[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.
[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.]
[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.
[Ah...? Is he really the one accused of being greedy when Vergilius is making him an offer he can't refuse? Sure, he's tired, and sure, he's sore, but he could go for another roundโ
.........Ah. A jest, eh? Lobelia comes up sputtering, as soaked and offended as a cat dunked in a pool. Combing a hand through his hair, Lobelia brushes it out of his face and approaches the edge of the lake with every intention of snagging Vergilius by his ankle. For once, he's not cheating by immobilizing him with audiomancy.]
Oh lร lร ! What was that for, Vergilius? Is there something you're trying to tell me that words alone can't convey?
[Like a deep desire to get dragged into the water and slapped with a handful of mud?]
[And sometimes you really just want to have yourself a petty little bit of fun by pushing your paramour into the water. Even in his constant misery, even he can find a bit of amusement in seeing Lobelia drenched, a kitten caught in the bathtub.]
[He won't pull his feet away. Yeah, do your best, Lobelia. He wants to see you try.]
[Experience tells Lobelia he won't be able to drag Vergilius into the lake without involving the use of audiomancy, but in the spirit of playing along, he'll give it a try, fastening both hands around Vergilius' ankle and sharply tugging.]
Just remember that cheating is unbecoming, mon amour. No tricks!
[His physical strength is no greater than any normal human with a physique like his, and in fact, it's pretty clear that Lobelia only stays in good physical shape for purely vain reasons. Vergilius was right to wonder if Lobelia has ever held a weapon, because his half-assed efforts here are very much proof that he hasn't.]
What tricks? I'm just sitting here, minding my business.
[The man tugs - Vergilius seems pleased enough to ignore it, a sliver of teeth showing in his equivalent of a grin. He reaches over, hand tangling into the other's hair.]
Sometimes, you have to learn that magic and abilities isn't everything.
[Up until now, magic and abilities had been everything. Brute shows of force don't suit him as well as they do Vergilius, but perhaps even that isn't the correct answer.
Warm fingers spill into his hair and Lobelia tips his head to one side, a contemplative hum before he arrives at his answer with a smile pulling at his lips. Extending a hand to Vergilius palm side up, that cheerful smile pulls wider.]
Will you join me, s'il te plaรฎt?
[Sometimes magic and abilities aren't the answer and neither is force. Will Vergilius trust him enough to take his hand?]
[He says, a little bluntly - but he's not withdrawing his hand just yet, fingers circling over the other's wet scalp before brushing down to cup an ear.]
Politeness...I'll give a point for that, though. [And then finally, he pulls away his hand, considering for a moment, before he reaches to grasp it with a grip a little too firm.] So...fine.
[Flattery, or in this case sincerity, is its own form of magic. For Vergilius' sake, Lobelia doesn't celebrate his victory with raucous laughter, simply humming in delight as he meets that firm grip with one much gentler and guides Vergilius into the water. Unfortunately, Lobelia takes the opportunity to twine his other arm around the small of Vergilius' back and hug him close.]
C'est froid! Do you not care that I could have died of hypothermia, Vergilius? You truly are a cruel man!
[It is rather cold - even as he's entering the cool water, he's shivering and trying not to show it. Perhaps it really is a boon to have a warm body here, one that he instinctively moves closer to even as he's pulled in. His own arms, hesitating, move up to wrap around the other's shoulders.]
[The cold of the water seems distant already.]
Perhaps it'll build character. Its definitely not a pleasant way to go. Unless you'd prefer I break your neck again?
[The cool water does have its benefits, mostly the way it emphasizes their body heat and makes him all the more aware of the press of skin against skin and how very pleasant it is. There's certainly no shame in Lobelia's game, closing whatever distance remains between them by hugging Vergilius tightly in his arms. Hugs are nice! A shame no one else ever wants to hug him, but he doesn't need them to when he has Vergilius now.
Nosing into the juncture between Vergilius' shoulder and neck, laughter rumbles in Lobelia's throat, hums gently along the other man's skin.]
I would rather not suffer a death that wasn't wrought by your hands. Where is the fun in being subdued by a pool of cold water?
[Nobody wants to hug Lobelia...until now, perhaps. Vergilius is probably the only person who would. There were people, once upon a time, who could've hugged him like this, but he doesn't even remember the last time it happened. A past never to return.]
[The softness of the gesture eases something in his chest, pressing his head against the other's as Lobelia goes for the crook of his neck. It tickles. In response, his index finger scrapes up along the side of the other's neck.]
Mm. [Now his breath is humming in his throat.] It's still by my hands. So savor that. It isn't as if you decided to dump yourself in here.
[Touchรฉ... Vergilius' touch tickles, but Lobelia doesn't shy from it, inspired to goosebumps and chuckling in a manner so innocent as to be ill-fitting for someone who has spilled as much blood as himself. The harsh dichotomy remains and will only grow more severe, Lobelia's intention to share every bit of that sickly, overly saccharine affection with this man so long as he'll tolerate it.]
That much is true, but I wouldn't be satisfait dying under those conditions. I want your hands on me, mon amour. Something so indirect as freezing to death could never please me.
[Mon amour...even as much as he's heard the other man say it, there's still something a little unexpected about it. It's as if he's surprised every time, like a child playing peekaboo with a parent and too young to know what's happening.]
[Another little sigh graces his lips as he presses them almost casually against the side of the man's head.]
One would think you're just too excited for me to get my hands on you in general. You need to practice some restraint. Do you even know what that word means?
[Restraint, eh? Lobelia would like to think he practices plenty, and isn't it only natural to want to touch your lover? His answer comes out first as a laugh, and then he settles in closer, every word a soft vibration against the other man's skin.]
Would that make you happy?
[Lobelia is fine with their arrangement just as it is. Still, in his ongoing effort to honor mutuality, it's important that he isn't the only one who feels such. If you asked him, his partner is simply unused to this sort of easy, open affection, and maybe that's something that needs to change.]
[Happy. Again, that omnipresent word that has haunted them since they met. He thought he never deserved happiness. It was something to be glimpsed, not obtained.]
[He holds Lobelia close, this warm, bloodthirsty flower of a man. Everything is too new to be comfortable with.]
[That may be the more important question here. Vergilius is unused to affection, no doubt thinking himself undeserving of it, but that line of thought isn't enough to deter Lobelia. Vergilius will surely acclimate in time, adaptable as he is, but he won't without a desire to.
Lobelia loosens his hold on him enough to lean back and meet him eye to eye.]
It's a bit frightening, non? I lack the words to describe the feeling, but I felt as much myself earlier. It's nouveau, and that's what makes it so troublesome to come to grips with.
[Of course its frightening. When you have lost everyone you cared for, what is the point in caring again? He may look after that young lady at home in his own way, but even he won't get too close. He's too skittish. A feral dog who can't adjust to domestic life without wanting to bite the hand that feeds it for the sake of saving himself pain.]
... [His eyes are not meeting the other's.] Self satisfaction is...something out of reach for me. For good reason.
[He had Vergilius pegged as a bleeding heart from the very beginning, but it's only in recent days that Lobelia has gotten a clear picture of just how badly it bleeds. Truly, his powers suit him well... but there's a critical flaw in Vergilius' logic, one Lobelia risks invoking his ire to point out to him.]
Yet you let people like me burrow under your skin and take root. I doubt I am the first.
[It's alright if Vergilius can't manage to meet his gaze. It wasn't that long ago that Lobelia couldn't manage the same, equally paralyzed by the need to keep his emotions in check and keep those roots from spreading.]
"Le cลur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaรฎt point." Basically... the heart has its own reasons that your mind can't comprehend. You may desire to keep others at a distance, but what you desire and what you need are two different things. It isn't selfish to care for oneself, you know.
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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.
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[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.]
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[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.
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[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.
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[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.]
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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.
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[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.
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[and then, without warning, he's pulling his hand out just so he can snake it around Lobelia's shoulders and]
[push him forward into the lake]
[:)]
See? I can be generous.
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.........Ah. A jest, eh? Lobelia comes up sputtering, as soaked and offended as a cat dunked in a pool. Combing a hand through his hair, Lobelia brushes it out of his face and approaches the edge of the lake with every intention of snagging Vergilius by his ankle. For once, he's not cheating by immobilizing him with audiomancy.]
Oh lร lร ! What was that for, Vergilius? Is there something you're trying to tell me that words alone can't convey?
[Like a deep desire to get dragged into the water and slapped with a handful of mud?]
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[And sometimes you really just want to have yourself a petty little bit of fun by pushing your paramour into the water. Even in his constant misery, even he can find a bit of amusement in seeing Lobelia drenched, a kitten caught in the bathtub.]
[He won't pull his feet away. Yeah, do your best, Lobelia. He wants to see you try.]
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Just remember that cheating is unbecoming, mon amour. No tricks!
[His physical strength is no greater than any normal human with a physique like his, and in fact, it's pretty clear that Lobelia only stays in good physical shape for purely vain reasons. Vergilius was right to wonder if Lobelia has ever held a weapon, because his half-assed efforts here are very much proof that he hasn't.]
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[The man tugs - Vergilius seems pleased enough to ignore it, a sliver of teeth showing in his equivalent of a grin. He reaches over, hand tangling into the other's hair.]
Sometimes, you have to learn that magic and abilities isn't everything.
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Warm fingers spill into his hair and Lobelia tips his head to one side, a contemplative hum before he arrives at his answer with a smile pulling at his lips. Extending a hand to Vergilius palm side up, that cheerful smile pulls wider.]
Will you join me, s'il te plaรฎt?
[Sometimes magic and abilities aren't the answer and neither is force. Will Vergilius trust him enough to take his hand?]
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[He says, a little bluntly - but he's not withdrawing his hand just yet, fingers circling over the other's wet scalp before brushing down to cup an ear.]
Politeness...I'll give a point for that, though. [And then finally, he pulls away his hand, considering for a moment, before he reaches to grasp it with a grip a little too firm.] So...fine.
[Tug him in, French man.]
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C'est froid! Do you not care that I could have died of hypothermia, Vergilius? You truly are a cruel man!
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[The cold of the water seems distant already.]
Perhaps it'll build character. Its definitely not a pleasant way to go. Unless you'd prefer I break your neck again?
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Nosing into the juncture between Vergilius' shoulder and neck, laughter rumbles in Lobelia's throat, hums gently along the other man's skin.]
I would rather not suffer a death that wasn't wrought by your hands. Where is the fun in being subdued by a pool of cold water?
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[The softness of the gesture eases something in his chest, pressing his head against the other's as Lobelia goes for the crook of his neck. It tickles. In response, his index finger scrapes up along the side of the other's neck.]
Mm. [Now his breath is humming in his throat.] It's still by my hands. So savor that. It isn't as if you decided to dump yourself in here.
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That much is true, but I wouldn't be satisfait dying under those conditions. I want your hands on me, mon amour. Something so indirect as freezing to death could never please me.
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[Another little sigh graces his lips as he presses them almost casually against the side of the man's head.]
One would think you're just too excited for me to get my hands on you in general. You need to practice some restraint. Do you even know what that word means?
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Would that make you happy?
[Lobelia is fine with their arrangement just as it is. Still, in his ongoing effort to honor mutuality, it's important that he isn't the only one who feels such. If you asked him, his partner is simply unused to this sort of easy, open affection, and maybe that's something that needs to change.]
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[Happy. Again, that omnipresent word that has haunted them since they met. He thought he never deserved happiness. It was something to be glimpsed, not obtained.]
[He holds Lobelia close, this warm, bloodthirsty flower of a man. Everything is too new to be comfortable with.]
...I don't know.
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[That may be the more important question here. Vergilius is unused to affection, no doubt thinking himself undeserving of it, but that line of thought isn't enough to deter Lobelia. Vergilius will surely acclimate in time, adaptable as he is, but he won't without a desire to.
Lobelia loosens his hold on him enough to lean back and meet him eye to eye.]
It's a bit frightening, non? I lack the words to describe the feeling, but I felt as much myself earlier. It's nouveau, and that's what makes it so troublesome to come to grips with.
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[Of course its frightening. When you have lost everyone you cared for, what is the point in caring again? He may look after that young lady at home in his own way, but even he won't get too close. He's too skittish. A feral dog who can't adjust to domestic life without wanting to bite the hand that feeds it for the sake of saving himself pain.]
... [His eyes are not meeting the other's.] Self satisfaction is...something out of reach for me. For good reason.
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Yet you let people like me burrow under your skin and take root. I doubt I am the first.
[It's alright if Vergilius can't manage to meet his gaze. It wasn't that long ago that Lobelia couldn't manage the same, equally paralyzed by the need to keep his emotions in check and keep those roots from spreading.]
"Le cลur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaรฎt point." Basically... the heart has its own reasons that your mind can't comprehend. You may desire to keep others at a distance, but what you desire and what you need are two different things. It isn't selfish to care for oneself, you know.
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