IF WE AMASS ENOUGH SHITPOSTS NO ONE CAN READ OUR SHAME

[conchy]

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[immortalpoet]

Huh. One wonders how you don't fall down.

[It would be a very, very long way to fall down.]

[He tilts his head, pursing his lips, trying to imagine it - there isn't even anything like airplanes in the world of the City, so imagining people in the sky is a farfetched idea, indeed.]

Is there no land below the islands? Or is that all there is?

[conchy]

Heheh! Some islands are large enough to boast their own oceans. Falling off would be more difficult than not.

[Charmed by the way Vergilius' expression twists in an effort to imagine a concept so foreign, Lobelia chuckles, resting his head on his shoulder.]

The Earthly Realm resides at the very bottom, but it's not a place the living can freely travel to. Some will cast their dead to the Earth as a rite funéraire, but no one who has traveled there has ever returned.

[immortalpoet]

And there are multiple islands like that? Seems like a wide, wide world. Then again, the City on its own is a rather big place...

[He heaves a little huff of a sigh at the other's head on his shoulder, but he doesn't push him or shrug him off. Lobelia's hair tickles, he thinks, offhandedly.]

Sounds like the Outskirts at home. Though you don't fall down towards those...hrm. [Another moment of silence.] How...do you get around, actually? Does everyone fly?

[conchy]

[The cool breeze coming off the lake is surprisingly chilly, but then again, they are sitting around naked. Can Vergilius really blame Lobelia for snuggling up under these conditions?]

Oui! Sailing the skies is necessary to travel from island to island. The affluent and well to do have their own private ships, but for the common rabble, there are ships waiting at every skyport.

[Lobelia hums curiously, peeking up at Vergilius.]

I'm assuming you have never traveled the sky in such a fashion, given your question.

[immortalpoet]

Sail...

[Like a boat...? His eyebrows are furrowing, clearly not understanding. As he's trying to imagine this, he's leaning in, also naturally drawn to the warmth from the light chill around them. Vergilius's nose brushes against the other's forehead, before drawing back.]

No. There's no such thing. Only birds and other such animals can fly.

[conchy]

[The small tragedies just keep piling up, don't they? Only birds roaming the vast, open skies... No wonder the City is such a restrictive place. No one can truly enjoy the world for what it is from within the confines of a cage. With a dramatic sigh, Lobelia closes his eyes and leans further into Vergilius' side.]

Quelle tristesse! How do the people of the City travel? By foot alone?

[immortalpoet]

No. We have vehicles. Cars, buses, trucks, the like. There's also the Warp Trains, but that fetches a hefty price for a ticket.

[Not that he would know, but do Not Use Warp Trains, Please.]

Boats on the water, too, of course. But nothing flying. What...does it feel like?

[conchy]

[Now it's Lobelia's turn to look a little confused, humming in consternation. Cars, buses, trucks... He imagines they function similarly to the go karts, but perhaps one day he'll see these vehicles with his own eyes? Eternity lasts a long, long time, so anything is possible.]

From a practical standpoint, it doesn't feel much different than making forward momentum in another véhicule. Still...

[...That's not quite what Vergilius wants to hear, is it? That's not the sort of explanation that will let his mind wander. Lobelia smiles, settling on a better alternative.]

It feels freeing in the way that so few things truly are. After disembarking, it's hard not to envie birds who have the freedom to fly whenever and wherever they please.

[immortalpoet]

Mm.

[Lobelia is right. It does make his mind wonder. To think there are worlds out there where the skies are something people can traverse as easy as anything...]

[To become like a bird, and go far far away, and never have to worry about anything else ever again...]

I guess I'll...take your word for it.

[conchy]

[Ah... Did he paint too pleasant a mental image? Lobelia's smile pulls wry, squeezing the hand in his grip.]

Do you truly envision yourself moving from cage to cage for the rest of your existence? Flying isn't only for the birds, nor is freedom.

[immortalpoet]

That's what I've accepted.

[Perhaps that's a sad thing to say. But he's already at a point where he's made peace with his own wretched existence. In the end, he's only good for what might become of his dream....maybe.]

There's no such thing as freedom in the City.

[conchy]

[Is it sad? Sure, but it comes as little surprise to Lobelia. Given what he knows of the man, it's no surprise that he's kept himself behind those rusty bars by choice. There's a reason for it, he's certain, but still...]

...You've accepted the loss of your freedom for the sake of something else, non? What is so great that you would make such sacrifices?

[immortalpoet]

...

[His throat feels very dry.]

[What is so great, indeed...?]

[He closes those red eyes, looking a little pained.]

You...wouldn't understand.

[conchy]

[As much as he would love to argue otherwise, he's certain Vergilius is right. This man is a monster only by design, building up defenses and scars to protect that vulnerable, bleeding heart. Someone like himself could never understand... and yet he desires to anyway. What a number this man has done on him.

Well then, if he had to make an educated guess...]

Who are you guiding?

[That must be it, surely. What people like Vergilius live for is others, for what happiness and freedom other human beings can represent. He feels he understands the man well enough to know that much.]

[immortalpoet]

...

[Who is he guiding?]

[His voice is a little hoarse as he answers.]

A Company. [...] Sinners. [...] A young lady.

[That's the truth, really. He is their guide. And yet, its much deeper than that. Their goal, what they mean to retrieve...]

...I need to go back.

[conchy]

Je comprends.

[Lobelia delivers his answer firmly but without any particular intonation. If his dear âme soeur has a dream that must be achieved, naturally, he is going to lend him whatever aid he has. This is the man who saved him, after all, and the only thing Lobelia has left worth caring for.

With that, he lifts his head and locks eyes with Vergilius, squeezing his hand all the more tightly.]

We'll return you to the City! If it is possible to bring together strangers from an untold number of universes, then the opposite must also be true. Even this place is not so far removed from where we were that communication is impossible.

[immortalpoet]

...

[His eyes widen a little. Things have changed in Lobelia, he would have to blind his red eyes to think otherwise, but to hear him be satisfied with Vergilius returning to where he belongs...]

[He glances to the hand between them, his own fingers curling. A light, little squeeze in return.]

You have a point. They must have the technology to do so. All it would take is to reverse it. We just have to find it, though.

[conchy]

[Where else should Vergilius go than back where he needs to be? Perhaps he doesn't desire to dwell there, perhaps he never has, but that doesn't change the fact that he has work left to do. The fact that Lobelia intends to follow him there is something left unsaid, but he also expects Vergilius to, well, expect it when the time comes.

There's only so much they're capable of in this space, but he's already been instructed by a certain someone on what can be done here to bolster their strength against the birds. In the service of his dutiful guide, Lobelia will take whatever measures necessary to secure freedom for them both.]

Your induction is correct! There is no path forward without a path back. As it happens, our efforts here will bolster Monsieur Merlin's strength, a fact that may ultimately work out in our favor. Aiding him should be the first step towards our escape.

[immortalpoet]

[He stares at Lobelia for a very long moment. Perhaps he's changed his mind. Perhaps he's given up on this endeavor. Perhaps he is about to go back on his blood oath-]







Lobelia. [Now he's letting out an aggrieved little sigh. Reaching up to gently flick Lobelia in the forehead.] You said you wanted to make it difficult for Merlin. Now you say we should help him. Make up your mind.

[conchy]

Hm? Aie!

[Not his delicate, highly fragile forehead! Lobelia whines and rubs aching head, but listen up, old man. There's a method to his madness.]

It's not as nonsensical as you believe! Monsieur Merlin is quite a powerful creature, you see. If we can make use of the power he holds, which is further aided by our "activities," then we might use him to secure our route out of here. Do you understand?

[In other words, he still plans to make this difficult for Merlin... by using him. Don't place too much faith in him, Verg.]

[immortalpoet]

...Ah.

[Yeah, that's Lobelia, alright. He didn't exactly miss this aspect of him. Then again, it isn't as if he's so morally against using Merlin's capabilities for his own needs, either.]

Do you think he would allow that, though? He might be an irritating little flower of a wizard, but he feels like the crafty type.

[conchy]

The man is crafty, no doubt, but it's safe to say that our desires are not maligned with his. He wants to be trapped here no more than we do.

[And to that end, he can at least imagine Merlin working together with them, and if not...]

But of course, there is always the chance he won't willingly comply. Were that to happen, the use of force would become necessary.

[immortalpoet]

[Force, huh.]

[A brief lilt of his mouth comes, that little narrow of his eyes - a smirk.]

I'm sure you're not the type to shy away from that.

[Neither is he.]

[conchy]

[Oh, if only he could restrict himself to such sweet little smirks. Lobelia grins broadly instead, all teeth, and chuckles.]

Non, non, of course not! Ah, but I will defer to your judgment, of course.

[whatever vergie wants, vergie gets]

But if it does come to blows, I hope you'll allow me to indulge a bit.

1/2

[immortalpoet]

Indulge you?

[He closes the distance, suddenly - that bright smile is almost enthralling, and he like a moth to flame simply must get closer.]

You really want more? Ah.... [Another raspy sigh, nose brushing up against nose.] You're one of the greediest people I've ever met.