IF WE AMASS ENOUGH SHITPOSTS NO ONE CAN READ OUR SHAME

[conchy]

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[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.

[immortalpoet]

...You know, for someone who can be so obnoxiously stupid, you might have a good thought once in a while.

[ONCE in a while. Emphasis on the once.]

[There's a long pause, head leaning against Lobelia's. Even those memories seem like a distant dream. Perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps it's a bad thing. He doesn't know.]

[A quiet murmur:]

Are you happy?

[conchy]

[That comment goes in one ear and out the other in favor of turning over Vergilius' comment in his head. Happy, happy, happy... He spent the entirety of his life wondering what happiness really was, but now that Lobelia knows with certainty, he's confronted with another issue: will this happiness be perpetual? Is this happiness a finite resource? Can it be refilled?

He hums a tune while he considers how best to answer a question he's woefully out of his depth to answer. Happiness, happiness, happiness...]

Tu me rends heureux. So long as I have you, that much will remain true. I'm certain of it.

[immortalpoet]

["As long as I have you", huh?]

[It's a sweet, saccharine statement. Vergilius may have a bleeding heart, but its not soft. And so, even in warm circumstances like these, he has to ask:]

And what if something happened to me, Lobelia?

[Because even if he is a Color, he died. Lobelia made sure of that. He wouldn't be the last to attempt such a thing.]

[conchy]

[Is it sweet? Sure, but that's not all it is.]

Then I would perish alongside you. Aussi simple que cela.

[It's a little insane. More than a little insane, perhaps, but Vergilius has long known this about Lobelia. Hopefully he wasn't expecting anything like a rational answer, but for what it's worth, Lobelia sounds quite content with it.]

I've found my happiness, Vergilius. All that remains is to find yours. In a manner of speaking, my grand final has already played out to its completion.

[I have nothing else, nor do I need it.]

[immortalpoet]

[Somehow it surprises him and doesn't surprise him at the same time. They made a blood oath. Unto hell. He made that deal so that the mad magician would never have to bother another again, torment others with his being.]

[It makes sense. But he supposed even Lobelia would maybe have an inkling of wanting to persist if circumstances pulled Vergilius out of his orbit permanently. Apparently not. The man is out of his mind.]

[But he was told he had a screw loose, once, too.]

[His finger makes a sideways eight on the other's shoulder.]

Till death do us part.

[conchy]

[That's the true nature of a promise. Lobelia has made so few in his life, and those he's made have never been broken with the exception of one. The Tower ensured he paid for it, if not in full due to the intervention of the administrators, but Lobelia has no intention of betraying his allegiance to Vergilis. Not now, not ever, no matter how many lives they live together.

Unto hell, until death do they part. Lobelia shifts, bringing his hand to Vergilius' to complete their "vow."]

Je le fais. Heheh! Très bien! You truly are a romantic at heart. Still, you've neglected one very important step of this process, haven't you?

[immortalpoet]

Oh, please.

[The tip of Lobelia's finger feels like it tickles against his own, rough against soft, scarred against unblemished.]

[The question is an answered with a huff, words tinged qith anusement he can't fully hide.]

And what is that? Remind this old guide.

[conchy]

Oh, please! As if you don't know. Don't they say that with age comes wisdom?

[Lobelia holds up his left hand and wiggles his fingers. There's a ring on his middle finger, but his ring finger is conspicuously bare.]

A ring precedes a vow, ma chère âme soeur. Are you so cheap that you would skip on the formalities?

[immortalpoet]

You got me there.

[Maybe he IS cheap. Time to get a Ring Pop.]

[But more seriously, what feels like something of a light comment on the strange binding nature of their relationship has wandered into new territory. A ring to bind them. A physical thing to emphasize the vow. Them made to be bound to one another, and one another alone.]

[The tips of his ears feel warm.]

...Where would I even get one? It's not like such a thing grows on trees.

[conchy]

[Lobelia peeks up at Vergilius, and seeing the flush on his ears, smiles. It was an innocuous comment initially, he's sure, but did Vergilius realize what sort of conversation he was walking into?]

The solution to your problem is simple! Make one.

[Make a whole ass wedding ring?? Hold on, let him explain.]

You have already left a permanent mark on my soul, so why not scar my body to match? Still, any mark you leave on me here is destined to fade... but I did promise you that we would not remain here forever.

[immortalpoet]

[He's looking at him like he's grown another head.]

You're asking me to scar you? As a so-called "ring"?

[what the heck]

[conchy]

Heh! Don't look at me like I've said something strange! Would such a permanent reminder of our bond not be appropriate, given the nature of our arrangement?

[translation: are they not already fucking insane, why not commit to the bit]

[immortalpoet]

[him sighing in being insane why does he have to be insane why wasn't he born in a normal city like a normal person so that things like this wouldn't be happening]

Doesn't that mean you need to return the favor?

[conchy]

Naturellement! In fact, I would be delighted to!

[One more scar to wear is no big deal, is it Vergie?]

[immortalpoet]

[:|]

[Of course he is.]

You don't even have a weapon to make a scar with.

[conchy]

Heh-ahaha!

[No weapon? Please! Lobelia is the weapon. Lifting a hand, Lobelia rapidly snaps his fingers — snap, snap, snap, snap, snap — and slices into the tree looming above them, a rough circle cut into the bark.]

It's a simple matter to carve a pattern into an object... or another person, with my audiomancy. Need I remind you how versatile and wildly powerful my peerless magic is?

[immortalpoet]

[....Right.]

[He stares up at the tree with its garish gashes, before his gaze fixes on Lobelia. Mad magicians and their immense weird sound powers (just Lobelia).]

Don't hype yourself up. [binch] But I get your point. And what would you want me to use? My gladius? I could slice your finger off.

[conchy]

[Please, don't spare him any praise!! Lobelia is certain that somewhere deep, deep down inside of Vergilius, he's very impressed with his abilities. He's gotta be.

As for his question? Lobelia practically giggles (gross) and squeezes Vergilius tight. Cutting his finger off... Ah, he wouldn't mind that one bit, however—]

Je te fais confiance. I know you're quite skilled with a blade. Should you get overexcited and cut my finger off, I won't hold it against you! I'll understand! You can fashion a necklace out of it and wear it for good luck.

[immortalpoet]

[In the most deadpan voice.]

If you say things like that, I'll just cut your hand off for good measure.

[WHY ARE YOU LIKE THISSSSS]

[conchy]

Ah, you're so violent! You aren't romantic at all! Très bien!

[VERGILIUS, DON'T GET HIM WOUND UP]

[immortalpoet]

That reaction is going to get the arm off, now. And I won't reset you by killing you either.

[INB4 HE REALIZES THIS IS GETTING HIM WOUND UP HE KEEPS WALKING INTO THIS]

[conchy]

Heheh! What delightful agonie! You'll keep me alive to savor the pain that much longer, non?! Ahhh! What a wonderful idea!

[Vergilius is so considerate making all these threats of bodily harm. If that isn't foreplay, what is?]