hisheartsdesire | [ic] Contact

[Well, that is true... Though there had been a complicated series of events that led up to this predicament, and Toby doesn't know he's ready to open that can of worms.

And after some self/victim blaming, Drew threatening and then completely rejecting him, Toby finds himself quite hesitant to pursue anything.]

I... I don't know.

[He sounds lost and even a little bit scared.]

Edited 2015-11-05 02:04 (UTC)

[And Edgeworth's voice changes. It takes a quieter tone, gentle, but still firm]

It's alright, Toby. Once he's put away, he won't be able to hurt you, or anyone else, again.

[Silently, Toby considers his options and tries to sort himself out from the myriad of thoughts and emotions that simply won't go away.

His most prevalent thoughts are that Drew's life is ruined, and he's to blame for that. Kanaya had been right, hadn't she? That his behavior does, in fact, ruin the lives of others. The fledglings—four of them—and now, Drew.

And he liked Drew, truly. He'd thought there was a connection, but now that there actually is one, this bond they share, Toby doesn't know what he'd originally seen. Maybe Drew felt the same way about him, that everything was an illusion, that he'd somehow been tricked into seeing something that didn't exist.

He tries not to hurt. But perhaps it's because he hurts, perhaps it's because Drew wants Toby and everything that's happened between them to just disappear... Perhaps it's petty anger and disappointment that push Toby's decision.]

You're right. I think... I think I want justice. For what happened.

Good. But first, I need you to tell me everything that happened between the two of you. Not a single detail can be left out. Do you understand?

[This worries Toby greatly. He's quiet for a few moments.]

... Are you sure this is something to discuss on the phone? There's a lot, and it's complicated.

If you insist. Where would you like to discuss this, Toby?

That place we'd gone to in Nonah. [Because it wasn't Maurtia Falls, and it wasn't Heropa. A compromise.] I'll head out soon, meet you there in a bit.

I'll be there shortly.

[And without another word, he hangs up and makes his way to the Porter. He speaks quickly, his tone crisp and businesslike, perhaps a bit...curt? Or perhaps not. Who knows with Edgeworth]

[Toby hadn't noticed the snap of Edgeworth's voice, or the unusual curtness with which he'd ended the call. How could he when there'd been so much on his mind, so much in his mind? So much was going on inside him with Drew screaming to end Toby's existence that it became difficult to concentrate.

Somehow... somehow, he makes it to Nonah, which is considerably closer to Heropa than Maurtia Falls. As such, the turbulent emotions are more violent, and the screaming is simply that much louder. It's absolutely dreadful, but Toby endures it—he will speak with Edgeworth.

When Toby reaches their spot in Nonah, he grabs them a table and waits...]

[Edgeworth isn't too far behind Toby. He takes a moment to look for the vampire, and as soon as he spots him, he strides quickly towards the table. Once he gets close, Toby might notice the bags under his eyes and the sickly pallor on his already pale face. Edgeworth sits down as if nothing has happened, his head held imperiously high.]

Thank you for meeting with me, Toby. Where did you wish to begin? You said that it was... ah, complicated.

[Since being killed by Drew, Toby himself has been in a frustrating state of unwell. Even still, he's concerned about Edgeworth since the man has enough trouble with insomnia as it is. Now, Edgeworth looks far more stressed than Toby could've imagined.]

It is quite complicated. [His gaze drops to the table a moment, his mouth is dry, and he's trying to find out where to start and what exactly he wants to say.] Not just because of who and what he is, but also because of who and what I am.

[He sighs, perhaps seeming melodramatic, but the truth is that Toby simultaneously feels guilty, regretful, and scared. Yet again, others have laid his secrets bare, and like before, Toby is still woefully unprepared to handle it.]

He's been rather upfront about being a werewolf, and I haven't been nearly as forthright about being a vampire. [Drew's anger bears down on Toby, and so he feels not only resigned but wants to disappear.] I don't enjoy it or embrace it.

It seems most, if not all, of the other vampires here can live off the much lauded synthetics provided by the government. Or perhaps the blood stored in so-called fresh blood banks, or frozen blood, the blood of animals, and so on. But I can't, and it's not for lack of trying. Without fresh blood, live blood as it were, I will starve and weaken. And in the sun's rays, I will die, burning up from the inside and turning into ash and dust.

[If Toby seems disgusted by all these things, it's because he truly is. There is no one who hates Toby more than himself.]

So before I even get into my dealings with him, I guess I should elaborate on my condition. Or rather, my nature or state of being. Because what transpired between us has as much to do with it as anything else.

Edited 2015-11-12 18:10 (UTC)

[It's complicated. If the circumstances were different, or if Edgeworth were a softer man, Toby's defeated demeanor would fill him with sympathy. He would listen, give him the benefit of the doubt. All he can think of now, though, is Kanaya described him. Sniveling. Selfish.. Is he sincere? Or is this another attempt to foster sympathy for himself?

Edgeworth keeps his face stony and neutral, while the hand on his lap balls into a fist. He breathes in deep to compose himself, and speaks coolly, his voice quiet and steady.]

He said that you fed on him. Perhaps you should begin there.

[Where Toby is often more keen and perceptive of Edgeworth's demeanour, there's just so much going on in his head that he attributes Edgeworth's signs of distrust to insomniac grumpiness.

So, naturally, he starts the story from there.]

We met at the July swear-in event. [The same one after which Toby had invited Edgeworth over to his place, where they talked, and Edgeworth choked on some whiskey.]

He was outraged at the rumours they had spread about him during the presentation. Since I was nearby, I spoke with him, trying to calm him so... [Suddenly, this seems so bitterly ironic.] So he could prove he wasn't what they'd made him out to be. In trying to control the wolf inside him, he clawed at one of his hands, and I smelled his blood flowing from the scratches of his wounds. Of course, chaos and panic had since spread, and I looked for a way out; he aided my escape and, in return for my help, offered his blood to me.

That was the first we met, and the first I drank from him. But it wasn't quite a feeding in the usual sense.

[The lines around Edgeworth's face tighten when Toby mentions the wolf. His story tells him two things. One, Drew is far more of threat than he tried to claim, if his wolf was itching to come out at the swear-in. Two, the fact that he offered up his blood a some kind of treat proves that he's far more complicit than he implied in their earlier conversation. Edgeworth breathes in, schooling his expression so it's neutral, curious, and he leans in closer]

And what made this feeding different?

...It's the first anyone actually understood the need, the hunger, without my having to apologize or even explain it. I was going to walk away, but he let me take it without asking.

[Every other feeding, even the first Toby had taken from Dorian, was the result of a seduction or scheme to obtain what he needed. If it wasn't that, then it was an attack, plain and simple. Generally, the end result is death—save for Dorian, naturally, which is what had made him a more favourable target than others. He was beloved, even.]

He also offered to feed me in the future, an offer without strings attached. [A stipulation Toby mentions only because Abduxel makes it seem as though he'll only agree for a price.] Which I eventually took up as time went on.

That sounds convenient. It must be... difficult, finding ways to feed.

[He softens his voice and tilts his head down, the very image of sympathy]

But how did you feed before Drew, if I may ask?

[At this question, there's frustration, guilt, and sorrow writ all over Toby's face. Obviously, he's taken from others; that much goes without saying. If he doesn't tell Edgeworth now, someone else probably will. Would it be either Sasha or Laurie? Kanaya seems the most likely to do so since she did sic Sabriel on him. Not to mention that the fledglings are in her care, and she'd even been accused of raising an undead army back in July.]

...When I first arrived, I did as I would have in my world because I didn't know any better. I fed from a native. And... I would have killed him so that he wouldn't have changed, if only Ms Maryam hadn't stopped me. He was the first I had ever sired, and I know little of taking care of my own. [Because Ivar had abandoned him, but that isn't relevant to the question, now is it?

Here, Toby anxiously swallows. Should he bring up Abduxel, or not? It seems like a bad idea, really. However, Edgeworth knows what sorts of questions to ask, he'd been a lawyer in his own world.]

After him, I held off to the point of starving and sickness before feeding once a week, thereby siring three more natives in roughly the first month. Only after the fourth did I start regularly feeding on Dorian.

[He feels a complete wreck, overwhelmed by guilt, anger, and frustration—perhaps he should come out with everything at once? Would that not be easier than waiting for Edgeworth to judge him? But he'd just as quickly judged himself before Laurie and Sasha, to what end? It's always the same—he'll be cast away in the end.

Even with these thoughts, he ultimately decides not to offer more information than is asked of him. Perhaps things will be different; then again, he may be expecting it from the wrong person. Might as well find out.]

[Edgeworth lowers his head for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice starts of quietly.]

So this happened for four weeks - a month. You fed on natives for an entire month.

[And when he snaps his head back up, he's glaring openly at him, his lips drawn into a sneer as he stares him in the eye. His voice is still quiet, but it's turned as harsh and cold as a winter storm]

An entire month where you could have easily fed on Dorian Gray.

Edited 2015-11-29 06:23 (UTC)

[Now, Toby suddenly feels even more ill than earlier, a bitter tang in his mouth as his nausea slowly bubbles up. Is it the disorienting influence of the pack bond distorting Edgeworth's usual grumpiness, or is it something more? Still, it seems pertinent to respond to Edgeworth, and so Toby lets that thought fall to the wayside.]

It was a mistake, all of it. [A very, very big mistake. If he were any less sick, he might be argumentative; instead, he seems strangely objective and detached. If he could think about it more, he might wonder whether this approach is more advantageous. Less wallowing and trying to excuse himself, and more stating the facts.]

I hadn't even realized Dorian was here until a couple weeks in, and that doesn't excuse the fact I did it on three other occasions before things settled down. I understand that much.

[Besides, what's he supposed to do now? It's well after the fact, and he can't just take it back. Not any more than Drew could simply take back this wretched thing with Toby.]

And what took you so long to find him?

[Edgeworth does not yell. Yelling would attract too much attention, and right now, he still values discretion. But his voice is heated, and he practically hisses the words out, only barely keeping his temper in check]

I could barely take three steps in this wretched place without stumbling across someone from home. So what was your excuse, hmn? Dorian Gray isn't exactly subtle, and he certainly didn't go into hiding when you arrived here. Did you pay any attention to the world around you? Or were you too busy wallowing in self pity to give a damn?!

[The rising anger in Edgeworth's voice resonates with the crazed screaming in Toby's mind; he tastes something wretched in his mouth, sickness rising from his stomach. Feelings that, again, he hasn't had in ages, having only tasted things with blood and alcohol since having changed over two hundred fifty years ago.

He tries to remember what things were like when he'd first arrived, and it seems so hard to do so now. Things seem so different, so sorted out by now.]

I'm sorry, what? Where did you get that idea? I'd barely been returned to life a few days in my own world and had been trying to acclimatize, when suddenly I was here. I... To me, the devices were simply tiny phones, the sort I'd barely even seen, let alone attempted to actually use upon my arrival. I barely knew to use anything—the network and the Internet, texting and phoning and... voice messages? And after what had happened back home, there's no way I could've even dreamed that Dorian was even here.

[That last part causes a sting of pain in Toby's heart, but he makes himself let it go because there's already so much hurt and pain, sickness and putrid-tasting disgust, and there's no point reliving his heartbreak while Edgeworth accuses him of not even trying, back then.]

[He stares him in the eye, his expression cold and unforgiving. A few months ago, Toby's incompetence would have been understandable. Endearing, even. But now that he has blood on his hands, it's suddenly not so cute anymore]

In this world, I have seen knights. Sorcerers. Men and women from every era of history imaginable, and people from worlds more strange and fantastic than this one.

[The heat is gone from his voice, now replaced with pure cold]

And yet they still managed to bungle their way through the network in a week or two. Maybe not all of them, but enough of them to count. And you really expect me to believe that it took you an entire month to learn the ropes?

[His stomach turns as Toby feels control slipping away from him. Normally, he still would be calm and collected, but right now, he is too ill to pretend to be anything but frustrated and sick. Moreover, Edgeworth seems... impatient? pushy? At any rate, Toby's starting to think his responses are coming far too slowly—how is he even to begin explaining things, especially in his current condition?]

How many of them had just returned to life before arriving here? Do you even know how disorienting it is to deal with that, only to experience a change of scenery? [How many of them were nearly three hundred years old? Toby may look young enough, but there's a learning curve for people out of place and time. Lucifer might be older, but he's also the devil, and it's only natural for such a being to take on recent trends and keep with the times to do his work. Toby may not know how old Marceline actually is, but she seems to also have kept up.

Still, Toby is too ill to protest anymore.] But if you want to hold that against me? Fine, so be it; I didn't try hard enough, obviously. No one is perfect, and I made more mistakes than I can count, perhaps more than should really be allowed, when I arrived here.

[If Toby could only collect his thoughts and sort his own emotions from Drew's, then maybe he'd attempt to connect on that point because surely Edgeworth has made mistakes. Maybe he's made some that were also judged far too harshly at some point, too. But Toby can't do anything of the sort, he's not even in a good enough state to answer in thorough detail. No, he just wants to say whatever Edgeworth wants to hear, hoping the torment in his mind and body soon will end.]

[The more that Toby tries to appease Edgeworth, the more he winds him up. For all of his apologies, for all of his humility, Edgeworth has yet to see any acknowledgement of the pain or the inconvenience he's caused to those around him. His scowl deepens, and he breathes harshly as Toby tries to deflect his fury]

Dead men are a dime a dozen in this place. You are not unique in this regard, Toby, no matter what you may think. And while no one is perfect, I can think of few people who have made mistakes as disastrous as yours.

—! [Everything seems so confusing right now. Why does Edgeworth have this sudden need to judge him? Toby isn't trying to be special or saying his mistakes are better or worse than anyone else's. All he'd tried to do is explain what had affected him at the time of his arrival, and that he's like any other person who'd ever made a mistake before—that's everyone. Yet, Edgeworth has written these things off as excuses, the irony being they were inexcusable and invalid. Toby would apologize if there seemed a point to it, but the last time he'd done so, it was poorly received. An apology here and now is unlikely to do any good.

If his mind weren't swimming, he might have something to say about the disaster of his (un)life... The way things are now, he's at a loss for words.]

...I cannot and will not deny the severity of the mistakes I've made, the misconceptions I've had, the various ways I've wrongly gone about life here and my attempts to make up for the things I've done. [A beat; he swallows, and the taste is as though something had died in his mouth. With another gulp, he barely manages to suppress what feels like the need to vomit, which he hasn't experienced in quite a long time.

But to say anything of his worsening condition is to invent yet another excuse and run from confrontation, so he won't. If he were thinking more clearly, he might ask what justice Edgeworth intends to pursue given these pointed questions and immediate judgment.

Instead, he tries to collect his thoughts and whatever broken pieces of himself remain. Ignoring how incredibly awful everything is both inside and out, he somehow manages to calmly ask,] Have you any other questions?

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