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[ His breath catches from the force of it, and this time he actually winces. It's violent, it very nearly threatens to tug him under a flood of memories that he keeps trying to drown — even though it's all he can do to not think about it — his eyes look hazy, unfocused,for a half second. It's terrible, it burns at his scalp, and flutters down his spine.
Heartbeat racing, he finally focused on him, his lips peeled back into something between a grimace and a smile. It's ugly, it's sharp, it wants him to think about it. He can feel the rush of violence just as much as he can see it in his face.
He never looks away from his eyes. ]
Understanding. [ There's strain in his voice, he says it with a hiss. ] Freedom. How can you choose what you want, if you can't even see all of the options?
[ Nails digging into his shoulder, slotted against him — they're still spent, and naked — it's more intimate, to speak of this like this. Like they're already both flayed open, without pretense. ]
Heartbeat racing, he finally focused on him, his lips peeled back into something between a grimace and a smile. It's ugly, it's sharp, it wants him to think about it. He can feel the rush of violence just as much as he can see it in his face.
He never looks away from his eyes. ]
Understanding. [ There's strain in his voice, he says it with a hiss. ] Freedom. How can you choose what you want, if you can't even see all of the options?
[ Nails digging into his shoulder, slotted against him — they're still spent, and naked — it's more intimate, to speak of this like this. Like they're already both flayed open, without pretense. ]
[It's similar to before. It's different than before. Here they are, completely well entangled mind, body, and spirit.]
[Even here, the rush to ruin is mixed with a heady, confusing heat - unable to extricate himself from this need to fight, to fuck. Silco smiles so naughtily, and he wants to shove it down his throat.]
I don't want all the options.
[Because what does freedom give him? Happiness? Hardly not.]
Besides. You just want to put me in another cage.
[He bends forward, nose pressed against the other's jawline. His breath is hot, his free hand that splays over the other's back even more so.]
[Even here, the rush to ruin is mixed with a heady, confusing heat - unable to extricate himself from this need to fight, to fuck. Silco smiles so naughtily, and he wants to shove it down his throat.]
I don't want all the options.
[Because what does freedom give him? Happiness? Hardly not.]
Besides. You just want to put me in another cage.
[He bends forward, nose pressed against the other's jawline. His breath is hot, his free hand that splays over the other's back even more so.]
No?
[ He asks, his voice is a slithering little thing. Insidious in the way it coils, asks the question, challenges him in that. He's still strained, but Vergilius's nose is against his jaw, and it's hot and warm, his body against him, hand on his back, breath tickling his skin.
He rails against him, but surges forward. It's violent, but Silco knows nothing but violence. What would something else get him? He would crush it into pieces before even getting here. Vergilius is strong, hard, and angry — oh yes, so angry. ]
I wouldn't cage you.
[ Voice low, a tickle of it against his ear. Is it a promise, or a lie? Does he even know himself? Is it a cage that he offers, even if he doesn't hold the key? Perhaps, more honestly... ] Do you think I could?
[ He asks, his voice is a slithering little thing. Insidious in the way it coils, asks the question, challenges him in that. He's still strained, but Vergilius's nose is against his jaw, and it's hot and warm, his body against him, hand on his back, breath tickling his skin.
He rails against him, but surges forward. It's violent, but Silco knows nothing but violence. What would something else get him? He would crush it into pieces before even getting here. Vergilius is strong, hard, and angry — oh yes, so angry. ]
I wouldn't cage you.
[ Voice low, a tickle of it against his ear. Is it a promise, or a lie? Does he even know himself? Is it a cage that he offers, even if he doesn't hold the key? Perhaps, more honestly... ] Do you think I could?
[ Stay with 2-4 people they say. There's limited "space" they say. His current room is flooded, and so Silco can't even obstinately sneak into his private space despite orders — or else he would have — so here he is, with his small bag of items he'd taken with him on the trip, looking for an unoccupied room. Would they really stop him if he didn't seek out "roommates"?
He opens the door to an empty one — he thinks it's empty — and his eyes scan back and forth down the hallway — maybe a little paranoid — before he slips in.
Although who's in the room isn't hard to figure out, since only one person smokes cigars around the base, and only one person tends to smoke inside.
So you know. If anyone is say... walking by, even looking for him... he's easy to find. ]
He opens the door to an empty one — he thinks it's empty — and his eyes scan back and forth down the hallway — maybe a little paranoid — before he slips in.
Although who's in the room isn't hard to figure out, since only one person smokes cigars around the base, and only one person tends to smoke inside.
So you know. If anyone is say... walking by, even looking for him... he's easy to find. ]
She's gone.
Home, I think. She was doing well when I last checked in on her.
Just figured you'd want to know.
Home, I think. She was doing well when I last checked in on her.
Just figured you'd want to know.
[First Rodion, and now...]
and so the manager has no one left to manage...
hm. i wonder why now. i suppose we may never know
how do you feel about it?
and so the manager has no one left to manage...
hm. i wonder why now. i suppose we may never know
how do you feel about it?
Not great.
We had a talk some days back, so I'm better than I would have been if we hadn't, but that's not saying much.
We had a talk some days back, so I'm better than I would have been if we hadn't, but that's not saying much.
She wanted to make sure I'd keep going, even if she went back home.
[Or died for good. But they don't want to talk about that right now. That she's alive even though she's gone has been one of the things they've been taking solace in.]
Feels like I've made promises along the same lines to both of you the past couple of days. I've got my work cut out for me.
[Or died for good. But they don't want to talk about that right now. That she's alive even though she's gone has been one of the things they've been taking solace in.]
Feels like I've made promises along the same lines to both of you the past couple of days. I've got my work cut out for me.
as expected our class president looks out for others in her own way.
promises are promises. you shouldn't be swallowed up by them though
need an excuse for a break?
promises are promises. you shouldn't be swallowed up by them though
need an excuse for a break?
[Here comes fury.]
[He may not have his EGO on, but the aura of him is palpable even before he slams open the door. His red eyes are that of a bat out of hell as he stands, staring straight at Silco's face.]
[There he is. Man of the hour. His words drip with something simmering, aggravated, a growl in his chest.]
And there you are. Hiding away, are you?
[He may not have his EGO on, but the aura of him is palpable even before he slams open the door. His red eyes are that of a bat out of hell as he stands, staring straight at Silco's face.]
[There he is. Man of the hour. His words drip with something simmering, aggravated, a growl in his chest.]
And there you are. Hiding away, are you?
Yeah, I could step away for a little while.
[They haven't been able to concentrate since they found out she was gone anyway.]
Where are you thinking?
[They haven't been able to concentrate since they found out she was gone anyway.]
Where are you thinking?
[ He could have said that he predicted that he would come — but as soon as something looms at the door he knows who it is. He slams open the door, and Silco doesn't look away from him. He's puffing on a cigar, but he sets it aside, right into an ashtray that he'd managed to fish out of his drowned room.
He's angry, but Silco knew he would be. He knew who Silco was, he knew what kind of a person he'd bedded. He'd known that the knife was coming, even.
So Silco only tipped his head, still expelling the last remnants of smoke through his lips. ]
Looking for me, were you? [ He knows better than to show fear. He doesn't look away from him, but he never does. ]
Did you think I would hide away from you? [ Even after... The room is empty, after all. ]
He's angry, but Silco knew he would be. He knew who Silco was, he knew what kind of a person he'd bedded. He'd known that the knife was coming, even.
So Silco only tipped his head, still expelling the last remnants of smoke through his lips. ]
Looking for me, were you? [ He knows better than to show fear. He doesn't look away from him, but he never does. ]
Did you think I would hide away from you? [ Even after... The room is empty, after all. ]
[He's always angry.]
[Even at his calmest, anger still holds his heart like a vice. Wrath is colored red, and what would be more fitting for him, the Red Gaze whose eyes always show what's really going on in his head?]
[Silco matches that gaze. Silco knows his anger, taunts it like its a pet come out to play. He knows the man is goading him. And yet its so easy to fall into the same trap, again and again.]
[His chest heaves as he shakes his head, usually quiet voice raised an octave.]
Not like you stuck around.
[He's here. He's not out there.]
Enough playing games with me. I'm not a beast in the cage to poke at with a stick.
[Even at his calmest, anger still holds his heart like a vice. Wrath is colored red, and what would be more fitting for him, the Red Gaze whose eyes always show what's really going on in his head?]
[Silco matches that gaze. Silco knows his anger, taunts it like its a pet come out to play. He knows the man is goading him. And yet its so easy to fall into the same trap, again and again.]
[His chest heaves as he shakes his head, usually quiet voice raised an octave.]
Not like you stuck around.
[He's here. He's not out there.]
Enough playing games with me. I'm not a beast in the cage to poke at with a stick.
[ Cultivating Anger like this, Silco thinks, is an art. Vergilius always holds it back, like it's a feral, raging bloodhound ready to strike. Silco pokes and prods at it, making it worse, as if he could incite it enough to break its lead, and run rampant. His anger is always there, and it always seems to find Silco.
He welcomes it. It's honest. There's no pretense here, no lying. He's angry with him, and isn't that a far sight better than anything else? There are no lies between lovers, no promises to break. It's all anger and spite, playing a game, dancing back and forth.
Silco pushed himself off the wall. He doesn't shy away, he steps closer. ]
You're right, I didn't. Would you have rather found me where everyone else is milling about? [ Closer, closer. Surprisingly, his fingers ache to feel his skin under his. Touch him, touch the wound he'd left on him.
Would it scar? ]
No, you aren't. [ He agreed. He's close enough now that he could reach out.
He almost does. He holds back. ] What are you, then? Why don't you tell me?
[ His throat and chest still ache, or else he might have told him what he thinks. But just for once, he doesn't, for once only letting his fingers dance along the bars of the cage without darting in. ]
He welcomes it. It's honest. There's no pretense here, no lying. He's angry with him, and isn't that a far sight better than anything else? There are no lies between lovers, no promises to break. It's all anger and spite, playing a game, dancing back and forth.
Silco pushed himself off the wall. He doesn't shy away, he steps closer. ]
You're right, I didn't. Would you have rather found me where everyone else is milling about? [ Closer, closer. Surprisingly, his fingers ache to feel his skin under his. Touch him, touch the wound he'd left on him.
Would it scar? ]
No, you aren't. [ He agreed. He's close enough now that he could reach out.
He almost does. He holds back. ] What are you, then? Why don't you tell me?
[ His throat and chest still ache, or else he might have told him what he thinks. But just for once, he doesn't, for once only letting his fingers dance along the bars of the cage without darting in. ]
Perhaps I should have. I'm sure that you would love being made into an example of what not to do.
[Silco steps closer. Vergilius doesn't move, as stalwart as a statue - but there's no calm in this. There's simply tension, a spring wound too tight.]
[Silco holds himself at the bars of the cage, and is right to do so. The man inside is liable to bite any stray fingers off.]
What am I? [He scoffs - as if its ridiculous to think that it needs to be clarified. And yet, even the Purple Tear had her point. His label was both boon and curse. The Red Gaze is not just simply-] A man. I'm a man. Not a monster. Not a beast.
[His breath hisses out through gritted teeth.]
I'm a man like you. And you will treat me as such. Silco.
[Silco steps closer. Vergilius doesn't move, as stalwart as a statue - but there's no calm in this. There's simply tension, a spring wound too tight.]
[Silco holds himself at the bars of the cage, and is right to do so. The man inside is liable to bite any stray fingers off.]
What am I? [He scoffs - as if its ridiculous to think that it needs to be clarified. And yet, even the Purple Tear had her point. His label was both boon and curse. The Red Gaze is not just simply-] A man. I'm a man. Not a monster. Not a beast.
[His breath hisses out through gritted teeth.]
I'm a man like you. And you will treat me as such. Silco.
A man like me?
[ He asks it, and his tone dips somewhere in-between a dark promise, and curiosity. Like he thought that Silco wasn't a monster too? Did he think that he was the example of a man? He still doesn't reach out, lets the man's anger wash over him. He doesn't shy away from it, he accepts it. Welcomes it, even.
He says he is not a monster. Not a beast.
Silco looks into his red eyes, and thinks he deludes himself just a little bit. Is this pure hope, that he wants to stay teetering on the edge, suspended between humanity and giving in? Does this serve to make him more miserable? Protracted punishment for the man — beast — that he was? ]
And how should a man like me be treated, then? If you have a different idea, perhaps you should show me.
[ He's close enough to touch, but he waits. Like a patient little spider, to see what he does. ]
[ He asks it, and his tone dips somewhere in-between a dark promise, and curiosity. Like he thought that Silco wasn't a monster too? Did he think that he was the example of a man? He still doesn't reach out, lets the man's anger wash over him. He doesn't shy away from it, he accepts it. Welcomes it, even.
He says he is not a monster. Not a beast.
Silco looks into his red eyes, and thinks he deludes himself just a little bit. Is this pure hope, that he wants to stay teetering on the edge, suspended between humanity and giving in? Does this serve to make him more miserable? Protracted punishment for the man — beast — that he was? ]
And how should a man like me be treated, then? If you have a different idea, perhaps you should show me.
[ He's close enough to touch, but he waits. Like a patient little spider, to see what he does. ]
With respect. With...care.
[He falters on the last word - not like he's unsure of it, no, but it feels like this is not something that pertains to Silco at all. Does Silco care? Silco cares about himself.]
[He shakes his head - he is on that cliff edge, teetering always.]
And what should I show you, huh? You have half a brain in that noggin of yours. I'm sure you can understand.
[He falters on the last word - not like he's unsure of it, no, but it feels like this is not something that pertains to Silco at all. Does Silco care? Silco cares about himself.]
[He shakes his head - he is on that cliff edge, teetering always.]
And what should I show you, huh? You have half a brain in that noggin of yours. I'm sure you can understand.
maybe a bar. i know you can't drink, but a change of pace might be needed
[It sounds less like a change of pace and more like he just wants a drink.
But... they get it. And they aren't going to deny him one, either. Not when they're the only two left.]
You know what, sure. I'll meet you outside.
But... they get it. And they aren't going to deny him one, either. Not when they're the only two left.]
You know what, sure. I'll meet you outside.
Do you think I don't respect you?
[ He asks, as if everything he did didn't say exactly the opposite. To Silco's twisted mind, is it not respect to treat him like he isn't breakable, or fragile? To try to make him something more?
With care he says, and care is dangerous. Silco cares about other things, like Zaun, like his daughter. Care otherwise, to be treated like it, feels like a little lie, something that asks him to drop his guard, let someone in. It's how one ends up with hands around his neck, being drowned in a river, betrayed.
Then again, he knows, that he's in too deep. Isn't Vergilius already in? He'd already wrapped his fingers around his neck. He was here, and Silco was vulnerable. He could kill him with barely a thought — he'd seen his power. He isn't killing him right now. His fingers already want to dig in, and keep him here. Isn't that the same thing as care? It may as well be, for Silco. It's vulnerability, at least.
He breaches the divide, but not by much. Like he's testing the waters. He reaches out, to brush fingers against his shoulder, like he's tentatively putting his fingers into the cage. ]
I want you to show me what you told me you saw in Brașov. Respect, of course... [ But... ] I remember, you told me that you thought me strong enough without any power, didn't you?
Show me that.
[ He asks, as if everything he did didn't say exactly the opposite. To Silco's twisted mind, is it not respect to treat him like he isn't breakable, or fragile? To try to make him something more?
With care he says, and care is dangerous. Silco cares about other things, like Zaun, like his daughter. Care otherwise, to be treated like it, feels like a little lie, something that asks him to drop his guard, let someone in. It's how one ends up with hands around his neck, being drowned in a river, betrayed.
Then again, he knows, that he's in too deep. Isn't Vergilius already in? He'd already wrapped his fingers around his neck. He was here, and Silco was vulnerable. He could kill him with barely a thought — he'd seen his power. He isn't killing him right now. His fingers already want to dig in, and keep him here. Isn't that the same thing as care? It may as well be, for Silco. It's vulnerability, at least.
He breaches the divide, but not by much. Like he's testing the waters. He reaches out, to brush fingers against his shoulder, like he's tentatively putting his fingers into the cage. ]
I want you to show me what you told me you saw in Brașov. Respect, of course... [ But... ] I remember, you told me that you thought me strong enough without any power, didn't you?
Show me that.
I don't think you do, no. This is not...how you respect me.
[Those slender fingers reach out, touch his shoulders - hatefully, it makes the tension in them calm, though he's still a little stiff, guarded, unsure. The feral dog still wants to bite. His own hands clench into fists, relax, his eyes flickering as they go through a million thoughts a minute.]
[He remembers that day. He told Silco, yes, that he did think him powerful. But he also did think that all he was doing was looking for advantages. Which was a foolish thing to him, but Silco always seemed to follow his own greed. Silco followed his own book, his own tune, and he had simply taken fancy to him like a precious jewel.]
[He even said as much. He wanted to bring out the beast in his nature. The one he didn't want to believe was there.]
Why are you...making it about yourself? Even if I show you...you won't follow it for me. I know how you work.
[Those slender fingers reach out, touch his shoulders - hatefully, it makes the tension in them calm, though he's still a little stiff, guarded, unsure. The feral dog still wants to bite. His own hands clench into fists, relax, his eyes flickering as they go through a million thoughts a minute.]
[He remembers that day. He told Silco, yes, that he did think him powerful. But he also did think that all he was doing was looking for advantages. Which was a foolish thing to him, but Silco always seemed to follow his own greed. Silco followed his own book, his own tune, and he had simply taken fancy to him like a precious jewel.]
[He even said as much. He wanted to bring out the beast in his nature. The one he didn't want to believe was there.]
Why are you...making it about yourself? Even if I show you...you won't follow it for me. I know how you work.
You know, do you?
[ He doesn't snap at his fingers. Silco watches him carefully for a brief moment, weathering, gauging, trying to sense the words he's not saying like they're something he can pick out of the air. He says it like it's fact. Like silco is making this out about him, and perhaps he had.
He'll turn it all on his head for him, then. He can do that, keep him guessing, remind him that neither of them understand each other yet. Silco is a man of decisions, of action through proxy, but he can take the actions himself as well. He steps forward, to box him in against the wall. He may be shorter than him, but he thinks Vergilius will let him. His hand remains on his shoulder, his fingers brush there, for once he doesn't dig in.
Not yet.]
We share secrets. [ He says, his voice low, eyes on him. He does not blink. He wants him to see, that they are already intertwined here. He wants him to remain that way. ] I would never spread yours, and nor would you mine. Is that not respect?
Or do you want me to show you in some other way? [ Closer, again. Ever closer. ]
When in a negotiation, both parties make an offer. So show me yours, Vergilius. How can I respect you? Properly?
[ He doesn't snap at his fingers. Silco watches him carefully for a brief moment, weathering, gauging, trying to sense the words he's not saying like they're something he can pick out of the air. He says it like it's fact. Like silco is making this out about him, and perhaps he had.
He'll turn it all on his head for him, then. He can do that, keep him guessing, remind him that neither of them understand each other yet. Silco is a man of decisions, of action through proxy, but he can take the actions himself as well. He steps forward, to box him in against the wall. He may be shorter than him, but he thinks Vergilius will let him. His hand remains on his shoulder, his fingers brush there, for once he doesn't dig in.
Not yet.]
We share secrets. [ He says, his voice low, eyes on him. He does not blink. He wants him to see, that they are already intertwined here. He wants him to remain that way. ] I would never spread yours, and nor would you mine. Is that not respect?
Or do you want me to show you in some other way? [ Closer, again. Ever closer. ]
When in a negotiation, both parties make an offer. So show me yours, Vergilius. How can I respect you? Properly?
[Silco pushes - he should push back. And yet, he's almost half-surprised as his back meets the wall. How laughable. As if Silco could really corner him. Control him. Ridiculous. Nonsense.]
[But they have to understand each other. He promised Silco that, in his own way, time and time again. Silco, too, wants to understand him. Can he? Would he? Or would he just scrabble up what he chooses to?]
[One of his hands moves up, up, as if to again grasp at that slender neck - but stops short at his collar. He grasps it, hard, the veins bulging perceptibly around his knuckles.]
I want... [He's distracted by how close Silco is - its like a sting of a reminder of what he's been missing since their last tryst. He's hungry again, his throat bobbing with a swallow - that night in the van had been a restless one, unable to claim what he wanted. He tries to find words, again.] I want you to...stop doing things to me. Stabbing me. Doing your damn experiments. Whatever. What you see is what you get.
[But they have to understand each other. He promised Silco that, in his own way, time and time again. Silco, too, wants to understand him. Can he? Would he? Or would he just scrabble up what he chooses to?]
[One of his hands moves up, up, as if to again grasp at that slender neck - but stops short at his collar. He grasps it, hard, the veins bulging perceptibly around his knuckles.]
I want... [He's distracted by how close Silco is - its like a sting of a reminder of what he's been missing since their last tryst. He's hungry again, his throat bobbing with a swallow - that night in the van had been a restless one, unable to claim what he wanted. He tries to find words, again.] I want you to...stop doing things to me. Stabbing me. Doing your damn experiments. Whatever. What you see is what you get.
Hm...
[ His hand grips his collar -- he very nearly reached out to grab his neck, he'd almost anticipated it again. A reminder of something that he had done more than once, whenever Silco lashed out at him. Whenever he felt... The sting of the worst of his attentions, he lashed out in kind. Silco hated it, when he grabbed him like that.
He craved it, too. Not necessarily his hands on his neck, but that violence, slipping free of his coiled control. Never quite breaking, but knowing that he would -- could -- take it. That he was both something strong enough that he would not break. He'd promised him that, hadn't he?
He doesn't want to be stabbed. Experimented on. Silco meets his eyes, he reaches out to brush his bangs from over his eyes. So he can look at him unimpeded. ]
Very well. [ He learned what he needed to, at least. There was more than one way to draw violence out of him, and he knew the man had it in droves. It lurks under the surface, rising up from it even now. His other fingers find his hand, those veins, and he drags his thumb down it. He could kill him right now, and nobody would mourn him other than Jinx. He doesn't. He lets Silco in, pressed up against him, boxed against the wall. He lets him touch him -- and Silco does the same. A breach he lets so few in to do. He welcomes it. Even when he's angry like this.
Especially then, maybe. ]
All you had to do was ask.
[ Specifically. He won't leave him alone, but they both knew they were beyond that now. This was something different, messy and complicated. Unspoken. Undefined. It's becoming clearer, sharper. ]
[ His hand grips his collar -- he very nearly reached out to grab his neck, he'd almost anticipated it again. A reminder of something that he had done more than once, whenever Silco lashed out at him. Whenever he felt... The sting of the worst of his attentions, he lashed out in kind. Silco hated it, when he grabbed him like that.
He craved it, too. Not necessarily his hands on his neck, but that violence, slipping free of his coiled control. Never quite breaking, but knowing that he would -- could -- take it. That he was both something strong enough that he would not break. He'd promised him that, hadn't he?
He doesn't want to be stabbed. Experimented on. Silco meets his eyes, he reaches out to brush his bangs from over his eyes. So he can look at him unimpeded. ]
Very well. [ He learned what he needed to, at least. There was more than one way to draw violence out of him, and he knew the man had it in droves. It lurks under the surface, rising up from it even now. His other fingers find his hand, those veins, and he drags his thumb down it. He could kill him right now, and nobody would mourn him other than Jinx. He doesn't. He lets Silco in, pressed up against him, boxed against the wall. He lets him touch him -- and Silco does the same. A breach he lets so few in to do. He welcomes it. Even when he's angry like this.
Especially then, maybe. ]
All you had to do was ask.
[ Specifically. He won't leave him alone, but they both knew they were beyond that now. This was something different, messy and complicated. Unspoken. Undefined. It's becoming clearer, sharper. ]
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