zauneyete | SYNFLUX INBOX

[ The winners of the festival have been announced and alas, it's not their team... But honestly, Tezcatlipoca wasn't expecting much there. Considering his impressions of the Brimstone team, teamwork didn't exactly seem up their alley. And there's no better example than the man who has been suspiciously absent (or so I assume). ]

hey bossman

[ the username may be weird but there's no mistaking who it is from the nickname ]

where you at. got a present for you

[ Yeah, thankfully, he knows exactly who it is, but it still takes a bit for him to respond.

Is he trying to figure out how to update his name first? Yes.

Did he figure it out? Absolutely not. ]

I know this may shock you, but I'm not exactly a social type. I am in my quarters.

[ A beat, and then: ]

I'm not really in the practice of accepting gifts, you know.

[ to be fair, you raise someone like jinx and not learn to be wary of the term: present. ]

how am I not surprised. omw

[ He's learning texting slang! ]

you're about to get in practice. you don't reject gifts from a god. besides, this one isn't anything as fancy as the chimalli I made you. just something I won at the festival and figured it'd be funny for you to have one.

[ and, if you thought it would go without comment, well: ]

nice username btw. they have a sense of humor huh

[ He was going to ask about what that meant, but no. No, Tezca had to mention the name. ]

I haven't found anything funny about it, if I can be honest. Perhaps you'll have to explain the joke.

[ He shouldn't ask for things he doesn't want to know ]

Though if it is from you... you have had an excellent track record thus far. I suppose I can accept.

hahaha

cuz the idea of anyone calling YOU "daddy" is hilarious

like do you even fuck

[ ok like. he's not totally out of it, there is a brothel right down the way but silco just assumed liith was commenting on his parenting skills. ]

I haven't made time for it in some time.

[ So. No?? ]

I didn't really think it had anything to do with that, anyway. Disgusting.

[ Silco says: no daddy kink allowed (no kinks allowed ]

[ to be fair to silco, it surely is, but to be fair to tezcatlipoca, silco is so tight-lipped about having a daughter that he has no idea... ]

yeah can't lie some of the modern kinks people have are really weird. like get your rocks off however, who cares, but the daddy thing... yeah, no

anyways, you should make time for it. relax, unwind, etc. got time for it here at least

what was your guess for it? I know mine is making fun of me for guns

It isn't a matter of time.

[ Well. You know. The whole Trust Issues (tm) is a big, glaring specter over anything Silco does. ]

But I will take your suggestion under advisement. [ Intending to do nothing with it, of course. Let's see if he eventually eats crow later. ]

As for the name...I assumed LILITH had decided to levy her opinion on the quality of my parenting.

[ It's fine if he talks around the insane codependent relationship he has with his daughter, right? Tezca doesn't know She exists, specifically. ]

Edited (Oop 3 finger typing error ) 2024-07-23 14:21 (UTC)

[ see, he'd love to continue to bother silco about his sex life. it's funny. however, that last little bit just throws it out the window ]

wait wait

you're ACTUALLY a dad??

I was.

[dont worry, tezca will now get the high honor of getting some of the tantrum when he finds out ✨ the future ✨]

hm. that's pretty mean-spirited then.

you've got my sympathies. can't say I know what it's like to be a parent, but that's still a loss that cuts deep.

[ And he leaves it at that. After all, this puts some of Silco into perspective for him, and he thinks it might explain some of the vicious bitterness in him. But he's not a god that coddles. Silco has to learn to live with that, in his opinion. ]

almost there, by the way. if you've got some kind of container, go ahead and grab it

[ what does THAT mean?? stay tuned and find out ♥ ]

[ He could respond, of course. Point out that he hadn't accepted it, that it wasn't a loss because he would fix it, because that had been the entire reason he had signed on with Zenith.

The reason why he'd fought as hard and as he had. The reason behind it all — even though there was a selfishness implied in his actions. There always was, and always would be. Selfishness wrapped in the guise of selflessness. ]

Hm.

[ But he'll have... a cup??? Ready??? ]

[ It's only a few minutes after that there's a brief knock at Silco's door followed by Tezcatlipoca just letting himself in. He's presumptuous, sure, but he also knew that Silco was expecting him, so. Can't be that big of a surprise, right?

Though what's more of a surprise is that Tezcatlipoca is still in his festival garb. A dark yukata with gold accents suits him in many ways, but it's still a much more modest way for him to present himself. He actually looks quite beautiful, if Silco had any indication to notice such things, but. It's also Tezcatlipoca, who presents himself in a very particular way. ]

Yo. Was thinkin' about it on the last part, but does this count as a housewarming gift? On account of us being neighbors and all.

[ He leans over to tap the wall he shares, then with a playful grin, finds the nearest place to sit or lean against. ]

Didn't feel like helpin' out, huh? Didn't see you at the festivities, anyways.

[ Silco's eyes only gave Tezca a cursory glance, brief in his flicker of attention, before he turned to close the door. In contrast, Silco is back in "normal" clothing — as close as he can get — not one to wear something even briefly that matched what he was used to.

The room, just like Silco, was pretty sparse and bereft of much, though they hadn't been there for long enough for him to accumulate...anything. Bed neat, no waste, no signs that it was occupied other than the ashtay Silco had started putting the stubs of his cigar into. Gross.

It did, unfortunately, reek slightly of cigar smoke. He's glad to leave the other topic lie. He doesn't want to Talk About It. ]

Housewarming, hm? [ He sat at the lone(ly) chair in the room, and pulled out another cigar. ] I suppose I'll have to find something for you in return.

Although... I decided to shirk as much as I could. I'm not the...personable type. Particularly when they want me to support their efforts to make things a touch more livable here. Especially when they could simply make it happen themselves.

[ Silco really was that kind of guy. ]

You can if you want, but don’t sweat it.

[ He’s truly not concerned about it, since this isn’t the kind of thing he feels needs to be reciprocal. A gift is a gift, but he knows that Silco doesn’t quite see the world that way. So, indeed, rather than get right to it, he responds to Silco first while he reaches up to pull his hair out of the styled bun and kanzashi he’d ended up with. He’s careful with the kanzashi, but not so much with pulling his hair back down. ]

Yeah, I get you, though. If they hadn’t had Brimstone’s deal be shooting stands, I would have been more pissed. Least that was fun for a while, but I ended up running off when it got boring. So, no wonder we didn’t win, but don’t exactly care about that competition. Set’ll be annoying as fuck about it, though.

[ He knows already… He clips the kanzashi onto the collar to hold them there, then runs his hand through his hair to comb it with one hand while he reaches into his sleeve with the other. ]

Anyways, was on a hot streak and thought of ya. Figured you’d need somethin’ to brighten your place up, and can see that I’m right.

[ And from his sleeve he pulls… a fish? At first glance, that might be startling, but seeing how the fish just leisurely tries to swim while Tezcatlipoca holds it by the fin, it’s clear it’s not real, exactly. He lets it go, and with a quiet whir of motors activating, it starts to fly/swim through the air.

Or: I realize he really is a cat that just brought him what he caught outside. help. ]

[ In silent acknowledgement, he nods at Tezca's statement, but there will be... who knows. something. Silco doesn't believe in gifts for no reason, but thankfully, since it's Tezca, there's an acknowledgement that there's an unusual arrangement here. Especially since well. He is his acolyte. ]

Is Set ever not annoying when it comes to victory?

[ To be fair. So is Silco. In his own way. ]

What is —

[ One eye blinks, and Silco looks at the thing.

He really does feel like he's just seen that old cat Singed used to keep (you know the one) bring a fresh "gift" back, and the way he stares at it, it really is what goes through his head. ]

Clearly, it's not a real fish.

[ Though, it's not his usual derision, it's almost curious. Silco isn't an inventor, but there's certainly always an odd interest in these sorts of things. His lips twitch, and he pokes at it, as it swims through the air. Jinx would have liked something like this, he thinks. Were... you know. ]

What gave it away?

[ He snickers as he retorts, but his attention drifts to the fish too as it works its way around Silco’s room. ]

They’re neat, right? Old tradition, apparently, but naturally back in the day they used to be the real thing. Kinda like these guys more though. No need to worry about a fishtank.

[ …Though if it were real, he probably would have eaten it. Secretly. Again, cat. ]

Got one for myself and was having fun with the game. Since you were missin’ out, brought you the souvenir. Stayin’ cooped up all the time ain’t good for ya.

Hm.

[ It's a non-committal grunt in response to pointing out that he shouldn't stay cooped up. Silco knew, of course, that it was probably a poor idea, and while he'd ventured out into the city plenty, he's taking his time with his fellow "outsiders". Though Tezca and Set had already drug him out to that miserable experience with "dating" (why) and he thought that was probably plenty of facetime with...

What were frankly an even bigger group of do-good types than he was used to. And he was used to a lot of them. ]

And what did you have to do to win this, that you found so fun? [ A twist of his lips. ]

I can't imagine most little games would be all that interesting to someone like you.

[ He again, nudged the fish as it tried to swim up against him.

Although... it was somewhat nostalgic for him. Not quite the massive creatures that lurked beneath the river where he was from, but... It's still a fish. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca laughs, since he can guess what Silco is imagining here, but that’s precisely what makes him laugh. ]

You don’t think?

[ He heads over to a chair and plops down, then fishes out his cigarettes and lighter from the sleeve. No need to ask with Silco, at least, and he flicks the lighter open as he continues. ]

Nothin’ like what you’re thinking. Game for kids. You get a net made of paper, try and scoop your new friend out. Easy as that.

[ The cigarette is lit, and after he takes a puff of it, he waggles it at Silco. ]

Sure, it’s not like toxcatl, but festival’s a festival. I’m interested to see cultural traditions. Doesn’t always have to be complicated.

I can imagine that this is far different than any festival you would have a hand in, certainly.

[ It's just fact. This whole thing was so... tame. Things like fireworks, stalls, games, Silco kept looking over his shoulder during the brief time he was there, as if he was waiting for reality to come crashing down, and the deception to make itself known. It was all so... wholesome. Where was the fleecing? The semi-poisonous foods that left someone who was trying to walk "on the dangerous side" sick?

Festivals were where crime ran rampant, to Silco. This felt like something the Pilties would have organized, to show off their superior moral status.

Someday, Silco is going to have to contend with the fact that nobody else lives like him.

That's not happening now. ]

The game sounds... interesting. [ (derogatory) ]

What was your Toxcatl like, then? If it is vastly different, I'm curious.

Of course it is. It was my festival, so you can use your imagination for what celebrates yours truly.

[ He chuckles as he takes another drag of the cigarette, then leans his head back to rest on the top of the chair. When he breathes the smoke out through his nose, it’s not cigarette smoke. It’s a darker, more fragrant smoke that smells of copal. It’s a little showy, but there’s a meaning in it that’s not necessarily meant for Silco, who doesn’t understand the ritual of his culture. It’s just what feels right for telling the story of the festival, as if setting the stage. ]

We can get into the theology of it if you’re interested, but for the quicker version, just know that it’s a ritual just as much as a festival, so there’s meaning in the proceedings. See, each year, there was a guy that was designated as the teixiptla—someone meant to represent and impersonate me, and it was a position of reverence. Even though they were generally a captive of war, it was a desirable position, because for a year, you lived like a king. Education, pleasure, all you could want, you were given, since naturally if I were there, my people would give all they had to please me. So it was for the teixiptla.

The year comes to an end Toxcatl. It’s a month-long celebration with dancing, feasts, art, ritual. The gifts of Tezcatlipoca are given to all people. Prosperity is a gift from the gods, but gifts don’t come freely, even for us.

[ That’s the basic background, so as he gets to the climax of the festival, he sits up again and looks at Silco. It’s that intense gaze again that’s arresting even behind his sunglasses. ]

So, the teixiptla is sacrificed to me. Their year comes to an end violently, since on the top of the city’s temple, the priests skillfully remove his heart while it still beats. Their heart is my offering, and a strong warrior who doesn’t cry out is welcomed quickly to paradise. And as for the rest… Well, they’re beheaded so their skull can join all their predecessors in the position, and their flesh is flayed and eaten by the nobility. They eat the body of the chosen “god”, since nothing goes to waste. And then, the next year’s teixiptla is chosen.

[ So. Extremely different from this festival indeed. Tezcatlipoca smiles, sharp and challenging, and he leans forward a little. ]

—Actually. Me and Set were playin’ with some of what these can do. [ He taps the side of his head to refer to the implants. ] Kinda like Communion, if you know how to tweak the settings. So. You wanna see what Toxcatl is like in “person”?

[ He clears his throat, an itch in his lungs at the scent of the copal, itching and rubbing against his eternally over-taxed lungs, the seat of a cough that he covered by lighting a cigar that he fished out of his jacket, and inhaled on reflexively. The drama of it, he could appreciate, and as he listened to the tale of it, of someone given everything they could ever want, only to die after a year...

He can appreciate it. The ritual of it, the religious aspect, he doesn't really understand o4r have much interest in, but he can enjoy the dramatic irony of it. If only everyone who was given whatever they wanted could live only a year. what would they do with it? Become slaves to their own desires? Would they only be able to live for the moment?

Would they watch the days tick by, and feel the anticipation of their lives winding through the hourglass? Watching each grain trickle out? Watch the remaining time with the certainty that it would not last?

He knew a little bit what that was like, after all, once he had realized what his deal with the demon had meant, in Kenos. He remembered each day, feeling that anticipatory fear, feeling the sickening realization that he would not live to see the results of his fight, his efforts. Was it better, or worse, that it was a captive of war? The alternative for them, he expected, would be death or servitude. It's what he would do.

His lips curled, even reflecting on his own experience. After all, he wasn't here with Sebastian, he was here with Tezca. ]

Really? Is it similar to the ritual I saw you perform?

[ He asked, and his tone was curious. ] I would enjoy seeing it. I can imagine, but... the imagination tends to run away, doesn't it?

For removing the heart, yep. Identical. Well, mostly, since I’m going to be more skilled at it than any human, but…

[ He trails off, and with a flicker of light in his eye, a prompt appears for Silco: LAUNCH DATAVERSE? ]

I’m guess in’ your imagination of it is different, yeah. So, let’s go back to Tenochtitlan. I’ll even toss in showing you my real face so you and Set can be even.

Edited 2024-08-02 13:32 (UTC)

[ His lips twitch, as he figures out how to open this. He's not fast, but... it's not with the quickness of someone natural with technology. It takes him a few moments, but he does figure it out. ~~One does not raise Jinx without learning some things.~~ ]

Your real face, hm? I think you mentioned that this wasn't really "you" before, hm?

[ if it didn't happen in a thread, we'll say it did. ]

At least Set won't have something to crow about.

[ and then, the ~~meta~~dataverse opens, and Silco looks... like himself predictably. Probably overdressed for whatever surroundings Tezca has come up with. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca doesn’t answer, though it’s mostly because he has to fiddle with the technology too. It’s more difficult on his end since he’s hosting, but it doesn’t take too long.

Silco is suddenly surrounded by sunshine and humidity as a city springs up around him. However, it’s like none he’s ever seen, because this is the ancient city that was the seat of the Aztec empire. The city is bustling at the foot of a grand temple, filled with people dancing, offering food from stalls, and generally waiting with excitement as they expect someone to come down the street. It’s all the normal markers of a celebration, save for the morbid structure behind them at the temple: spikes that all bear human skulls.

And from behind Silco: ]

Welcome to Tenochtitlan, bossman.

[ The voice is largely the same, just accented differently with the poetry of Nahuatl. But he truly couldn’t look more different. Tezcatlipoca stands with his hands on his hips, dressed in the regalia that Silco had seen for his gift, but his skin is largely covered in black paint now. The only exception are the stripes of richly warm skin left free from paint, including his still piercing blue eyes. ]

[ He isn't really quite sure what he expected, when he turned to look at Tezca, his eyes slowed because there was so much to take in, and Silco wasn't used to places that looked so... different? Yes, he had seen plenty in Kenos and beyond, but... there's something to be said for the... lush brutality of this place. The small details, the knowledge that there is a death coming, the way the city hums in celebration, the dress of the people, the skulls on spikes...

It's all different.

And not necessarily in a bad way.

Though when he finds Tezca, his eyes do make a doubletake, flicking up and down the man, before repeating, and then a single eye blinks. ]

Not what I expected.

[ He said, and it's not necessarily clear if he means Tezca or the city. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca appreciates the reaction, and he in fact watches it intently. He hadn’t used Communion this way, because it really hadn’t occurred to him. Unlike Quetzalcoatl, his interest was always in the present and the future. Looking back just wasn’t something he thought to do naturally, so this was only because Set had asked about it.

…But, he still feels a sense of pride for the beautiful city and its people. It’s an experience that’s priceless, because this is a place that truly only exists in the memories of the gods now. It could be somber for the loss of it, but that’s just not Tezcatlipoca’s way. ]

Even after meetin’ Quetzalcoatl? From what I heard, her manifestation was way more tied to this era.

[ He chuckles, knowing just mentioning his brother has a chance of setting Silco off, so he claps a hand on his shoulder and directs him through the crowd. It’s a strange experience, since none of the people seem to acknowledge them, but they move smoothly through it like the people just subconsciously part for them. That’s the power that Tezcatlipoca represents and can exert upon the world in his full divinity. ]

…Actually.

[ A thought occurs to him, and from the tone of that “actually”, it’s clear that this is a question that’s loaded. Maybe it’s a test. Or maybe he’s just curious. It’s hard to tell with Tezcatlipoca. ]

Your city, the place you’re from. Let’s say it was in danger. Someone comin’ in to try and change everything about it. What would you do?

I didn't pay that much attention to her.

[ He lied. He did, but he had never really thought about the world she came from, and what it would be like. Certainly, there was a way of their dress that he could see matched with her, and there is the way they talk, the voices that filter in and out that remind him of Quetzalcoatl, but anything else? He'd never thought about, because where she came from didn't matter like that. Once she was gone, after all, it would never come back.

He almost continued, feeling that old surge of resentment and hate blistering at the edges, like a fire ready to blaze, but —

Tezca askes something that redirects that fire, more than squashes it. ]

That is our every day, Tezca. They want to turn us into meek automatons, only good enough to mine their minerals for their prosperity, to die early deaths in the mines, and never make a peep of protest. We are at a war that they do not know that we are fighting, because they are happy to ignore us, pretend that we're nothing but criminals and scavengers who will never actualize enough power to stand for ourselves.

[ If Tezca didn't know how Silco would react, well. He's learning now. ]

We fight, ever day. They want us meek and quiet, we do the opposite. We rage against it. The change we want is the one we choose, not what they force down our throats like the gray filth they've poured into our air and river.

[ It’s a little puzzle piece fitting together about who Silco is as a person, but his expression stays calm and neutral. He only shows a benevolent, enigmatic smile that doesn’t betray his own thoughts. Silco would be sure to hate them, besides, since it’s similar to how Quetzalcoatl had viewed Silco upon learning this about him. No wonder he is the way he is, and Tezcatlipoca does feel a twinge of pity for that.

However, unlike his brother, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t warmly desire a world without strife. It may be sad, but that’s the way of things. These bad things are sharp catalysts, as Silco himself represents. ]

Mm, that’s essentially what I saw, but it’s different to hear it from you. You’re the one that lived it, after all.

[ It almost feels like he might leave it at that, but after a pause, he starts to walk towards one of the makeshift stalls that’s set up along the main street leading to the temple, and he nods for Silco to follow. ]

See, I ask because this city is fated to lose that fight. All my people will. Men came from across the sea and found our civilization, and they’ll destroy it. Today, a man will be sacrificed in my name. Tomorrow, the Spanish will massacre everyone gathered in that temple. This civilization will become a curious footnote because they’ll lose.

[ Tezcatlipoca relays it coolly, without the emotion that would be expected from Quetzalcoatl, though that’s not surprising. She’s passion and heat, and he’s the much cooler, more clever brother. But it’s because he’d always seen this end coming. Still, though.

The stand he gravitates towards is one where little bundles of golden flowers are made, and he picks one up. It seems that the gesture is what reveals him to the man working the stand, because his eyes immediately go wide, and his faces blanches. But Tezcatlipoca simply puts his fingers to his lips with a smile, and as he steps away, he exhales a dark smoke from his nose that seems to return him to imperceptible as the man immediately starts to pray. ]

…They’ll still fight it, though. Their descendants will fight it too. It’ll take time, centuries, but eventually, they’ll be free. They might not worship the same gods or even speak the same language, but they’ll be able to walk their own path once again.

[ He breaks the bundle in two, keeping half for himself, but offering the others for Silco. ]

Hold onto these. Might not be real, exactly, but they’re my gift to your resolve. We call them cempasúchil. They’re the flower that guides the soul home, even through a long journey. Feel like your revolution is gonna be one of those, yeah?

[ Silco watches, as he moves to the stall, watches the man's eyes widen in recognition, the sheer emotion on his face — reverence and fear all in one — makes a shiver go down Silco's spine. He had seen that look many times now, often when faced with people like Tezca, or Set, but even others when they were in the last world. When faced with the truly powerful, there was no mistaking that look.

Silco had enjoyed it. When they looked at him like that. He missed it, even if he wouldn't voice it.

His fingers wrapped around the flowers, almost instinctive, before he lowered them to his side. ]

What could they do but fight?

[ He asks, but he understands. How could he not? ]

My revolution already was. [ He says, as they continue. ] When I was just a boy, I learned well enough that power is all that topsiders — or your people across the sea — will listen to. Anything short of it, compassion or compliance do nothing more than stay their hand while they still sneak cruelty upon cruelty on us. It is better to die fighting, than it is to become cowed.

[ He reached up, and tapped his fingers to the scar over his eye. ]

I received this from an Enforcer, when we tried to gain our independence when I was a boy. I survived only because my compatriots lost their nerve for the fight. They backed off.

[ His lips twitch, as he looks at those individuals walking past. Knowing that they would die tomorrow doesn't make him feel pity, it makes him angry. He hoped they took their equal share, and then some, but he knows. He knows that slaughters like this go only one way. ]

I wouldn't, and thus, they attempted to cull me.

[ He looked at Tezca, for only a moment. ] I hope they never lose their will to fight, and betray their cohort.

[ By comparison, Tezcatlipoca is careful with the flowers. He tucks them into the beads decorating the regalia across his chest. It’s a tender gesture that contrasts sharply with Silco’s bitter, vicious words, but he’s listening seriously. ]

Don’t disagree. Can’t exactly play the what ifs game in my case, though. I gotta admit, the Spanish had better weaponry, but would have been nice to see more vicious fighting before it was too late. The tide turned quickly, since unfortunately, the king made the wrong choice.

[ He saves one flower and twirls it in his fingers, then steps closer to tuck it into the lapel of Silco’s vest. The contact means that what he says has more gravity, because he fixes that sharp, intense, but ultimately unknowable gaze on Silco’s hardened one. This feels like a test, but what he’s testing isn’t at all clear. ]

You and I met for a reason, Silco. When you finally kick the bucket, I think you’ll be coming to visit my afterlife, at least if I have any say about it. And remember: that’s not an if, that’s a when. Make sure to die in a way that honors your convictions.

[ He draws his hands away from that flower, and though he doesn’t explain the significance, it’s a large one indeed. That’s cempasúchil, the marigold that guides the soul home. He doesn’t actually know, since the mysteries of different worlds are fuzzy even to him, but he at least feels that if there’s any way for him to stake such a claim? Silco’s soul is surely “his” to look out for. ]

So, when this is all said and done, assuming you aren’t tossed into another adventure… What’re you gonna take away from it? Bring back home?

Don't worry, I don't intend to do anything but.

[ lol
lmao

We all know how that will work out, but perhaps if he does see Tezca's afterlife, it won't be quite as disappointing as going out any other way will for the man.

He, oddly, doesn't flinch away from tucking the flower into his lapel, only looks down at it for a moment, watches him do it, and then watches him move away. It's just a flower, but... something about it feels more Important. Maybe it's the way Tezca did it, or the fact that he picked it out. His lips twitch, but he doesn't remove it. He leaves it there. ]

Conviction. Plans. [ He finally answered, after a long moment of consideration. ] Experience, perhaps. Knowledge from all of these beings that I've encountered [ and some he has killed ] because it means whatever they can throw at us, we can be better.

When they last crushed us, I was but a boy. Even before, when I left, I feel like I was by now. I've learned a great deal about how little power they have.

so. to be clear I usually don't do this. make sure to value it properly.

but sorry about the whole trying to kill you thing

[ he's so mad he almost just expects to see tezca try to kill him again so getting a text — even at a delay is a surprise.

He's even taken to not sleeping to avoid him and Set bc... well. He's stupid and paranoid. Which is also why the reply comes off as somewhat flippant and snide. Because it's Silco. ]

I thought one of the trials you always talk about would come with a speech...and be something I hadn't experienced before.

correct. they're SUPPOSED to so don't worry that definitely wasn't one of them

or not an intentional one anyways. guess it ain't a bad one for your reflexes but that's not exactly the lesson I'm trying to impart to you

[ what is the lesson? don't worry about it ]

just turns out I got more of a response from the forest lord than I thought. figured they were anti human sacrifice but think it's more like they want the outsiders. wasn't exactly my rational thoughts in control there

so set and I are in the barn now

I feel like a kid in time out

[ That wasn't the lesson he was trying to teach him??? What???

Man Tezca you can't say shit like that, Silco's already keyed up and inconsolably mad and like two of the only people he would have ranted about it to are in a barn and one of them caused it!

So this takes a bit for him to smoke a cigar, and wind down, and actually process it. To be fair, other than a cut on his thigh, he's alright for the most part. He'd dressed it already, but there's something about the shock of feeling betrayed that always leaves Silco more frazzled. Once he'd realized that he was alone, he'd locked and barricaded his door.

And now he feels just a little bit foolish. ]

It sounds like you need it.

So the Forest Lord did it. I wondered if all of my irreverence upset it, too. Given that you seemed to go right for me of all people.

Or maybe it was just chance, and I'm reading something into it. Quite possibly, but perhaps it should not be surprising that I am jumping at shadows. Set could tell you the significance of what happened, I suspect.

Have the... urges subsided yet?

maybe. couldn't tell you, annoyingly. just felt like a switch was flipped that went "hey maybe offering up this guy next to me would work" then wore off after you and that kid got out of there

but considering I tried to take a chunk out of laios's finger later, kind of inclined to think it was chance... doesn't seem like the urge is all that discriminatory on who

so. nah. hasn't gone away.

Oh, great. So the two of you are quarantined for the foreseeable future, then?

[ Though, that does beg the question... ]

It sounds like this Forest Lord doesn't want to be located, doesn't it? Maybe it fears being discovered, and is lashing out in order to evade us getting too close. It might not have even anticipated it.

Which leaves us spinning our wheels even longer.

yeah. seems like it. extra fucking annoying because I definitely saw the fucking thing but it also made sure to zap that memory. which apparently it can do

being optimistic, I'd take it to mean it doesn't feel like it'd fare well in a fight against us

but since I'm a pessimist, could just as much mean that it's just smart enough to manage its resources better. thinned out the ranks and now turn us on each other. that's efficient I have to say

I don't really care for the second option, but if it isn't a god like I think it isn't, that would be far more likely than the opposite, wouldn't it?

Gods, no offense, in my experience are sometimes a bit too full of themselves to cover their tracks. More interested in spreading awe.

Though, considering who was knocking, perhaps they did because it was you two, specifically?

in terms of tactics yeah. but from what I've looked into, that'd also be a new thing for a kaiju. they've been more like animals before. if this one's smarter, that's not a good omen in the grand scheme of things

but therefore couldn't tell you its intentions either. wasn't keen on chatting regardless

not that its intentions matter to me too much have to say. whether it's intelligent or just a lucky beast? I'll flay it for crossing me

Of course it wasn't. It may be more intelligent, or it may be directed, who knows. What we do know is that its probably feeling threatened, given that we're likely to interfere with its source of... adoration if not food.

I wonder if it will be surprised when you flay it. I hope I am there to watch it happen. Perhaps even help, if the opportunity is there.

I assume that's the case, considering the "slap" we got for killing one of their villagers. and honestly? if the consequences weren't annoying, I'd say thinning its ranks would be a good way to force it out

but won't do us any good if we just turn on each other. so scratched that plan off. hooray for the moral outsiders I guess

anyways. I'm sure you'll be able to watch unless you kick the bucket or something like that. wouldn't turn down the help either

I don't disagree. I wonder if there is a subtler way of eliminating the villagers? Poison, perhaps? Something with a little bit less obvious culprit?

Not that I think it's worthwhile, if it can just lash out so easily.

We'll see about the help, though. I suppose it depends on the size of this one. Maybe if it's a bit smaller, I won't risk getting crushed under its feet.

[ We both know his version of help is pretty useless ~~until he gets a fun tool~~ ]

[It may only be a feq days, but it feels like he's lived through five years and a half. And on top of it all? First world problems. He's still a vampire.]

[Which of course means Silco is still a vampire, too. Which means he's still dealing with the downsides as much as the outsides. The petty part of him asks to leave him be - hasn't Silco caused enough problems already? He didn't want to be this way. Maybe it now fits with his general appearance, his eyes...]

[Whatever. He's here now, a moth landing on the edge of a candleholder. He knows exactly why he can't help but dip his toes into the river of self-destruction.]

[There's no one he hates more than himself, after all.]

[He raps his knuckles on the door. He's still sore, wounded. aching, but he ignores it like he always has.]

Are you dead in there, Silco? Good to know if you are.

[ Silco, in contrast, is dealing with a vampire as well as one could under LILITH's watch, sneaking out and into the dark alleys of Neo Tokyo and taking what was required. It was an old habit, one that felt familiar and good, like before. Running a streak of blood through the desperate and hungry, he barely spent an hour's hesitation before he took.

Not right now, though. Right now he's poised in a seat, pressing a metal device to the space around his eye, about to --

He doesn't jump, for this is not something to feel guilty about when there's a knock at the door; but he does pause and let the small metal gun with a vial of neon liquid drop, and he placed it back on his table for later, where it rests with three other vials all neatly arranged in a line, a dull glow in the dim room.

The door slid open, and Silco looked him up and down for a long moment. As if taking stock of his injuries -- looking for the ones he left, more than others.]

Perish the thought. I'd do better than go out quietly in my sleep.

[ His lip curls with some kind of confidence that sparked to life, despite his last warning. Perhaps he was a fool, but he wouldn't snuff him out now that the opportunity has passed, would he? Silco's neck is still riddled with bite marks and bruising, but he does little more than to shift, crossing his arms to lean against the door frame. ]

Was that hope I heard in your voice, just now?

[ maybe it's serious, maybe it's teasing. He cannot help but chip away at that ice and see what flakes off -- what lurks underneath. Even now when he knows what the consequences are, he continues. Vergilius should have known, coming by. The river is deep, and there's plenty of it to drown in, and oh is he an expert in drowning. ]

[There's the man of the hour. At this point, Silco may be disappointed - sure, Vergilius is a beast of burden baring his scars with no need to hide them, but he's definitely got himself bandaged. One can see a slip of white peeking from out under his collar, and a plastered piece of gauze on his neck. However, the man may be pleased to see he's absolutely favoring the leg which wasn't stabbed as he stands here, hands in his pockets. Thanks, Silco.]

[The possible(?) tease only makes him grimace, red eyes flitting up and down the other before landing squarely on that scarred face once more.]

I'd lose respect for you if you did. [And a beat - why IS he here? Shouldn't he leave well enough alone? These teeth are aggravating. The hunger, more so.] And you're hearing things. I just wanted to check in. If you died, you died. That's the way of the City, you know. You move on.

[ It's disappointing, but Vergilius is a practical man, isn't he? Silco is as well, but Vampirism draws out a certain brashness and lack of practicality than he'd had before. They aren't seeping wounds, at least, but then again, the man is well used to open wounds, isn't he? That scar on his face only looks like it has new companions, littered on his neck. ]

Oh, well, we can't have that.

[ As if he hadn't tanked what little respect there was between them already, right? Silco was a vile little man, and he had done so little to hide it, but there had not been very many opportunities for the man that had existed in that previous world to emerge. A violent, mean creature, uninterested in making allies, derided by those who worked with him — hated by those fighting against him; and that was before he'd blotted out the sun with a squeeze of his hand.

This was not quite to that scale; he did not know if this world would allow for it, but... perhaps a bit of that ruthlessness had slipped from the cage.

To prove a point? Perhaps to show him just who he was before he was drug too deep into the depths. Yet, here he was. Checking in on him. ]

That is how it is in Zaun, as well. We learn to accept death early; but some of us learn to fight it, and it is an old shadow, right on our heels.

I've grown used to seeing death, even if it's never quite stuck. [ A smile, now. It actually stays on his lips. It only stayed when he spoke of unpleasant things. ] To the disappointment of many.

[Silco had smiled then too, with his blood on his lips. He had himself a feast back there, didn't he? The worst of him, brought out on a silver platter.]

[Does the man want to eat of such a rotten mess again? Signs point to yes. He knew already that Silco held a certain ugliness at his core, understandable and frightening. They resonated that way.]

[....Why is he here? What does this do for him? Is there a sense of relief in that Silco is doing well? Better than well?]

[Or did he, too, also want to come rub salt in the wounds]

I'm sure. And here you are, the fool taunting a Color like me. How strong is that self-preservation instinct, anyways? That knife was as useless as a toothpick.

Was it?

[ Mismatched gaze drug to the way he favored one leg. ] I'll make sure to aim for something more damaging next time, hm? I didn't want to harm you permanently, after all.

Besides... [ He stares at him, unblinking eye like a black hole, focused on the man's faces, the scars there, the red gaze. It's always hard to remember that Silco has two eyes, when one draws attention like this, a dark thing, swallowing up all the light. Except for the pinprick of violent emotion at the center. Burning everything it consumes. ]

Aren't you the one who recognized that I'm just as capable without brute strength? Are we changing that narrative?

[ Was he here just to taunt him? Or was this something else? Had the man finally started to understand something? That he wanted someone to poke and prod at those nasty little weaknesses, and reveal them? Encourage him to snap and lash out? Silco believed that monsters should be let out, drug to the surface and unleashed, lest they become tame, weak things. That's what leashing them did. Holding back. ]

Aw. You're so nice. After turning me into a vampire and all.

[The condescension drips from his lips, but its not like he's turning on his heel and walking away, either. In his world, the Bloodfiends and their creations had a certain relationship - the kindred serving the ones who made them what they are.]

[It leaves a mildly bad taste in his mouth. He chooses to ignore it, staring at that dark hole of an eye.]

[It means to suck him in.]

Oh, you are. The narrative is still the same, Silco. And I will admit, you got the drop on me.

[But? But....]

What happens now? Have you had your fun with me? I almost feel like you always thirst for more.

[ There's a moment where he just... Stares at him. The weight of both of his eyes on Vergilius is enough to feel like that gravitational tug intensifies. It's heavy with implication. He doesn't even need to ask -- was it only me who did this? -- they both know Silco hadn't shoved his own blood down his throat.

Would he have, though? It's possible, he cannot say that it was something he'd considered, the moment a haze of blood rushing in his ears, hunger, and annoyance for once again being called weak.

His lips twitched, whether it was a smile or a grimace, it wasn't clear. ]

Did you think that was just for the fun of it? [ He moves from the doorframe, deeper in the dim room. ] It was to prove a point.

[ What point was that? Why, that he was worthy of respect, that he was a threat. That he wasn't just a pathetic blood starved fiend or a weak man withering behind muscle. No, he wanted Vergilius to understand that, before he thought him a fool. Perhaps it had all been foolish -- much of the encounter was -- but...

Well. He didn't think on it with distaste. Vergilius is right, he always thirsts for more, more respect, more power, more -- ]

So no, we aren't done, yet. I don't think we've finished that pact, have we?

[ Instinctively, his fingers reach for his throat, but he paused, halfway there. ] I certainly still don't fully understand you. Isn't that what you wanted?

Mm.

[Of course it was. Silco doesn't just want to use his words. He'll use whatever he has at his disposal. Tooth and nail, hand and claw.]

And you feel like you've made your argument.

[Whether he agrees with it isn't clear. Either way, it pisses him off. In a way, it doesn't.]

[Silco recedes, Vergilius moves forward. Just a step. As if to broach the threshold, but he doesn't. A vampire needs to be invited in, after all. His large frame fills the doorframe, his posture slouched, eyes sunken.]

We haven't. You do still want it, do you? [His eyes flit, traitors, to the man's throat. He swears he can almost taste the man's blood. How sweet it was, at first.] Or have you changed your mind?

I do not change my mind often.

[ Silco was a stubborn man, vicious and willing to make any decision necessary, but once he did... That was, of course, why he often found himself at odds, wasn't it? Stubborn, never letting things go, revenge a fire that burned hot and undenfing. He remembered -- Fingers on his throat, squeezing tight --

He looked at him, watched him stop at the threshhold, and realized why only after a long, long moment. Unblinking stare in the dim light, Vergilius might feel the weight of it, that stare. He often forgets about the downsides, given that he had been in a place where they so often didn't matter. He wonders how long he would stand out there, staring in, leaving business for anyone who walked by to see. ]

I don't make a habit of open-door negotiations, and I do not intend to start now. [ He wondered if he left it at that, if he would still be stopped still. ]

So close the door if you're coming in.

[And so, the invitation is given. Vergilius moves like a colossus - a heavy, worn thing who has experienced more wear and tear than he perhaps deserves. He would argue himself he deserved it all. He deserved more.]

[Is this a good decision? No. But he moves, anyways.]

[He shifts inside, closes the door quietly, and moves into the room. He casts his gaze around, before - his eyes pause on something. A little gun-like device on the table. He points to it with a low grunt.]

What is that?

[ The room is simple, and small. It fits Silco just fine, but with Vergilius in here, it suddenly feels crowded. Like there isn't enough space, and he's used to more cramped places than this, but he's also been acclimated to larger. He isn't used to sharing tight quarters with others. ]

Oh, that? Medication.

[ Of a sort. His personal shimmer variant. He tapped the skin beneath his eye, and even in the dim light it's hard to miss the needle poking out of the brass housing. It's easy to imagine how it's applied.

Without violence forcing honesty... It was difficult to know where to start. He looked at him for another moment that seemed to stretch out, before finally: ]

As for the argument, do you feel so lessened by what happened? I know how...little you think of them -- us. Do you still think that? Is control difficult to come by?

[ He asks, knowing he has done little to corral his own hunger.]

[He hovers over the table - not touching the device, no, he's polite enough for that - but he's frowning mildly when he looks over at Silco gesturing to his own eye. Huh. He didn't think that the eye was a problem, maybe something more aesthetic. Then again, that scar couldn't have come from nowhere. Still shows there's much to learn about the man.]

It bothers you? Your eye.

[And then, after a moment, comes the question. His own gaze drifts, fixes on some spot in the wall.]

....I don't look down on vampires, you know. Bloodfiends. No, those at home are....quite intelligent. These are pale imitations. Mindless beasts.

[A pause, almost certainly awkward.]

I feel lessened by you taking the choice from me forcefully. Without my consent. It isn't...actually about the hunger.

[He doesn't talk about the control.]

[ Silco's eyes looked to the side, before: ]

Yes. It's not exactly healed over, if you haven't noticed.

[ Stringy and vicious, like an open wound. He covers it, sure, but Vergilius has seen the make up streaked off, or missing. Just recently, he's been up close to it, hasn't he? ]

Ah, yes, apologies that I didn't stop you from biting me. It wasn't the expected response.

[ his lips twitch in dim light, and he looked him up and down. ]

You could have just stopped me. Maybe suffered a bite, but...

Why didn't you? If I'm to blame for your woes, perhaps you should enlighten me as to why.

[ Now, he does sit, crossed a slim ankle over his knee. Relaxed, or feigned relaxation. It's bold, sitting when he's so much taller, a subtle, unspoken message of his lack of fear. ]

Will it ever? Heal, I mean.

[Or maybe it will not, given that Silco has to dose himself with medication. He wonders what it would be like untreated. Would that blackness consume into him further? Would it eat away at flesh? Would it rot the skin off his body?]

[The man moves to sit, languid and smooth as a cat. He turns to face him, now, a little twitch of displeasure in his stern features.]

I didn't think you were in your right mind. Perhaps you were thralled. Now I know I was wrong. Should have popped your head off from the beginning.

No. It won't heal.

[ He only watches him with that unblinking gaze, as if to ask: what do you think?

He doesn't need to elaborate, he thinks he can imagine, what would happen, were he to stop whatever it was that worked to keep the toxins from chewing away at his nervous system and at the remaining flesh there. It had gotten worse, over the years. Starting as am infected cut, until it kept consuming more and more of him.

No, it's easy to guess, and his imagination isn't likely far from the truth.

His eyes still follow him, watching him sit, move like he's some predator invading in his space.]

But you didn't. Nor did you after.

[ He started fishing for a cigar, patting at his vest. ] You could have pulled me off, too. I think you could handle the injury.

No, I think you wanted to hurt me only just enough.

Then it backfired.

[ As if he hadn't done the same in return.]

I see.

[So it's like that, huh. How painful must it be, especially with such drastic an application? If the man has to subsist on such suffering, it adds to the reasoning about why he is the way he is. Silco truly is a man molded by his circumstances.]

[Vergilius steps closer. He is a predator. Is Silco a bigger one? Hard to say. He would maybe bite down on an inch of pride to say that he shouldn't be. If anything, they're simply predators of different echelons, environments, meeting in a common field.]

...Backfired in what way, in your opinion? My bites? The way I choked you?

[My kiss?]

[He doesn't say it. But it hangs in the air, like a ghost yet to be acknowledged.]

Hm.

[ He responds. It's difficult to say at first if that's all he's going to say.

He's quiet, even, which Silco rarely is. The man is quick to speak up and share his (clearly superior)(no) opinions, and hardly can halt himself from doing so when his ire is raised. That eye, too, staring, doesn't really offer much, glowing like it does, the only emotion of seems to carry is hate, and anger. In silence, it seems ineffective. Lacking. ]

Your bites were certainly unexpected. I hadn't thought you would fight back with such... Ferocity.

[ He places the cigar in his mouth, and out comes the lighter. At least he still has one vice. His next words come smoke infused. The small room feels smaller, the way the air is heavy with cigar smoke already.]

None of what you did was expected.

[ That was closer. ]

Oh?

[To all of that. He can't help it really, tilt his head, let his bangs shift, a little more of his eerie gaze peek out from behind his bangs. The smoke tickles his nose, and he sniffs, but he doesn't cough or wheeze. Or even breathe, really.]

Weren't you taunting me into that? Or did you just expect me to lay pretty for you, Silco?

[He feels like they're dancing around a topic, here, like a tongue to briefly lick and taste something uncertain. He wants to see if Silco, too, will have a taste.]

[ He meets that gaze, unblinking, shrouded though it still was by bangs, like he was trying to hide it, whereas Silco's was always undiluted, and open. It's a little bit like challenging it, as he understands that his gaze is something of note, wasn't it? His title, too, carried the weight of his unblinking eye, so perhaps it was more like he matched him, one for one. ]

I expected nothing less than a fight. If I wanted someone to take it, I would have chosen someone more weak-willed.

[ That kind of fight, though? A twitch of a smile formed around the cigar between his lips, while he puffed on it, before he pulled it out, to speak, letting it dangle idly from his fingers. ]

Did you think I was goading you on?

[ He asked, leaning forward. Is he goading now? He hadn't — really thought all that far ahead, had he? For being such a planner, someone who liked to have everything meticulously arranged and sorted, Vergilius had already made a habit of acting outside of what he expected or planned for, then again, how much was he actually planning? ]

[More weak-willed, huh. Should he be honored? The great Silco, putting his black-eyed sight on him. See, there always was this thing people could rarely do. Look him in the eye.]

[Silco stares as if he means to pierce him through and through. As if his gaze should be held by him alone.

[It must be the latent hunger he now has to live with, scratching on the inside of his ribcage. He has half a mind to cross the distance, dig teeth in, and worry that mouth like a dog with a bone. He resists it, for now, but the twitch of his lips around ill-fitting fangs perhaps betrays it.]

You could have pulled away. Stabbed me earlier for good measure. And yet you didn't.

[A rattling sort of laugh, as he shifts on his feet here.]

Did you want to goad me on? Would it have been so terrible if you did?

[ That eye does not miss the way his mouth seems to move around fangs, he lingers there for only a split second, watching the way his lips move around fangs that are ill-adjsuted to human mouths, before he looked back at his solid gaze, just as bright as his own. It's like drowning in a sea of blood, when he stares at him. He cannot say that he minds that. He's drowned in far worse, hasn't he? ]

I could have, but can you blame a man for his curiosity?

[ Was that all it was? Curiosity? Was it curiosity that drove him to sink his fangs into him, or allow him the upper hand? That allowed him to bite back, and keep biting back? Or worse? When had he stopped him? When his hand had closed around his neck, a twisted mockery of too-manty times when a different person's hand had tightened around his neck, with the intention to kill, where Vergilius had...

Had he been trying to kill him? Truly? He did not think Vergilius was so toothless to only threaten what he would not do. ]

What if I did? [ From a side table, he brings out a knife, a familiar one, though the blade is folded. ] Who said I had stopped?

[ He'd plunged that knife into his flesh, but would he have stopped him, if he'd — done that again? ]

Curious? About what? About how far I would go?

[About how much he should be pushed? Isn't that idiocy? Silco is not someone who could ever be anywhere near an idiot. And yet...and yet....he keeps thrusting that spindly little hand in the bars of the lion cage. He bears a knife as if that would provide even the slightest mote of protection.]

[And yet, this is a man who has bested a beast in one aspect. Who toyed with him enough until he bared his teeth.]

[Vergilius steps closer, now, shoulders hunching up more. He's always never had the best posture in the world.]

[The knife is laughable. So he laughs. A hard, gruff little ha-ha.]

...Put that away. If you really didn't want to stop, act with your hands, and your hands alone. Not pathetic tools. Unless you feel scared enough to hide behind it?

About what nature of beast lurks beneath your skin, of course.

[ He says it like it should be so obvious, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Silco respected power, he always had, but the manner of the type of power was always in question. When pushed into a corner, how did the beast react? When confronted with betrayal, or bloodshed, did the beast shirk away and hide in a corner, or seek out those with more power, or did they lash out, and excise the problem personally?

Silco was not a foolish man, but around such things, he so often lost his head in pursuit of power. He had no freedom to help buy for the people here, or product to peddle. He needed something else to pay for loyalty, because he has nothing else to supply. He wants to see this beast out of its cage — ideally with his hand at the leash — because there's something in the man that makes him hold back. Show restraint.

What is that that makes him pull back? Why is it that he hadn't crushed his head like a too-ripe fruit plucked from the refuse? What does he want out of this?

They'd sat on and talked about ending a world once; an opportunity Silco had held in his hands, and tried to cultivate for two years, fighting everything and everyone to ensure it happened, maddened by the one little thing he could protect, the only thing that mattered. His devotion had flayed his very soul, put it up for bargain for gods and demons, and now he was free, and he had even lost the only thing he was devoted to. Preserving that which was dead, because they weren't.

What does Vergilius see, when he looked at him? His unblinking stare kept on him, and he placed the knife back, never looking away. ]

I don't live in fear, Vergilius. Not of you, not of anything. I've met death so many times we are old friends now, but I always seem to slip away.

[ But he lifted those thin fingers, as if deciding where to act. ]

You want me to act, do you? [ He doesn't stand, but he doesn't have to. His fingers find that space on his thigh, where he knife had plunged in, and he pushes against it, fingers aimed to hurt. Even still, he didn't look away, like he wanted to see the pain on his face. ]

[A beast, huh? Now that's a bitter taste on his tongue if he ever tasted it. There's a brief flash of purple at the back of his eye - a snake-like woman standing above him, taunting him. Using him. In the end, the Purple Tear had her games, and he was merely a pawn in them.]

[Did she see him as a beast, too?]

[He stands still as the man's hands reach out. They broach the bars of the cage. They grasp the hide of the monster, and dig in their own monstrous nails.]

[He tries to keep his expression as placid as possible, but there's a low hiss of air that comes from between his teeth as the pain lances up into his muscles. Vergilius, as he said earlier, won't lay pretty.]

[His own hand reaches out to grasp Silco by the shoulder where he knows there was his own bite mark, sharp and deep. He draws forward, like a magnet, to hover his head above the other with gritted, animal-like teeth.]

Is that all?

[ Pain seared all the way down to his fingers, teeth gritted, a matching pair of fangs exposed by his lips pulling back around them, like he wanted to gnaw something in pain. There is an open wound there, skin ripped free from a bite that tore, a half-open wound that seeped blood when agitated. One of his eyes closed from the pain, but the other, it never wavers, staring at Vergilius as he presses in, causing pain like fire down to his fingers, arcing like a reminder of everything that his brain also hadn't quite forgotten.

How could it? ]

Of course, it isn't. I'm not done.

[ His tone forced out. He wondered if he wanted to hurt like this. Why else would he be back here? Was it because he wanted to let that monster out too? He'd said he wasn't hiding, but how often did he lash out? How often was Vergilius himself like Silco saw him? He wants to drag him out from the depths and just see what is there, vivisected and exposed. See what else could make a man as vile as he was?

He very nearly snapped his teeth at him, his finger digging in just a bit more, like he was trying to make him hurt. He reached up to press at the familiar space, where he'd sunk his fangs into, blood pooling into his mouth. Would it bleed, if he pressed at it? Would it open back up, and he'd smell blood again? He pushed with his fingers, his cigar still held between the two of them. The bright pinprick of it, heated, hovered near his jaw, like a little threat. ]

You aren't, are you? Greedy, greedy.

[Silco winces in pain. Vergilius presses in more. What does he want? Did he come here all the way just to hurt this man, make him cry and beg for mercy? Only a short time ago, he was merely checking in.]

[How did it get to here? How did his feet take him to his place? He doesn't want to kill Silco. Doesn't he? Does he?]

[The tip of the cigarette hovers. Silco pushes in, as if he can enter him and tear out his abominable roots. As if he could even manage to do half of that. You can bring a bucket to the blood-red sea. You can't empty it.]

[Only drown in it.]

...I'm not done, either.

[He says, his whisper scratching in the depths of his throat as the man pushed up with his fingers.]

[He twists to give him a little threat of his own. His mouth opens, before it dives down onto Silco's thumb, narrowly avoiding the tip of that cigar with the movement. His fang presses in as his tongue dives down, as if ready to lick up the blood yet to be spilled. And the key word is "yet".]

[The hunger is asking him to take away that "yet".]

[Patience, patience. Control, control.]

What's wrong — [ He hissed out through tight gritted teeth. He was strong enough to handle it the pain. He'd weathered so much pain throughout his life, hadn't he? What was more? What couldn't he handle? ] — With wanting more?

[ How much more, he didn't know. He'd always been a hungry maw, desperately clawing and fighting for more, and more, and more. Respect, power, whatever his thin little fingers could claw together, first from the muck, then from the dredges of the undercity, and further and further; how hungry had he been in the world before? How much had he sliced off of everything for more and more shreds of it?

His eyes finally broke contact, only for a second, to dart to his fang pressed to his thumb. He hasn't even broken the skin, and his lips twitch, before he leaned forward, digging his fingers in harder. ]

What's stopping you?

[ Is he urging him to break? ]

[He's angry. He's so angry. That anger has always been there, simmering, and Silco has done nothing but dredge it up. Oh, he's tempted.]

[A little snap of the jaw, and that would be it. A crushing of bone. And that thumb would be removed as easy as anything.]

[He could do it.]

[He could.]

[The pain sinks into him, and his eyes flicker, like agitated fireflies-

before he pulls back with a hoarse cough. No, he's not backing off completely.]

[His hand moves from his shoulder to find Silco's hair and yank it back. Vergilius presses in his mouth to the crux of his jaw, sighing - he's shaking. He's trying to calm down, his words murmured into his pale skin.]

....I don't want to kill you. You dimwitted bastard.

That's not what you said last time.

[ His voice snaked out through a strained neck that still ached from the bruise that still lay there, a soft vibration against his lips. Low, coupled with something that isn't quite a chuckle, but there's a thrum of tension there, half like he's egging him on. Did he really want to kill him that badly? ]

Are you tempted?

[ He doesn't want to die, of course, but... Vergilius had Come here. He'd checked in on him. He'd stepped into his den, and now wanted nothing more than to kill him. He could feel the shake against his skin. Was it restraint, or was it something else? He doesn't understand him, and it leaves him agitated that he can be so confusing. He's used to sliding individuals away in neat little boxes, based on who they were. What buttons he could push, or direct. How to make them mad, or slip away silently. Why was it he didn't react exactly the way he'd thought?

He's used to his life being threatened.

So why didn't he?

His fingers never stopped digging. As if he could open them back up, expose the parts of him he wanted to see. He wonders if he should push them open more? The hand on his thigh is lean, and bony, but while he presses his fingers into the wound, his thumb moves, just slightly, brushing against his inner thigh. ]

Or is there something else you want?

...

[To be with Silco feels like a whirlwind, like throwing caution into a tornado. He feels broken, put back together, unsure where his emotions start and where they end.]

[He doesn't even feel all that conscious of his own body, as if its a wild thing of his own. His breath hitches in his chest from...is it the pain? Or the sudden shift against his inner thigh? Vergilius is taking deep breaths against Silco, as if to swallow whatever is left. It serves to cut down on the shaking, at least.]

...I am tempted.

[For what? He doesn't elaborate, here. His hand in Silco's hair holds him steadily as he takes in in another breath, before sucking in a kiss against that beautiful bruised skin.]

[ He'd thought the first time was a fluke, but Vergilius was such a deliberate man, and Silco knew that as well. He'd made up that it was a fluke, and maybe it was so that he didn't have to consider what it meant, and maybe it was another reason, and his mind wound around that like a question, over and over again, like that same puzzle he couldn't exactly figure out where all the pieces went.

No, it wasn't a fluke, was it?

This was a second? Third time? The whole... of everything was such a haze of blood and pain and everything else that he almost couldn't remember one moment from the next. It had been good, finding weak spots and pulling violence out of him, just like now, it felt like he was trying to drown in a sea of blood, looking for the vortex of violence in the middle. Like he could drag it out from the depths, and make sense of it in the light.

But can he, when he keeps throwing these changes into the mix? He doesn't know whether to be angry, or... or...

He realized only belatedly that he'd forgotten to breathe, and he'd done it without even squeezing his hands around his throat again. His fingers had stilled, and gone slack, still pressed to his wounds. He remembered to breathe, the sound too-loud in his ears.

He swallowed, the motion of it moved against his lips. ]

By?

[ He almost doesn't ask it, but he can't help but question it. He can't move his head much, held down like that, but his fingers seek out his free hand, fishing for it, to grasp it with long, thin fingers. ]

[It's only one word. But what a potent word it is. What is he tempted by? These vicious urges? Other desires that spike through his spine, sharp yet heavy?]

[He misses Malkuth. He misses the way she held him so dear, with warm hands that curved around his face, trailed down scarred skin. He's thirsty for a lot in this world. A better world. The laughter of children. And touch, yes, touch. It tears him apart. It grounds him.]

[Silco's hands thread through his. With his mouth where it is, he can feel Silco's heartbeat so distinctly that he almost feels like his teeth should be at his chest again. What is he tempted by? Does he even know? What answer should he give?]

[Does he even want this, or is this pure restless urge?]

[Vergilius sighs. The way they hold hands remind him of that time in the labryinth, two men standing at the precipice of everything. Well, he supposes he has an answer, as his grip squeezes, and he hisses into the other's ear.]

You.

[ What manner of man comes to him here, after what he did, and says something like that? He hated what he'd done to him, or so he fails. He wanted to look him, didn't he? Or was it that aggression that came from something else, that want he hissed into his ear? He could imagine that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he could almost imagine he could hear the blood thudding in his veins too.

Their fingers interlaced, just like that night when he'd thought he could pull the skin apart and look at the man -- a beast -- beneath it. His grip tightens to match his, stronger than his lean frame suggests. ]

Ah - [ It's somewhere between a surprised... Something and... A low note that almost sounds pleased. More honest than he intended, perhaps. He hadn't expected him to admit it, it was easier to ignore when it was unspoken, a trend that he could pretend he was imagining to see.

He lifted joined hands -- still held down, with his lips at his neck, he didn't dare move his head -- forced his wrist close to mouth, fang scraped against flesh, and maybe he drug it out for longer than necessary. He liked that, pinning him in place without holding him down; forcing him to dangle over a precipice. Did he know the kind of power he'd just given him? Over him? This is a sort of power that he's is unused to, but it still evokes that sharp tingle of excitement at the rush of it.

He bit into him, fangs sinking deep into his wrist. It's a contrast, not gentle or kind, but sharp, all points and rough edges, his hand holding him still, as if he couldn't rip his wrist away. Hot blood flooded into his mouth, one of his eyes closed from the rush. Did it taste better, knowing how much power he holds? ]

[Of course Silco is sharp. Of course there's no real warmth to find here. There's no comfort. It's akin to taking thorns to swallow inside of him, hoping to bleed internally.]

[It's what I deserve. For my hypocrisy. For my deception.]

[That familiar voice stands the test of time. Vergilius feels the man's mouth dig in as if its always belonged at his wrist, and a low noise vibrates out of his chest. Maybe it's a groan. Maybe it's the sound of a dog whose been cowed.]

[Yes, of course, the anger is there, and even though he's been leashed like this, this feral dog still has some bite. He will chew on the hand that feeds, and petty, spiteful emotion makes him lower his head. He sucks another bruise into the bouquet of the others, before he bites into...well, at least not his carotid, but its close. Too close.]

[He gasps at the flow of blood, but its such a contrast to the hands below - they hold each other tightly, but the way his thumb strokes upward is almost, vaguely, tender.]

[ His neck is already aching from the bruises; they seem to keep multiplying around him — as if he'd known what a weak spot it was — but his breath gasped in a sudden burst, when he broke skin, his fingers white-knuckled against his, fighting for composure that seemed to keep slipping through his fingers. The blood was a small salve on the loss of his own, but this wasn't really about consumption, was it? Not really.

It was about something else, maybe something like reminding each other about the danger they were both in from each other — Silco from physical danger, Vergilius from the danger of being wrapped up in Silco's little plans and plots — but Silco knew exactly the kind of danger he was in, and hadn't sought to step back; he'd so often had his life threatened that it almost seemed to be nothing — and yet here he was, allowing him close. Closer than he'd even allowed the demon he'd sold his soul to.

This was foolish for how dangerous it was, but there was the power too. Like he had that feral dog's leash, even if it snapped back at him and bit him. When had he ever wanted safe, or kind things? No, he knew that Vergilius could kill him, and wasn't half of the rush the fact that he survived? Escaped with only puncture wounds and bruises that he made sure to match?

He isn't satisfied with one wound on his wrist, he pulls his fangs free, but the blood pooling in the twin wounds draws his mouth back to the wound, his tongue pressed to the puncture wounds, and did the blood just keep coming? Was his heart pounding that hard?

He bit him again, a second mark just a touch higher than the first, the blood smearing over his lips and cheek, a soft, satisfied sound seemed to escape from somewhere in him, when he sank his fangs back in. The scent of blood hanging in the air between them just made him want more of it, to leave a series of bites down his arm so he couldn't cover all of them up and hide them away. ]

[He drinks from him. They drink from each other. It dizzies him, to think of this ouroboros of blood, shared from one to another. They're the same. They're nothing like each other. Paradoxically, both can be true.]

[Maybe it is the blood and the vampire hunger. Something to land his blame on, easily. He can use it as a way to maybe explain the palpable full-body shiver that comes as Silco makes his move. A whimper of a gasp comes from his mouth as he pulls away, head knocking a little against the other's.]

[It's horrible. It's so, so good.]

[Hunger asks for so much.]

[His legs tremble - he finds himself shifting forward as if a magnet begs him so, and settles on the man's lap. He dwarfs Silco easily. Perhaps it isn't comfortable for him. Who cares about that?]

[His mouth trails down, leaving streaks of blood, before he starts to gnaw along the edge of the clavicle he finds, a dog to a bone.]

[ Compared to him, Silco is small, thin and reedy, and Vergilius has almost a foot on him when he zeroes in on him, into his space, and it isn't comfortable, but he doesn't crumple under the weight of him, he only shifts, swallowing the last of the blood from the latest bite on his arm. He almost snakes back in to take another bite, but he's too close, and dipping lower, and —

The weight of him feels a little like he's trapped, pressed into the seat, he can't escape, and it's claustrophobic like everything from the blood to the air between them is shared, he doesn't feel like there's enough to go around, and it makes him greedy to find a way to dominate, especially when he holds him down like this.

The sharp hiss of air through his teeth was audible, his fingers instinctively found that injury on Vergilius's thigh again — pressed so much closer now that he was in his lap — and he dig his hand in, to make it hurt, give as much as he got. His fingers relaxed, and he released his hand, to wind it into his hair, brushing it out of his eyes.

He tightened his grip, and tugged, not necessarily to pull him away from the gruesome bite, but to keep him in line. ]

Careful — [ Half a hiss of pain, half a command. ] — Don't leave a mess on my shirt.

[ It sounds less in control than he would have liked. ]

Tch.

[Silco pulls him back, and with the pressure of the finger pressing into sensitive, injured flesh, his lips pull back in a definite hiss, punctuated with a gruff groan. Oh, so he wants to dictate what he should do, huh? How bold he is. A small man who doesn't ever want to relent. He likes that. He doesn't like it, also, but Silco never would have attracted him if he was simply the type to let life roll over him.]

[Now that his hand is free, he's reaching up to slide over his chest, hook his fingers on the edge of his collar. His exposed eyes, no longer hiding under the shade of bangs, are vivid as ever, like jewels. Inhuman, really. Hungry.]

....Maybe we should get rid of your shirt. [A simple solution, right? His hand starts to pull down on the fabric, trying to find the nearest button to pluck away from its slot.] Save you the mess.

[ He met his eyes — so often they were mostly covered, it's almost surprising how bright they are — he thinks they look like a predator, aiming to consume him whole if he didn't bring him to heel. Is that a thrill? It's feels like... something, a jump in his heartbeat when he looks down at his bright eyes glowing in dim light, and his bloodstained lips from biting his way down his neck, and lower. Truly like that dark beast stalking its prey.

His fingers left the wound — lifted to brush the blood from his bottom lip with his thumb. Maybe chancing that bite again. His other hand remained in his hair, and tightened slightly, tugging it just a little more. Maybe a threat? A bid to stop, but — ]

Stop taking your time.

[ Maybe not a bid to stop then.

He met his gaze when he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked his own blood off of it. ]

[Silco feels like a king on a throne. He's never cared for royalty. The man underneath him makes his proclamation, presses his finger over those seeking lips, and licks off the blood that should belong to him. Ah, see, that's the hunger speaking. But which one? The vampirism? Or something else?]

[Yes, Silco makes him hungry. A gnawing sort of feeling, a worm that needs to find the core in this rotten apple. He wants to ruin the man. He wants to ruin himself.]

[And so, he heeds it with a glint of a grin as his hand grasps the fabric and simply - pulls. Yanks it, really. With his strength, it gives way as easy as anything, and just like that, the exposed chest makes him dive his head down. No more going slow. He's attacking in a flurry of kisses and light bites, teeth catching on the edges of ribs as he hums the whole while.]

[In the midst of it all comes a slower, definite shift of movement as if to drive the man mad. His hips are starting to curve into his lap, heavy as they come.]

[ There is a part of him that enjoys the way he follows commands; a thrill because he knows possibly better than most that he could die at any moment under his hands. He's not so strong that Vergilius couldn't reach out and tighten around his neck again, or drain him dry, or snap his neck with a flick of his hands, the same ones that tugged his shirt open in a quick motion, obedient. That's power, and his skin prickled with gooseflesh — was it from the chill air, from being so exposed, or from the press of his lips and teeth?

The other part is wary — so wary — from being so exposed around someone else. Particularly around someone who can kill him so readily. It's that double-edged sword, slicing both ways, leaving him carefully balanced on that razor's edge, not sure if he will teter off one way or the other — but it's the thrill of both, suspended in the air, crushed under his heavy weight. He has nowhere to go, he can't escape.

It makes the slight gasp around his thumb sound shaky. Underneath his shirt he's as thin and bony as the rest of him, his ribs ridges on too-pale skin. He twitches under his lips and bites, welts and bruises already left in his wake. His fingers search for his neck, or his shoulders, like finding an injury to dig into would yield the same as his attentions. His lips part, the occasional breath escaped like an uncontrolled secret being spilled, because giving anything away feels like a danger, even shaky breaths.

His control slips, the first real sign of some of that carefully constructed structure is crumbling under his white knuckled grip. His lips peel back around his teeth, fingers still searching at his neck for those still healing wounds — They go still the moment his hips bear down on his lap. He's crushing, bearing down on him. It leaves him pressed against the seat, barely able to move, barely able to breathe, with his lips catching the edges of his ribs. He feels a little mad, powerless, and trapped, a flush her rarely feels on his cheeks and then there's the — press of him. His fingers abandon his neck, his hair; snaking their way down to his thighs instead, thin fingers digging into the meat, beckoning him closer. ]

[What does it take to destroy a man?]

[He could list a million ways. Any good killer could. But here's a way that feels like its worming beneath both of their skins - an iron rope hitched to each other's bodies, tugging and pulling with every shift in this impossible struggle. Vergilius gains power. Then Silco, with his need for dominance, gains power. But who will win? Is there a point to winning? Is it too simple to think that anyone could win, here?]

[There's still a part of Vergilius who wants to reach down to pull Silco out of the muck. He, too, despite all he is, should deserve to live in a world where he could be at peace, and that hunger could be once and finally sated. But now, a very different part emerges. Something pettier, more vicious than he gives himself credit for. Silco gasps underneath him, a lovely little sound, and the thought is realized - he wants loss of control. He wants Silco to whine and howl and beg. It's also what he deserves, doesn't he? For all he's done? For what he did to him?]

[More, more, more. Silco's spindly fingers twist over his thighs, thick with muscle, and he's bowing to the order of them. He rocks into that grip, slowly but surely, as if to drive him down into the depths. His injury smarts, and his clothes are wet with blood, but who cares? His own breath comes ragged as his hands make more work of this pathetic clothing, tearing it this way and that. His scarred hands make a journey down below, cascading over this raw frame before he pushes the man's shoulders further back into the chair so he's practically enveloping him.]

[A bite of a kiss to his lips. And another. Even as the rhythm continues, the threat remains strong.]

[There's no escape.]

[ That is when he fights, struggling against his hand pushing him into his chair, but it does little good, it just serves for the impact against the chair to make him huff softly in pain, and the whole thing groan from the force of his body slamming against it. Something about this shifts, like he's grasping for an upper hand that slips out of his fingers like sand. He sinks into the seat as if it would allow him to find that distance he's clawing for now. Not from this, but what he needs for control. Over himself, over Vergilius, something to wrest the situation to his advantage.

There's nothing to grasp. Even with power that vampirism gives him, it's not enough. It's never enough, is it? He can't escape — does he want to, really? — and there's a frantic quality to his fingers at his thighs, somewhere between tugging him closer and pushing him away. Like a part of him wants to wrest back from him everything that he'd taken in one swift push of his hands. With his shirt open all the way — was it not just tattered at this point? — his fingers find that wound, a remnant of the last time he'd been with his back up against a hard surface and out of control. He did what he did last time, he made him hurt, because Silco had never been the type to give up a fight.

He feels like there's a point to be made here, maybe Verigilus is making one too, but Silco's lips curl against his, the threat of fangs scraping against his. Was this the monster he was looking for all along? Had it only taken forcing him into a corner to bring it out. His heart thudded in his chest, loud enough that the only sounds in the room are beating hearts, heavy breaths, and the creak and groan of the chair, fighting to stay solid while they poke at wounds and bite each other raw.

He bites him back, his fangs threaten to puncture his lip. Silco would always be a fight, he promises, there is no gentle acquiescence or fearful cowing — a fight for domination, and the smaller man still has tricks up his sleeve. He'll draw the monster out, even if he feels as much fear as pride at pulling it out, like he's reaching into his chest to dig out the horrible parts of him and put them on display. He wants to see it, no matter what it takes to get him there, and looming over him like this, he feels it. Fear, so sharp like a blade bubbling in his chest and threatening to spill over.

There's no room for fear. For a lack of conviction. He could not tempt the beast like this, and not expect it to bite.

His breath is shaky, bordering on a gasp against his lips. Just nearly there, he only needs to push him just a little more, doesn't he?

But Silco's fingers drift up from his thighs — thin, dextrous things, they move quick where he can't see, Silco's eyes focused on Vergilius's and his teeth snapping back against his with each kiss.

They scrape at the edge of his shirt, fingers looking for flesh to scrape against, and leave furrows from dull nails. Like he's trying to silently remind him who he's playing with — a reminder he's playing with fire, and that he'll burn him when he gets too close, if he's not careful. ]

[So Silco unlocked the secret here. He can have his beautiful monster. He has it here and now, and its a beast that is currently taking a little too much pleasure in rocking so decisively into his lap. Silco's fingers find his wound, and the pain lances like a whip into flesh, but it only seems to spur him onwards with a little hiss and a groan.]

[His own scars are testament. He has received all the pain he could bear, and not a single thing has been able to break him.]

[Really, all it has is just made him worse.]

[Silco's hands move and tear over sinewy old skin. More attempts to hurt, to gain some control over what he wanted all along. Be careful what you wish for. He grins a little, finding it somehow funny in the heat and sound of this friction. Oh, he's hungry. This doesn't feel like its enough.]

[Will it ever be? Or is it too late, now?]

[He's sucking on the other's jaw now as he abandons his kisses for this short moment so he can growl against this ravaged skin. The man's sweat is mixing in with the metal smell of the blood already spilled.]

You asked for this. [One of his hands drops down between them, intentionally kneading down over Silco's groin as if to rudely punctuate his words.] I really should take you to the bed and make you see stars. Haaa. It might do you some good.

[ Did I?

He doesn't even get to the point where the words can form, in its place is another of those gasps, like it's yanked out of his throat before anything else escapes. Another little crack in that armor that is his control, but he swallows it back with tight-fisted grip, his fingers seeking weak spots that don't exist. There are no injuries to poke and prod at, more like dull scratches against his skin.

He'd invited him in, hadn't he? Asked him to hurry up? Could he say that he wasn't dancing with the monster under his skin, if he hadn't given as much as he'd gotten? Crushed up against the chair, he hadn't stopped him, when he bit down and ripped his shirt to tatters. Could he say that he hadn't asked for it when he was sprawled beneath him biting — kissing? — him back, and threatening to sink his teeth into his lip?

It was too late well before this, wasn't it? ]

Should?

[ He reached up to thread his fingers through that fringe of hair again, before he tugged it back forcefully to look him in the eyes. It gives him a good look at Silco, with his scar exposed and stringy, his lips bitten, his normally too-pale skin flushed. If he has any control left, it's hanging on by a thread. ]

You didn't strike me as the type to be all talk, are you?

[He does it again. Pull the hair back, yank it like a leash, force his gaze out in the open. There are not many who can meet it. But he doesn't think he's ever met someone like Silco before, who taunts him, defies him at every turn. His grip, a leash, his gaze, a way to control.]

[He doesn't want to be controlled. He wants to be controlled. How can it be, this paradox of his? He wants to be hated and he wants to be loved, he wants to destroy it all and he wants to be destroyed. All these years, he has kept the balance inside his wretched heart in check. It was easy to do in the City.]

[But Silco comes in, falls into his life, and that paradox reaches out with hungry arms to envelope him into the heart of this chaotic heart.]

[What a lovely flush. He memorizes it - a part of him realizes he was disappointed before, when Silco had turned him into a vampire, that he wondered if Silco enjoyed it to his core. Not simply experiencing victory, but pleasure.]

[His mouth shifts up, bloodied, into a smirk. And instantly, he's pulling back, slipping out of the man's lap - and he doesn't even give a second to breathe before he's pulling Silco up by the collar like he's a stuffed toy. He lifts him over as easy as anything, tossing him onto the bed before crawling in on top of him with vivid eyes and a mouth wanting to tear and kiss. Hands find the edge of the other's pants before yanking the belt off, tossing it against the wall, and pulling it all down up and over his knees.]

[Another kiss for you, Silco. But there's a hand to dive down between his legs as well to fondle over him before gripping him tight, solidly giving it a solid pump.]

[ Oh, for all of his protests that he wasn't at fault, he had enjoyed turning him, reshaping him into something else, leaving a mark on him that wouldn't just disappear or heal away, like he's got claws in him, lacing under the skin like a bitter and burning reminder. A burr stuck under flesh as unpleasant as the man himself.

He doesn't necessarily forget how strong he is; but hoisted in the air it's hard to think about anything but how much stronger he is, and that does something to his brain, makes it stallimg like it's catching on a stray thread and unwinding it, letting it tug free. He can't think of anything but that, up until —

He lands with a soft huff on the bed, uncoordinated and limbs askew. He almost lunges for him, a little bit of that fight still in him, unwilling to let Vergilius get the advantage — but he has it —

Silco's breath hitches against his lips. Legs all wound up in his pants he kicked his leg to get it free, but the effort is stalled by his hand on him, fingers wrapped tight, that strength held back to a solid, slow pump of his hand. His fingers are quick to find advantage, and they're clever things, his fingers, they tug in turn at the collar of his shirt, trying to pull it off — or rip it — it doesn't really matter what as long as it was off.

He thought he might be going mad, a blood haze that pounds in his head, hungry for just a little bit more — maybe everything he could take — if it meant a little bit more of what he saw in him, the man and the monster, that he could draw all of them out and sort through the pieces. Like he could make him break into pieces over him so he could help piece it back. He likes it, the power. Feeling like he has a leash on him that he tugged this way and that. Where he wanted him.

He rolled his hips into his hand, his teeth biting against his lips, another mockery of something that could be tender, but he was all sharp edges, like sleeping with a knife. Then again, he'd never expected anything different from Silco, had he?]

[This is a far cry from the trysts he had with Malkuth - sweet, fun little things, full of smiles and twirled hair and teasing that warmed the cheeks and made the heart tender. Yes, this is nowhere near that - Silco reaches up, tears his blazer off, then his collared shirt which he also helps pull off of himself to reveal the expanse of muscled, scarred skin.]

[This is not a shared warmth between two people. This is a violent affair. A way to bring the other down to their level and use desire to string them up and crucify them to their heart's content. Why, Vergilius, despite his nature, finds pleasure in this. In the way the man's slender legs jerk against him as the fight in him has yet to die down. He will show the slightest amount of mercy to pull the rest of his pants and underwear off to leave him well and enough exposed.]

[And after mercy comes punishment. He dives his tongue past thin lips to tease the other to return the favor, still willing to bite in the midst of this fervor. He won't slack in his job down below, either - as he sighs into this vampire's mouth, his hand pumps as firmly as anything, trying to milk whatever reaction he can out of the man.]

[Silco wants to fight. So does he, in his own way.]

[He wants to break him into a million pieces.]

[ No, there's nothing kind, or sweet here. Silco's all sharp edges, as rotted to the core as the river he'd been drowned in. It's an insidious thing, maybe, trying to tug him down into the undertow with him, while his fingers found purchase and dug into healed-over scar lines like they were something he could hold onto, dig into. This is control, and maybe hunger — he feels like he can almost hear the blood rushing between them, open wounds everywhere they've bitten each other, or poked into open wounds — and he wants to pull him down.

His lips part almost automatically, his fangs are a sharp hazard, like everything else about him, and he's quick to drag them against his tongue, or his lips, whatever he can find, leaving a stinging cut against his skin wherever he can find purchase. It's half a kiss, half a biting, stinging response, snapping down against his lips when his hands sink downward, an automatic response that lacks whatever control he's managed to pull from his white knuckled grip on his side.

He fights back, not just biting kisses against his lips and tongue, or the tightly-dug grip against his sides — his legs now freed found place to rest, he pressed a knee against him digging in with just on the side of too much against his groin, pressing just too hard.

It was never going to be gentle, or warm. But there was something honest in that, the both of them were fighting, trying to break each other apart. What would happen if one of them broke?

He hissed out against his lips, that lack of control slipping out, escaping from that iron grip. His voice slipped out with it, soft, barely there, but the room is silent except for their shared breaths. It's hard to miss the edge of a groan into the quiet between them, while they try both try to pull each other apart piece by piece. ]

[No, he would be disappointed if Silco gave it up and laid there pretty. He would feel like a predator who has toyed too much with a mouse that its passed out, and its no longer fun. That notion brings a swell of heat into his ears, suddenly - because that doesn't feel like him. And yet, it does. He's the type of man to beat himself over the back for his sins, and yet...]

[Well, is this a sin? To break down an awful man, get him to experience this deconstruction by his hand? Even his gasps are delicious, the painful press of his knee into his groin betraying some possible leverage. His own arousal strains heavy, still trapped behind fabric, but he ignores the discomfort. He flicks his wrist, and strokes over the head a little more insistently.]

[Silco must fall. He has to go over the edge. He wants to bring him there. See his face, hear his cries of a total loss of inhibition.]

[And so, he encourages - by smiling into the kisses as he takes them one and all. Silco's scar feels rough against his cheeks, and it reminds him of kissing over that beautiful scar in that dark dark hallway.]

...How pretty you are.

[He murmurs - something sincere, but also something to make him act even more than he already is doing. No, a few gasps isn't enough.]

[He's greedy that way, he thinks, as he sucks on the edge of his jawline.]

[ He's already flagging control, it's easy to feel it in his fingers or how clumsily his knee tries to pressure a reaction out of him in turn. As much as he would brag about his careful control over a situation, Vergilius has somehow figured out a way to slip in past those defenses, and pull apart the supports bit by bit, or maybe it was because Silco had tried to get too close, to understand him, and left all the weak spots unattended.

He is so dangerously exposed, naked save for the shreds of his shirt, pressed up against the bed where blood and sweat has already pooled from open exposed wounds, mixing and staining the sheets. His breaths are already harsh, and he feels his smile against his lips, something almost alien to either of them. So were the words he murmured before he returned to his jaw, sending a sharp, surprised shiver down his spine. He almost bites something out — that he doesn't have to just say things — but it devolved into something that's another gasp when his fingers keep moving, a tight grip around him.

He knew he didn't have a chance of holding onto his careful control, but he couldn't simply give him the satisfaction of taking him apart without taking him along with him. It's with a hiss against him, while he sucks bruises on his jaw, his knee slipping down, but his fingers replace it, from digging next to scars to tearing with his clever fingers to slip under the waistband of his pants.

But Vergilius's fingers flick over the head, and the flush across his cheeks blossoms into something deep, his mouth open, a lower, more honest groan than before slipped free, rawer. ]

[Silco is on the attack. Those scars itch and whine with pain, his jaw throbs with teeth marks. The man finds what lies below, and he has to cut back his own groan behind a bite of his lower lip as those fingertips brush against the swollen, needy hit. He would buck against that touch, if not only for the sudden piercing tone of what comes out of Silco's mouth.]

[He latches onto it, in his fervor. What a beautiful sound. Its enough to send his heart into his spine with an electrifying beat, making him shiver out a groan of his own. Words start to spill out of his mouth, unfettered. The babble of a madman.]

Silco. Silco, Silco. Oh, I wish you came prepared. I would've ground you into the bed for that. I would. I would break you.

[A haggard, rough little noise, as he pulls back a hand to help the man, unzipping his pants before he returns to his task. The pumps of his hand, scars and all, are thorough, but put of rhythm, almost a little too needy.]

Hah. [And his other hand yanks the man's hand right over his groin, to do as he pleases. Another kiss, another, with a definite growl from the back of his throat.] Say my name. Say it.

[ There's something about the way his words spill out, uncontrolled and honest that sent a jolt of a thrill down his spine, a shaky breath exhaled. He'd been swallowing them, his little hitches of breath and the louder gasps that he knew would give away how quickly this was spiraling out of control for him too. His fingers wrapped around his cock, nowhere near gentle, instead a nearly too-tight grip, but his motions are clumsy and just as out of rhythm as his.

He swallowed into his lips, another soft gasp shared between them like shotgunning a smoke — it devolves into another of those lower groans, his mouth open and pressed to his — the sharp scrape of fangs ever-present. It makes kissing him dangerous, and he's not of a mind to concentrate where his fangs pierce or drag against skin. It hurts, even while he can't do anything but acquiesce to him. ]

You should — have planned for that — Vergilius — [ It's half a command, but his voice sounds raw and rough against his lips. It's only soft because the room is small, because Silco doesn't dare speak up, promising something like this. ] Next time —

[ His words come with a soft groan, and like it's a battle, he swept his hand up against him, to swipe his thumb against his head, before he drug it back down slowly. Next time, he promises, like this isn't just a one-off encounter. Perhaps he doesn't intend it to be. ] — Perhaps I'll let you.

[ His hips roll, to match his pace, completely uncontrolled and unbidden. His free hand reaches up to loop around his neck, pulling him back in close, against Silco's neck so he can hum in his ear, teasing him with fangs against his flesh, hips fucking into his hand. A soft gasp against his ear. ]

Maybe I'll let you break me, Vergilius.

[ They both knew it was a fight to see who broke first. ]

[See, this is what he was missing from before. From their little encounter, body to body, in the dark hallway of where their blood mingled with one another. Reciprocation. Silco wants this. Wants him. What he says is everything. From the way he gasps his name, to the promise of a next time.]

[Oh, a next time. His brain is on fire. Brief glimpses of images. Silco's hips against his, completely. More sighs into his ears, more cute noises ro swallow one by one. Next time. The image of a headboard knocking against a wall. More of a flush in Silco's cheeks. Next time. His voice cracks at the weight of it, pouring through his being with a definite rush of heat and blood below.]

As if you would - gh - let me do that to you.

[Silco wouldn't lay flat and pretty. Even now, those fangs smart at his ear to make him jump and moan as the hum of the ear warms the flesh after. Vergilius starts to buck into his grip - shamelssly. A thrust, two thrusts, even as his own hand starts to try to time his own hips and their movement with the machinations of his fingers over Silco. More, more.]

Hrgh - Silco. [He bites over that beautiful slender neck, hums, and suddenly feels it, the tension about to snap like a taut wire.]. I'll do everything for -that-

[And he goes over, a wave to drown them both as he muffles a moan into the man's crook of his neck with the jerking shot of hot release. He lost the battle, perhaps. Or maybe he will win the war. So it shall be. They will sink together. Hand in unlovable hand.]

[In the sea of blood, stretched to eternity.]

[ Oh —

He would hold off, if he could; if he had the will to. But the man's lips on his neck, humming and biting, and there's the way his hips and hand finally find something like a matching pace. He doesn't bite back the hisses, gasps — the soft throaty moans are few, but they slip out when his eye slips closed, his other locked onto Vergilius's face, or the lines of scars on him, or his shoulder, wherever he can.

His words are what do it — the way they slip out unbidden, tickling against sweaty, sensitive skin; his fingers grip tight, riding him out —

He swallowed, grit his teeth, but his lean, small body trembled underneath him, and he leaned up to press his forehead against his shoulder, one eye closed. His hips moved, trying to match the pace, try to drag just a little bit more — his fingers still moved against him, messy from him, slick. ]

I'll — [ his breath shuddered, his words rougher than before. ] — Aah — I'll make you —

[ He tried to press more against him, as if he could split and push into his skin. Like he could wind his way in there, and he gasped, the sound devolving into another of those moans — louder this time — lips, teeth, fangs (it didn't matter; it mattered so much) found skin to consume, biting his way along flesh, hooking a single fang in his skin when he — finally —

It was so sudden, only seconds behind, a gasp that was louder than the rest, completely and fully out of that tight control. His hips jerked, his body taut, spilling over his hand and his belly. He could only see dancing stars in his vision, swimming between his vision, half-closed and open, blanking out sight of anything for a moment that seemed to hang in the air.

There was blood everywhere between them, and sweat, and —

He didn't move — he didn't think he could move, still with his forehead on his shoulder, a single fang caught into his skin.

He breathed hard against his skin, still fighting to find a way back to reality while it kept slipping through his fingers. ]

[He barely feels the fangs biting in his skin. He barely feels anything but the thunderclap electricity that shocks the system, makes him feel alive. But no, that's not quite true. Even in the throes of this horrific euphoria, the searing heat of Silco following right after him holds like a punch above the rest. It makes him shudder so perceptibly that it almost makes him let go, but he doesn't. His chest heaves. The smell of everything - blood, tears, and Silco - threaten to burn in his nose.]

[It was never like this with Malkuth. This feels like he, himself, has been reinvented. As his eyes start to register what's around him, he's more than conscious of his own body now, and the fang still buried in his shoulder.]

[He reaches up with a hand to yank the man off - only to chase him with his mouth to singe a kiss against his lips. He tastes good. His voice is raw, ragged, and yet he whispers for Silco and Silco alone.]

...I meant what I said earlier.

[Him being pretty? That he would break him? Any of that?]

[Why, he'll not even elaborate and let Silco pick up the pieces to give his own guess of an answer.]

[ His own brain buzzes with something, like his hearing hasn't quite returned like he can't quite focus on anything yet. It's all so raw and odd and terribly vulnerable. Silco's hand still curled around him, still gently, slowly rubbing against him, as if he could pull just a little bit more out of him, just a touch further. Maybe he still wants more, or maybe he wants to take a little more of him, like he's taking more from him.

It's all a bloody, ripe mess. He should hate it.

He doesn't mind it, shamefully.

Vergilius gets a soft squawk of surprise out of him when he pulled him off, his lips following it so that the sound is swallowed between them, shifting to something like a soft gasp against his lips.

He wants to know what he means by that — would knowing make it better? Or worse? Surely it can't be that he thinks he's pretty. Would he promise to break him? The near-memory of his desperate promise tipping him over — would it be that? The flush on his face — dusted across his shoulders too — They rise and fall with still too-heavy breaths, still coming down from the rush of seeing stars, just like he promised.

He pulled back to look him in the eyes — he refused to be the coward who looked away — unblinking eye staring into his. ]

Good.

[ His voice is hoarser than he wanted, uncontrolled. Does he know which thing? Did it matter? None of it had been... distasteful. ] I'll hold you to it.

[ He won't admit it; but he'll be thinking about it, and worrying over it, trying to put the puzzle together. ]

Rumour has it you have friends in low places.
How much to broker something?

I might have a few, yes. The price depends on what it is, if course. Care to share a few details?

I need a meet with Poe.
You know, the old fart who's monopolised VR experiences.

I'm familiar. What sort of meeting are we arranging? That can have quite the difference on the price, you know. It would be my head on the line as well, were something to...happen.

I'm not going to endanger your [...] business.
Call it a consultation.

Oh, excellent. I would hate to have to deal with any fallout.

[ As if he'd allow that really ]

Consultations are easy. Subject? Should I give him any inclination, or is this something you want to keep under wraps?

[ fallout? ]

What do you take me for?

[ Nanami is pretty sure that even in his current state he doesn't give off insane criminal energy? he's just semi-sleepwalking and minding his own business! ]

I'm not sure yet.
A general consultation is acceptable, no?

I don't take you for anything. Call it a natural suspicion.

[ Unfortunately, Silco is... always expecting the worst. ]

I suppose a general consultation is something I could try and pull some strings, yes. I only cook books, you understand, but I'm quite good at what I do. I can make something happen.

Yes, Silco-san, I figured a much.
Back to my original question: what would your broker's fee be?

I'm expensive, you understand.

1,500,000 kryptos. Alternatively, a very expensive favor.

[ whatever happened to first one's free? ]
Nothing in this world is worth anything, Silco-san.
But since we're in the financial realm, it's up to us to make up numbers, I suppose.
How about 1M?

[ Never! He's a businessman ]

Oh? Only 1?

These sorts of meetings are fairly expensive. Let's say one, plus a favor. To be called in at a later date, hm? I have to show intent as a potential investor, after all. That requires a great deal of cash to prove.

Only 1. For now.
I may have had to neglect my portfolio due to time constraints.
You know how it is.

I do appreciate your time and effort.
Could we make an addendum?
1M and a 40% share of the profit I intend to make.
Should those 40% amount to less than the originally asked additional 500k, the favour option takes its place instead.

[ Portfolio, huh? Well. Color him curious. To be fair, with a name like 'banker boy' it should be expected. ]

Well now.

You do know how to make an interesting deal, don't you?

This is an amenable deal. I can make the call, and appropriately organize your meeting. You'll have your named attached to a... say, less than reputable organization, though it will not be one that you are fully associated with. Just understand that the person reaching out may have criminal ties.

Is that going to be a problem?

I don't say this lightly all things considered: goddamn dude

what kind of misunderstanding pissed you off this time

It's not a misunderstanding.

Merely an... old acquaintance resurfaced. From Kenos.

I have to be honest with you bossman. didn't seem like you had many friends there so I couldn't even guess which one you're unhappy to see

at least it ain't 3am this time so thanks

you want to talk about it? I'll grab some stuff and come over

There would be very few, you're correct.

[ But... ]

Fine. Let me clean up the glass.

plenty of time. be over soon

[ It takes a lot of courage to do that. She has to swallow her pride and choke as it gets stuck somewhere in her throat. But... She has to do it, for not doing it would be even worse. She's been told of the mood altering effect of the pockies she'd been eating, but she can't just deflect and place the blame on this alone!

And so, Silco gets a three words message from the most unlikely of senders: ]

I am sorry.

[ That's it, nothing else. The distress writing those three words has brought her is overwhelming enough as is. ]

[ Oh he's angry.

He's angry because not only was his life threatened because of... a stray thought that this system had no right to pluck out of his head — how many more could it pluck? Silco was a restrained man, the type who kept secrets like they were all that fueled the world.

She had seen one of his own, and come to his rooms to attack him over it. (He'd goaded her on.)

He's still vibrating with fear. He's considering leaving base for a few days just to be as far away as possible. ]

For which thing? Trying to kill me, goading me, or hunting me down in the first place? Or is it all three? There are far worse fiends than me on base, but you are signularily focused on me.

[ she met one of them already :) ]

Those other fiends did not to introduce themselves to me by gloating about murdering one of my friends.

[ You only do that if you want to be hated and put under scrutiny! Ugh. It's a very fortunate thing that Silco makes it very easy on her to not stay sorry for long. ]

If you do not want to be seen as a threat, stop behaving as one!

Did I not help with the Kaiju? Despite everything?

[ He does run his mouth tho. ]

Let me ask you this, hm? Do you think me the sort of man to do things without reason? Or that I would prescribe my actions before I take them?

What was your reason for the way you introduced yourself to me then?

[ If there was a reason for it beyond pissing her off, she can't see it. ]

I am a powerless human asked to kill kaiju. Can you not imagine what it getting out that I have killed a god would do for my reputation?

There's only one language that anyone shares, and it is fear. Gods should be reminded that they are little better than us, when it comes down to it.

[ Also to rub it in, nasty man. ]

Well,
It failed.
I am not afraid of you.
And I now have reason to hate you.

[ Wary? Yes, absolutely. Afraid? Unfortunately not. And even if it'd worked, what then? Did he expect her not to kill someone who scares her? ]

Anyway I have apologized for yesterday.
That is all I wanted to say.

[ Silco is used to the bluster and bully tactics of the Lanes. Be the biggest fish in a small pond. Even in Kenos, where the powers were rife, he'd been able to lean on these tactics, using Sebastian like a cudgel while those intoxicating whispers pulled him further and further down into fervent loyalty.

To the destructive forces? Yes, but there was always that carrot on the end of the stick — his daughter.

Maybe here, before he'd realized — that she was alive — there was a foolhardy part of him that didn't care, or maybe he did, and he just wanted to show all these gods that he wasn't to be cowed by the might of their power.

Even now, he would rather she hate him, which is better than ignoring him. Thinking he is nothing. ]

Well, I suppose I should say apology accepted, but I still do not know what set you off other than my idle thoughts.

Perhaps you should consider not listening in on the thoughts of others, or give them the grace that they deserve when they are unwanted.

[ The irony of Silco saying this. Of course, he wouldn't look within long enough to turn it on himself ]

[ Ereshkigal would absolutely help him build a better future for his daughter! But no. Gotta be a douche. Sighs. This is so typical. ]

I have been told those pockies I was eating enhanced negative feelings towards people you really dislike.

[ He did great earning the top spot for her in that category.

But that's all she says, she's happy forgetting this happened. Good night, sir. ]
You?

[ Nope, sorry, his pleasant side got drowned out of him in a murder attempt! :) He's fine being the worst person you've met.

Well, worst overtly. ]

Maybe you should consider being careful about what you eat in the future, hm?

[ jesus christ silco ]

[ There are no replies.

He can go back to being terrified in his room, thank you very much. ]

[Vergilius isn't...completely heartless. Actually the opposite. But sometimes you hear a man walk into his own rake, and you'd rather he do that and see the consequences later. Silco is special that way.]

still alive?

[ activates the bully neuron 😌 ]

You're making a habit of checking in on me to see if I'm still living.

[ So that's a yes. ]

Had someone not intervened, I could have died.

do you want me to stop?

that so? who stopped your would-be killer?

No, it's fine.

[ A damning response. ]

Sebastian stopped her. He was "just passing by", supposedly.

[ He doesn't believe that for a second. This is all a power play. It has to be. ]

[Actually...he will switch to voice for this one, his tone vaguely amused.]

Aww. Well. Can't stop me now.

[Though...]

Sebastian, huh. Is he interested in striking up a deal for his good deed?

Hm. Maybe next time you'll think to check in before I need intervention? I'd rather you than...

[ Well. ]

He wasn't interested in a deal. [ His words come icy, rough even. He'd gotten cornered. ] He decided it was more fun to taunth me.

So it's fortunate I'm alive today.

Depends on what's in it for me.

[A cruel thing to say, but maybe he is being a little tongue in cheek, here, what with him checking in now.]

I see. What bad luck you have. [Hmm.] How was she planning on killing you? A curse?

I don't let people work for free — I'd make it worth your while.

[ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ]

This is par for the course, my luck has never been good. [ this is mostly because of silco. But you know. Maybe after the first Bad Things ] She was going to use her spears. Shoot them at me for... What, talking?

[ Running his mouth ]

That so. Like our first meeting, you have to tell me what you're willing to give.

[In exchange for protection and nothing else, of course.]

Oh, spears. I got a curse from her once. You do have a tendency to piss people off, though. Maybe look into it.

You don't seem the type interested in money, are you? I've already promised you interesting fights. How about, next Kaiju fight, I give you something you'll really enjoy. Something to make you more powerful. You'll like it.

[ Not that he needs it, but... ]

Hm, I could. Although if she's cursing even you, have we talked about how she's upsetting people?

I'm already powerful, Silco. Believe me, this body has been through augmentations like nothing else. So not exactly appealing, here.

[Silco are you going to microdose him....please....]

She's just sensitive. She's the type to wear her heart on her sleeve.

[ Well this is news. ]

Is that what all your scars are from?

[ The startling realization that he's way more powerful than he thought ]

She may be sensitive, but she is also a goddess. All of that power, and she can barely handle an insult? She's easier to rile up than Jinx, and she's a fraction of the age.

No, I just walked into a mine field when I was a kid.

[EXTREMELY FUCKING DRY]

This is true. But as far as people to rile up, she's not worth it for exactly that reason. All that power and a fragile nature to boot. Bad combo.

Hm. Well. I thought something that gods used would be good enough for you, but I suppose not. You've got expensive tastes, you know that?

[ as difficult as he is?? ]

Hm. You are not wrong. [ But that makes him WANT to pick on her. ] She should work on that, or she'll continue to be outdone by the rest of the gods here.

I still have no idea what you're talking about. Some kind of power supplement?

[And a sigh.]

That's her problem. I'm not here to fix gods and goddesses, and neither are you.

An enhancement. [ Because it's Verg, he gets something like honesty ] It's a drug that I produced. The vials I keep.

[ The ones he'd had in his room that night. ]

Hah, no, you are right. My method of "fixing" gods tends to be rather permanent as it is. She is furious because I killed one that she knew.

Is the drug really effective if you had to go get vampirized for some power? Or did you not have it yet....?

[But...ah. He remembers the vials. So Silco is...a drug producer?]

You killed a god? Why?

I don't use it beyond my injections. [ "Medication", he'd said. ] I am better suited for backlines than I am for getting up and into the fight. [ A beat. ] And it came after. Of course. LILITH does enjoy the sense of irony.

[ So yes, a drug producer. ]

We were at war, and we were on opposing sides. [ It's a good answer that's a lot more logical than: she tried to be nice to me :( ]

Of course it did. You have the worst luck. You need a rabbit's foot or something.

[Hm. It does make him wonder...he uses it for injections. Is he reliant on it? Addicted to it?]

And you think I would benefit from it. [In what way? He doesn't really feel he needs such a thing. He's already at his own peak.] And...hm. War? Over what?

I have the worst luck? [ Incredulous. To be fair, He thinks of her, of Jinx, and how many times things went wrong. Time, and time again. He doesn't see it, but. Like father like daughter. ] You would be surprised.

[ It's a good thing to wonder about, but hey, it's also probably why he isn't blind in one eye so. ]

I think... it would be something sensational to see, is all. Maybe you could even one-hit a kaiju with it. It's LILITH-approved, after all. It cannot be bad.

[ maybe he just needs to show silco how strong he is without it 😏 ]

The war was... complicated. A world away. Do you remember, when we talked about ending it all? Of pulling it all down?

You've come this far, so maybe there's something there. Perhaps.

[Perhaps, perhaps...while he, himself, hasn't believed in such luck for ages.]

Haaah. I'll believe it when I see it. I'll go without it for now. Find another payment.

[For now...]

...Mm. Yes, of course I do. It was in regards to that?

Hm. I'll make sure you have a front-row seat during the next fight, to see it in action. Maybe you'll change your mind then.

But, until then, we can come to another arrangement. [ this is so yaoi ] What could you want in exchange, hm? [ This is audio, but it's the audio version of him dragging his fingers down his lips and swiveling that eye at him. ]

I killed her as a part of the war, yes. I would have done anything to get to the end of it and win. Anything, and if that meant killing a god, then I would do it again.

...You know. I want for nothing much. Perhaps you can figure something out, with that big brain of yours.

[A little sardonic, here, but his answer is sincere. He's a creature who has eliminated most of his desire, listlessly moving through life for a singular purpose. Things have changed slightly, since coming to Synflux, but...]

[What form would any form of payment come in?]

[He's silent at the mention of the war. Of a vicious fight, and little to no regrets.]

Did you win, though?

[ Good thing he was already thinking of something, but he wanted to hear him say it. ]

You think my brain is big, do you? [ like his fucking ego. ] How about this, then. No payment to you, but perhaps what I would pay you gets donated to those kids orphanages instead?

[ the war, the scab opened... ]

I don't know. I woke up here before we could even learn. I assume, that without some of us there, it will collapse in on itself.

[ And he isn't sure what to think about that. ]

Well, you actually look like you have thoughts. [And.........he's pausing, a litle surprised at the next part. Ah. Well. He would like that, actually.] Mm. You would confirm it? How much?

[Another moment of silence, thoughtful.]

Was it worth it? The war. I assume...it was all for her, wasn't it?

[ See? He pays attention!! ] I would confirm it. A Hundred-thousand Kryptos whenever I need to call on you. More if it's a more... long-term arrangement. I suspect I may need to call on you in the coming months, so working out the details now is for the best.

[ or maybe this is just a way to keep him close, and to nudge him closer in that direction he wants to see him in.

But, Silco hisses, something sharp, with that fervency that always dipped into his voice, when he talked about his daughter, a rare thing, but Vergilius is one of the few who knew. ]

Of course it was for her! It has always been for her. I would do anything I needed to, there's nothing that can get in my way, if it meant she would live.

[~~can't believe he's paying to be his boyfriend what is his life~~]

One hundred thousand...and a long-term, you say. Depends on what you need me to be called in for. Fighting off your favorite butler?

[And...of course, of course, Silco would react that way. He would react that way, which is why his voice is quieter, softer now.]

I wouldn't doubt your devotion. I would do the same, you know.

[ ~~WELL??? it's safer if it's transactional right???~~ ]

Possibly. I don't doubt that he'll make an attempt again. Even intervening if there's a repeat of yesterday. Though, obviously, just being intimidating will do the trick. More importantly, I suspect the locals may make an attempt or two, if things go my way in the next few months.

[ What does THAT mean???

More importantly, though, Silco's favorite subject that isn't revenge and drugs: ]

Hm. Some thought me mad, there, for how I fought. I don't think most of them ever understood why I did what I did.

[ How could they? Silco had been so careful, because he knew the moment someone found out, they would have utterly destroyed her. It left him looking crazed, isolated, and dangerous. ]

.....Silco. [NOW VERY DEADPAN, like seeing a cat about to push off a mug from a table.] What do you possibly mean by that.

[WHAT SHIT ARE YOU GETTING YOURSELF INTO. SIR]

Then again, you probably didn't tell a soul, did you. I know...I haven't. Not when that can be used.

Why, I'm helping to take down the seedy underbelly that rots at the center of Neo-Tokyo. Didn't you know? [ It's also.

It's Silco. There is no way on any planet that he wasn't planning to use this for himself. He literally just admitted to having drugs handy. ]

See, this is why you and I understand each other. That is precisely why I didn't share it. [ Set knew, of course, but the small Canopic Jars in his own room were a testament to why Silco and Set knew about Jinx and Anubis, respectively. They had made a promise, after all, to save each others' children at the end of it. Silco had done everything to save her, down to coordinating her survival even if he failed. ]

I had her soul with me, on my person. The one time I didn't, I nearly lost her to chance.

[ On the day he'd killed a god. ]

Aren't you also the seedy underbelly? Just a different one.

[Like.]

[Let's be real.]

[They understand each other. Yes, they do. Though he wonders what Silco would have to think about the man who barely moved a muscle after the tragedy at the orphanage, who wallowed in his own stagnation and sorrow. He would probably pull him by the ear and tell him he was a failure. In a way, he was. He could've done more. He should've done more.]

[And now, all that's left, is...a young lady, and a gem.]

Her soul? Where did it go?

Am I?

[ The smile in his voice says it all, doesn't it? Of course he is. That's why he'll need his help. ]

Ah... though.

[ He may have, but he may not have. He'd been powerless to stop his daughter from nearly dying too. Too busy bullying chembarons and choking them with the gray to even bother knowing what she was up to, while she'd dealt with enforcers and who knew what else?

She'd been dying in his arms, and he had been desperate. Would Vergilius think less of him, for desperately fighting to end every world out there because none of them would have his daughter in them? Or the fact that apparently, she lives but for the injections of said drug he'd just offered him? ]

It was in a gemstone. Was. Now, I suppose, it is where it belongs.

[ He still keeps it, though. The gemstone. In his room, where it stays safe. ]

[Now that...]

[He's silent for a good long, while. A gemstone. It really can't be. It feels like a slap of fate. A joke of coincidence. He can't find the words to say anything, just yet, but when he does, he sounds hoarse.]

...A child I knew was turned...into a gem. [It feels like he's speaking from a million miles away, lost in time.] At least you...have her back.

[ In the quiet silence, he stepped over to his bedside, to pick up that gem that had meant everything a world away. In Kenos, Jinx had been everything. His only guiding star, the only thing he knew was real. Powers, destruction, none of it mattered. Some believed their worlds had still been out there, but Silco's whole world was right in his hand. Had been in his hand. Now it was inert, and cold. Not even body-temperature like it had been. It still glows, of course, like there was still a spark of life in it.

Isn't it funny? That things seem so cyclical? Day in, and day out? It's always around, and around, and around. ]

They are so fragile, like this. Easy to destroy. [ A soft scoff. ] Was yours safe? Jinx never was like this. I had to flay my very soul to protect her, and it wasn't ever enough.

Now, I don't even truly have her back. She's still —

[ In danger? Manic? Struggling with a sister they'd both thought was gone; a specter that cast an even larger shadow. ]

I don't know if I do.

[ He doesn't even know that he really won't. But maudlin honesty feels appropriate now. It's with a heavy sigh — it's too honest, too dangerous — that he tries to divert. ]

Do you have a chance for yours?

...

[Was yours safe?]

[He handed that young man his sword. He hoped to find him again, and the young man would return his sword back to him. But instead, he came upon that room, and that sword was on the ground.]

[And instead of a young man, there was a gem. A gem called-]

Garnet. [He starts, stops.] That was his name. Many of the children were...named after jewels. And fate seems to like its little jokes.

[The jewel, as blood-red as his eyes, shattered in but a moment. Silco's pain, that desperation, echoes with his.]

I was told there...is a chance to return him back. I entered a contract for it. [Again, feeling distant, though the pain feels just as real as it did so long ago.] I can only...hope. I can only hope.

Garnet. Did you name them? [ there's something about naming them after something precious, but he understood the power of names, of what they meant. Just as he'd let Jinx become herself -- used the derogatory name to twist it to power -- a kid named Garnet... Must have felt... Special? Or like he was one of many?

Fate always seemed to intervene. Make something worthwhile, and precious, only to smatch it away. How many times had that happened? For either of them?]

I'm apparently not the only fool who contracted for their children.

[ Well. Silco's odd desperation had warped him, made it all bleed together. Had it been that, or had it been the hands around his neck, choking the life out of him yet again? ]

What was the price? What do you have to give up, for them to live again?

No, I...there were caretakers at the orphanage. I handed them off to them.

[He tried to not be in their lives, but...]

[Failed. He failed at that. He brought groceries. He played games. He read them stories. They looked up to him. And no matter what he did, he couldn't stay away.]

Children are...everything. The light, the roots, to...bring change to a wretched, unforgiving world. [But that world ate them alive. In the end, that world couldn't exist anymore.] The price was...subservience. It's complicated. But I am made to act as a guide, now, for a certain Company. I cannot act as I wish to.

Edited 2024-11-20 04:55 (UTC)

Were you close to them, then?

[ Handing them off? Maybe that's why he had so many, but Silco couldn't imagine not raising his daughter. She had been his, after... everything that had happened. Every loss had led him to her. Everything. ]

Are you forced to continue your work in their name here?

[ He would hate it. Working for someone else, subservience. Though...

If it was required? ]

I would do the same if I had to.

I tried not to be. I was the cause of their misfortune, after all.

[The key word is "tried". In the end, he failed. He always fails. In the end, a monster can have a bleeding heart that still aches with guilt.]

Mm. Well, they aren't breathing down my necks. I suppose I still have some insights to share with my subordinates in my role as guide. [But....] ...I'm...glad you understand.

You were the cause? Because of what happened? Or before...

[ before the great gem-ening? Was he truly the cause? Did he blame himself? Did he know that even in this, Silco understood him? ]

Vergilius, of everything, I do understand that. A contract? To get them back? [ He had done just that. More than just the one with Sebastian, really. Over and over, and over. He would do it as many times as he had to. ] There is no choice, is there?

...

[A long, long pause. And then, he recites his truth dully. His terrible truth.]

In the line of my work, I have killed many people. Those people were not simply...standalone evildoers. Many had families. Some...left behind children.

[...]

I, who sliced their parent's throats, ripped them away whatever life they had, brought them to the orphanage and gave them my care. As if that could...make up for anything. As if that could repay a lifetime of sin.

[And now, another haggard sigh, but its pained - this is his bleeding heart, exposed, the very thing that drowns in its own misery. Why did he, a killer, have this much regret? This much guilt? He shouldn't. And yet he does.]

In the end...there is no choice. I will do what has to be done. Come hell, or high water.

[ Hah.

Silco shakes a little bit on his end, because it's almost funny. It's almost painfully, heinously funny. Of all the people, of all the things to hear, it's this? ]

There is no such thing as a standalone evildoer, neither is there such a thing as a true saint. If you hadn't done it, would someone else have? Would your hand be the only one on the blade, or was yours the better option? If not for the parents, then for their children? Did they resent you for it? It sounds like they did not.

[ He sees his guilt for what it is. (Silco no...) It nestles in his heart, a killer's heart, and it makes him feel bad for doing what was necessary. How much does he punish himself for this? How much should he punish himself for it? What good was guilt in a cruel world that took no matter who twisted the blade?

And does he know? Does he know just how similar this is? That... ]

Have I told you how she became my daughter? [ The soft chuff of his laugh is bitter. This is not a funny matter, but... If he didn't laugh, what was there left? ] It's soaked in as much blood as each of yours.

...They didn't know. To them, I was simply...me. They should've known.

[And yet he, coward, kept on his little precious life with them even as his own internal axe constantly asked for his own head for it. In one of those visions of another version of their world he had back then, one of those "dots", Lapis had stabbed him in the back. And he had welcomed it.]

[Silco laughs, and it comes from a bitter, sunken place. He draws towards it instinctively, so wondering of more similarities.]

[Its like Silco is fated to slot with him like a puzzle piece no matter what.]

No. You didn't.

Would it have made it better for them?

[ It's a bit too... direct, perhaps. Though he knew that children were... irrational little creatures as a whole. (Silco, your daughter is Jinx.) How much did he feel guilt for something that was inevitable? Could he teach him to stop this? To learn to love the spark of violence that lurks in the hearts of all men? Could he help him slough it off, to be the monster that he should be? He wants to.

More than that, he wants to tell him this secret, something so few knew about — a deep, sharp little thing. That thing under his skin, the secret drowned at the bottom of the river — would he listen? Would he hate him for it like he had been before? Could he be understood? Could there be a beast as cruel as he was? That could understand him, his desperate clawing?

Does he want to be?

He opens his mouth, to continue. His eyes snap to the shadows.

He cannot hear anything in his rooms. The shadows are too long. They are too dark. He could turn on his lights, but then the shadows will be harder to find. Conceal what's still there. What if he's still here? He didn't doubt the power of — ]

Hm. This isn't...

[ a few minutes later: knock knock ]

[Would it? Could it? Maybe it's just his selfish wish. His own crucifixion that he deserves, by their hands. The children would realize, and would spit on him, act in revenge. He wouldn't move a muscle. A fitting end for him, at the hands of those lives he ruined.]

...I don't know.

[He doesn't know. A part of him has been too afraid to say otherwise. Selfish, so selfish. He's his own judge, jury, and executioner, but he has yet to give himself a proper sentence.]

[Silco falls silent on the other end. He blinks, waiting for a reply, and-]

[A knock.]

[He stands to answer the door, and there he is. The man himself.]

Hah? [Yeah, this is a bit unexpected.] Silco. What are you doing here?

[ He's just a bit off, in the doorway. Small, without the large coat, and more casual clothes. A little too harried, his eyes look both directions, like he's trying to make sure that he isn't seen in the hallway, or maybe looking for danger. It's hard to say, it's so quick.

He gestured down the hallway. ]

Doesn't it feel stupid having a conversation when you're just a few doors down?

[ In a room where he's sure the demon is still infesting. Trying to find something important. He could do it, he could watch. Silco knew he had the tricks up his sleeve, the little ways he can hear and see everything. He knew where Silco stayed, now, and he knew he wouldn't capitulate. He had his life, but that didn't mean that he was safe.

He knew better. ]

Especially if we're talking about...

[ Their kids. ]

[He is off. This feels wrong from the get-go - Silco always carried himself with a certainty even in the face of larger threats. Here, he's smaller, more aware of himself in a strange way. No, this feels different than a man simply led into bittersweet reminiscence. There's something restless, here, and Vergilius actually moves his head forward to cast his gaze down the hallway, as if expecting some shadow to be tacked onto the wall.]

....Mm.

[And now, he's looking back at the man, eyebrows twisting down with a confused frown.]

It may be stupid, yes. [A beat.] What's wrong, Silco?

[ Another long pause.

Perhaps this was stupid. (It was.) Finally: ]

I don't trust that the shadows are not listening.

[ He does not know fear anymore — he does not fear anything — but he does not dare utter something that could be used against him right now where he thinks there could be a...remnant of the demon left. He'd encompassed his room, he'd swallowed all the light, was it so foolish to think that he would leave something behind, to make sure he held to the letter of a spoken-contract?

He straightened and looked him in the eye. A tip of his head, a twitch of his lips. Fear could only do so much to stifle Silco. ]

Are you going to let me in, or not?

...

[Maybe he didn't see an actual shadow, but looks like he wasn't far off on his guess. Shadows may listen. Whatever happened with Sebastian somehow pierced to his core. He has no idea what the butler is, but...]

[This is a man who was pushed to a corner if he ever saw one.]

[He sighs as if reluctant, but he is moving back at the same time, to give the man space to move.]

....Fine. No shadows here.

[When he does enter, he will find....a rather unimpressive room. Bluntly normal, with disheveled sheets, scattered belongings. Nothing personal here. A room lived in, but it isn't alive.]

You can take a seat.

[He gestures to the bed. He has a chair, but its as plain as it gets. Probably more comfortable for that first choice.]

[ It's... about as spartan as Silco's is, really. Minus the drama of the medications and drugs, his was no more personable than Silco's is. Though, he's been here longer, hasn't he?

Once the door is closed, he relaxed slightly, that cantankerous old arrogance suffusing back into him, like the spark of paranoia can be buried back underneath. It's more vulnerable than he'd like. He won't admit it, and certainly won't voice how truly powerless he is; the stark reminder doing more to harden it into his soul, when a world before, he'd thought he could do anything. He could. Now... well.

He sat. Though...

His eyes focused on him for a long moment. Maybe because he's thinking about how to start the conversation again; or maybe...

Finally: ]

I killed him, you know. Her father.

[ The opening line to that horrible tale. ]

[He waits, patiently, for Silco to begin. He himself leans against the wall, arms folded, waiting. His gaze holds steady, red as anything.]

[That line brings no reaction. No horror, no shock, no disgust.]

And why would you do something like that?

[His tone is almost bordering on casual - after all, he himself just confessed to killing many before. Fathers, mothers, parents. All have ended by his hand.]

[One father by Silco's hand pales to it, by quantity alone.]

[ Well, he didn't expect that to shock him, frankly. Though he seemed to feel guilt for his own murders, he's suspected that the man understood that this was the way of things. That murders happened. In the undercity, after all, it was just. It was normal. Routine.

Nothing. ]

Why? [ There it was. He looked at him, that unblinking eye still boring into him.]

I planned it. I spent years orchestrating it so I could stab him with the knife I stole from him the day he gave me this. [ He tapped it, two fingers to the scar on his face, below the eye. ]

There's nothing more dangerous than someone who knows you best, after all. It's a lesson I had to learn, and one I was happy to teach in return.

[ As if the thought of Silco being close to anyone was likely. ]

I see. The sordid path of revenge. An eye for an eye.

[So, it seems Silco had a man to blame, and hunted that man to sate sweet vengeance. It makes sense. Silco was that type of man - he can see him tending to his grudges like pets, or plants in a garden. He wouldn't let them simply slide by.]

[He tilts his head, staring into that wide, unblinking eye.

Why did he give you that in the first place?

[What was the sin that catalyzed this whole chain reaction to occur?]

[ That bitter little laugh again. A chuff of it. Why? When he'd been younger, when it was fresh and new, he'd asked that over and over again. Why had it happened? Why had he been the one to bear the stains of their guilt? Why did he also have to die? Why had he finally had to let go of everything he was, to leave it to drift to the bottom of the river? Why had he been discarded like yesterday's refuse?

It had never been fair. Wasn't that what their lots in life were?]

Oh, that's where it gets interesting.

We got her parents killed. [ Were his hands stained with blood? Or was he just drowning in it? ]

My plan, of course. My fault.

[ So he was to blame, clearly. He had never blamed himself in full -- but he'd never had the opportunity to. Guilt couldn't roost where betrayal had dug a bigger hole for hatred and fury to be settle. ] Supposedly.

I don't understand. You said you killed her father. If we are talking about the same girl...

[Confused, he dips his head a little, eyebrows furrowing.]

I guess your plan didn't plan for that. Did it?

Come now, Vergilius. Your kids were in an orphanage, weren't they? Is it a stretch to think that someone would swoop in and take responsibility, if they felt enough guilt to kill someone they'd called brother?

[ Tried to kill, anyway. ]

I knew it had been a possibility. I was foolish, perhaps, thinking that a pack of Trenchers would be little more than an annoyance to swat down. [ A tip of his head. ]

A mistake I intended not to repeat.

So you can feel a spot of regret in that blackened coal heart of yours. Who knew.

[Not even said judgmentally, but almost matter-of-factly. Here is Silco. Even at the end of everything, he's as human as the rest of them. For better and for worse.]

[A little sigh, a shift of his head causing his bangs to fall in front of those unnatural gem-like eyes of his.]

And how did she come to you, after your bloody deed was done? Did you swoop in and take responsibility?

[ His put upon sigh rattles through a smoker's lungs. ]

A shame, isn't it? That I'm not nearly as reprehensible as one may think? Everything I've done has been for either that dream, or Jinx.

[ But what would happen if he had to choose? ]

Did you know, his entire pack of children came to save him? All but her. They had left her behind, because she was... [ Well... ] Her namesake.

They're dead. [ He held up a finger. ] Before you blame me, understand, I had no interest in the children. I took him only.

[ But Zaunites were built different. ]

I found her afterward. Crying by his body. She'd blown them up. All of them except her sister, who tossed her aside for trying to do what she thought would help.

[ There's that bitter little laugh again. Like father, like daughter. In every way possible. ]

[This is...a lot to process.]

[Jinx, he says. Like her namesake, he says. It seems children are named after what they are, what they will be. A gem of a boy becomes a hardened jewel. A girl named after disaster provides as such.]

[He takes it in, doesn't answer for a good long moment.]

Blown them up....how? What was she trying to do, Silco, that ended in such tragedy?

Why, she was trying to save him with one of her inventions, of course. A bomb.

[ He can't help it, there's pride in his voice. Say what you will About Silco's abysmal parenting skills, but he was proud of his daughter. ]

She torched my entire factory with it.

She was always brilliant, even as a child.

A bomb.

[Trying to save them all with the very thing that took away their lives.]

[He can't even begin to imagine what a child like that would feel. And now, that brings him to the question:]

Did you tell her...what you did?

That I put a knife in his back?

[ It was Silco, after all. It would never have been fair. But also... vander is frankly huge. So. Can anyone blame him?]

Yes, of course. She was well aware of who I was and what I had done, but it didn't stop her from reaching out to me.

[ A beat. ]

It's why I'm surprised that you didn't tell your kids what you did.

...

[He opens his mouth, closes his mouth. Those vivid eyes cloud over a little as he casts it down at the floor. Why didn't he tell them? It's a good question, and one that he brushed aside, again and again.]

[He grimaces.]

...I suppose...I was too happy with that pretend scenario. Where I was simply a caretaker. I didn't...want to be hated. As much I knew I deserved to be.

Didn't want to be hated? By them? Others?

[ He leaned back slightly, an arm behind him to keep him up. He looked him up and down with that unwavering, eerie gaze of his own.

He's probably the wrong person to admit to being hated to. Silco has accepted being hated, and hating in turn. It's the way of things. It's the only way to live, to survive. Is to not care about what others think. Not worry about who hates you because of a few acts. ]

Why do you think you deserve it? Because you're a killer?

...I sought a sort of redemption in them, perhaps. A hope for the future. My garden to tend in a world that deserved to be razed.

[Again, those same thoughts come forth, unbidden, like a beating heart:]

[Since when did I begin to experience that feeling called guilt?
Since when did I lose the place where I could let my head down? No longer do I have the strength to move. Only now do I realize that this life of playing house may have been my final struggle to protect my soul, to stop the guilt from consuming me.
Because I know that the place I'm bound for will be too much for me.]

[He shakes his head, a hand moving up to brush through some of his bangs, back over his head.]

I hate that City. But in turn my sins keep the blood flowing that keeps it alive. In the end, I have perpetuated...too much to be forgiven.

Hm. [ He watches him brush his bangs back, leaving him under that constant, unwavering gaze. ]

I always thought that raising a child in a place so cruel was an act of defiance. To make something despite the filth that trickles down to consume everything, swallow us in all of its misery.

[ It's funny, how similar their stories are, their cities. Certainly, Vergilius has killed more than him directly, but he does not doubt that shimmer and his quest for full control of the undercity was a path of blood as well. Worthwhile blood, blood spilled for the cause, but blood nonetheless. Was it because there was a reason for what he did, that he did not feel guilt? Had he been a different man — the man he'd been back then — would he feel that same guilt settling like a too-heavy blanket?

Could he find a way to ease it? What good was guilt, if it served no purpose? What good did it serve? What point did it have? ]

Do you need to be? [ He asked, finally, a long moment of consideration, watching him, thinking. Like those gears turning in his head. ] If you had resisted, or been a different person, would the City be different?

Or would it have found a crueler man than you to fill its place?

...I thought it was an act of defiance, too.

[But that last part. Now there's a thought. He glances up at that, a little surprised. Because yes, there could always be someone to take his place. Someone with a pitch-black heart who was unaware of the sea of blood.]

[Does he need to be forgiven? No, not especially. But it is about his own world, his own paradoxically selfish soul. He is the perpetrator of hell for himself and everyone around him.]

[He scoffs.]

You know, I'm one of the cruelest there is. A monster who feels remorse is worse, you know.

Edited 2024-11-23 04:54 (UTC)

I know.

[ He doesn't disagree. How could he, when he knew what kind of a monster came from someone who felt remorse for what they did? Who knew it was wrong, but did it anyway?

But was it wrong? That's what he wanted to know. Was it wrong to kill? Did he feel remorse because he felt that killing was wrong — or because the guilt made it easier? What would he be without that guilt? Would he be a monster, or just a man? He wished he could turn him inside out, and see what was inside, what made him like this. ]

Do you think that bothers me? [ Ah, but perhaps... ] How does a man like you end up in this predicament?

[ He can't imagine anyone forcing his hand. ]

Edited 2024-11-23 05:50 (UTC)

It's not about you, Silco. I could care less if it did.

[He says, both chiding and said out of a little exhaustion. This man does want to pull him apart. He has to keep reminding himself of that, lest he only follow his own emotions to feel like they're on the same level.]

[This man turned him into a vampire. He has to pinch himself with that fact time and time again.]

...I can't give you some nice neat answer. And even if I could, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.

[ Despite being so spooked in the hallway, Silco only stared at him in that odd way he did, silent for a long moment, his two-toned gaze evaluating. Like he was reading the situation, or trying to read something out of him.

He does want to pull him apart. That hasn't changed. If anything, knowing more just makes him more curious, more driven to get his bony fingers beneath his skin and tug him open. Like he's looking to crack him open to find the meat inside to pull it out and reshape him.

All he had to do was let him.]

So? Don't give me the neat answer. If I were interested in tidy stories, would I tell you mine, raw wound as it is?

[ Devoid of context though it was, but still, he pushed, not swayed by being brushed off. Sorry, Vergilius, he has the scent of you now.]

I don't have a non-neat answer for you either.

[~~sometimes the specifics of your backstory are still obscure sorry silco the story is cucking you~~]

[But Silco's insistence brushes over him roughly, and his lip pulls back. A mark of aggrievance. He will resist him, no matter what. He has to.]

[This man can't control him, shouldn't control him, even though...he fails more often than not.]

All I will say is that I made a promise to an old friend a long time ago, when these eyes weren't red. A promise to make a paradise. Perhaps that's the reason. I won't share any more to sate your appetite. But to answer your question directly...I don't know when this guilt started.

Hah.

[ It's not really a laugh. It's that same bitter little thing, seeing that way their two pieces fit together, two stories that were both so different, and yet time and time again they kept finding places where they matched up. Synced.

It’s what keeps drawing him in, to find those odd spaces where two different puzzles could be linked together, if they compared the way they would line up. Like a story that matched up just enough would make it all that much easier to peel understanding out of him.]

Promises like that cut as much as they build, don't they? [ Again, that unblinking gaze meets his. So his eyes weren't always that color?

What a curious thing. What a curious man he was. ]

And yet. Paradise, a new nation, it doesn't matter what it is, does it? There is always something that seems to get in the way. No matter what we promise.

...Yes. There always is. The world hinders where it can. Especially in a cruel one.

[Its like fighting against the tide. Sink or swim. And even swimming can take you too far.]

[To achieve the paradise he wanted, he would have to be the biggest monster of them all.]

[He meets his gaze, something a little harder in them now.]

...What did you promise, Silco?

[ That's what it took, though, wasn't it? It wasn't kindness, camaraderie, or even community building that did it. Nothing but that base violence, a shock to the system violent enough that there would be no coming back. Change did not happen slowly, or gradually. He knew that better than anyone.

He met his eyes right back, that old, unblinking stare — that pit of an eye looks like pooling toxins in dark water. ]

Freedom, a nation of our own. Maybe not paradise, but... [ A small shrug of one shoulder. ] As close as a bunch of Trenchers could get.

[ It would have been enough. Even just that. ]

I still haven't given up on it.

Edited 2024-11-23 22:45 (UTC)

Of course you haven't. That wouldn't be like you if you did.

[Because as much as he knows Silco, the man is determined to a fault. A creature of skin and bones ready to bite the throats of anyone who stood in his way. Only great tragedy could create a thing like that. A man like that.]

[His eye is inhuman. Vergilius doesn't say his own eyes are even more so, literally.]

...Would you die for your dream?

Hm.

[ He's not wrong, at least.

He doesn't look away at the question itself, but they look his face over, darting as if he's looking for a spot of weakness, or maybe just a way in which he falters, even slightly. He doesn't find it, so he meets his eyes again. ]

If I thought it necessary, of course. [ He didn't think it would be. ] Wouldn't you?

I would. But only when I have succeeded. If you die before anything has been accomplished...

[A pause. The red moves downwards, but there's a bite of anger to it. No, he would rage. He would do so until he could confirm that paradise, as horrible as it may be.]

Then what would be the point?

[ Verg, you literally can't say stuff like that to him. what the heck. ]

[ He was fighting too, but more than that, he understood. A fight like this required a monster, a beast willing to fight tooth claw and nail to make it there. No, there were no easy victories to be found, or compromises to be made. If it could be achieved, it would be paid for in blood. If blood was needed to flood the streets, power the engines, or even drown those that refused to make it happen?

Then blood it would take. A twitch of his lips. He respects him for that. ]

There wouldn't be one.

Give up everything for nothing? It's a poor deal, isn't it? You don't seem the type to make poor ones.

No, it would be an insult.

[See, this is the pitfall. Silco sees this, and understands. Explicitly, implicitly.]

[Silco can be a mirror sometimes, and it scares him, how well the reflection fits. The love for a child, the willingness to commit atrocity after atrocity without end.]

[He sighs, and it sounds like it belongs to someone who has lived through a thousand lifetimes. In a sense, maybe he has.]

So you see. You have to keep...following the flow. To its bitter end. Without rest. Without...obstacle. No matter whose death unfolds before me...I have resolved to walk down this path.

No matter what it takes?

[ It's rhetorical. He shifted on his bed, leaned forward. His hands clasped before him, resting his elbows on his long, skinny legs. He looked smaller like that, but he didn't lack for intensity, even like this. Even small, almost turning in on himself. ]

No matter what the price?

[ He understands, in some way. Vergilius says he feels guilt, and perhaps he does. Does that make it bearable? The sacrifice needed? Perhaps it does. Perhaps without it his shoulders would cave from the weight. Perhaps he hasn't had everything truly ripped out from him fully yet.

Maybe he never would. Maybe Silco would try, to see the monster inside. Does it weaken him, this guilt? Does it stay his hand? (Silco, it should be noted, lacks the self-reflection to think that this would also keep him alive.) ]

We called it the base violence necessary for change. Without the fire, you cannot build something from the ashes. Without the wreckage, you cannot find growth in the rubble.

I know.

[He knows. That's why that voice had told him as much. That his "paradise" would ask for more blood than he had ever spilled in his entire life. Could he be strong enough for such a path? He was ready for it. Until a young woman came to him, holding a brilliant red gem...]

[He was close. Too close. And it terrifies him, perhaps, deep down, that he's capable of such a thing. But it would need to be done. If his children could not be saved....]

[Then that would be that.]

[Silco understood that, too.]

I know, Silco. I told you as much, before. In that maze.

[ Vergilius likes to take the wind out of his sails when it comes to his monologues. At least Jinx listens do them. And does the 'hand talking' thing but w/e ]

I know.

[ His eyes shift to the rest of the room, and then back to him. That felt longer ago than he would care to admit. When he'd... hm. Been so bold as to hold his hand, talking about ending the world. The possibility of such destruction still fresh in his mind, a nascent possibility that withered and died on the vine. ]

Do you think you will find it? The end of all of your fighting?

[ Was he tired? Silco refused to think of himself as tired, or worn. Would Vergilius? ]

Is it nearly in your hands, yet?

...I took on that contract for more than just those children, you know.

[He was tired, but....it was more of a weariness of the City.]

[Tired about his goal? The effort he would need to get there? No.]

[Not a chance.]

I'm not close, but...as we descend into the Inferno...I hope that flow of mine will lead me true.

Did you? [ He sounded surprised.

This was where they differed, he supposed. When push came to shove, Silco knew what he would choose. When push came to shove, when he had to make a choice...

He hadn't cared about Zaun, in Kenos. It had been nothing when compared to his daughter. He would never have fought to bring it back without her.

Were his goals in alignment? He wondered... ]

What would you do... if your flow led you to an intersection? The paradise you want to build, or... them?

Edited 2024-11-24 05:55 (UTC)

Them.

[As automatic as anything. Not even any hesitation.]

I did reach that crossroads. I was ready to move forward, but...

[His gaze dips to his own feet, welled with sorrow.]

She appeared, barely the same person she had been before because of the experiments she had been put through. And in her hands, she held up a brilliant red gem. Both of them, changed forever, and....my heart moved. It was like a lighthouse...a single moment of hope. And I have followed it for the chance they may return to me again.

[ The answer doesn't surprise him, but he doesn't know what to make of it.

It's the same answer he would give, of course. He knew that now, from the world before, from the times he had been asked, time and time again: if you cared so much about your city, why let it be destroyed now? It had been because there wasn't a choice at all.

But then, did that make Vergilius as much a monster as he? Or did it make Silco more like him? Or was there no comparison in the end? They were just men who had wanted to save something precious, and had already learned that if there was a choice to be had, they would choose the same? ]

I hope I never have to make that choice again.

[ He will. We know he will. It'll damn him, but he'll still make it. ]

I cannot imagine doing anything but the same.

[...]

[He finally dislodges from his place on the wall to drift over to the man who sits on his bed, all bones and skin, weathered and scarred.]

[And reaches forward, his hand curling over the other's shoulder.]

So we move down our road through hell. [A pause, weighted.] Whatever comes...we know what we will choose. And no one can take that from us.

[ He looked up at him, once they were close.

He did not ask for sympathy, or relief from his guilt — in the same way that Silco did not expect anyone to understand what it was that he did. Who he did it for. He did not need people to understand him.

But it didn't feel... wrong, to know that were he to make that choice, there was a mirror somewhere that would do the same. That there was someone else that would let the lot of it burn, were it needed. That everyone else — everyone — fell short.

He reached up, his fingers curled around his hand, resting on top of it. ]

No, they can't, can they?

[ Monsters, perhaps. Guilty monsters, vengeful monsters, but monsters. They would always become that which they needed to, wouldn't they? ]

They've already tried to take everything else, but this, at least, they cannot.

[He chose this path. He solidified himself into it. He was but a colossus, trudging along to the inevitable end. All for them.]

[And if anyone got in his way...]

[Well.]

[Silco would feel the same way. What a mirror he has. The man's hand rests on his, and he feels the light weight of it, the warmth, sink in for a moment.]

[A moment, and his other hand moves to shift around the back of the man's neck to pull him in close, a semblance of an embrace. Even monsters deserve something like this, perhaps.]

Nothing can. Over our dead bodies.

[ Wasn't it funny, that there was someone else who understood and knew what it was to be in such a predicament? Who had already fully, and honestly committed? To know that there was nothing in this world, in any world, that was more important? That fighting, truly fighting, was the only way to make the world for them? Oh, he didn't doubt that Vergilius was a monster — just as he was.

He wondered what had made the man this way, of course. He knew his own story, his own path. That he'd let that weak man he'd once been float to the bottom of the River Pilt, to settle with the rest of the bodies of their fallen comrades. Just another one at the bottom of the river.

But he still felt something — had not embraced his monstrosity just yet, had he? It was there, and it seemed to leak out of the seams of him, when he was focused and clear. Then later, did it crash down? Was this his guiding star, when the weight of it became too much?

It's something like an embrace, between them. Pulled close, it is such a rarity. It isn't comfort, not really. There is still that part in the back of his head, that whispers little promises, threats, reminders. This is the way of danger; but there is no Jinx to protect here, she will be safe in the end. There is no world to end, nobody to betray him for the good of anyone else. No soul to steal and shatter and ruin every little sacrifice he'd already plunged into his own personal furnace to flare the fires of destrudction. They are just monsters, with no aim or purpose but to participate long enough to see their worlds returned, so they can dismantle them.

Monsters were always dangerous, but perhaps... perhaps to one another they are more mirror than monster, in the end. ]

And damn them if they try, hm?

[ It is muffled, the way his head is pressed against him. He wonders if this is supposed to be for him — or for Vergilius? Or does it even matter, in the end? ]

I would enjoy watching you show them precisely the misstep they have made, if they were to try to take it from you.

[ Silco was a violent, cruel man, but he worked through proxies. Purchased and hired help and loyalty. He thinks Vergilius would cut them down with the violent, angry swings of that sword of his. It would be little more than they deserved. ]

And damn them if they try.

[This embrace solves nothing. It doesn't ease the soul, doesn't quell worries. It won't solve either of their situations. It won't raise the dead. It won't reverse all their bad decisions. In the moment, perhaps its meaningless.]

[But he does it, because perhaps it may do nothing. But perhaps it stands as small reminder, a little flag in the hill of their corpses.]

[It says "I'm here. You're here. We both exist. Out there, there's someone like you. Perhaps you should hold onto that."]

[Silco speaks into his chest with that little remark - and Vergilius can't help but let out an amused little noise, his fingers curling a little around the back of his head.]

You would enjoy that? My, my. That eager to see how I fight, are you? You almost sound like the many fans all the Colors have at home. Perhaps I should get you some merch for the fun of it.

[ It's odd. Knowing that there is someone else out there, that would be like this. That would understand exactly what a harsh, cruel world requires to make change, what it is to take that circumstance, and bend it and force it into place. With violence, subjugation, drugs, or contracts, it didn't matter. What mattered was the goal, that change — but was there anyone else who could understand what it was to give up on it, would turn it aside or walk away and let it rot in its own misery, if it meant...

How odd. To know that there is someone else out there like him. Monsters circling one another and finding... what? Solace? It isn't comfort.

Understanding, perhaps. They'd promised it, between blood and bites, in that darkened hallway half a world away. Was that not what this was? Understanding? Was it — or could it — be more than that? ]

Fans? No, a grouchy old man like you has fans?

[ His thumbnail scraped against one of the scars on his hand, like he was trying to split him open. Even in this semblance of comfort, there were still the sharp edges, awkward and uncomfortable. ]

I just enjoy watching a professional work, is that so wrong?

Oh, do I.

[It does seem funny, being outside of it, but the attention is too much, aggravating, and far more than he deserves for being Best Killer of All Time One of Many Number Ones.]

[That's just how the City is. Murder and death are so part of its tapestry that in order to even cut down on it, one has to take an axe to it to begin with. Ironic, really. Silco would understand. That's the point, isn't it? Understanding. They whispered that, body to body, blood in each other's mouths.]

[The simple gentleness of hand in hand seems so far away now, and yet so, so close.]

I'm practically like a bonafide celebrity to some. I don't want to even get into the forum discussions...

[The nail tickles - he knows its a reminder that this isn't something soft, but he somehow doesn't mind it, either way. Maybe he's too used to things like this. His very being was molded on it. Maybe that's why it couldn't work with Malkuth, even as aware as they were of their City. He wasn't made for something sweet.]

Would you say that to any other professional, I wonder? Or just little old me?

[ A Celebrity? It's almost funny, Silco wonders what it would be like, in that city. It isn't so unknown, that people would be fans of a powerful killer — some of the more successful Pit Fighters seem to do well enough, well known and regarded — and it isn't like Silco doesn't have his own form of...notoriety. The concept isn't even alien to him, but he supposed he hadn't really thought of Vergilius as that.

He just didn't have the air of it. He didn't carry himself with the arrogance that he'd expected. ]

How funny. I can imagine they speculate about you, don't they? Rumors are always so tiring.

[ Another scrape at his scar, it isn't painful — he doesn't have ability to — but he picks at it regardless. It feels right, more like something that he can open up, so he can put his hooks in him. ]

And what if it is only you? Can you even think of anyone else quite as capable?

[ Maybe it was the violence in him, but Silco had been on the other side of his hands, when he'd wrapped his fingers around his neck, when he'd tried to fight him off. He knew he could kill him with a squeeze, if he wanted. Maybe he liked seeing that turned around on someone else. Maybe he just liked watching violence be spilled in his name, or at his direction. Or maybe... well. There was no need to think about any other reasons, was there? ]

[Wait until he tells you about the Actual Superheroes, Silco, that will really throw your head in a loop. But its true. He's not the type who wants to revel in fame if he can help it. He shirks it completely.]

[Silco keeps scratching at him, as if to pick a piece of skin to unravel him like peeling a skin of an apple. Let him try. As if its so simple.]

[One woman saw to his core. A voice that seemed to offer so many answers. Silco would probably not hold a candle to that being who found him at his lowest, skewered him through, and still couldn't give him a satisfying way out.]

...An interesting question. [He says, a little distantly. Time to surprise the man, just a little.] Some of my fellow Colors could give you a hair-raising experience. I'm not as graceful or beautiful in my approach as some. Some of them wield powers beyond my wildest dreams.

[But he knows why Silco says that, and his hand presses at the back of his head to make him turn his head up, just a little, so he can look down, eyes to eyes]

I think its not about capability. You just like seeing me in action.

Edited 2024-11-28 05:30 (UTC)

[ It doesn't have to be simple — if anything, the fact that it's not an immediate give, but that there's something at the core of it, that's what keeps him going — if getting to the center of him was easy, Silco wouldn't bother. Capitulation is for the weak, and the boorish. No, he picks away at him, bit by bit. Patience was his strong suit — despite the occasional flare of anger — he didn't need to see him give it up.

In fact, wasn't it more interesting if he didn't? If he made him look through it and work, like a miner still stuck in the fissures, hunting for those rare, precious nuggets of interest, to pull them out and bring them to the surface? Could he find a King's Ransom somewhere inside of him, to pull out and bring out to admire if he so wished?

He doesn't think he'll be disappointed with what he finds. ]

Anyone here?

[ He asks with a snide little tilt of his head. They both knew the truth. Vergilius was right. He doesn't doubt him, of course, even here. He's seen powers beyond his wildest dreams and nightmares — one of which had just done so, made him itching to be out of his room and somewhere else. Here seemed better than most. ]

I suppose it doesn't matter. [ He has the audacity to smile when he meets his eyes. That sharp little knife's edge of a smile. ] Is it so wrong if I did?

...Perhaps there is someone who could best me here. Would you even care to know?

[Silco looks up at him like so - like a smug little cat with a few feathers around its mouth from the disappeared pet bird. It unnerves him, it aggravates him, it-]

[No, he can't ignore it, really. A part of him is fond. This horrible example of a man, who violated him with taking away control over him, and yet, even so, there's a softer pang in his telltale heart.]

Hrm. [And his hand slides to give the man's ear a little yank, half teasing, half scolding. He can't stop the smirk that crawls onto his face, more amused than he has any right to be.] If you did, maybe I should say you're a little obsessed with me.

[ That sharp little smile doesn't fade, like the feral cat that found one little mouse to play with, batting it around like it's a toy to bandy about, pushing this way and that. His eyes look him up and down — well, as best that they can with the proximity — before he rolled a small shrug, more animated than it should given where his hands were, and how close he was. Somehow, this close he still manages to talk with his hands in that odd way. ]

Wouldn't you care to know? The only way to neutralize a threat is to be aware of it first, after all.

[ Silco always thought like this, even now. It would be no surprise, that the man who had somehow snuck a bite at him, somehow had him on the floor despite his diminutive size and lack of powers would be the conniving type. Wasn't it the only way to survive, to take advantage? To find who was who, then find their weaknesses, and then tear them apart. It was power, that he sought, after all. Power was the only way to keep one alive.

He winced, and tipped his head, his single eye closed. It's not truly painful, as evidenced but the soft scoff, his open eye met his even still. ]

You would say obsessed, I would say invested. After all, if I'm going to try and hire you occasionally, wouldn't that be the wisest course of action?

[ Silco really can justify anything in that twisted little maze of a mind of his. He would have watched him anyway, of course. After all, he'd watched him kill once. That was enough to pique his curiosity — his interest. That cat's grin doesn't fade. ]

If the threat has a problem with me, yes. But then again, I get along with some people. Unlike you.

[Silco feels like that sort of man who could never get along with most. Introverted, stuck in his own little world. Then again, maybe he used to be different. Perhaps the smug little creature he knows now used to be bright-eyed and innocent.]

[Its hard to imagine. Even more so when Silco says something like that, with as much preening confidence as a peacock.]

You say this like you're deciding still.

[But...]

[His fingers brush through the man's hair before holding over the side of his face, firm, keeping his gaze right where he is. He drones out a question, more curious than anything:]

Let's say I never talk to you again. Would you be alright with that? You would move on, right?

[ Would it surprise Vergilius to know that there was a time when smiles reached his eyes, or that there was hope that lurked in that black pit of his heart? That his secret truth, this crime he whispered to him is exactly the one that broke him into all of those little pieces, and that he'd come back wrong, like a broken ghost with a mismatched eye and all jagged edges and sharp corners. A black heart with only drive, cause, and revenge left — at least until a little girl hugged him in the rain, broken in the same way, all those little pieces he could put back together just so.

Silco was not one to share the truth of it. Few knew of what happened to him, even fewer knew the weight of it, and what it truly meant. Even Vergilius — being gifted with a rare prize from Silco, honesty — perhaps had not been given the true scope of it.

But he'd been given enough. Enough that the question causes his fingers to twitch against whatever scar he'd started to pick at, a flash of something in his eyes that was...

Sharp, violent... something else too. The smile stayed, even the flash of an expression was only there momentarily. Brief, violent, before it melds back underneath the veneer. ]

I'm afraid you're rather stuck with me now. [ There's an edge there, even though his expression still looks like the cat that got the cream.

It's also the cat that can see the bird trying to escape his trap. ] After all, understanding was what you were interested in, and that comes with shared... secrets, doesn't it? [ His fingers relax against a scarred hand, and drag across the length of a scar instead. ] I know that I wouldn't want to let someone who knew certain... truths just left... out in the world, with that knowledge and no connection anymore.

[ His eyes seemed to focus on him, sharp. ] Would you?

[He half expects this sort of answer - but it does partially surprise him. That vitriol in his eyes, that brief little look of it hiding, waiting to be sprung like a trap. No, Silco is a parasite. He has wormed in, fed on his blood, and now resists the very notion of being let go.]

[His scars are played with, picked at, touched like so. This man wants to know him inside and out. That's what understanding is....is it? Is it really? This has gone into territory Vergilius has no name for.]

See, that's all understandable. But...hrm. What an interesting word. Connection....Do you think I need connection? Are you scared for it? [And now, his index and thumb caressing and encircling the other's neck, like a brief little reminder of that tryst on the floor. His own eyes are as glacial as anything, like icebergs warning for the deeper bottom waiting to be crashed against.] Do you want me to belong to you, hm?

[ Was he scared for it? Silco so ferociously guarded his secrets and his truths, something that he didn't want to be allowed out for anything. He was weak, compared to the rest of the people here. Nothing, comparatively. He had his secrets — even greater weaknesses — he knew he could be done in at any moment, were someone to utilize them just right against him. Had he been foolish, seeking that connection?

His fingers close against his neck, and his heart kicks up a little bit. It's a reminder of that night, but so much more. Vergilius perhaps doesn't know what he does, by pressing fingers to his neck, but his breath catches in his throat anyway. He caresses it, instead of squeezes, but he may as well have squeezed, Silco's single eyelid blinks a few times, his breath rushed quicker, staring at him. His eyes may be cold, but Silco's have no choice but to be a twisted reflection, as in all things, fire and heat.

Vergilius has touched on his most secret truth, perhaps on accident, but stumbled on it nonetheless. What did a man like him actually fear? It wasn't death, not really, and pain was nothing but an inconvenience to a man who had escaped death like he was an old friend passing by — no it was that dark, secret little piece of him that so few had ever even glimpsed. That old scar that had never healed over, as bare as the one on his face, if one thought to look close enough to see it. What did a man like Silco fear? Being left behind, of course.

His fingers wrapped around his wrist, abandoning one scar for another, his hand squeezed, but he didn't try to pull him away from his throat. Like a presence holding there, waiting to feel for what he would do with it. ]

I do not fear connection, Vergilius, but I know how devastating it can be, if left in untrustworthy hands. [ Oh, how he did know. His fingers pressed into his wrist, tightening. As if he were holding him there, but there's little muscle behind it, he could press on, should he choose to. He won't stop him. ]

I wonder... [ he says, instead of responding directly. Choosing his words carefully. ] If you want to belong to someone? [ him ]

[ He challenges him with a smile, an oblique answer yet again. Like a slippery little eel, even with his hand on his neck, he tipped his head, and it served to press his thumb into his neck. Silco's thumb rubs against the underside of his wrist, like he's goading him. ] Isn't that what real understanding is? Belonging?

[ Or did Silco have a warped, twisted view? ]

[He can feel that pulsing beat under his fingers - a short time ago, he was feeding on that very neck with that beat thrumming through his skin. It distracts him, for a moment, and the man's movement that seems to lean into it, encouraging him, simply doesn't help.]

[What does he fear, himself? He doesn't know, hasn't dwelt on it, buried it like he did with every other emotion in his sad little barren garden where flowers once had grown. No, he knows what he fears, he simply won't look it in the eye. How ironic. His fear is to lose. He lost so many, he lost at his own battles, and he's afraid to lose again, because every time he does, its by his own hands. It's the very notion of it that drives him forward, cuts off his own connections, even if he's ever so bad at that last part.]

[The man asks if he wants to belong to someone. Does he? He tilts his head, hair falling a little over those eyes that flicker to the other's hand now. It's funny, how much Silco says with his hands.]

[Is that real understanding?]

[His own thumb rolls up the other's Adam's apple, his own breath coming out in a low sigh.]

...My karma will leave me at the bottom of the sea, alone. So no. I won't belong to anyone. Such is the nature of what I have done.

[He doesn't deserve to belong to anyone.]

[Humanity shouldn't connect with a monster like him.]

[ The pressure feels both familiar and alien — it isn't the same pressure that would have choked the life out of him, either before in the hallway, or those times in the past, when large hands closed down on his throat, trying their damndest to wring the life out of him. This isn't quite as violent, pressing, but not closing. He should be wrenching him off, tugging his hand free, but he only lets it rest there. His fingers instead speak loud enough, thumb still running a circular pattern on the underside of his wrist.

He doesn't let him look too far away, if his eyes remain on his hand, he'll dig in with fingers, remind him that he is in front of him, that he should stay looking at him.

Maybe his hands were more honest than his mouth. ]

And mine will leave me at the bottom of the river one day, I am sure. We are all alone when it catches up to us. [ He says, and it's perhaps too flippant for the subject, but he knew where he would end up. They had nowhere else. It isn't a point of pride, nor is it shame. It is what it is. ]

Tell me... [ His fingers are back to stroking, coaxing. He catches on a scar, again trying to scrape along the surface. ] Do you hold this standard to everyone else?

[ Did this monster only seek his own punishment? ]

Do you only seek punishment for yourself?

[ Was that what this was for him? ]

[Ah, see, this is his greed coming out. Silco digs in, and his eyes snap back to Silco's own. He's always had an appreciation for people who never shy away from his eponymous gaze. In this case, he both respects and loathes it in equal measure in Silco, who seems to hunger for it in his own way. He wants that terrible gaze to put a spotlight on him, and him alone, doesn't he?]

[His thumb moves to underneath the other's chin, making a little circle there as he thinks. Silco is matter-of-fact, again prying with his seemingly simple questions. But nothing is ever so simple.]

Are you asking if you want me to punish you? Hm? [Now the nail of his thumb is scraping against the bottom of his chin.] If I said yes, would it matter? Would you do something about it?

[ Silco always wanted more. He always had. It's greed, perhaps, born from a life of having not enough of being asked to scramble and scrape for scraps. He'd clawed his way from mines and into revolution, lost it all, and kept scrambling, clawing for more with those greedy fingers that wanted to find something to make his. A city, a people, a daughter — who knew what else?

He asks questions because people always gave more than they intend away. He stared at him — as always, it is laser-focused, like drilling a bore into him. Like he could split him open and see what lie underneath his ruby red gaze.

Silco didn't think he deserved punishment for much in his life; despite what most thought. Everything he'd done, it had been for the cause for good and right reasons. But he knew what they all saw him as — that dirty little thing. They'd all tried to break him with that; with punishments, starvation, the mines, the drowning —

Could he punish him? Could he actually do something to make him break fully? He didn't think so. Silco's guiding star was greater than anything; his will was stronger.

Could he challenge him to try this way? He knew he could take it. ]

I might. Do you think you could break me? [ He tipped his chin upward, only slightly. ] Perhaps I would like to see you try.

[ He had such an ego, to think he could stand against it, but then again, hadn't Vergilius already seen? Despite his size, despite his weakness, he wasn't made of glass to shatter on first push. But he gives as good as he gets, doesn't he? ] Would you want to see what I do, if you did?

[Its that ego that pulls a little of it out - that part within him that he was even surprised existed. Sure, there were some he would take down however possible, but here, there's a specific little pleasurable spite in imagining this man being put in his place.]

[Could he break him? Easier said than done. But - well, he might as well say it.]

If you were easy to break, I wouldn't even waste time on you.

[Perhaps that's a partial acknowledgement of that ugly little emotion of his, like a creature poking out its head from under a stairwell. That ego seems fit to burst, and he wants to see what confetti comes from this particular balloon.]

[He rubs over the other's chin, now, in lazy little circles.]

Would that please you? Trying..

I've not broken yet.

[ He contradicts, in that way of is. He has the audacity to keep looking him in the eye, always as direct as ever. His gaze was just as unnerving as his, and maybe the fact that he didn't look away himself was motivation to push just a touch. Just a little bit. See if he could draw that creature out, coaxing it bit by bit.

His thumb on his chin, it could almost be seen as something else, if someone wasn't paying attention to what they said, or the way his fingers found scars to scrape against, like he wanted to draw and quarter him, and find what made him tick underneath, this monster he wanted to drag out. ]

Would you stop, if I said it did? You seem the sort.

[ It's a little smug, armor over anything that might be something else. 'Would you', might', rickety scaffolding to balance all of this on. ]

I've never shied away from a challenge, Vergilius. I won't start now. [ Fingers fully wrapping around his wrist, tightening there again. Like lean, bony little things. ] Will you?

[Would you? Could you? Should you? They throw around hypotheticals like snippets of paper they're cutting up with their scissors. To acknowledge something definite seems a little too insecure, somehow, as if it could pull back the curtain and reveal something unappealing.]

[But Silco thrives on unappealing. He wants Vergilius to dwell in that space, too, and his fingers hook on his wrist as if he's a fish at the end of a pole.]

[Vergilius can't help it, and he lets out a snort, even as the tip of his nail decisively digs in to the side of Silco's jaw.]

That all depends. I'm not someone who takes on useless challenges. What's it in for me, in the long run? Your supposed downfall?

[ A scoff that melds with a soft hiss. His strength is such that it's effortless if he wants to break skin. Hell, Silco knew he could break his neck too, if he wanted to. It would be just that easy, wouldn't it? He doesn't shy away, just digs his nails into his wrist, like it's not just prey to catch, but like he's something to hold onto, as well. He could take it, after all. It wasn't like Silco could really hurt him, could he? ]

My downfall? [ He asks, with a scoff. ] From where? The gutter? As an outsider?

[ He says it like the proposal is a poor one. He knew he had his sights on something bigger, and Vergilius probably expected it, too. After all, he'd lured him in on one of those plays, hadn't he? ]

Isn't that boring? [ He asked, his other hand reached out to snake against his shoulder, to hold there. Like he was holding him in place, refusing to let him go. ] A pittance.

[ An insult, he thought. To the both of them.

He ran a finger along his shoulder, a petty, bold move, maybe. The audacity of it, given that he was digging a nail into his jaw. ]

You're trying to break me, aren't you? If you manage it... if — [ Punctuated with a press of his index finger. ] — Wouldn't you want to remove the pieces you detest?

[ Silco was like an insidious little burr, winding under his skin, even now. Like a thorn with serrated edges, pulling him out would take something with hm. ]

[Does he want to remove the pieces he detests? What a question. As if he could walk onto a chess match, act as queen, and remove players left and right?]

[Sure, he may have the physical power to do so. But this is primarily a psychological game. He could win by breaking his neck. But that doesn't break the person. And why does he want to break Silco, specifically?]

...I've never had a man dangle something like this before. As if his self-being is meat to cut in two.

[Silco's fingers travel - and Vergilius scowls at that, irritated from the blatant entry into such intimate space. No. He didn't earn it - he shrugged the shoulder off, letting out a short bark of a laugh.]

Should I call you a masochist? I'm not sure you recognize the depths of your folly.

[And another brief little huff, reaching up with his other hand to try to pull Silco's spider hand off.]

How can you want to belong to someone who would break you?

And I don't know if you recognize your overconfidence. I did say if.

[ Maybe they were both foolish, in this. Both of them foolish men who were trying to tear each other apart and rend one another into pieces, and damn what was left at the end. Did he want to break him? Silco? As if being betrayed and drowned in the river had tried? As if nearly losing his soul to Sebastian had tried? Silco gambled only with what he thought he could. Surely, it wouldn't go poorly.

If he were more melodramatic, perhaps he would say that both things had already broken him — that he's already been shattered, and this was the result of belonging. The man he was had already been shattered into a million pieces, and reformed at the bottom of the river. Ah, but wouldn't that require self-awareness? No, that had made him stronger he said. It wasn't breaking when it was adapting and learning. ]

Besides, maybe I'm just as interested in the challenge as you are.

[ It isn't about the breaking, after all. It's about the threat, about the game, about the mind game of putting him right where he wants. If in the end, he did, would he want to take those pieces he dangled out? Or would he like the monster just the way he was?

He notices, he uses that word again. "Belong." He'd been adamant that he could not; but that didn't seem to keep him from thinking of keeping something for himself. He doesn't point it out, because he knew it would be another opportunity for Vergilius to say something... poetically self-depreciating. A smokescreen for something else. He files that away, like he's slipping it into a ledger. ]

After all, neither of us are easy, are we?

[ Stubbornly, he keeps his fingers wrapped around his wrist. Make him. ]

Pot calling kettle black.

[As far as the overconfidence. He scoffs - how interesting for the both of them. They're similar in that regard, stubborn old roots that refuse to be undermined by just anyone. Silco laughs at Vergilius thinking of breaking him, and so does Vergilius laugh at Silco in turn. Perhaps it isn't possible. But the trying, is that worth it? Would anything come of it? Or does it just scratch a pleasurable little itch they have no name for?]

[Nobody has ever looked at Vergilius like Silco has, as defiant as a mountain. Perhaps that's the crux of it. It's that gall that he wants to crush like an egg in the fist.]

[Now he's exerting more effort in pulling off that hand, his own scarred fingers digging in, threatening to crack bones like sticks.]

What would you get out of this challenge, Silco?

[ Just as stubborn, just as cantankerous. He wouldn't crumble for just anyone.

Like a wily little thing, he smiles in the face of danger, and maybe Vergilius is the danger. He's certainly dangerous, and Silco is well aware of the danger he poses to him. His hand on his wrist, starting to grip, as if he could snap his bones with a simple squeeze. He could, Silco knew. He could snap him in two.

He didn't move, even now. Daring him. ]

What do I get out of this?

[ He repeats it, like it's an actual question, but it's clear he already knows. His fingers tighten, like he's casting a snare to catch him and wind him in.]

For the opportunity to free you, of course. From what holds you back.

[ From that guilt. ]

[Now that makes his lips pull back - inadvertently confirming Silco's impression of him, a reaction only a known beast could have. He's grimacing, almost confused - from what holds me back?]

[Maybe there is a point to it. Again, the voice, that wonderful voice, hovers in his mind. That woman had also said that his children were merely a balm, an excuse, a way to avoid his own guilt. If only he could let go. If only he could move ahead, and selfishly love who he was without regrets.]

[But that very thought is abrasive to him - tempting, of course, even she had been close to get him to consider it, but at the same time it itches like a rash he knows should not belong on his skin. His grip is also tight, so tight, but - its held. It's controlled. He stares down at Silco, words coming out through his teeth.]

And what...do you get out of that? What business is my freedom to you? What do you care, huh?

[ He tries to hold himself back, that confused grimace across his face, all teeth, but it bares the part of him that he knows exists, that monster lurking where he thinks other people can't find it. That the guilt fights to hold it back like a chain and a cage, while it snaps and fights for freedom. He doesn't even see it, does he? The way it strains against his control, fighting to be free. Even now.

His hand is like a vice on his wrist, while Silco's hand is a shackle on his. He's holding him in place, even if it's little to no force, it's still holding him here. ]

I could ask you the same thing. [ He pointed out, his voice a soft hiss. ] There's little advantage for trying to change a Zaunite, make us anything less than what we are, but you want to try, don't you?

[ It's pointed, but he answers anyway. Some of it. ]

You don't see how it holds you back, your guilt? [ He hissed. This guilty monster, trying so hard to bit himself as hard as he bit others. Wouldn't he be so much better unrestrained? Unfettered? ] How it kept you from them?

[ Even Silco had been honest (mostly) with his daughter. His single eyebrow knitted, the expression looks odd on his face — as always, like there are two different men here. He says he's not broken, but... ]

Don't you regret that?

...

[He wants to retort many things - they all come up like a flurry of butterflies in his head, one after the other, asking to be spoken. But in a single moment, those questions pierce him, one right after the other. Perhaps they bite at him, like Silco's teeth did once. The retorts die in his mouth, and sink into his chest like a stone.]

I... [He starts, stops. The rough, furious look now looks more like a wounded animal, wide and almost watery.] I couldn't have. I...

[Nothing. No retorts. His grip starts to lessen, guilt rising up like a poison tide to wash whatever fury he had away.]

I couldn't tell them...

[ There it is. That weakness. That thing that holds him back. He sees it clear as day, the way it threatens to swallow that monster up like an open maw, something opening up beneath him and threatening to swallow. He's trapped — could he leap out from its hungry teeth? ]

Didn't you want to?

[ He doesn't push, this is the negotiation. This isn't the final tip over the edge. This is planting the idea in his garden, that things could have been different. Just that one, insidious little seed. ]

Do you think it was fair to them?

[ he thinks of Jinx, of how she hated liars. did these children too? ]

It wasn't fair to them. But...I couldn't have...handled them hating me.

[Now his gaze seems to be turning - receding, even, like a lantern at the bottom of a sea, obscured.]

Garnet looked at me with such admiring eyes. If he knew...I'm sure he would have turned away.

I know.

[ He reaches out now — again, for his shoulder, the anger has bled away and there's this guilty, sad thing at his core — he tightens his grip there. This thing, he sees it. It's like it wants to swallow him, and make him into this meek, fearful man, who fears... them leaving. Them hating him.

Ah, doesn't he know that just as well? That fear, the way it can stay a hand? The fear so sharp it can make one feel nauseous and shake? That they would finally leave? That they would hate you for something, and then it's over. Then every effort, everything was ruined? That there would be nothing left?

Oh, doesn't he know that fear? Does it stifle him in this same way it does Vergilius, and he cannot see it? ]

You would do anything for him, wouldn't you? [ Except tell him the truth, remains in the air, unsaid. He leaned forward, his head tipped to peer at those eyes beneath long bangs. ]

I know you would. You should accept that. Don't you want to make the most of time you have if you save him?

[Do everything but tell the truth. Kill others. Burn the world down. All for him, all for her, all for the little souls of the orphanage long gone. He failed them.]

[Silco's hand finds his shoulder and makes him still for a moment, like an anchor tossed into the depths of hell. It won't pull him out. In fact, it may make him sink further. And yet, he leans on it to steady himself.]

[A lesser man would collapse from the weight of his sin. He has to constantly move forward with that mantle on his back. He wonders if its the same for Silco, too.]

And what time would that be? If I brought him back, and he knows I took away his parents, removed a chance for a proper life - what would that be worth?

[And now a scoff, closing his eyes.]

You're lucky, Silco.

[ What would it be worth?

He knows the truth. His fingers flex against his shoulder — not unkindly, a flex of knowing. Was it worth it, to do everything to save them, if they just walked away? Jinx had been dying in his arms — LILITH had told him she was alive, but what else? Nothing. He hasn't seen it, he doesn't know what would happen. Would she forgive him? For trying so hard to deal with the sister? He shuddered to think what would happen. Sometimes, his face stung from the phantom punctures of her anger.

Lucky? Hah. ]

You and I both know that's hardly the case.

[ He doesn't elaborate, focused more on the man leaning into his hand; his weakness. That guilty man he wants to help excise and free. ]

It's not worth it, if they aren't there, I know. Would you keep him at arms length in the end, when you saved him? Yet again?

She knows the truth, and hasn't abandoned you. Isn't that lucky enough?

[Again, it feels like the words sting more than any weapon could - he'd prefer Silco taking an actual knife to him again. Physical pain, he's dealt with. To stab into the heart, let it bleed out, is that ever a pain he can be used to? Even with his own self-inflicted wounds?]

[There's a little tremble of his lower lip, his eyes opening only slightly to show uncertain, glimmering light.]

I never...thought to consider otherwise. [And quieter, so quiet.] He said I didn't raise him to be a coward. I told him that...I didn't even raise him in general. That faith...to get that close is to ruin it.

[ For once he looks away, for perhaps only a brief moment, but it is long enough. Look enough for that tight, pinched fear to resurface, a slight echo from earlier. That old fear that's ever present, an old worry. She may not have left him yet, but would it happen? Could it? Sevika had tried to convince him to hold off, and not go looking for her, and now...

He redirects he's gaze back to him, tipping his head to keep his eyes focused on his.

To see this vulnerability.

It feels odd. Intimate, to know this much about this man, freely given pain opened for him to see, and dig through like he's looking for treasure in the viscera. ]

He clearly thought you did something. [ He points out, not unkindly. ] Was what you had enough? For you? [ A beat. ] For him?

...

[He notices the glance away - an odd thing for Silco, and his hand twitches upward to grasp onto the side of his face, if for a moment. Maybe reassurance, maybe to keep him steady.]

[Even here and now, even as much as he dislikes this man, his heart never does what he wants it to do, doesn't it?]

...No. It wasn't enough for him. [And for himself, either, though he doesn't voice it.] But in our world, Fixers should not have personal connections anyways. I tried to drill that into him. Prepare him for the darkness that would wait for him going down my path. Ah, but that boy....he always had a tender heart.

He wanted to follow you?

[ Walk in his footsteps, it sounded like.

He didn't flinch away from his hand and stared back at him again. That moment of uncertainty, fleeting thought it was, vanished again. Covered up like everything else he kept buried in that deep pool, anything that could be used as a weapon to be drowned and left at the bottom of it. ]

You're right that they shouldn't. [ Something he would know intimately as well. Someone like that who had a weakness was someone who could be manipulated. Easily. ] Though, you did, didn't you?

In my experience, Vergilius... [ He hedged in his tone, eyes darted away, before they looked back at him. As if he were trying to look away for a brief moment, if just to — find the Words. It is a vulnerable thought, that he voices. ] Sometimes it is not our choice, to find that connection. We must merely find a way to protect it by any means necessary.

Yes. He did. Though he had his personal reasons for it, too. He may have been tender, but his heart was full of...nothing but thoughts of revenge, too.

[Revenge for the fellow children. Garnet raged out in the open where he couldn't - or simply, he chose not too. His failures made his anger recede like a low tide, while Garnet pushed forward to try to find any way to get back to the one who had caused that tragedy in the first place.]

[And he hadn't even survived long enough to get even an inch close to her.]

[He follows Silco's gaze - it flits like a little moth, darting in the air - before he captures again, holds them steady.]

...Of course. And yes, I did. I did have connections. [Of course, yes, they have to protect it by any means necessary. He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as hair strands fall in front of red light.] Do you...regret anything with Jinx, Silco?

Tender hearted boys with thoughts of revenge... [ A scoff? A laugh? Something that sounds bitter. ] It cuts both ways, revenge.

[ He still catches him by surprise, with the question. He can't look away now, red eyes on his own mismatched.

Did he regret anything? Anything about his violent, whimsical, manic daughter? Broken in so many pieces just like he'd been, a little girl that needed someone to tell her that she was brilliant, that she could do anything, that she could be the very thing that broke her into pieces. That there was strength in what had broken her apart, and she could use that as the metal to put herself back together, welding all of those pieces back together so the sharp edges faced outward. Towards anyone, and everything.

It had just been the two of them — it was always the two of them, everyone else would always leave — for so long he did not have any delusions that someone else in the mix would have always caused problems. He'd thought Vi had been... eliminated? Dead? Marcus had told him so. He didn't really care one way or the other, and Vi had left a scar on her sister, that had been... that.

Except she wasn't. And she'd already hurt her again — or the enforcer she was with had — or they'd lured her into a trap — he didn't know how. ]

Yes.

[ He admitted. It's his own guilt. That he hadn't ensured she was safe. ] I left something to rot that should not have. It came back to hurt her. Nearly kill her.

[ This was literally not the thing he should regret, but Silco was a foolish man, a foolish man with a twisted mind. He thought his daughter was perfect just the way she was, even if nobody else could see it. She always would be. ]

Edited 2024-12-07 06:25 (UTC)

I tried to tell him as such. But you know a boy like that can't be dissuaded.

[Their hearts burn too fiercely. He would know. In a way, he's one himself - his bloody heart feels in a way that pierces him like thorns that permanently grow in his skin. To eliminate it is to kill himself.]

[He waits for the answer. And Silco answers in the affirmative, a little surprising, but also not. All guardians, parents, they all have their mistakes.]

...And what did you do about it?

[Again, his hand reaches up, only to rest against the base of his neck.]

Did you save her?

[ He'd once been so similar, too. Once. That boy was so far gone now, but he knew what kind of monster a boy like that could make, if he were shattered into so many pieces, betrayal like that cut so deep. Perhaps Vergilius was right to withhold it from him. Perhaps he would never know — perhaps he would fail? — but... Who knew.

With their children, they always seemed to surprise. There were times Silco thought he would have to push harder, and times that he didn't think he'd have to push at all, and it was often the opposite of what he expected.

Why was it so difficult? ]

I — [ He wants to look away now. He does, when not held there. Silco so rarely looks away from him. ] — don't know. I asked LILITH, but all they said was that she wasn't dead.

[ His daughter lived, that's all he knew. She had been in his arms, he'd picked her up, and the only thing he could think was that mantra, echoing over and over in his head like a too-loud echo that drowned everything else out. She's dead she's dead she's dead ]

That is a mystery I'll have to learn someday when I return. [ A Beat. ] If, at this rate.

Mm.

[That's the thing, isn't it? They may kill all the kaiju they like, but at the back of their minds will always be that singular, blinding purpose: keeping their children safe and sound.]

[It feels like a rollercoaster sometimes. To go from viciously hating the man, to wanting to hold him in his arms and rock him side to side. He knows Silco knows how to deal with the former. He would be flummoxed most likely with the latter. What a complicated man he is.]

[Vergilius heaves a sigh, fingers curling as he bows his head.]

Well. Sometimes we have to dwell in the sea of the unknown. Whether that fate of theirs is up to us...we can't always control it. And I will say what a bastard of sorts told me the other day. Maybe today. "We must merely find a way to protect it by any means necessary."

[ It feels so terribly...wrong, and raw, to admit such a thing to him. The small part of his weakness, even a glimpse of it is far too much. But Vergilius already knew the shape and the name of his weakness, that glaring hole in what used to be his heart that he protected like a desperate man covering it with layer after layer of armor. He'd managed to peel it away, and see what lie underneath, that one thing that would leave Silco weak. Vulnerable.

But he curled his fingers against his neck. He does not know if it is a reassurance or a threat. Perhaps it is best if it is left ambiguous. The man wouldn't know what to do if he tried to do anything more. At one time, maybe, but Silco truly is such a broken little creature, despite what he says despite what he promises. That's the folly of his challenge.

How do you break what's already broken, after all? ]

Some bastard of sorts? [ He scoffed, it's a soft sound. Almost disbelieving. ] Smart bastard, then.

They're right, of course.

[ What else could he do? ]

I think the bastard would like to think so about being smart.

[He's never told anyone this much. Even Malkuth, who knew about his garden, his children, didn't hear about Garnet, and how he became his namesake.]

[How odd, to be known. How much odder, that the man who knows him is one who has caused him pain, seeks to break him, asks to try to break him in return.]

[He hums, not letting go.]

Anyways. We follow the flow. Do what we can. Everything in our power. For better, or for worse.

[ His fingers instinctively tighten against the larger man, a grip into his shoulder, a hand around his wrist. Curled together like this, he could be seen — mistaken — for a softer man, for someone who sought comfort in the arms of someone who understood him in that way. Is it? It feels as if his heart beats alongside his, for at least this half-second.

They could not be more different, perhaps. Vergilius has a soft heart wracked with guilt, he can see it, the shape of what keeps him distant; whereas Silco's heart is a gaping hole, spiked and trapped like anyone who peers too deep in would be caught and stuck, unable to pull free without ripping something of themselves free in the process. He would always cause pain, even inadvertent.

It feels something like an inevitability, that their children are so matched, these precious little things that they want to protect by any means necessary, care for despite the forces in their way. Silco can see the shape of their similarities — project, even — and how they're making some odd structure between the places where they meet up. Cutting each other in the process, maybe making something out of what they cut off. ]

Hm. [ An affected sigh. ] No other choice.

Not a choice I would take, regardless.

[They're similar. They're not similar at all. Silco wants to tear it all down in spite, and Vergilius tears himself down out of spite. There's a push and pull here that's more evident by moments like these, where they practice the semblance of humanity while being, so, well? Not human at all. Twisted from human.]

[They're the type of people mothers warn their children about to make them behave, though how ironic, given how their children did not behave at all.]

[He's very close to him - and it makes Vergilius have the urge to step away, as if he is dancing at the edge of that gaping hole of Silco's heart. It must be tempting to be pulled in. It's easy to fall into a pit like that.]

[He wonders if, maybe, his heart can make that hole smaller. But that's right. They'd destroy each other. That's how different they are.]

...Mm. [And he is starting to detach himself, after a moment, ready to step away.] That being that, you're still alive. After dealing with a goddess, no less. You have to count your lucky stars.

And a demon.

[ He pointed out. He knew which he feared more.

It was not the goddess with a tender heart and too much power for how easily set off she was. No, she was easily excitable, and easily subdued. She didn't want to hurt him, it was clear. She always tried to give him the chance to turn tail and run. Mind, he disliked that, but... It was something.

The demon, though. He was the danger. The dangerous one. The one who'd nearly taken his soul, and threatened him in his room, and covered everything with dark, slithering things. Drowning him in it.

His lips twitched.

He did not dare admit fear. That he wanted to not be near the shadows. ]

But, I do not think it is luck. Merely... [ A smile. Tight, and a little mean. He does not hold him there. ] An unwillingness to die.

I know the feeling well. In the City, that's all you can do until you rise to the top of the muck. Survive.

[Live. Live. Live. It rings like a bell inside of their worn-out bodies.]

...You'll keep not dying, as long as you stay out of danger and stop poking your nose into things.

[He's backed up now, but he's tipping his head, giving the man a little Look.]

Will you?

[ He'd never thought there would be anything like Zaun, but the city sounds so similar to it. Just like it. Violent and cruel, a hard place to make harder people.]

Me? Poke my nose into things?

[ He hasn't moved yet, just a slight twitch of a smile, unblinking eye staring up at him. ]

Get into danger?

[ He folded one leg over the other, like some preening lord, looking up at him. ]

That doesn't sound like me at all. I don't do those things. [ A beat, a twitch of that chipped grin. ]

If I can avoid it. I suppose if not, well. Those orphans will be fairly well funded, hm?

Uh-huh.

[There's a brief urge to throttle him like a weasel. It passes.]

So. You're really wanting to go through with that deal, huh? Given your...eagerness.

[ It wouldn't help anything, he'd just be weirder about it.

Maybe stab him again for fun. Clearly he can take it.]

I think it's best to have a plan in place, yes. That is, if you'll accept it. [ He's so obnoxious about it, a tip of his head, still looking up at him. ] And think of all the good it would do.

[ Think of the children...?]

[Think of the childrenz indeed.]

[He folds his arms, sighing- an aquiesance. Sometimes men really do have soft spots.]

A hundred thousand kryptos and nothing less. And a receipt to prove the transaction.

You truly are worried that I'll swindle you?

[ He smiled, hands spread. He blinked — with that eye it looks a wink — but he finds it respectable.

Anyone who didn't ask for proof was a fool, and Vergilius did not seem a fool. He wouldn't be worth Silco's time, if he was. ]

Ah, ah. Very smart, when dealing with a Zaunite. Do you want to shake on it? Make it official? Or is my word good enough?

Neither of those.

[He actually seems as straightforward as ever, like a businessman who could care less for anything beyond the fine print. He's played in these sort of deals before. Vergilius scoffs.]

I'll draft a contract and you'll sign it. Even in the City, one's word means nothing.

[ be still his beating heart. ]

A contract? That's downright formal. [ A beat. ] Signed in ink, yes?

[ he has to ask, he knows now to question these assumptions, that things are done like normal people would. ]

I have no issues, if it is ink.

...As opposed to what? Blood?

[He looks a little incredulous like WHAT ELSE WOULD IT BE, SIR]

Or I'll send you an electronic copy and you can sign it like that.

Something like that.

[ His last contract had manifested in the form of a brand, searing pain carved into his skin. His lips thin, both in memory and in... well. ]

An electronic copy. Alright.

[ He has no idea how to do that. He'll figure it out. Probably. ]

...Never did one, huh. No computers where you come from? Its more blase than you think.

[Sometimes, a horrific world that runs on the suffering of many.....really just happens to be the same world with a lot of boring paperwork for most things.]

[ What is the suffering of many if it isn't bureaucracy? ]

No computers, no. I did all my bookkeeping by hand. [ He says it archly, as he's having to learn to do it electronically.

He doesn't like it. ]

It's been an adjustment.

Ah.

[Understandable.......his mildly backwards world......]

It will be simpler this time. You don't need to do too much on your end. Makes your life easier.

[ "Mildly". ]

I see. Well, if it makes things easier, then far be it for me to complain, hm?

I suppose I need to get with the future as it is, if I want to blend in.

[ The leader of the ring he's a part of at the moment thinks he's eccentric for doing it by hand, actually. Kind of annoyed too, but he deals with it because Silco's books are very clean. He hides all kinds of things in there. ]

Eh, just imagine it as a different sort of headache. I ran an Office back in the day. All the excitement of jobs led to very tedious ends.

[A little sigh and a shrug of the shoulders.]

Easier, though. You should get with the times, old man.

Hm.

[ He says. He's still trying to get a handle on the whole "computer" thing. ]

I suppose I'll have to, if I want to compete.

[ compete? With what? Don't worry about it. ]

....I would ask, but then again. You'll probably tell me down the line, won't you.

[given him being hired as a whole bodyguard]

[ A note of acquiescence. ]

I will.

[ After the contract is signed. ]

I prefer my dealings above board, you know. It makes things so much easier if each part understands their roles perfectly.

[ to be fair... everyone commits crimes in crime city. It ain't a big deal if you're all criminals. ]

You don't need to tell me. I dealt with plenty of people like you before breakfast. Business dealings and all. Once I murdered a whole Syndicate to get a password for a client.

[At least fifty or more people in one go. Its how it is.]

[ ~~stop stop you're already hot~~

His lips twitch into a smile. ]

That sounds flashy.

[ He says, like they aren't talking about wanton murder. ]

I remember, you decapitated that traitor, recently. [ He laced his fingers together, index fingers pointing outward. ] I don't doubt you've got the stomach for my line of work.

It is my bread and butter. Whether I like it or not.

[Yeah, yeah, he knows how you run, Mister Silco. Murder is the top of the line here in SilcoWorld.]

Anyways, I'll send it to you later. The contract. And you can let me know if you have any questions.

[ at least he doesn't feel guilty about it, unlike SOME people ]

Hm. I'll reach out if I do.

[ And like they hadn't been talking about anything deep, or revealing, or like anything in the past hour or so had been weird at all, he stood, and moved to leave. ]

Pleasure doing business, as always.

[Of course not. Everything is business as usual. No vulnerabilities. No baring of souls.]

[It all just boils down to business......right?]

Mm. If you want to call it that. But I'll see you around.

[ a huge bouquet is delivered to Silco on base. no card, no message. nothing could link it to the large sum of money that was transferred to Silco's account. and if the flowers match the colour of Nanami's favoured shirts, well, that's sheer coincidence, surely. ]

( Here is a curse. The curse is holding a giftbag in its squat little hands. The giftbag is cheerful and obnoxious, because Geto finds it funny. Inside is a box of Silco's brand of cigars, a fancy lighter, and a bottle of potent alcohol. There's a post-it note attached, and it reads Why not? Happy Holidays. )

[ THIS IS SO CUTE. They can drink in silence and smoke together... Geto will probably notice that Silco's using the new lighter bc he loves a good zippo ]

Edited 2024-12-29 20:44 (UTC)

( honestly, it would feel weird if he didn’t get anything for his "coworkers" at the agency.

the custom of gift-giving is deeply ingrained in izou, after all, and so he keeps an eye open in all his vintage thrifting.

that's why there's a little sectioned off area on the messy desk of their office with a couple hastily swaddled gifts. there's a thin item in particular with silco's name hastily written in japanese in a wrapping of synthetic newspaper, and it translates easily through the ocular. it seems as if the writer either had difficulty determining the correct spelling or was reconsidering the whole act of gift-giving entirely before solidly committing. either way, unwrapping it reveals a charismatic bat-themed dagger of ancient craftsmanship, with the steel and carved wooden handle expertly polished before being placed into a paper case. izou knew the importance of keeping and maintaining weapons in peak condition.

and while silco didn't need a new dagger, necessarily, this one in particular had reminded izou of that wear and distance of his. )

[ NO THE DAGGER.......... IT'S SO CUTE......... 🥺 silco will definitely stab a gangster with this ]

[ Outside Silco's door on Christmas morning is a box without a name attached! At least, not a "From" name. Just his own. And inside the box is another box! But just just any box. It's a box that by all appearances looks to be a package of authentic Cuban cigars!

Except that they're rubber. Fakes. And they squeak? What are these, dog toys???

No wonder there's no name attached. ]

Edited 2024-12-25 03:31 (UTC)

[ HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT THESE ARE why do they squeak help...

cue the most disappointed this man has ever been (good) ]

[ Come Christmas day, there’s a simply, humbly wrapped package for Silco. The tag simply says “from Tezcatlipoca”, and though he’d been tempted to write a letter… He’d thought better of it. Silco isn’t someone he can affect through words like that, since he’s someone that prefers action. So. It’s just a gift!

One is a quite nice shoulder holster that fits Silco very comfortably. He may not be someone that favors guns, but maybe this is Tezcatlipoca’s hint that he should consider it… Just in case. Second is much simpler! It’s a bottle of amber mezcal that’s pungent and smoky—in fact, somewhat reminiscent of the cigars that Silco likes to smoke! ]

[ spoilers, readers: it worked. :) he got a gun ]

[ Why, did you know that Christmas cards in the Victorian era were a different sort of affair, Silco? That’s surely why the card that comes for Silco is a little… nontraditional. Surely, it’s only that! There's no gift, only a card, and it's in his beautiful, elegant script, of course. ]

It is with the utmost respect that I extend to you, Mr. Silco, the most felicitous of Christmas greetings. May this blessed season bestow upon you an abundance of peace, health, and joy, as the warmth of the festivities graces your heart and home. So too may the coming year be filled with prosperity and contentment, and that the spirit of goodwill, which this season so abundantly offers, continues to illuminate your every endeavour.

Faithfully yours,
Sebastian Michaelis

[Delivery time, Silco! Here's a large package, almost as large as a big dog. Open it up, and inside is...]

[Well. It's a giant teddy bear with big sparkling blue eyes and a cutesy smiling expression, holding a large red heart. The kind of nauseatingly cheesy stuffed animal you see in stores around Valentine's Day. The teddy bear comes with a note:]

To make your heart three sizes larger.

Wonder how long it will take for you to try to put your foot down. Unless you have a thing for me calling you Daddy?

Happy Holidays.

- Vergilius

[And attached to the note is several pages of a business contract, complete with a request for a signature and a lot of legalese about hiring a bodyguard.]

[ hey what the fuck is this verg
it really does make him mad so mission accomplished

is it the bear or the daddy? hard to say. (both) But the bear will conspicuously be ~~hidden~~ gone if (when) he's ever in his room again

But the day after the delivery, because Silco does a very thorough reading of the contract, there will be an electronic signature ping. ]

[Oh, good, he got it. A little message for you, sir. Enjoy your teddy bear.]

Thanks. No questions regarding the contract?

[As if all of that was strictly business.]

[ what the fuck is he supposed to do with a teddy bear, verg? It's going to single-handedly ruin his intimidating image!! ]

The contract? Oh, no. Rather standard. Everything was laid out rather clearly.

[ In fact... ]

Did you write it yourself?

[ strictly business here
he didn't even come over and slit his throat ~~or something else~~ for calling him daddy
must be in a good mood. ]

[That's the point. :)]

Mm, yes, I did, actually. I used to run an Office, you know.

[He was used to all the legalese and contracts, here.]

[ hdu verg stop keeping him on his toes!! ]

Did you?

[ He sounds a little impressed. A little. Maybe it's dampened by the smile of that damn teddy bear staring at him. ]

And what kind of office did you run? [ a beat. ] I cannot imagine you whiling away your time on menial work.

An Office of Fixers like myself. We took on odd jobs here and there. Paperwork was part of it.

[His tone practically sounds like a shrug in and of itself.]

In the end, its still just a business.

Hm.

[ Which says all of nothing what he's thinking but you know. It's silco. ]

Bureaucratic of you all. [ With a half, laugh. ] I can see the appeal, although it does make an unpleasant job even more unpleasant, doesn't it?

[ Well, if you aren't a freak like Silco who likes the logistical side. ]

You're a businessman, yourself. You have to agree....in the end, all people care about sometimes are figures and forms.

[The City IS, in fact, capitalism hell to its core.]

[ Businessman...? Well, he supposed there's something to that. ]

That's the only language that speaks in such circles, yes. It's a reality I had to confront when I was a boy.

It's why I'm so good at bookkeeping now, after all. Sometimes one has to learn to speak the language to get around it.

[ silco probably would have done ok in the city up until he gets murderated by something way more powerful than him ]

[Thinking of Silco as a child seems like an almost alien idea. It feels like he just came out as withered and rough as he is now.]

It's always been about survival for you....much like the Backstreets of home. People from there do their best to get to the Nests, but...take them from the Backstreets, can't take the Backstreets out of them.

[imagine if verg met twink silco]

The backstreets sound a bit like the undercity. But what of the nests? What kind of place is it that people work themselves into that's so different?

[he just eats him for dinner lbr]

In most Nests, a place of security. Freedom from the dangers of the Backstreets. A chance at good schools, a place to stay, well-paying jobs. But even getting into the Nest is only a first step. Its doing your best to stay that is the true suffering.

[ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ]

Oh? How so? What does it take for an individual to stay? If they can make their way out of a place like the backstreets... they must be impressive as it is.

[:)]

Usually? Being good enough to keep their job at whatever Corp is at the heart of that part of that Nest. Easier said than done. One setback could get you kicked out, and you're back at square one. That, or whatever work you do can kill you. Or worse.

Hah, about as unforgiving as every day is where I am from. The Nest hardly sounds much better.

[ He can...appreciate that though... Silco you're so messed up. ]

What can be worse than death?

Well, as an example, being changed, warped, or possessed by whatever Singularity a Nest has. Sometimes death would be a mercy in that regard.

That bad, hm?

[ He doesn't even know what that means, really. He can at least draw a conclusion about what they could be, but the depth of it... hm. ]

Are they forever gone, if they lose themselves like that?

Most of the time, yes. For example, Abnormalities in L Corp could sometimes parasitize workers for their own needs if they weren't careful.

[Which is what Lobotomy Corporation is all about!! Sometimes people get jacked by SCPs! It's fine.]

There's always danger. Nests just dress it up prettier or hide it well from the general public.

Ah. What an achievement, to make it out of the backstreets and into yet more danger.

I assume the same danger exists where they come from as well, hm? Just a... slightly better life, for the nearly the same risk?

[ Silco actually can't say which is worse, and he thinks it's probably...both. ]

Well, Backstreets are worse. You have the Sweepers, for one thing. A natural phenomenon of beings that "sweeps" the Backstreets at a certain time at night. If you're out there, you're good as dead. Gets rid of all the dead bodies, though.

[He talks about it like its just a bad weather formation, or something. A natural part of Backstreet life.]

I could go on and on. Either way, Backstreets people find themselves surviving at all cost, sometimes. People disappear all the time. You can even be turned into an experimental subject for a Corp if you're not careful. Nests at least have a semblance of a life. You can imagine how appealing that is.

Struggling to survive versus at least having a warm bed and food, and the ability to go out at night?

[ Yeah, he can understand why that's desirable. Those sweepers... sound useful. Well, except for the rampant eliminations. ]

I can understand the appeal. Did you frequent the backstreets? Or were you from one of those Nests?

I know of the Backstreets well enough. Lived in a Nest when I became a Color. Somehow felt off...

[me like its never been confirmed he's from the Backstreets but his apartment in the Nest is soooo not comfortably lived in let me just Have this]

[ Silco's going to assume it even if they don't confirm it. ]

Hah, well enough, huh? Maybe that's why you bother talking to me at all, hm?

[ silco please... ]

Did it feel off because of the rot at the center? Or because it was ill-suited to you?

...I don't think you want my answer.

[VERGILIUS PLEASE!!!]

Mm. Both, honestly. The whole City...has its rot I wish could be burned away. I never did like the fame that came with my position, either.

Don't tell me, are you afraid you're going to hurt my feelings? Don't worry, you can't.

[ why do they play these games ]

You don't seem the type that would enjoy fame. You seem more suited to keep a low profile.

Why would you think I would hurt your feelings? How very interesting.

[A low hum on his end, almost a purr, but it settles into a sigh.]

That would be me, yes. I have my freedoms. But I could do without the fawning.

So then there's a different answer, then?

[ Was that — ? No, that's his imagination. ]

Being here must be rather pleasant, compared to your City, then, isn't it? No fawning, you can just keep your head down... [ Other than what they needed to do, the both of them. Their own goals... ] Just do whatever job comes your way, hm?

I guess you'll never know, now.

[A tease, he knows it what it is. He can't help but toe the line.]

Indeed. I simply do what I'm good at. Which seems to include working for you and getting you that "clean house". When do you want it to happen?

Never? [ A put-upon sigh. ] Maybe I'll have to pester it out of you, lest I have to live with my disappointment.

[ Is he toeing the line back? Maybe. ]

Hm, so I hear, you're very good at it. We should perhaps aim it for over the new years celebrations. They're due to be out of town for some time, and I would like the blood to not be dry when they return.

[ jesus christ silco ]

Pester it out of me. Whatever will you do to me, next. One shudders at the possibilities.

[boys Please]

I...see. Would you want to see the result, then? You always did seem like the type who wanted to double-check on a job well done.

You might regret giving me free rein to pester it out of you.

[

]

I did tell you I enjoyed watching you work, didn't I? There's always a certain satisfaction in seeing the work completed, as well.

[ Prevents him from missing loose ends, too. Not that Vergilius would Ever, but. ]

Regret is a big, heavy word. Will you think it will apply to me?

["Enjoyed watching you work", he says. Here comes a sigh.]

Perhaps. But you're getting close to the fanboys and everything I have to deal with. Promise me you won't ask for my autograph, next.

I can be particularly motivated when I want to be. We'll see.

[ verg please don't lump him on with the rest of those schmucks this is different ]

Unless it's for administrative purposes, I don't make a habit of asking for signatures, don't worry. Just let an old man enjoy watching a professional in peace for once, hm?

I don't see how that's better.....

[mmmmmm]

Don't count me in as some form of entertainment.

Oh, you don't see how? It's not about being entertained, Vergilius.

It's about understanding. [ a beat. ] Especially when it comes to those doing work for me. After all, how else will I know what types of tasks suit you best?

[ uh huh]

That understanding thing, again...

[Them trying to understand one another...is it really possible?]

You could just ask me.

Yes, again.

[ Understanding being a pretense for who the fuck knows what is going on here. ]

I could — I might, even. But I know better than to simply leave things to be done out of sight. Call me paranoid, if you must. I still find it serves a purpose.

I think you just like being a nosy busybody.

Me? Nosy? [ Well. ]

Perhaps. The question you should ask is: why?

[DRYLY:]

Because you're obsessed with me, or something.

[ An annoyed huff. Taking the wind out of his sails and ruining the drama!

So dryly, in return: ]

Don't sound so eager at the idea. Otherwise you'll be disappointed.

Ah, so as eager as I am to discover a fly in my soup. I see.

Hah.

Are you saying I spoil things?

Do you not?

Only the things that should be.

And what do you not want to spoil, then?

Hm.

[ A long, long pause, as if he is considering... Before the weight in the space between words seems to drop off. Discarded (set aside). ]

I suppose you really will just have to see what escapes my grasp unspoiled, won't you?

Hm.

[He can feel it being set aside.]

[What a weight it is.]

I suppose I shall.

[ It's like an elephant in the room, so there's only one option when it's left in there, its presence something he can't ignore. ]

I'll let you know when we'll head out. For the cleaning up.

[ The only option is to leave. ]

( someone has no idea christmas is the only day you're supposed to give gifts, considering it and the new year a single extended celebration of what people have vaguely named "the holidays."

at his door, sitting there unwrapped, is a bottle of eye drops. beside it is an ominous square of paper printed with a qr code. when scanned, silco's implant will bring up an automated reply from kaladin with his message: )

Happy Christmas New Years

[Lilias’s gifts arrive later than is traditional, owing to an ill-timed winter cold—but after her recovery, she chooses to deliver her holiday presents in person. Tucked into a gift bag stuffed with colourful paper are a bottle of a very nice, smoky scotch, and a leather cigar case with a few pleasant-smelling cigars. All likely wasted on Silco, but Lilias clearly thought they would make nice gifts.

A small card is tucked into the bag, bearing a note in a firm, elegant hand:]

Silco,

I trust you made good use of your holiday leisure. The winter tradition where I come from would be to make gifts by hand, but in lieu of that, I hope you enjoy these tokens. Please try to contain your disappointment at not receiving a hand-knitted scarf instead.

Best wishes,
Lilias

[ lilias 🥺 this is so cute he'll smoke them around her... ]

Hey is this Silco

Who is this?

[ ever suspicious silco!!! ]

Someone with good hair

Seriously can't believe that's actually your sn

[ oh. him. ]

sn? What's that?

[ Oh good so you agree my hair is great. ]

Screen name, the name on your screen, you're like the third person who hasn't known this fsr

[ Guess who is so much more confident online than they are in person. ]

[ he's so tired ]

Well, forgive me for being from a world where screens like these don't exist, then.

I didn't pick my name, if that's what you're asking. LILITH did.

[ And he is literally never allowed to change it. ]

Forgiven ig, and dw you being the kind of super creep who would pick that wasn't in my head until this moment

Did you use the pomade

Continue to alleviate yourself of that notion, then.

[ Is he still on about his fucking hair? ]

Yes, I did. It sufficed.

[ It was more than fine, which makes him feel that nagging tingle in the back of his head. He hates that feeling. Of growing soft, or of enjoying the nice things.

He immediately went back to his old ways. ]

I'm trying, it's not like this is my fault

[ I didn't want to type "bad daddy" into my contact list. I didn't want to go down this road at all. ]

"Sufficed" huh

So rate it 0-10 where 10's the best

Do what I do. Pretend it doesn't exist.

[ He's TRYING. ]

Do you produce this product? Why are you so invested?

I give it a 6. Marginally better than what I was using before.

No and I don't do sponsorships

[ Hahaha... an internet inside joke for him and him alone because no one will ever understand him here. ]

Maybe I'm just nice and care about your hair looking better, is that a crime

Sounds like it worked out for you

[ he.............doesn't get it ]

There's no point in investing unless you want something. This is true for most people. I don't know what it could be, but there is something.

The product was fine. I haven't thrown it away, boy.

[ He just. also. didn't throw away his other. who knows, maybe he'll use it for nice occasions. ]

Idk what else it could be either so if you come up with some theories feel free to lmk. I want your hair to look better

I have a name btw

I don't remember it.

[ He does. He just... doesn't believe it's his real name. ]

And why are you obsessed with my hair?

Samuel, now that it's in writing you're out of excuses

I gave you smth I thought would help and I followed up and now I'm obsessed? Why can't you just accept a pro tip

[ smth?
pro tip?
btw?

What language is this kid speaking? ]

You said you want my hair to look better. Why? What's the point in talking about my hair of all things?

[ Silco knows he has a lot of failings in the eyes of other people. This isn't one he's used to hearing. ]

[ It'll only go downhill from here, Silco, wait for his memes. ]

Oh you mean bc of your skin? I can prob rec some products there too if you want but I don't go too hard on it

[ wildly misunderstands ]

I'm cool to help, I get that you don't trust me or w/e but I can't exactly mess with an unopened jar of smth

[ He is getting so many weird terms. He's writing them down. He's looking them up. He's going to need to go to his daughter for help ]

I am not some... foppish type who needs to spend my time preening over every little thing.

[ Okay but. He's always wearing makeup so. ]

Don't you have better things to do?

Did you actually type out ellipses before foppish...... It's seriously not a big deal, you're allowed to take two seconds to put on moisturizer or w/e. You probably take longer on your clothes

[ Which he won't offer to change. Yet. ]

Don't take this the wrong way but I'm multitasking rn so no, I don't have anything better to do, my bases are covered

[ his peepaw texting called out!!!! ]

And so you are trying to be my, what? Personal beauty assistant?

[ help... how... did this happen ]

You understand that I am fine with what I have, right?

No? You obv aren't bc you're trying to hide it with makeup instead of actually taking care of your skin

[ Is he

serious? ]

[ IS HE SERIOUS? ]

You are making several thoughtless assumptions, boy.

I would urge you to reconsider them.

[ Well that tone shifted on a dime. Over what, the makeup? It's strange... when he addressed his eyesight directly Silco had seemed less on edge than he is now, so is it the injury itself? Something else? ]

Look if it's personal for you I'm not trying to push it

Js there's little stuff that might help

Aren't you?

[ Yeah almost like the scar coverage is important to him. Weird. ]

This is not the job of "moisturizer". Leave it be.

Fine I already said I would right?

You want me to listen to you then listen to me too. I already told you I've got a name which makes this the second reminder

You drop that, I'll drop this

I'm glad you can be reasonable, Samuel.

See? We can all learn.

Yeah some of us (read: you) just need to be told twice instead of once

So what's up

Or perhaps I tend to get annoyed when someone talks about my looks, and become disrespectful. I've been called belligerent before.

[ Wait. ]

Are you asking what I am doing? Are you that bored?

[ god he needs to introduce jinx to this kid or something ]

Two things can be true, but I'm glad you admit you're disrespectful and forgetful, I heard ginger tea and gingko helps

[ A kernel of helpfulness in every text. ]

Yk you're responding to me too right, whenever you do that you're kind of roasting yourself

I have a small bit of advice for you, would you like to hear it?

[ He can't even fight that second bit. He's just not responding to it. ]

Sure, what's up

[ Why does it feel like this is not going to be flattering. ]

Did you see how I asked before I offered it?

[ You're right, bud. ]

Do that, next time.

Do you want some advice?

No.

Okay but it was good and now we're back to the real question

What's up

Lights and the ceiling. Just like what is on your end, I assume.

[ oooooh we're getting pedantic now. ]

That's where you're wrong bc some of us go outside

I didn't realize you actually had a sense of humor or that it was so terrible? 2 for 1

I have an excellent sense of humor, thank you.

[ it's just mean ]

Yeah you used the same joke that kids where I'm from grew out of around age nine

Perhaps your question needs work, then, if it can be so easily misconstrued.

There is no way you actually misconstrued what's up to mean hey Silco what's over your head rn

Why not? I can hardly imagine you're interested in what I'm doing right now.

I've asked like 3 times

[ He can't see it, but he is ROLLING HIS EYES ]

Fine.

I am currently working the books for my employer.

Happy? It is very exciting.

Right the mysterious employer who wouldn't appreciate you saying their name

Is it like accounting work? idk some of that stuff always seemed pretty cool

I'm not an accountant.

I am, however, very good at knowing where to put money to seek opportunity.

[ accountant... book cooker... they're the same. just one is used for misdeeds. ]

[ ... wait ]

Like an investor??

Occasionally. Sometimes it is that, sometimes it is a struggling company that needs a hand up, in the hands of those who are so very desperate for a little cash, and every now and again it is elsewhere, not to be seen from until we have need of it.

[ Investing, scrapping bankrupt companies for parts, bribery, and then just plain "overpaying" to hide funds. :) ]

Sounds like "investing" should be in quotes then

If it's not outright acquisitions it's favors with strings attached? The word "desperate" doesn't paint a great picture

[ Noctis, foolish and lacking in common sense, and yet strangely well-educated in business. ]

Oh no, how terrible of me, to assist the desperate and needy.

After all, if I were not able to, what would happen? Some second-rate loan shark might come in and offer them funds instead. Where would they be then?

[ As if A) He doesn't do that? and B) he's altruistic? ]

So what are you

The first rate loan shark? You're the one dressing up what you're doing instead of saying it outright, if it were clean and 100% legit why bother

I'm just the man who keeps the books. Nothing more.

I think you would need to look to my organization to find that deeper dark purpose. I'm only doing my job.

[ And slowly extorting them out of funds for his own criminal dealings. ]

You did this last time we talked too

Acted shady while hinting at smth illegal and then switched to acting like you're not in the know/aren't some big player

Your vibes are off

So what if they are? What are you going to do about it?

Wow you just accepted it......

Ig I just don't get the point of trying to be subtle about it [ Here, for a moment, he pauses. ]

Do you think you're a good guy?

I don't think I am. Nor do I think I am bad.

I'm merely the product of where I am from.

[ In short: A monster. ]

We Zaunites are simply different compared to the rest of you.

Somehow I thought you were gonna say smth different

Who's "you"? When you say different compared to the rest of "you"

Did you think I would start cackling about how only by being bad can one be good?

[ It was close. ]

Most of the rest of you Outsiders. You know, I've only met a few other people who understand what it is to act with a goal in mind, without worrying about good or evil.

It wouldn't have really shocked me? idk that seems like smth you'd do too

[ I'm sorry, man....... ]

Ig that'd make your life a lot easier and simpler at least huh

I don't cackle.

[ That's

That's what he has. ]

If everyone thought like me it would make things simpler, yes. More efficient as well.

Wow........

[ JUST LETS THIS SIT FOR A MOMENT ]

So you think more people should believe in anarchy? Or what

The ends justify the means?

There we are. You finally got there.

A goal is only as good as how much one is willing to take for it.

Are you strong enough for that? If everyone woke up tomorrow thinking like you

I'm strong enough for anything.

You're a fighter?

There are more strengths than merely physical, Samuel. I believe in a different sort of power.

I get that

I've got a guy on my team who's one of the smartest guys I've ever met, and he can still hold his own against daemons AND infantry

So again

You sure you want everyone to think like you?

Hm.

Well, if there were fewer suckers, I would be less successful, wouldn't I? Good point, kid.

Not the point I was making but you seriously hear what you want to. And we've been over this Silco, if it's a memory loss thing re: my name I got some gingko pills in another lucky bag that I don't need? Just lmk

I can drop them off later if you tell me your room number

Have you ever heard of a diminutive?

You mean another word for you calling me smth I told you not to call me? Yeah

Well, I got sick of calling you Samuel, so kid it was.

Better than boy.

You aren't getting my room number, by the way.

Damn

[ But how will I drop off secondhand hair products that I don't like to you now....... ]

Feels like I still learned plenty. I'll see you around, and yw

[ yw?????????????????????? what does that even mean........... ]

Right. Perhaps you will.

[ NOT! he thinks. Unfortunately, Synder will give away his room number anyway. yippee!! ]

[ And exactly two days later Silco will find the following bottle in front of his door, opened but barely used. ]

[ im fucking crying. he's going to leave it for a whole ass day until he trips over it. 😡 ]

( He leaves it a few days, out of deference for a reunion. )

There was a distinct lack of explosives, Silco-san.

[ you know he's been busy daughter wrangling ]

Materials issue, I can assure you. I didn't realize you two had met.

In passing, She was fairly suspicious, which makes sense.

How are you feeling about it?

Please, you've met me.

[ like father like daughter. ]

It has been a long time since I saw her. So it is... good.

[ Silco doesn't know how to be genuine about this. How to explain the combination of dread/worry/relief/elation that he's feeling. It's his daugther, that he's spent years worrying about, believing that she was dead. Then again they are here, and the last Kaiju they'd encountered was so, so dangerous due to the cult.

What if they encounter something like that again? What if something happens?

No, he can't think about that. ]

You're frantic, aren't you?

( Dad to dad. )

I'll keep an eye out. Not that either of you will need it, but I'd want the same for my girls.

I'm not frantic.

[ YES HE IS???? ]

Hm, just make sure she doesn't notice you. She might think I did it, and then I'd get an earful.

I can be subtle when I want to be, Silco-san, don't worry. An extra set of eyes won't hurt.

Hm.

[ He won't admit it. He's worried. Not just because he thinks the Kaiju present any specific threat, but... well.

Last time he talked to her back home had been...difficult.

Would she remember? Would she be angry with him all over again? He's suspended on a needle's edge. ]

Don't blame me if you get a bomb on you, hm? Or do the whole bumbling monk bit, I think you might be able to get off easy.

Rainbow Dragon could eat a bomb.

Probably.

But ah, I'll be careful. I won't make it too obvious. I can always send one of the reconnaissance curses her way, if you're ever worried. They're mostly invisible.

Mostly.

[ If he was going to bank on mostly... Well. Silco knew Jinx would beat those odds. ]

Hopefully she won't get into trouble, and any precautions will be wasted effort.

[ but. literally.
its jinx ]

I wouldn't have said you were an optimist, Silco-san. A pragmatist, more likely.

Jinx always surprises me. One never knows.

[ GIRL DAD!!!!!!!!!!!! ]

She seemed very lively.

( Unhinged, he means. )

[ and now for silco to accidentally give away just how.... Delusional he is-]

She's perfect.

( Ah, he understands that. His girls regularly commit crimes and yet. )

I'm glad for you. I know the circumstance could be better, but you no longer have to miss her.

Ah. Perhaps you are right.

It has been very long. Longer than I even realize, sometimes.

[ Longer than she maybe realizes. Longer than he'd ever intended. He'd thought taking out another universe would not have taken almost two years. He'd thought that maybe it would have gone faster.

Yet here he was. Yet again. Tossed into another mess.

Less of one, for certain. He would rather her here than in Kenos, where even the knowledge of her existence would have damned her. Oh, sometimes he thinks of his fraying mind, how close he'd been so often to completely becoming something truly monstrous. ]

Sometimes a wound is only painful when it's pressed upon.

( Silco keeps himself busy. He's not prone to hurting his feelings the same way Geto is. )

You'll find a way to fit that shape again before long. It isn't something easily forgotten. And you have allies. Maybe that will help.

Hm. Just seven months ago, I would have told you it's an open wound. The place I was at before had... imparted on me the loss.

[ He'd had her soul, after all. In his hands, kept close, at all times. Silco had hid her away, like a secret. Like something precious and special, all the while escalating the war over and over again. It had felt like an open wound, sharp and digging in. The reminder that if he lost, if he lost, then she was gone.

The time here had dulled it. The pain. The knowledge that she was alive moreso. He'd believed she was dead. She was not dead.

Did that make the wound heal faster, like a salve? Knowing that she was alive? He hadn't even known how — now he does, and it's that miracle that makes the undercity strong, keeps his eye useful, it's all because of shimmer. ]

Allies. Yes, I suppose I do. [ He never would have thought Geto would lift a finger, when they first met, but perhaps their shared... circumstances... well. He would consider Geto someone he would call, yes. ]

I find it funny, you know? It is a rarity, where I am from.

[ Doubly so, when the last "ally" he had, had decided to try and drown him in a river. ]

Mm. I know what you mean. I have the family but usually a lot of my work is done alone. But sometimes growth is possible. It mystifies me just as much.

( Certainly a human would not have been someone Geto would have allowed space in his life. Maybe he is changing. Or maybe he just doesn't view Silco in that light. )

If one of us gets to be lucky then I'll not stand by if I see a threat, that's all.

[ Maybe the both of them were growing, in their own ways. Silco wouldn't admit it as such, but then again... look at the two of them.

Look at what they're talking about now.

Hm. ]

Well, perish the thought about growth. It sounds like regressing.

[ The man says, stubbornly. ]

Regardless, it is appreciated. If you see something, of course.

But do let me know if I should repay you as well. I dislike unsettled debts.

I have no interest in holding you to anything, Silco-san. If it helps you to sit easier with it just know I am very, very bored. Who thought I'd miss the days where I could hunt down curses, mm? Now I have to stretch my limits in other ways.

Oh, that's very true, I suppose. LILITH doesn't do enough to keep you active. Or rather, their offerings are not, hm?

I should drag you along to help me with these gangs sometime. For enrichment.

The kaiju hardly offer up a challenge when there's so many earnest participants, you're right about that. But I'm used to being more active. This spinning of wheels is doing nothing.

So you absolutely should. For enrichment. Everyone's always on at me to participate more. Wouldn't this count?

Oh yes. Didn't you know? We're cleaning the gangs off of the street, and helping to bring something like peace to Neo Tokyo. Or at least a reduction in functioning gangs.

[ :) ]

That troublesome seedy underbelly, and all.

LILITH sanctioned?

At least the cleanup.

What happens after, well...

Well, if our overlords deem it necessary and I'm helping out a teammate then certainly I should give it my all.

Oh yes, I quite agree.

After all, why bring us here and leave us to idle? If we improve this place while we are here... all the better.

[ "Improve".

Silco thinks the criminal element is embarassing ]

You don't have to convince me. I've always been a man of the people.

Oh yes, of course. As am I.

Hence why we are both the most suited for the job.

Any time then, Silco-san.

Hm. I'll let you know. Perhaps after I get a few more things arranged. It might be fun to intimidate another club owner, hm?

Fun, certainly.

We're sorely lacking in that.

Hah. We'll make our own, won't we?

As much as we possibly can.

See you soon, Silco-san. Think of me, won't you ~

[Delivery time! A little green hummingbird drone is dropping off a small wooden box. Within it is...]

[A good selection of cigars, it seems. Not especially high quality, but not cheap, either. And here is a scrawled note included.]

Let's talk business, Mister Silco! Name the time and place.

- Sampo Koski

[ who's leaving packages for him?? After opening it and looking at the note he's just going to shoot off a quick message: ]

Business, huh? Not going to shortchange me again are you? [ silco WILL get ripped off again ]

Twelve Steps Down is a bit of a dive, but nobody will listen in on us there. At seven.

Shortchange? ME? Never!

See you there, my friend!

[And sure enough, he's even there a little early, all smiles and charm as always. (Jury is out on charm.) Oddly enough, he doesn't really look that out of place in a "dive" like this.]

Heya, Mister Silco. Like the present?

[ Huh from meeting Sampo before, he would have thought he'd look out of place, but he sure does look just as comfortable as anyone else here. Including Silco, who seems to already have a a place picked out for them in the corner. ]

Oh, yes. How kind of you.

[ He's already got a drink and a smoke. It's even one of the ones from Sampo, which means it doesn't smell like ass! What are non-smoking ordinances....]

So, what sort of business could being you here to me?

"Kind" is Sampo Koski's middle name.

[It is absolutely fucking Not.]

[Sampo is no smoker himself, but he's pausing to get a drink order from a passing server, before settling back in his seat with legs crossed.]

You told me a bit about your product. My question is, do you have a distributor?

Oh, of course it is.

[ He says with all the congeniality of someone who looked at a lie and said: yeah sure whatever ]

I suppose we should start with: which product?

[ scammer to scammer ]

[A little hum.]

Your most valuable.

Oh, yes.

[ a nod, a blink of one eye. ]

Is not everything valuable? I wouldn't go into a business if it wasn't. Are you talking about the one you... [ A tip of his head, airquotes practically as palpable as his cigar smoke:] "purchased"?

What's that tone for? You gave it to me fair and square. Why, I even thought you gave it out of the generosity of the season.

[A little laugh.]

But no. I think we talked about it before. Mm, what was it? It was right at the tip of my tongue...sh...sha....

Oh, you mean shimmer do you?

[ He looks surprised. He is not surprised in the slightest. ]

Now that is the most valuable, yes. Based on rarity alone. It's difficult to obtain, you see.

Obtain? You don't produce it?

[Please, Silco, tell him allllll about Shimmer production.]

I manufacture it.

[ SAMPO.... ]

In another universe. Some...shall we say difficult to obtain ingredients here.

[ Does he even really know the formula....

no ]

Oooh. Now that's a wrench in the machine there.

[A little tilt of the head.]

Need help there, too?

Oh?

And how do you propose to take up manufacturing?

[ Okay, it's a little sarcastic because it took him like a year of working on it in kenos with Sebastian, and several with singed, but still. People with powers are wild. Wow him! ]

Depends on how hard it is to manufacture. At the very least, there's plenty of technology around to use for your own needs.

[sorry silco he does not have breaking bad powers here]

But given you wanting to sell it, I suppose you have enough, anyways?

[ DAMN BRO... ]

What I want is not necessarily what I can have. It's Very limited.

I was thinking of selling it to Outsiders only, once... [ A wave of his hand. ] A few samples have been doled out, and their capabilities are clear.

[ aka he only gets three at a time sobbing... ]

Perhaps I could use your assistance with distribution. Not everyone would take something like this from me, after all.

A limited product. Now, you could drum up interest that way, but if you're really low on supply.... [He makes a bit of a OOOOF expression.] You're painting yourself into a corner there, pal. Especially if this thing is as addictive as you're saying.

[The demand will outpace everything. He leans forward, resting his chin against his hand.]

I could help out with it, sure. Have you ever given thought to like, diluting it?

Hm, we will see how limited.

[ aka...how much lilith will give him...]

I have. It's quite useful when diluted. Not quite the same properties.

[ He drags his fingers down his lips. ] Depending on how far, it could stretch the supply out. Within reason.

[Hm. Hmmmm. He drums his lips a little with his fingers.]

What properties does it have at its most diluted?

[ it's a good question! And fortunately he knows the answer. ]

Minor healing properties. In general, one can recover from a stab wound using it.

[Not a bad thing, but...]

Why would they go for that when we have nanobots and such things on the market? Is it quicker? More effective?

Marginally, perhaps.

[ It's a hell of a hill they have, isn't it?? ]

It works in a matter of hours, rather than days. The advantage is that it's addictive. A few attempts, and... [ A shrug. ] Perhaps it will be more so.

[ Unfortunately, Silco doesn't know yet, it's NOT addictive thanks to LILITH! yippee! ]

[Another drumming of fingers over his lips.]

What are you looking to get out of it? Have as many people taking it as possible?

For outsiders? It is an easy method to guarantee that LILITH knows I am participating in their...requirements.

[ Essentially: he can hand out liquid power, and not get into danger. ]

For the rest of this lot... [ The people here, he means, a vague gesture at the rest of the patrons at the bar. ] I see people without power.

Do you know what happens to the powerless, when that suddenly shifts?

[ there will be a photo send to silco's oculars in which an exaggeratedly blown up photo of silco as santa claus is placed on the photo wall beside him in a maid outfit. ]

Do you not believe you are a touch too old to be playing dress up?

[ Silco like:

]

I do. LILITH doesn't, clearly.

Did you have to make it so big?

I suppose you live up to your title. You must be a bad daddy, if you're too consumed with playing all on your own. I can only pity the children.

You thought this was large? The emperor's portrait hung in the halls was much larger. I held back.

If they require me for entertainment, they were doomed from the start. Best find someone interested in taking care of them.

[ Says actual parent, silco ]

Do you enjoy bragging about minute things like portrait sizes? What does it matter how large your emperor's portrait is? After all, we used to have a saying about what it meant when a noble had a big portrait.

Oh, and Silco Claus was not exactly that? How disappointing.

[ bad daddy, silco claus, actual parent silco ... so many titles for one man. ]

I simply used it as a frame of reference. Especially considering the fact that you must be accustomed to more humble means of displaying your likeness to the world. I thought it would be educational for you.

What was the saying?

No, it wasn't.

[ How dare you use his name whimsically! ]

I don't. Display my likeness, oh but my enemies did. [ Wanted posters... ]

The saying is, the larger the portrait, the smaller the... well. Let us just say that we all know they are compensating.

Then your enemies aren't doing enough if they're not even to this scale. Perhaps, they didn't really want you dead. [ why always so ominous with them... ]

That is unsurprisingly immature. Only a witch doctor or a quack could come up with such a strange conclusion. This sounds more like a case of jealousy to me.

If they don't have the means, they can just say so.

Oh on the contrary. When I was a boy, wanted posters were much closer to death sentences.

[ Of course he'd have some in his violent youth, before he vanished. ]

Do you think it is that immature? How big was your portrait, then?

Yet, you stand before us today. Not as a dead man. Am I just to take this as your natural flair for dramatics? [ even if he knows this just means that silco was a survivor...

maybe not unlike himself. ]

You are being incredibly forward today, it seems.

How big were you desiring me to say? Or would you have preferred I bared myself to you until you're satisfied? Unfortunately, I have no intention of the latter.

Not for lack of trying. Let's just say I have told death to look the other way more than once.

[ Definitely a survivor. Not that he hasn't known death's particular sting well, given where he came from, where death was impermanent. He knows better than to chance that now, again. ]

No? You're the one talking about it. I doubt you would measure up.

[ jesus ]

Ah, but perhaps the better way to say it is: there is a certain pride that some take in such things, and they always seem to over-compensate in the oddest of ways. At least in my experience.

Perhaps, death found you more dreadful than half the things in hell. You should take it as a compliment.

[ is it though? ]

Why doubt when you've all but felt it?

[ why are they both like this ]

How magnanimous I am, that is. If there is anything I compensate for, it's simply for the incompetencies for those around me, don't you think?

Oh I do. Death and I, we are old acquaintances, you see. I should hope that even a passing experience with me is enough to reject me.

[ It is, actually. ]

Have I? You know, it may pain you to know, I never even noticed. It must have been insignificant enough to escape it.

[ i close my eyes ]

Ah, but I should say so. I do understand, the burden of leadership is that one must always adjust for incompetence. There is hardly an escape from it.

Death may very well change their mind on a whim. Maybe they are motivated like spite, just like any other person.

[ death was persistent, after all. ]

Really now? And not just because your feeble thighs were far too numb to be able to feel it?

[ when an innocent christmas thread... ]

Exactly, so perhaps this is a fine time for you to spend less time questioning me, and more time focusing on yourself and your own people.

Oh, but death would have to outdo my own spite. I can assure you, it is a high bar.

[ something something he's going to go home and die something something ]

Hm, perhaps it was your significant weight that numbed them. I understand it can have this effect.

[ mean girls!!! ]

Oh, you see, I would agree, but my people are a world away. I know this is shocking, but the people here are not mine. I make no claim to leadership here. [ yet ]

Why would they compete with you when they can just take you forcibly? Perhaps, its spite and yours can intermingle spectacularly.

[ no silco has to live forever ]

And where do you think this weight derives from?

[ i'm crying. ]

Really? Perhaps if you left a better impression, you could have adopted the elves.

Well, I would say it would have to take it from my cold, dead hands, but it is death, hm?

[ he's TRYIN' to ]

Oh, I thought it was all those rich foods your type are so keen on consuming.

[ my irl guffaw ]

The elves? Please. Nobody is worthy of my attention like that except for my people.

Maybe death will take a far more light-handed method. For example, by seducing you with promises of a life that far exceeds anything your mind could possibly dream up.

[ silco, king of the underworld. eresh would cry. ]

You certainly have an imagination on you. I would correct that normally during banquets, the food is not there to eat but to admire. I figure I should let you know, lest you embarrass yourself by stuffing yourself full.

[ rich foods is still taking me out ]

And who are your own people, pray tell?

Death would have to find a way to make its offer tempting. I have heard that one before.

[ somethingsomethingcrausomethingsomethingofferdgodhoodsilcoisnormalsomething ]

Ah, all that waste, of course. What better way to show how frivolous and wasteful you all are, if not by wasting that which others struggle to obtain.

Like my people, for example. The ones who do all the work, make all the products that industry thrives on. Those who struggle for food to eat, clean water to drink, breathable air. We are stronger and more driven than those who waste could even imagine. We create and we flourish despite it all.

Whether you have heard it before or not, the fact that Death may already have a foot in the door with you still speaks to something, am I wrong? [ as they say, it's always easier the second time. ]

I will be sure to pass your message along one day. But, since we aren't in the empire, you will have to forgive me for being unable to do anything but offer my condolences. [ to which there are actually none. ]

I see. You do all sound rather reliable. Trust me, nobles tend to be far more focused on their own internal affairs. Considering the food may be poisoned, perhaps you all are being spared. I admit, the most shocking thing about all of this is... you have people to call as such.

I expected you to be a much lonelier, solitary man.

It speaks to how it often leaves through the same door empty handed, certainly. I suppose it is one way to find me amenable to its charms, by giving me its job.

Oh please, do not worry about the condolences. They would be as meaningless as your food, apparently. All for show. [ JESUS BOYS COME ON ]

Come now, Callisto. Are you not a leader yourself, or is that all a lie? Can you thin of someone more [ lonely?? ] solitary than the one who holds it all in check from the top? Or in our case, the top of the bottom.

[ Like the lightest waste rising to the top of the sump. ]

Or maybe Death genuinely thinks it's time for you get some much needed rest.

How impudent. My condolences are quite rare, you should have taken it while you had the opportunity. [ lol. ]

Is it so lonely when you have all but steeled your resolve for it? Besides, whether it be ten years or ago, or now... isn't it a fact that there are no more or less people who stand beside such individuals? I merely meant that you thought highly of your own people.

That's the shock.

Death should keep its opinions to itself.

As should you, it seems.

[ These two are HATERS but hey at least they're mutually hating. ]

Ah yes, because I think so little of the rest of you? Perhaps you should instead consider, that I find my people impressive, by contrast. Many of them I have worked alongside, and fought alongside for most of my life. Those I think poorly of are the ones who have betrayed our cause.

[ Cause, huh? Well that's... a bit more serious. ]

Nonsense, you love it so much you can hardly contain yourself.

[ he can tell even through text. 🫰 ]

I did not say that. I simply thought you expressed more emotion today than you did than when you gave a grieving child a sword. [ he says as if he played no part in that. ] Your cause?

... and how noble a cause would that be for it to come up now?

You and I must have very different definitions of that word.

[ He doesn't even say it. ]

Please, that grieving child had lived an easier life than any of the children I've known. [ Silco, as always, is so callous.]

I do not make it a point to tell everyone my cause upon meeting them, Callisto. We have had hardly the conversational time. My cause is to give my people more than runoff, an independent state free from those who refuse to even breathe our very air. It is a cause for many of us, but I have been the one leading it for a very long time.

Love? You are entirely correct. I suppose I should have used a much more realistic word between the two of us. Thoroughly enjoyed? Couldn't get enough of? You'd die for it?

[ dw, he got you. ]

I suppose his life wasn't all too miserable. At the very least, it isn't the end. Thanks to you. [ but, should the kid be thankful when he now lives within neo tokyo in just a precarious a situation as any and with not much more hope than he had in his own hometown? the only difference was now they begged for scraps from the outsiders too. aka, callisto isn't much better in his assessments. ]

Is that so different than acting as the emperor of your very own kingdom? [ the point being on acting. to be honest, while it may sound like treason in some ways, callisto isn't the tiniest bit offended. ]

Delusional, are you? To put words in my mouth like that.

[ Callisto could do the speaking for him... (NO) ]

Perhaps the experience will continue to teach him a lesson worth learning. He will become stronger for it. [ Silco wants to see every kid get fucked up and become a monster though. Just look at jinx! ]

Oh quite different. I could be uprooted anytime if someone thought I was slipping. It is far more precarious than what you all deal with. Besides, I'm one of them. Many of us grew up in the mines together.

[ The few that are left living now. The number has dwindled to nearly nothing. ]

If not in your mouth, then pray tell, where should I have put them?

[ truly (no) him larping as silco ]

Or he will simply crumble by the next year. Not all people acquire strength at their worst hours. [ their ongoing gamble... in a year, we check back on this kid. remind me... ]

I have a hard time envisioning you as a very good miner. You're far more well-suited to being what you are now. [ whatever that is through callisto's eyes. ] As for being uprooted... well, the royal family may not be exactly what you think.

[ shoulda put them up your ass]I find words like these are best left unspoken.

If he crumples, then that is his weakness. Does he deserve to continue, if he does? My people are not given that luxury, why should he?

[ damb silco ]

I am better suited for it, the foremen would have agreed with you. To be fair, I had helped them organize. Prior to what I do now, I was quite the community builder. [ Half of one. He didn't do the community stuff, he did the planning, while the amenable half of their little operation did all the social things.

Silco, however, will not mention that. ]

[ damn... rejection.

but, at the mention of "my people" again— ] Do you not think that borders on obsession? You will find most "people" like to be cut loose sometimes. [ says callisto. ]

Is that what we are calling it now? A "community builder." You did seem to do a decent job on the streets here, as well. From what it sounds, it seems the people may be easier to move here than back in your lands.

[ didn't silco say something to the effect at the gala, or was he simply presuming the man's objectives would remain the same in any place? callisto finds that people's character was the hardest thing of all to change. his own included. ]

Hah, he's being cut loose to see what he will do, isn't he?

[ In the end, Silco doesn't care about the kid. Hell!! His own kid is here, so he's... 100% more focused on that now. ]

Of course I do. I speak the language they do. We are similar in kind, and they respond. Especially to an experienced hand.

[ Which he does have. To everyone's dismay. ] Hopefully they will continue to take guidance well.

Not just him, but your people. No one appreciates a ruler in which does not know when to leave the ball early, for example. [ who relaxes around their own boss, for example? definitely no cedrick. though that might be for entirely different reasons... like callisto totting a corpse around a noble's birthday party. nbd. ]

For you, let's hope that's the case. Well, either way, it seems you're a man full of suspicions, doubt, and zero room for trust. I am sure you will do just fine even without my advice.

... and now, you have something to look forward to in the cafeteria.

Edited (actually where is the photowall, assume i have the right location help) 2025-02-15 06:06 (UTC)

I'm a leader that doesn't attend the proverbial "ball" at all.

[ Silco has the wildest nightclub in zaun and he rarely shows his face, introverted little motherfucker. ]

I did fine without your advice to start, so perhaps I will, hm?

[ Silco and Callisto are just. So mean to one another. Good for them. ]

Perhaps next time I am in the cafeteria, I will think to light it on fire. Especially if there's another picture of me on there I don't like.

who're you roadtripping with.

i want pics.

deets.

also don't die i'll be pissed.

Don't worry, Jinx. I have people. I'm not going to die.

As it is, I'm with several teammates who have been fairly reliable when danger strikes.

[ And of course, because Silco will never, ever, ever say no to Jinx, she gets an image of the inside of his campervan from his implant, which features Ishmael, Toji, Kabru and Vergilius. What a fun crew! ]

I don't know if you've met anyone in here yet. Thus far, I've been told not to smoke, and the air is worse than the old days outside.

[ deets are: peepaw can't smoke everyone hates it :( ]

oh! i know fergy. and bestie there. he likes the gossip hustle. it was cute. he was fishing about.

dunno the other two.

also you cant smoke? suuuuux.

Fergy?

[ Who tf jinx...

Suddenly, though he is eyeing Kabru with suspicion. He knows he's bit of a gossip, but fishing...

ruh roh ]

Apparently, people have delicate lungs around here. They wouldn't last a day where we're from, even with the scrubbers.

[ weenies ]

fergy with the killer eyes. dead inside. something like that im guessing.

aww. babies. they are kinda cute though.

Hah. Got it.

[ He does NOT get it. 'Fergy?' he mouths, but shakes his head instead. He is, however, going to call him that and see what happens. lol]

I don't know if I would call my... traveling companions cute.

Now are you going to share who you're traveling with? I don't want to have to worry about the crowd you're running with.

[ silco she is a terrorist ]

[ wow leave her logic along it's fergy now. ]

pointy ears is here. the guy who got you all worked on the network. two others i dont really know.

[ jinx always has nicknaming rights it's true ]

Which pointy ears? There are a few. Do annoy Kaladin, though. For me. Just in case he starts getting too comfortable.

the stubby sad one who doesnt know who he wants to be.

ugh. i guess. i can poke him with a stick.

Ah. Hm.

[ Hm is it. He's seen what Hunter's afraid of. Jinx might not be a bad influence on the kid, actually. ]

Oh just refuse his constant attempts to "help" and let him know how worthless it is. He'll be upset if he can't help you.

i dont get why you dont use that. hes just a bleeding heart.

Bleeding hearts are not in short supply here.

He just happens to be the loudest and the most...persistent of them.

[ And... ]

He also seems the type that could be more than that. If he let himself.

[ i close my eyes. there it is. ]

[ does she want to poke this? yes. always. all the time.

and yet. she feels this is going down a path silco himself isn't prepared for. ]

more what though?

His background is not that different from ours, from what I have gathered.

There is potential in that. He wastes his effort on the foolish and frivolous. Instead, it could be directed.

[ It really is just Silco (tm) over here. ]

[ oh. she pretends to trace the word potential in the air. it's empty. it all feels empty now.

did she ever live up to silco's potential? could she ever? even if he never looked down on it, the castles he built in his mind . . . she has no way of imagining them herself. ]

in your hands?

Better mine than those who would waste the potential.

[ Silco's obsession with monsters has always been like this, this affinity towards something that was bigger and meaner than everything else around. Being the bigger monster to protect the broken parts inside, but he wanted others to be like that, too.

It proved something. Just like with Kaladin, who had taken his pain and shaped it into altruism. Silco wanted to prove it wasn't sustainable.

That everyone would fall along the same lines he did. ]

Or maybe I'm just being petty to see him angry.

[ oh my godddddd. ]

no way?!?! you?!?!

Isn't it better if something can serve two purposes?

Besides, I so rarely see someone get this worked up about it. You noticed, didn't you?

[ Silco may be a cold, cruel, elderly crime lord. (he is not that old)

But in his soul he really is just a hater. ]

he was pretty into it.

i would have called it foreplay if i didnt know better.

[ he blanches. ]

I, for one, am glad it isn't. It would take all the fun out of it.

[ because he HATES him ]

[ smooth. ]

sure. fun.

The petty enjoyment, then?

[ The whole "tearing something good down" impulse. :')

But even though one of his favorite things is bullying kaladin... ]

Do you have a plan for when you get to your location? Anything you are working on?

cant argue that!

i figured with all the weather anomalies, especially lightning, ill just use a giant lightning rod hooked to an electromagnetic railgun.

Ah, naturally. It makes the most sense.

[ He doesn't understand it at all but he knows it's going to be flashy and explosive and that's all that actually matters. ]

Hopefully you won't lack for supplies. The city nearby should not lack for extras, at least for someone like us who can be resourceful.

[ie: steal ]

shouldnt be too hard. the principles basic enough. two rails, a rod for conductivity, projectives and maybe a scope for aiming.

lets see if it comes together though.

Hm. Not too hard for you. Nobody else could do it.

[ Silco may be biased. ]

[ this is patently untrue, but whatever. she can soak it up. ]

yep. while everyones getting up close ill knock it out a mile away.

[ Silco believes it™ ]

Even better. It will never see it coming with all the distractions.

They're fairly large, I would not recommend getting close.

like im gonna walk up to some big scary monster.

anyway im super fast now. shimmerized.

Ah. You are?

[ He still doesn't really know the full scope of it. Not really. She doesn't look like she's on shimmer, but the eyes... They're a dead giveaway. ]

I suppose that would make sense. I haven't seen you in action yet.

[ you will, she thinks. someday, that knowledge will squirrel itself through his head. either he'll remember. or she'll tell him. when is the real question looping through their heads. when will jinx reveal it? when will silco remember? when will this tentative, fragile space they're making shatter?

she feels like she's doling out her pieces. like candy. like bait. what will silco react to? what will he bite? will he sink his teeth into it? will he rip it apart?

jinx feels so methodical. smart. cunning. devious. so. so. so

so like silco.

it makes her weep. here she was, being him and he doesn't know. he doesn't understand. how can she make him understand without tearing herself apart in the process how how how

—

anyway! ]

youll get a chance. or ill show off sometime.

[ hahaha. ]

[ He's blissfully ignorant. So, so blissfully ignorant. Between texting his daughter and verbally lacerating Vergilius all day in the van...

He doesn't know how clever she's being. Devious. Cunning. He would be proud, could he recognize it.

Wouldn't he be?

He's so, so ignorant. What a place for him to be in, when he is so used to holding all of the information close to his chest, ready to use it when the mood strikes. He doesn't know he is on the other end right now. ]

You? Show off? Say it isn't so!

[ the both of them can be sarcastic sometimes ]

you know how it is.

gotta establish my style at the right moment.

Oh of course. Make the biggest impact, and all.

You never have to show off for me, you know.

[ this is because he thinks she's perfect anyway though ]

[ she knows. she hates that she knows that now without powder's feelings bleeding through every day. her guilt. her painful need to prove herself. to be useful. to be necessary. to never be left behind again.

but no one truly left her. she made them leave. she's so good at that. the best. she bites down on her lip. tastes her own tainted blood. ]

i know.

watch me anyway.

Don't worry, I won't look away.

[ he won't. he'll see.

they'll all see. ]

yeah. i know.

[ Eventually, he'll have to. ]

You'll keep me updated in the meantime, won't you?

Tell me if something happens.

[ He expects mission updates, he's going to get shenanigans via candids ]

yeah yeah

ill keep you posted.

Good. Hopefully, I'll get to see the gun before it goes off.

maybe ill add some fireworks to it. if theres time.

Oh yes, if there's time of course. Kaiju first, and all.

[ Silco literally does not actually care that much about the kaiju.

then again look at him. What's he doing? ]

If you need more hands, tell me. I can get you some.

[ ugh ]

i can manage.

[ don't ugh him!! he's just trying to ~~be relevant~~ help ]

I know, I know. Of course you can. Let an old man offer regardless, even if you don't take me up on it.

[ He wants her to, though. ]

[ annoying! especially since there are things she would like his help on. questions she still wants answered! conversations that are all packed in her head! and she can't. bring. it. up.

it bubbles up in her, toxic and severe. how she tamps it down, she doesn't even know. ]

so im teamed up with everlight. also new in revelation.

whos useful.

[ Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? He soldiers on, oblivious.

How long can he remain so? ]

In Revelation, Set is reliable. If you ask for something, he will provide it, and he is a god. [ He doesn't say that it is because Set and Silco have an agreement, about their children. It persists. Set would burn cities, if it meant Jinx's survival. ] Lilias and Jinwoo are also reliable on the team. They seem to be willing to offer aid if needed. Nanami owes me, and may be willing to help in a pinch, and of course...Kaladin cannot help but insert himself if he thinks it is the right thing to do. [ ugh ]

On Everlight there is Hunter, and Raidou is an obnoxious meddling type, but can be directed if he thinks something is the right thing to do. Yor is stronger than she looks and Laios will do anything for kaiju parts. Godzilla is easily incensed and directed, if needed, but is quite large, and I would not recommend without observing his behavior patterns first.

[ something about this wording feels so different. he's not even listing uses, he's listing qualities. it takes her aback for a moment. ]

youve been here long.

[ that's all she can say. he has this whole life here. she has her life there. she's . . . jealous. ]

Half a year, give or take.

[ It's all so complicated. How does he describe this, or what was before, or —

So he doesn't. She's here, isn't that what matters? ]

Long enough to get the lay of the land, and understand the personalities at play, at the very least. In between dodging the giant monsters. Unfortunately, it also means that most of them also know me.

[ Silco's so used to working in the shadows, where people don't see his every move, but he's been tracked from the very beginning here. It's inconvenient, though he's adapted. Make big moves in one place, so nobody notices when he does something else where they can't see. ]

so what?

its not like theyre gonna follow us back to zaun. what can they do really?

Of course not. They could kill me, however. I do not trust that it would result in my return to where we came from.

Or they could interfere in my work here. That would be inconvenient, at best.

[ Sure, it doesn't really matter in the long run. Most of it wouldn't matter. Still, Silco needs to stay busy, and to stay busy, he needs things to do, other than complain and smoke — which he does plenty of that too. ]

[ wait. hold on. ]

so what happens if someone dies???

They die.

[ Well, as far as they know. ]

It happened to an outsider a few months ago. There is no way to know if they returned home, or not. I'm of a mind that it is best to avoid it.

[ silco is dead. very very dead. what does that mean?

will the cycle repeat? ]

yeah. course.

[ If he dies here, and doesn't return, what happens at home?

He can't let that happen.

But he doesn't want to leave Jinx, either. It worms in his head, like a stone in his shoe. Every time he thinks about it. He keeps thinking about it. Why is he gone? What happened? Who managed to take him away? He would never do it willingly.

He'd been so scared that she would leave. Now it seems the opposite happened. ]

I know it seems obvious, but with LILITH's technology, it seems like it could be something that is circumvented. Unfortunately, it is not.

[ jinx is not something who prides herself on sense. sense as a concept is meaningless. the lanes don't make sense. they gorge on each other as much as piltover does. everyone chasing some pinnacle, just trying to make it to the top. grasping, grabbing, greedy little shits.

she never gave a single fuck. not when silco was alive, not when he passed on. so what if they looked up to her? so what if she killed some pigs? heroism? might as well lose some braincells in the crossfire.

he's not coming back. he'll die here or remain here. impotent.

maybe she should have killed him when she saw him.

but it's too late. too late now. so. what sense is left? how do you move from incontrovertible proof? the gunpowder on her fingertips that brushed over his lifeless face. can she do this all over again? should she try to save him?

or build the perfect coffin and let her curse do the work? ]

nothing's obvious here. just got to crack it all open.

That is one way to reveal all their nasty little secrets.

[ He doesn't know. It's just...Jinx. Right? Her usual self, doing what she does. Breaking things apart, forging a new way. Taking the pieces and making something new.

Still.

He wonders.

But he can't exactly question either, can he? }

You will do just that, won't you?

no point otherwise.

got to dig for the truth. and to get out.

Do you think that it will offer a way? Out of here?

[ He doesn't know about that. There are geniuses here already, but... it's Jinx. Silco thinks Jinx could do anything she set her mind to. Even that. (He is delusional.) ]

Is that what you are looking for? There are many truths along the way. You'll need to find direction in your inquiry.

still got to start somewhere right?

truth cascades. one truth will lead to the next and the next.

til it all comes tumbling down.

You do. You have to start somewhere.

I recommend with LILITH's technology. You can make more sense of it than I can.

It may also be our ticket home, if they refuse to follow through in the end.

ill bring it down.

Good.

[ Silco, of course, doesn't know. How can he know? It would bring him down too. ]

sall good.

ill take care of it.

[ till it all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling doooown. ]

[ so after a certain comment, of course tezcatlipoca is dming silco immediately ]

now why is it that I get to confirm that you're a dad from your kid mentioning it instead of you

don't tell me she's a family embarrassment

Of course not. She's more than anyone would have thought she was.

It was for her protection. Not from you, just in general.

I don't make a habit of bringing it up. Especially since before... You can imagine what would have happened, if anyone knew.

I get it for kenos more or less. I'm assuming she was yima's bargaining chip for you?

here though? I'm surprised you still feel the urge I guess. what's there to protect her from?

When I arrived there, she was dying in my arms. Or had been. The prospect of her being alive was something that kept my eyes on the end.

[ Tezca is one of the few he will admit this to. ]

As it stands, it hasn't been something we... Talked about much even before. Not with anyone else. The Data being made public somewhat changes that.

[undercity's worst kept secret etc etc ]

well no wonder you were so devoted to the cause. kind of surprised you didn't off yourself when you got here too in that case

have to admit though. it's why you didn't strike me as the fatherly type. especially not the adopting a wayward child kind

how'd that come about?

I refuse to let myself go out like that.

[ That's it. Lmao. Just couldn't do it when he lived this long already. And then... ]

Then I found out she survived. It's enough to keep one going.

It's complicated. How I found her, the circumstances. I'd just killed someone important. To Zaun, to get, to me. The person who made me who I am today.

She helped though, accidentally. We were both tossed aside by the people around us when we made a mistake. I know what it is, to suffer that alone.

[ He's actually a little surprised that Silco shares the story, considering how long it's taken to get to this, but he's pleased. After all, it fills in the missing pieces perfectly. It's difficult for him to imagine Silco seeing a girl crying in the rain and suddenly having a change of heart.

But if it all comes back to him? Yeah. That's the self-centered guy that he knows.

It's an assessment he keeps to himself, naturally. ]

poetic. maybe there's a god in your world taking a peek at both of you with irony like that.

for me though? that answers my curiosity. who knew that my acolyte had a secret soft spot!

you want me to look out for her?

[ IT'S FOR THE BEST he literally wouldn't care if she wasn't just like him fr ]

If there's a god in my world, it had best keep to themselves, lest I get my hands on them.

[ What's he REALLY gonna fuckin' do???? ]

I don't have a soft spot. [ He protests. He does. ]

She'll protest if she finds out. You should probably look out for her anyway. She has a propensity to get into trouble.

yeah no shit she does. she's your kid so I wouldn't expect anything different. like father like daughter or so I'd be guessing here

it's the same kind of looking after I extend to you so she won't notice I'm guessing

[ like. he knows his help ain't shit... but he might save you from drowning exactly once ]

she take after you in denying the blatantly obvious to your face too? I ain't going to make fun of you for loving your kid silco

Let's just say she chose the name Jinx herself.

[ It really is like father like daughter here ]

Hm. Then if you wouldn't mind. I have other eyes as well, but... every time I look away, she ends up in some kind of trouble.

[ he's so tired look at the white stripe in his hair that is from HER ]

It isn't shame about it. In Zaun, everyone knows better than to bring it up, or address it, but here... the number of people that know is growing.

Well, I suppose everyone knows now, and I doubt they will keep their mouths shut.

not shame so what? caution? this is when I go back to our conversation from earlier. this is a better framing than taking a shower though for sure.

this ain't kenos or zaun and there's not going to be people that know better. hell considering your popularity you're right. it's going to be brought up intentionally

you ready for that?

Kaladin already has.

[ Tried to convince him to be a "better person" and everything. ]

But if anyone thinks to use it, I will put an end to them. I have no choice in it getting out.

I do have a choice in how I will deal with it, if someone is foolish enough to think they can use her. They will be given a lesson in how we deal with things in Zaun.

I support that obviously. hell I support it a bit more than the usual ventures.

but you think anyone here is up for that? if you think someone has the stomach for that kind of move I'm all ears because far as I can tell half of these people are barely warriors. if the kaiju were able to chat they'd allow themselves to be crushed rather than extinguish a life. no matter the cost. seoul is proof enough.

not saying you have to relax of course. but you might be chasing ghosts is my point.

Edited 2025-03-20 04:14 (UTC)

[ He hates that he's right. Most of them won't be able to stomach it. Even those he dislikes are... weak-willed, too willing to do what they saw as morally correct, rather than what was Correct. It was a distinct difference.

Silco still remembered protecting her for a year and a half. Helpless, volatile, unable to do anything. Just a soul, stuck in a gem. She was free now, this wasn't the land before, but even still, he keeps it in a safe place, even if it's cold and inert, he keeps it on him often enough. He can't help it. The old habits.

It's like a reassurance, even now. That she is alive. ]

It is an old habit. It's the one that worked.

[ And really, does Silco know how to do anything but squeeze too tight? ]

I had a feeling. it’s why I brought it up.

but sticking to the rules of home hasn’t exactly worked out for you all the time has it?

[ this smells like therapy ]

Not always, no. It's a risk assessment.

Besides, the rules here are hardly better.

if you say so. don't know zaun so can't make the comparison myself

just pointing out that some habits are worth reevaluating. stay too rigid and you're making blind spots

[ He's right. Silco is good at adapting, he has in some ways, but in others...

He's carrying the leftover burden of not just Zaun, but Kenos too. It still settles with him, still rides with him. Every action is filtered through two lenses, and both are broken. ]

Right, right. Advice from a god, is it? I'll take it under advisement.

[ Normally, this means: fuck off. To Tezca, it means he'll think about it. ]

all I ask

well. in this case anyways. gotta keep you on your toes for when I’ll hit you up demanding weed and/or kaiju offal

and swing by the bar sometime next week. hit me up so I can make you a glitter since it’s your drink and all

[ Next week of course being very much intentional. He figures Silco will have had another conversation by then, after all. ]

Your demands become as varied as your domains, is that it?

I'll swing by. I'll admit I want to see how it holds up compared to the real thing. You can tell me too.

ha. don't get your hopes up there. can tell you it ain't at all like your shit

but it's a fun novelty. that's more the point

won't even make you play the dice game unless you want to

yo. was doing a little divination for someone else and it occurred to me that you should get one too. the calendar of the azteca has a unique fortune for every day, and since matching up your birthday to it is near impossible, I'm just assigning you one. 10-cuetzpalin, atl is your day, so here's your fortune.

Tezcatlipoca is the provider of the Spirit Soul (Teyollia) for days with numeral 10 (mahtlactli). The associated bird for this day is the Great Horned Owl (Tecolotl). Mahtlactli is considered to be a lucky number.

Day Cuetzpalin (Lizard), known as Kan in Maya is governed by Huehuecoyotl, the Trickster, as its provider of tonalli (Shadow Soul) life energy. Cuetzpallin signifies rapid reversals of fortune. It is a good day to work on your reputation through actions, not words.

The thirteen day period (trecena) that starts with day 1-Atl (Water) is ruled by Chalchihuihtotolin. These are 13 days of instability and unexpected events, of accidents and coincidences: these are good days to gamble a little on a long-shot; bad days to gamble a lot on a sure thing. Every day rollercoasters between all-good and all-bad, between rapture and terror.

This trecena advises the priest-warrior to perfect the art of shapeshifting: only by mimicking the nature of water do we become an agent of change rather than a target of it. The purified heart casts no reflection in the smoking mirror.

[ Huh.

Silco has no way of translating his birthday/nameday/whatever they have in runeterra to the calendar here. (~~League uses release dates as birthdays which doesn't seem right so!~~

But hey, he'll take this. ]

Mimicking the shape of water... I remember you mentioning adaptation. I suppose this fits right in with that, doesn't it?

[ Tezcatlipoca certainly does, but he's keeping the actual day a secret. Silco is getting jumpscared by his not!birthday, naturally :) ]

yep

there's some truth to divination and how the day you're born influences a life. nice little combo of the history of your soul and a little bit of fate. so obviously had to reflect that in the one I picked

[ TEZCA!!! ]

You know how I feel about fate, but history certainly proves your point.

And the smoking mirror? That makes me think of you, actually. Especially since you apparently rule over my day. Heh.

[ YEAH HE NOTICED ]

as it should. that's me, after all.

tezcatl ipoca. the smoking mirror. obsidian.

maybe I'll see if I can scrounge up a nice ritual mirror for you. can add it to your shrine for yours truly. ♥

[ does he think silco has one? absolutely not. but he's teasing him. ]

[ He absolutely doesn't have one. ]

Mm, it's a shame I don't have the shield you made me anymore, isn't it?

Otherwise, it would look fetching with it, as it is now, it will be rather plain.

You'll have to forgive me if I have no purified heart, though. I suspect that one will elude me.

sure is. worked hard on that damn thing and just to be lost to the void? oh well. not like I'm making you another though. wouldn't exactly have the same significance

as for the purified heart well

maybe you should meditate on that one boss

[ like. 🧍‍♀️ bro... ]

Well, there's no Quetzalcoatl for me to kill, so I agree. Still, it is a shame.

[ man what's that MEAN... ]

Meditate.

Seriously?

not literally! unless you want to but yeah have a hard time imagining you doing it

meditate as in think about why I'm sending this your way

and no I won't tell you the answer ♥ defeats the purpose

[ Teeth grinding. ]

Right. Of course.

Well, perhaps I'll try and figure it out, then. Just for you.

[ There is no heart but you know. A sarcastic one could go there too. ]

[Well, that ended abruptly. Understandable, though. Sometimes, people need to conduct their business meetings in secret, away from prying eyes.]

[Besides, he has something of Silco's that he needs to return.]

[He uses it to knock on the door.]

Silco. It's me.

[ Well, he'd certainly left quick, but once the game was over with, there wasn't much reason to stick around, now was there.

He slid the door open, looking every but as in control as he did before, but maybe the slight smile that twitched across his lips said it all. ]

You came all they way down here to return my flask?

[ He doesn't even block the door, letting him in as he pleases. ]

Of course. What use do I have for it?

[He's stepping in without even any hint of hesitation, before pulling it out of his pocket. Waggle waggle. Take it from him.]

I took a swig from it. Hope that was alright.

Seems like you found plenty of use for it, then.

[ He nears him, slides right into that personal space bubble. He looks up at him, his head tipped. Fingers slide to his, to try and take the flask, though his fingers only reach out to touch it. They drift there, not really all that interested in taking it back quite yet. Spider-like fingers that brush his. ]

Is that all you came for?

Depends.

[Silco slides against him so neatly, as always, like a magnet. Like he's meant to be here, nestled in all of Vergilius's curves and hard lines. His problematic little puzzle piece.]

[He tilts his head, the softness of the man's fingers over his own not unnoticed, but. He has to ask:]

....Are you okay?

[A tinge of concern, given what happened earlier.]

[ Was he... Concerned?

His lips twitch, reflexive, almost uncertain. ]

Oh, much better.

[ Especially since...

His fingers stay on his, a little drag in the same motion he'd made earlier when they'd been talking. A reminder that he'd noticed. ]

I had a feeling that we were being watched. Best to be boring enough that there's nothing to see.

[ This is better, hidden away. He can slot up against him, fingers on his, like offering him some form of temptation. Fit together, it's hard to say if they always would have fit, or if they were contorting around each other like wrought iron, digging metal thorns into one another, trying to hold on. He looks up at him with that unblinking, blackened eye, a quirk of his lips, almost that shark's smile. ]

Don't you think?

Mm.

[He did remember. Vergilius's eyelids flutter in reaction to it, murmuring. His other hand reaches up, fingertip trailing over the edge of the man's sharp cheekbone. He never thought they would have anything like this, before. He knows how terrible they is, those thorns.]

Do you like it? Being in secret like this.

[More asked out of curiosity than anything.]

[ His head tipped slightly, inching toward his fingertip just so. He hadn't, either — expected something like this — but every time it feels more and more like it's... normal. getting used to the bite of their wrought little thorns piercing one another. It helped, too, that nobody had seen enough to question.

But his question is... hm.

His single eye closed, and his shoulder lifted. ]

I don't mind it. [ He says. It's a touch more honest than he usually is, he doesn't even couch it in a question, like he so often does. He should, he often has. But they'd decided they were tired of that, hadn't they? Playing that game of pretense and half-truths. The game had to evolve, they might... ] Besides, could you imagine if...

[ Someone found out? The questions, the pestering, the annoyances. The nosiness. Not to mention if Jinx...

Then again, at the same time, isn't there a part of him that... ]

Do you?

[Yes, he could imagine if people found out. That is the problem, here. He comes from a world where relationships aren't meant to last long or at all, especially among Fixers. It's discouraged. A weak point one can take advantage of.]

[Is Silco a weak point? Hard to say. This isn't Malkuth. Silco is a bad man. The world would drown in applause if anything happened to him.]

[Would he join that?]

It's easy.

[He admits. To keep it secret. To not have to worry. But...maybe its because he's remembered his time with Malkuth. It makes him miss it, somehow. But that reckless little urge, that naive little hope...he has to bury it, along everything else.]

[He smirks a little, thumb making a little circle over his cheek as he cups it.]

Besides...I think you'd implode on a date.

It is easy.

[ He doesn't push him away — he should — but he doesn't. This is just as dangerous as anything else. Would he be the one to destroy him, in the end? Just like...?

This is all so much easier if it is secret, and hidden. There are no awkward questions, other than the ones that awkwardly strike too close, and Silco has to lie and dismiss them. They're both the type that understands the danger of the type of work they're in; his urge to conceal it jealously, to prevent anyone from taking it away from him fuels him more than anything else. It's so easy to take it away. Everyone always tries, don't they? How long until someone convinced Vergilius, too?

Would he end up with scars as well?

His fingers stroke along his, before he opened his eye, to look right into his. ]

Implode? I already took you on a date, remember? [ To behead a man. The dance was already in motion, back and forth, it feels so long ago — it wasn't even a year ago. He'd thought then, about how powerful he was, looming over the man like he had, it had...

Hm. ]

Don't challenge me, or else I might have to prove you wrong.

[ For his pride.

Yeah. ]

That wasn't a date and you know it.

[He says, a little playfully admonishing. No, that was more of a demonstration than anything. Even then, the thorns had been set, the garden had been prepped to grow. They had found something in each other, then. A diamond in the rough they wanted to polish until they each revealed their cruel sheen.]

[He shakes his head. A thought comes to mind, and he says it before he gives himself a chance to rethink it.]

...I want to dance with you.

[A sincere sort of wish, so outside their usual trysts.]

[ It was supposed to be a date, but... Silco had turned that on its head, just like he does everything else. Had he ever done what was expected of him? He'd set that foundation, taken his free demonstration, but he'd kept that unblinking eye on him. Watched him.

He'd told him already, that it had been something desirable to see him. That'd he'd started thinking of him as —

Oh, wasn't that twisting it on its head? How he took something so innocuous and changed the rules.

But didn't Vergilius too? Twist things up, and do the thing he least expected.

His fingers still, and he watches him, head tipped up, his lips part slightly.

He hadn't expected it. ]

Do you? [ He paused, considering. It's such an innocent thing, compared to what else they've done. It's... not at all what he expected, it's softer. It doesn't have the sharp edges that usually came with their meetings, and yet...

Would he refuse? Aren't they intertwined now, he knows the steps, the limits. Why wouldn't they turn it on his head and change it now?

It's still hazy and undefined, this thing between them. Every time, this all gets a little bit clearer. ]

Then why don't you ask me?

[Silco pulls and tugs. He pulls and tugs. They want something out of the other that they are loathe to hand over so easily. As time as went on, they have inched closer, and closer, and you know...it might as well be a dance at this point.]

[They might as well already have each other in their arms. They just need an excuse to move. It might be an innocent, naive little idea. But he wants it. And hasn't he been so good in pursuing what he wants, as of late?]

You want that, huh.

[He takes the man by the chin, tipping him upward, letting himself drift forward - but not yet taking what he should be owed, merely hanging there. Letting his lowered eyelashes frame vivid red.]

Would you dance with me, Silco?

Edited 2025-04-08 18:34 (UTC)

[ Isn't this what he wanted the whole time he'd been across from him in public, verbal intimacy treated for this kind of intimacy, their bodies playing this little game, moving back and forth, finding a rhythm from the pull of their individual tides crashing against one another, finding a balance, a way for them to move just right between each other.

He tips his head upward, Silco meets his eyes -- always meets his eyes -- and his lip curls slightly, one of those barely there expressions -- and it doesn't quite vanish for once. His single eyebrow lifted, when he points out that he wants it, too.

Does he? Well, perhaps a part of him does, that long buried dead man that seems to want the things Silco knows he should not have. He knows better than to indulge that dead part of himself, but maybe he's more foolish these days, to let himself have these small things too. ]

Well, since you asked so nicely... How could I refuse?

[ As much a yes as anything. His thin fingers dance along his hand, head tipped just so. An invitation, should he take what's his due, in the end, he offers it for him to take, if he wants. (He wants it, he thinks, for him to take it.) ]

[How could he refuse, he says. It almost makes him want to laugh. Would Silco have said this so many months ago? After he killed a man for him? After he turned him into a vampire? After they started this song and dance? A playful dance of monstrous men turned into a real dance. Could they have predicted it so long ago?]

[He still remembers the first time they met. That vivid stare as he struggled. He had been drawn to him then, like a moth desperately wanting to burn itself on a flame from hell.]

[Vergilius smiles. And then bends down, capturing his lips in a kiss, as if that, itself, is a signature to seal the deal between them.]

[ He almost surprises himself with the answer, he wouldn't have considered it even months ago, when they'd still been dancing their dance back and forth pretending that those trysts in the dark, shared between them with every excuse imaginable, was something that wouldn't happen again...until it did. Again, and again, and again. Until they're finding excuses to simply exist next to each other — soft whispered conversations in private where anyone could find them, insults with double meanings, negotiations and secrets shared in one breath.

He leans down, their lips touch. His fingers curl around his, still holding onto that flask. It's all push, and pull. He tries to pull Vergilius down with him into the muck, but maybe he too is trying to tug him back upwards, and maybe they'll still be mired in it — he is a bad man, and Vergilius is a killer himself — but maybe they'll find air down here in the mire, a way to tread water somewhere in the middle.

So maybe it is a little deal, shared between them. Something he can give, that for once isn't meant to cut, or harm. He may be all sharp edges and daggers in the dark, but they are both wrought iron, jagged edges that find places to fit, where maybe it doesn't cut so deep toward one another. As if there are ways to make that fit. The edges not quite blunted, still cutting, but it isn't to kill. Just to flake the pieces off, in the same way Vergilius does to him. Cutting them into shape. Maybe they still don't understand, maybe they do, and maybe it's all just an excuse to let him in to do this again.

He breathes out, breathes against him, his lips taken — he doesn't pull away. His stray fingers reach up, to brush his bangs back, and his thumb runs a line against the scar on his face. To commit it all to memory, maybe. It feels wrong to take even this, and yet, he selfishly wants more of him. Every time, he wants more. ]

[There's no excuses. There's no reason to fall back on except reason itself. He finds himself back in Silco's orbit all the time, a gravitational pull that he can't escape any more. Silco has seen too much of him. And vice versa. The secrecy is nice, itching at their latent paranoia, but its moments like this that stand all the more brilliant because of how in tune they are.]

[How frightening. Silco is not the same man he met at the beginning of all this. And neither is he, for Silco. Irreparably changed. Molded to their desires.]

[Obsessed.]

[Silco's adroit fingers push his bangs back, carress his face. His own hand moves to the small of his slender little back, pulling him in.]

[He smiles against his lips, more warm than he means to.]

Do you even know how to dance?

[ He tugs him in, and Silco allows it, lets him pull him close, and he fits just so against him. Should it feel as good as it does? It doesn't feel like it's something permitted, but even so... it feels right, like all the pieces have been lined up. They fit so neatly, just so.

It's so dangerous, he is dangerous — but so is Silco. They hold the pieces to damn each other if they chose to, but they were not bargaining chips for domination, exchanged for a hold over one another. They were shared for a different purpose, that understanding they used as a shorthand for whatever else they were doing. A word that didn't quite mean what they said it meant.

He doesn't want to pull away these days, excuse it. He wants to keep it secret, like a dragon with its hoard, he covets it greedily, even though he has it all to himself. Has him. His lips curl, against his, a little shark's smile, as if he's about to impart a little secret. ]

Oh, I can't say I know any of those steps they have topside... [ He wasn't invited to those parties. He would never go if he was. ]

But we had our own in the fissures. I didn't make it a habit, of course...but I'm familiar.

[ But even he got drug out from time to time, and away from all that work he had already been throwing himself into. ]

[He can feel the weight in Silco's gaze. Like he is a precious jewel to have and to hold. To covet. To possess. There are many things he likes about it, and there are many things he doesn't like about it. He of course is a man, not a trophy.]

[He thinks Silco understands, that. He has learned many lessons since they first met. Vergilius grasps his lower lip with his own, nibbles and worries at it, before biting over the tip of that aquiline nose.]

That so? Maybe you should show me.

[He would be curious about that. Vergilius hums, making them rock back and forth a little with the hand at his back.]

[ Maybe he has learned, at least a small measure, but Silco still cuts like a serrated blade, digs in, and he's difficult to dislodge once he's in, and he wonders if he's dug in enough, if he could — would pull away now? Then again, is Vergilius digging in, too? He asks something like this of him.

He agreed? He wants him to be his, and it doesn't matter that they are in secret, hidden and sequestered away where nobody will see them. Why would it matter, that it is hidden away from the world, when the alternative is...

He bites and nibbles at his lip, at his nose. Not a monster, he says? He communicates like one, he bites and worries. Silco doesn't mind that, his lips twitch, his head tipped just so. His hand on his back is warm, and present. Large. He sways, and Silco tipped his body, not even a gap of sunlight between them. Interlocked, their free hands are already joined, his flask still there. He takes it, and tosses it behind them, an afterthought, before he takes his hand proper. Thin fingers interlock with his, this thumb rubs against the side of his, a scrape of nail against skin to accompany it. ]

Now, don't get too excited. Most of our dances held one purpose, you know. [ It's easy to assume what, they're so close, hips to hips, the only air their difference in heights. He nudges him back, to take a small step, but he follows, before he guides him to the right, keeping close. It's a tight motion, like limited space would keep them close. ]

Edited 2025-04-14 06:03 (UTC)

[The flask is tossed. Silco interweaves his fingers with him, and he doesn't know what it says about him when the scrape of that nail brings a tinge of color to his ears where other gestures don't. It feels like he is a nest for this paltry little bird to roost in, rest its bones against. Silco slots into him, and they proceed to dance.]

[Silco leads for now. This is no ballroom, but there's space enough. No one else is here. Their little private world, for two men, two monsters who gave seen each other bare far more than a handful of times at this point.]

And you think I would complain?

[About the purpose of said dance. He kisses at the edge of those hard little lips, now, sighing - and he eases Silco back to he can twirl him once, pull him right back where be belongs with scarred hand to his lower back. The friction as they meet again makes his eyelashes
flutter.]

If so, then you really don't know me well, Silco.

Hm —

[ He catches him by surprise, taking the lead for just a moment, before he's slotted right back into place, pressed up against each other. He leans forward, a soft chuff of amusement against his lips, pushing up against him, nudging him in just the right direction, keeping their hips, their thighs, their chests locked together, like they're working in tandem. ]

Oh no, I didn't think you would complain.

[ He pushes him forward, guides him. They aren't complicated motions. Just tight, and constrained.

Imagine being packed in a little fissure — or maybe an abandoned warehouse — music playing on a cheap record player, echoing through the small space despite the skips and starts. Bodies all trying to hold close to their partner, in their own little worlds. The smell of sweat soaked bodies, the smell of the mines, and the putrid lingering gray, all comingled in a small space. Maybe lights, if they're lucky. Moonshine flowing freely, and sure, other things. Mushrooms grew well in caves, and Zaunites knew what was good.

Silco keeps him close, too close. His thumb still scrapes, his other found its way back to his face. He feels like he can control him like this, push him this way and that. ]

Only managing your expectations, Vergilius. [ He turns them, Vergilius's back towards the interior of the room.

Just them. In private. Maybe Silco's a touch freer here, a little bit looser. He's found something to roost in, to dig his claws into. He doesn't want to let go. ]

On where things will go.

[The places they come from are very different. And yet they are the very same. In parts of the Backstreets, people still met, danced, had the night to themselves as the Sweepers moves in waves to collect the dirt, debris, dead bodies, and the unfortunate few left out in the open. To seek warmth, where outside was death.]

[There's no such thing here. They won't walk outside to immediate danger. But still, it almost feels paramount to be this close, to hold each other, as if letting go would mean their end.]

[The hand on his face makes him sigh. Even now, he thinks of that bright-eyed girl. He wonders what Malkuth would think of him, now.]

[Maybe she would congratulate how selfish he has become.]

Maybe I don't have a lot of expectations.

[He is lead inward. Vergilius shifts his face, kisses the palm of the hand clasping it.]

I just...go with the flow.

Oh of course, as you've often said.

[ His fingers curl, a scrape of nails against the side of his face. He doesn't dig, just an idle scrape, as if he's trying to claw him closer, closer. He likes that he lets him in, that he's chosen to be even just slightly selfish. Perhaps, perhaps even, he likes that he decides to be selfish now, with him.

He nudges him further in. They're still moving to some unheard beat. He rarely misses his record player, but now? Maybe he would have liked to have it. His lips curl, they're so close, he almost tugs him back to his lips, but...

He likes watching him take. Like he wants it. ]

Even when it's me leading it? The flow? Isn't that dangerous?

[ Or were they both bad men who could handle a little danger? ]

It is dangerous.

[An admission. But as Silco might suggest, they are not averse to danger. They dance with it like he is dancing with him, now. They've always been bed partners with things that will kill them in the end.]

You're dangerous.

[He can tell Silco wants to pull him in. His little black hole. That hungry gaze, on him, and him alone.]

[Would he be a black hole, too? His hand curls slightly on Silco's spine. He's torn out spins easily. It could be so easy.]

[His gaze fixes on Silco's lips.]

But I think I can keep my head above water.

[ They twitch, a spread into a sharp little thing.

He knows. Vergilius is dangerous too, particularly to him. He may be dangerous with this plots, a little spider's web of plans and schemes; but Vergilius... He curls his fingers against his spine. He's threatened it plenty, and he knows he is not one to make promises he can't keep.

But he doesn't. Would he, eventually? That dance with danger, the third specter in the room between them, Silco feels it looming. It doesn't frighten him, but he's never let things like that frighten him. In fact... ]

You think so? [ He asks, his tone just this side of coy, a touch teasing. He guides him deeper in, still those tight little steps, moving deeper in. ]

Maybe I should see how well you can tread water then, hm?

[ Deeper in, Vergilius will find his knees bump the back of the bed, like he's already been nudged and guided where he wants him to be. ]

[He has to ask himself: would he be in this position at all if it wasn't dangerous? If there wasn't that shadow hanging over them? If he wasn't bred to be a weapon in human form?]

[Of course not.]

[The bump against his legs make him blink, caught by surprise. Silco has led him to his spider's web. Here, fly. Lay down and enjoy the strings.]

[His hand travels to grab a handful (really, whatever Silco has) of his ass to give it a squeeze. His breath is hot against his scarred, thin lips.]

And where shall our captain take us today?

[ He says he's a man, and a part of Silco accepts that, understands that he's more than merely a monster — but he is still a dangerous man, and wasn't that what he wanted? Had always wanted? The danger was a part of it, whether it's taken out on his skin or not, it's the implied danger of it all. The curl of his finger against his spine, the way his hands grab him, strength and intent clear in his grip.

He shudders a little soft chuckle against his lips, pleasure coupled with desire all in one. His fingers drag along his arm, against his face, toward his shoulders, not quite digging in, feeling at hard muscle. He could snap his neck if he wanted, he could kill him in a thousand different ways, but maybe he'll allow for another little death, and another, and another. ]

Perhaps we'll test the waters, see how long you can hold your breath.

[ He breathes it against his lips, teeth and scarred lips promising to pull him under, if he lets it. How far they can drift, how long they can last, join him in the undertow, and see how far they can drift before they're forced to the surface.

He nudges him, pushes him to the bed with no strength, but the expectation that he'll follow anyway. ]

[There is no strength to it, but he acquiesces to it anyways. How funny, for someone as powerful as him. He doesn't lay down right away, instead wrapping his arms around the the slender excuses Silco has for legs as he nestles his chin against the line of his abdomen.]

You say that like a threat.

[There is absolutely glimmering, affectionate amusement in his hoarse voice at that one. He places a kiss against the line of his groin, knowing he's teasing. He may allow Silco to push him around, but...]

[Well, some blind loyal dog he is not.]

[ A soft 'hm', a tip of his head. He looks down at him, thin fingers drag along his shoulders. No, loyal dog he isn't, but he doesn't mind that. Would it be any more interesting than if he were to lay down and simply allow it to happen?

He lifted a finger, to brush at the fringe at his forehead, drawing down to catch against the scar on his face, his nail scraping along the length of it. He stares down at him with his own half-unblinking gaze, a pinprick of light that never seems to waver; a sharp little expression — a hint of teeth and a sharp, knowing little smile came to life. ]

Maybe it is... after all... [ He nudges to plant a knee between his legs, just at the edge of the bed. ]

I could lead you astray.

[ Weren't they both already? Astray. Somewhere in between?

He wants to push him down fully, but he waits, taking the opportunity to watch his lips against the line of him, a sharp little shuddering breath gives it away, that he wants him, just like this, to sink his teeth into, and hold him down. Keep him here, where he can keep their secret behind locked doors, keep him behind those doors. Satisfaction settled onto his face, feeling the raised skin of his scar, and scraping his nail against it. ]

[Should he be kept secret? Probably. Maybe. Yes. The City hangs over any connection he makes like a shroud. If he gets too close to anyone, then if they are lost to the whims of cruel fate...]

[He doesn't want to think of it now. Silco is here in his arms. It's easy to focus on everything physical, like an itch to be scratched. He knows its more than that. More threads tie them now instead of simple honest lust. But even in his denial, he can't help the way he sighs, almost longingly, at the nail that scrapes over his scar.]

And maybe you could lead me back, too.

[Since he already was astray. This feels more grounding. He feels more human, more vibrant, more alive. His constant guilt feels more like a shadow in the back of the room than something infecting every waking moment.]

[Another few kisses, meaningful, against the cloth that feels so heated already. He wonders if he can coax him with such simple gestures, make him gasp and keen and want for more. Want him more.]

[ Their secret, just for them. Silco protects it like he does all of his secrets, like a jealous little creature protecting its find. He fears them, trying to remind Vergilius as to who he is — as if he doesn't know? — as if he's forgotten, or Silco would see him slip through his fingers, if anyone intervened. His jealous fingers, they brush against the scar, as if he could hold him there in place.

He chases that sound he makes, the way he sighs with something that makes Silco want to lean down and swallow that from his mouth. Take it all and consume it. Something about the way he sounds, he wants to chase it and pull it out more, and more. It's just a sigh. It's a sigh that says so much, and he wants to understand it, too. Like it's a little mystery he doesn't quite get yet, or maybe there's a warped little version of it in him, that ties them together, that he doesn't examine too closely. ]

Such faith you put in me... [ He cajoles, a slight twist of teasing amusement. ] Maybe I will.

[ Isn't that just damning? Lead him back to where he came from? No, but he could lead him to that place somewhere in the middle, like weathering a storm. He doesn't want him to come back from it fully, to let that guilt and restraint occupy his thoughts. He wants him to remember what it is to be selfish from time to time, to take, even if it's just him he takes.

He already feels tight, and hot, maybe it had been the dancing, maybe it's his lips against him, and the flush on his face says enough that he already wants him, so much that he feels as if he would tremble from trying to control it. A part of him wants to wait, another part... it doesn't want to. He sinks down, to straddle him, to push him further onto the bed, to take his lips with his in a snap of a bite, a soft note of satisfaction escaped. His clever fingers drawing down, to find a path under his shirt towards more scars, more of his exposed skin, tugging his way down to pull it off. ]

[It's wrong to put faith into those spider-like hands. It's insane to even think about trusting them, too. This is the same man who stabbed him, transformed him into a monster against his will.]

[And yet, he's here. He must be obsessed, desperate. There's something about Silco he has to return to over and over again. Like a self-punishment that burns into his skin like another type of scar. But can it be punishment when it feels so good?]

[Silco descends like a vulture. He is at mercy for his talons, his teeth. He accepts them readily, allows his lip to be bitten. As Silco makes good work of his shirt, he does the same in return for the other man as he yanks off his top to reveal that sight he knows so well. The slender waist, the spine that he can carress and fondle over.]

[Vergilius sighs again into his mouth. The flush on Silco's face...he has to say something about it. So he mutters it into his ear as he kisses and nips at his jaw. His hands keep him solidly where he is, clamped down on his tights to tug him snug against his pelvis.]

You're cute when you blush.

[ Vergilius is a welcome sight, laid bare, though he hardly has the opportunity to look, but he's starting to map it all out, the lace of scars and muscle, his fingers find the ones he always gravitates toward, starts at his neck, where he'd bitten him, and draw down from there, always beginning where it all started — or at least where it changed. He could admit it, that something had shifted, tipped like gravity went askew.

Again, it happens, he says things that catch Silco off guard, the heat in his face spreading a little further — it's a half thing, on half his face, over his nose, but the dead, mottled skin over his scar doesn't change. It might look healed over with the makeup he wears, but they both knew what it really looked like by now — Vergilius had seen him fully bare in every way, after all — and his lips part, before he leans in to scrape sharp, chipped teeth against his neck. ]

Please, that's because I'm in your lap.

[ He punctuates it with a slight roll of his hips, what little he can move it, with his large hands holding him down like he's liable to squirm out of his grip from the words. He doesn't, he just drives to press his lips and teeth against that space of his neck, the juncture where his jaw and ear meet, to press in there, and suck a bruising mark against him.

Fingers draw down, scraping across his skin, the scars, a familiar little path he'd been aching to touch all night when he sat across from him — even when he'd caught his eyes across the room — he always seeks him out, as if it's only natural to find sight of him whenever he looks across the room. Even now, even trying to duck his face away, he can't stay for long, pulling back to look him in the eye — despite the obvious flush — and his lips curled, reaching up with a hand to brush his bangs back. ]

I very nearly tried to pull you into a — hah — business meeting while we were there.

[ So, so, tempting. He'd admit it, there's addiction here; obsession. He aims to cling and not let go of him. ]

[The flush moves. He finds himself enraptured by it, almost distracted before those dull teeth meet his neck to eke out a groan from his chest. A nice flush to remind him that Silco is very much human. And what a nice thing that is. This little paranoid creature of the dark was just a man. Same as him. Regardless of how monstrous they were to their core.]

[The mark is lovely, the pain more so - and it almost makes him miss the sharp sting of the man sucking his blood so long ago. His fingers dig in a little as he grunts and murmurs, before Silco shifts to grace him with his face once more. Again, red eyes are exposed, stared into, like they mean nothing.]

[His chest heaves, mouth curled up into a smirk.]

That so. [He shivers at the way the man maps him out. He must know him so well by now, all his scarred little roads. His on thumbs stroke dangerously close to his groin.] A business meeting. Ha. I would do that. Pull you aside into the bathroom. Talk business.

[He pushes past his grip to kiss him with a teasing nip, almost grinning, now.]

Maybe we can one day. And I can show you just how good I can make you shut up with my mouth.

[ Breathing against his mouth, Vergilius can feel the way his breath catches when his fingers drift toward his groin, pressed up against him like he is, nestled so perfectly right against him, slotting in so neatly. His thin thighs tighten around him, as if he could escape — where would he even go? — as if he wants to keep him right here.

He teases back, nips at his lips, his unblinking eye stares at his. There's a lurch somewhere, like something draws him closer, as if he could be closer. Like he melds against him, his fingers still find the little scars, like tributaries on a map, he follows them down, down, down. Fingers graze against scars, the remnants of wounds.

He still wants to learn about them, the ones that matter, but right now — he's distracted, too busy worrying his lips with his own, teeth and tongue snaking out to tease him. His fingers holding him in place, touching him, and that blossom of heat where his fingers just teased at the edge of him. ]

Oh? I thought you liked it when I made noise? [ He asked, his words formed against his lips. ] Maybe you should. Take me aside... steal me away from whatever nonsense they force us into next.

[ A better use of his time, perhaps. He says it with a press of his hips, rubbing against him through paings, enjoying the heat pressed against his admittedly thin and too-tight pants. ]

[Where would Silco even go? Would he ever lay with someone like this, bared? Not a chance. What he has here, with every ridge and curve of this slender body, belongs to him and him alone. This is a sight made for Vergilius. No one else.]

[He's never been a possessive man. His selfishness has always been buried deep, punished for existing. But perhaps here, with the taste of Silco on his tongue, he can acknowledge how pleased he is to have this all for himself.]

Mm. [Another mumble into the biting kiss, his hand palming over the hot swell in those pants, teasing.] Of course I do. But I'm sure you wouldn't want just anyone to walk in on your dick halfway down my throat.

[Crude, crude, crude. He will break out poetry, and then follow up with something as dirty as this. He unzips him now to relieve pressure, his own tent aching as he shifts it ever so slightly against the man on top of him.]

...I like - mm - when you touch me. [A little exhale, almost a laugh, to be stolen by Silco's mouth.] I think you've memorized everything by now.

[ It's crude, it's shameless, but he shivers a bit at the image he crafts with just a few words. The sight of him wrapped around him was scorched into his brain, but the idea of him with his knees on cold tile, unwilling to wait long enough to seek privacy. He could tug his hair back, look down at him, and —

His cock twitches, freed from his pants, and he pushes forward, seeking his scarred hands like they're drawn to him, lips and tongue hungry, like he's swallowing each and every crude little word and promise. They're all for him to take. It's all his, and he greedily sucks them down with little bites and pleased gasps breathed against his lips. ]

All the more reason to prove to you I know them... [ He promises, a thumb grazing one of them, just along his abdomen, right where he can fiddle with the edges of his pants, a little promise of something more.

And maybe, foolishly, he's more honest when he's bare before him. ] I don't think I could tire of tracing them. [ Thin, clever little fingers slip the button free, so he can find his way in. ] Or of touching you.

[ He pulls him free, offering something like relief that comes with the price of his fingers wrapped around him, his hips rolling in time with his hands. ]

Oh.

[It sounds like a sigh. But it comes out unbidded, a genuine little exhalation of surprise against those lips. He could never tire of him? It sounds almost like a fantasy. Words that aren't meant for simple wanderings of lust, perhaps, but for-]

[He interrupts himself. He has something here to focus on - his cock thickening so lovingly in the man's distinct bony grip. A little whine edges from his throat as he also reaches out to stroke alongside Silco, pumping from his groin.]

Say something - mm - like that and. Hah. Makes me think you have a crush on me.

[His hand on Silco's hip moves up to cup the back of his head, stealing a passionate kiss that he worries into the other's lips.]

[ A crush on him, as if they aren't currently holding each other in hand, as if he doesn't seek Vergilius out, or as if Vergilius doesn't seek him out in kind. As if he hadn't sought him out here, as if Silco hadn't just hours ago. Push and pull, back and forth, they're still dancing, even now.

Silco's brief experiment with honesty feels like a weight on his chest, but Vergilius kisses him like he should forget all of it. He worries his lips, and Silco kisses him like a knife cuts, as always. Sharp, unyielding, like he's trying to flay a part of him off for his own personal consumption. ]

You say that enough — [ He breathes against his lips, his hips shifting, so he can wrap thin fingers around the both of them, seeking heat and pleasure, and so his fingers can brush against his. ] — I'm starting to think that may be a guilty man speaking.

[ Maybe they were both guilty in their own ways. Silco has already said something he shouldn't — sharing that secret little part of him, the one that claws in, and never lets go... Is it truly so surprising that he would admit that he doesn't tire of him — that he wouldn't?

His free hand plays with skin, and he bites a line from his lips to his jaw, giving into temptation to nibble against his skin, to suck at it. He so desperately wants to leave a mark, but he can't. He shouldn't. Not after admitting that he wants to stay in secret. His breath hovers over skin, warm, shaking with half-restrained gasps and starts of breath. ]

Edited (I wake up and perceive a typo don't tag at 1 am 😔) 2025-05-12 11:19 (UTC)

I should laugh at that. Guilty.

[Can the pot recognize when the kettle calls it black in return? Maybe. Maybe not. They say such things, and yet they still guard their cores like frightened little animals. As if they can keep playing their same games. Over and over and over again, refusing to look directly into the sun.]

[Silco's fingertips brush against his. His mouth quirks upward, almost a smile. His own hand brushes through Silco's hair, almost petting it as the man attempts his work on his jaw. A pleasurable tickle, but...no, he's getting frustrated, a little.]

[His hand grasps the back of Silco's head, a little tug to gather attention. His growl rumbles as he leans forward, his own teeth encircling the man's earlobe to give it a bip.]

Don't be a coward. Claim me.

[ What would they have, if they gave up the game? It would be something tangible. Something to...

No, it must remain intangible.

He's holding back, a little, taking his time. Like a little spider that sets the web, and lets the fly land in it, all that patient waiting manifests as hunger, settling beneath his skin. He's controlled it this long, nestled up against him, but that want threatens to spill forth, like a monster threatening to split his skin and crawl out, leaving bones and skin behind to some other Thing that wants nothing more than to consume him.

He calls him a coward, and Silco's fingers scrape against his skin again, a little sharper, a little meaner.

His laugh, though, is of course that, but there's... something else there. Pleased. Even though he tugs at his hair and bites at his ear. It sends another little shiver down his spine. ]

Don't complain later, then.

[ His nose brushes the space behind his jaw, a breath that's half a laugh, and half something more heated, he presses his lips there, his teeth, still those barely-there marks against his jaw, before there's a sharp inhale, the flood of a memory. Of blood in his mouth, and how good it had tasted then.

It's sharp, it's rough, it's a bite that comes with pressure, as if he were trying to suck his blood out from him, though he doesn't break skin. He almost seems to relax in his lap, when he stops holding back, as if the spider has finally pinned the fly down against the web. ]

haha. would you be pissed if I said that I had a guess that you might be taking a forced trip too? don't get too mad (if you even get this) since you know the rules. non-interference.

this message might go nowhere. but I feel obliged just in case.

one: I'll be keeping an eye on her. can't promise much there since I'm not the comforting type and you're the one that went and left, so just prepare yourself for that. but she won't die. gods of death are pretty good at playing favorites when we feel like it.

two: if you're gone for good scratch point number one. she's mine now in that case. you two can have a cute little reunion at my campfire so you know. better come back huh?

three: you know those fragrant orange flowers I like to keep around? pay attention for that scent. maybe get others to pay attention too. it's more potent and meaningful than you'd think. especially if my guess is right.

that's all I've got to say for you. you'll come back stronger or I'll lay your soul to rest.

but I'll wish you good luck. just this once.

SYNFLUX INBOX

@nice toy

@BAD DADDY

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YOU ASKED BUDDY

https://youtu.be/2WZLJpMOxS4?si=_sgLGaE4gKf7SRDH

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cw: colonialism

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fuck it i'll do it anyways

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1/2

2/2 he just needed a second to process his for once justified emotions (and then he's stupid)

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october, back at base after kaiju goes down

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me screaming at my mispellings DON'T TAG AT LATE NIGHT KIDS

LMASF I DO NOTSEE IT 😌

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Cw....... Elusion to eye things

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