Oui, quite so. They offered me an opportunity to take a different path in life. Rather... they forced my hand.
[Lobelia snickers, not terribly put off by the way his life was forcibly upended. Having someone to look after him, whether that's merely keeping him on a leash or otherwise, suits him just fine.]
So you choose to live and you're honoring all of that and everything that goes with it. [ hmm, hmm, he hums. ]
I think you should call it whatever you want, words like redemption are overrated and just spouted by old geezers who think they know better than everyone else.
But, now you're living "cleanly". Is it fun? Do you like it?
[One he'll give some actual thought to, tilting his chin skyward with a hum.]
I would not call it fun, non, but I can't complain about it either. Fun is only ever temporary. It would be pointless for me to mourn the loss of something so fini.
Hehe, who knows! [ it is both a mystery and very ramuda. but maybe he does mean to tempt in some way, as he punctuates that with a kiss along his jaw. ]
Then do you not need the vials I found in here either? [ he does not have the glass vials on him, probably because there is a not so small risk that they would get crushed in any of the many hugs and embraces he steals from people throughout the day. no one needs Mystery red liquid or crushed shells(?) spilled on them. ]
[The kiss is met with the warmth of his laughter, something that stays nestled low in his throat. At the question, Lobelia shakes his head.]
Non, not for any particular purpose. I've done what I can with the tools I have available to me... so what remains here is purely spectacle. If you wish to redecorate, I leave the finer details in your hands.
Okie-dokie, look forward to it! [ the only reason lobelia's jail won't become like ramuda's office in shibuya is that the setting lacks the tools he needs for that. probably. ]
But ya know, I still don't really know that much 'bout your craft. It involves sound right? And music, and things like that hook. [ points helpfully. ]
I wanna know more! Even if it's not like how my mic works, I'm curious~.
[ should he be creeped out by this jail and everything lobelia has told him? most definitely. but this is ramura, and he's drawn to eccentricities and oddities like a butterfly to a flower and it's not like he hasn't seen horrors before. ]
[Why not give Ramuda this much power? It's fun, it's entertaining, and it makes them both happy. Lobelia needs no better reason.
He doesn't mind demonstrating his audiomancy for Ramudaβ far from it. But to do it properly, he needs his hands free, which means setting Ramuda down. He settles him into the... torture chair... and pulls up a stool, taking his place directly before him.]
Who am I to deny you? Very well, mon cher. Close your eyes for me... or, if you prefer, I can close them myself.
[ torture chair.... it's fine, ramuda settles into it, knees drawn up to his chest not in a defensive posture, but because he's tiny and this is comfy for him. ]
Ask and you'll receive! β‘ [ with that he does close his eyes, like a good boy. ]
[What a good boy. Lobelia smiles, the room falls silent, and thenβ]
Can you hear me, mon cher?
[His voice blooms beneath Ramuda's skinβ no sound in the air, nothing spoken aloud. It unfurls inside Ramuda's head itself, intimate and soft, a whisper sweet enough to border on intrusive. Most would recoil from something so alien, but Ramuda's relationship with sound is not like most. Lobelia imagines his reaction will be unique.]
[ it's a very near thing that ramuda doesn't open his eyes; he almost does on both reflex and temptation alone. but he doesn't even if he does start in his seat, and even if his heart goes thump thump like a startled rabbit's.
his hands however do go up to his ears, not to cover them but to see if that distorts the perception any. ]
Whoa, I do, I do! [ surprise, curiosity, and yes a little bit of alarm. but ramuda does not recoil from the intrusion; it's different from how it feels to be hit with the beat of a hypnosis mic but the way it's in his head is familiar even if this isn't a sound he's heard before. ]
[Very good. Ramuda is choosing to trust him, a rare treat Lobelia will savor and appreciate. Few people trust him. Most fear him, and for good reason. The few who would remain by his side despite that are certainly a rare breed.
Ramuda's hands near his ears do nothing to muddle the clarity of Lobelia's voice. If anything, they frame it.]
Oui. Explaining is tedious... so allow me to show you instead.
[Sound has bones, muscle, breathβ if you know how to shape it. Lobelia's hum is soft, but the air stirs as if woken from sleep. A slow pulse grows, syncing to the hammering rhythm of Ramuda's heartbeat. Faint whispers bloom in his mind: fragments of a song he has never heard. A nursery rhyme, lilting and strangeβ children circling a ruined lighthouse, hands clasped, urging its dead lantern to shine once more.]
There is no real boundary to what sound can do. Music, a whisper, a single word... all of it is power. But you already understand that, don't you, mon cher?
[ ooooh...the song is unfamiliar but ramuda starts to sway to it anyway, instinctual in the same way as a fish to the sea, or a bird taking to the skies. he's taken by the haunting melody, heartbeat calming. ]
Mmhmm. [ less lilted than his usual, he's Listening real hard. ] You can do anything with sound, words, a beat, music, if you know how to craft it.
If I could show you what my music looks like, it'd look really different. But I think that makes it more fun. [ his music is an attack of color, bright, neon, ridiculous energy all sugar sweet. ]
his eyes are still closed so the contact comes by surprise, but ramuda's clearly delighted by it. he adds his other hand on top of lobelia's, like a stack of pancakes, a happy hum of his own. ]
Hehe, well it's not the same but—
[ he doesn't have his mic which really is a pity, but he can still rap like this. tap,tap,tap, he builds a beat with his foot: ]
Jump on the beat and the buzz is contagious, Snapping in sync, weβre delightfully dangerous, Kicking out lines with a candy-bright spark, You fire one back and it lights up the dark.
[Ramuda's hands are small, but they're soft and warmβ a welcome treat for someone like Lobelia who so seldom keeps company. His fingers lightly squeeze Ramuda's.
Lobelia listens with rapt attention. Ah... he's heard monks chant in similar fashion, but rap is a genre he knows precious little about. Chalk it up to a lack of exposure... but now, he's been blessed with the opportunity to soak it all in. He'll hum along and provide the melody, but the lyrics? Those are all Ramuda.]
Belle. Words spoken from the soul, aren't they? You fascinate me with your craft.
Mmmhmm! From my soul in this moment, in this tempo, just the two of us.
You said it yourself, the words matter, the timing matters, the emotion matters—it shapes sound and gives it life. Our mics represent us just as much as our speakers do...it's kinda hard to explain, but mine look like candy β.
[Lobelia shifts back into speaking aloud, but not before leaning in to give Ramuda a featherlight kiss. With a face that sweet, how could he resist?]
Go ahead and open your eyes.
[So Ramuda can see him smiling, almost laughing.]
Sweets are delicious, naturellement... but dangerous in high doses. Tell me, mon petitβ what kind of sweet are you? The sort one can savor freely, or the kind that must be indulged in sparingly?
[ what a treat for ramuda, a kiss and then a smile like that. he grins, laughter lighter than it usually is. ]
Hmm...the kind that has a tang you don't expect! [ so maybe closer to the latter, though ramuda doesn't say that. what he does instead is lean in to pull lobelia into a kiss, all sweet. ]
[Of course. What other type would Ramuda be? Lobelia leans easily into the kiss, letting this one linger just a touch longer. He wants to commit that flavor to memory.]
Unexpected surprises are the best kind, oui? I've always enjoyed being kept on my toes.
[Lobelia doesn't sound offended, simply surprised... and pleasantly so, at that. He is an intense person, but it takes eyes capable of stripping back his polished exterior to see the chaos beneath to recognize that.]
That makes two of us, mon cher. Better than dispassionate and without joy, oui?
Mmmhmm, you totes do! [ they're sitting in chairs across from each other, aren't they? this is the opportunity ramuda takes to get up and just hop in lobelia's lap without asking.
there's a beat here in spite of ramuda's best efforts, because what lobelia said is a very casual thing to say and ramuda shouldn't put much stake in it. still- ]
I think so. But I know some people who think really differently, they just care about results. I think that's really boring, though.
[The weight of Ramuda in his lap is an oddly comforting thing. He's just the right size too, diminutive as he is. Lobelia allows him into his space without complaint, loosely winding his arms around him.]
Oui... I have known a few of those types myself. They don't care for grand flourishes, or passion, or leaving a lasting impact... only numbers and data.
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[Lobelia snickers, not terribly put off by the way his life was forcibly upended. Having someone to look after him, whether that's merely keeping him on a leash or otherwise, suits him just fine.]
But I would not mistake the opportunity as rΓ©demption. I simply hit a fork on the path and was made to choose: life or death. Continue as I had been and perish, or live cleanly.
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I think you should call it whatever you want, words like redemption are overrated and just spouted by old geezers who think they know better than everyone else.
But, now you're living "cleanly". Is it fun? Do you like it?
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Fun, you say? An interesting question.
[One he'll give some actual thought to, tilting his chin skyward with a hum.]
I would not call it fun, non, but I can't complain about it either. Fun is only ever temporary. It would be pointless for me to mourn the loss of something so fini.
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Pleasure and fun are temporary yeah, but there's always the next time. It'd be real boring to limit yourself to never feeling those highs again.
[ he looks up as he is so used to doing, watching lobelia's expression with bare curiosity. ]
But all of that aside, why keep this place like this then?
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Do you mean to tempt me? Ayez pitiΓ©! My promise comes before my own whims.
[Lobelia's expression is plainly amused. If Ramuda truly knows what he's asking for, then they exist in similar worlds. That's...
...]
Mm, as for this place, I suppose it's remained the same only because I have no need or inclination to change it.
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Then do you not need the vials I found in here either? [ he does not have the glass vials on him, probably because there is a not so small risk that they would get crushed in any of the many hugs and embraces he steals from people throughout the day. no one needs Mystery red liquid or crushed shells(?) spilled on them. ]
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Non, not for any particular purpose. I've done what I can with the tools I have available to me... so what remains here is purely spectacle. If you wish to redecorate, I leave the finer details in your hands.
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Okie-dokie, look forward to it! [ the only reason lobelia's jail won't become like ramuda's office in shibuya is that the setting lacks the tools he needs for that. probably. ]
But ya know, I still don't really know that much 'bout your craft. It involves sound right? And music, and things like that hook. [ points helpfully. ]
I wanna know more! Even if it's not like how my mic works, I'm curious~.
[ should he be creeped out by this jail and everything lobelia has told him? most definitely. but this is ramura, and he's drawn to eccentricities and oddities like a butterfly to a flower and it's not like he hasn't seen horrors before. ]
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He doesn't mind demonstrating his audiomancy for Ramudaβ far from it. But to do it properly, he needs his hands free, which means setting Ramuda down. He settles him into the... torture chair... and pulls up a stool, taking his place directly before him.]
Who am I to deny you? Very well, mon cher. Close your eyes for me... or, if you prefer, I can close them myself.
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Ask and you'll receive! β‘ [ with that he does close his eyes, like a good boy. ]
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Can you hear me, mon cher?
[His voice blooms beneath Ramuda's skinβ no sound in the air, nothing spoken aloud. It unfurls inside Ramuda's head itself, intimate and soft, a whisper sweet enough to border on intrusive. Most would recoil from something so alien, but Ramuda's relationship with sound is not like most. Lobelia imagines his reaction will be unique.]
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his hands however do go up to his ears, not to cover them but to see if that distorts the perception any. ]
Whoa, I do, I do! [ surprise, curiosity, and yes a little bit of alarm. but ramuda does not recoil from the intrusion; it's different from how it feels to be hit with the beat of a hypnosis mic but the way it's in his head is familiar even if this isn't a sound he's heard before. ]
Are you projecting inside my head?
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Ramuda's hands near his ears do nothing to muddle the clarity of Lobelia's voice. If anything, they frame it.]
Oui. Explaining is tedious... so allow me to show you instead.
[Sound has bones, muscle, breathβ if you know how to shape it. Lobelia's hum is soft, but the air stirs as if woken from sleep. A slow pulse grows, syncing to the hammering rhythm of Ramuda's heartbeat. Faint whispers bloom in his mind: fragments of a song he has never heard. A nursery rhyme, lilting and strangeβ children circling a ruined lighthouse, hands clasped, urging its dead lantern to shine once more.]
There is no real boundary to what sound can do. Music, a whisper, a single word... all of it is power. But you already understand that, don't you, mon cher?
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Mmhmm. [ less lilted than his usual, he's Listening real hard. ] You can do anything with sound, words, a beat, music, if you know how to craft it.
If I could show you what my music looks like, it'd look really different. But I think that makes it more fun. [ his music is an attack of color, bright, neon, ridiculous energy all sugar sweet. ]
We should sing together sometime!
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Oui! I would love to join our voices in song. If you had your microphone... I imagine the tune would be delightfully dangerous.
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his eyes are still closed so the contact comes by surprise, but ramuda's clearly delighted by it. he adds his other hand on top of lobelia's, like a stack of pancakes, a happy hum of his own. ]
Hehe, well it's not the same but—
[ he doesn't have his mic which really is a pity, but he can still rap like this. tap,tap,tap, he builds a beat with his foot: ]
Jump on the beat and the buzz is contagious,
Snapping in sync, weβre delightfully dangerous,
Kicking out lines with a candy-bright spark,
You fire one back and it lights up the dark.
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Lobelia listens with rapt attention. Ah... he's heard monks chant in similar fashion, but rap is a genre he knows precious little about. Chalk it up to a lack of exposure... but now, he's been blessed with the opportunity to soak it all in. He'll hum along and provide the melody, but the lyrics? Those are all Ramuda.]
Belle. Words spoken from the soul, aren't they? You fascinate me with your craft.
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Mmmhmm! From my soul in this moment, in this tempo, just the two of us.
You said it yourself, the words matter, the timing matters, the emotion matters—it shapes sound and gives it life. Our mics represent us just as much as our speakers do...it's kinda hard to explain, but mine look like candy β.
no subject
Go ahead and open your eyes.
[So Ramuda can see him smiling, almost laughing.]
Sweets are delicious, naturellement... but dangerous in high doses. Tell me, mon petitβ what kind of sweet are you? The sort one can savor freely, or the kind that must be indulged in sparingly?
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Hmm...the kind that has a tang you don't expect! [ so maybe closer to the latter, though ramuda doesn't say that. what he does instead is lean in to pull lobelia into a kiss, all sweet. ]
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Unexpected surprises are the best kind, oui? I've always enjoyed being kept on my toes.
[Lift tends to grow dull otherwise.]
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[ ramuda's full of surprises. ]
I told you that I like you already, didn't I? I like you cause you're different than everybody else and that you're totally intense.
[ his type, the people who don't fit in anywhere else except among each other. ]
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[Lobelia doesn't sound offended, simply surprised... and pleasantly so, at that. He is an intense person, but it takes eyes capable of stripping back his polished exterior to see the chaos beneath to recognize that.]
That makes two of us, mon cher. Better than dispassionate and without joy, oui?
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there's a beat here in spite of ramuda's best efforts, because what lobelia said is a very casual thing to say and ramuda shouldn't put much stake in it. still- ]
I think so. But I know some people who think really differently, they just care about results. I think that's really boring, though.
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Oui... I have known a few of those types myself. They don't care for grand flourishes, or passion, or leaving a lasting impact... only numbers and data.
[Lobelia grins.]
We ought to be thankful we aren't that dull.
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