#unfortunately the fact that he looks exactly like gretto is one of the things melvi can't stand the most

[boundlss]

"I was made to upset you. I'd be more surprised if you weren't."

It's a cold response, but Melvi is what he is. Even at his most amicable, he'd never quite mastered the art of speaking kindly.

For most people, this event is a party. For Melvi, a lions' den filled with many people who don't know how to let go of a grudge---not that Melvi, stubborn and set in his ways as he is, is any better. Were he a less emotional person, he might not have come at all, and he's beginning to regret that Luck had extended an invitation to him at the first place.

Melvi knows his own tendencies, after all. He won't step gingerly around the sleeping lions. He'll poke and prod them until they bare their fangs. That's how it will always be.

That said, he can't come up with a single thing aside from that to say to hurt Maiza more than his very existence does. Nothing that doesn't put a foul taste in his mouth, anyway.

If I hurt Maiza Avaro, I'm doing exactly what I was made for. I refuse to be their puppet even after all this time.

"And that isn't my fault. You're right." Melvi decides to remain as neutrally cold as he can, de-clawed as he currently is. "I'd like to think I've done a very good job of completely avoiding your whole family tonight, so I graciously apologize that not even distance can make up for the fact that my very existence makes you want to cry."

He's probably thinking about his brother. Frankly, Maiza isn't the first Avaro to constantly remind Melvi of how similar he looks to Gretto.

It's not my fault. I didn't have a say in it. I certainly didn't ask to be created. I didn't ask to come here, or to be gawked at all night. Who cares if it makes Luck happy that I'm putting in an effort? He's not the one who has to loiter about while the people who actually belong here look at him like he's not to be trusted, or like he's bringing down the atmosphere simply by standing there and staying out of the way.

"In any case, I'm not sure what you want me to say to that. You're certainly not the only person who finds me difficult to be around. At least they seem to only have an issue with me because of something I did."

Feeling himself grow hot, Melvi takes a breath, stepping back. If not for the fact that he didn't want to cause a scene that Luck would have to deal with, he probably would have stepped over the line without even meaning to.

Evil will commit evil, I suppose. There isn't any changing that.

"You're in luck, at least. I have no desire to stay here when it's clear I'm not wanted. Congratulations, your burden-free festivities can begin shortly." Unable to help himself from driving the passive-aggressive knife in a little further, Melvi takes a short, light bow as he steps back.

maiza feels guilty for staring when melvi is across the room, but he cannot help the way his eye is drawn to him against his will. he looks so much like gretto, && it tugs painfully at his heartstrings.

he averts his eyes when he realizes that his gaze has narrowed && sharpened into a glare, but it's too late. the damage is done. so he excuses himself from the conversation he's been tuned out of for the past minute or so with a mumbled apology, && takes a moment to compose himself.

breathing shallowed, maiza weighs his options. he can simply leave ; that would be the easy option, but then again, this is a festa hosted by the martillos. he shouldn't have to run away from his own party, especially not from melvi dormentaire. so he nudges his glasses up on his nose && walks over, trying to keep his expression neutral.

he spots berga gandor across the room, watching him, && the taller man leans in to mutter something to his wife, whose eyes dart over to maiza, && then whispers back. feeling self conscious, maiza looks away. the last thing he wants to do is cause a scene. "luck," he says to the youngest gandor, clearing his throat as he approaches. "i'm sorry. excuse us a moment."

now alone with melvi, still feeling far more exposed than he'd like, maiza exhales. "i wish," he starts, then stops, biting his tongue. "i truly wish... the circumstances... they're of a sort that..." he plucks his glasses off his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. he's never felt so inarticulate. but before he can continue, melvi cuts him off, as if predicting what he's attempting to say.

❛ i am what i am. you cannot be angry with a stove for heating the house. ❜

maiza bows his head. you just look so much like my dead brother is a terribly unfair response, even to melvi. && with the time that's passed, you tried to kill firo, && you would've tried to kill me won't cut it either. in a room of ninety percent immortals, melvi wouldn't be able to set foot inside alveare if anyone still considered him a threat.

but it's not really about that at all, is it? not his treacherous intentions in 1935. it's what melvi represents — who he resembles, yes, but more than that, what it would have meant, had he succeeded. in 1930, a 200+ year guilt && heartache had finally eased. knowing that gretto's memories — && soul, if one believed in such things — had been laid to rest inside firo, a person who maiza cares for, trusts, && perhaps even sees as a little brother in his own right had been a miracle he'd never expected. but it had brought forth a new guilt, the curse of immortality bestowed upon firo, eased only by firo's insistence that he was thrilled by it. but had melvi devoured him — stealing firo's life, && gretto's memories — that, alone, would have killed maiza too. && that is a fear he's never been able to fully let go of.

"i'm not angry," maiza says finally, which may not be true but is how it should be. he knows that. he's older than melvi, in appearance && years, && he shouldn't be handling this with such immaturity. "i just find it.... very, very difficult to see you here, knowing everything that..." he sighs. "but it's not your fault. the problem, && the difficulty, lies with me && me alone. this is my burden to shoulder, && honestly, melvi... i have no interest in being your friend. i'm sure you feel the same about me. but despite my reservations, you've clearly earned the respect of people who are my friends, && i have to come to terms with that."

he replaces his glasses, && forces a smile. "so i'm not angry. i don't even hate you. i only..." the laugh he lets out is broken && sounds more like a choked down sob. "i'm sad. that's it. that's as honest as i can be."

deathless . / @redeulogy