[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.]
[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.]
[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.]
[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?
[Heh, oops! He fucked up!! Maybe he can make it up to Vergilius by catering to that delicate bleeding heart of his? Lobelia's gaze wanders to the arts and crafts area. Maybe he could write Vergilius a lil gay poem...]
Bien sรปr vous pouvez! If you let hope die, you'll never be happy! Stop quitting before you start, Vergilius.
[Daddykins... Anyway, arts and crafts time? Lobelia takes Vergilius' hand and guides them over to the table, eyeing the various tools and items laid out for them. He really isn't one for arts and crafts, but he takes hold of a notebook and pen with a certain plan in mind.]
Perhaps if we aid him in his ventures, he'll provide us with something meaningful to do in this place? Heh-ahaha! Je rigole. That much may be beyond Monsieur Merlin's capabilities.
[No shade to Merlin, but none of the meaningful things they'd like to do can be completed from this place. Nonetheless, Lobelia sits down with his notebook and pen and begins to write, humming as his pen moves along the page.]
[Truly, he is suffering forever because he is doing this unpaid....]
[He sits, glancing over the goods - something pangs, a little familiar. The idea of helping Merlin makes him frown, though, and he won't even move to take anything in hand. Fuck that wizard.]
I'm sure making him a greeting card is not going to power him up. If that was truly the case, he'd be useless.
[While Vergilius idles, Lobelia's pen freely flows across the paper. Dans l'รฉclat sombre de la nuit รฉtoilรฉe, deux rubis ardents ont captivรฉ mon regard...]
According to him, he draws his strength from the bonds between the people lingering in his domain. Giving that man handmade gifts โ or any gifts at all โ won't be necessary.
[Which is why he's writing a poem for Vergilius. With a muse as fine as the ashen remains of a cigarette, how can Lobelia be anything but inspired?]
[Lobelia has his hunches as to what manner of creature Merlin may be based on what he told him previously. Such beings exist in his world, but the concept may be a bit foreign to Vergilius, he thinks. With a hum, he considers his explanation carefully.]
Oui! Where I come from, beings like him are known as cauchemars... Erm, incubi. They feed off the energy of other human beings, but some forms of energy are more potent than others.
[He's not about to ruin a good thing for himself and tell Vergilius that them having sex is probably what Merlin gains the most power from, suddenly much too consumed with his writing to explain on. Des yeux couleur de feu, envoรปtants et passionnรฉs, dans leur profondeur, mon cลur a รฉtรฉ รฉperdument charmรฉ...]
[........Yes, well. It's a little hard to focus on crafting his heartfelt love poem when Vergilius' rubis ardents bore directly into his soul. Slowly, carefully, Lobelia puts his pen down and meets his gaze with a calm smile.]
Oh dear... What's wrong, mon amour? You seem quite troubled by this news.
[At that, Lobelia simply chuckles. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with himself, personally, but clearly Vergilius does, so he'll play along.]
Nothing you aren't intimately familiar with.
[heh, intimate]
Still, I would do your utmost not to let that man under your skin! What power he can derive from our bond is little in comparison to more direct methods of extracting magical energies. So long as you have no plans to bed him, your worries should be few!
[This whole turn of conversation has sufficiently shocked and disgusted him to the point where his anger has gotten off track. He stares for a long, long moment.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You would be happier if you did!
no subject
[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.
no subject
Oh? And why not? Are you afraid you'll blush if you do?
[Lobelia goes from smooshing Vergilius' cheeks to pinching and pulling them.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?
no subject
...
[>8/]
One can't hope for miracles, Lobelia.
no subject
Bien sรปr vous pouvez! If you let hope die, you'll never be happy! Stop quitting before you start, Vergilius.
no subject
[He's the dad(dy) here, wow!! But he is sighing as he glances over at the arts and crafts table as well. He hasn't even really checked it out.]
That wizard really needs to think of better things to put here.
no subject
[Daddykins... Anyway, arts and crafts time? Lobelia takes Vergilius' hand and guides them over to the table, eyeing the various tools and items laid out for them. He really isn't one for arts and crafts, but he takes hold of a notebook and pen with a certain plan in mind.]
Perhaps if we aid him in his ventures, he'll provide us with something meaningful to do in this place? Heh-ahaha! Je rigole. That much may be beyond Monsieur Merlin's capabilities.
[No shade to Merlin, but none of the meaningful things they'd like to do can be completed from this place. Nonetheless, Lobelia sits down with his notebook and pen and begins to write, humming as his pen moves along the page.]
no subject
[Truly, he is suffering forever because he is doing this unpaid....]
[He sits, glancing over the goods - something pangs, a little familiar. The idea of helping Merlin makes him frown, though, and he won't even move to take anything in hand. Fuck that wizard.]
I'm sure making him a greeting card is not going to power him up. If that was truly the case, he'd be useless.
no subject
According to him, he draws his strength from the bonds between the people lingering in his domain. Giving that man handmade gifts โ or any gifts at all โ won't be necessary.
[Which is why he's writing a poem for Vergilius. With a muse as fine as the ashen remains of a cigarette, how can Lobelia be anything but inspired?]
no subject
[man with power drawn from emotions: THAT SOUNDS LIKE CRAP]
[He is eventually reaching for a piece of paper, idly starting to fold it - those rubis ardents are glancing over though.]
This stuff makes him more powerful?
no subject
Oui! Where I come from, beings like him are known as cauchemars... Erm, incubi. They feed off the energy of other human beings, but some forms of energy are more potent than others.
[He's not about to ruin a good thing for himself and tell Vergilius that them having sex is probably what Merlin gains the most power from, suddenly much too consumed with his writing to explain on. Des yeux couleur de feu, envoรปtants et passionnรฉs, dans leur profondeur, mon cลur a รฉtรฉ รฉperdument charmรฉ...]
no subject
[But no, he's furrowing his brows at that explanation. Incubi....he knows the word, in a literary sense. But what he thinks of is...]
He's not a Bloodfiend, is he? A bloodsucker, basically.
no subject
Vergilius' take on his explanation isn't too far removed from what incubi actually do, buuut...]
Mm, non, not quite. How can I put this in polite terms...? Incubi draw their power from more... intimitรฉ sources.
[Please don't cuck him. He's done nothing(?) to deserve forced chastity.]
1/?
2/?
3/??
4/4
[ROXANEEEEEE YOU DON'T NEED TO PUT ON THAT RED LIGHT (EYES)]
Does he now.
no subject
Oh dear... What's wrong, mon amour? You seem quite troubled by this news.
no subject
[He's gritting his teeth, breaking the gaze to stare out at the garden around them, as if he can catch sight of Merlin right then and there.]
No wonder he gave you so much of that stuff.
no subject
Would you feel less aggrieved if we used something else? Your blood, par exemple?
no subject
[what]
You know that's not the point here. What's wrong with you.
no subject
Nothing you aren't intimately familiar with.
[heh, intimate]
Still, I would do your utmost not to let that man under your skin! What power he can derive from our bond is little in comparison to more direct methods of extracting magical energies. So long as you have no plans to bed him, your worries should be few!
no subject
I am. Not planning to bed him.
[JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!!!!!]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)