion created by the clothing? God this is weird.]

[silent_king]

[Rosinante is still struggling with how large, how masculine this man looks compared to him. His own body has been shaped for a purpose, his looks altered for a goal. But he's looking at a mirror of what he'd look like most likely if he couldn't manipulate cells. Did he really ever look like this? He can't remember at all. And he's dressed so simply too.

Is he really him, from another world?

He doesn't trust him one bit at this point. How can he, when he's so different? But he's still pleased enough to meet him, someone who at least shares some of his goals and traits.

"Just Rosinante. It's good to meet you too."

He stares again, fragile long fingers fumbling a little with the notepad and the parasol. He finally settles with using magic to hold the parasol up and over him, he really isn't able to focus on holding both.

"Can I join you?"]

[callada]

[Whoa. His eyes are drawn like magnets to the floating parasol. Very cool! He smiles at that, and it brightens at the request as he looks over the note.]

Yeah, please. Come on over.

[Sand is extremely difficult to walk in and the first thing he does as he takes a step back toward his seat is misjudge how his foot will slide in it. He's fortunate he didn't stumble right into his double when going to greet him. This particular misstep flings him right onto his back, dumping him in the sand with a surprising thud. Why is it that the stuff is so soft underfoot and so hard on his back? Ugh. He sits up and shakes sand out of his hair, then springs back up onto his feet and sits on the big porous black rock that's so nicely shaded. Room for two, though there are others around as well.

He'd offer the guy a drink if he had a second, but he doesn't. What he does have is this mango, which he picks back up from where he left it on the rock, and his scavenged knife he ripped off one of the pirates on Sabaody. He lifts them both in his doppelganger's direction.]

Want some mango?

[silent_king]

[That little bit of brightness, the smile makes Rosinante smile in response. He's relaxing a little now, and the fact that he's been allowed to join him makes it all the better. So he follows, happily, until his counterpart finds himself on his back. Oh, he's like that. If they're both clumsy, this could be disastrous. So he takes special care to settle down safely, using his magic to sort of stabilize him as he sits down. It kept his feet safe in the sand, but he really is using it too much today.

Oh, mango. That sounds great.

He looks excited at the offer of the mango, and holds up the note.

"Please."

He hasn't eaten in a while, honestly. It's probably been too long, but when his mind wanders basic needs usually go unmet. So he's not going to turn down a piece of fresh fruit. He works to close the parasol, and manages to smack himself in the face with it hard. All of his magic focus was about keeping him from falling in the sand, or slipping on something, and he'd forgotten to watch out for the umbrella at all.

He just sighs, and tosses it to the side. He'll deal with it later.]

[callada]

[The thwack draws his attention immediately away from the fruit he was about to slice. He finds an odd sort of relief in seeing that this version of him shares that same misfortune - it's something they can commiserate over, maybe. Mostly it's just that someone else understands what it's like to be so accident-prone.

But.] Ow-

[His thumb stings, so he redirects his attention to his hand where, in his negligence, he seems to have cut himself. Whoops! Well, the mango has been thankfully spared any accidental bleeding but he makes a face and sticks this thumb in his mouth for a second. Hm. Should have grabbed some bandages but instead he leans over to pluck a nearby leaf and press it to the injury so it will seal quicker.]

... Here, maybe you should just serve yourself.

[So he flips the knife in his right hand, hilt facing toward the other Rosinante, and passes it over, to be followed by the fruit.]

1/2 wow mango leads to tldr

[silent_king]

[Oh fuck, why did it come to this? Such a stupid, simple thing. Something that anyone anywhere can do, even children can pick up a knife and cut a bite of food for themselves. That's something basic, something in the general survival skills that keep people functional. And he knows how to use knives, he's capable of that sort of basic work. It's not like his hands won't work, that they won't grasp and hold and do what he desires. It's so simple of a motion, and he wants to go through and just do it. Just hold the knife, take the fruit, and cut a piece for himself of that mango that he wants so badly. He's hungry and the handle is in his hands, and it seems easy enough to do.

But Law said no. He'd fucked up so bad that time, when a simple order in play had nearly led to his own death, and if Law hadn't had been there he would have surely bled out. And since then, no blades. Nothing sharp. And it had been a couple of years since he'd so much as held anything sharper than a butter knife.

He wants to do this. He wants to act like any other person, to keep himself in the good graces of his counterpart, because in his presence he's finally starting to realize that he's very much not normal. And he's trembling as he holds the knife, feeling awe and horror in equal measures that such a simple item can cause so much chaos and trouble within him. Fuck, why can't he just do it. Ignore the rules, ignore what was set up for his own safety, it's not like anything will happen if he just cuts a piece of fucking fruit...]

2/2

[silent_king]

[He lets go and pulls away suddenly, reaching for every bit of self-control he has. Law isn't cruel, he doesn't want to humiliate him in front of some random version of himself that neither of them could have ever predicted existing in a world comprised of many worlds. The rules were set down to protect him, from himself. From his compromised mind, from how shaken up he gets, from how his existence has become almost cumbersome over time. And Law not being here isn't an excuse to change things, or throw away what he knows he needs to do for his well being.

He should probably consider that he's escaped his home without his staff, he's unmedicated, he's spent every bit of his spending money and can't find his way back, and he's without any real goals for what he's doing at the moment before he feels too proud of himself for turning down the use of a simple knife. But those things don't quite factor into this right now in his mind, the knife stands for something. The rest is just swept away.

He makes a sound, something that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else, and shakes his head. And he's done being mundane about things, that chaotic magic writes the note for him.

"I don't think it's safe for me to use it. I haven't eaten in a while, and my unfortunate mishaps only get worse when I'm weakened or tired."

There, good enough. Make it easy on both of them. And a piece of mango just falls off, a perfect clean slice, magic rushing through and moving it to Rosinante's open hand. There, that's better. No knife needed. And when he takes a bite, he really realizes how long he's been without eating, and it tastes more like fantasy to him right now than the reality of how a piece of tropical fruit should taste.]

[callada]

[There sure is a struggle going on over there, and it makes him wonder. There were things he didn't bring up. Painful, difficult things that he doesn't enjoy remembering. It's a wonder he came away from his childhood experiences able to tolerate the presence of weapons at all. Perhaps this version of him finds even something as mundane as a knife to be an unwanted reminder of that living hell.

So he's patient and understanding and whether that's an excuse or a true statement, he has no trouble taking the knife back - and then watches in awe of the work being done magically.]

Hey, it's fine. You want to get something real to eat? There were restaurants in the town.

[silent_king]

[He's absolutely grateful that his counterpart doesn't push, and doesn't seem to be bothered or concerned at all. It's comforting in a quiet sort of way, and it makes him let go of a little of that tension he feels now. The strain of the situation is over, and he can enjoy his piece of mango without worry, although it's gone far too soon.

He really should carry a snack with him in the future.

He slumps a little though, and his shoulders shake a little with nearly silent laughter when Rosinante brings up going to a restaurant. Just that wheezy noise once more in a different form. He wishes that he could, but he's really not used to travel without entourage. And a madman and his spending money are quickly parted.

"I can't afford it right now. I got caught up, and spent everything I had on me. I'll have to get home for more pocket money. It's been difficult to manage that." When he realizes that yes, he can just call his home for an airship that's something that will change things. For now, he's happily the fanciest vagrant to wander the beach.

Then the notepad page flips.

"In my defense, I wasn't expecting to take a step, slip, and end up on another continent when I hit the ground."]

[callada]

No, me either. But somehow I keep doing it. I've been on... five? Different islands since I got here. I'm outta cash too or I'd spot you.

[Ha! Covering the cost of a meal for royalty. Wouldn't that be funny? If only, but consistent work and pay doesn't seem at all possible with how he keeps getting tossed around. He can't even find the Heart Pirates, and even if he did, only his version of their captain knows he joined. Any version of Law would probably gladly say yes again, though, once they got over the fact he's alive again.

Oh, Law. He's managing to make his way without him, but life feels so much less rich and wonderful. Isn't it just his luck - brought back to life, but can't find the one person he wants to share it with.

His thumb doesn't seem to be bleeding anymore, that's nice. He wipes off his blade on a handful of leaves and sheathes it, then picks up his half-finished bottle of beer and has a drink.]

Mango's all yours at least. Maybe we can find more growing around here.

[He stole that one, but what's a guy gonna do.]

[silent_king]

[Another note, and he's grinning now. It's less irritating when he's not the only one getting dragged around. Misery really does love company.

"It keeps happening. I don't know what's triggering it, but it's an adventure at least."

It really has been, an exciting, expensive adventure full of things to see and new experiences. Then again, this whole place is a big, exciting, miserable new experience for him. And the longer it goes on, the longer his already shaken mental state further unravels.

"Thanks. If we can't find more, maybe I can sell some of my jewelry so we can eat somewhere. It's nice to have pretty things, but a full stomach isn't bad either."

Rosinante makes quick work of the mango after that, swishing motions of a transparent dark colored energy moving back and forth, one piece being cut off and then delivered to him, and then another. Until there's nothing left, to his quiet disappointment. He knows there's not a lot there, but goodness his abilities, excessive magic use, and sheer height mean that he eats a good deal more than most. He'll just have to make this work until they work together to get something else.]

[callada]

Sell your jewelry? You don't have to do that, I can fish, or trade work to someone for some food.

[Though he can't deny that the jewelry is more likely to net them a lot more money quickly, and it's also pretty gaudy. Sure, he likes pretty, shiny things as much as the next person but there's a line between a special indulgent treat and having rings and necklaces and bracelets and everything this version of him has. It's just a lot. The sort of luxury his father had tried to speak up against.

Still. They have other things they can try first, and it's probably on him alone to achieve it. He finishes his drink, then slides off the rock and stands.]

I bet we can find abandoned fishing gear if we look. Storms get it tangled in the tidewrack and trees. C'mon.

[silent_king]

["They're just items. As long as I keep my rings, I'll be fine."

Rosinante is aware that he's pretty useless physically. He's sickly, mentally and physically from the strain of his powers and the constant use of magic. He's gone two days without a proper meal on top of that, not because he didn't have money at some point but because he forgot. And he's not going to put the responsibility on his counterpart to feed him.

The note comes up again, and he plans on just telling him that they need to find a place to pawn his items, but when Rosinante brings up fishing gear he perks up incredibly. This sounds fun, and if he's going to actually be on a beach today he might as well try out some fishing for his dinner. So he just nods, grabs his parasol, and pushes himself up. If nothing else, he can use his magic to help out.

Not that he should when he's already exhausted. But in the end, he's not really the best at good choices.]

[callada]

[It's kind of a relief to have someone to look after again, it's just weird that the someone is a version of himself. But he decides to think of it as an opportunity to be the older brother, in a mentor sort of way if not actual age. There is so much about this double of his he still doesn't know and is hesitant to bring up. He must have had a similarly dark childhood, if his voice left and never returned. Maybe he had it worse.

He flips his sunglasses back down over his eyes, and starts off down the beach. There's always interesting junk left behind by the changing tides and here in the New World - which is where he suspects they are, anyway - the wild currents and storms carry treasures from so many shipwrecks. Pretty quickly he snatches up a battered but usable wooden crate and starts using it to tote other finds - edible seaweed, a long but fraying rope, a long wooden pole that might have been the handle of some swabbie's mop or broom. Hell, with that and the knife he just has to strip some bark off the tangled, vine-like trees that cascade to the edge of the sand around here and he's got himself a makeshift spear. After traveling for months on limited supplies, he and Law got good at scavenging. It's kind of fun.]

So... Where did you grow up?

[He asks casually, as if that was ever a casual question, but he needs to know.]

[silent_king]

[Rosinante looks around with great interest at the work that his counterpart is doing, with no small amount of amazement in him. He's so talented, and he doesn't understand how resourceful one person can be. This Rosinante doesn't have the same magic to rely on, which is honestly how he survived his own childhood. He would never consider scavenging like this, much less putting anything together with what he's found.

Then he gets asked a question, and it leaves him nervous. Not in the sense of the truth, he has no shame about that. But it all hurts. And for a moment, it's a rush of memories that he hates having at all, that he wishes he could figure out a magic to get rid of. But in the end, those memories are a part of what keep him going towards his goals. Any pain inflicted on him was because of the cruel and hateful in power, those who use the world like a careless child with a fragile toy. And he has to remind himself of that, that the agony suffered was and still is useful. It keeps him kind, and helps him to not give up on what he needs to do.

"I didn't exactly have a stable home. Especially after my father's death. I went from one town to another. Until Sengoku found me."

There's nothing in the world he appreciates more than the fact that he can control his magic, that the emotional bursts he puts onto his notes usually have to be focused on them. He can't imagine the obnoxiously dramatic rush that would accompany that.

"Is that how it was for you?"]

[callada]

[The answer he expected, then. Not the answer he'd hoped for, though. With his power and status and magic, what if he had grown up in a more stable situation, with a loving, intact, alive family? What if?]

Yeah. It was the same for me. Doffy ran off, and I... went the other way.

[Certainly a turbulent time. He stoops down to grab up a tangled ball of fishing line and adds it to his collection. The rest of those details are things he won't ask for. They can be volunteered, but he knows how much he went through just trying to get over that tragedy in his younger years so that he could become stable, capable, and strong. Glancing over at the guy beside him - he must not have ever joined the Marines. There's no way, right? But the military service had done him personally a world of good. Put him in control of his memories, rather than let himself be shackled by them.]

I haven't spoken to Sengoku in months. Sometimes I feel like I should call him up.

[silent_king]

[Rosinante curls in for a moment, not just physically but so strongly emotionally that it can be literally felt through his magic, even if it's just weakly. He's teeming with that dark chaotic energy, struggling to hold himself together, and thinking back to what Doffy did rips at him. He shakes it off though, working quickly to try to pull himself back from that place. He's going to be fine. He's going to be fine. He'll make this all work, somehow.

"Sorry. It's been a long week."

And he makes up for it in his mind by using that odd magic to untangle the fishing line, which slowly snakes itself about and into a neat little bundle.

"He'd like that, I think. I think about doing that sometimes. But he's never really forgiven me for my choices."

He can think about it all he wants, but after the choices that have been made on both sides the situation is all but helpless between them. He left the Marines, went on his own path, chose to take over the family and Dressrosa for the sake of his own goals. And his marriage to Law was all but a final straw between them.]

[callada]

You don't need to justify it. I know how shitty things were back then - whoa! Hey, you can do that too?

[He's watching the fishing line, thinking about telling the guy why he can't actually just up and call Sengoku, about to say something either way but not sure what, when his toe catches on a washed-up branch and he's flung to the ground. The box doesn't fare well in the fall, as some of the boards crack under the impact of being sandwiched between wrack and his arm, but Rosinante meanwhile pulls himself up to his knees and spits out sand, then grabs his sunglasses back up from where they fell. Damn, they're scratched already now. Good enough to use, though.]

I'm good. Thanks for fixing the line, that was gonna take an hour or two.

[Let's just spend the next few seconds picking things up to cover for getting over that jarring fall, that one actually hurt thanks to the box.]

[silent_king]

"Yes! It's good for a lot of things. I still want to teach you, you should be able to use it."

He's so happy to be helpful now, but then he watches his counterpart wipe out and he's taken over by a dark feeling, he's been walking elegantly on the beach with one damn mishap and his luck is not that good. When he gets it next, when the often spoken of Murphy reaches down to intact his law he's going to be screwed.

He's glad that Rosinante is good though, that it wasn't too bad. He's still worried a little, but although he can heal unless it's really bad he doesn't like to interfere. If anyone knows that he can manipulate the cells of others, in any way, it could lead back to him. And that's the last thing he needs.]

[callada]

[With everything back in place, he stands, glances over at the note, and then wedges the mop handle between the slats of the box, helping stabilize it even though it makes it harder to fit longish objects in it. It's just too wobbly without, now. Must have really knocked a few of those nails loose when the wood cracked. But it's all right, better than nothing, and he continues on.]

Yeah, I really want to try it! Maybe after we get something to eat. How did you learn it at first?

[silent_king]

[Rosinante is following a younger version of himself like he's a kid again, absolutely pleased with the idea of fishing, of having a potential friend, of teaching him magics maybe. That's the most exciting part to him, seeing if something exclusively from his world will translate to Rosinante. He loves magic, without it he'd be absolutely unable to effectively communicate, notes alone aren't enough. So this is important to him, something more precious than just teaching a skill.

"I was hungry. So hungry. And I couldn't lift the edge of the garbage can, it was stuck. And suddenly, I felt it. And I made the lid move."]

[callada]

Way back then, huh? That's lucky.

[He can't even manage haki. Here's this version of him who can slice mangoes and untangle knots and make pens and paper write for him. Small, simple, but really handy. And yet the very basics of his own world's near-equivalent escape him. His devil fruit, too - after seeing all the things that have nothing to do with medical science that Law can do with his, it has started to make him wonder. What could he be doing with his that he isn't? Why doesn't it come to him with greater ease?

If he ever runs into Law, these are things he will bring up. This version of himself seems well-intentioned enough, but it's an easy act to pull and so he'll remain cautious about telling about too many of his own hidden strengths and weaknesses for now.]

Anyway, I was going to ask about Sengoku before I fell. How long ago did you and him part ways?

[silent_king]

["It was! I don't know if I would have survived if I didn't figure it out. "

For what it's worth, Rosinante can't do anything with haki at all. He doesn't get it, it's something that even with some study still seems to slip from his comprehension save for a basic level. He can't do it at all, he can barely understand it. But magic? He can feel the chaos swarm him, taking him over and begging to be twisted and used. That he gets, and he can shape it with ease for many purposes.

And then they're back to the unpleasantries. Shying away isn't going to do anything for him though, especially when he wants this Rosinante to trust him as least as much as expected. Which is little, honestly. If he's anything like him he'll hoard secrets and his intentions, biting back and biding time. But a little harmless enough openness isn't going to hurt him, so he answers through his note.

"Our final meeting was nine years ago."]

[callada]

[Nine years?! He almost falls again but catches himself at the last second so that it's merely a stumble. Even though he hasn't seen Sengoku in person in a couple years now - it being too hard to get away for a rendezvous in person while undercover - at least he spoke to the man a little over a week or so ago. And that feels like forever. It's why, even after his betrayal, he's considering calling. God, the man must be mourning him, preparing his funeral - what a horrible realization. It stops him in his tracks, as he looks down at the sand and the junk brought in by the tide without really seeing any of it.

But it's only a momentary pause, easily attributed to nearly falling, and he shifts the weight in his arms and continues.]

Must've been hard. For both of you, I mean. Do you ever think about reaching out or is it out of the question now?

[silent_king]

[Rosinante looks away for a moment, out at the waters, as if he'll find some grand answer in the distance there. But there's nothing. Nothing but himself, his counterpart, and any of the people in the distance who are even less help right now than the oceans are. And none of them can give him words of wisdom for this, or help him breach the distance between himself and the man who changed his life.

"He's disgusted with me. I don't blame him. I abandoned my mission, left the Marines, and our last real conversation was cruel on both sides. I accused him of atrocities, he called me out on my sins. And when he came to my wedding? We spoke once, and we were still angry at each other. And that was the last time I saw him in person. "

He wants to give in, he wants to have Sengoku back in his life. But at this point, he's so messed up, so caught up in his insanity that he knows that at his best Sengoku wouldn't even know him any more. Doflamingo's death was the start of a dangerous spiral, and it's only gotten worse since then.]