citylogs | denied the light [OPEN]

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."]

Doesn't mean you can't hope.

[He's killed more than he can count. Why is it so easy for these bloodstained hands to hold and carress someone without harming them? Is it possible for someone like him?]

[The last time he held anyone as gentle as this were children who didn't know better.]

[I wish it was easy. I wish your belief could wash everything away. I wish I could be better for you.]

That goes for you too, you know.

[Daan closes his eye and quietly concentrates on his position. The warm weight on the back of his neck and in his hand, resting just very slightly against his shoulder.

"No, I can't wash it away, but it's not just what you are. I just want you to be the way you've been for me."

His eye opens.]

Vergilius...

["I'm grateful for you--"]

For making sure I was okay. ...You looked after me in the mall, even if you were a dick about it. You still did it. And when I announced I wasn't seeing patients for a month, you barged in anyway so I could keep my head together. You went after that cat for me. You...

[His voice trembles.]

Even when you were dying, you told me to live. You're a bastard, but you always... made sure I was taken care of, somehow.

I can never wash away the blood on your hands. I won't pretend like I can. But it also isn't that simple.

...

[Why did he go so far for this man?]

[He knows better. The City has whispered it to him with every dead body at his feet. There's no such thing as true salvation. But still, his heart craved light. Or was it simply craving repentance? To save a soul, to make himself feel better, when he's already destroyed so many?]

[Was he saving Daan for himself, or because it was Daan?]

[He doesn't know. It feels like turmoil raging in his chest, unable to be quelled.]

...I'm worried it was selfish of me. [His own voice is so, so quiet.] Would you hate me if it was selfish?

[Did I see myself in you? But that wouldn't make sense. I don't know.]

[A quiet, breathless laugh escapes Daan. He pulls back just enough so he can look up at Vergilius properly now.]

We're humans. Selfishness is gonna happen. ...Just like it was selfish of me to try to bring you back. I'd be a damned fool if I thought it was all benevolence.

But I also... think that you wouldn't waste your time if you thought it was pointless. That would track for you. After all, why else would you have gotten so pissed when I took off an arm for you? How could that be selfish?

["And I feel a sense of pride in knowing I can make you smile, even a little."]

Whatever your reasoning is, well... that's for you to know. But for me, it means everything.

[It's true. His temper is short, his time is shorter. To waste it would be an irritation beyond belief. But here, he wastes time in abundance. He wants to.]

[He doesn't have words for the moment. Instead, his hand at Daan's neck drifts around to cup over the side of his face. Just to hold him there. As if to take it in. Witness it. Hold it in his eyes.]

[You're a lighthouse on the edge of the water. My soul, lost at sea.]

...It means everything. How? Has no one thought the same for you as you have for me?

[There's a pause, then he raises his free hand to place over the one on his cheek, just to rest slightly. This... kind of contact, Elise never really did. So even something like this feels new, making his heart beat harder, and content to bask in the warmth of it. He leans his head slightly against Vergilius' palm. It's rough, like much of the man, but no less a comforting touch.]

I think my relationship with you is very different than, say, the one I have with Miu or Heine.

[The wryness is there briefly, but he shifts into sincerity.]

...You understand me differently than others, I think. Maybe it's your experiences, or because you know more about me than pretty much everyone else now.

Do I...?

[But again, why?]

[Why? Why? Why...?]

[Why me?]

[To what do I owe this trust?]

Mm. [Daan's cheek seems like it nestles just right in his hand, molded to it. His thumb makes a lazy circle.] You really don't think I'd ever hurt you.

You do.

["I'll repeat myself if I have to, you know."

Daan closes his eye, a faint frowning forming at the idea. That Vergilius would never hurt him? That's--]

That's complicated, isn't it?

["People hurt each other all the time. I'm used to it. That's just what the world does. What the world convinces people to do."

He grimaces at his own thoughts spoken out loud and sighs. Daan would much rather think about the hand on his face and the thumb stroking his skin. That's a fucked up way of thinking, isn't it? Just because he's used to it, there is a part of him that just expects it. Because that's all the world has ever done.]

I think that... you don't do things without a purpose. You aren't cruel for the sake of it. And I don't mind lowering my guard around you.

You would prefer to not hurt me. I think that part is at least true. Otherwise you would have probably just killed Pocketcat, or tried to.

...

[His thoughts are betrayed by the umbrella before, as if coming out as a lament.]

[When he said that, I knew I couldn't do a thing. He said hurting him would hurt you. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't do anything. My heart hesitated. It was unbearable. It was unbearable more than anything...]

[Ah. And here he was ready to deliver a spiel of "of course I'm cruel, of course, I'll kill you if I have to, it would be easy, I've done it before, believe me..."]

[...]

[He closes his eyes, a little pained.]

Don't...say that you expect hurt. I don't...want to hear that.

Oh...

[Daan hates the sound of his voice right now, the way it trembles briefly. Shit. Shit.

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. The hand holding onto Vergilius' squeezes, and he keeps his face pressing into the other palm.]

Who knew you'd be so protective, huh?

["These hands have seen their fair share of violence, but they touch me so carefully."]

[...]

[Something, like a string, seems to snap at that. Protective.]

[But that's not true. That can't be true. All those children. His Office. Garnet. And Lapis, now Charon.]

[But I failed. I failed, didn't I? I did nothing. All those children. People I knew. Daan. Yes, him.]

[His hand starts to loosen its grip on Daan's face even with the hand on it - it trembles, like a fretful bird.]

[I couldn't protect anything, and I may never be able to.]

I-I'm sorry.

Edited 2023-11-05 04:24 (UTC)

[Children. But then, Vergilius explained he knew a child, that he had to ... put them down, to phrase it kindly. There were more? More, and Vergilius couldn't protect them, for some reason.]

You don't have anything to apologize for to me.

[He takes the trembling hand into his own. Not to force the hand to stay, but to give it stability with his own careful, steady hands.]

Would you tell me what happened? You don't have to. But I'm the last guy who's gonna judge you.

[I have to. I have to apologize. I can't...I can't save you. I'll let you down.]

[He cringes at his own voice. Daan asks him for what happened. He hasn't told a living soul what happened. He kept it like many of his other scars, etched into him but never explained.]

[But here, those flowers might tell the tale before him. And Daan...well, Daan has already revealed that horrible truth to him. Would it be right to keep his hidden away? As if Daan means nothing? As if what he said means nothing?]

[The hand manages to still in that solid grip, but he's not meeting Daan's eyes. The words fall out of his mouth in a ramble, like he's ripping off the bandaid before he regrets it.]

Some of the people I killed had children left behind. I found several of them, created an orphanage. I filled it up over the years. Hired help. Visited as often as I could. None of them knew the truth.

[A rattling sigh.]

One day, another Fixer, Iori, brought a monster over. It...killed many of the children. I fought her. But I failed. I left it all behind. I left the rest behind. Because I couldn't bear to see them hurt because of me. Because I felt too guilty. But...

[A wet swallow - his heart feels like he consumed a thousand needles.]

The children were captured. Used by a man to experiment a sort of...refraction. Replacement across universes, timelines. But the majority of them couldn't stand it. Turned into monsters. Only one survived, but she's...no longer herself. She's lost. So...I failed them.

[In the end, he couldn't save anyone.]

[How could he assume he'd ever protect someone like Daan?]

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cw: child death and experimentation references