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.]
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.]
[ 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.
[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.
[ 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.
[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? ]
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?
[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. ]
He did not ask for sympathy, or relief from his guilt β 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 β everyone β 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.]
[ 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 β 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 β 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 β 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. ]
[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 β 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 β or could it β 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?
[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 β some of the more successful Pit Fighters seem to do well enough, well known and regarded β 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 β he doesn't have ability to β 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.
[ It doesn't have to be simple β 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 β 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 β despite the occasional flare of anger β 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 β 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 β well, as best that they can with the proximity β 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 β 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?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[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?
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[ 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?
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[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?
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[ 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.
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[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.
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[ 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.
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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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.
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[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.
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He did not ask for sympathy, or relief from his guilt β 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 β everyone β 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.
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[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.
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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 β 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 β 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. ]
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[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.
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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 β or could it β 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?
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[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?
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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 β he doesn't have ability to β 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? ]
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[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.
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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 β 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?
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[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.
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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 β his interest. That cat's grin doesn't fade. ]
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[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?
normal...........................
so Normal
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π
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