Last Resort Mods ๐ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
killerwaves) wrote2023-03-03 10:06 pm
killerwaves) wrote2023-03-03 10:06 pm
.GRAVEYARD
[๐ต]
There is a moment of silence. That is all there is, following the end one meets, but it is wrong to say that nothing else proceeds afterward. Indeed, upon the deceased opening their eyes, there's a feeling like settling into a body that has not yet crossed over, and an undeniable bright scene in front of them.
Is it heaven? Is it purgatory? These are the questions that may unfurl when faced with a bright, vibrant sky with pleasant colors, and soft clouds. Alongside this pleasing sight are picturesque rivers, running around fields of flowers mixed with lively greenery that seems to extend to distances behind one's comprehension. But, make no mistakeโthere are large trees dotted here or there, where someone might feel compelled to lie under given how welcoming they look.
Perhaps most striking, however, is the floating tower, that seems currently unreachable no matter how close anyone nears it. Does it need to be blocked off with an invisible shield? Honestly, no. But nobody knows that, and maybe no one will figure it out either, despite how many times they will ask who frequents it...who so happens to be standing outside of it, but also nearby. Huh.
Who's that? Well, that'sโ
Merlin, Mage of Flowers
๐ฎ
What a shock, isn't it? To see someone like Merlin so soon. Yet, he hardly seems perturbed, as he says, "Oh, so you've come! What a terrible fate you've been met with. But, don't worry, there's plenty of things to keep you occupied with.
What do I mean by that, you ask? I mean yourselves, of course! And, yes, by the way, you're still dead. So sorry about that. If you need anything, though, just call my name and I'll be there."
Beat. "Probably."
Then he disappears helpfully in a flurry of petals, not even saying where this is. Wow, helpful, isn't he? But, you have more than enough time to explore, at least. And hey, where did that random shack come from far off in the distance? If one goes in, they'll find a random bookcase inside, filled to the brim with fairytales that automatically replenishes if all books have been read with new ones. In addition, there's a random 'fan magazine' of the super popular idol MagiโMari; a beautiful white-haired young woman with purple eyes. Huh, why does she look familiar?
...Anyway, at least this will all keep one occupied.
As a side note, off to the distance are a a massive gathering of trees, but whenever one tries to approach them they can't seem to actually get close. How obnoxious! Looks like you'll have to just continue to admire your surroundings of pink flowers, one or two solitary trees, rivers, and other flora for miles on end.
As of 'Week 3', there is now an additional, cutesy shed in the Garden of Avalon that can be accessed for arts and crafts materials. Sewing kits, canvasses, painting materials, paper, you name it! There also is a shelf full of lube as well, for your needs. They will have a hint of a flower scent.
As of 'Week 4', the forest is glowing and can at some point be entered for funtimes.
By 'Final Week', there is a small little cottage of some sort that has appeared, which is ridiculously more spacious once walked into. It appears to be like a little free-for-all clothing store, except everything is free of charge. The styles range from cutesy pink, stylish, fancy, and to even towards the gothic side of things...but also there is a spot filled with make-up and the like! Do you want to look pretty in death? No worries, you too can shine here as well with beauty products found along the shelves, and of course mirrors alongside changing rooms for your convenience.
There are also knitting tools, for those wanting to really step up their skills.
Additionally, in this large 'cottage', there are private changing rooms with mirrors and a plush long seat to sit down if you want to for whatever reason. The doors lock once someone is inside and the door is closed.
Lastly, for those feeling 'adventurous', they would also happen to find costumes. Sexy ones, likes nurses, maids, and the like, but also silly 'scary' ones like a t-rex and a sheet ghost.
The forest has also stopped glowing, and upon entering it give you view to a beautiful lake surrounded by trees (sans mist.) The sky is still a fantastical color, and taking a soak at any time is possible.
However, on the other side of the forest, is a field of beautiful blue flowers, and a perpetually midnight sky.
cw violence, nsfwish................... it's all crystal's fault
What's more, the familiar feeling of having his ribs pulverized and crushed calls him back to that moment of intimacy they indulged in together, how special it was to writhe in agony while being held by his special person.
This time, the agony burns all the hotter, all the air forced from his lungs as he's knocked to his knees. He doesn't rasp for air so much as he moans, looking up at Vergilius with that damp-eyed, loving gaze of his, sputtering out blood as vivid and red as those burning eyes.]
H-ehโ ehehโ! Know some restraint... Mon amour.
[Mon amour. Je t'aime. Do you hate it, Vergilius? He'll say it over and over again until you can't stand the sound of it.]
you're playing lobelia i am playing an innocent old man
[He stares down at this lovesick man, mind driven to insanity from lust and violence and obsessesion. How easy to pin it all on Lobelia, though-! As if he had no role to play in this! Man is the maker of his own sins, after all. Lobelia is a living breathing incarnation of that, like a boa constrictor more than happy to bind him and crush him slowly under the weight of his coils.]
[His chest heaving, he slides his unbloodied hand through his own hair, an agitated expression.]
...If you really love me, leave me alone.
[Restraint. Pull the reins back. Fire to ice. His eyes prick with a sort of dull pain as he turns, heart racing, to walk away from this. He knows its futile.]
[But the more he stays in the other's presence, the more it feels like a magnet threatening to pull them together until oblivion.]
no subject
Now, it's far too late to swivel on his heel and walk away like escape is a reasonable expectation. It isn't, and Lobelia's hand snaps around his heel to remind him of that fact, those relentless vibrations humming under the man's skin until he can be felled, pulled beneath Lobelia's frame.
It's always Vergilius who finds himself locked in this cage of limbs, isn't it? It's always Vergilius who walks right into prisons of his own design, blood left to cool and dry on his lips when Lobelia bends to kiss him.]
Je ne pense pas. That's not how love works, Vergilius! You would know that better than I, non?
[No, love does not leave you alone. Love follows after you until that love dies for good.]
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?
no subject
You boring old man. It's sheer petulance that has Lobelia easing up and away to sit someplace beside him, the vibrations ebbing away to nothing. All this hard work, all the love and effort he's poured into their "relationship", and for what? Through the pain, Lobelia audibly huffs.]
You truly are unreasonable. Everything I've done in these last few days has been for your sake, but you don't seem to recognize that. C'est dommage!
[But see? He's leaving Vergilius alone, more or less. Isn't that worth recognizing?]
Go on, then. Don't let me keep you against your will.
no subject
[If anyone, one of the things they have in common (as loathe as Vergilius is to admit) is their ability to be pettish about so many things. He hears that huff from the other's lips, a sound so often heard from his own.]
[He answers with another low groan of his own. Instead of standing up and leaving, though, he rolls over on his side to face away from the man, glancing over the endless horizon of flowers. As much as walking forward forever sounds appealing, this is just as much of a useless effort as when he was stuck in that bloody monstrous world of the Tower.]
[He folds his hands, mouth twisted into a peeved expression.]
It wasn't like you could've predicted this. [He could leave, but it seems he needs to argue First.] You only thought about yourself first and foremost. At least have the decency not to be a liar, Lobelia.
no subject
Such audacity, accusing me of lying! What part of my explanation do you not believe?
[Some actual, genuine frustration manages to seep into Lobelia's tone. He's been nothing if not honest about his intentions here, so why shouldn't he be mad?]
no subject
[He almost feels a headache coming on.]
Doing it for my sake, first off. What would I have gotten out of this? You thought I would be just as idiotically glad about it as you?
no subject
Had he really been the one to make the mistake here? Lobelia, Lobelia, Lobelia. He still remembers the way his name rang like a mantra off Vergilius' tongue, back then. What happened to that Vergilius, he wonders?]
You've been freed from your shackles! Released from that island that held you captive! Should you not be just as pleased as myself?
[And sure, they're trapped in yet another place against their will, but what does that matter? Vergilius should simply be happy that such efforts were expended for his sake.]
Ah, but I knew you were a hypocrite, Vergilius. What I hadn't realized is how dรฉraisonnable you are on top of that.
no subject
[No, if there is a real afterlife, that's where he's cold and alone, he's decided. He cannot believe in a fake garden of flowers constructed by another. His soul doesn't belong here. After his hope has been realized, it should be sent to a place where he will forever live out his own sins and repentance on his own.]
[He makes a low noise at the statement, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. Yes, there was a Vergilius that cried out his name, over and over. But maybe that was a mistake. He's been making a lot of them.]
If you really knew me, you would know this isn't what I wanted. There's no freedom here. Not even for you, I suppose. [He curls up a little more, heart aching again...ah, what a terrible thing.] So much for your love.
no subject
It's a cruel twist of fate, truly, and it only serves to further anger Lobelia. So unwilling is he to feel sorrow, regret, that he would rather lapse into frustration, tossing his head back to exclaim his woes.]
Oh lร lร ! J'ai perdu mon temps. Il ne m'aime pas. C'รฉtait pour quoi tout รงa? J'aimerais รชtre vraiment mort. Je prรฉfรจre รชtre mort que d'avoir ร nouveau le cลur brisรฉ!
no subject
[He is turning, finally. Rolling over to his other side to shoot a very unimpressed glare at the other.]
What the hell are you saying?
no subject
What does it matter to you? You don't care. Leave me to my mutterings, dรฉmon de la tomate.
no subject
[Really? Really.]
[Now he's the one to stare into Lobelia's back.]
You sound like a kid about to throw a tantrum.
no subject
[Joke's on you, Verg. He's already throwing that tantrum.]
no subject
[Probably good that he doesn't!]
[Now he's letting out an exasperated sigh.]
You killed me, Lobelia. I'm not you. Not everyone is going to get off on something like that, you idiot.
no subject
He's silent for a while, eyes closed against the petals that brush his face, breaths irregular and labored. If he died once more, would he be free of Vergilius' pain? He wants to cherish it, yet even that has been taken from him now.]
Je suis dรฉsolรฉ.
[Wow. An apology?? Vergilius has heard this tired resignation in his voice before, when he was prepared to accept that happiness would never come for him. If he needed an indication that Lobelia wasn't lying about his feelings, let it be this: a compromise. A genuine apology.]
Only you know what's best for you, non? Your life was never mine to take. Of course, I had been thinking only of what would make me happy and hoping you would feel the same. Admonish me if you will, but my actions can't be taken back.
no subject
[Of course those actions can't be taken back. Both of them made decisions that found them on this path from the beginning. The circumstances were outside their control, but what happened afterward was their fault, and their fault alone. As much as he hates Lobelia, and hates everything he is with that twisted nature, he knows he's as much to blame as anything. He could have left well enough alone. And yet Lobelia was like a scab he kept returning to pick and pick until it bled.]
[Everyone he interacts with is affected in some way, he thinks. He must be one hell of a blood stain one can't get out. It's why he did his damnednest to force people away. That's the classic lesson of a Fixer. Cut bonds. Move on. And here, he pulled Lobelia into his orbit, thinking it didn't matter because it was about proving something to him and himself. Maybe it was more than that.]
[The tiredness of his voice makes him silent for a long moment, eyebrows twitching together, unsure how to feel.]
["I'm sorry", huh.]
[.....Lobelia is different now, isn't he?]
...We'll find a way out of this mess. [He finally says, voice low. Whether the "we'll" is accidental, intentional, casually referred...hard to say.] As long as I still draw breath, even here, that's the flow I'll follow.
no subject
He had thought, surely, that death would be just as rewarding for Vergilius, but Lobelia thought wrong. He gets that now. As stubborn as he is, insisting upon always being right, he's acknowledged that too. The idea of withholding that apology only to further hurt Vergilius has lost its savor, and why that is, Lobelia has yet to determine.
So much for being a genius, he thinks, but he doesn't bother Vergilius with his internal monologue. For what little he can make sense of his own ever-complicating feelings, it would be a waste of breath to speak them aloud and hope Vergilius can make sense of any of it.
Still... What's this about we? It's brief, but Lobelia looks back over his shoulder at Vergilius, surprised. Yes, that could have very well been a slip of the tongue, so Lobelia treats it as such. Of course, somewhere in the depths of his heart, he wants to believe it was intentional.]
Understood. You'll do as you please, hm?
[I've always liked that about you. In his newfound efforts not to hurt Vergilius when nothing can be gained from it, Lobelia keeps that thought to himself.]
But I don't intend to lay about uselessly while you toil. If you would do me a faveur, I can be of much greater use to you. I think you'll find it agreeable.
no subject
[He's moving on from the "we", not acknowledging it. Perhaps he never will. Emotions are indeed something not nicely laid out on a table to examine, but a gnarled barbed wire mess. He's circled it, of course, indulging in ever deeper layers of guilt and regret and sorrow amongst the ever-persistent anger, but never has gone deeper into the woods, so to say.]
[Ironic for a guide, he thinks.]
[He glances over with a flit of vibrant red eyes, before closing them. Another sigh. It would be nice to fall asleep here, he thinks, among the flowers. But he can never let himself do that. Not when his heart still beats.]
[Perhaps that's the same for Lobelia, too, on his new-found path. Whatever that path seems to be.]
And what is it you propose, exactly?
no subject
Hissing pain through his teeth, Lobelia rolls onto his back, gazing sidelong at Vergilius. There's no delight in his inquiry, just a quiet plea, humble and earnest. He needs nothing more from Vergilius now than what he knows best, and so, plainly spokenโ]
Kill me. I can't be of much use to you if I'm shambling along in your shadow.
[It seems the easiest way to "heal" in this place is to wipe the slate clean and start all over again. Vergilius has no problem granting such a simple request, does he? It's no different than swatting a fly, Lobelia thinks.]
no subject
[Well, that's a request, alright. Of course, he really still has half a mind to just stand up, walk away, and let the man heal from his broken ribs the old fashioned away. He'd deserve that. For all the pain he dealt, the torment, now here with a true, honest consequence. There's no healers to heal. Maybe Merlin would give him mercy.]
[(Of course, he doesn't know about what happened in trial, or how he died, on and on, over and over again like a macabre loop of film doomed to repeat itself. He assumes it was from an execution like before. Something to find out after some time, perhaps.)]
[...But after a moment, he moves to sit up, shifting over so that he can reach down to cradle the other with rough hands around the back of his neck, lifting him up. He's not doing anything yet, just staring down with vibrant lights through dark, messy bangs.]
Wanting to die to bypass the long healing from suffering. You really are one messed up soul, Lobelia.
[It's not even accusatory. It's almost like a quiet observation.]
no subject
That uncomfortable, leaden lump settles in his throat again when Vergilius' hands cradle the back of his neck. He isn't sad, isn't angry, and he isn't happy either, but he will be soon. I'll be happy, that happiness already granted to him through countless cycles of death, no longer something he needs to claw out of Vergilius to get a mere taste of.
Ah, but speaking of countless deaths.]
Heh! You're not wrong, but dying by your hand might soothe me some. It's a fair trade, isn't it? Still... before arriving here, I experienced death countless times over. First was Papa's death, and then Maman's, and then so many others whose names and faces I've forgotten.
Those oiseaux maudits robbed me of my suffering, but had the choice been left up to me, I would have died every death I've ever caused. That would have only been fair, non? More importantly, it would've made me happy.
no subject
[He stares with eyes narrowed. How? How did he experience countless deaths? Lobelia is terrible, sure, but did the hosts of that terrible ordeal really hate him enough to make him go through that in vein of an execution?]
[His fingers flex, slightly, not yet ready to move. He would move on with giving Lobelia death on a silver platter, but this is something he needs explanation for.]
How?
no subject
You remember our old friend The Tower, don't you? It came to me to form a pact, granting me the strength needed to topple entire cities in an instant... but that power came with a prix.
Should The Tower's pactbearer fail to destroy their target even once, every ounce of destruction they've wrought will be dealt back to them. If the pactbearer dies halfway through the ordeal, they'll be brought back as many times as it takes to repay their sins in full.
[Lobelia isn't the least bit reluctant to speak about the ordeal he'd gone through, which is telling in its own way. He died without regret over and over again, enjoying every second of it.]
It was in those deaths that I found the true form of my happiness! Ah, but then our gracious hosts refused to let The Tower perform its duties, destroying it after a time. We hadn't even gotten to the best part before they reduced the poor thing to rubble.
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: death
(no subject)