[At least Clive's own relaxation comes as no small consolation to Verso. Leaning on him while he's going through the worst of things still doesn't sit well with him, but there's a twisted reassurance in the way that bearing his burdens seems to lighten Clive's own. It reasserts that it's okay to be vulnerable, it's okay to feel exposed, it's okay to not be okay, even if the problem is something relatively small and easily healed. Verso doesn't have to be the one tirelessly working to save everyone. Clive shouldn't be that person, either, of course, but that isn't what's happening here. They're both saving each other from their own damned selves. Having been in a lot of hands over the decades – both ones he's chosen and ones he's had forced upon him – Verso feels confident in believing that there are no better hands for him to be in than Clive's. And one day, he hopes to show Clive that the same is true of him. That he can shed his burdens through sharing them rather than suffocating them.
He just can't do that by denying who Clive is at his core. No matter how hard that is to come to terms with.
The crackle of the lightning is new; Verso closes his eyes at its summoning and feels how the residual chroma brings a static to Clive's arm, warm and tingling against the soothing light. Once more, the two of them disappear into a space of their own and the world shrinks until it's just them and the darkness Clive illuminates. Verso lets himself slip into the comfort of how that kind of feels like Clive's thing – casting light upon the shadows and chasing them away – and eases himself a little more into the moment, lightening up a bit in turn.]
I've got some of my own, too. Special ones. What do you think...
[He leaves the thought dangling for a moment, ending it on a slightly teasing lilt. If Clive's going to insist on being stubborn, Verso can go back to being trouble. He lifts his healthy hand to start playing with Clive's hair again, letting out a soft hum before continuing.]
... about me using them to give you a massage once my hand's taken care of?
[Another pause while the hand in Clive's hair travels a lazy course to the base of his neck to gently working at knotted muscle.]
no subject
He just can't do that by denying who Clive is at his core. No matter how hard that is to come to terms with.
The crackle of the lightning is new; Verso closes his eyes at its summoning and feels how the residual chroma brings a static to Clive's arm, warm and tingling against the soothing light. Once more, the two of them disappear into a space of their own and the world shrinks until it's just them and the darkness Clive illuminates. Verso lets himself slip into the comfort of how that kind of feels like Clive's thing – casting light upon the shadows and chasing them away – and eases himself a little more into the moment, lightening up a bit in turn.]
I've got some of my own, too. Special ones. What do you think...
[He leaves the thought dangling for a moment, ending it on a slightly teasing lilt. If Clive's going to insist on being stubborn, Verso can go back to being trouble. He lifts his healthy hand to start playing with Clive's hair again, letting out a soft hum before continuing.]
... about me using them to give you a massage once my hand's taken care of?
[Another pause while the hand in Clive's hair travels a lazy course to the base of his neck to gently working at knotted muscle.]
Seems to me it's only fair. Right?