[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. ]
[As she calls it sweet of him, he looks back at Fang and anticipates she is about to tease him as she appears to always do whenever their conversation turns a bit more serious like this. But he notices her smile and to his relief, he sees there's nothing smug or biting about it like their usually would be if she was about to start getting smart with him. Fang looks away first, Ramesses choosing only to look away after she is done speaking to hide his smile in his cup lest he appears too delighted or pleased with her acceptance of his name.]
[A set of fireworks for the likely last of the ships leaving for the night are set off down by the harbor. More had been set off earlier when the vast majority of the ships were leaving, but it seems there is an attempt to be somewhat considerate as the hour grows a bit later. Or there is just plainly an assumption that no one is looking outside any longer and the rest of the festival has drawn everyone's attention away, so not much effort needs to be placed into it. Either way, Ramesses opts not to compete with the fireworks to be heard. The display lasts nowhere near as long as it had earlier with other ships and the sky grows quiet once more fairly quickly, the gentle breeze pushing the lines of smoke until they dissipate.]
So, how many cunes do you bet that Chariot will still be concerned we will find ourselves at odds with one another?
[He doesn't mean to make of Chariot's concerns completely light because what is important enough for her to worry about should be treated seriously whenever it is brought up. There's also perhaps plenty of evidence to suggest that they should be at odds with one another when setting aside their respective relationships with Chariot. But her tendency to work herself up by spiraling down the worst-case scenario to the exclusion of better or at least more realistic outcome can go some places sometimes and it just seems a bit silly to him to assume that neither he nor Fang would at least force civility between the two of them if they really couldn't get along. He doesn't think anyone incapable of something like that would ever catch Chariot's attention in the first place.]
[Fireworks. How nostalgic, in a bittersweet way. Maybe these fireworks granted wishes, too.]
[Fang scoffs. ]
All of 'em. She's never not worried.
[The possibility would always exist. They were polar opposites in many ways, including some of their values. And they were two individuals of great conviction; if those convictions fell on opposing sides, it would be ugly. ]
Guess we'll have to do our best not to worry her, yeah?
Why do you think I've put up with you for as long as I have?
[It's a non-serious answer that likely couldn't be farther from the truth. Some might criticize him for not knowing her name for so long, and they would probably be right to do as much, but it allowed Ozymandias to form his own opinion of Fang. Not that he wouldn't have done the same with the knowledge of who she is, but having some time without concern of how it would impact Chariot allowed it to be so sooner rather than later.]
[He shakes his head a little.]
Really, she should be more concerned that we will get along too well.
[The look of disbelief that appears on his face appears so briefly, it's almost as though it never happened. It's not something he can sustain knowing Chariot as well as he does. He can absolutely hear the question in her voice, likely stammered out or, at the very least, accompanied by one of her nervous little laughs.]
She persisted in addressing me as "Your Highness" for nearly a month after we became lovers. Had I never said anything before or after, I'm not entirely certain she would have ever stopped.
[When he said earlier that he finds amusement in watching others figure out how they should address him? Chariot was definitely top of the list. She flustered so easily back then with the most minor of provocations.]
[Ramesses hums in light, quiet amusement as he takes another drink from his cup.]
And yet, I think we would both be hard-pressed to find anyone in this place stronger than her. [She certainly wouldn't be able to keep up with the pair of them if she was any less than she is, he thinks.] It is good to see that such gentleness can continue despite everything.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.]
1/2
...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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[A set of fireworks for the likely last of the ships leaving for the night are set off down by the harbor. More had been set off earlier when the vast majority of the ships were leaving, but it seems there is an attempt to be somewhat considerate as the hour grows a bit later. Or there is just plainly an assumption that no one is looking outside any longer and the rest of the festival has drawn everyone's attention away, so not much effort needs to be placed into it. Either way, Ramesses opts not to compete with the fireworks to be heard. The display lasts nowhere near as long as it had earlier with other ships and the sky grows quiet once more fairly quickly, the gentle breeze pushing the lines of smoke until they dissipate.]
So, how many cunes do you bet that Chariot will still be concerned we will find ourselves at odds with one another?
[He doesn't mean to make of Chariot's concerns completely light because what is important enough for her to worry about should be treated seriously whenever it is brought up. There's also perhaps plenty of evidence to suggest that they should be at odds with one another when setting aside their respective relationships with Chariot. But her tendency to work herself up by spiraling down the worst-case scenario to the exclusion of better or at least more realistic outcome can go some places sometimes and it just seems a bit silly to him to assume that neither he nor Fang would at least force civility between the two of them if they really couldn't get along. He doesn't think anyone incapable of something like that would ever catch Chariot's attention in the first place.]
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[Fang scoffs. ]
All of 'em. She's never not worried.
[The possibility would always exist. They were polar opposites in many ways, including some of their values. And they were two individuals of great conviction; if those convictions fell on opposing sides, it would be ugly. ]
Guess we'll have to do our best not to worry her, yeah?
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[It's a non-serious answer that likely couldn't be farther from the truth. Some might criticize him for not knowing her name for so long, and they would probably be right to do as much, but it allowed Ozymandias to form his own opinion of Fang. Not that he wouldn't have done the same with the knowledge of who she is, but having some time without concern of how it would impact Chariot allowed it to be so sooner rather than later.]
[He shakes his head a little.]
Really, she should be more concerned that we will get along too well.
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Ain't that the truth. Things're much more dangerous that way.
[She turns a grin to him, with no small amount of mischievous in it. ]
She once asked me how awkward something she'd just said once, one a scale of one to ten. A while back, not long after we Bonded.
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She persisted in addressing me as "Your Highness" for nearly a month after we became lovers. Had I never said anything before or after, I'm not entirely certain she would have ever stopped.
[When he said earlier that he finds amusement in watching others figure out how they should address him? Chariot was definitely top of the list. She flustered so easily back then with the most minor of provocations.]
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Sounds like her. I accused her of teasing me one time, and she just about had a meltdown.
[Fang laughs a little softer this time, glancing towards the harbor again. ]
That woman's too gentle for her own good.
[Fang doesn't say it unfondly.]
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And yet, I think we would both be hard-pressed to find anyone in this place stronger than her. [She certainly wouldn't be able to keep up with the pair of them if she was any less than she is, he thinks.] It is good to see that such gentleness can continue despite everything.
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