citylogs | October Catch-all!

Entry tags:

October Catch-all!

WHO: Midnight (

unreserving) & open!
WHAT: October catch-all
WHERE: Where isn't he, honestly
WHEN: Catching all of October, will update after the plot details drop!
WARNINGS: ~*Midnight*~. But also probably alcohol and disordered eating mentions generally, will update as necessary. UPDATE: there is some MENTAL HEALTH going on in Hiyori's thread. mind the warnings, there are cults in there.

a. various places (day)

How was that?

[ Midnight flagged your character down for a practice session! Fortunately, it's not his usual jock routine: he spent the last 20 minutes explaining the ins and outs of the City as though his partner has just arrived here. It was a very serious roleplay, Midnight answered all questions with great thought and care. ]

I think it may be best to also mention some basic safety precautions... To proceed with great care to any new locations, to consider supplies and other survival items before risking a new encounter. But other than that... Do you remember any other questions you had in mind when you first arrived here?

b. swimming pool (afternoon)

Did you want one?

[ Why were you staring at this teen in the relaxation pool? Probably because he's sitting on a pool noodle, floating near the edge, snacking on a large carton of chicken nuggets. Said carton is... probably somewhat moist, but he's doing a pretty good job of keeping it from becoming overly waterlogged, and he certainly doesn't seem to be up to any specific mischief. Nope. Just vibing in the pool with chicky nugs.

The kid himself has short, ragged black hair with a few pink streaks, pink eyes, pointed ears, pale skin... Basically, if anyone's met Midnight, one might wonder if he had a little brother or a son who's just arrived. The similarities are quite uncanny. However, his question isn't particularly... Midnight-y. It's just a question. The most obvious reason why one would be staring at someone else's food in the first place. ]

c. garden prompt

[ Midnight will be avoiding the more grabby plants — he doesn't want to test if their thirst for his blood will lead to their demise via Originium — so the grabbiness here? Why, that's your hand he's grabbing. Because he's spotted someone he may or may not know among these very rude plants and, after listening to some of the gossiping circulating, has made an executive decision to leave the venue with his new partner in tow. (He... did get an earful about your characters issues on the way, but his main concern at the moment is getting his new partner out.) ]

Nasty lot, aren't they? Manners are free. Come along, love. Let's get a drink.

d. wildcard

if you'd like a custom starter please dm me (i don't have plurk sorry)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Midnight wishes that he could just ask for a kiss again and leave it at that. But that's insane. He knows. Part and parcel of the problem. ]

I am a demon, sir. A vampire.

[ He looks down at Vergilius through his eyelashes. ]

I love in a way that looks like cracking ribs open, eating hearts. It's that sort of thing. I can't stop that part of me. I simply don't follow through because the other part of love is to do no harm, or at least as little harm as possible. That's about as concise as I can be about it, darling.

[ So it goes. He studies Vergilius. Wonders if he thinks he'll hurt him again. ]

...A vampire, huh. I fought a woman alongside many others that could be called as one a long time ago. She was a Star of the City. The Blood-Red Night. A vicious sort.

[But she and Midnight seem so drastically different. This man isn't some wild horrific Distortion.]

[To him, he's just a man.]

So what are you saying, then? [He tilts his head, considering.] That even if it is your nature, you'll fight against that for...what, for me?

No, not really. It's an explanation, not a call to action.

[ Midnight shakes his head. ]

What I'm saying is that it isn't in my nature to care about things like headcounts, or blood on one's hands, or guilt. Those are things I care about because happiness is tied to those sorts of things, but resolving these things are less important to me than one might expect. In the end, I just want someone to kiss.

[ Even if that someone just killed him, and he killed that person in return. No strings attached. No worry about whether it might be too much. If Vergilius is the demon he claims to be, he would understand that. Midnight is watching for an answer. ]

...

[It isn't in his nature to care about headcounts or blood on hands or guilt. So its more about him, than anything.]

[He raises that hand on his chest to lift up to his face, closing over his vivid eyes. He doesn't know what to think. He just died. He's exhausted. He's tired. He's again in his maelstrom of guilt. He'll never stop killing people. If it happened again, he would've done it again. There would be no hesitation.]

There's better people to kiss, you know. You...deserve better.

Do I.

[ Midnight shrugs. ]

Well, no matter. If everyone in the world received their just desserts, we'd live in a story, not reality. And better people aren't here. And I like you. Now please sit up so I can kiss you.

[ Low standards, sure. Midnight is past trying to judge himself for it. ]

[What is his life.]

[He does sit up, after a moment - but he doesn't sit nice and pretty and waiting for something to happen. He grabs the man by the shoulders, rough, gritting his teeth...before he sinks his head to that his forehead touches the other's shoulder. His exhaustion sinks to his bones.]

Why are you like this.

I ask myself that quite a bit, you know. No answers forthcoming, but I'll let you know if that changes.

[ Midnight laughs, gathers this tired old coot in his arms, and kisses him on the top of the head, seeing as how he seems a bit unwilling to raise it. He can wait. (No he can't, but he can pretend to be civil, and isn't that the same thing?) ]

[...]

[Midnight kisses the top of his head. He doesn't know if that makes it worse, or better. A part of him always craves warmth like this. A part of him wants to throw it away and leave it behind.]

[But he's tired. So tired. Maybe at this point he's just resigned to it.]

[He tilts his head upward, giving the man a look.]

...You don't need to make me feel better, you know.

[As if a kiss could fix anything.]

[ Midnight looks back, eyebrows raised slightly, eyes lidded. This expression is amused, somewhat disbelieving. ]

No? Well, I'll skip the formalities, then.

[ There's a hiss of breath through his teeth, he darts forward, and he lands his mouth on Vergilius's, a sigh of relief puffing through his nose. Fixing anything was not only not a priority, it was never on the list. He just wanted a kiss. Vergilius is collateral damage. ]

[Well, he saw that coming. Vergilius himself has a short intake of breath - the hand on Midnight's shoulder moves to thread through the other's hair, grasp it. It's a grip that doesn't seem sure about whether its going to yank back or keep him still.]

[Even so, he lightly opens his mouth, kisses back. As if he has some feeble hope it'll quell some of the feelings burning inside his chest.]

[It doesn't do anything.]

[He feels worse.]

Edited 2023-10-23 18:05 (UTC)

[ Good. Midnight's gone his whole life making people feel better. Give him one chance to make something worse. ]

You're very stubborn, you know... Perhaps even more stubborn than I am.

[ A satisfied, shaky little sigh. Midnight nips in reply, just teeth to his bottom lip. ]

All that talk of hurting me... Love, there's nothing left to hurt.

[ Just an implacable tower. Demon king. Fiend. ]

[Midnight pulls back, nips him, but for a moment, its as if that vivid stare has been clouded over into something blank, expressionless.]

[And as if his mind is catching up, that look suddenly twists into something cold and angry - the fingers at the man's head dig in. Yank it is.]

Are you an idiot? You are, aren't you? "Nothing left to hurt"?

[ A quiet, sharp gasp. Excited. When he opens his eyes, his pupils have dilated. His mouth is a crescent moon slash of dark, lined with sharp teeth. ]

Ah. Do that again.

[ He's shaking. He studies that frightening, scarred, sad face, the angry line of his mouth. His heart is racing. It's nice to feel nothing at all, for once. ]

[It doesn't scare him at all. He's seen worse. Midnight might be all sharp teeth and bestial black eyes, but to Vergilius, he's still a man.]

[He hisses between his teeth, shaking his head. The grip on the other's head is lessening, but the anger is just as fierce as anything.]

So what am I, then? Some rocks to dash yourself onto? Have more damn respect for yourself.

[ Midnight laughs. ]

I can't keep away from what I want, Vergilius. I'm not in the habit. And neither a rock nor a demon would tell me no.

[ His head lolls out of Vergilius's loosened grasp, still smiling like a fanged finbeast, blank and intent. ]

If you're some demon, when are you going to stop pretending you care for me, love? Do I disgust you that much, perhaps? So much that you can't tell me the truth? I don't mind, you know. You can tell me anything...

[Another shake of the head, almost disbelieving, even as the brightness of his eyes burns out of his sockets.]

[When are you going to stop pretending you care for me?]

No, that's not...

[He somehow almost prefers Midnight crushing his windpipe instead of this.]

You're wrong. [And his hand draws back to himself, fingers threading into his bangs and pulling them backward, like a nervous tic.] Please just...stop.

[ Midnight's hands join Vergilius's. He likes that expression, that nervousness. He likes Vergilius so much, uncertainty and anger, heart broken. ]

Are you afraid, then? Have I hurt you? Is there something left in there to hurt...? I don't mind hurting a demon, you know. The demons of Terra hold death sacred. But a man... I must be generous to men.

Fuck you.

[The curse comes like a reflex, like he can't help it, a jab for a jab. He's hurt (why is he hurting?), so he must hurt in return.]

[He wants to escape.]

[Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite-]

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You want me to retract my previous statement, huh?

I want a kiss. Several.

[ Midnight says this again, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world, as though no one has ever cursed him out before. Because it is that simple. It's never been more complex. ]

I don't want you to retract anything true. You've told me about yourself. I'm simply using that information in a way that benefits me. I want many things, after all. And you have what I want.

[ ... A small, sympathetic laugh. ]

You think I'm lying, don't you?

[The laugh is what does it. Salt in the wound. The pain is taken, twisted, added to the coals of the fire.]

[Where is the young man, feverish, soft? The one who told of his short history with that matter of fact look? The man that had made his heart soften, open, bleed once more?]

[He pulls back, the lines of his face more stone-like than ever.]

You want things? I see. I don't think you're lying.

[There's no warning he gives.]

[He throws a punch into Midnight's face, as blunt as his words.]

There's a big difference between what you want and what you deserve.

[ Midnight hits the wall behind him, and he starts laughing, and he laughs again, because that's what he does when something pierces through him, that indifference, that carefully constructed nothing, and finally, finally hurts.

It feels good. It feels awful. It feels like something, which is at least different from feeling nothing. (It's been so very long since he's felt something.)

He peers at Vergilius through the curtain of his hair. Grins. His face feels bruised. Finally, someone who can hurt him back. He doesn't mind being wrong at all. In many ways, it's much better than being right. ]

It's you who deserves better than me, my love. Won't you try? Please. It breaks my heart, you know...

[He stands, walks over with heavy feet, reaches down to grab him by the collar to pull him up as easy as anything.]

Don't "please" me.

[He has half a mind to punch him again, but refrains from doing so - still, the fury wafts off of him like smoke.]

[He wishes he could cry.]

Do you... [He starts, stops. He speaks again. His voice cracks, impressive for how hoarse it already is.] Do you know how much you've wormed under my skin, huh? This isn't a game. Stop acting like it. I know you're...better than that. Even if you don't believe it yourself.

[ Midnight grins, all teeth, all grief, all sharp sorrow. He hasn't cried in twenty years. It doesn't matter. Some people never cry, and who is there for them? ]

My darling, my darling, you pity me. And I don't mind that, truly I don't.

[ He takes a deep breath. The sorrow bubbles. It feels so good. Midnight continues to smile. ]

I was really... only asking for a kiss. Everything was true. It has nothing to do with what I deserve.

[ ... The smile dies. ]

I hurt you, then. More's the pity. I really was hoping...

You don't know anything about pity. Maybe I should ask you if you pity me, hm? Since you're so willing to throw just anything out there.

[He shakes his head, as if he can somehow get rid of a bothersome gnat. Why? Why did this happen? Why...is he acting like this...?]

Hoping for what? Treat me like a man. If you treat me like some damn kiss dispenser and nothing else, then what do you think I'll do? You...you know me better than that, Midnight.

[...]

I...I could've given it to you without you asking for it.

Edited 2023-10-24 02:38 (UTC)

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