[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 garçon! 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.]
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no subject
[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.]
no subject
Bon garçon! 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.
no subject
[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.]