Star Maple
Addam studies Minoth with a winsome eye, as the Flesh Eater asserts himself into the Aegis-hailing party. He's always had more a mind for figures than for analogies; for symbols than for symbolism, say, and Minoth's cleverness, of course, delights him to no end, but just now he wishes there were something he could...
Claim? Is that right?
Were he to have awakened Minoth himself, would he have been happy? Would they have gotten on, right from the start - or at all?
Would they have had the same kind of relationship, tense yet easygoing, falling in and out of each other's pockets but in a dignified way, and always - dare he say it - very much undeniably in love?
Because that's what a Driver-Blade bond should be, isn't it? A love relationship, of some kind. And maybe Addam allows himself crucial exception, with the Aegis, because the Aegis is the Aegis, and that's bloody well terrifying, but if he'd had to have any single Blade, he'd certainly want Minoth.
Would Minoth, the stormy-eyed rogue, want him?
"Not just darkness, but stars..."
The bright, grim-shaded stereotype of some lost age of Morytha's birthworld, which they know so little about (only that Judicium had its hooks, and that's nowhere anyone wants to be, nearly), Minoth is not necessarily ostentatious, but he is glittering, gleaming, singular.
"Stars forged from the sun's electricity."
"You give me far too much credit."
"You won't allow me the privilege of being a Blade?"
"I thought you wouldn't allow it yourself."
"I make my own exceptions."
"I know you do."
"I'm nothing without you."
"Now...that's not true."
Concerning that he should say it...
And is it only convenient, that Addam hosts Armu and Ardun on his country estate, which he feels so truly blessed to have even though the fact of it is quite conflicting? Is it only easy, that the cowboy chews the fat on the farm, and has opportunity for having no opportunity at all, because when you've had no freedom what is better than simply lazing about?
(Lots of things are better. Spending the fine prince's money, perennially, for instance, in the city - golden city! - at his leisure, infinite leisure, until he can make his own by his own infinite merits, which is better still, and he's not poor, but he's never been rich, and Addam would love to just give, and give, and give, especially to Minoth-)
To share and share alike, especially with Minoth.
It's so easy. So natural. So right. It almost feels wrong, to tread upon it so, but it is right, isn't it?
Is it only just so easy?
Or is it something wonderfully more?
Addam is a simple man.
"It's not about justice, though."
Why he writes all these plays, defends all these memories...
"It's not?"
"More compassion, I'd say. I'd like to say, anyway."
Addam smiles to himself, and then not only to himself. What a warm feeling. "I'm not sure I can say I believe you."
"Well, how about...justice by way of compassion?"
Noble, isn't it? In a half-cocked sort of way. Just so.
"Whatever it is, Minoth...you'll always find a way."
"Have I such ingenuity?"
"No - not inherently. But you do have me."
"Oh..." Minoth swats at his arm. "You don't have the half."
Gold and green, gold and green...
Gold and green and red!
And orange - blood orange, a little frightening -, and navy, and a purple that very much isn't royal, but also isn't sinister...is just very Minoth, and after all, isn't that he? Certainly not royal, but something good, buried.
Well. Not buried. But he makes you think as if it must be so.
Oh, confound you, Minoth! Are you contrarian on purpose?
But Addam supposes he can't mind, love to think about his peculiar (handsome!) Blade paramour as he does.
And Minoth does everything he does on purpose. Very powerful, that mind of his is. Maybe his perfect memory will go, one day, but Addam has the feeling that even if he weren't a Blade, he'd be just so sharp.
It's admiration, isn't it? And endlessly so.
Thunder and lightning makes a perfect storm.
Oh, Minoth would never say that. But perhaps Addam will work on it, and one day it'll be a sentiment worthy of the master.
What an artless fool you are, Prince.
"Cliché as it is, sometimes I think we really aren't too different."
"We're as different as the sky is blue, Minoth," Addam chides. "But it's wonderful to hear you say so."
"Mmm...I suppose we're foils."
"Oh? That sounds lovely. Fated to be together?"
"The spark, and the fuse. The quick, empty anger, and the slow-boiling temper."
"You'll analyze us right down to quicks!"
Minoth grins. "Charming, isn't it? Who better to know you than me?"
Volatile though they may be, Addam does love these moods of Minoth's. A stray bit of candor, among the gloom. Stars, in the night.
With all said and done, Addam supposes he still doesn't understand Minoth, and perhaps never will.
That's a frightening thought, isn't it? Surely most Drivers who do try to understand their Blades (those who don't only work mercenary, in the non-mutually lifelong transaction) succeed, eventually. Since Blades are only people. Well, they're much more than just people, with a dimension unto their own, but...wasn't Minoth only just his person?
It's going, now. It's into the wind.
Not a cow on the farm could pin Minoth's star in the sky, and keep him out of dusk.
It's not sense-making, on Addam's part, and it isn't even poetic. It's just...memories.
That much, Addam knows for sure. His beloved - by whichever token(s) - Driver, Minoth will always remember. Until that day, so many years on, when his star finally fades.
And that will have been enough, won't it?
Perhaps Addam isn't so attached to his legacy as Lora was. But it's...nice, to have a Blade who'll outlive his Driver. It shouldn't be, but it is.