[If only it could die for good. The more he resists, the more Lobelia hooks himself in, delighted for the denial. It's like the jaws of a dog who only clamps down further when one struggles under its bite. To get Lobelia to even consider releasing is to become akin to a lifeless doll and let things bat him around to their enjoyment. But that would be like tearing out his own soul. He cannot be broken. His conviction is something that only gets stronger the more cruelty life throws at him.]
[His own defiant being is its own downfall, in the end. The parasite has latched onto him. Right now, he cannot find freedom from it.]
[He falls with a grunt and a pained groan, reacting with a low noise of distaste when the other bends in to steal a kiss.]
...I do. [He finally says, quiet - the lines of his sunken face seem deeper now, more stern, in the shadow Lobelia makes over him.] But haven't you heard of doing something nice for other people, before?
no subject
[His own defiant being is its own downfall, in the end. The parasite has latched onto him. Right now, he cannot find freedom from it.]
[He falls with a grunt and a pained groan, reacting with a low noise of distaste when the other bends in to steal a kiss.]
...I do. [He finally says, quiet - the lines of his sunken face seem deeper now, more stern, in the shadow Lobelia makes over him.] But haven't you heard of doing something nice for other people, before?