[Struck a nerve, did he? Vergilius is no longer tolerating any ounce of this, so with a put upon sigh, Lobelia relents. It's just like this stubborn old man to ruin his fun...
Lobelia settles back, but he doesn't go far.]
Oh? Is there a problรจme?
[Does he need to ask a question with such an obvious answer? For the sake of getting under Vergilius' skin and ensuring he sticks there, he absolutely does.]
[Of course there is. Of course he knows the answer to that. He feels toyed with. Batted at, like a paw playing around with a little animal. It doesn't make him feel small, necessarily, but one thing Vergilius never liked is to feel that someone is gaining the upper hand. Is it pride? Hard to say. Is it pride when you expect to be the most powerful person in the room because someone put you there?]
[His eyes blazing, he's now attempting to shift away, glancing around as if he can see the exit.]
I owe you nothing.
Edited (can i spell correctly for FIVE MINUTES) 2023-05-24 16:02 (UTC)
[How disappointing. Lobelia lifts his hands into the air as if to suggest that he won't make another move, but no matter how far Vergilius wanders in search of the exit, he won't find it. If he wants to leave, he can, but he'll have to ask.]
Really? That's a shame! I thought you might understand how to treat a date like a proper gentilhomme, but I suppose I misunderstood you. Shame.
[Is physical intimacy really that bad? Who hurt you, Vergilius? He'd at least be able to rest assured that there's little risk of any actual love blooming between them, right?]
[He's ignoring Lobelia for now - he moves away, trudging through the dead bodies of monsters and creatures as he tries to look for the way out. There isn't any. of course. The way he moves, with shoulders a little hunched, intention aggrieved but vaguely desperate, is like a lurching beast that is pacing along the inside of its cage.]
[When his search goes nowhere, he moves back towards the magician. His pants are stained from all the viscera he's trod through. He ignores it, as he always does.]
[His breath comes out with a disbelieving huff.]
This isn't a date. You just invited me to kill monsters. That's all.
[There's some satisfaction to be found in the way Vergilius paces like a cornered beast, desperation in every limb, but Lobelia doesn't let him go. He won't let him go. Not until he's torn apart the last monster crawling through this barren field and left him worse off than he started.
Lobelia chucklesโ is that not precisely what a date is? Two people doing what they enjoy and doing it together, but there's no point in saying so when Vergilius is not inclined to listen. Instead, Lobelia simply shrugs his shoulders.]
Are you truly that effrayรฉ? Perhaps you would have an easier time accepting death by my hand than you would the mere concept of a date. Heh! That can be arranged, you know.
[He at least understands that word. Something bristles in his stature, before its smoothed down into the cool edge of anger currently coming from his being. Another trap. Another time he wandered into something only to get something very different indeed. Afraid? How could he be?]
[His mouth draws back in a snarl.]
You wish.
[In regards to arranging his death - that seems like a pipe dream, some pathetic little fantasy. Lobelia has his powers, sure, but he's a Color. They are not equals.]
[We could've made this simple, Lobelia thinks, but that remains only as a thought. He's done enough damage, laid enough traps to keep Vergilius fuming on his own. It's his turn to affect calm and see how much ignoring Vergilius' demands stirs the anger within him.]
Non, you know I don't answer to demands any better than you do. Why don't you try asking nicely? Here, I'll even teach you the words: S'il vous plaรฎt, laissez-moi partir, monsieur Lobelia!
[He's not one for full-on curses, but here, it feels necessary. A way to bludgeon his dissatisfaction onto the other's head without actively pulling a weapon on him.]
Oh my! Comport yourself with รฉlรฉgance, Vergilius. You're being crass.
[Such anger... It's music to his ears, Lobelia's only regret that he hadn't managed to capture that curse within the confines of a conch. It's a mistake he won't make a second time.]
[The grunt that comes from him might as well just be another "fuck you", just unspoken - Vergilius is again turning to pace around quietly, his gladius clenched in his hand as he moves to the Ignore Everything Ever and Stew In Your Own Anger phase.]
[Poor, poor Vergilius... Lobelia really doesn't feel bad for him at all. It's amusing to watch him pace about and stew in his anger, and Lobelia leaves him to it for a time, but he eventually pipes up with a suggestion.]
Give me what I'm owed and I'll let you leave. Comprendre?
[Right, right, no deals. It's just a shame the one in the position of power here is not you, Vergilius. In the face of hell itself, Lobelia simply grins.]
Baise-moi ร mort.
[It's a simple request, one he hasn't given up on.]
[He grits his teeth. Helpless. Vulnerable. Useless. So much power, and there's no outlet for it. Like the man is holding him in his hand, and refusing to let up the pressure.]
[He could stay here forever. He really could. He's not even that averse to it - a place of nothing but death is fitting for the karma of his dark soul, is it not? But then again, he has something to walk towards. A light to keep alive. He can't be here in this place, he can't be made to be someone else's plaything in a game of sacrifice.]
[He pushes his bangs back with a gnarled hand to slide over his head and back, before glowing back over at the other man. It feels like a heel pressing into his shoulders, making him bow his head.]
........Not here.
[At least let him the dignity of not doing it among viscera.]
[This is revenge, Lobelia thinks. Karmic retribution for that terrible sadness Vergilius forced him to reconcile with. He never wants to feel such unpleasant emotions again, but the threat of that feels so very distant now. With Vergilius given no other choice to relent, how can Lobelia feel anything but ecstatic? This is happiness. This time, he's sure of it.]
Bon garรงon! You're a man of your word, aren't you, Vergilius?
[With a snap of his fingers, the world around them begins to dissipate and crumble. The monsters disappear along with it, but the memory of them doesn't, pungent and staining the fabric of their clothes.]
You're free to go for now, but don't keep me waiting. You've been rude enough as it is.
[But is he really free? He doesn't even want to look at Lobelia's face, groaning as he turns away to walk in the direction of the cabanas (and be witnessed like the weird walk of shame it is, without much of the shame).]
[........If there's anything to hang onto, its the knowledge that he had something Lobelia will never have. No amount of manipulation, obnoxiousness, or otherwise will change that.]
[He'll rub the remnants of happiness in the other's face, and hope he feels despair like no one has ever known.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Lobelia settles back, but he doesn't go far.]
Oh? Is there a problรจme?
[Does he need to ask a question with such an obvious answer? For the sake of getting under Vergilius' skin and ensuring he sticks there, he absolutely does.]
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[Of course there is. Of course he knows the answer to that. He feels toyed with. Batted at, like a paw playing around with a little animal. It doesn't make him feel small, necessarily, but one thing Vergilius never liked is to feel that someone is gaining the upper hand. Is it pride? Hard to say. Is it pride when you expect to be the most powerful person in the room because someone put you there?]
[His eyes blazing, he's now attempting to shift away, glancing around as if he can see the exit.]
I owe you nothing.
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Really? That's a shame! I thought you might understand how to treat a date like a proper gentilhomme, but I suppose I misunderstood you. Shame.
[Is physical intimacy really that bad? Who hurt you, Vergilius? He'd at least be able to rest assured that there's little risk of any actual love blooming between them, right?]
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[When his search goes nowhere, he moves back towards the magician. His pants are stained from all the viscera he's trod through. He ignores it, as he always does.]
[His breath comes out with a disbelieving huff.]
This isn't a date. You just invited me to kill monsters. That's all.
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Lobelia chucklesโ is that not precisely what a date is? Two people doing what they enjoy and doing it together, but there's no point in saying so when Vergilius is not inclined to listen. Instead, Lobelia simply shrugs his shoulders.]
Are you truly that effrayรฉ? Perhaps you would have an easier time accepting death by my hand than you would the mere concept of a date. Heh! That can be arranged, you know.
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[He at least understands that word. Something bristles in his stature, before its smoothed down into the cool edge of anger currently coming from his being. Another trap. Another time he wandered into something only to get something very different indeed. Afraid? How could he be?]
[His mouth draws back in a snarl.]
You wish.
[In regards to arranging his death - that seems like a pipe dream, some pathetic little fantasy. Lobelia has his powers, sure, but he's a Color. They are not equals.]
[(And yet, you're trapped...)]
Call this off. And I'm not making any more deals.
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Non, you know I don't answer to demands any better than you do. Why don't you try asking nicely? Here, I'll even teach you the words: S'il vous plaรฎt, laissez-moi partir, monsieur Lobelia!
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[He's not one for full-on curses, but here, it feels necessary. A way to bludgeon his dissatisfaction onto the other's head without actively pulling a weapon on him.]
Let me out.
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[Such anger... It's music to his ears, Lobelia's only regret that he hadn't managed to capture that curse within the confines of a conch. It's a mistake he won't make a second time.]
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[The grunt that comes from him might as well just be another "fuck you", just unspoken - Vergilius is again turning to pace around quietly, his gladius clenched in his hand as he moves to the Ignore Everything Ever and Stew In Your Own Anger phase.]
[It really is a pity there's no monsters left.]
[Well, there is one.]
[But this isn't a monster he can kill.]
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Give me what I'm owed and I'll let you leave. Comprendre?
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[He turns on his heel, eyes burning to the point they'd likely catch something on fire, as billowing as a flame.]
What are you even owed, exactly?
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Baise-moi ร mort.
[It's a simple request, one he hasn't given up on.]
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[He grits his teeth. Helpless. Vulnerable. Useless. So much power, and there's no outlet for it. Like the man is holding him in his hand, and refusing to let up the pressure.]
[He could stay here forever. He really could. He's not even that averse to it - a place of nothing but death is fitting for the karma of his dark soul, is it not? But then again, he has something to walk towards. A light to keep alive. He can't be here in this place, he can't be made to be someone else's plaything in a game of sacrifice.]
[He pushes his bangs back with a gnarled hand to slide over his head and back, before glowing back over at the other man. It feels like a heel pressing into his shoulders, making him bow his head.]
........Not here.
[At least let him the dignity of not doing it among viscera.]
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Bon garรงon! You're a man of your word, aren't you, Vergilius?
[With a snap of his fingers, the world around them begins to dissipate and crumble. The monsters disappear along with it, but the memory of them doesn't, pungent and staining the fabric of their clothes.]
You're free to go for now, but don't keep me waiting. You've been rude enough as it is.
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[Ah, freedom.]
[But is he really free? He doesn't even want to look at Lobelia's face, groaning as he turns away to walk in the direction of the cabanas (and be witnessed like the weird walk of shame it is, without much of the shame).]
[........If there's anything to hang onto, its the knowledge that he had something Lobelia will never have. No amount of manipulation, obnoxiousness, or otherwise will change that.]
[He'll rub the remnants of happiness in the other's face, and hope he feels despair like no one has ever known.]