the most amusing and heartbreaking aspect of obi-wan and anakin's relationship throughout the movies, shows, books, and comics is the perpetual vacillation between harmony and discord, praise and blame. they're always coming together with strong eye contact and affection and then breaking apart and arguing, this perpetual dance of pulling together and pushing away, never completely connecting when close but also always returning back together when ruptured apart. their relationship is such a strong bond (an attachment on both sides) but also so fraught with tension and friction, like there are enormous lies that anakin keeps from obi-wan (and obi-wan can sense the dishonesty), and so much masking from obi-wan about the true depth of his feelings (and anakin can't read him). these kind of misunderstandings they have will prove lethal, but they are also capable of such deep understanding. they are so similar, on such a wavelength, as partners capable of incredible things together, two halves of a whole. all of this in canon is entirely platonic, but it's still a messy relationship that breaks categories, like they're brothers but obi-wan is also a father, they're best friends but obi-wan is also a superior officer, they became men together, but obi-wan is also a teacher and guide. it's unstable but also long-enduring as love and hate for the entirety of both of their lives, with their identities formed in relation to each other and dependent on each other (anakin and obi-wan died together on mustafar, vader and ben were born). when vader kills ben, yoda can feel his pain and loneliness across the galaxy, when yet when obi-wan catches anakin in the afterlife and makes him a force ghost by his side it is perfectly understandable. they maim each other, kill each other, complete and compel each other. it's got to be one of the relationships of all time.
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So, here's the thing:
Tango knows that Zedaph is this close to staging an intervention.
He lies against the wiring for Decked Out and stares at the ceiling. He should probably be more concerned about that. Early-season Tango would be concerned about that; a situation getting bad enough that Zedaph, of all people, is ready to stage an intervention is normally a sign it's gotten pretty dang bad. But he's close. He's so close. And it's not like he's worried, not anymore.
He'd been worried, once? Like, he'd been scared, at some point of what the Frozen Citadel was starting to do to him. But now that he's there--
If he's asked, Tango will say it's mutualism, and not elaborate, because if anyone stages enough of an intervention to stop Decked Out from finishing what it's started, he's probably going to scream. He's probably going to always wonder. Worst of all, he won't finish the game on time. So like, so what if it's eating him a little? Or a lot? Or basically completely, given that he's pretty sure the damage is irreversible at this point?
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Start of the season Tango probably would care more, but like, it's mutual. Decked Out gets to eat Tango. Use him as an appropriate game piece. Sometimes as a processor. To do repairs. Whatever. It's important for the whole process. And Tango gets a sick game. Which, for some, sounds like an absurd trade-off, but it's not just the game, okay?
It's not just--
If it were just "I need to let my accidentally very sentient and very large base eat me to finish the game", he might do it? But he wouldn't, like, be actively conspiring to hide the fact that he's starting to be physically incapable of breathing like, normal oxygen and stuff. He wouldn't be conspiring to hide just how literal the shop item allowing you to control the gamemaster is. He wouldn't be trying to hide how close he is to just--being another part of Decked Out. Not being a "Tango" as an individual, but being a part of the machine. Basically a really fancy redstone component.
If it were just "he's really proud and he'd be sad if it took longer", he wouldn't have hung a sheep on the outside of the building to make sure some part of Decked Out knows that Zedaph is its friend, once there isn't a Tango to remind it of that properly. He would have asked Zedaph to actually do that intervention he's planning.
He didn't. He acted like he had several more weeks than he probably did. But it's fine. Decked Out ate the fear, anyway, so he can't feel it, and whatever sense of desire to like, not be redstone component was probably eaten also, and. And.
He's not sure how to describe it in a way that doesn't make him sound insane, but--
It's so close. Decked Out is so close to eating him completely. And that should be terrifying, if that weren't the first thing that got dissolved away, if he hadn't been scared since forever. Maybe, somewhere, there's part of him that is scared. There's a lot of him that knows he should be.
But those moments, the ones he's having more and more, where he forgets he's Tango. Where he forgets he's anything but part of the machine. And he's part of something big, and great, and he has a specific use, and he's aware for all of it but not aware of being himself, and he can feel exactly how he's important to the great machine and he does his job and absolutely everything else fades away entirely and he is the Game Master and even that's not an individual identity it's part of a whole it's part of something beautiful it's part of something so, so alive while not being alive at all and, and then--and then he's not done being eaten yet. And the Tango comes in. The fear, the insecurity, the, the flaws.
And he'd just lie there, and he'd feel it. The almost-just-a-part. The sense of just--being, and not being anyone in particular, but being. The lack of self. He'd feel the voltage from the redstone wires and try to capture it again, and be unable to, not on his own.
Not while he's left as Tango, at least a little bit uneaten.
So. Uh. He told you he didn't know how to describe it without sounding insane. But he'll never forgive himself. Never forgive himself if he doesn't find out what happens when it's done. What it's like to just--be a part of Decked Out and nothing else. What it feels like to give in completely.
Therefore. Zedaph. Intervention. Pretend he's better than he is so Zedaph doesn't do that. It shouldn't be long now. The amount of time he's aware and Tango is--less. The amount of fear is--it's entirely gone now. The amount he thinks "gee beginning of season Tango would say this is a bad plan" is almost zero.
The game is almost ready to open.
If he can just hold out that long, then there won't be anything anyone could do.
They'll be too busy having fun with the game, anyway. With any luck, no one will notice.
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