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If Veritas were asked to choose one thing about Aventurine he hated the most, the list would be extensive and the time it’d take to decide on one would be tiresome; therefore, as a man of many endeavors, he’d simply refrain from answering and put his effort where it was needed.
But if he had to choose one—in a scenario where there was no escape—then perhaps Veritas would play along and do so, even if the arduous task required his valuable time. Veritas, however, was a man that took pride in his work and being meticulous was a necessity in his opinion. Therefore, a half-hearted attempt to please this imaginary person in this imaginary task would prove Veritas to be lazy—he wouldn’t allow that.
First, he’d begin by simply stating the obvious—Aventurine was a showboat. He was a man that spent more time showing off his riches than actually enjoying them, like a child attempting to show off his ice cream to incite envy from other children, only for it to melt before it could be eaten. It was foolish to assume that those around him would be jealous enough to care about the million credit watch or the specially made ring with a material from a planet Veritas had no useful knowledge of. “There are only 9 others like it in the universe, Doc. Isn’t it incredible?” he said. No, not particularly. Not to Veritas, at least. He was a man that enjoyed splurging on items, yes, but he preferred more functional ones such as rare books or delicate, fancy soaps that made his baths more enjoyable. Riches, in Veritas’s opinion, were not necessary when those riches were used to fill a void created by extreme loss had yet to be treated. And, no , that treatment could not include the use of hard liquors as a device to simply forget those troubles.
Next, Aventurine’s self-esteem was severely low. And while, yes, Aventurine put on airs with his expensive jewelry and overpriced shoes and tacky clothing made with materials that cost an exorbitant amount of credits—the man believed himself to be worth so little he was willing to gamble using his life as the prize. And even if others could not see him for what he was—a man so traumatized from the extinction of his people that he’d succumb to the guilt and throw himself into danger’s way, simply because he thought he deserved it—Veritas could . Veritas recognized the survivor’s guilt the second Aventurine placed a gun in his hand and pointed it to his own chest and pulled the godforsaken trigger because “It’s just a game, Doc.” — (he had gotten over it, he wasn’t sure why he continued to allow himself to ruminate in the memory, hands still shaking when he thinks too hard about it because he could have killed him.)
Lastly, what Veritas hated most of all—what caused Veritas to fume in contempt—was that Aventurine was callous. He was cruel in how little he cared for others’ feelings for him, any concern for him, in his eyes, deemed unnecessary and fruitless. Aventurine’s moral ambiguity had already made him cold in many ways, but his lack of regard for others’ worry of him was borderline evil. Veritas had been treated like the villain the first time he attempted to help Aventurine, as if his touch had burned and his offerings were poisoned, like Veritas had ever attempted to purposefully hurt him in any way. And when Veritas had tried to talk some sense into him, had tried to shake him and make him understand that he didn’t have to take the pain, he didn’t deserve the pain—that Veritas cared about him, “Please, just let me help you” —it had fallen on deaf ears.
(But, in secret, something that Veritas would never dare to admit, despite Aventurine’s faux sense of superiority, ostentatious display of luxury and grandeur, and proclivity for death —
—was that he didn’t actually hate anything about Aventurine; not at all.
Because deep down, even if he was broken and beaten so roughly by those around him that took advantage of his desperation—that used him until he became so useless they either threw him away like trash or forced him to carry out the same atrocities that were perpetuated against him—he was kind. He was intelligent. He was complex. And he was beautiful.)