IF WE AMASS ENOUGH SHITPOSTS NO ONE CAN READ OUR SHAME

[conchy]

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[conchy]

[He allows his hand to be shrugged off only to let it spill down Vergilius' arm, capturing his hand. That's not all, is it? No, he doesn't think so.]

But that isn't all, Vergilius. I understand that you're a busy man, but you'll be a mort one if you don't fess up.

[immortalpoet]

Shut up.

[Oh, there's the snapping anger - even if its mild compared to what Lobelia knows, and a bit unnatural coming from that young, almost emotionless face, its classic Vergilius, alright.]

[He's trying to pull away.]

You don't know me.

[conchy]

[Ah! There's his baby momma. Lobelia does his best not to snicker, but it truly is a relief to hear the bite in Vergilius' voice, so see anger spark in his eyes. Naturally, his response is to fit his fingers into a vice around Vergilius' hand.]

Tsk, tsk! What a fussy boy. I know you better than you think. In fact, I know this is not where you're prepared to die.

[But do you know how insistent these types are, Verg? Lobelia doesn't seem like the type to hesitate on making good on his word, and with his audiomancy lowly thrumming in Vergilius' veins, maybe he'd be better served admitting the rest to him.]

[immortalpoet]

Is that so?

[Hi, you're getting the edge of his gladius placed against your throat, there, Lobelia, even with the humming in his veins. Even here and now, at this age, the rebelliousness of wanting to stay alive by any means possible is here, as taut as a steel wire.]

Tell me how you know that, and maybe I'll tell you what you want.

[conchy]

[Such a thinly veiled threat...! That's his Vergie alright. Lobelia tips his chin up and smiles, all teeth, and considers the terms of their exchange with a hum.]

I told you I was an ange, right? Is it not an ange's duty to guide their chosen one down the correct path?

[Unto hell, unto death, eternally.]

Hm... Somewhere inside of you, you know who I am. You may not recognize me now, but you'll come to know me quite well in the future. Do you believe in destinée?

[immortalpoet]

...Not really, no.

[At least he's blunt about it.]

[But he stares at Lobelia for a moment, his head hurting, the taste of blood in his mouth, and maybe, just maybe, there's a glimmer of understanding, like a lantern shining briefly off a dark shore.]

[He lowers the sword, shakily..]

Maybe it fits I would have a fallen angel like you. [He spits blood to the side.] I don't...know.

[That slight urge, like a seed in a barren land, starting to bloom.]

I guess I'm...curious about that girl. Lapis.

[conchy]

[In turn, the vibrations ease, Lobelia's grip slacking in kind... but he doesn't let go of his hand. Not entirely. If there's one thing he'll refuse to let this memory of Vergilius do, it's forget how grounding a warm touch can be.]

Je vois! Are you concerned for her wellbeing?

[A little playfully, Lobelia squeezes Vergilius' hand as if to say don't get me started again. All he wants are some answers! Nothing much!]

Tell me more about her. Now you have me curious as well.

[immortalpoet]

No. There would be no point to. But I killed her father. He was the leader of this Syndicate.

[She's waiting for me at home-]

[The older Vergilius would make a face at the squeeze. Here, he looks down at their hands, as if confused he would even do such a thing.]

[This man doesn't make sense.]

I don't know about her. What, you want to check on her, too?

[conchy]

[Knowing what he knows about the Vergilius of the present, Lobelia can't help but laugh. Such a bleeding heart. He's always had a soft spot for children, hasn't he?]

This world is quite sévère. It's hard to imagine a child growing up here alone, non?

[Lobelia is fond of children himself, but not to the degree that Vergilius is. Regardless, he nods.]

As your ange, I insist on accompanying you! Given your present condition, you could use a hand, surely!

[His present condition is entirely Lobelia's fault, but don't worry about the details. Shit happens.]

[immortalpoet]

You did this to me.

[He says, levelly. He seems to be considering something, eyes darkening a bit as he attempts to step away.]

And I don't need you, either. Angel or not. It's silly to think so.

[conchy]

[Such a sourpuss... Lobelia does let go of his hand, but only because he thinks Vergilius isn't going too terribly far.]

Do you think you can go through life entirely alone? Don't be so silly, Vergilius. You won't get far with an attitude like that.

[immortalpoet]

What do you care about it? Fixers don't form bonds.

[He's moving towards the door, even in his state.]

It isn't worth it.

[conchy]

Is that so...?

[Vergilius has this nasty habit of speaking about himself as if he were something less than human. As it stands, his every argument to the contrary only further assures Lobelia that he is, in fact, very much human. When he laughs, it's mirthful, nothing remotely cruel about it.]

Because it's painful, oui? The ache of loneliness could never compare to loving and losing, or so they say. I'm willing to believe that, but perhaps someone like you would know with certainty?

[immortalpoet]

I wouldn't know.

[Said with such bluntness it could pratically be taken for sincerity. It's hard to say if it is or isn't.]

[Why is he talking with this man again...? How irritating. This man's smug face rubs him in a way not anyone has done before.]

It's the way of this City. A fact of life. You keep everyone away and go about your day. Its foolish to assume you can get close to others without repercussions.

[conchy]

[Repercussions, he says... but Lobelia can only think of one repercussion for getting close to someone else. Perhaps that speaks to his lack of experience or his juvenile mind, but really, why must people like Vergilius insist on complicating such simple affairs?

With another quiet laugh, Lobelia shakes his head.]

Mon cher Vergilius... Whether you like it or not, people will worm their way into your heart. Every action has a conséquence, and whether you will it or not, love will find you regardless. In fact... it already has.

[immortalpoet]

...

[Young!Vergilius may not have the wear and tear of years of exhaustion on his face, but he sure does have a bit of exasperation setting in already.]

You make it sound like a plague or something.

[conchy]

Heheh! When you put it that way, you aren't wrong. Love is infectious and you cannot stop it!

[What a wonderful comparison. Nothing wrong with this at all.]

Regardless, I'll have you know that there is no one I'm more fond of than you. Protest all you like, but forming bonds is only human. Moreover, you only have yourself to blame.

[immortalpoet]

Is that right.

[This is the most exhausting conversation he has ever had, he thinks. Even more than the physical exhaustion.]

...What do you want from me? An ear to listen to your tripe about love and bonds?

[conchy]

[Poor, poor thing. So long as Vergilius remembers some part of this conversation by it and is duly embarrassed by it, Lobelia's needs are met.]

You'll understand when you're older. [HEHE HON HON HON] Until then, remember that falling in love is as inevitable as getting ill. Tenez-vous bien until then, will you?

[Ah, and one more thing...]

Give my regards to demoiselle Lapis. I hope you'll introduce her to me some day.

1/2

[immortalpoet]

Until then.

[Until then.]


[A fool's notion. Isn't it best to simply nip things in the bud, here? He stares for a long moment. The gladius is hefted in his hands. He considers.]

[And considers.]

[And makes a decision. A highly logical one.]



[With no warning whatsoever, he leaps forward, his sword attempting to decapitate the other in one solid stroke.]

2/2

[immortalpoet]

[But the memory dissiapates just like a burst of mist. Here they are, in the void once more.]

[Vergilius stands, back to his old self - and uses a hand to stroke over his hair with a sigh.]


Can you not leave well enough alone, even in memories?

[conchy]

[Oh...? And here he was prepared to let his young wife lop his head off. The memory fizzles out right before impact and all Lobelia can do is sigh in disappointment, gazing upon Vergilius with a certain noxiously saccharine fondness. Some things never change.]

You were quite striking even in your youth! Si jolie! Ah, but my goodness, what painful memories you harbor. There really is quite a bit of work left to be done, non?

[immortalpoet]

Whatever.

[.....The moment the wheels turned. Both then, and in the past. The painting that would lead them down a corridor to a bitter end, made in honor of his fraying gaze...]

[Another sigh.]

Any Fixer worth their salt probably has memories like that. I'm hardly a new case.

[conchy]

Tsk tsk, you're much too humble! No matter what others in your position have been through, it's still important to applaud yourself for surviving this long.

[And if Vergilius won't celebrate his own successes, that's just as well. He has a very loyal simp cheerleader at his beck and call now.]

Je suis fier de toi. Maybe one day you'll acknowledge the value of your own resilience.

[immortalpoet]

...

[...]

[Lapis.....]

No, I know I am. Resilient, I mean. Have to be.

[He's staring off again.]

The world you live in says a lot about who you have to choose to be. Even that young self of mine didn't have all the answers.