[The moment Vergilius relents is the moment Lobelia curls forward and buries his face in his assailant's shoulder. Woe is he, his balls aching terribly... Comfort him, bully.]
[Lobelia's just gonna snake a hand down like he intends to repay the favor, but even if Vergilius lets him get that far, Lobelia won't subject his balls to such torment. He said he wouldn't hurt Vergilius anymore, after all.]
I don't even know if you're strong enough for that.
[His hand does go to slide around the other's back, splaying fingers against his upper back to keep him close. Body against body. For as much as he was teasing Lobelia earlier with the cute comment, the feeling of the man's head tucked in the crook of his neck makes something sincere twinge in his chest, a soft, aching feeling. A sweet toothache.]
Mm. [How funny. It's like Lobelia is so vulnerable here, even if he knows very well he isn't. He's not even going to stop his hand moving where it does.] Serves you right for that attitude.
[He's longed for years to simply be held in a loving embrace again and hadn't even realized it, but when Vergilius' hand winds around him, his heart aches terribly. On impulse, Lobelia frees up both hands to squeeze Vergilius in his arms. He'll betray his lover's trust and bust his balls some other time, but for right now, the best remedy for his aches and pains is simply Vergilius' warm embrace.]
You expect far too much modesty from me. I believe that is your issue.
Not as strong as me. If we took your audiomancy away from you, where would you be? I'd pulverize you to dust.
[He says it matter-of-fact as anything. The arms wrap around him. He wants to sink into them, suddenly. The memories he was trying to push back from what just happened feel like they've been brought to the forefront again. Warm touches, love, the gentle laughter of children.]
[He holds Lobelia tenderly, like he hasn't held anyone in a long, long time.]
... [It takes a moment for him to say anything.] Oh? What should I expect, then...?
What a silly thing to say, Vergilius. If you take away the source of anyone's strength, they become weak.
[He'd sought this embrace out for purely selfish reasons, but he isn't the only one benefitting from it, Lobelia realizes. Distracting each other with their bodies can only do so much to detract from the nightmares they'd walked through together, the agony so much more poignant for Vergilius. To that end, this hug might be just what Vergilius needs.
So, about that nap. It's certainly not off the table, Lobelia bringing them down on their sides in the grass while still tucked in their embrace. If they want to smash each other's brains out, they can do that later. After all, they've got nothing but time now. They've got nothing but each other.]
[He tips along with him, still holding him close. Lobelia. Of all people, Lobelia. Who would've even thought this could happen? Them right now, held so close?]
[He doesn't know what to feel. Even sex was only something temporary to keep everything at bay, like a measly little barrier to keep away a flood.]
[He still doesn't cry.]
[Maybe he just doesn't know how to.]
...Hah. [An exhale of a laugh, tickling the other's ear.] You make me sound like a damsel in distress.
[Everyone needs a helping hand every now and then, even crotchety old men like Vergilius. If he won't fight for the sake of his own interests, why can't Lobelia take up the mantle?
Lobelia shifts, fingers idly combing through Vergilius' hair. What will it take to lift his spirits? Time, perhaps, in the absence of anything more comforting. Warm arms and quiet words are all Lobelia knows to offer, for whatever those things are worth.]
Who do you turn to in times of need, Vergilius? You know it's foolish to bottle up every ounce of pain and expect it not to burn you a second time.
[Not that Lobelia has much room to talk, having isolated himself from the wider world long ago, but he doesn't feel pain as Vergilius does.]
[Life is easier to move through alone. Lobelia knows this well, but a lonely life is an unhappy one. As such, he won't allow Vergilius to overlook the pact they've made to one another and the bond that comes along with it, his touch softening as if to implore Vergilius to listen well.]
I won't leave you behind. Not in this life and certainly not in the last. Do you think me so weak that I cannot shoulder your burden with you?
[He's abandoned as much as he could. His only light forward is for the sake of a lost boy, burning like a red star, and a girl who is no longer who she used to be. That's all. That's it. No one else. And at the end, his own soul would be laid to rest, and that is that ("this is this" comes an echo from a familiar voice, far away).]
[Can he believe Lobelia? Stubborn man. Horrible man. He wormed in, killed him, tore out his heart. That same man who pushed him to despair is now pulling him up towards a brighter light. He needs it too, selfish young thing he is.]
[For some, the truth comes far too late, revelations coming at the end of life when the path forward can no longer be taken. "Death" was a release in much the same way that it was a new beginning, but Lobelia wouldn't have come to the realization that more awaits for him than the same persistent emptiness he's always known if it hadn't been for Vergilius.
Vergilius. His guide, his reason to exist, his path forward. Lobelia quietly presses their foreheads together and watches Vergilius through the veil of his lashes, considering how dutifully the man guided him towards genuine happiness and wondering what must be done to guide Vergilius just as effectively.
A long road lies ahead of them, but Vergilius taught him well. If someone like himself, hollow and broken, can be made whole, there isn't a doubt in Lobelia's mind that Vergilius can be pieced back together too.
With all of that considered, Lobelia falls silent until he can answer Vergilius in earnest.]
...Oui. I love you, Vergilius, even if your feelings do not mirror mine. That means it's my role to guide you to happiness just as you have for me. You have my word that I won't stop until I've seen my duty through.
[He doesn't know what his feelings are. Yes, perhaps they don't mirror Lobelia's. It would be simple if they did, but he's not that kind of person. He hates him. He tolerates him. He feels he's an anchor to hold onto in the bitter night. He wants to tear him apart. He wants to put him together.]
[He noses along the edge of the other's cheek for a quiet moment. His next words are like a whisper.]
[A simple 'thank you' is more than enough for Lobelia. It's splendid, fulfilling, like a shining gem he's been entrusted with protecting. Still, if anyone is grateful here, it is himself. Without Vergilius, he truly would have nothing.
Lobelia's acknowledgment comes in the form of a hum, joining Vergilius and closing his eyes.]
You're welcome. Now get some rest, hm?
[There's no guaranteeing that sleep will help Vergilius feel any better, but if nothing else, Lobelia knows that resting will give his mind an opportunity to compartmentalize that mess of emotion in him and bring him back to his baseline. If that will set Vergilius back on the correct path, then Lobelia will insist he get as much rest as his body demands.]
[What are you, his parent?? WHO IS THE DILF HERE????]
[But he's keeping his eyes closed despite the little huff of a statement. Sleep, huh. Even now, he feels like he's drifting off a little bit, the tension in his muscles easing. He still has Lobelia close - the hand against the other's back moves, and the wound from his finger stings, ever so slightly. A little raw. A little new.]
[Lobelia hasn't decided whether or not he'll join Vergilius in napping. There isn't anyone here he'd consider a threat against Vergilius' safety, but it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out, does it?
On the other hand, he finds that even if he wouldn't mind sleeping for a time, he's a bit too wound up to rest anything more than his eyes. Why that might be is nothing he lets his mind linger on, but beneath Vergilius' touch, his muscles remain tense.]
Mm... Oui. At the moment, I suppose I am. Why shouldn't I be?
[He's a little surprised at the question, one eye cracking open, the light from it like a passing candle held by a person at a door in the nighttime. He can feel the tension still, and wonders on it.]
[His thumb makes a circle on the other's back muscle, between the ridges near his shoulder blade.]
[βAh, so Vergilius noticed the tension in his muscles. That doesn't surprise Lobelia, but it does inspire a chuckle and a crooked, if genuine, smile. Drawing in a breath, Lobelia attempts to relax, but it's not particularly effective.]
Would it have concerned you if I wasn't?
[He does his best not to sound too haughty when he asks, lest Vergilius treat him to another round of cbt.]
["Concerned" is an interesting word. Surely Lobelia has sung his praises to the moon and beyond in terms of his devotion and love for the man, even after his murder. But Vergilius hasn't expressed much of the same, choosing actions over words. Then again, does he know if he can feel concerned for such a man? Worry for him? Care for him?]
[He finally lets out a low hum. His finger is idly drawing a tree, puffy at its top.]
[Lobelia has never expected love from Vergilius in turn, anticipating his devotion to be a purely one-sided affair and resigning himself to that fate with ease... and yet he can't answer Vergilius' simple question as effortlessly as he had before.
He's happy, isn't he? Of course, of course. What could make him happier than having Vergilius? There are moments where he feels his elation much more strongly than he does now, but it's not as if he's anything close to unhappy. Still, he's happiest when Vergilius is embracing him, when his red gaze is boring into his own, when he's on the receiving end of his ravenous touch. A simple "thank you" should suffice, and yet...]
...I suppose I might wonder as well. Unfortunately, in such a case, I don't think I would have a proper answer for you. This is all quite new to me.
[Even what relationships he had at home were temporary at best, purely physical itches at worst. Fixers, at high levels, simply understood they were not made for bonds. His kids were an exception, perhaps, but...]
[New in a bad way? Vergilius really is perceptive. Lobelia isn't one to easily admit when he doesn't understand something, but he considers Vergilius' question with an arched brow and attempts to puzzle through the issue and come up with an answer. Think, think, think...
In the end, he opts for honesty. He'll accept the blow to his ego in the vain hope that discussing the matter might produce the answers he's looking for.]
Would you believe me if I told you that the answer eludes me? Something isn't quite right, but what that something might be... Well! I'm sure the answer will dawn on me eventually. I am a genius, after all.
[One can practically hear the eye roll in his words with that one.]
Genius or not, this is new to you. Hm. [What could be bothering him? He's trying to understand, himself, brow furrowing. He does lean on a light statement for now, masking his own slight confusion.] You're not missing your conches, are you?
[Vergilius suggestion manages to urge a lighthearted laugh out of Lobelia, at least. His precious conches... Please don't remind him of the real execution that took place after trial.]
Heheh! Perhaps that's it?
[No. I know that isn't right.]
Conches are the perfect medium for controlling sound, and while it's true that my heart aches terribly without my archive, this is a different sort of feeling. Somehow, this is much more uncomfortable!
[Ah. Uncomfortable. That's one way to put it, right? He's making progress.]
[He moves - a shift of the hands on his back, dipping his head to place his ear against the other's chest.]
[The heart beats, like it always has. Sometimes something like this would comfort a child with tears streaking down their face, unsure whether the pain they were feeling was physical or entirely emotional. It was always the latter.]
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[He does relent, pulling his hand back - his red eyes are aflame, like a demon. A ball-crushing demon.]
Oh? I'm sorry. This old guide thought you were asking him to put you in your place.
[Here, have a little peck of a kiss - almost gentle and playful compared with being an absolute bastard, here.]
Here I thought you liked pain. Could've fooled me.
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Everyone has limits, chΓ©ri. How would you like it if I treated you the same way?
[Lobelia's just gonna snake a hand down like he intends to repay the favor, but even if Vergilius lets him get that far, Lobelia won't subject his balls to such torment. He said he wouldn't hurt Vergilius anymore, after all.]
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[His hand does go to slide around the other's back, splaying fingers against his upper back to keep him close. Body against body. For as much as he was teasing Lobelia earlier with the cute comment, the feeling of the man's head tucked in the crook of his neck makes something sincere twinge in his chest, a soft, aching feeling. A sweet toothache.]
Mm. [How funny. It's like Lobelia is so vulnerable here, even if he knows very well he isn't. He's not even going to stop his hand moving where it does.] Serves you right for that attitude.
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[He's longed for years to simply be held in a loving embrace again and hadn't even realized it, but when Vergilius' hand winds around him, his heart aches terribly. On impulse, Lobelia frees up both hands to squeeze Vergilius in his arms. He'll betray his lover's trust and bust his balls some other time, but for right now, the best remedy for his aches and pains is simply Vergilius' warm embrace.]
You expect far too much modesty from me. I believe that is your issue.
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[He says it matter-of-fact as anything. The arms wrap around him. He wants to sink into them, suddenly. The memories he was trying to push back from what just happened feel like they've been brought to the forefront again. Warm touches, love, the gentle laughter of children.]
[He holds Lobelia tenderly, like he hasn't held anyone in a long, long time.]
... [It takes a moment for him to say anything.] Oh? What should I expect, then...?
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[He'd sought this embrace out for purely selfish reasons, but he isn't the only one benefitting from it, Lobelia realizes. Distracting each other with their bodies can only do so much to detract from the nightmares they'd walked through together, the agony so much more poignant for Vergilius. To that end, this hug might be just what Vergilius needs.
So, about that nap. It's certainly not off the table, Lobelia bringing them down on their sides in the grass while still tucked in their embrace. If they want to smash each other's brains out, they can do that later. After all, they've got nothing but time now. They've got nothing but each other.]
But you can expect that I'll act on your behalf should that strength of yours ever fail you. Call me an Γ©gotiste if you will, but I'm confident in my abilities. They're enough to protect even you, and of that I am nothing but certain.
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[He tips along with him, still holding him close. Lobelia. Of all people, Lobelia. Who would've even thought this could happen? Them right now, held so close?]
[He doesn't know what to feel. Even sex was only something temporary to keep everything at bay, like a measly little barrier to keep away a flood.]
[He still doesn't cry.]
[Maybe he just doesn't know how to.]
...Hah. [An exhale of a laugh, tickling the other's ear.] You make me sound like a damsel in distress.
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Lobelia shifts, fingers idly combing through Vergilius' hair. What will it take to lift his spirits? Time, perhaps, in the absence of anything more comforting. Warm arms and quiet words are all Lobelia knows to offer, for whatever those things are worth.]
Who do you turn to in times of need, Vergilius? You know it's foolish to bottle up every ounce of pain and expect it not to burn you a second time.
[Not that Lobelia has much room to talk, having isolated himself from the wider world long ago, but he doesn't feel pain as Vergilius does.]
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[That's the honest truth. After everyone died, even Lapis, in her own way, there was no one else.]
[The lone guide, carrying the burden of thousands of lost souls.]
I can handle it. [He makes a soft noise at the hand in his hair, red eyes fluttering a little - the eyelashes brush Lobelia's cheek.] I always have.
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[Life is easier to move through alone. Lobelia knows this well, but a lonely life is an unhappy one. As such, he won't allow Vergilius to overlook the pact they've made to one another and the bond that comes along with it, his touch softening as if to implore Vergilius to listen well.]
I won't leave you behind. Not in this life and certainly not in the last. Do you think me so weak that I cannot shoulder your burden with you?
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[......]
[What does he even say to that?]
[He's abandoned as much as he could. His only light forward is for the sake of a lost boy, burning like a red star, and a girl who is no longer who she used to be. That's all. That's it. No one else. And at the end, his own soul would be laid to rest, and that is that ("this is this" comes an echo from a familiar voice, far away).]
[Can he believe Lobelia? Stubborn man. Horrible man. He wormed in, killed him, tore out his heart. That same man who pushed him to despair is now pulling him up towards a brighter light. He needs it too, selfish young thing he is.]
[He closes his eyes, finally.]
Mm. Dunno. Are you offering to be my guide?
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Vergilius. His guide, his reason to exist, his path forward. Lobelia quietly presses their foreheads together and watches Vergilius through the veil of his lashes, considering how dutifully the man guided him towards genuine happiness and wondering what must be done to guide Vergilius just as effectively.
A long road lies ahead of them, but Vergilius taught him well. If someone like himself, hollow and broken, can be made whole, there isn't a doubt in Lobelia's mind that Vergilius can be pieced back together too.
With all of that considered, Lobelia falls silent until he can answer Vergilius in earnest.]
...Oui. I love you, Vergilius, even if your feelings do not mirror mine. That means it's my role to guide you to happiness just as you have for me. You have my word that I won't stop until I've seen my duty through.
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[Another sigh.]
[I love you.]
[He doesn't know what his feelings are. Yes, perhaps they don't mirror Lobelia's. It would be simple if they did, but he's not that kind of person. He hates him. He tolerates him. He feels he's an anchor to hold onto in the bitter night. He wants to tear him apart. He wants to put him together.]
[He noses along the edge of the other's cheek for a quiet moment. His next words are like a whisper.]
...Thank you.
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Lobelia's acknowledgment comes in the form of a hum, joining Vergilius and closing his eyes.]
You're welcome. Now get some rest, hm?
[There's no guaranteeing that sleep will help Vergilius feel any better, but if nothing else, Lobelia knows that resting will give his mind an opportunity to compartmentalize that mess of emotion in him and bring him back to his baseline. If that will set Vergilius back on the correct path, then Lobelia will insist he get as much rest as his body demands.]
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[What are you, his parent?? WHO IS THE DILF HERE????]
[But he's keeping his eyes closed despite the little huff of a statement. Sleep, huh. Even now, he feels like he's drifting off a little bit, the tension in his muscles easing. He still has Lobelia close - the hand against the other's back moves, and the wound from his finger stings, ever so slightly. A little raw. A little new.]
[A quiet question.]
Are you happy?
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On the other hand, he finds that even if he wouldn't mind sleeping for a time, he's a bit too wound up to rest anything more than his eyes. Why that might be is nothing he lets his mind linger on, but beneath Vergilius' touch, his muscles remain tense.]
Mm... Oui. At the moment, I suppose I am. Why shouldn't I be?
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[He's a little surprised at the question, one eye cracking open, the light from it like a passing candle held by a person at a door in the nighttime. He can feel the tension still, and wonders on it.]
[His thumb makes a circle on the other's back muscle, between the ridges near his shoulder blade.]
I just wanted to hear if you were. That's all.
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Would it have concerned you if I wasn't?
[He does his best not to sound too haughty when he asks, lest Vergilius treat him to another round of cbt.]
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["Concerned" is an interesting word. Surely Lobelia has sung his praises to the moon and beyond in terms of his devotion and love for the man, even after his murder. But Vergilius hasn't expressed much of the same, choosing actions over words. Then again, does he know if he can feel concerned for such a man? Worry for him? Care for him?]
[He finally lets out a low hum. His finger is idly drawing a tree, puffy at its top.]
I would wonder why.
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He's happy, isn't he? Of course, of course. What could make him happier than having Vergilius? There are moments where he feels his elation much more strongly than he does now, but it's not as if he's anything close to unhappy. Still, he's happiest when Vergilius is embracing him, when his red gaze is boring into his own, when he's on the receiving end of his ravenous touch. A simple "thank you" should suffice, and yet...]
...I suppose I might wonder as well. Unfortunately, in such a case, I don't think I would have a proper answer for you. This is all quite new to me.
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[Even what relationships he had at home were temporary at best, purely physical itches at worst. Fixers, at high levels, simply understood they were not made for bonds. His kids were an exception, perhaps, but...]
[He sighs.]
What's new in a bad way?
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In the end, he opts for honesty. He'll accept the blow to his ego in the vain hope that discussing the matter might produce the answers he's looking for.]
Would you believe me if I told you that the answer eludes me? Something isn't quite right, but what that something might be... Well! I'm sure the answer will dawn on me eventually. I am a genius, after all.
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[One can practically hear the eye roll in his words with that one.]
Genius or not, this is new to you. Hm. [What could be bothering him? He's trying to understand, himself, brow furrowing. He does lean on a light statement for now, masking his own slight confusion.] You're not missing your conches, are you?
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Heheh! Perhaps that's it?
[No. I know that isn't right.]
Conches are the perfect medium for controlling sound, and while it's true that my heart aches terribly without my archive, this is a different sort of feeling. Somehow, this is much more uncomfortable!
[Ah. Uncomfortable. That's one way to put it, right? He's making progress.]
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[He moves - a shift of the hands on his back, dipping his head to place his ear against the other's chest.]
[The heart beats, like it always has. Sometimes something like this would comfort a child with tears streaking down their face, unsure whether the pain they were feeling was physical or entirely emotional. It was always the latter.]
So you're saying your heart aches?
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