[He's known love. Quiet, comfortable love. Love that never asks for anything in return. A simple thing, like a flower growing from asphalt, wanting to be nurtured and cared for.]
[So what is this, then? This feeling laid bare? Is it love? It's something, as bitter as ash on the tongue. It's not quiet or comfortable, but like they're two atoms hovering next to each other, ready to bind together and explode. There's a tension that has yet to be appeased, a friction that grates and chafes and pushes deep into viscera. If it is love, its a violent, self-destructive thing. He's killed many people time and time again to the point where their faces have blurred, but Lobelia? He's something concrete, a smile and a laugh to be burned permanently in the back of his mind. Lobelia has put his hooks into him to the point he has bypassed all the walls he so carefully put up.]
[A worm, through and through.]
[He finally glances over at the man, his voice low. His tone burns as much as Lobelia does.]
[It's much easier to imagine their future in his mind than it is to piece together what it is he feels for Vergilius in certain terms. Lobelia knows what it feels like to be inextricably bound, to have made up his mind, to make promises that will never be broken.
Promising eternity to Vergilius is not unlike the promise he made to his parents: I'll pursue happiness at any cost. His happiness lies within this man, lies down the path ahead of them, and he won't get there without following his guiding light. If Lobelia is certain of anything, it's that where they belong is togetherβ from now into eternity.
Lobelia stops, turns on his heel to face Vergilius. Burning words, burning gaze. Though Vergilius may scald him, Lobelia will never be left wanting for warmth so long as they remain inextricably linked.]
[He also issues this as naturally as any fact. This is a certainty in his mind. So, it's a bit paradoxical to him. He knows Lobelia knows that.]
[That's the madness of the man. His logic left him a long time ago, lost in his beloved, horrific obsession of sound. Then again, isn't he mad, too? Mad for standing here, mad for engaging in this, mad for giving Lobelia things like his body and soul on a silver platter? He doesn't want Lobelia to follow. (Does he want him to follow...? He is a guide, a shade of a guide, he must show the way....)]
[He continues to stare, lips pulled back in a tight scowl.]
Where will be your eternity then once that happens? Tell me that.
[That anger truly is the gift that keeps on giving. Lobelia smiles, head innocently tipped to one side, and takes his time to appraise Vergilius' anger. That sneer, teeth gritted and poised to tear flesh from bone, and oh, how Lobelia wishes he would rend him where he stands.]
Where yours is, Vergilius. We're bound for the same place, you and I, and that much was true even before we met.
[Men who live only to destroy have no place among the clouds. When they burn eternally for their sins, they'll be burning together.]
You know... The longer you linger here, simmering in your furie, the fewer excuses I can make for our union. Facts are immutable things, so rather than fight it, why don't you take some time away to let it soak in? Relax!
[He'll kindly let Vergilius go for now, but oh, he'll be back for him. If anything is certain, it's that Lobelia will return for what is his.]
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no subject
[So what is this, then? This feeling laid bare? Is it love? It's something, as bitter as ash on the tongue. It's not quiet or comfortable, but like they're two atoms hovering next to each other, ready to bind together and explode. There's a tension that has yet to be appeased, a friction that grates and chafes and pushes deep into viscera. If it is love, its a violent, self-destructive thing. He's killed many people time and time again to the point where their faces have blurred, but Lobelia? He's something concrete, a smile and a laugh to be burned permanently in the back of his mind. Lobelia has put his hooks into him to the point he has bypassed all the walls he so carefully put up.]
[A worm, through and through.]
[He finally glances over at the man, his voice low. His tone burns as much as Lobelia does.]
What do you imagine for us, then?
no subject
Promising eternity to Vergilius is not unlike the promise he made to his parents: I'll pursue happiness at any cost. His happiness lies within this man, lies down the path ahead of them, and he won't get there without following his guiding light. If Lobelia is certain of anything, it's that where they belong is togetherβ from now into eternity.
Lobelia stops, turns on his heel to face Vergilius. Burning words, burning gaze. Though Vergilius may scald him, Lobelia will never be left wanting for warmth so long as they remain inextricably linked.]
ΓternitΓ©. Pour toujours. There's no turning around and going back from where we've come. No matter where you go, you can be certain that I'll follow.
[He issues his answer as naturally as any fact. This, unlike the true depths of his feelings, is a certainty in his mind.]
no subject
[He also issues this as naturally as any fact. This is a certainty in his mind. So, it's a bit paradoxical to him. He knows Lobelia knows that.]
[That's the madness of the man. His logic left him a long time ago, lost in his beloved, horrific obsession of sound. Then again, isn't he mad, too? Mad for standing here, mad for engaging in this, mad for giving Lobelia things like his body and soul on a silver platter? He doesn't want Lobelia to follow. (Does he want him to follow...? He is a guide, a shade of a guide, he must show the way....)]
[He continues to stare, lips pulled back in a tight scowl.]
Where will be your eternity then once that happens? Tell me that.
no subject
Where yours is, Vergilius. We're bound for the same place, you and I, and that much was true even before we met.
[Men who live only to destroy have no place among the clouds. When they burn eternally for their sins, they'll be burning together.]
You know... The longer you linger here, simmering in your furie, the fewer excuses I can make for our union. Facts are immutable things, so rather than fight it, why don't you take some time away to let it soak in? Relax!
[He'll kindly let Vergilius go for now, but oh, he'll be back for him. If anything is certain, it's that Lobelia will return for what is his.]