[ 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 β [ Punctuated with a press of his index finger. ] β 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 β 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. ]
[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.]
[ 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.
[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 β as always, like there are two different men here. He says he's not broken, but... ]
[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.]
[ 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 β 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? ]
[ He reaches out now β again, for his shoulder, the anger has bled away and there's this guilty, sad thing at his core β 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?
He knows the truth. His fingers flex against his shoulder β 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 β 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 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 β 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 β it was always the two of them, everyone else would always leave β 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 β or the enforcer she was with had β or they'd lured her into a trap β 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. ]
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.]
[ 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 β perhaps he would fail? β 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 β [ He wants to look away now. He does, when not held there. Silco so rarely looks away from him. ] β 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.
[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ 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?
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[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?
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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 β [ Punctuated with a press of his index finger. ] β 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. ]
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[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?
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[ 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 β 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. ]
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[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?
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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. ]
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[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?
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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 β as always, like there are two different men here. He says he's not broken, but... ]
Don't you regret that?
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[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...
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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? ]
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[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.
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[ He reaches out now β again, for his shoulder, the anger has bled away and there's this guilty, sad thing at his core β 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?
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[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.
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He knows the truth. His fingers flex against his shoulder β 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 β 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?
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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[ 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 β 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.
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[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?
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[ 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 β it was always the two of them, everyone else would always leave β 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 β or the enforcer she was with had β or they'd lured her into a trap β 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. ]
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[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?
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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 β [ He wants to look away now. He does, when not held there. Silco so rarely looks away from him. ] β 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.
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[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."
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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? ]
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