IF WE AMASS ENOUGH SHITPOSTS NO ONE CAN READ OUR SHAME

[conchy]

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[conchy]

[He feels that sorrow cut deep like a serrated blade, a curious, novel sort of pain that isn't the least bit pleasurable. He owes Vergilius all of himself, his heart included, for guiding him to true happiness, but the consequence is the very same one he'd just just explained to Vergilius: love cuts both ways.

He can speak to his words through experience now, but there's a difference between savoring the sounds of another's pain and feeling their unhappiness as if it were your own. Lobelia isn't a fan of the latter, and selfish as he is, he'll gut Vergilius of that sorrow so it can't impede either of them more than it already has. As with so many decisions Lobelia makes on his own, this one is not up for debate.]

You will learn one step at a time, as everyone does when learning something new. Bad habits are not easily shaken off, but even an old dog can learn new tricks.

[It's about time they get out of the lake before they prune, but before that, Lobelia yanks Vergilius in close and squeezes him tightly. That's the nature of his love, so all encompassing as to be choking and restrictive, but it's as Vergilius said: he knows nothing of restraint. If this is what it takes to make his point, he'll squeeze Vergilius to death over and over again.]

Who is it you care for most? When you return home, treat them to a smile. A genuine one! Don't sneer as you're so fond of doing.

[immortalpoet]

...Ha.

[An exhale of a laugh at the "old dog" comment. Yeah. That's him. Old, worn down, weary, and yet still moving - well, even if he's dead. This is still "life", in a sense.]

[He's held tightly. He knows now Lobelia will never let go. Through hell and high waters, this is how it is, and how it always will be. Lobelia is a fool for thinking he can erode the cliff of misery, but perhaps that's the only kind of person who can manage such a thing. It makes his own heart hurt all the more for it.]

[He might not wake up the next morning with all that regret behind him, in an instant, but perhaps it is one step at a time. The light in the distance, that star, burning a little brighter. Perhaps he will never get into heaven. At least he can shoot for purgatory, for limbo, and be freed of the fires of the Inferno.]

[He relents with a shift of his own arms to hold the other close.[

...I'll do my best. [He finally says, quietly. A tilt of his head, and he's pressing his lips against the other's cheek, below his eye - his eyelashes flutter against Lobelia's damp forehead, like butterflies.] Maybe this old dog can smile, too.

[conchy]

[This is progress, incremental as it is, but Lobelia doesn't expect someone in Vergilius' position to shove aside years of trauma and grief in an instant. There's the possibility he'll backslide as well, struggling to hold onto something as slippery and intangible as his own happiness, but over time, he'll be able to grasp it without it slipping from his fingers.

As it is now, Lobelia sees his willingness to try as a victory in and of itself. He leans into that kiss, all too happy to take it, and tips Vergilius' chin up to plant one firmly on his lips. His own happiness is as hot and blinding as the sun, but if anyone can withstand the burn, it's Vergilius.]

That's the spirit! One doesn't accomplish anything without trying. Should you struggle or fall behind, mon amour, I'll be there to lift you back up!

[Ah, but speaking of lifting. Better watch it, Vergie, or Lobelia will sweep you right off your feet and into his arms to exit the lake. Hm. Perhaps he could've dragged Vergilius into the lake if he truly desired to? It is a mystery.]

[immortalpoet]

[That's right. This is already a step he never thought he would take. Lobelia is so irritating that way, making him think about things that he thought were off limits. Terrible, terrible Lobelia.]

Will you, now.

[He says it in a way that's a little disbelieving, though more in a teasing way than an actual roll of the eyes way. The kiss is briefly returned, and he's ready to pull back to shake his head like a shaggy dog to get rid of the water-]



[When he's suddenly being lifted. Hey. Huh. What.]

......?!

[HE'S ACTUALLY LEGIT SURPRISED WHAT IS HAPPENING he's grasping onto Lobelia's shoulders in a bit of a shocked instinctual panic, as if expecting the man to just drop him right then and there.]

[conchy]

[Look how strong he is! Praise him!! These arms are for lifting wives, not dragging them into lakes. Lobelia does have to adjust his grip on Vergilius once they exit the lake, but to his credit, he doesn't drop him on the ground. Seriously, he'll take that praise at any time, let him have it.]

Hm! You're a touch lighter than you look. Don't skip any meals, mon amour, or I'll have to feed you myself.

[Hope you like seafood and pasta, Verg. Lobelia will happily carry him all the way back to their clothing pile if he allows him to.]

[immortalpoet]

.......???

[Sorry, he is still literally so astonished right now. This has never happened to him. What the fuck.]

[The annoyance is setting in, though its more because he really didn't expect to be in this position whatsoever, and he's still going WHAT THE HELLLL in his own mind. At least he's not making Lobelia put him down?]

How...? You look like you'd break carrying a large log for too long.

[conchy]

Heh-ahaha! Is that so? I work out every day, I'll have you know!

[Only for the purpose of looking good when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, but muscle is muscle, isn't it? When they reach their clothes, Lobelia sets Vergilius down on his feet.]

I simply don't see a need to rely on my physical strength when I can accomplish so much more through the power of audiomancy.

[immortalpoet]

[He's let down finally, still holding onto Lobelia...before he seems to realize where he is, detaching himself with an irritated little sigh.]

So what do you even do it, for? Seems like a waste of time when you rely on one thing over another.

[conchy]

[Why so irritated, old man? After he went through the effort of carrying him all the way here... but it's fine! Lobelia picks up Verg's pants and hands them to him. They seem mostly clean, unlike his poor stained robes.]

Why else? To look good. Appearances are important, Vergilius!

[No sense in lying about it. He's vain.]

[immortalpoet]

[He's irritated because anything that makes him feel slightly vulnerable does so. Very easy! He's simple to figure out.]

[He does take the clothes, grumbling a little bit as he starts to put them on.]

....That so. Pity they don't have a mirror here. You'd have a good hobby on your hands here.

[conchy]

[His robes will need to be washed, but his pants seem fine, so Lobelia follows suit and pulls those on. And, without missing a beat—]

There's no need! I can see myself reflected in your eyes just fine.

[All the more reason to gaze deeply into them and bat his lashes at Vergilius, right?]

[immortalpoet]

Really.

[BOOOO LAME YOUR WIFE THINKS THIS IS LAME]

[conchy]

[Heh! Heh!! Too bad he isn't the least bit put off by that reaction. Anyway, it's chilly and his robes are le ruined, so he's taking Verg's shirt and putting it on himself. Thanks, hubby.]

Heheh! Don't sound so unimpressed. Your eyes are such a lovely shade of rouge that I catch myself staring into them quite often, but I'm sure you've taken notice.

[immortalpoet]

That's my...

[Wow. Okay. Already wearing his clothing. He sees how it is.]

[Those very eyes are flaring brightly as he's pulling his blazer on.]

I'm not called the Red Gaze for my shining personality. More than enough people have taken notice.

[Though very few look him directly in the eyes.]

[conchy]

[He's not scared of you, wife. All that scary red gaze can do to him now is allure him more. Comme c'est tragique.]

But how many of them have told you that your eyes are beau?

[immortalpoet]

...

[Glancing away....]

Maybe only a lunatic like you.

[conchy]

[Moe... Not to be easily ignored, Lobelia sidles back into Vergilius' line of sight and pointedly stares at those vivid red peepers.]

You're saying that I'm the first to point out such an obvious fact? How sad! Perhaps they avoided doing so because they knew how poorly you handle compliments.

[immortalpoet]

I can handle compliments just fine.

[GRUMBLING AND LOOKING AWAY AGAIN WOW LOOK AT THE TIME ITS INABILITY TO TAKE COMPLIMENTS O CLOCK]

Are you done?

[conchy]

[How earnest! How sweet! Tempting fate, Lobelia claps Vergilius' cheeks between his hands and reorients his face so looking away is no longer an option.]

You're so impatient, but I suppose that too is part of your charm. Hm, I think I'll be finished with you when you can accept a compliment in earnest. Équitable?

[immortalpoet]

[Hm.]



[reacHING OUT TO PUT HIS HAND AROUND HIS NECK HI HELLO he isn't squeezing this is just always his typical kneejerk reflex to violence]

I don't need to.

[conchy]

[Oh? Threatening him with a good time? How dreadful! Beneath Vergilius' palms, Lobelia's pulse immediately kicks up, laughter snaking out of his throat. He smooshes Vergilius' lips into a cute little duckface.]

You would be happier if you did!

[immortalpoet]

[jesus HE REMEMBERED THAT LOBELIA GETS OFF ON THIS, GREAT]

[but he isn't letting go, he's just frowning! mightily! hissy cat! stop smooshing his face!!]

[he is squeezing a little tighter]

I don't want to.

[conchy]

[What, no follow through? Weak! Autoerotic asphyxiation is something Lobelia could totally get behind, but Vergilius knows that and is thus choosing not to strangle him. Terrible, very rude. Time to develop a denial kink...............]

Oh? And why not? Are you afraid you'll blush if you do?

[Lobelia goes from smooshing Vergilius' cheeks to pinching and pulling them.]

[immortalpoet]

I don't blush.

[What is his life. He is absolutely making a face at this...and withdrawing his hand to place it directly against the other's face and give it a nice shove.]

I'm not a toy. Stop.

[conchy]

[Poor Verg, poor Verg... Lobelia would continue to toy with him, but that would make Vergilius unhappy, wouldn't it? With that thought in mind, he wistfully sighs and withdraws his hands. The palm to the face was totally unnecessary, wifey.]

Mes excuses! Don't get upset, mon amour. I only want to see you smile and laugh every now and then. Is that asking for too much?