[........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.]
[Would it even offend Lobelia if Vergilius did sleep with Merlin...? Probably not, but he's still of the opinion that Merlin does not deserve nice things, so it's better that he doesn't get to experience la petite mort rouge for himself.]
You're not wrong to resist the temptation. [WHO SAID IT WAS TEMPTING] That man is terribly cocky and much too fond of the sound of his own voice. I can't imagine humoring him in such a fashion.
And shut up. [He is....grumpily returning back to his paper LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He doesn't even know what to feel about the word "loyal". They have a blood oath and all. There's still so much to unpack here emotionally.] Surprising, though. Sounds like you're describing yourself.
[So fussy! Lobelia tamps down on his laughter only because he's quite focused on banging out the most epic love poem this side of the graveyard. Vergilius better swoon when he reads it.]
Hm? Really? Comme c'est รฉtrange! I see nothing in common between myself and Monsieur Merlin, so you must have confused yourself in your anger.
[Lobelia pauses to look over at Vergilius' paper.]
Heh-ahah! Quelle cruautรฉ! But I did miss your biting tongue.
[It seems to be some sort of bird, but ah. Then Vergilius mentions who taught him and Lobelia's interest immediately evaporates. French on French hate crimes...]
[Good on Vergilius for playing along and contributing to the cause. This won't serve Merlin any better than them fucking each other and not him, but at least it won't offend his wife's delicate sensibilities.
As Vergilius folds his crane, Lobelia moves on to the final few lines of his poem.]
What a pleasure it would be to fly as freely as a bird. Perhaps it was fate that you were taught how to shape freedom with your own hands?
[Lobelia finishes up his work, giving it a once over and correcting any errors in his syntax. Perfect. His hot Italian wife will surely love this romantic poem written entirely in French.]
Non! Des oiseaux are quite dรฉlicat creatures. They use what options they have at their disposal to secure their freedom. In so many words, you already have those tools at the ready, mon amour.
[And with that, Lobelia neatly tears his poem from the notebook's pages and hands it to Vergilius with a flourish.]
Voilร ! I've written a poรจme just for you. I hope you'll enjoy it.
[He didn't expect Vergilius would be able to read much, if any of his poem, but there's a reason why Lobelia wrote it in his native tongue. With a smile, he leans in and takes the paper.]
I'm well aware of your shortcomings, Vergilius! Don't fret. I'll read it to you.
[And so he does, translating aloud the poem chatGPTโข wrote because like hell am I going to try and write a whole ass poem in French:]
In the dark glow of the starry night, Two fiery rubies caught my eye, Fire-colored eyes, captivating and passionate, In their depth, my heart was wildly charmed.
Like embers in the flaming hearth, Your glowing eyes consumed me with blazing fire, Their burning radiance awakened my sleeping soul, And plunged me into an ocean of consuming desire.
Your red eyes, like flaming rubies, Transmit emotions that only love inspires, They are the fiery glows of a molten passion, And guide me towards boundless horizons of happiness.
They tell a story of eternal love, A fiery epic that defies the limits of time, In their depth, I discover the essence of your soul, And I willingly get lost in it, madly succumbing.
Your red eyes, like fires of passion, Brightly shining, lighting my way, I drown in their splendor, in their ardent embrace, And I know that it is with you that my happiness takes shape.
In every blink of an eye, a whisper of love, An irresistible call to fiery nights, Your glowing eyes, symbols of unwavering resilience, Possess me a true love, never altered.
So let me get lost in the abyss of your gaze, Those red eyes, witnesses of our insatiable passion, Because with you, my love, in your arms I lose myself, And our entwined destinies will be written in an unshakeable love.
[He listens, surprisingly not interrupting during the whole reading. Eternal love. Entwined destinies. A fiery epic.]
[He listens, and is silent for a moment, the only expression on his face that of furrowed eyebrows, thoughtful.]
[He's read a few rants about the Red Gaze online, some overeager fans singing his praises, but nothing...like this. Nothing so pointed as this. He sighs, after a moment, but there's a little heat in the tips of his ears, one he's doing his best to ignore.]
....Way too much repetition. You don't need to keep bringing up the eyes that often. [A little beat.] You really just came up with that on your own, just right now?
[Vergilius is on top of the critique, unsurprisingly, but what is surprising is that little flush that's settled into the tips of his ears. Lobelia smiles, but he knows better than to comment on it, instead leaning in to nip the shell of Vergilius' ear and whisper into it.]
Oui. I'm no poet, as you can see, but is it not the thought that counts?
[Given Lobelia's nature, this truly was a labor of love. Can Vergilius imagine him going through such efforts for anyone else, selfish as he is?]
[The nip to his ear makes him startle, a little, but the heat in that ear grows a little, as if the other's voice is adding to it with its own warmth - that frown of his is deeper, though, as if in protest. The gall-]
Mm. [Whatever. WHATEVER!!] I guess there was effort.
[That's more like it. It's not the glowing praise Lobelia totally deserves for his efforts, but it's praise all the same, cradling Vergilius' face in one hand while he loudly smooches his cheek. Was it necessary to make so much noise? Obviously.]
[Sorry, no divorce lawyers in deadlandia!! The paper crane sits in Lobelia's palm, his fingers instinctively curling like he means to crush it, but he stops himself just shy of destroying it. No, no, he can't destroy his husband's gift... Not even if he badly wants to hear the paper crumple in his hand............]
Hm. [HM.] That's a start, but I put much effort into this poรจme! I want a more suitable reward for my heartfelt words.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Oh dear... What's wrong, mon amour? You seem quite troubled by this news.
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[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.
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Would you feel less aggrieved if we used something else? Your blood, par exemple?
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[what]
You know that's not the point here. What's wrong with you.
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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!
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I am. Not planning to bed him.
[JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!!!!!]
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[Would it even offend Lobelia if Vergilius did sleep with Merlin...? Probably not, but he's still of the opinion that Merlin does not deserve nice things, so it's better that he doesn't get to experience la petite mort rouge for himself.]
You're not wrong to resist the temptation. [WHO SAID IT WAS TEMPTING] That man is terribly cocky and much too fond of the sound of his own voice. I can't imagine humoring him in such a fashion.
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[WHO SAID THIS!!!![
And shut up. [He is....grumpily returning back to his paper LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He doesn't even know what to feel about the word "loyal". They have a blood oath and all. There's still so much to unpack here emotionally.] Surprising, though. Sounds like you're describing yourself.
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Hm? Really? Comme c'est รฉtrange! I see nothing in common between myself and Monsieur Merlin, so you must have confused yourself in your anger.
[Lobelia pauses to look over at Vergilius' paper.]
What have you got there?
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[This really is the Vergilius Annoyance Power Hour!!]
[His paper is in the midst of being folded into an origami crane.]
... [He has half a mind not to explain, but he relents with a little sigh.] Zelkov taught me.
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[It seems to be some sort of bird, but ah. Then Vergilius mentions who taught him and Lobelia's interest immediately evaporates. French on French hate crimes...]
What purpose does a paper oiseau serve?
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[Sometimes you have gay wrath month with a man you're soulbonded to inexplicably but also you will roast him eight ways to Sunday.]
[He notices the lack of enthusiasm here, though - how very interesting.]
Nothing besides being a novelty, I'd say. Still, something to make.
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As Vergilius folds his crane, Lobelia moves on to the final few lines of his poem.]
What a pleasure it would be to fly as freely as a bird. Perhaps it was fate that you were taught how to shape freedom with your own hands?
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[Wow, he loves focusing on this orgami crane!! He does let out a snort at the question.]
Shape freedom how, exactly? Becoming powerful?
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Non! Des oiseaux are quite dรฉlicat creatures. They use what options they have at their disposal to secure their freedom. In so many words, you already have those tools at the ready, mon amour.
[And with that, Lobelia neatly tears his poem from the notebook's pages and hands it to Vergilius with a flourish.]
Voilร ! I've written a poรจme just for you. I hope you'll enjoy it.
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[The gift makes him do the White Man Double Blink GIF, pausing before taking it with a scarred hand. A quick scan of it, and....]
Lobelia. I can't read this.
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I'm well aware of your shortcomings, Vergilius! Don't fret. I'll read it to you.
[And so he does, translating aloud the poem chatGPTโข wrote because like hell am I going to try and write a whole ass poem in French:]
In the dark glow of the starry night,
Two fiery rubies caught my eye,
Fire-colored eyes, captivating and passionate,
In their depth, my heart was wildly charmed.
Like embers in the flaming hearth,
Your glowing eyes consumed me with blazing fire,
Their burning radiance awakened my sleeping soul,
And plunged me into an ocean of consuming desire.
Your red eyes, like flaming rubies,
Transmit emotions that only love inspires,
They are the fiery glows of a molten passion,
And guide me towards boundless horizons of happiness.
They tell a story of eternal love,
A fiery epic that defies the limits of time,
In their depth, I discover the essence of your soul,
And I willingly get lost in it, madly succumbing.
Your red eyes, like fires of passion,
Brightly shining, lighting my way,
I drown in their splendor, in their ardent embrace,
And I know that it is with you that my happiness takes shape.
In every blink of an eye, a whisper of love,
An irresistible call to fiery nights,
Your glowing eyes, symbols of unwavering resilience,
Possess me a true love, never altered.
So let me get lost in the abyss of your gaze,
Those red eyes, witnesses of our insatiable passion,
Because with you, my love, in your arms I lose myself,
And our entwined destinies will be written in an unshakeable love.
[tl;dr the ai pretty much nailed it, enjoy]
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[He listens, surprisingly not interrupting during the whole reading. Eternal love. Entwined destinies. A fiery epic.]
[He listens, and is silent for a moment, the only expression on his face that of furrowed eyebrows, thoughtful.]
[He's read a few rants about the Red Gaze online, some overeager fans singing his praises, but nothing...like this. Nothing so pointed as this. He sighs, after a moment, but there's a little heat in the tips of his ears, one he's doing his best to ignore.]
....Way too much repetition. You don't need to keep bringing up the eyes that often. [A little beat.] You really just came up with that on your own, just right now?
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Oui. I'm no poet, as you can see, but is it not the thought that counts?
[Given Lobelia's nature, this truly was a labor of love. Can Vergilius imagine him going through such efforts for anyone else, selfish as he is?]
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[The nip to his ear makes him startle, a little, but the heat in that ear grows a little, as if the other's voice is adding to it with its own warmth - that frown of his is deeper, though, as if in protest. The gall-]
Mm. [Whatever. WHATEVER!!] I guess there was effort.
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Merci mon amour! Do I get a reward?
[??????]
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[anyways. hm. a reward]
[Hands him the little origami crane. there u go]
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Hm. [HM.] That's a start, but I put much effort into this poรจme! I want a more suitable reward for my heartfelt words.
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I'm not going to have sex with you.
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Don't be so vulgar! Why would you immediately jump to that conclusion? Is Monsieur Merlin still occupying your thoughts...?
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