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[He has a headache.

Which really isn't anything new, nowadays. Sunday feels like the whole world besides him has gone a little mad. Even his darling sister had somehow been on board, saying that with someone helping with Sunday's duties, maybe he could take more breaks more often.

If only Robin knew.

It feels as though he has more to do than ever now that he has to keep track of what an IPC operative, of all people, is doing in Penacony. For all the flowery words about what this so-called partnership is supposed to achieve, Sunday doesn't trust a single assertion or assurance made by the other party.

Well, at least Aventurine has stayed in the Golden Hour today. And just as he has that thought about the report he'd been given earlier in the day, one of the staff members tentatively enters his office to tell him that Mr. Aventurine is here to see him.]

...send him in, then.

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[He'll consider this venture a success if only because it managed to get Aventurine to stop holding onto him and wander over to the edge of the ship instead.

And if he tried leaping from the ship, he'd only cause Sunday a headache and chaos in whatever hour he managed to land in. So long as Ena continued to cradle the dreams in THEIR hands, death could not touch them.]

I do enjoy the view.

[Whether or not that's for sentimental reasons, he doesn't elaborate on, and instead walks close enough to peer down at the view the lights and buildings far, far below.]

Most people will never get to see Penacony like this. Does that help your understanding at all, Mr. Aventurine?

( Does it? He thinks, that even if he were on a ship far above Pier Point, the view wouldn't be this blinding. He thinks, Penacony is too artificial. From the way it's built, to the skies above that resemble no real sky, there's nothing about it that truly calls back to the real world.

He knows arguments can be made, on this. That Penacony is a dream, and why limit oneself to reality when the world of dreams can be anything one wishes for it to be? Dreams are only temporary, however. A solace from the real world, unfair as though it might be. But dreams don't build experience, only cloud reason and feed ignorance.

As sweet as Penacony is, too much of it would only make one sick, wouldn't it? )

It certainly tells me it's a nicer place from down below than high up. ( The view is nice, he stands for it. But it's a lot like looking at something entirely too made up, almost soulless. ) What do you see, when you look at Penacony from here?

Hm. A good deal of hard work come to fruition.

[Sunday would know how tirelessly Penacony is run. There are many cogs that keep it all running smoothly.

Not to mention the founding story of how it all came to be, but it's not readily evident if he's speaking on the inspiration for Clockie and his friends or not.]

And a reminder of just how cruel the world continues to be.

( Something he finds ironic to hear, considering Penacony's overall story. Perhaps the hard work began all the way back when it was still a frontier prison, entirely too forgotten by the IPC, and reclaimed by its last remaining prisoners, alongside Nameless who had stumbled upon it. It's history that doesn't quite involve Aventurine, despite his position. He's just an employee, and despite all, not all the most loyal one.

He enjoys the parallels, however. Between him and Sunday, and the IPC and Penacony. )

Escapism, then. As I thought. ( No one helps maintain a dream this sweet without a reason. The other Family heads might be one thing, but Sunday has always been one of the people the IPC had their eyes on, for one reason or another.

He turns to look at him, then, to really look at him, as though through gaze alone Aventurine could see past whatever mask Sunday wears. ) You never told me what is it that you're running from, in the real world. Do you just think the world is unfair, and therefore living in a dream is easier? Do you really think Penacony is fair?

[The IPC and Penacony have been intertwined since the latter's creation. It's a fact many prefer to ignore, or consider as nothing more than history, but it's inescapable.

He meets Aventurine's searching look with a small smile, representatives of their respective factions at odds once again.]

No. It's not fair.

[Sunday had certainly experienced enough in his position to know that much.]

Despite being a dream, it exists in the same world full of pitfalls as everything else, and reflects some of it. But there's a reason a visit here is so prized, and I think that's worth pursuing.

( Not ignorant, then. With this, at least Aventurine can see Sunday in a better light, that he's not so blind to all the fouls and faults his dear Penacony has. Even as the Hours go by underneath them, a sea of vibrant lights and dream particles, that the world beneath and around them lacks any sort of meaningful reality to it makes that so-called prize feel much too tasteless. )

Is that so? ( Aventurine hums in response, his eyes drifting down and off the airship, admiring the way they fly above the people with a particular distaste to it. ) I guess I've got to make my purpose here to find that reason. Ah - but we're meant to be seen as a pair, yes? Then there's no reason why you shouldn't help me with it.

( A nigh-impossible challenge, for what it's worth. The very core of Penacony is already something Aventurine disagrees with. )

Trust me even a little bit, Mr. Sunday. I have already been given away by the IPC. When the world has turned its back on you, isn't Penacony the place where people like me should turn to?

Oh, certainly.

[There's something lurking underneath Sunday's blithely polite tone, although he doesn't look away from where he's watching the scenery of the hours pass them by below.]

The Family and the tenants of Harmony have open arms for all who seek solace. I'm certainly no different to anyone who sincerely is wishing for a safe haven and trust.

[Of course, he doesn't believe Aventurine has a single grain of sincerity about why he's here or what he's really after.]

( It's the heavy intonation that makes Aventurine widen his smile, and, for it's irony, a sincere one at that, too. What Sunday doesn't know is that, had he been found by the Harmony and the Family at certain points of his life, he would have loved Penacony just as sincerely. A safe haven, an escape, a way to turn off the plague of nightmares that have haunted him for one too many years.

They're truly ships passing in the night, aren't they? Missed opportunities. Men who have just enough similarities as they do differences. They do say likes repel for a reason. )

Then in your sincere opinion, [ stressed in the same fashion, as Aventurine turns his gaze back to Sunday once more, something inscrutable behind his eyes, ] what hope is left for me? Should I repent, and turn to the Harmony so Xipe can find it in THEIR grace to welcome me into their beautiful dream? Ah, of course, I'm asking you as Sunday, not as the head of the Oak Family. If you want me to be more sincere, you might as well set an example, right?

You speak as though you are willing and eager for the escape you previously derided.

[On the surface at least. There could be desperation hidden underneath all the rest of what Aventurine is, but Sunday doesn't think it's quite that either.

Of course, the other doesn't know how sympathetic Sunday would be to that past plight in the first place. Aventurine is a perfect living example of what happens when the strong exploit the weak, of everything he is going to great, great lengths to never see come to pass again.]

Trust is mutual, Mr. Aventurine. Ask me that question again when you mean what you say, and not just hypotheticals.

Eager? Not quite. But it's through mutual understanding that we can really connect with someone else, isn't it?

( Mutual understanding and mutual trust - only one step away from mutual benefit, and is that not what Aventurine prefers to employ the most, both in life and for work? But he knows, too, that what makes this game all the more challenging is that is not simply the lack of trust in between them, but the underlying animosity that runs so much deeper.

And, of course, to Aventurine, perhaps that's why he was picked for the job, far more than his acting skills and unmatched luck. He finds the defiance fun, all things considered, and hardly a threat. This is just another game he has to win, and therefore: )

Let's swear by it, then. I will live my days as a Penaconian immigrant, and see with my own eyes what makes it so worth living - or should I say dreaming? ( Haha... Just a casual joke, to lighten up the mood, really. ) And then, let's see... For the next two months, why don't we set our differences aside, and truly try to build some trust between us? At the end of these two months, I will ask that question again, and you will answer it honestly. How about it?

That's hardly different than what we're meant to be doing already. This whole...partnership, I mean.

[Although that's a farce, and they both know it. Aventurine is offering to make it genuine, for a reason Sunday can't quite parse.

But the real root of the problem is that neither of them can be sure if anything offered is a morsel of truth or poisoned bait.]

Are you really going to take me at my word now, if only because you want to hear my answer?

Is it? I suppose on a surface level. Both of us know it's hardly how it was really going to go.

( To everyone else but them, sure. Playing nice, all smiles and polite words, people of opposite factions who have managed to find a common ground. How truly outstanding the head of the Oak family is.

In reality, however, Sunday wears a mask as skillfully as Aventurine does, perhaps. Like his smiles never quite reach his ears, and his words aren't always full of sincerity. A jigsaw puzzle Aventurine would love to unravel, is how he sees him. )

What's the point of asking me a question if you have a predetermined assumption of me? If I say 'no', you will think that's only expected of someone like me. If I say 'yes', you might try to believe me, but it's going to be hard, won't it?

Instead, ( and Aventurine pauses here for a moment, a smirk rising on his face at the irony of it all, ) make a gamble, Mr. Sunday. Take a risk, this one won't kill you. Is it not tiring to follow everything to the letter? Who knows, maybe it will even make you feel better than you have in years.

[Sunday's eyebrow raises minutely at Aventurine saying it outright. Well, maybe he is putting a few of his cards on the table, so to speak.]

Kill me? No, it certainly won't. But if you're admitting what we both already know, then you should also be aware that I'd be risking Penacony.

[As the head of the Oak family, he's sharply aware that any gaps in his armor are a metaphorical death sentence--and that's merely from the rest of the Family heads, much less an outside organization.]

Give an inch and the IPC takes a whole planet. I have to wonder if you're really putting up an equally valuable bet, Mr. Aventurine.

Isn't that what makes the gamble all the more exciting? ( To a crazed gambler like him, yes. It's more of a show of character than a proper statement.

Aventurine hums in feigned thought, pretending to wage his options. Give an inch and the IPC takes a whole planet, huh. Talk about an understatement. But an employee of a mega-corporation does not speak for itself. He's simply a piece in the chessboard, a cog in the machine. Easily disposable, as he had been.

Penacony is the foundation of Sunday's goals, he wagers; Aventurine has nothing quite like that - Aventurine has, in fact, very little at all that could be even remotely compared to that -, and so he wonders, something of equal value... )

Let's see... If you convince me to the charms of Penacony, I will send the IPC a letter of resignation. ( Spoken with a particular calmness, despite the weight of his words. ) Even you yourself think that's the better option, don't you? The company is famous as it's infamous, but Penacony houses anyone with no discrimination.

And for people like me, ( without anywhere to go, no family to return to - but nothing Aventurine quite specifies, ) there's no better place to be. Another soul saved; does that not appeal to you?

Is that something you can simply do?

[Well, from Sunday's understanding, anyone could, theoretically, resign from the IPC any time they want. Whether or not their life is anything above miserable afterward is the real question. And based on what he's been able to glean investigating Aventurine before he came to Penacony, the other has some unique circumstances behind his employment.

If it could be called that.

But that does mean his offer is of similar weight as Sunday's home. A life for a life. Sunday wonders briefly how far off-script Aventurine is going with his little ploy, or if the IPC expected this out of him all along.]

That requires a good deal more than simply convincing someone of the benefits of the dream world. But if you really want to be saved from your position, it would be...remiss of me not to try.

[And that does have the tiniest grain of truth buried in the center of it, like the sand that eventually makes a pearl. Aventurine is an adversary equally as he is someone who's been trampled by the very same senseless exploitation from the powerful that Sunday is trying to eliminate.]

Is it not? Haha, I guess you've never really been employed before, have you? ( A dismissive jest, all things considered, because Sunday is right. It isn't something he can simply do.

The IPC doesn't allow its higher ranks to simply file a letter of resignation and let their employees go on their merry way. The reason why such thing doesn't happen often is not even for the consequences that come with the daring desire to leave the company, but that there's nothing else outside of the IPC.

And that, exactly, is what he's offering Sunday on a silver plate. A man with no family or home to return to, freed from the shackles of the IPC, who has tasted misery on his tongue, and been subjected to more suffering than many who currently walk on the bright streets of Penacony right below them.

Ironic, isn't it? That for the first time, his life is a chip of high value. )

Always a pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Sunday. ( A hand extended, for Sunday to take it if he so wishes. ) I do quite look forward for what you have in store for me. Hmm~ I guess we could say my life is in your capable hands, right?

Not in the traditional sense, but I imagine your resignation would have similar consequences as mine.

[The fallout would be...substantial. And that's before Sunday considers how all his plans would go up in smoke if he quit now. Neither the Family nor Order's remnants would take kindly to it.

Sunday considers the offered hand, briefly, before taking it. He's still not convinced this isn't some part of the IPC's greater plan but...sometimes traps must be dismantled from the inside. And on the off-chance it's not, then Sunday really is willing to help Aventurine in whatever way he can.]

I suppose we could, Mr. Aventurine. I don't take that lightly.

No. Of course you don't. You're far too kind, after all.

( Assumed, or implied. Or maybe even teased, which he figures is how Sunday would see his statement as. Something akin to a joke, as though he pokes fun at him. He does not at all, but sees no reason to explain himself.

The hold on Sunday's hand is a tad too long, perhaps uncomfortable, as Aventurine keeps the eye-contact, too. He only breaks it to bring his gaze at their joined hands, the swift shift as his fingers reach tentatively into Sunday's sleeves.

He knows it's an exercise in failure, but it's the attempt itself that counts. )

Don't you think that's exactly why I have made such a wager? Just like all the people below us, you would... Hmm... cherish my life just as much, I suppose. Am I wrong?

[Sunday is about to speak, either to actually reply to what Aventurine has said or to tell him he should let go, when he feels the sensation of the other's gloves on the skin of his inner wrist.

It's a close thing, but he manages to bite back the full-body flinch and the instinct to snatch his hand back, but the stiff way he drops Aventuirne's hand and pulls away easily reveals he's not very fond of that kind of close contact.]

...You're not wrong.

[About how Sunday cares for all the lives milling around in the dream below them, at least. Kindness, on the other hand....well. To Sunday's ears, it doesn't sound like Aventurine means it wholly as a compliment. And Sunday doesn't think it's quite an accurate word, either.]

Maybe even a little more, considering you all but handed it over to me.

Then that means I have nothing to worry about.

( Which, unfortunate for Sunday, Aventurine is known for not being the most sane of mind.

What he considers is: the airship is flying above Penacony, several meters off the ground, and "Death" does not exist in it. He knows well how it works, has tried it himself while in his touring - but it's still a bet that has his heart racing at the thought.

With no word nor warning does Aventurine move towards the figurehead - which of course is a huge bird, what else would it be? -, steady on his feet as he climbs on it with a particular tranquility, despite the fall underneath. It's a beautiful view, all things considered. Only a fool would think otherwise of the illustrious Penacony, the perfect Dream vacation - pun intended.

It's only a shame there's no refreshing breeze. )

Why don't you join me? Consider it a test, or perhaps your first day on duty. "Death" does not exist in Penacony, but ( and here, Aventurine throws a pointed look at the sea of lights underneath, ) I'm sure you wouldn't want to see me endanger myself, right? If I am to trust you, Sunday, then you have to show me your word is worth it.

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sorry for the wait, took a break in nov and then holidays. hope you had a good one if you celebrate!

No worries! My long weekend and holiday was good, I hope you had a relaxing time too!

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happy new year! hope the holidays treated you well!

hny!! my holiday was p relaxing, I hope yours was too!

it was ty!! i've been busy with catching up but thankfully i should be around more now 🥹