vineleaves | Open: And they're gonna bend their branches down to lay their fruit upon the ground

He smiles at the options of names Claudius goes with. "Could be," he says. "There's a lot of English names though. Is there a limit on how many times you can guess? We could find you a baby name book and you can just go alphabetically."

“But a carefully lined shot that hits its target is always more impressive than a volley of arrows, dost not thou think? Or a carefully lined strike in a game of billiards. I’d like to impress her by getting it right on the first guess.” With a soft, private smile, he says, “I’m my very fond of Tress, know thou. I love her like mine own niece — I finally told her during all the,” with a vague handwave, “business with Aornis.”

He's still not really ...over all of that, but the warm smile he gives Claudius doesn't let on the pang he feels at the reminder about his murdered former 'friend', the secret murderer. "I'm glad you told her then! Always best to tell people important things like that, I think."

"Yes, well, I also told her I'd murdered my brother in the same breath." Claudius sighs -- but for all his insight, he can't sense any unease beyond the warmth of Dionysus's expression, and so feels no guilt in proceeding to unpack his own feelings. "Aornis had meddled with her memories -- made her believe her beloved Charlie had arrived, but she couldn't reconstruct their conversation in any detail. I could've let Tress go on believing the lie, as long as it made her happy ... but she would've discovered it sooner or later. Just as he would've discovered the truth about me, sooner or later. She deserved to hear it for someone who loved her enough to be honest with her ... I didn't expect that to be me, that's all. Though it seems, in my stolen memories, I told Aornis how I'd felt about Tress first, and offered the same avuncular regard. Who can say whether that's why Tress was targeted?"

He gets that same sickly feeling of betrayal he's felt off and on since he first realized that Aornis was not who she pretended to be around him. "That -- that poor -- poor Tress. It's completely -- I --" He takes a deep breath. "I still feel terrible that I didn't know you all were going through all of this, up until the end of things. I should've been able to help -- hell, she was messing with everyone's minds, that's basically my juris-fucking-diction, after all, and I --" He takes another deep breath. "I'm so sorry, dear."

“My sweet Soterios,” Claudius says softly, eyes intent on Dionysus and yet not sharp. He wraps a comforting arm about Dionysus’s shoulder — convenient, that they’re of a height, and he can do this. “Cruel though it may sound,” he says, “I’m rather glad you feel responsible. A god less connected to his humanity could easily wash his hands of the whole affair, say something trite and unprovable like everything happens for a reason. Everything happens. We make our own reasons. Thou art a kind, unsuspecting man, and had no reason to think anything was amiss until someone had told thee. Thou art not like me, suspicious, spying into every shadow, interrogating even ghosts beyond the remit of inquiry.” Still softly, he asks, “If I find myself again planning in secret to forestall some hidden danger … wouldst thou have me find thee?”

He appreciates the arm around his shoulders, and leans into Claudius a bit. "I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me anything, dear. But -- I would appreciate it, because I might be able to help, and -- y'know. I want to keep you safe."

Claudius hesitates, puts on a flickering smile, and says, "When I was in grief, I think I spoke some nonsense to thee about having been a sacrificial lamb. Properly speaking, it's called a scapegoat. As a rule, Danish Catholics don't practice animal sacrifice anymore, but it's the idea of taking an otherwise innocent creature, pushing all of the community's sins on it, and either killing it or releasing it to take those sins somewhere else. It separates a society from its own failing and shortcomings." Realizing he's start to ramble, he dryly continues to the point, "I'm not used to this. Having people I can trust in when I'm not safe. I assume any person I talk to will tacitly endorse whatever suffering I go through, or explain why it's necessary to endure it. But I do trust thee, and would like to trust thee with more of my cares."

"That is what I'm here for, you know," he presses a little kiss to the side of Claudius's temple. "But it's not just me. There's so many people here who love you, and who also want you safe. I don't think there's anyone here who wants you to be suffering."

"With one notable exception," Claudius says with a sigh. There's no point keeping it to himself, he realizes -- there never was, but he told himself he was keeping the peace. "Luo Binghe. He doesn't wish any fresh suffering upon me, perhaps, but he's endeavored to cause me pain in the past and despises anyone who openly protects or sides with me. Aornis meddled with dreams as well as memory, crafting cruel nightmares from people's past vulnerabilities ... but she had the idea from Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe tortured me when I was not two months here. When a friend of mine bade him to stop, he became Luo Binghe's life-long enemy, and was sent one such a dream by him."

The longer Claudius talks, the more alarmed Dionysus looks. "He -- wh-- sweetheart, I'm so sorry--" he wraps him in a very tight hug. "I had no idea -- he tortured you?!"

It shouldn’t shock him still, enough to crush the breath from his lungs with the relief of releasing a held-in breath. He momentarily closes his eyes against Dionysus’s look of alarm, then steels himself to explain. “For insolence,” he says. “He used some magic from his demon half — magic in his blood, which he slipped to me secretly. We dallied once, sharing a kiss, and it seems he thought on it often. He heard rumors that someone in this mansion was styling himself a prince, and decided our dalliance must have been a targeted distraction, an attempt to undermine him on this prince’s behalf. For thathe interrogated me, used his power to torture me. When I told him roundly and insolently that there was no plot against him and his empire had no relevance here, he used it to bring me to my knees, and swore I would never know another day’s peace. The very next day he made good on his word, and continued torturing me from a distance, lashing out with pain whenever the whim struck him. I’ve known many royals and nobles like him before,” he says bitterly. “They’re selective in their cruelty. They make examples, then show magnanimity and mercy to those within their own circle, reminding them how good they can be. They make scape-goats for their own sins and either sacrifice them, or send them out into the world to be forgotten. It may be Luo Binghe has never been cruel to thee, since thou art a god and thy status makes thee worthy of respect. Or thou may’st be a part of his circle. But … if it sits uneasy with thee, that Aornis was a friend to thee and villain to others, I would have thee know the truth of’t.”

Truthfully, he has barely ever spoken to Luo Binghe, only a small handful of times. They didn't meet until Dionysus's party a few months ago, and then so soon after that was when Shen Yuan died, and Luo Binghe was in mourning. He definitely would not consider himself part of 'his circle'. But he feels terrible, and he's fully aware it's not his fault, but he didn't know about something so important to his one follower here. How close might he have come to accidentally hurting Claudius. For crying out loud, he came so close to casting them both in the same damn play!

"My first question," he says, once he has words again. He takes Claudius's hands and squeezes them tightly. "is -- are you better now? He -- he can't do that to you anymore, can he?"

Something sinks in Claudius’s chest when he realizes: for months he’d prepared himself to answer that question, if anyone caught word of it without his telling and came to ask after his well-being, but no one ever did until he broke down during Dark. Because word didn’t catch, but even when it did, those who knew chose not to mention it — he sees that now. And he has to hush that wounded child him that cries they didn’t ask because it didn’t matter to them. It didn’t matter how he felt, whether he was better, whether he was safe, but when had it ever? Now, face to face, he can’t give his rehearsed answer.

He laughs humorlessly. “Thou wilt have to understand,” he says, “that in the beginning, the mansion was a more lonesome place. Someone like Luo Binghe in a place of forty people with assorted powers and divine relations isn’t the unquestionable victor of any battle you could conceive. When there were fewer of us, it was rather easier to call. In smaller social settings, I’ve something of a sense for these things — it’s helped me survive. I know who can and cannot be confronted. So for most of my time here, I’ve been practicing my best avoidance. Plenty of material of the trauma workbooks, I can tell thee: finding every way not to contend with fear that comes from living alongside one’s torturer, well aware nothing could stop him if he had it in his head to do it again. I sent him after his current partner, in hopes that either his fortunes or misfortunes in love would distract him enough to build a fragile peace. And it’s worked to a point. Now all of Shen Yuan’s friends are safe from Luo Binghe’s rages. But I don’t count among them — a fact which I have a number of feelings about, but can’t really begrudge. It’s thanks to Shen Yuan I found a way to protect myself from further parasites. The same plant that grew his body will grow a preventative and a cure.”

Still holding tight to Claudius's hands, he lifts them to place a kiss on his knuckles. "And -- what can I do to help with it? I'm -- well, I don't have Magnus' ability to grow anything with magic, but I am pretty good with plants in general, or -- or if there's something else that I'd be better suited to helping with -- just, just let me know, you know I'd do anything for you, dear." The thought of anything, or anyone hurting Claudius here is beyond terrible. Dionysus said he would protect him as best he can, and he keeps good on his word.

Claudius closes his eyes, letting Dionysus's kindness warm and wash over him. "I believe you can help," he says at last. "As can be expected, perhaps ... my ambitions go beyond protection from one of Luo Binghe's powers. I'll be safe from those which come from his demonic heritage, but he could kill me as easily with a sword. Shen Yuan, an immortal cultivator who should have been safe, was killed with a gun. Many here come from worlds where disputes are resolved by force, and many more will come, I'm sure. I don't want anyone to fear for their life, as I once did, for having said the wrong thing to the wrong person on the wrong day. I want to remove the threat of death entirely, by giving the possibility of resurrection. The plant which restored Shen Yuan to life can make more. But we'll need more gardens. And," he says, meeting Dionysus's eyes with his own, "we'll need good gardeners."

"Does it -- does it work for any cause of death?" It's ... it's a little overwhelming to think about, honestly. The thought that they could just grow something that would eliminate the finality of death for any of the mortals living here. If anyone has the possibility to come back to life after dying here... Dionysus would never have to bury another child. He wouldn't have to say a last goodbye to anyone, ever again.

He tries not to let himself get carried away with thinking about it, he doesn't have any details yet, he doesn't know how it would work or anything like that yet... but despite himself he can feel his heart beating faster.

“In theory, yes. Shen Yuan’s body was grown anew, and his spirit housed inside of it. Whether he fell to gunfire, poison, or old age, it wouldn’t have mattered, as long as the spirit was intact.” Smiling, he shakes his head and says, “I admit I used to think alchemists who sought the Philosopher’s Stone were short-sighted and naive. Even if such a tincture were created, I thought, it would be bought in cases by wealthy men loath to lose power and influence. Then humanity would be trapped with the worst sort of people on the planet 'til Judgment Day." He rolls his eyes at himself, at his own cynicism but also at his unquestioning belief in the Last Judgment, the day where the dead would rise and wicked souls would be sorted from the good. “But this is a new world, with new rules. Why limit ourselves?”

"It's -- Claudius, this --" he can't quite articulate exactly what he's feeling, so instead he just grabs Claudius on either side of his head and plants a big kiss on his forehead. "Sweetheart, this is amazing. That's such an understatement, but -- ah!"

He won't have to bury Mercutio. He won't have to bury Étienne, or Sagramore, or Sunny, or Claudius, or anyone. If this works like Claudius seems to believe it will, he won't be cursed with outliving all of his loved ones anymore. Aornis' pathetic little funeral will be the last one he has to attend. Ever.

"Everyone will have their choice," Claudius says, but it's hard to sober his smile through it, to dampen any of the delight he feels at Dionysus's delight. "I want to be sure not to enforce a tyranny of immortality. Be proud of me for that, because I'm not sure I'd have seen any problem with one prior to coming here. The sorts of worlds that, say, Tally comes from always seem to shaped by governments using science to improve mankind. But if nothing else ... it can give more time. So many people die before they've had time to adjust to the thought, and," soft, "I imagine those people are also harder to lose."

He thinks about all of the loved ones he has lost when they were way too young. It's hard watching anyone go, of course, but there's so many who ought to have gotten more time. He thinks too, of when he was blessedly and briefly reunited with Ariadne, when he journeyed to Hades, and how it was her choice to stay behind. He thinks of that often. He could easily have brought her with him -- apparently the Dionysus from Apollo's universe did something similar ages ago. But she chose to stay behind, and for better or worse that was her choice to make.

"We could -- I dunno," he says quietly, "maybe make sure everyone fills out a paper about whether or not they'd want to be brought back. In pencil, so they can change their minds either way if they want."

“Paperwork,” Claudius says, with a sincere smile. “I love paperwork. I’m happy to look over the details … more generally, I’d like thy blessing. Master Lan Wangji and I have been observing the effects of different forms of energy at the cellular level, but I believe thou hast a divine energy that is thine alone.”

"Of course you have my blessing," he says, hastily, before leaning over and kissing Claudius' forehead. "Claudius -- dear -- this is so amazing, and just -- important. This kind of hope that you've given me -- it's -- I don't even have words, you know?"

"Hope is a precious thing, dost thou not think? Perhaps it's because I come from a tragedy ... or perhaps it's the clinical depression we all seem to suffer from." The last he says wryly and knowingly. "But I can't help clinging to hope wherever I happen to find it. Even if it's a fool hope, I intend to persist."

He can't help it, he has to give Claudius a hug or he's going to burst right now. "How soon can we start working on everything?"

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