Pantalone scoffs. "What's your favorite part then, hmm?"
"When Vodyanitsa's character dies, of course."
"Ah. Naturally."
It is truly a shame that Pierro had the foresight to order the Harbingers to be civil to one another for the duration of the show. If he hadn't, the issue of Sandrone's present company would have been dealt with by the end of the first act. "Has it ever occurred to either of you," she mutters, "that not everyone has seen this play before?"
Pantalone hums lightly. "Opera, actually."
Sandrone is going to kill him.
Alternatively: Sandrone has the misfortune of being seated next to Dottore and Pantalone at the opera. It is perhaps the most horrendous three hours of her entire career.
I TOLD y'all I would write the opera ragebait fic (that's literally what I had it titled as in my drafts lmao). I heard one (1) throwaway line and immediately knew what I had to do
I had so much fun working on this one—it was, admittedly, a bit more difficult to write than I expected on sheer basis of the fact that I only know how to write Dottore and Pantalone suffering, apparently. Still, I somehow prevailed, and honestly, Sandrone needs to be promoted to rank one just for putting up with this and not going postal. I could never
Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this one—I'll be back to the regularly scheduled angst soon <3 Feel free to let me know what you think, and as always, happy reading!!
"What?" the man continues. "Never heard one of your test subjects talk before, doctor?"
And, well, it's not quite that, exactly, because of course this isn't the first time one of his test subjects has spoken to him while on the gurney… it's just that typically, they're wide-eyed and frantic, wasting every ounce of their remaining strength to pointlessly plead for him and his segments to spare their lives.
And yet, this man is different.
He lies strapped to an operating table beneath the cold, clinical gaze and scalpel of the infamously insane second Harbinger, slowly dying of a stab wound, and yet he remains impossibly calm, the ghost of a smile on his lips and his voice smooth as velvet.
How peculiar.
"It's a shame we have to kill this one," 35 remarks. "I find that I quite like him."
Alternatively: A report spanning 380 years, beginning in a laboratory where people go to die. Here is the story of a so-called doctor and the man who is his longest-running experiment.
When I tell y'all that writing this fic had me in corners of the internet I never thought I'd end up in, oh my god. There is literally no reason that I, a student of the humanities, should have been reading research papers about how to perform autopsies and liver transplants, and yet here we are. I am nothing if not committed to the bit
A lot of the scenes in this fic are based on scenes (or reports, really) loosely described in the "Anomalous Tree Marrow I" drop you get from fighting the newest Dottore boss— it starts with reports from the Acute Toxicity Test, which is where Dottore and Pantalone first met, and then proceeds to give what is functionally a timeline of their entire relationship in the form of medical reports, up until the point where Dottore deletes all his segments in his bargain with Nahida. Honestly, I would highly recommend checking out the whole thing either in-game or on the Genshin Wiki, because it is nothing short of fascinating. (Plus there are a lot of other scenes/reports in there that I didn't include in the fic)
The opening scene of this fic is also heavily based on Dottore's statement to Pantalone in the 6.6 Archon Quest of "since the day I met you, you've always exceeded at talking your way out of a quandary," bc I'm kind of obsessed with the implications of it— this man canonically smooth-talked his way out of being poisoned and used as a test subject and ended up as Dottore's longest-running experiment, instead 💀 I literally can't with them
Anyways, I'll shut up now before this gets too long but I am always happy to let y'all pick my brain for any questions about this fic (or any others!)— my ask box, comments, messages, etc. are always open <3
"Eternal life, huh?" Then how come I keep losing people, if immortality is so easy to come by? Sandrone scoffs. Eternity poured into a test tube and distributed to only one, this is our last laugh. We keep each other endlessly, while all you will know is loss.
"It's not as pleasant a thing as one might think," Arlecchino says.
"I don't know; certain parties seem to be enjoying it just fine."
"They are a special case." Immortal by their own design, these wings are not confined to a cage. Here it is a blessing, rather than a curse.
———
Pantalone raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might be the occasion?"
Dottore grins. "Why, my death, of course."
Alternatively: They were not invited to the tea parties, so they created their own. In shades of love and loss, here is a monument of all the things we cannot say.
I apologize in advance if this is incoherent—I'm writing this from the airport rn and my anxiety meds are kicking in as we speak so I am crashing HARD 😅
Anyway, about the fic—I am forever so intrigued by the friendships between the Harbingers, and especially after seeing Sandrone's animated video, I really thought it would be neat to explore the contrast between the tea parties the other Harbingers had, as opposed to the get-togethers Dottore and Pantalone had. And it was neat—it was a very interesting exploration of love and loss that I had a lot more fun with than I expected
I honestly have a lot more to say about this subject, but I'm going to have to cut it short here because my flight is boarding in, like, 15 minutes 😅
Pantalone draws a shaky breath. "I was in your office earlier," he begins, "looking for a copy of your will. You don't have a will. Did you know that?"
Dottore says nothing. Pantalone takes a drag of his cigarette and continues.
"One of your subordinates came in looking for something. He reeked of antiseptic. I had to send him away."
Because he smelled like antiseptic?
"Because he smelled like you."
Alternatively: The funeral proceedings of a man who dared to fly too close to the sun. Forsaken by all, survived by one.
I discovered recently that apparently, Pantalone is frequently depicted as a widow in Commedia dell'arte, and alongside Dottore's line "If nothing else, I expect my funeral will be a grand affair, indeed," I immediately knew that I had to write just that...
So now, I present to y'all the Dottore funeral fic, in which only one person shows up to the funeral in question. As a long-time Dottore fan, I have a lot of thoughts about the way his story ended... he contradicts himself constantly in his words and his actions and it just makes him such a fascinating character in that regard (not to mention an incredibly unreliable narrator)
I also really enjoyed breaking Pantalone's composure with this. He's constantly shown to us as this (sometimes infuriatingly) calm individual, and the idea of that mask slipping is such an interesting one to me. The self he presents to the public is notably different from the self he presents in private interactions with Dottore just from what we see in-game, and I had a lot of fun exploring that with the added element of grief
I hope y'all enjoy this one; please let me know what you think!!
Happy reading <3
-Astralis ❄️
P.S. The next fic involving them may or may not involve Dottore and Pantalone rage baiting Sandrone at the opera because leave it to me to fixate on one (1) throwaway line xD
"You have said yourself that you are the most selfish of all the segments," Pantalone had pointed out, then. "Such an effort doesn't particularly seem to align with this claim."
"Living and dying together has a way of binding two parties together rather closely, as I have said to you many times before." You are a vital organ to my functioning, just as I am to yours. I am keeping you, on borrowed time as we may be. "Is it not selfish of me to want to keep my only friend by my side for far longer than either of us deserves?"
And this, Pantalone been unable to argue with—for how could he, when he, too, holds such a desire? It is only human to want, after all, and to want for the whole soul of another to be inextricably bound to your own is perhaps the most selfish want of all. Such is how a desire as intimate as this one finds itself in the hearts of Teyvat's most heartless men. By the gods who have forsaken us, what a pair in hell we make.
Alternatively: A collection of memories, a timeline of a relationship. Call it what you will; it does not matter—for we are men on borrowed time, and men such as us ought never to have experienced these moments at all.
Honestly, y'all probably saw this one coming, because it is a well-known fact that I maybe kind of like Dottore just a little bit (lol) so naturally, I had a LOT of thoughts after the most recent Archon Quest. And if any of y'all are familiar with my work in the Arcane fandom, you know I am a sucker for the whole unhealthily codependent ambiguous relationship thing, so naturally, I found the whole relationship between Dottore and Pantalone to be just fascinating.
Anyway, obligatory disclaimer of "don't read it if you haven't played the quest yet", but the fic is tagged with spoilers (as is this post) so I figure that's a given.
I hope y'all enjoy this one, because I'm really proud of it (and, like I said, I have SO many thoughts about them). As always, happy reading, and let me know what you think <3
