KAIJU FIGHT #5

[synfluxmods]

KAIJU FIGHT #5

CONTENT WARNINGS: cult-like symbols and implications, brainwashing.

▶ 001. LORD OF THE FOREST.

Throughout the days leading up until October 15th, the captives will be forced down to the dungeons for their “punishments” to be doled out. All of the punishments seem to be completed methodically, almost as if the followers of the Lord of the Forest had centuries of experience. While no explanation is given, it becomes clear that the sacrificial ritual has begun. While the Outsiders may not be privy to what this entails, there is one rule that will be have made clear to them: once the ritual begins, it can no longer be stopped. However, there is still a sliver of hope. On the morning of the 15th, a small message will have been pushed out by LILITH. While they haven't completely reestablished their connection to the network, they are able to get something out.

█ █ █ MONSTER DEBRIEF SHEET
NAME:
HEIGHT: Ư̴͚͈̓͊̅͐́̇͛̂͌̏͠Ņ̷̧͕̣̦͉̟̣̽̽̌̓̈́͒̈́́̔̊̚͜͝K̷̗͖̜̟̮̬̜̳̍̈́̽͝Ǹ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃
WEIGHT: Ư̴͚͈̓͊̅͐́̇͛̂͌̏͠Ņ̷̧͕̣̦͉̟̣̽̽̌̓̈́͒̈́́̔̊̚͜͝K̷̗͖̜̟̮̬̜̳̍̈́̽͝Ǹ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃
CLASS: Ư̴͚͈̓͊̅͐́̇͛̂͌̏͠Ņ̷̧͕̣̦͉̟̣̽̽̌̓̈́͒̈́́̔̊̚͜͝K̷̗͖̜̟̮̬̜̳̍̈́̽͝Ǹ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃
LOCATION: BRAȘOV, TRANSYLVANIA.
ABILITIES: Ư̴͚͈̓͊̅͐́̇͛̂͌̏͠Ņ̷̧͕̣̦͉̟̣̽̽̌̓̈́͒̈́́̔̊̚͜͝K̷̗͖̜̟̮̬̜̳̍̈́̽͝Ǹ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃
WEAKNESSES: SUNLIGHT, HOLǸ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃Y REǸ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̹̆̃S, GK̷̗͖̜̟̮̬̜̳̍̈́̽͝Ǹ̵̠̳̯͕̠̻̖͔̹̖͑ͅỎ̶̖̲́̒͒͒͜W̵͈͍̻̞̮̻̏̍͠N̷̥͚̳̳͙̟͓̆̃
EXTRA NOTES:

It is an incredibly sparse message. It seems to be working with any information the ocular implants were able to detect in that second, and the information gets fed back in the form of a distorted debrief sheet. However, it does act as a sign that LILITH is still actively working on gaining access to their communication lines once more, and are tirelessly working to send help. With this sudden jolt of a message, they will feel an extremely heavy disturbance composed entirely of rift energy—it appears that whatever kaiju is dwelling here is able to effectively work with the rift in order to negate abilities. But perhaps the clues all strung together have already painted a similar picture as to what is to come, and to what to continue to expect.

Now that the sacrifices have all but been made, it is time for the Lord of the Forest to be summoned.

All captives who have been forcefully dragged, or psychologically drawn to the dungeons, will find themselves face-to-face with the Lord of the Forest, also known by their title of PRICOLICI. The creature is a bit difficult to make out due to its ability to shape-shift: at times mimicking a human wearing some sort mask in the form of a wolf’s skull, and at others, taking on a form of a monstrous wolf-like creature that awaits all Outsiders— those presently within the dungeon, and those that exist outside of it, ready to be lured in.

Or that should be the case, but The Lord of the Forest appears to be a kaiju unlike all others. While it is summoned for a brief period in which the Outsiders bear witness to its true form, it seems to disperse back into the rift soon afterwards, much like savoring each of its sacrifices in a temporary state of hibernation.

(Note: Details of the specific events that happened leading up until this point can be accessed on the kidnapped log. Please be advised that there are heavy trigger warnings for these topics.)

▶ 002. FIND THE CAPTIVES.

Due to their brief communication and joint efforts following the network post, it becomes clear that all signs point to Bran Castle as the place where the captives are being held. This becomes ever more apparent as the fog gradually begins to lift, and the outline of the castle can finally be seen from the distance of the forest’s perimeter.

If there were still any doubts surrounding Bran Castle as a place of interest, many of the villagers will instantly form large groups in order to stop Outsiders from heading towards the castle. They will spare no effort to achieve this. What initially starts off as peaceful dissuasion and psychological tactics, such as using the children to cling to the Outsiders leg and crocodile tears… quickly escalates to outright fighting with pitchforks and other makeshift weapons from the farm. Additionally, Outsiders who have purchased the poison dagger from LILITH will find that the “safety” on it is released, and they can be utilized on the locals with no need for additional clearance. It looks like the network wasn't the only thing affected by the spotty connection.

In this skirmish, the Outsiders trying to make their way to the castle will find that a handful of these villagers aren’t your run-of-the-mill farmers. They’re stronger, faster, and the Outsiders will discover that they have incredibly sharp teeth. They are vampires! Or, an entity that seems close enough to the ones of legends. They will not only be attempting to fight Outsiders off, but will also resort to biting them. If an Outsider is bitten, their bodies will feel almost feverish, as if an incredibly slow-acting poison has entered their bloodstream. But, being bitten by a villager does not guarantee one to be turned. While it is possible, it is a much lower chance.

Once Outsiders do make it to the castle, they will find that there will be several more attendants from the castle waiting for them at the gates, all prepared to fight tooth and nail to prevent their entry. It’s clear the objective becomes to break past them and find the dungeons below the castle!

▶ 003. THE DUNGEON OF CASTLE BRAN.

Following the pathways of the castle to the dungeons below will not be easy. All the attendants present seem to have been waiting for them behind every nook and cranny of the castle. Outsiders will be met with their fervent attempts to stop them. It is a matter of life or death for the attendants and like the villagers, they seem to have no issue with throwing their own necks out in order to preserve the sanctity of their ritual.

Outsiders will also find various areas in which wolfsbane will be in bloom. Unlike typical wolfsbane these seem particular potent and will make the air taste bitter, and cause tingles, nausea, and hypotension if exposed to for too long. It appears even the attendants avoid them to a degree.

For those who make it to the dungeons, they will find that it is a lot bigger than it appears on the surface. A lot of its structure seems to lead deep underground, suggesting that it may even extend further out from the perimeter of the castle itself. There is a certain smell to the place that cannot be masked, years of sacrifices evident in every inch of its walls. There are over hundreds of cells, some still holding skeletal remains, alongside other ancient looking items: an old book, a worn out doll, a bloodied servant’s apron—they all appear to be pieces from a past that was long forgotten.

The Outsiders will not get to explore easily, however. As soon as they make their way past the threshold where the cells are all lined out, they will feel a chill up their spine. It's almost as if eyes are watching them in the dark, and they are. If they look up, they will realize there are hundreds of bats with glistening teeth that are all lining the ceiling, all lying in wait. They are minions of the Lord of the Forest, and their supersonic screams can stun and cause momentary deafness.

To make matters worse, it is not just their sharp teeth that hurt on impact, but they have a keen thirst for blood similar to the villagers. Being bitten by one will cause the Outsider to potentially begin to lose control of themselves and will have an insatiable thirst for blood, even at the expense of their fellow teammates. Additionally, those who are bitten will find themselves moderately more susceptible to psychic brain washing, and may cause them to momentarily join the enemies side.

▶ 004. THE FINAL RESCUE.

While the battle has already started within the village and the castle, suddenly the familiar ping of their oculars will alert them to the following message from Yamakawa—

"Angels of LILITH, we have connection. Rescue your team mates no matter the cost!"

With the connection reestablished, the main objective of the mission becomes one thing: RESCUE. For Outsiders who may have still been left at the village, or engaged within their own horrors, they are all advised to head to the dungeons as soon as possible. The coordinates for the deepest cells are sent alongside directions, with a constant warning to avoid direct contact with the kaiju there. The kaiju has long been absorbing rift energy and LILITH strongly advises against any attempts to engage with it until more information is known.

After half an hour, LILITH gives formal clearance to kill anyone interfering with the mission. Villagers, cult members, anyone. This includes Outsiders who may have temporarily been brainwashed, with the caveat of bringing back their bodies as they may be able to save them.

As they get further into the dungeons, they will find themselves susceptible to the side effects of rift poisoning. It is far more potent with each step, and will take laser focus to make one's way all the way to the last holding cells. There they will find the several of the castle’s most devout followers desperately calling out for The Lord of the Forest, as if summoning its presence.

…


…

…

… and The Lord of the Forest answers the cries of its followers. The initial part of this battle is difficult as the kaiju's abilities paired with the abnormalities of the rift result in weakening the powers of all living organisms around him, including the powers of the Outsiders. However, due to the phases of the moon, its abilities to nerf powers seem to have diminished slightly - they are able to use their abilities at a lower output, or at times they will find their abilities can cut in and out. After five to ten minutes of the Outsiders actually engaging the creature, they will find LILITH has effectively sealed the rift below the dungeons. It is far from perfectly done, but will allow the Outsiders the window of opportunity to use their all in their battle with the Lord of the Forest before backup arrives.

█ █ █ MONSTER DEBRIEF SHEET
NAME: PRICOLICI
HEIGHT: VARIES
WEIGHT: VARIES
CLASS: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
LOCATION: BRAȘOV, TRANSYLVANIA
ABILITIES: SHAPESHIFTING, IMMORTALITY, NIGHT VISION, SUPER STRENGTH
WEAKNESSES: SUNLIGHT, HOLY RELICS, GARLIC, WOLFSBANE
EXTRA NOTES: This kaiju has a malicious intent to all humans besides those who praise it. It's said it will bless all of its followers abundantly on this Earth and grant them immortal life.

The battle against the PRICOLICI will not be made easy, especially as its weaknesses are not as straightforward to tap in as most elements. However, LILITH will provide utmost support for the Outsiders who want to try their hand at defeating it. While it was once believed to be immortal, perhaps due to the disconnection of the rift and the moon, it does seem weaker the longer the Outsiders engage with it. There are also pockets in which wolfsbane bloom in secret in the dungeon, and the PRICOLICI will evade these specific areas, as well as any places containing holy relics.

▶ 005. AFTERMATH.

The remaining villagers do their utmost in attempting to ground the LILITH medical cruiser, using cannons and other primitive weapons against it. Fortunately, they do not succeed. With the LILITH medical crew all present, they begin their work promptly. Outsiders can not only use the medical cruiser as a temporary base and resting point, but those with severe injuries are ushered in for emergency surgeries and other necessary procedures. Those who can heal are encouraged to take care of the ones with less major injuries in order to lighten the load on LILITH’s medical robots... and Dr. Spim, of course.

When the final battle finally winds down, several more mission objectives crop up. While no formal decision is pushed on the Outsiders this time, they are given several choices.

Although LILITH has permitted Outsiders to take their own stance in whether they want to kill those involved in the ritual, including the villagers, they do state the final request to spare the children, which they plan to bring back to Neo Tokyo. Those who do not wish to engage in the taking of lives will be encouraged to continue assisting and escorting any injured Outsiders. Finally, all Outsiders are tasked to take with them any goods that LILITH could benefit from, including any sources of food.

Once this has all been completed, they will all be encouraged to leave Transylvania behind.

Back at base, they are presently working on the cure for those who were bitten and turned. While the brainwashing element has been resolved through persuasion tech, it wasn't possible for them to fully reverse the other side effects. LILITH staff are requesting those affected to remain indoors until they figure out what they need in order to completely rid them of this ailment.

(Note: The above mission objectives in this section are all optional! Please remember that you only need to engage in the plots and ideas you are comfortable with. If you would prefer your character to leave early to take the others back to recover at base, that is completely fine. We want this to be flexible and for people to play with what inspires them. You are also free to come up with other ways your character can help during this time, as long as it does not break any game rules.)

▶ 006. AFTERWORD.

Welcome to fifth kaiju log!

Thanks to the Outsiders' efforts, they were able to engage with the kaiju in this fight. Due to them piecing the clues of the skulls helping to destroy the fog, they were able to gain access to Bran Castle. As they have also kept their suspicions of the villagers, some even including to sacrifice them, they were able to unearth them being associated with the cult, and able to uncover their involvement. Outsiders were also able to add wolfsbane as a weakness to the kaiju due to the messages exchanged between the kidnapped and non-kidnapped - and so this detail was also added into the log. We appreciate everyone’s engagement in this and hope you have fun with this outcome!

Feel free to NPC your characters' fights with the minions. The main fight with the largest one will be determined via a HP-based system (See below). Feel free to ask any other questions below! Additionally, we did clarify some questions in regards to vampires/general weaknesses here, as well!

For the vampire prompts, feel free to work with the setting in how you want your character to experience being turned, and potentially turning others. It was made vague to allow flexibility, so if you'd like to have your character just feed off of people without turning them, that works. If they want to turn all their friends, that is also 100% okay. Those who have been turned are welcome to play with that as they see fit. As mentioned, LILITH will be actively working on the cure, and this will be something revisited in the TDM, or on our quest board, so be on the lookout for that!

All tags on this log are worth 2 points and will count towards October AC.

EVENT BREAKDOWN/RECAP (CLICK TO EXPAND)

1. LORD OF THE FOREST: On the days leading up to the 15th, kidnapped characters are brought to the dungeons to receive their punishments. The punishments are administered in a way that suggests that the followers have many years of experience, and that they are all part of a sacrificial ritual to summon the Lord of the Forest; once the ritual begins, it can't be stopped. On the morning of the 15th, LILITH is able to send out a distorted monster debrief sheet that the captives will be able to briefly see before experiencing a heavy disturbance of rift energy. Captives in the dungeons will also be able to see the Lord of the Forest, but it will disperse back into the rift after being summoned.

2. FIND THE CAPTIVES: The Outsiders figure out that the captives are held in Bran Castle; the fog gradually lifts and the outline of the castle will be visible. The villagers will do everything they can to prevent the Outsiders from reaching the castle, from using the children to persuade them to stay to more violent means. Outsiders who have a poison dagger from LILITH are able to use it on the villagers without prior clearance due to the spotty connection. Vampires are among the villagers attacking the Outsiders; if they are bitten, their bodies will feel feverish. Once Outsiders reach the castle gates, they will have to break through the castle attendants to reach the dungeons.

3. THE DUNGEON OF CASTLE BRAN: Outsiders must fight through more attendants inside the castle as they make their way down to the dungeons. The layout of the dungeons is much bigger than it may seem on the surface—with over hundreds of cells, some of which still contain the remains and personal effects of previous villagers who have been sacrificed. Bats, minions of the Lord of the Forest, will attack the Outsiders and those who are bitten may begin to lose control of themselves with a thirst for blood. Bitten Outsiders may attack their teammates as a result, and may also be more susceptible to psychic brainwashing.

4. THE FINAL RESCUE: LILITH confirms the main mission objective of rescuing all the captives and gives formal clearance to kill anyone interfering with the mission, which includes any Outsiders who may have been temporarily brainwashed. The bodies of any fallen Outsiders must be brought back as LILITH may be able to restore them. Going deeper into the dungeons will cause side effects of rift poisoning to manifest. The Lord of the Forest appears to engage the Outsiders; its ability to weaken abilities is diminished slightly due to the phases of the moon. Five to ten minutes into the battle, LILITH seals off the rift below the dungeons, allowing Outsiders an opportunity to go all in on attacking the Lord of the Forest.

5. AFTERMATH: LILITH's medical crew arrives to begin treating injured Outsiders. Those who are able to heal or have medical experience are encouraged to treat Outsiders with minor injuries to lighten the load on LILITH's medical staff. Once the battle winds down, Outsiders are given several options on what to do next: kill the followers and the villagers, but sparing the children (who will be brought to Neo Tokyo); continue assisting and escorting any injured Outsiders to safety; taking any goods from the village that will benefit LILITH, including food sources. Once completed, Outsiders will leave Transylvania to embark on the journey back to Neo Tokyo.

code

Comments

[zauneyete]

No — no. This is a serious matter. Are you listening to me?

[ Fingers at the back of his neck are just as unusual as any other touch, too abnormally close. Maybe a refracted image of something else, an intimacy this doesn't reflect — a dangerous press of fingertips at the back of his neck, the threat ever present, a promise that with Vergilius's strength, he could do exactly as he promised. Easily, in fact. Or he could, but...

In dim light, Silco's lips flickered with a ghost of a smile. As always, it seemed to twitch to life and then vanish as quick as you could realize it was happening, like his unpleasantness pulled it back under his natural armor—a spark of authenticity that gets consumed by reality. Both were equally real, but one was impulsive, the other a careful control that he even now still held tight.

Some kind of poison ran in his veins and thrummed, with each thud of his heart, it felt like that old, familiar hunger. He was never one to over-indulge, or even eat all that much (just look at him) but as a vampire, he'd felt a rush of excitement every time he'd hunted through Ryad's crowded playground for those with the odd hungers.

He'd missed that feeling. Not just the hunger, but the power. Of feeling like a predator amongst the prey, blending in until the very last moment. Power was a heady thing, and Silco couldn't imagine a world where it was turned down by anyone, let alone someone like Vergilius, whose power was great enough, albeit still somewhat human. Attainable. ]

I'm showing you what piece you are ignoring. What the foolish and misled do not understand. I know, because I've lived this life [ unlife. ] before.

[ This time he does smile, a sharp grin that has knives. How had he concealed it? But Silco's odd cadence and way of speaking surely masks those too-obvious fangs now.

Has it been three seconds? He should stop dallying, probably. ]

Don't fret — it's well worth the pain.

[ He didn't hesitate now, with his course of action decided. He leaned down closer, his free hand grabbed and tipped his head, thin fingers gripping his hair. Breath tickled on his neck — they were so close right now, far closer than even that night when their hands had tried to peel away layers of armor — a scrape of sharp teeth to follow warm breath, and then —

Twin sharp pricks of pain followed, when Silco sank his fangs into his neck. His fingers dug against skin, as if he were trying to force him to stay down. ]

[immortalpoet]

[Silco has gone mad.]

[No, maybe Silco has always been mad. No, wait, he knew that. He's mad, too. Two men on a bed in a labyrinth, talking about the end of the world. That's mad.]

[Vergilius finds himself flummoxed, off-teeter - his dogged pursuit of Malkuth so far away it feels like a distant memory.]

You're making no sense-

[He tries to gruffly protest, even as his fingers dig in more. And then, a clue, a glaring one at that - a mouth of fangs. Like those of the vampires. Vergilius's red eyes are wide. He should move. He should fight. Silco bends down, and something almost short-circuits as his nose brushes over the curve of his jaw, hand pressed over his scalp.]

[Move. Move. MOVE. But as some senses leech back in, its already too late. Those precious seconds, now lost as those fangs find their mark.]

Ah....a-ah....

[Comes the gasp, leaning into a groan. Silco starts to drink, and something feels cold and nasty and exhilarating all at once all over his body. It's enough to make a man puke. Vergilius doesn't. He just shudders, palpably, underneath the man's lithe body.]

[But if Silco thought he would lay there pretty, think again. For the kneejerk reflex for violence is still there, and even in such a position, he's trying to jerk his head away. He won't be satisfied with that alone, though.]

[Vergilius his mouth and bites down, hard, on Silco's own neck as well.]

[He absolutely wants to draw blood, here. Tit for tat.]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco has no space to talk, when he latches onto his neck — he'd so rarely left living victims, but he wonders if maybe he should leave Vergilius alive? — the rush of blood is a familiar, warm. He had not bothered drinking from the villagers, or the other vampires — and perhaps he has a mind to avoid biting other Outsiders for the moment — but...

Well, perhaps he is a little (a lot) mad.

He had always enjoyed it, eating like this, but this was almost better? Was it the adrenaline, or the way Vergilius still struggled? The rush of blood in his mouth drew a sigh of — familiar satisfaction, breathed against his skin. Was it because he knew, despite his words, that he was a monster just like him? He'd seen him decapitate a pleading man like it was nothing, he'd watched him slice a path through the attacking Vampires. Here, though, he struggled, like he was holding back, or maybe —

Was it a gasp? Or was it a groan? His fingers tugged at his hair harder, dull fingernails tried to claw at his chest. He didn't stop him from fighting his grasp, either, he only aimed to make it hurt. He wanted it to hurt him, if he's going to fight this. Something in between punishing and satisfying his own need for violence, to hurt the things that railed against him.

Vergilius's teeth are dull, and he bites hard. Silco hissed against his neck, somewhere in there it resolved into a throaty tone, somewhere between those 'hms' he so favors and a groan. He fights to tug him down, his thin fingers tightened into his hair, pulling but even the slightest give from him tears the thin skin around his neck just enough to make it bleed. He can smell his own blood, and his fingers relaxed slightly — only slightly. The blood was making it hard to think, of course, and in-between pulls a half-huff of something satisfied escaped his throat. He'd promised him it would be worth the pain, after all, but that didn't mean it was just Vergilius's, did it? ]

[immortalpoet]

[Why wouldn't he struggle? He's asked himself that time and time again, even in the darkest depths of his life when he turned his back on his own flow. Why would he? Why wouldn't he...? Ah, the great questions, here. He struggles, perhaps, because he has to. Because even with his own consequential understanding of himself as a monster, there's still something worth fighting for.]

[And regardless of his feelings about Silco, their similar circumstances, he will struggle. He pulls off with blood swimming in his mouth, and swallows. Somehow, in the midst of it, he feels like he needs more. The man grapples him, tugs into his hair, tries to still him, and he can't, he won't.]

[His own hands want to be busy. Even as Silco's sighs (are they sighs?) pool in his ears, he's using one hand to try to return the favor and thread into his hair, yank him as to pull him off. The other grasps around the man's thin hip.]

[He squeezes. He has enough strength to crack it. Maybe he will here, with a hissed gasp and a breath between red-stained lips. And of course. Why not, says something inside, something new and born but always there? There must be poison here, seeping into his bones. It feels so sweet and hot and red.]

[Take another bite.]

[And he does, into his shoulder, with a growl that rumbles into his flesh.]

[zauneyete]

[ Sure, he hadn't expected that Vergilius wouldn't fight — his strength is enough that he probably could have rolled him over, or bucked him off. He'd half expected it, latching on with his teeth enough that there weren't just a pair of neat twin pinpricks, a matching indentation of the rest of his teeth gripping hard enough that he'd leave deep toothmarks and bruising. It doesn't stop him from drinking, since it had been so long (an hour) since he'd drank, and the flood of blood was hard to simply rip away from, even when he tried to wrench himself away and off, his hands winding to grip into his hair, and tug him away.

He fought him with more strength than he normally had — latched on by his mouth on a bloody, bruising wound — a hand on his hip with crushing force that he imagined might have cracked his hip, a sharp rip of pain that made him hiss against his neck — a sound of another growl in the back of his throat — like a creature with a catch that's being threatened, undaunted by the threat.

He thought that Vergilius would keep trying to pull back, so he bit harder on his neck, lest he try to pull away again, exerting the limited power and control he has over the situation — over the man he's currently straddled over — fighting to get him to understand.

But maybe he doesn't have to, when instead of pulling back, he dips in, and Silco wondered if he's already so gone that he's passing out —

But no, he bites hard on him in kind, and both of his eyes go wide, his breath shudders slightly against his neck, half out of surprise. He'd wanted to see if he could pull a monster out of him, hadn't he? He'd wanted to see the measure of this man, beyond just his power and violence, if he was the kind of person who would grasp for what he wanted and take it just as much as Silco did. He'd wondered, when he fought, when he'd been surprised or perhaps even concerned, but the moment he bit him again, he knew that there was something to respect in the man. Only cowards ran away. True strength came from fighting back, tit for tat, as much as he gave.

His whole side shuddered from the pain of his hand on his hip, but he forced himself to stay still and not move, other than the shaky breaths, exhaled over a wound that he hadn't bothered to relax over. His fingers wound a little further into his hair — still tugging — but blunt nails scraped against his scalp occasionally. Maybe inadvertent, maybe in silent encouragement for what could only be another monster, right? ]

[immortalpoet]

[His brain feels like its cotton candy, pulled to extremes and spun around a cone. He barely knows where to start and where to stop thinking. Instinct now, his id, is the one at the forefront now. And its the thing that he beats himself to guilt over.]

[No matter what he does, no matter what threads of light he follows, no matter how many children he tried (and failed) to save - this is what he is, isn't he? It's what Silco saw in him. And so, he bares it just like his teeth, which crackle with a sudden stab of pain.]

[Vergilius groans from it. The taste of blood sinks down his throat again. Silco stills against him, which seems to give him permission. Permission, really? He was so rabid before. What changed now?]

[Was Silco deriving pleasure from this, somehow? Was he deriving pleasure from this, somehow?]

[He doesn't know what should give the answer to that. His mind? His heart? His body? His....whatever is now sitting there in his blood, a cuckoo invading a nest? His body isn't going to stop now until he receives a bit of delayed clarity. One leg latches over the other's to keep him from moving, hip locked to hip with his hand threatening more of a squeeze. He pulls away to gasp a breath, filling his lungs before he returns to his work. Its not as drastic and feral as before, but he's finding that open wound to latch his teeth into it once again, tongue licking up the ravaged area as his teeth sharpen and lenghen, sinking further inward.]

[As if he means to eat the man whole.]

[zauneyete]

[ There's already a large, bruising welt on his neck, places where the skin tore, and abrasions that just barely don't go all the way through. Another vampire's blood doesn't taste quite as good as a human's but the scent of it to the nascent, growing poison in Vergilius's veins is likely just as tempting as anything else, his blunt teeth seem to have no difficulty breaking through skin where they need to. The hunger is already there, but how could anyone resist the temptation?

Silco would have called it a fool's errand, if he'd been able to articulate the struggle with instinct and id, in the same way he always had. He'd never made it a secret, or something to hide, that this truest version of him is what he'd wanted to see from the beginning. He'd never understood why anyone would even want to hide like that, pretend that there wasn't a beast slithering under the skin and threatening to lash out.

Is he enjoying this? Maybe even pleased that he hadn't fought him off, maybe a little more pleased when the heavy weight of his leg pressed against his, pinning him down in a similar way that he'd just done. Thin, bony fingers drift from pushing against his collarbone to pressing against the bruising skin by his mouth, as if he wants to remind him that he is right here — lest he becomes used to the latch of fangs and the slow drain of his blood.

His skin prickled with gooseflesh, raw under his teeth and tongue, and then there was that too familiar twin-prick of fangs against flesh. His lips parted against the wound he'd very nearly ripped from his flesh, and he exhaled a warm, jerky breath against the punctured, seeping wound. Grazing his thumb against abraised skin — uncharacteristically — he drug his lips against the pooling blood, before he dug his thumb into the flesh, as if trying to exsanguinate the rest of the blood from the wound so he could feast on what was left.

[immortalpoet]

[The lips are enough to drive him into madness. Its the thumb that pulls him from the brink.]

[Finally, sense has caught up along with the rush of pain. The blood now no longer tastes so sweet, and he's suddenly nakedly conscious of everything. Silco's body against him. The wound on his neck. His own bites likely throbbing for the man who attacked him. What has he done? His body feels like its burning inside its own skin.]

[His eyes flare anew. Red eyes like the red apple the serpent forced down Eve's throat.]

[His chest heaving, Vergilius moves to again yank the man back by a fistful of hair, growling right into his face with a new line of teeth.]

What the fuck have you done to me, Silco?

[zauneyete]

[ Vergilius moves far faster than expected — but is that because of the poison winding in his blood, sinking into his flesh like fangs? Or has he always been that fast, and he'd never been given the chance to notice? — He hissed when pulled back, his fingers clawing against that wound even still, as if threatening to rip at it even now.

He was not, however, panicked, despite the sharp hiss of pain. He looked at him with that same disconcerting gaze as always, though now the unblinking one seems to feel more fitting on the face of a vampire than that of just a man. He even took a moment to respond, his eyes drawn to the details. The sharp fangs crowding his mouth, the way his eyes too-fitting now, and the violent, bruising scar his fingers still touched, though he grips the space next to it now, as if ready to push him off if necessary. As if he could.

His focus returned from the large, welting mark to his face, and his lips twitched. Not quite a smile — even he knew the foolishness of that — but more like he was considering. ]

You already know, don't you?

[ He asked, leaning forward slightly, despite the tight pressure from his grip in his hair. ]

Is it not better to use the power available, to make quick work of whatever lurks deeper within? Do you feel lessened, Vergilius? Did I take anything away from you now?

[ He truly thought it was better, of course. Then again, he'd had experience with being a vampire. ]

[immortalpoet]

You took away-

[He breaks off his own sentence. He was ready to say "my humanity", but...that isn't true, isn't it? Can't lose something that wasn't there already. If anything, perhaps Silco is right. This is simply bringing out what was always there.]

[But in the end, Vergilius is a stubborn old bastard, and to have this man try to dictate what he is and what he should be digs under his skin like a thin dagger under the ribs.]

No. I know. You took away my choice.

[And with a burst of energy, he's using that leg he wrapped around the man before to flip them both over on the ground - now he's the one straddling the other, teeth bared. With his new fangs, and the vivid eyes, he truly looks like something that just pulled itself out of the burning depths of hell.]

[His scarred hand grasps the man's hands to pull them above his head and slam his wrists to the floor, head hovering above head with a face like a demon.]

I should rip your arms out of your socket and beat you over the head with them. If you can make choices for me, I can make damn sure I'll make choices for you.

[And a throaty little noise, almost a guttural laugh.]

As if you know me.

[zauneyete]

Don't I?

[ He asked — hissed — through the pain, fingers twitching and trying to fight him off, but given the differences between them; size, strength, and experience; it's unsurprising that he can only ineffectually writhe his wrists, trying to slip them free.

It might be foolish, to try and fight him off, but Silco knew nothing other than to fight. He'd always been a fighter, always been the type to slip free at the last second before the axe finally came down on him. He looked up at him, not with fear, not more than the irrational part that came unbidden, but he held that, and wrangled it under control, his heart pounding too-loud in his chest. Would he? Would he really? Or would he say that, and then do nothing of the sort?

It was foolish, what he was doing now, but how could he do anything but? Adrenaline made him too-foolish. ]

Did I take them, Vergilius? Did I make you bite me? [ He leaned up, head lifting from the ground, their faces separated by an inch at best. He can see the pattern of scars on his face, not as vile or stringy as his, but the lattice of them on his skin spoke to a hard life of strife, the same as his hands, he caught the ridge of one with his fingers, still trying to break free. His nail catches it, scratching at it, like he's peeling back the layers on his hand like that night not so long ago. ] Or did you do that on your own?

[ His lips curled into a smile. It could be seen as goading, as he hissed in his face. ] What choice did I take from you? Tell me.

[immortalpoet]

[It rings like a bell, the echo of a previous time. The Purple Tear, smiling from where she stood as the wreckage of the beautiful garden he had built was strewn around him like after a war.]

[Well, its a shame about those children...that's one less pretense for you to wear.]

[He could argue about this. Silco did take this from him, transform him into a vampire. But is this just who he is? He had decried the things as pathetic before. Strangled by their need for blood. Isn't, he, too, confined by his own deception and hypocrisy? He, who hated to kill, who killed anyways? He, who as Silco pointed out, decided to bite him?]

[Silco's beautiful jewel of an eye is an inhuman one. The other is far too human. What a mirror he is - another man who drowned in the muck but was conscious of all he could and wanted to be. He had no guilt holding him back, though. He looks for remorse, and finds none. Just his own voice hissing into his ear.]

[His own look falters - the nail digs in, the scar beading with blood. But at the same time, even as Silco seems to be gaining an edge, there's a renewed shock of defiance that comes. His fingers curl, Silco's wrists threatening to crack.]

[His sanity slips. But the coin will always flip heads.]

You really don't get it, do you? [A laugh against his lips, his own mouth curving into a cruel smile.] You think this is power? You caged yourself with a vulnerability that can be exploited. I could shackle you up and let you wither out for all your efforts. Congratulations.

[Applause for Mr. Silco. He fought Bloodfiends. In a way, they're the most backwards of them all.]

You took away my choice to be a slave to power. Or did you think where you are now is higher than you were before? Don't be so blind. I always thought you were powerful. You didn't need to do this to prove it to me.

[zauneyete]

[ He had not faltered through all of this. It had been something of an impulse, the moment Vergilius had decided to insult them as lesser, he'd thought to prove it to him, but he'd not even had to get so far as to force anything down his throat. Vergilius had don't that all on his own, and wasn't that the whole point? That he was just ready to break free, if only he let himself. If only he didn't fret, and let his impulse run wild?

He could feel his wrists nearly crack under the force of his grip. A part of him — that part he spends so much energy wrangling — feels a flutter of fear at the crushing weight on his wrists, on him pinning himself down, and the sharp, cruel smile on his lips.

There it is. There he is, the real monster lying in hibernation, waiting to be let free. ]

Would you?

[ He asks, still on the floor and in fully prime position to get locked up, if he was going to do so. His strength is nothing like his, after all. He may have some minor improvements, but Silco hadn't been strong before, not like that. Not like he'd needed to be.

So the second dig forces him to falter, just briefly. Slightly. His lips twitch, as if he's fighting a grimace, a snarl, a smile — maybe all of them. He remembered the high of living like a vampire, how invulnerable he felt, how he felt like he could finally actually stand toe-to-to with the rest of them. How he hated feeling so weak, and vulnerable once again. How power only came if one took it, and he'd known that he would have to do something to make it through this kaiju once more. How could he have done anything else?

What power could he have that Vergilius saw? One that he was blind to? ]

You are no more a slave than I am.

[ He says, if just to drag it out, like if he waited, he could figure out what he meant. ]

Is it not better to be sturdier, or stronger? What power do I have that this does not make better?

[ Is it really asking what he meant, if it's a statement? ]

[immortalpoet]

I could. Or...would you enjoy that?

[Perhaps he's a slave to pain. But that's a brief little petty reaction in his own head, nothing more - he doesn't think the man is anything like that. He would put himself through pain to get what he wanted. An example is right here. To win this little conflict of theirs, he has put himself in a vulnerable, fragile position.]

[All to prove a point.]

[Being called a slave makes his eyebrows dip down. He can't argue that. A slave to the flow. A slave to the binds of the City. A slave to his Company and its contract. What would it be like, if he wanted to have his own way and nothing else? Probably that Vergilius of that time, raging in his tragedy.]

[The poison of before prickles under his skin. He feels restless. But he can no longer differentiate between the feral instinct of the vampire and the constant wrath of his core.]

Perhaps it is better in certain aspects. But Silco, there's plenty of strong brutes out there. You may have directed some in the past, in your line of profession.

[He bends in to whisper into the man's ear - his bangs tickle the sides of his scarred cheek as his lips open, fangs pressed over it. As if he could rip the ear off here and there. If Silco moves his head, he might as well do so.]

Be real with yourself. You're simply looking for more advantages. But to answer your questions, no. They're not inherently better than you. Unless you want to tear yourself apart to go down to their level? Be my fucking guest.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco goes still, the brush of bangs and fangs on the too-raw skin on his face, no makeup on his face today, leaving it raw and exposed, like it was bared for all to see. His dark, open eye strained to catch sight of him, pressed so close to his face, and he nearly did jerk away, but he held fast. Normally, nobody touched his scar, and he fights the urge to fight against his weight over him, understanding that he could lose something, were he not careful.

He swallows, audibly. ]

I am looking for more advantages. [ He is not ashamed of that, at least. How could he be? ] A strong brute only knows one way to solve a problem. I've seen what only strength yields. I've directed it, as you already know.

[ Hell, he'd done so to Vergilius, too. It's a natural place that he can fall into. Easy. Routine. ]

I've also seen what happens when I'm on my own. Do you know how many times I've died? [ He does move slightly, slowly only to tip his head slightly, press it against Vergilius so he can remind him that he is just as dangerous. A scrape of fangs against whatever skin he could find — it ends up on his jaw, near the bite. ]

If I don't have enough, it could happen again. This time, there's no coming back, is there? I have little other choice.

[ Back to choices. He never has though, not really. ]

[immortalpoet]

So. There it is. At least part of the equation.

[There's no movement of his mouth, even as he feels the man's lips open so that the threat of teeth is pressed against him. He only continues to monopolize the man's ear, tongue dipping out with his words as he continues on. His grip is unrelenting.]

[But they seem to be getting somewhere.]

Fear of death. An understandable thing. A human thing.

[A mild little twist of his head as the sharp edge of a fang cuts a pretty line against the upper part of his ear. A bead of blood wells up from the wound - he licks it up.]

...So, why aren't you scared of me, Silco?

[zauneyete]

[ He had been about to argue that it wasn't fear of death, that he didn't fear anything — but instead exhaled, a hiss of air forced through clenched teeth from pain — his thoughts are kept on the moment, instead of deceiving either himself or Vergilius. Of course, he feared death. What human did not? Why hadn't he been fighting, tooth and nail to survive to the end of another world's inevitable destruction, preserving not just himself, but that one, most important thing? If he'd have died fully, what would have happened to her? Even now, he worries, what would happen, should he die?

His teeth gnash, pain in his ear, but it's almost distant because the question doesn't have an easy answer either. Why doesn't he fear him? His power was great, it was true, he could have cut him down where he stood — but he hadn't — what had possessed him to gamble foolishly like this? Over-confidence? No, he was not that foolish. Trust? Even more unlikely.

There Was a truth buried somewhere in there, isn't there? Vergilius licks at the blood welling at the injury. Does he shiver?

His teeth scraped against his cheek — ] Would you kill me?

[ It is perhaps foolish to turn it back on him, when he asks a specific question, but he continues, instead of giving him the chance to respond, fangs sharp enough to leave an indent but not drawing blood. It is pointed, the way he makes sure to press it in with speech, never quite breaking through. ]

I think you wouldn't. You're just like me, aren't you? [ Monsters, lurking in the guise of a man. He didn't bite him, but he let the promise of it — fangs pressed to cheek, his scar and skin pressed up against his. If he tipped his head slightly, Vergilius would see that burning pit of an eye, orange and glowing (always glowing) staring at him. ] Would anyone else understand you — all of you — like I would?

[ He was right, when he'd said that he didn't know him, but he knew enough of him. He'd seen the pieces, and Silco was a smart man, perhaps only when he saw what he understood, but that he did understand. ]

[immortalpoet]

...

[Would he kill him?]

[He could. He can. It's possible. He's done it before in mere seconds for lesser reasons. Silco has seen it for himself. He doesn't even need his sword. He could detach his hands, clasp them over the man's face, and smash the skull like a grape.]

[He could do it now, and add the man's blood to the endless red sea. His flow cannot be stopped. Silco's life is meaningless in the long run. A stone to trip upon. A thorn in one's side - or perhaps another thorn to his crown to dig into his head.]

[The man's fangs threaten. But the words seem to settle in heavier. He didn't really need to be understood...did he? This isn't a hand offered to pull him out of the muck. A fellow soul, bathed in red, wandering through his own sea of sin and blood. Nothing could ever cleanse them now. In the midst of it, Malkuth's face suddenly seems to appear in his vision. A soul to understand him. No, he didn't think he needed to be understood before, but she had smiled, and touched his face, and brought light where there wasn't anything at all.]

[Silco didn't understand him like that. But did that make his vision any less valid? Perhaps both were correct. He's a man and a monster. He's always felt that sort of paradox burning under his chest.]

[What is he, in the end?]

[For the first time, he's withdrawn in this - reason and sense pushing back the instinct, but overwhelmed by confused, tight emotion. That glowing eye stares him down. Like that eye in a box, witnessing everything that he is, the tragedy of man. But that eye had stared as if to gain entertainment from him. What does this eye see?]

[So he asks, even as he shifts his head to almost unconsciously drift his lips against that scar, eye staring into eye.]

[The abyss can stare back, too.]

...Would anyone else understand you like I would?

[Not an answer, he knows. But he doesn't know how to answer it, anyways.]

[zauneyete]

[ No, it's not a hand up that Silco offers; instead it is an iron grip, holding one under like the undertow, tugging him down into the mire, drowning in it, until that's all one can see and dream of. Just like him. Silco never knew of anything else, couldn't even conceptualize anything other than the fight. There's so little room for anything other than anger and violence that it seeps into those few spaces where they should not be. To lash out at the world for every injustice means that everything gets caught up in it -- even those he doesn't intend to.

He isn't used to being caught on the back foot like this, but something in his brain short circuits, one unblinking eye staring back at the red too-red abyss, like blood shared between them. He stares back at another creature of circumstance, of fighting against a tide and losing, and what type of monster settles into the heart of a man when loss after loss piles on, shaving away slice after slice of humanity, until there's nothing left but instinct, fighting against the inexorable tide. The hunger remains, the temptation still there to sink his teeth back into that wound, but lips on fetid flesh are a distraction he has no real defense against. His fingers try again to dig at Vergilius's grip, fighting to even find purchase, as if that would restore some kind of control over the situation, over Vergilius, or even over himself. He can't seem to find it, that normally readily available control.

The question again leaves him grasping at answers or questions -- his mind immediately lights on the one person in his life that would drag him into deeper madness, Jinx ever on the forefront, but did she truly understand her father, or even should she? Could she, mad and chaotic; wild and free and just the way she should be? Never held down by expectation, always surprising, and if she did, would she stay the same? Or would true understanding come with loss, the loss of everything that made her perfect? Others, close but their lack of humanity meant there was an expectation for him, a human, mortal expectation. Vergilius was just as mortal as he was. A man-beast straining against constraining flesh. ]

Would anybody have to, if you did?

[ If he really did? If he allowed himself to be drug down into the muck with him, suffocating in it, letting it wash over the both of them like angry waves.

He wants to sink his teeth into him again. He doesn't, but they're so close right now, his lips moving on his too-heated scar, Silco's fangs still close enough to puncture skin. He shifted, his lips close to his ear instead, almost brushing against the skin there. ]

I don't think anyone could, do you?

[immortalpoet]

[....What did he just say?]

[As if, what? As if he could be enough? Surely not. Silco is a rough man, all bitter edges and worn-out angles, but surely, in his world, he must have compatriots. He must have fellow souls to shoulder the burden. Even the young one he looks after, couldn't she do that for him?]

[He can't help but look almost a bit incredulous, despite himself. No one? No one at all?]

[What a lonely existence.]

[Again, that dark night comes to mind. A man in a mask standing in the corner, filled with bloodlust like nothing else. And yet, he had not feared him. He only wished to soothe that ravaging soul, even if he also knew that was impossible.]

[So what to do? Silco is reaching out of the muck towards a man sinking into it, determined to drown in the well of his own karma. Monsters in human flesh, the both of them. But could he be more? Could Silco be more? Is their anger enough? Is their anger all that they should be?]

[The man's fangs are at his neck. There's that small voice inside of him that wishes that he'd just be done with it. There's another voice that would tear him apart for the insolence of threatening his life, not when he still has so much to do.]

[Ah. It would be simpler to just be a monster.]

[They're so close. They're close enough like they could subsume each other. Silco brushes against his ears, and he murmurs, exhaling a low sigh against the skin. It feels like he's at a threshold. He reaches over it, unable to help himself in his restless and poisoned state, dragging his lips downward over the ravaged skin to end it with the faintest kiss to the edge of his worrisome mouth.]

...That all depends if you'd want me to. Would you?

[zauneyete]

[ Maybe, if he ever met Jinx, he would understand exactly how unlikely it is that she would understand Silco truly. There is a fracture between them that has always existed; their shared traumas held them together, but it also chipped away at that fracture bit by bit. Silco would never forsake his daughter, and would always choose her, but was that a lonely existence? Yes, fighting tooth and nail, and every bit of his power and prominence were wielded as a cudgel just to protect her. Sevika too, unendingly loyal, is still just that. Loyal. She is easy to work with, accurate and well-placed as a lieutenant, but, he knows that the moment she thinks he is done, she will cut him. She'd done it with Vander, after all.

Oddly, the closest in any world was Set, a god whose soul and his were intertwined in that odd way, some of the sharp fragments and odd angles caused by warping from a matron that too-long had pushed him in that direction, their odd shared stories a promise to kill one another at the end of it all; because what was there except a promise of victory and caring for their children at the end of all worlds? What else could he have done, when at the end of all worlds, there would have only been one Set left standing? A promise from two fathers, to protect the only thing that had left, to make up for how they had flayed their children in their own ways, trying to achieve something like redemption through their children. They were the same; he'd promised that to Set; and they were. But they had been on opposite sides of a war, too. They held understanding, but was it like this? Whatever... this was?

But Silco had flayed and torn every other possibility down. Alienated everyone; he killed a god because she had tried to understand; apologize for the state of his world and his people, because he hated the pity, he didn't want it. His city, his people, and him were stronger for everything that was subjected to them, they had thrived like weeds poking out of the cracks in concrete, thriving despite every rock they placed on their heads. He wanted people to understand that they were the monsters created by circumstance, but they were not pitiable. They were strong, testaments to what could happen, to what they could accomplish.

He was hardened and shaped into the odd angles that required a man to thrive in a place like Zaun. It's a bitter and lonely existence, keeping everyone at arms length, desperately fighting to salve the wound that betrayal leaves. Trying to cut the world to the quick to put something new in its place, and Kenos had only served to harden that distance and madden him at the same time, breaking him into crazed pieces that reforged only to serve someone else, a hateful spark that was burning out as quickly as it consumed all the oxygen around him, ever-focused on only one goal. Reviving that spark that was his daughter, no matter the cost, thinking it was the only way he would ever see her again.

Now that burning fire had nowhere to go. It was all gone; everything he'd thought wrong; it was aimless and struggling to find purchase. All that was left was that angry, hateful man at the center, alone. He had the gods, of course, but Vergilius had seen it too, how often he lashed out, spoke up, or was just plain unpalatable as if it were a coat of armor to protect what was left. Who but a god of conflict and war could enjoy his very presence?

It has been a long; long time — the question and the...

He almost doesn't know what to say for a long moment, Silco very rarely rendered speechless and yet here he was, entirely without anything to say. He closed his mouth — were their mouths still close? — and swallowed. ]

Would... [ Did he? Even want to be understood? Like this? Yes, of course he did, how often had he ranted and raved and cajoled and tried to convince? Sevika, for all of her loyalty, was that. Loyal. She understood Zaun, but him? ] ...I offer you the same, if I didn't? Understanding goes both ways, Vergilius.

[ With their mouths so close, his words are what move against Vergilius's mouth, he can't pull back — but his hands are still, too. ]

[immortalpoet]

[Yes, his hands are still. Vergilius is keeping them there. One by one, his scarred fingers detach from where they have been holding his wrists firm to the point of threatening fracture. But he knows that as much physical damage as he can do here, Silco can always hurt himself more.

[He still hurts. All is not forgiven. The anger will always burn and boil through every blood vessel as long as he lives. He may be placid most of the time on the surface, but that's just what anger looks like after years of it baked into a soul. It's the tip of the iceberg. Silco has careened to it. Perhaps he threatens to crash into it and get more of a taste of how deep it goes.]

[He would know a thing or two about wanting to redeem one's self through children. Even that voice so long ago had called him out on it. Through children, one could change the City, he believed.]

[That iceberg grew so deep that day, down to the roiling guts of the bottom of the blood red sea. He had told Silco that. Once upon a time, an old man believed he could destroy the world. Perhaps a part of him still believes that. There's such a fine line between sanity and losing one's mind.]

[As he pulls his hands to clasp over the other's shoulders, even as wounded as they are, he knows he lost his mind a long time ago.]

...Then go ahead. Understand me, then. Both ways.

[An invitation. An open door. Take your diving gear to the iceberg, dear. Let's see if its possible. If they can even be on the same page.]

You bastard.

[One more breathed word, eyes flickering with light as he finally signs it all. Lips meet lips gently, carefully, almost chastely, even as rough as his lips are. So it goes.]

[He is good at following contracts, after all.]

[zauneyete]

[ Weren't they both insane?

The two of them; warped by cities filled with unending cruelty and sharp pain, like they were being excised of everything that made them sane. He can see that anger bubbling like a roiling river beneath the surface of his gaze, something that threatened to lash out at any given moment. He knew what it was, to be so angry, to have it lurking just beneath the surface; Silco's own black eye was practically brimming with it, like the ugliness of it was threatening to break free at any given moment, ripping and tearing out from his skin; barely controlled at any given time.

He would have burned a world down for his daughter, but this world was already burning, threatening to rip itself at the seams. What did he care for this world? What did he care for these people? What worth did this world have? It made him foolish, gambling with a half-hand, unwise choices, like not fighting to buck the man off, instead discussing... this... with him.

He barely has time to feel the blood return to his fingers from his crushing grip, before —

Just like everything else about him, Vergilius's lips are rough, a contrast to everything else about Silco, who is not soft, but hasn't lived a life of brutality, all the calluses and rough edges on the outside are smoothed over, the only signs of his rough upbringing present in the scars on his lips or on his hands. He does not react for a long, long moment. Like his brain and everything else has to catch up.

This is a foolish gamble, allowing someone to even try; let alone a monster just like he was, angry and burning up like a fire that's lit too hot and ready to burn out. Would they consume each other? Like two beasts competing over territory, or come to that understanding he'd offered? ]

I am. [ He says it against his lips, it's almost like he returns the gesture with the way his lips move against his. ] You wanted to understand me.

[ His fingers, now free, find his shoulder, and his neck. His thumb grazes against the wound, tempted to dig in again. If just to prove a point. He doesn't, but it hovers over the wound, reminding him that he was not the iceberg that Vergilius was, but something raging, like a wildfire, fighting to consume everything in its wake. ]

[immortalpoet]

I am, too.

[The man presses those spider-like hands up against his coarse skin. Silco would be the type to find a wound and dig in. He expects him to do so again, but its a mild surprise that he doesn't. Then again, Vergilius also is ready in a heartbeat to act on his urges. As much as he had felt for Roland then, he was prepared to fight to the death like the beast he was at the threat of it.]

[Silco is raging wildfire, like poison ready to dig into veins to destroy from the inside. He's colder in comparison - Vergilius has honed his anger like its a craft in and of itself. But Silco, crafty one, he's managed to add some heat to it, hasn't he?]

[He exhales a little laugh against the man, throaty and deep.]

Unless that's a dealbreaker?

[His little joke. Of course it wouldn't be. He doesn't even think he would be in this position for a second if he was a mite nicer than he was. So where would this lead? Mutual destruction, or mutual understanding? Both?]

[There's a crack of a smile on his worn face. He could go for another kiss again for the sheer spite of it all. But he'll wait. A little patient, though he's shifting back a little as if he means to pull himself off. Is it a tease? Hard to say.]

[zauneyete]

Oh?

[ He asked, a half-laugh on his scarred lips, more a scoff than humor, though it was there. There was mock curiosity in his tone, as if these were steps to a dance; or maybe closer to the steps of negotiation. It's like business, in its own way, which makes this easy where Silco's lack of...recent experience would otherwise stay his hand and beg more caution.

Foolish, he thinks, but with the poison in his veins, he's less under danger than he would have been otherwise. So why would it be considered foolish? Was his life in danger? This was not Zaun, where there was the weight of a burgeoning war; nor was it Kenos, where he was struggling to hold onto the one thing that would keep him from breaking apart at the seams. He nearly had, too, feeling the bubbling rage under his fingertips and practically leaking from open wounds that wouldn't close. This was different here, and the power that vampirism gave him made him... foolhardy. Too confident. (Oh, how it would bite (😏) him later.)

His thumb scrapes against the wound, dull nails to worried and coarse flesh. He would — will — cut the both of them to see what happens when they're flayed into pieces, and how everything rearranges. ]

That would make me something of a hypocrite, wouldn't it?

[ He absolutely was one. His lips twitched into that sharp smile, as always. It's just as predatory as ever — the only kind of smile that rests on his face. Like a beast lurking under the water, ready to lunge.

When he pulls away, Silco moves to follow; whether it's to chase or simply get up, it's probably difficult to separate the difference. Propped slightly on one elbow, his other fingers dig into that wound. He looks him in the eye when he does it; as if daring him to complain about it, or lash out, or... something. ]