citylogs | denied the light [OPEN]

And I don't want you to die. So, we've gotta meet somewhere in the middle.

[There's a pause, then slowly, selfishly, he interlocks his fingers with the other man's. The scars lining around Vergilius' hands make them rough, but he doesn't mind it. Despite the sheer strength in the man's body, Daan treats him like he'll shatter at the wrong move. The way someone would handle priceless treasure.

"The heart might as well be made of glass, for you and me."]

I don't want to be another part of your guilt, or your regrets. No more than I think you want me to carve away pieces of myself for you.

Can't we do better than that?

[Again, the question comes in his own head. Why? What has he done? Their hearts are glass. But Daan shouldn't bother with his.]

[What could be so special about him that he could receive such words?]

[The hand interlocking with his feels like that time - a mirror (ha) of that scene when his brain had been filled with thoughts that at the time seemed so wild and reckless. It was merely a spell. It was merely magic. So he thought.]

[Because what explains the thoughts now? Where is the spell, here?]

...How can we?

[Not a statement said of disbelief, but more wondering. Is it...even possible?]

[Can they do better?]

I'm not sure. I don't have that answer, but...

With you, I'd like to try to find out.

["I don't give it freely, this feeling of mine."

Which is true enough. Daan has been cautious and careful, unwilling to keep himself vulnerable. But he can afford to with Vergilius, he thinks. There have been too many times in which he's been exposed and it wasn't met with disdain or manipulation.]

...Tell me to let go, and I'll... let go. But only because it's what you want me to do.

["I don't want to, but I'd give you want you want."]

["You ARE a menace."]

You're a menace and a half.

[He won't hesitate to echo his own voice here, tilting his head. Like some steadfast barnacle, unwilling to peel himself from its chosen place.]

[His thumb makes a little circle over Daan's hand.]

One would think you'd find better specimens to be this generous with.

[Ah.

That earns a startled, tired little laugh out of him, and his hand squeezes Vergilius'.]

Okay, but you won't get rid of this menace, so what's that say about you?

[There's still the hint of dreary grief in him. Not yet gone. How could it be, after all of this? But this does feel more natural.]

I told you, Vergilius. I have a list of reasons. Even if you don't agree with it.

That I'm very bad at getting rid of menaces.

[That seems to be the truth. Even as hard as he works to try to keep people at arm's length, they come worming in like he left a door open somewhere.]

[My house is too open for soft things]

I obviously need to be meaner to you.

Heh, clearly.

[There are things he yearns for, but he won't ask. Not now, not when they're still raw and exposed and vulnerable. But... maybe this is enough, fingers curled against his.]

Gonna be more of a bully, then? What a rude bastard.

[too bad he's into it]

...I'm glad you're here, Vergilius.

[I think you like it.]

Mm.

[Is it selfish, to like holding his hand like this? Well, yes. It is.]

[But maybe he can allow himself this, just this once. A little secret for himself, before the wave of guilt buries him once more.]

[He gently smiles.]

I'm glad you're here too, Daan.

["I do."

In turn, Daan lets himself hold onto this moment, the way Vergilius smiles. It feels like a small victory.]

You'll change your mind once I start making trouble for you.

[This is enough. After all, Daan has given away his most guilty moment in his life to Vergilius, the truth of it looming over his head as he assumed it would mean he'd be hated. He wouldn't have blamed the man.]

Well. I think I'm burned out on this supposed museum, personally. You?

Bring it.

[I like it, too.]

[The tips of his ears feel a little warm - he turns to glance around them, as if the admission from above somehow makes him more vulnerable than anything it whispered before. Acchem.]

...Yes. I think we need to complain to the staff. Nobody needs to see this junk.

[Oh. That's kind of endearing, the way his ears seem to warm up, but Daan just smiles a little bit at the sight. He keeps it to himself.

Even the umbrella is keen to do so.]

Hm, I wonder if there's a suggestions box?

[There's a pause, then he steps close again, just enough to brush his cheek against Vergilius' shoulder. It's careful, just a bit of contact, but... he feels a bit lighter. Better than the dark cloud over his head earlier.]

Second time to a museum, and I gotta say, not sure if they're for me.

Need to make one if they don't. Just for the principle of it.

[It might be a light gesture, but it makes him feel like he's melting all the more, too weak, too covetous of the warmth of a human touch despite knowing better.]

[His free hand goes up, cups over the other's neck.]

Yeah? When was the first time?

Sounds like a good idea to me.

[Ah. For a moment, goosebumps prickle up his arm at the touch, but he closes his eye and just enjoys the warm hand on his skin. Whatever, he can feel guilty about this later and dwell on it.]

Mm. It was a museum in Prehevil. You can imagine how good that was for me. A lot of the ... people in there were basically doing everything they could to enjoy themselves. And the interior didn't follow the usual laws of physics. Kind of fucked up, but I'm sure that's not shocking of me to say now.

I'll write the angriest notes. You know me.

[A little exhale...of course it was fucked up. Of course.]

Let me guess. It was created by some god's whimsy?

[A helpless shrug.]

Rher's Termina festival, I guess. I assume, anyway. That cat was in there, just waiting to act as a merchant. Everyone else inside... they could speak, but they were still malformed. Acting in revelry, like it was their last days.

Well. It probably could've been worse.

That already sounds bad.

[Again. That damned cat. I can't stand that thing. It took you away from me.]

...Mm. [Yeah.] Moonscorched, again? When you say...malformed.

[Oh. Hey. What the fuck man. His face burns a little hearing that, unsure of how to process his feelings about it. It's... good though, he thinks.

"I'm sorry you met him at all."]

Yeah. Moonscorched. It affects everyone differently, so there's no way to really gauge how monstrous someone turns out.

I'm glad no one else has had to witness any of it.

[He can feel that heat against his shoulder. It only makes the warmth of his ears heighten, spreading from the tips to the edges.]

[It wasn't your fault.]

...You've probably seen enough mess like that for a lifetime. Funny how even this place feels better than where we came from sometimes, huh.

Mm. [Even the reassurance is weirdly flustering. Cool cool cool.]

I used to call this place a vacation. But a lot looks good after you don't get consistent food, bathing, or medicine after three days straight, I suppose.

Still don't care for this city, but... at least I'm not in my world.

["I never want to go back."]

[......]

[But does Daan really deserve to stay in a place like this? A place that unravels him, can still toy with him?]

[..........]

You deserve better.

["Do I?"

He purses his lips. He's trying not to think like that, but it's hard to unlearn in an instant.]

I don't have hell of a lot to compare to.

[You do.]

Neither do I. [And with a tone more exhausted:] But still, one dreams, after all.

[Urgh. Daan ducks his head and presses his face against Vergilius' shoulder for a moment.

"I believe that for you too."]

I suppose... for awhile, I thought that it was going to be as good as I could get when I married into the von Dutch household.

But after that, I've come to realize that there's a lot I haven't experienced. The fair, for example. I'd never been to one until the one here.

To dream beyond that is... not typical for me. But I'll try.

We have to try. All these moments...these dots...they can become lines of terrible hope.

[The hand on Daan's neck slides up, brushing lightly through the other man's hair.]

[He's quite soft, he thinks.]

[My sins outweigh everything, I'm afraid.]

[Oh. That's... nice. It's brief, but it's very nice, and finds himself yearning for more. When has someone ever touched him so gently?]

Ah, and here I was, thinking I've just been a realist all this time...

["You aren't just your sins. They're part of you, but that's not all you are. Not to me."]

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