[Without turning his head toward her, Ozymandias glances toward Fang's somewhat unfocused form in the far corner of his vision uncertain if he wishes to bite. He supposes that she wouldn't ask if she wasn't open to the answer, but it also feels like a matter where his opinion isn't likely really welcome.]
[Still. She asked.]
I understand your perspective of looking after those close to you. I see it reflected in your actions and I think even the most dim-witted person would observe as much. [He empties the rest of his cup.] But you're guarded.
[He looks at her.]
I don't mean in the sense of not allowing anyone to know you or being slow to share things, which I suppose is also true. [Ozymandias knew from the moment he met Fang that she was capable of observing others and reaching conclusions. Part of that involves getting another person to talk about themselves without giving too much in return.] I mean guarded in the sense that you're very concerned with how you appear. I would think if you felt disappointment were an inevitability, it wouldn't matter to you one way or another if someone perceived you differently.
[He shakes his head a little.]
Don't misunderstand my words. You're certainly as uncouth as you seem and I don't believe you're concerned with offending anyone. I believe you to be genuine in that regard, mouth and all. But I have a hard time imagining the notion that anyone might think you capable of possessing vulnerabilities sits well with you let alone if they openly acknowledge them.
[Or worse yet, try to help her.]
I could be overthinking it though, as you say. [Or projecting a little, but good luck getting him to admit to that. He shrugs a little, setting his cup aside and looking back out at the harbor. He huffs a light laugh.] I am among the last to claim to understand and know you best as I said.
[She meets his gaze neutrally as she listens; if this form of Fang's had a tail, it'd likely be flicking slowly at the tip. A huff of air leaves her and her smile crooks up wryly at the corner when Ozymandias calls her uncouth. Fang turns her attention to the emerging stars overhead, listening to the rest of it that way.]
[Fang holds her silence, chewing thoughtfully on his words. The leg swinging over the end of the roof eventually stills.]
'Course I'm guarded. Isn't everyone? The world'll eat you alive if you're not.
[The words weren't shocking to hear, but Fang had never associated that part of her nature with the perception of others. She was cautious and suspicious of others. A lot of folk from Gran Pulse were. Or maybe she was that way from the constant string of tragedy that made up her life.]
[You're in pain, another Mirrorbound had said once, and Fang hadn't truly realized how much she was until it was thrown in her face. Even now, months later, the words drifted in the back of her mind like some sort of odd revelation. Yes, she hurt. Yes, she was guarded. Fang was beginning to be so very tired of hurting.]
It's kinda a funny thing to hear for you, you know. Like you're not the same way. And like you haven't seen me vulnerable more than any Mirrorbound here, Chariot aside.
[Ozymandias has seen her wounded to the point where she couldn't sit up on her own volition. He's seen her chained and subjugated in the Dorchacht dream. He's seen her when her hands couldn't accomplish the most basic of tasks. Granted, Fang wasn't open with him in the way she was with Chariot, but... Well, there were only two other people across all planes of existences that qualified for that list.]
[But Fang had seen so very little of Ozymandias, too. For all that the king talked of himself (and boy, did he), he never truly talked of him. The conversation would orbit him, never truly touching down, deflected constantly to his legacy, his kingship, his beliefs, his accomplishments, his judgement. But so very rarely to the man himself. The boy in the mirror-dream was the only shadow of a doubt Fang recalled witnessing. And unlike herself, Fang couldn't recall ever witnessing Ozymandias down and out at the hands of this world.]
[She supposed it was hard not to lower her own illusions when presented with such a meticulously constructed one. The ghosts she sometimes glimpsed in that illusion didn't help, either.]
And which of those were by your choice? [He ignores Fang's remark about him.] I will admit that I've witnessed much, but I will not delude myself and mistake that for entrusting those parts of yourself to me.
[Outwardly, he ignores it anyway. Ozymandias' words are not sharp or accusatory, but neither does he appear to take his time in thinking upon her words before responding as he has several times and he spares no recognition for the words about him.]
[It's difficult to say if he does it intentionally or not. Even a few glasses in, there are some lifelong instincts and habits that cannot be dulled even if they are handled a little less sophisticated and subtly than normal. A king such as him could never been possible without such care. But it also seems somewhat beside the point right now given that he wasn't the one that had invited some scrutiny.]
I don't mean to say that I am entitled to any of it because I don't believe I am. Nor am I not understanding that there are certainly some things that I have seen you likely wish I hadn't. [He looks to her again.] But circumstances that are at a minimum unfair and outright cruel to you are not quite the same to me, which is why I rarely if ever mention them afterward.
[Especially given the one time he started to come close to pressing upon something that appeared vulnerability, her reaction was...less than receptive and they spent several weeks not speaking to one another. It's not something that he holds as a fault, but he thinks it better not to try again. Certainly not so soon.]
I cannot assume that simply because I know of something that it is my place to speak of it to you.
[Fang, as usual, takes the most appropriate course of action. She huffs a dry sound of amusement.]
That's a lot of words to say you're mindin' your own business.
[She reaches for her cup again, then immediately resettles it when remembers it's empty. The sentiment behind his words Fang could appreciate. Ozymandias was respectful of her pride, in the manner usually only other proud individuals could be.]
After all this, Ozy, I think it's safe to say you're part of this. You keep lookin' out for me. You're gonna let me take the cub beyond the wall. And here you are, makin' it sound so cold.
[Her foot idly starts swaying again, and Fang chuckles.] You don't want to assume? Great. Then go on and ask. Even if I'd rather you just speak your mind—in your indoor voice, don't get me wrong.
[There's no furrow of his brow at the nickname and the corners of his lips do not pull down into a frown at her teasing. He doesn't correct or reprimand her. Ozymandias' gaze remains steadily upon her, his expression calm but not one that could necessarily be described as serious or severe.]
[Because she talks about the things he does. That he offers her trust, that he expresses that he cares. But there's nothing really there in what Fang says that gives any sort of indication of her except what feels like to Ozymandias a nudge toward an assumption, and it ultimately feels more of the same, of exactly what he was talking about. It's not enough for him to assume.]
[Fang blinks at the night sky, a shadow of surprise passing over her face. That was obvious, wasn't it? And maybe because she was little blindsided by Ozymandias getting straight to the point, for once.]
[...She did trust him, did she? Fang's finger idly starts tracing the rim of her cup. It seemed like forever ago when they first met at Lunasa, when Fang was trying to get a handle on his character. Her initial observations hadn't been wrong, much to her relief, and had only expanded as this strange acquaintanceship of theirs grew. She remembered the phantom she saw that day in his behavior, a likeness that set her on the edge of fight or flight. A likeness that still did, on the rare occasion she glimpsed it.]
[Eyes still on the stars, Fang eventually answers.]
Great chunk of the time, yeah. [Her tone's light and casual. Simple honesty.] But sometimes, when you get goin' on your grandstanding and speeches about gods and kings and divine right or whatever? You remind me of someone—of something—that's caused me and my people a lot of hell. [To put it simply.]
The way you talk, words you use, your tone... spitting image of the bastard. Not that you've ever played into it. Never once given me a reason not to trust you. Just... sets me on edge sometimes, that's all.
[When the words leave her mouth, it belatedly occurs to Fang that it's an entirely unfair judgement. Ozymandias had nothing to do with the razing of Gran Pulse. With her orphaning. With the war, or with Ragnarok, or the Fall. He's been nothing but patient with her, really. And still, ice climbs into her spine every time the man dials up the "regal" act and she feels an impulse to drag him back to earth, lest she end up orbiting him like some kind of wary predator.]
[Resting a hand down beside him, Ozymandias shifts his weight some. There was a time where he would have bristled or taken offense to her words. Had she said any of this to him before, closer to when they first met, he would have declared it an unjust and unfair judgment. She hardly knew him, after all, and conflating another's intention onto his own... But that's not the case now.]
[What pieces he'd managed to find or she'd given to him were beginning to form the picture she speaks of plainly. And so, it is not a particularly difficult thing to accept. It does not feel anything overly personal as she is able to acknowledge and recognize that his motivations, his intentions err on the side of a genuine desire to do good. That for Ozymandias, it is not about seizing and maintaining power, but using what power he has for a greater good.]
[Ozymandias looks to his cup and would that he could simply refill it by sheer will alone. Alas, it remains empty.]
[Because it gnaws at him now. Because he's not... Well, he's not particularly used to this. By virtue of who and what he is, everyone tends to know the totality of his legacy. His great achievements cast a bright light that ends up overshadowing his missteps, but they do not erase them. But Fang is not from a world where she could know that, and she doesn't seem the type to go behind his back and ask someone who would. She would respect his privacy too much for something like that.]
You are right to be wary.
[Ozymandias sits up, looking down at the street below.]
It is perhaps something I should have told you sooner, but I am not accustomed to speaking of it. It is a story that is well-known throughout the world where I am from, so there is little need, and anything beyond that lies between myself and Moses.
[Normally, Ozymandias sits with a degree of ease, a confidence that seems to communicate that wherever his bottom might rest, it is to be a throne. But now, his shoulders are drawn a little tighter as he rests his hands on his lap. He does not appear to concede space, but neither does he seem particularly ready to claim anything as his own.]
In trying to do what I believed was right, early in my reign, I perpetuated suffering that began many generations before me. And I caused new suffering because I was too stubborn and proud to yield when Moses tried to have me set it right. When I realized my wrongs and acted, I was nearly led astray and found myself a hair's breadth from making yet another terrible mistake when I came to my senses.
[He exhales sharply throw his nose. He's tempted to look at her, but can't quite bring himself to do it.]
I have spent a lifetime and more wishing that it was possible to undo all of it and choose differently. Yet I almost always find myself on the precipice of making the same mistake again and again.
[It's why despite his demonstrative and genuine confidence in his decisions, he does not reach them quickly. He tries to weigh everything carefully, to see more than just his own perspective in the world to understand the ramifications of his actions better. But without anyone to pull him back, to show him when his logic has taken a turn that begins turning him from his original intention, he is capable of just as great cruelty as he is kindness. His own hopes and dreams begin to cloud his judgment with ambition.]
[If Fang was faintly surprised before, well... she blinks again, turning a surprised gaze Ozymandias' way when he claims she's right. Through the course of his story, Fang pushes her up to prop on her hands, listening attentively.]
[Because this isn't something she's seen before; this wasn't the impartial and immovable distance of Pharaoh that he always projected. She'd seen something similar in the mirror-dreams, perhaps, in the shoulders of an overburdened boy. Now that slope is different, the lines of regret drawing through him far too familiar for Fang's comfort.]
[A lifetime and more on the precipice of the same mistake, endlessly. Fang wished that didn't resonate so sharply.]
...And what mistake is that?
[Her voice was mild. Not soft, not gentle—Ozy didn't need to be insulted like that. Only a question and a curiosity, lacking all force or judgement.]
My ambitions have not changed since I was a boy, but my understanding of what it will take to reach those ambitions has.
[Ozymandias finally moves his gaze back to Fang.]
I know you hold no faith in gods. I am not asking you to change your mind or hold agreement with me. I only ask that you try to see it from my perspective for a moment. Just to understand. [Understand how it is he finds himself so close to that edge of a mistake again and again. Because while it might be easy to chalk it up to delusions of grandeur, the belief that he is special, without equal, and entitled, it isn't that exactly.] You know of my divine right to rule as my claim to the throne, but it is not merely the justification why I should lead above others.
It is a responsibility to my people to maintain what my people call ma'at. There is no simple translation to the modern languages for it, but it may be thought of as balance or harmony. Every Egyptian is expected to adhere to its principles. Throughout their lives, they should live with compassion and honesty, and treat their household and their neighbors with respect and kindness. But for Pharaoh, he not only leads by example with his own household, but he is the one who is the arbiter of ma'at for the kingdom. He must find ways of balancing the needs of his people both within the kingdom and with neighboring nations. He must find the balance between happiness and sacrifice to maintain that happiness.
That is why I know what Solomon is trying to do in the world I come from is the wrong path. There is no balance.
I also know this because my path has looked similar to his. I could never bring myself to enact such cruelties as him because I love humanity exactly as it is. [He could never willingly destroy something as precious as humanity. For all their flaws, he sees so much good in them. Their bravery. Their honesty and loyalty. Their strength and love. To try and rob them of any challenge, to smooth the path so much so that they merely float along as a leaf might upon a gentle stream... It's perverse. It's unnecessarily cruel.] But there have been terrible things I have been willing to bring to fruition for the sake of ensuring the protection and happiness of the humanity that I love so dearly. Were it not for others opposing me in those moments, I likely would not have reconsidered and believed my path just and the sacrifices necessary.
[He looks away from Fang again, falling quiet. Despite how tall he stands, how much he is celebrated and remembered with love and admiration, Ozymandias does not think this is something he is capable of overcoming. He does not possess the saintly qualities of his brother. Try as he might to be fair and unbiased, he finds himself with blindspots that are not easily remedied.]
That is why I surround myself with the people that I do. I admire them for their kindness and compassion for the people around them. Their good judgment. It is those people that guide me. I am... [He hesitates, his gaze dropping for a moment. The words do not repulse him to say, but they come unnaturally to him and need a moment to arrange themselves.] I am incapable of being as they are. But until my spirit is well and truly destroyed, I shall always strive for it and it is by their examples I shall always follow.
[Fang can only watch him, the way his expressions subtly play as Ozymandias meanders through his explanation. She ultimately glances away too, once he falls silent, letting out a long breath.]
[He'd said she was right to be wary. Fang knew firsthand, perhaps better than anybody, how easy it was to be lead to extremes in the pursuit of one singular, precious thing—a goal so dear, so crucial to one's beliefs or self, going just a little farther never seemed out of the question. That much was dangerous. ...But Fang couldn't fault him for being dangerous in that way without being a flagrant hypocrite. Keep him in check, perhaps, and hold the man to his core beliefs if he strayed, but no more than that.]
[Maybe they were both wrong; that phantom seemed a little further from reach. Barthandalus held no love for humanity, no value for life. Humanity to him was only a resource, livestock and tools that existed to enact a loophole. Barthandalus sought no balance; only the love of a god who had abandoned the world.]
Don't you worry. Even if I don't get gods, I get community, through and through. Your ma'at's not so different, just on bigger and smaller scales. [Maybe that comparison wouldn't satisfy him. The togetherness of Oerba was so different from the individualistic societies of other worlds, Fang tired of trying to explain it.] I hear what you mean. About the good people, too.
[Hell if Fang didn't need a grounding influence from time to time. Her fingers drum thoughtfully on the roof. After a moment, she stands.] You stay here for a moment, mm?
[She wanders off downstairs. Ozymandias claimed to be divinity, the son of true gods, fit to guide and oversee humanity. It still all sounded play-by-play out of the fal'Cie handbook, but... Fang couldn't remember seeing a display more human than that in a while.]
[The Turnskin isn't gone long. When she resettles by Ozymandias, she passes him a filled cup, another of her in own in hand.]
You know, [Fang starts casually, looking back towards the harbor.] On second thought, there is something I want to prove.
[The comparison isn't that far off the mark. After all, ma'at is something meant to both create and maintain the sense of community. So, he offers no modifications or corrections. Ozymandias watches her rise to her feet, nodding in agreement to remain while she leaves before turning his attention back out to the distant harbor and all its lights. He sits quietly, catching little pieces of various conversations from the festivities. Nothing particularly meaningful as it tends to be more tones than actual words, but they seem suitable for the moment because although the conversations themselves hold no meaning to Ozymandias, they are the reflections of ever-important connections between people. For a little while, he toys with one of the leaves of the nearest plant as something to do.]
[By the time she returns with their drinks, he isn't messing with the plant any longer though he is still listening to the festivities on the street below. Ozymandias hasn't settled into his usual boisterous self, the air around him still a little too somber for that, but the tension has left his shoulders and it doesn't return when she pulls his attention as she settles back in next to him. Ozymandias also has the self-restraint to not take an immediate drink from the cup once he's accepted it. He swirls it around a little instead.]
[He glances at her when she speaks.]
What's that?
[Ozymandias takes the first sip of the fresh glass now.]
[Fang displays no such restraint, relishing in the flavor of the mulling spices.]
That I can keep my promises.
[Something heavy's forming in her chest again. That "inevitability of disappointment," as he called it. It wasn't Ozymandias' judgement she was worried about; it was her own, in a way. Though she would keep striving for better until she was no more, her culmination of failures weighed down each step with doubt.]
I've let two of 'em slip though. Two of my most important ones. Doubt either'll be held against me, but there's some things you've got to prove to yourself much as others, you know?
[He hums in agreement to the sentiment she expresses. The approval of others will always hold weight -- such is the nature of a social being, which every person is at the end of the day -- but sometimes one's own expectations are the things that hold the most. Sometimes proving yourself wrong about yourself means far more than what others are willing to believe or disbelieve about you.]
I'm sure you will find ways of surprising yourself. [He takes another sip of his drink.] You do seem to loathe being predictable.
[Which is to say that Ozymandias doesn't doubt that she will find ways of keeping her promises. She may stumble and make mistakes. She might even fail a few times. But Fang has never given the impression that she's the sort to give up easily any more than he is.]
[She huffs a breath tinged with amusement. Fang's eyes drop down to the cup in her lap; her free hand absently thumbs along the gruesome burn on her wrist.]
Yeah, well, that's what havin' a few screws loose is for. Predictability's bad for survival.
[At least, it was on Gran Pulse. On Cocoon, and in the Dunes. Her thoughts strayed to Vanille, wondering what she thought of it when Fang did the unthinkable and left her side. There was nothing to be done about it, long as she remained on this side of the mirrors. Nothing to be done about her promise to Chariot, either, and she was on the right side of the mirrors for that.]
I suppose you're right. As we've already long since established, you are an alligator brains incapable of getting a simple name right. [He elbows her lightly, looking at her with a crooked smile.] Your inability to have any semblance of logical behavior simply can't be helped.
[Fang rolls her eyes when she's gently jostled. Her hand leaves her wrist so she can lean back on it instead. Geez, she gets it. No sulking.]
Can't help it at all. Don't know what I'll ever do about it. [She takes a drink of her wine.] Guess you're just gonna have to suffer unless you have a better suggestion, Oz-man.
[Before, she was just being Fang. Now she's really screwing with him.]
[Ozymandias' face almost instantaneously contorts as though he's just full-on bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Whatever retort he might have had stops dead in its tracks.]
[Fang laughs bright like she'd just won some kind of game; as Ozymandias leans away, she leans in turn to follow with the sweetest smile, reaching up and patting his cheek twice.]
[Wow. She just layers indignity upon indignity, doesn't she? A little disgusted noise emits from him as she pats him on the cheek, but he doesn't jerk away from her or swat her hand away. He assumes it will only make it worse if he does either of those things. She wouldn't laugh like or that or smile at him so sweetly if there wasn't every intention of as much.]
[The things he must endure...]
That is not free rein to call me Ozy. If I am to suffer one of your little nicknames, I would rather that than "Oz-man," but neither are ones I prefer.
[He turns his head from her to take another drink, muttering under his breath that he should just leave anyway because just saying Oz-man is offensive enough to warrant him leaving. What was she even thinking? Even for an alligator brains...]
If you are really so insistent on not calling me Ozymandias, you might as well just call me Ramesses. Surely you could manage that.
Five. [He says this so simply and matter-of-fact, it wouldn't be all that odd if Fang thought at least for a moment that he was trying to use the highest number he thought he could fool her with.] Seven if you were to count Ozymandias and my childhood nickname.
[He begins listing them off, holding up a finger for each for Fang's benefit so she knows when each name ends and begins. He disagrees with her that his language is overly complicated, but it is still foreign to her.]
Kanakht Merymaa, Mekkemetwafkhasut, Userrenput-aanehktu, Usermaatre Setepenre, and Ramesses. [He lowers his hand. It's likely noticeable that he did not provide his childhood nickname, but he would not allow anyone other than his mother to call him that as an adult thank you very much.] Usermaatre Setepenre and Ramesses were the most important of all my names as my regnal name and birth name.
Ozymandias is the Greek translation for Usermaatre and one of the names I am most often called in the modern era because of a poem written long after my death. My subjects referred to me as Usermaatre Setepenre when I was alive, so it seems the most appropriate thing for most to call me Ozymandias rather than any of my other names.
[To Ozymandias, it seems obvious that he needn't be anything other than the King of Kings to most people he speaks with. So, that is how they might know and relate to him until such a time he allows it to be otherwise. It may never happen with some, of course, but he is not interested in the number of his relationships so much as their quality. To him, it is better to possess the love and loyalty of a noble few than to find himself seeking to connect with every person he comes across.]
["It could be worse," she had essentially teased him with her intentional mangling of his name. "It could be worse," the man countered, rattling off names Fang would genuinely mangle if she tried to spit them back. Five bloody names, and then some.]
[The Turnskin shakes her head slowly, tipping her gaze back up at the sky. Fang looks genuinely flabbergasted.]
Five names. Who needs that many names?
[Her eyes turn back to him as the information gradually filter through. Her brow pinches slightly, her voice filling with confusion.]
Wait. So you're tellin' me that all this time you've been fussing about Ozymandias, Ramesses' been your real name?
[And to Fang, conversely, she didn't see the point of not being the full force of who you were at all times. Every title and additional name felt like superfluous dressings or masks, layers of unneeded layers.]
[There was, maybe, just a tiny cultural gap here. Just a little one.]
[Ozymandias wrinkles his nose before correcting her.]
They are all my real names. [Shaking his head a little, he continues,] Were you to call me by any of my names, I would recognize them. In that regard, they are the same. But Ramesses with none of my titles attached to it is not a name for the world to use because it is not for the world to know me in that way.
Those I wish to know me as more than my legacy are the only ones that I shall ever permit to call me by my birth name. [He takes another drink of his glass before turning his gaze back down the street below, watching the people mill about.] It is not a name I would prefer you ever refer to me as with others except with Chariot or others I might allow to use it, but it is not a name I would take offense to you using in conversation with me.
[Fang tilts her head slightly to the side as she thinks it over. His need to have such a divide between his public and private selves still sounded ridiculous to her ears, but really, was the concept so different from Chariot's?]
[Her smile this time is mellow and warm.]
How sweet of you. I like your company, too. [Fang supplies between the lines. She looks back to the harbor, gently swirling her cup. ]
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[Still. She asked.]
I understand your perspective of looking after those close to you. I see it reflected in your actions and I think even the most dim-witted person would observe as much. [He empties the rest of his cup.] But you're guarded.
[He looks at her.]
I don't mean in the sense of not allowing anyone to know you or being slow to share things, which I suppose is also true. [Ozymandias knew from the moment he met Fang that she was capable of observing others and reaching conclusions. Part of that involves getting another person to talk about themselves without giving too much in return.] I mean guarded in the sense that you're very concerned with how you appear. I would think if you felt disappointment were an inevitability, it wouldn't matter to you one way or another if someone perceived you differently.
[He shakes his head a little.]
Don't misunderstand my words. You're certainly as uncouth as you seem and I don't believe you're concerned with offending anyone. I believe you to be genuine in that regard, mouth and all. But I have a hard time imagining the notion that anyone might think you capable of possessing vulnerabilities sits well with you let alone if they openly acknowledge them.
[Or worse yet, try to help her.]
I could be overthinking it though, as you say. [Or projecting a little, but good luck getting him to admit to that. He shrugs a little, setting his cup aside and looking back out at the harbor. He huffs a light laugh.] I am among the last to claim to understand and know you best as I said.
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[Fang holds her silence, chewing thoughtfully on his words. The leg swinging over the end of the roof eventually stills.]
'Course I'm guarded. Isn't everyone? The world'll eat you alive if you're not.
[The words weren't shocking to hear, but Fang had never associated that part of her nature with the perception of others. She was cautious and suspicious of others. A lot of folk from Gran Pulse were. Or maybe she was that way from the constant string of tragedy that made up her life.]
[You're in pain, another Mirrorbound had said once, and Fang hadn't truly realized how much she was until it was thrown in her face. Even now, months later, the words drifted in the back of her mind like some sort of odd revelation. Yes, she hurt. Yes, she was guarded. Fang was beginning to be so very tired of hurting.]
It's kinda a funny thing to hear for you, you know. Like you're not the same way. And like you haven't seen me vulnerable more than any Mirrorbound here, Chariot aside.
[Ozymandias has seen her wounded to the point where she couldn't sit up on her own volition. He's seen her chained and subjugated in the Dorchacht dream. He's seen her when her hands couldn't accomplish the most basic of tasks. Granted, Fang wasn't open with him in the way she was with Chariot, but... Well, there were only two other people across all planes of existences that qualified for that list.]
[But Fang had seen so very little of Ozymandias, too. For all that the king talked of himself (and boy, did he), he never truly talked of him. The conversation would orbit him, never truly touching down, deflected constantly to his legacy, his kingship, his beliefs, his accomplishments, his judgement. But so very rarely to the man himself. The boy in the mirror-dream was the only shadow of a doubt Fang recalled witnessing. And unlike herself, Fang couldn't recall ever witnessing Ozymandias down and out at the hands of this world.]
[She supposed it was hard not to lower her own illusions when presented with such a meticulously constructed one. The ghosts she sometimes glimpsed in that illusion didn't help, either.]
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[Outwardly, he ignores it anyway. Ozymandias' words are not sharp or accusatory, but neither does he appear to take his time in thinking upon her words before responding as he has several times and he spares no recognition for the words about him.]
[It's difficult to say if he does it intentionally or not. Even a few glasses in, there are some lifelong instincts and habits that cannot be dulled even if they are handled a little less sophisticated and subtly than normal. A king such as him could never been possible without such care. But it also seems somewhat beside the point right now given that he wasn't the one that had invited some scrutiny.]
I don't mean to say that I am entitled to any of it because I don't believe I am. Nor am I not understanding that there are certainly some things that I have seen you likely wish I hadn't. [He looks to her again.] But circumstances that are at a minimum unfair and outright cruel to you are not quite the same to me, which is why I rarely if ever mention them afterward.
[Especially given the one time he started to come close to pressing upon something that appeared vulnerability, her reaction was...less than receptive and they spent several weeks not speaking to one another. It's not something that he holds as a fault, but he thinks it better not to try again. Certainly not so soon.]
I cannot assume that simply because I know of something that it is my place to speak of it to you.
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That's a lot of words to say you're mindin' your own business.
[She reaches for her cup again, then immediately resettles it when remembers it's empty. The sentiment behind his words Fang could appreciate. Ozymandias was respectful of her pride, in the manner usually only other proud individuals could be.]
After all this, Ozy, I think it's safe to say you're part of this. You keep lookin' out for me. You're gonna let me take the cub beyond the wall. And here you are, makin' it sound so cold.
[Her foot idly starts swaying again, and Fang chuckles.] You don't want to assume? Great. Then go on and ask. Even if I'd rather you just speak your mind—in your indoor voice, don't get me wrong.
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[Because she talks about the things he does. That he offers her trust, that he expresses that he cares. But there's nothing really there in what Fang says that gives any sort of indication of her except what feels like to Ozymandias a nudge toward an assumption, and it ultimately feels more of the same, of exactly what he was talking about. It's not enough for him to assume.]
[He doesn't want to just assume.]
Do you trust me?
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[...She did trust him, did she? Fang's finger idly starts tracing the rim of her cup. It seemed like forever ago when they first met at Lunasa, when Fang was trying to get a handle on his character. Her initial observations hadn't been wrong, much to her relief, and had only expanded as this strange acquaintanceship of theirs grew. She remembered the phantom she saw that day in his behavior, a likeness that set her on the edge of fight or flight. A likeness that still did, on the rare occasion she glimpsed it.]
[Eyes still on the stars, Fang eventually answers.]
Great chunk of the time, yeah. [Her tone's light and casual. Simple honesty.] But sometimes, when you get goin' on your grandstanding and speeches about gods and kings and divine right or whatever? You remind me of someone—of something—that's caused me and my people a lot of hell. [To put it simply.]
The way you talk, words you use, your tone... spitting image of the bastard. Not that you've ever played into it. Never once given me a reason not to trust you. Just... sets me on edge sometimes, that's all.
[When the words leave her mouth, it belatedly occurs to Fang that it's an entirely unfair judgement. Ozymandias had nothing to do with the razing of Gran Pulse. With her orphaning. With the war, or with Ragnarok, or the Fall. He's been nothing but patient with her, really. And still, ice climbs into her spine every time the man dials up the "regal" act and she feels an impulse to drag him back to earth, lest she end up orbiting him like some kind of wary predator.]
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[What pieces he'd managed to find or she'd given to him were beginning to form the picture she speaks of plainly. And so, it is not a particularly difficult thing to accept. It does not feel anything overly personal as she is able to acknowledge and recognize that his motivations, his intentions err on the side of a genuine desire to do good. That for Ozymandias, it is not about seizing and maintaining power, but using what power he has for a greater good.]
[Ozymandias looks to his cup and would that he could simply refill it by sheer will alone. Alas, it remains empty.]
[Because it gnaws at him now. Because he's not... Well, he's not particularly used to this. By virtue of who and what he is, everyone tends to know the totality of his legacy. His great achievements cast a bright light that ends up overshadowing his missteps, but they do not erase them. But Fang is not from a world where she could know that, and she doesn't seem the type to go behind his back and ask someone who would. She would respect his privacy too much for something like that.]
You are right to be wary.
[Ozymandias sits up, looking down at the street below.]
It is perhaps something I should have told you sooner, but I am not accustomed to speaking of it. It is a story that is well-known throughout the world where I am from, so there is little need, and anything beyond that lies between myself and Moses.
[Normally, Ozymandias sits with a degree of ease, a confidence that seems to communicate that wherever his bottom might rest, it is to be a throne. But now, his shoulders are drawn a little tighter as he rests his hands on his lap. He does not appear to concede space, but neither does he seem particularly ready to claim anything as his own.]
In trying to do what I believed was right, early in my reign, I perpetuated suffering that began many generations before me. And I caused new suffering because I was too stubborn and proud to yield when Moses tried to have me set it right. When I realized my wrongs and acted, I was nearly led astray and found myself a hair's breadth from making yet another terrible mistake when I came to my senses.
[He exhales sharply throw his nose. He's tempted to look at her, but can't quite bring himself to do it.]
I have spent a lifetime and more wishing that it was possible to undo all of it and choose differently. Yet I almost always find myself on the precipice of making the same mistake again and again.
[It's why despite his demonstrative and genuine confidence in his decisions, he does not reach them quickly. He tries to weigh everything carefully, to see more than just his own perspective in the world to understand the ramifications of his actions better. But without anyone to pull him back, to show him when his logic has taken a turn that begins turning him from his original intention, he is capable of just as great cruelty as he is kindness. His own hopes and dreams begin to cloud his judgment with ambition.]
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[Because this isn't something she's seen before; this wasn't the impartial and immovable distance of Pharaoh that he always projected. She'd seen something similar in the mirror-dreams, perhaps, in the shoulders of an overburdened boy. Now that slope is different, the lines of regret drawing through him far too familiar for Fang's comfort.]
[A lifetime and more on the precipice of the same mistake, endlessly. Fang wished that didn't resonate so sharply.]
...And what mistake is that?
[Her voice was mild. Not soft, not gentle—Ozy didn't need to be insulted like that. Only a question and a curiosity, lacking all force or judgement.]
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[Ozymandias finally moves his gaze back to Fang.]
I know you hold no faith in gods. I am not asking you to change your mind or hold agreement with me. I only ask that you try to see it from my perspective for a moment. Just to understand. [Understand how it is he finds himself so close to that edge of a mistake again and again. Because while it might be easy to chalk it up to delusions of grandeur, the belief that he is special, without equal, and entitled, it isn't that exactly.] You know of my divine right to rule as my claim to the throne, but it is not merely the justification why I should lead above others.
It is a responsibility to my people to maintain what my people call ma'at. There is no simple translation to the modern languages for it, but it may be thought of as balance or harmony. Every Egyptian is expected to adhere to its principles. Throughout their lives, they should live with compassion and honesty, and treat their household and their neighbors with respect and kindness. But for Pharaoh, he not only leads by example with his own household, but he is the one who is the arbiter of ma'at for the kingdom. He must find ways of balancing the needs of his people both within the kingdom and with neighboring nations. He must find the balance between happiness and sacrifice to maintain that happiness.
That is why I know what Solomon is trying to do in the world I come from is the wrong path. There is no balance.
I also know this because my path has looked similar to his. I could never bring myself to enact such cruelties as him because I love humanity exactly as it is. [He could never willingly destroy something as precious as humanity. For all their flaws, he sees so much good in them. Their bravery. Their honesty and loyalty. Their strength and love. To try and rob them of any challenge, to smooth the path so much so that they merely float along as a leaf might upon a gentle stream... It's perverse. It's unnecessarily cruel.] But there have been terrible things I have been willing to bring to fruition for the sake of ensuring the protection and happiness of the humanity that I love so dearly. Were it not for others opposing me in those moments, I likely would not have reconsidered and believed my path just and the sacrifices necessary.
[He looks away from Fang again, falling quiet. Despite how tall he stands, how much he is celebrated and remembered with love and admiration, Ozymandias does not think this is something he is capable of overcoming. He does not possess the saintly qualities of his brother. Try as he might to be fair and unbiased, he finds himself with blindspots that are not easily remedied.]
That is why I surround myself with the people that I do. I admire them for their kindness and compassion for the people around them. Their good judgment. It is those people that guide me. I am... [He hesitates, his gaze dropping for a moment. The words do not repulse him to say, but they come unnaturally to him and need a moment to arrange themselves.] I am incapable of being as they are. But until my spirit is well and truly destroyed, I shall always strive for it and it is by their examples I shall always follow.
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[He'd said she was right to be wary. Fang knew firsthand, perhaps better than anybody, how easy it was to be lead to extremes in the pursuit of one singular, precious thing—a goal so dear, so crucial to one's beliefs or self, going just a little farther never seemed out of the question. That much was dangerous. ...But Fang couldn't fault him for being dangerous in that way without being a flagrant hypocrite. Keep him in check, perhaps, and hold the man to his core beliefs if he strayed, but no more than that.]
[Maybe they were both wrong; that phantom seemed a little further from reach. Barthandalus held no love for humanity, no value for life. Humanity to him was only a resource, livestock and tools that existed to enact a loophole. Barthandalus sought no balance; only the love of a god who had abandoned the world.]
Don't you worry. Even if I don't get gods, I get community, through and through. Your ma'at's not so different, just on bigger and smaller scales. [Maybe that comparison wouldn't satisfy him. The togetherness of Oerba was so different from the individualistic societies of other worlds, Fang tired of trying to explain it.] I hear what you mean. About the good people, too.
[Hell if Fang didn't need a grounding influence from time to time. Her fingers drum thoughtfully on the roof. After a moment, she stands.] You stay here for a moment, mm?
[She wanders off downstairs. Ozymandias claimed to be divinity, the son of true gods, fit to guide and oversee humanity. It still all sounded play-by-play out of the fal'Cie handbook, but... Fang couldn't remember seeing a display more human than that in a while.]
[The Turnskin isn't gone long. When she resettles by Ozymandias, she passes him a filled cup, another of her in own in hand.]
You know, [Fang starts casually, looking back towards the harbor.] On second thought, there is something I want to prove.
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[By the time she returns with their drinks, he isn't messing with the plant any longer though he is still listening to the festivities on the street below. Ozymandias hasn't settled into his usual boisterous self, the air around him still a little too somber for that, but the tension has left his shoulders and it doesn't return when she pulls his attention as she settles back in next to him. Ozymandias also has the self-restraint to not take an immediate drink from the cup once he's accepted it. He swirls it around a little instead.]
[He glances at her when she speaks.]
What's that?
[Ozymandias takes the first sip of the fresh glass now.]
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That I can keep my promises.
[Something heavy's forming in her chest again. That "inevitability of disappointment," as he called it. It wasn't Ozymandias' judgement she was worried about; it was her own, in a way. Though she would keep striving for better until she was no more, her culmination of failures weighed down each step with doubt.]
I've let two of 'em slip though. Two of my most important ones. Doubt either'll be held against me, but there's some things you've got to prove to yourself much as others, you know?
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I'm sure you will find ways of surprising yourself. [He takes another sip of his drink.] You do seem to loathe being predictable.
[Which is to say that Ozymandias doesn't doubt that she will find ways of keeping her promises. She may stumble and make mistakes. She might even fail a few times. But Fang has never given the impression that she's the sort to give up easily any more than he is.]
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Yeah, well, that's what havin' a few screws loose is for. Predictability's bad for survival.
[At least, it was on Gran Pulse. On Cocoon, and in the Dunes. Her thoughts strayed to Vanille, wondering what she thought of it when Fang did the unthinkable and left her side. There was nothing to be done about it, long as she remained on this side of the mirrors. Nothing to be done about her promise to Chariot, either, and she was on the right side of the mirrors for that.]
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Can't help it at all. Don't know what I'll ever do about it. [She takes a drink of her wine.] Guess you're just gonna have to suffer unless you have a better suggestion, Oz-man.
[Before, she was just being Fang. Now she's really screwing with him.]
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...Oz...man...
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Your words, not mine, Ozy.
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[The things he must endure...]
That is not free rein to call me Ozy. If I am to suffer one of your little nicknames, I would rather that than "Oz-man," but neither are ones I prefer.
[He turns his head from her to take another drink, muttering under his breath that he should just leave anyway because just saying Oz-man is offensive enough to warrant him leaving. What was she even thinking? Even for an alligator brains...]
If you are really so insistent on not calling me Ozymandias, you might as well just call me Ramesses. Surely you could manage that.
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[Her leg starts idly swinging again.]
What, another name? How many of these things do you have?
[Or maybe it was just the people Fang was drawn to. Chariot and Light were like this, too.]
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[He begins listing them off, holding up a finger for each for Fang's benefit so she knows when each name ends and begins. He disagrees with her that his language is overly complicated, but it is still foreign to her.]
Kanakht Merymaa, Mekkemetwafkhasut, Userrenput-aanehktu, Usermaatre Setepenre, and Ramesses. [He lowers his hand. It's likely noticeable that he did not provide his childhood nickname, but he would not allow anyone other than his mother to call him that as an adult thank you very much.] Usermaatre Setepenre and Ramesses were the most important of all my names as my regnal name and birth name.
Ozymandias is the Greek translation for Usermaatre and one of the names I am most often called in the modern era because of a poem written long after my death. My subjects referred to me as Usermaatre Setepenre when I was alive, so it seems the most appropriate thing for most to call me Ozymandias rather than any of my other names.
[To Ozymandias, it seems obvious that he needn't be anything other than the King of Kings to most people he speaks with. So, that is how they might know and relate to him until such a time he allows it to be otherwise. It may never happen with some, of course, but he is not interested in the number of his relationships so much as their quality. To him, it is better to possess the love and loyalty of a noble few than to find himself seeking to connect with every person he comes across.]
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["It could be worse," she had essentially teased him with her intentional mangling of his name. "It could be worse," the man countered, rattling off names Fang would genuinely mangle if she tried to spit them back. Five bloody names, and then some.]
[The Turnskin shakes her head slowly, tipping her gaze back up at the sky. Fang looks genuinely flabbergasted.]
Five names. Who needs that many names?
[Her eyes turn back to him as the information gradually filter through. Her brow pinches slightly, her voice filling with confusion.]
Wait. So you're tellin' me that all this time you've been fussing about Ozymandias, Ramesses' been your real name?
[And to Fang, conversely, she didn't see the point of not being the full force of who you were at all times. Every title and additional name felt like superfluous dressings or masks, layers of unneeded layers.]
[There was, maybe, just a tiny cultural gap here. Just a little one.]
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They are all my real names. [Shaking his head a little, he continues,] Were you to call me by any of my names, I would recognize them. In that regard, they are the same. But Ramesses with none of my titles attached to it is not a name for the world to use because it is not for the world to know me in that way.
Those I wish to know me as more than my legacy are the only ones that I shall ever permit to call me by my birth name. [He takes another drink of his glass before turning his gaze back down the street below, watching the people mill about.] It is not a name I would prefer you ever refer to me as with others except with Chariot or others I might allow to use it, but it is not a name I would take offense to you using in conversation with me.
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[Her smile this time is mellow and warm.]
How sweet of you. I like your company, too. [Fang supplies between the lines. She looks back to the harbor, gently swirling her cup. ]
Ramesses it is.
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