WHO: Silco & Others WHAT: 2025 Catch-all π WHERE: the world is our oyster WHEN: Day or night WARNINGS: blanket warning for drug references, other subjects will be warned for in threads
[He's already settled underneath him. He's already poisoned him. He's already doomed, he feels. There's nothing to protect him, here. He might as well have opened his shirt and showed the man his chest to take a knife to.]
[Understanding is belonging. To belong is to understand. Was that why Malkuth couldn't work out? Because as much as they wanted to belong, they couldn't really understand each other? Does that mean, with something like this, that Silco can understand him better? Or understand him at all? Sometimes it feels like he's far off base. Sometimes it feels like he sees something that isn't there.]
[There's a selfish little worm in his heart, and it says, ah, but it's the same the other way around, isn't it?. It's not just about Silco holding him in his hand. He has the same control over him, has Silco in a way nobody else in this world can have.]
[He pauses, his red eyes trembling in his sockets like flickering flames, before he crosses what little space is in between them to steal a proper kiss, sighing into it like he's had a small weight tipped off his shoulders (there still is so much left).]
[ It feels like a kiss to seal something, like he is being made to swallow something, a bit of that weight upended onto him, so that he can burn it up and consume it. Silco has his own burdens, but they are not something he recognizes, not something he feels like Vergilius feels. He takes it gladly, something searing and painful, teeth and tongue when he kisses back. Raw, sharp edges.
Silco doesn't sigh, but he breathes out through his nose, like there's a finality to it, his fingers still digging in, still holding him close. Is there an end to it, the poison? How much can they share before the is equilibrium? How much should they share? Could they corrupt each other both ways, or will one win out over the other? He knows there are still soft parts to this monster before him, weaknesses, but can he dig into those, or will his own reveal something dark and deep that he will take in kind? Vergilius always knows his greatest weakness, the spot that Silco will always protect carefully.
It's shared, though, between the two of them. That weakness. ]
Oh, Vergilius -- [ He says it against his lips. ] -- I do not make decisions I regret.
[ He finally relaxed his fingers at his neck, to instead brush his bangs from his eyes, to see those flickering flames unimpeded. His own stares back, unwavering. He wonders if he sees it, understands yet, how much he has wormed in as well? How much Silco is just as tied to this as he is? He's given him too much now, he could use it anytime. It's so much of himself in the aim of understanding, that maybe it's edging towards something different. ]
[A kiss to seal a union of two men who belong to the Inferno, to hell itself.]
[He always likes kissing Silco. The uneven teeth, the way he's so eager to bite and leave his mark. It makes him feel alive, at least a little bit. A spark of something more than just a wallowing self-misery and burning wrath.]
[They're only men, in the end. That's what he's realized about Silco, no matter how monstrous he is. A monster wouldn't sincerely enjoy this, wouldn't bear his weakness like this in exchange for his own. In the end, man is the cruelest animal, isn't it?]
Hm. [The bangs are brushed back, his red gaze without cover. Silco always stares into his eyes. He likes that.] I guess we'll see where that decision takes you. Takes us.
[ He's always tried to be a monster, since that first moment he'd slipped out of the water, reborn a new man, scarred and broken, he wanted to be the monster that was created in that baptism. Underneath it all, he's still just a man, weak as any of them. Weaker, even, than he projected, with that hateful eye and sharp edges. He cuts, and gnashes his teeth, and lunges out violently, and protects those soft, weak spots.
Here it is, they're exposed. This might be a poor idea. Silco knows the cost, oh so intimately of what happens when trust is destroyed, or dashed aside. He lives it, his unblinking eye and the scar surrounding it the price he paid for it once.
He stares into his eyes anyway. His gaze is just as eerie as Vergilius's. Sometimes, it feels a little bit like seeing his own strangeness looking back at him. His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost, before it's drug back down underneath the waves. ]
Perhaps we will. [ A beat, and: ] First, I think it should take us back to base, don't you think? Before this...mess is found?
[If only he could drag that smile back out and make it stay. Ah, well. Small victories where he can have them.]
[Small victories, instead of massive losses. They know what it means to lose.]
[A little sigh, as he nods in agreement, moving back off of Silco. He grimaces a little, swiping himself off to smear it on the table before he rezips himself. The laundry will absolutely be his go-to after this.]
Let's go, then. I suppose you don't need an escort?
[ He does the same, although he uses a kerchief, and tucks it into his pocket. It's already stiff with blood, but he may as well. It's ruined as it is. ]
Is the job done if I don't get back safe?
[ His eyebrow lifted, as if there's an implication of a deeper question there. Maybe there is. Maybe he just doesn't expect to take a separate way back. To be fair, they're going to the same place. ]
[He really could just say no. It's easy for him, anyways. He is becoming overly conscious of the scene around them, wine-red blood splattered on every surface. Vergilius swallows.]
[ Less one of his usual soft half-grunts, this one was more thoughtful than most were.
His hand is not heavy β it is a pressing weight at his back β he looked over his shoulder at him, his good eye focused on him for a moment, and he lifted his eyebrow, in silent communication. Saying something he wasn't going to say out loud, even as he didn't hesitate to move. ]
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[Understanding is belonging. To belong is to understand. Was that why Malkuth couldn't work out? Because as much as they wanted to belong, they couldn't really understand each other? Does that mean, with something like this, that Silco can understand him better? Or understand him at all? Sometimes it feels like he's far off base. Sometimes it feels like he sees something that isn't there.]
[There's a selfish little worm in his heart, and it says, ah, but it's the same the other way around, isn't it?. It's not just about Silco holding him in his hand. He has the same control over him, has Silco in a way nobody else in this world can have.]
[He pauses, his red eyes trembling in his sockets like flickering flames, before he crosses what little space is in between them to steal a proper kiss, sighing into it like he's had a small weight tipped off his shoulders (there still is so much left).]
As long as you don't regret it.
[Please don't.]
no subject
Silco doesn't sigh, but he breathes out through his nose, like there's a finality to it, his fingers still digging in, still holding him close. Is there an end to it, the poison? How much can they share before the is equilibrium? How much should they share? Could they corrupt each other both ways, or will one win out over the other? He knows there are still soft parts to this monster before him, weaknesses, but can he dig into those, or will his own reveal something dark and deep that he will take in kind? Vergilius always knows his greatest weakness, the spot that Silco will always protect carefully.
It's shared, though, between the two of them. That weakness. ]
Oh, Vergilius -- [ He says it against his lips. ] -- I do not make decisions I regret.
[ He finally relaxed his fingers at his neck, to instead brush his bangs from his eyes, to see those flickering flames unimpeded. His own stares back, unwavering. He wonders if he sees it, understands yet, how much he has wormed in as well? How much Silco is just as tied to this as he is? He's given him too much now, he could use it anytime. It's so much of himself in the aim of understanding, that maybe it's edging towards something different. ]
no subject
[He always likes kissing Silco. The uneven teeth, the way he's so eager to bite and leave his mark. It makes him feel alive, at least a little bit. A spark of something more than just a wallowing self-misery and burning wrath.]
[They're only men, in the end. That's what he's realized about Silco, no matter how monstrous he is. A monster wouldn't sincerely enjoy this, wouldn't bear his weakness like this in exchange for his own. In the end, man is the cruelest animal, isn't it?]
Hm. [The bangs are brushed back, his red gaze without cover. Silco always stares into his eyes. He likes that.] I guess we'll see where that decision takes you. Takes us.
no subject
Here it is, they're exposed. This might be a poor idea. Silco knows the cost, oh so intimately of what happens when trust is destroyed, or dashed aside. He lives it, his unblinking eye and the scar surrounding it the price he paid for it once.
He stares into his eyes anyway. His gaze is just as eerie as Vergilius's. Sometimes, it feels a little bit like seeing his own strangeness looking back at him. His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost, before it's drug back down underneath the waves. ]
Perhaps we will. [ A beat, and: ] First, I think it should take us back to base, don't you think? Before this...mess is found?
no subject
[Small victories, instead of massive losses. They know what it means to lose.]
[A little sigh, as he nods in agreement, moving back off of Silco. He grimaces a little, swiping himself off to smear it on the table before he rezips himself. The laundry will absolutely be his go-to after this.]
Let's go, then. I suppose you don't need an escort?
no subject
[ He does the same, although he uses a kerchief, and tucks it into his pocket. It's already stiff with blood, but he may as well. It's ruined as it is. ]
Is the job done if I don't get back safe?
[ His eyebrow lifted, as if there's an implication of a deeper question there. Maybe there is. Maybe he just doesn't expect to take a separate way back. To be fair, they're going to the same place. ]
Why don't you escort me anyway?
no subject
[He really could just say no. It's easy for him, anyways. He is becoming overly conscious of the scene around them, wine-red blood splattered on every surface. Vergilius swallows.]
Why don't I. Go ahead, then.
[He places a hand against the man's back.]
Lead the way.
π
[ Less one of his usual soft half-grunts, this one was more thoughtful than most were.
His hand is not heavy β it is a pressing weight at his back β he looked over his shoulder at him, his good eye focused on him for a moment, and he lifted his eyebrow, in silent communication. Saying something he wasn't going to say out loud, even as he didn't hesitate to move. ]
Come on, it's starting to stink in here.