IF WE AMASS ENOUGH SHITPOSTS NO ONE CAN READ OUR SHAME

[conchy]

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[conchy]

[Was reopening old wounds beneficial to Merlin? Lobelia sure hopes it was, and moreover, he hopes something productive comes of all this. If not? Merlin better start running now.]

Allow me to join you! Still, let's find out what use this little aventure was in terms of securing our path out of here. [...] I'll speak with him.

[Might spare Merlin another death if the calmer of the two addresses this "issue" with him. Sometimes putting your wife on the phone to yell at the unpaid intern manning the graveyard is a bad idea.]

[immortalpoet]

I suppose.

[He grumbles, clearly in a bad mood - please yell at Merlin for him, Lobelia. Don't let him rant in Italian about how much he sucks in his ear.]

Honestly, at this point, I almost miss the garden.

[conchy]

[Poor thing... Honestly, the garden was much better than this pitch black void, but affirming his grip on Vergilius' hand, Lobelia continues onward. Supposing this place has no more memories to scar them with, the magic should give out and return them to where they were before.]

This place can't have much more to show us, can it? I believe a sieste is in order.

[Lobelia is fine, more or less, but he'll insist on Vergilius getting some rest.]

[immortalpoet]

I don't think so. It doesn't feel like it.

[He almost has half a mind to ask why he gets the brunt of it over Lobelia, but Lobelia probably didn't regret much at all besides that one memory. Everything else was likely the same old destruction as expected.]

Mm. [He leans into Lobelia, shoulders knocking against each other.] I hope this wasn't all a waste.

[conchy]

[There's little Lobelia regrets, the worst of his memories and experiences exposed to Vergilius, and the rest is nothing he minds talking about. LOBELIA HAS MAYBE AN HOUR OF CONTENT TO HIS NAME Still, there will be time for that later, the space around them gradually shifting, warping, to spit them back out into the forest where they began.]

Now now, I wouldn't trouble yourself with such thoughts. Merlin will no doubt benefit in some form of another, but for now...

[Lobelia squeezes Vergilius' hand, leaning in to press his lips to his temple.]

Retournons. I will have a word with Merlin later, but for the time being, you need rest! [Then, playfully—] Would you like me to carry you? Heheh!

[immortalpoet]

[more lobelia for the lobelia freaks like me i say]

[And of course they're back in the forest. The eyebags under Vergilius's vivid eyes seem deeper than ever thought possible - though perhaps, they do soften a smidgen when he feels that kiss. Ergh. Affection.]

... [He's shooting an unimpressed look down at him.] Why.

[conchy]

[Ergh! Affection!! There's so much more where that came from, but to Lobelia's credit, he's trying not to overwhelm Vergilius with too much TLC. Still, if he could wrap around him like a boa constrictor and squeeze him until his bones creak, he wouldn't hesitate. That's amour...]

Hm? Because you're tired, Vergilius! Why else?

[Wasn't it nice being carried around before? Doesn't it make him feel oh so loved and supported??]

[immortalpoet]

It makes me feel weird.

[He's a feral dog who's not used to affection on this level! One night stands have never gotten this far!!]

And I can walk on my own, thanks.

[conchy]

[He was largely just kidding, but the fact that Vergilius didn't snap and snarl in response is progress, Lobelia thinks. Who knows? Maybe he'll sweep Vergilius off his feet some other time, and when that time comes, Lobelia hopes he glares daggers at him and wishes him death.

Right now, he's content simply to swing their hands between them and march back in the direction of deadlandia proper. If Lobelia is bothered by anything in particular after their arduous trip, he sure isn't showing it.]

As you wish, mon amour! Still, I insist that you take a break when we return to the garden. You've been through quite the ordeal today.

[immortalpoet]

...

[He has, hasn't he? Made to relive memories, have scars cut open, feel the warmth of a bleeding heart come again and again.]

[But he gives the other a glance, red eyes a little dim as he ponders. Of course, his trials were many, but he hasn't exactly forgotten the number one memory that they both ran into.]

...What about you?

[conchy]

[What will he do...? Lobelia isn't quite as worn down as Vergilius, but he wouldn't mind taking a break himself. Still, there's something he'd like much more than that, shooting Vergilius a knowing glance and squeezing his hand.]

I'll join you. It was a bit froid in that black space, wasn't it? I'd like to warm myself in the sun.

[And utilize Vergilius as a glorified pillow. That isn't up for debate, and so Lobelia doesn't mention it.]

[immortalpoet]

[...]

I meant that...you've been through an ordeal too.

[But he seems to have a bit of personal irritation at having to admit...what is it, worry?...for Lobelia, his gaze pulling away to glance at the trees around them.]

...Sunlight does the skin good, though it fails to warm the coldness of our souls. [More poetry for you, husband.] Can't hurt, though.

[conchy]

[Vergilius... Is he worried about him? Lobelia can't hide his delight, his smile broad. There are few who worry for him, as Vergilius is well aware, and it delights him to know that someone so sacred to him would concern himself with his wellbeing.]

Mm, I suppose so! But I'm quite used to scenes like the ones that played out in your memories. S'il vous plaît ne vous inquiétez pas.

[Tugging on their joined hands, Lobelia pulls him close enough to kiss his cheek. Ah, Vergilius has such a way with words... Pottery for the soul......]

Warmth comes from the inside out. What you need are more happy memories, Vergilius! Blissful experiences! Together, I'll show you plenty of them.

[And perhaps the fact that Lobelia's ideas are not suggestions but are, in fact, mandatory things he'll force Vergilius to do, will make it easier for him to accept. Can't begrudge good days when they're being forced upon you, right?]

[immortalpoet]

Of course you are.

[OF COURSE YOU ARE.]

[He's making another little face at the kiss - all this affection is really going to rot away at him at some point. Not like that's stopping him from pulling away or anything. He's still here.]

Do I really have to... [He's very disbelieving - who said happiness could be forced on someone? Besides, does he even deserve this? Definitely not. His eternal penance begs it. He continues, deadpan.] I think that's practically anathema to my being.

[conchy]

[Does he have to? Must he be happy...? Vergilius' protests are almost juvenile in nature, so amusing to Lobelia that he can't help snickering, moving them right along to their usual patch of meadow and the tree that springs up from it, mottled shade beneath the leafy foliage.

Gentleman that he is, he spreads his outer robe along the grass and reclaims Vergilius' hand to sit them both down. He insists, as always!!]

You think so, but have you tested your hypothesis?

[There's a scientific answer to everything save for the question of how Lobelia's brain works.]

[immortalpoet]

[That snicker makes him want to kick Lobelia into next week for the gall of it. Maybe he should!]

[The robe again - he's pulled along, a little reluctantly, but after all that memory extravaganza, he's not protesting. He doesn't want to do anything. Maybe resting here, even with someone like Lobelia, and trying to focus on something other than the tragedies of the past is good enough.]

I'm no scientist. Therefore I could care less.

[conchy]

[By all means, kick him. His ass is free real estate.

Lobelia flops down beside him, spread out and ready to doze off beneath the warm, eternal sun... but you know what? He's not going to do that. No, he isn't going to do that until Vergilius cedes to join him, first offering him the choice by patting his leg and motioning to his outstretched posture. Don't you want this for yourself, Vergie? A nice nap with your very loving and not at all overbearing husband?]

But you're intelligent, more than your poor choices would suggest! Are you afraid that letting yourself experience some modicum of happiness may kill you?

[immortalpoet]

[One of these days he will do it much like Lobelia is a stress ball to punt around.]

[Somehow the gestures of patting on his leg makes him look that much more exhausted. A nap...shouldn't hurt, though. He's moving to lay down next to Lobelia, hands folded on his own lap - what, you wanted his head in your lap, dear husband? Make him!!]

Ergh. No. [DON'T CALL HIM OUT ON HIS POOR CHOICES.] I have other things to focus on.

[Verg speak for GOD I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH FOR THIS KIND OF THING]

[conchy]

[Great. They'll both get plenty out of the experience, rest assured.

Well... He had been offering his lap to Vergilius, but this works out just as well. With little shame, Lobelia plucks Vergilius' hands off his lap and shoos one away, wiggling his way beneath the other so it's wound around his shoulders. If Vergilius won't take up his offer of a fine lap pillow, Lobelia will simply use him as a pillow instead, cheek smooshed to his chest. None shame! None at all!!]

Are you truly so busy that you cannot spend an ounce of time on yourself? Absurdité! If you can't find the time, you'll make it.

[He's gonna rewrite that schedule to cross out several hours worth of miserable moping and pencil in some ✨fun✨.]

[immortalpoet]

...

[So obnoxious. Will Lobelia's crimes never cease.]

[Still, Vergilius, even if he is a depression gjinka, is rather warm. That beating heart is a plus.]

[Not that he isn't getting anything on his end, because Lobelia's head feels nice against him, the warm pressure a little comforting in its own way. His thumb starts to make little circles against the magician's shoulder, gentle and light.]

That's your philosophy. Not mine. [LEAVE HIS DAILY MOPING ALONE.] I'm a busy man, you know. It isn't all about me.

[conchy]

[It's been a long, long while since Lobelia could freely indulge in the heat of another's body. Vergilius has always struck him as particularly warm, but Lobelia doesn't mind one bit, settling in with a contented sigh and closing his eyes. All this Vergie just for him...]

Oui, oui, but even busy men must make time for themselves. By your logic, even putting your head down at night to sleep is much too self-indulgent.

[But Vergilius isn't going to stop sleeping, is he? No, and just as he shouldn't deny himself sleep, he shouldn't deny himself the equally human sensation of being happy.]

[immortalpoet]

That's just a physical need.

[And happiness isn't a physical need, in his opinion. Well, sure, you could make the argument for sex, but its always been more like scratching an itch than getting any kind of emotional gain from it.]

[He leans down to press his lips against the top of the other's head. It still feels so strange - affection to children seemed natural, even a hug or two for his coworkers, but this is new territory for him. He feels as uneven on his feet as a baby lamb.]

[conchy]

[This sort of warm, intimate contact was something Lobelia was quite used to as a boy, but he's been alone far longer than he was with his parents. He's always projected the appearance of someone warm and affable, but to actually be touched and held by someone who wants to touch and hold him? It's going to take some getting used to.

Lobelia heaves a quiet sigh, fingers loosely tangling into the fabric of Vergilius' blazer. If he lets himself get used to this, how badly is he going to pine for it when they're apart? Well, it's not as if he isn't constantly thinking of Vergilius as it is, but Lobelia could easily get addicted to this sort of easy, gentle contact.]

And so is happiness... but I know you've got an argument prepared to counter that as well. One step at a time, remember?

[immortalpoet]

How is happiness physical? And don't answer sex.

[In a way, he already has the answer right here, doesn't he? He realizes it too late. A warm body against his. Quiet comfort to be shared. The ease of breaths almost in sync.]

One step at a time...seems like a lot of steps.

[conchy]

Heh-ahaha! Don't be so crude!

[He supposes sex counts? Still, that definitely isn't what he meant. Lobelia hums, thinking the question over before committing to an answer.]

Your body feels a bit lighter when your mood is good, non? They say those who are happier live longer too! As for the length of your voyage, so long as you focus only on what's immediately in front of you, you'll get there in no time.