[They are having a moment. It is a sweet moment. Soft. Gentle. Love is supposed to be at its core; love is supposed to be all it's about. Verso knows all of these things. He embraces them. And yet when Clive mentions the carousel, Verso cannot help himself. Those kisses to Clive's fingers become a singular bite to a singular knuckle, his thumb running over the reddened skin afterwards as he lets the intrusive thoughts win.]
Mm, I'd rather ride you.
[Definitely not in the snow, though, or in the wide open where anyone could theoretically stumble upon them, even if the chances of that are astronomically low, so in that context the carousel does come out on top. But it's all the way over there, and Clive is right here, touching him and kissing him and...
Bringing up Monoco.
Verso laughs, then relinquishes his hold on Clive's hand and leans slightly away. It's actually a very good point, though; Verso hasn't really put much thought into how he'll introduce Clive to Monoco, or how Monoco might respond, and now that he's flipping through the potential scenarios in his mind, well, he's not sure he's ready for the inevitable ribbing he'll be subjected to when he introduces him to his lover, fire incarnate. So, he pre-empts it instead, stroking Clive's hair into place as he speaks.]
Monoco? Don't worry about him. There's, uh, something else he'll be much more interested in.
[Gotta maintain those airs of mystery. If Monoco is present at the station then there is no doubt in Verso's mind that he'll find one way or another to encourage Clive into a duel, and Verso would be lying if he said he didn't want to see that, so, sorry, Clive, but this secret is remaining unspoken until Monoco sees fit to introduce himself. Those are thoughts for a slightly later time, however; Clive speaks love with his lips and tongue and murmurs, and Verso is helpless against the distraction, humming into the kiss and moving his hand over Clive's chest so that he can attune himself to the rhythm of his heartbeat and what it says about his feelings, too.
One more burst of starlight delivered on the tip of his tongue before he rises to his feet and once again holds out his hands for Clive to take in joining him.]
All right. You've done an awful job of convincing me, but... Let's get going.
[ Oh, well, thanks for that intrusive thought. Clive chokes on it (as gracefully as he can) for a record-scratch moment, imagining Verso on his lap with his fingers tangled in Clive's hair, murmuring good boy the way he did last night (that definitely awakened something inside of him, good god); it's good that they move right on along to the topic of Monoco and inevitably the de-tangling of their bodies, given that he still remembers the intoxicating high of being flooded with silver.
One last hit of beloved starlight, and they're back on their feet. Verso feels much closer when they link hands again, and while Clive will never deny the other man the time and space that he needs when considering the fraught nature of his past, it feels heartening to pick up at a brisker, more hopeful pace. 'Get over it' is not an option for either of them, but they can learn how to hold that knife in their chests without twisting the wound open, at least. ]
Alright. ―And I'll do my utmost not to interrupt a reunion between friends.
[ Even if Clive is still reeling a bit from I love you. Being on his best behavior with this ringing in his ears might be difficult, but he'll make himself sparse if Verso wants a bit of space while he catches up with someone he supposedly hasn't seen in a bit (time is a wobbly concept for Verso, Clive knows).
And if his stupid infatuation keeps running hot through his veins, well. Clive has two hands. He'll make do somewhere, and hope that he doesn't make a terrible first impression. Not the most elegant thing to consider as they make their way to the giant structure emerging in the horizon― a gaping maw that looks to be a station of sorts with broken tracks running crooked and sideways towards it― but a thought that Clive has, nevertheless.
Smitten. It's the only way Clive can justify how he keeps flicking his gaze to the side, catching Verso's face in profile, just looking at him occasionally as they walk. Not the kind of staring that implies that he's afraid Verso will leave or disappear if he stops being vigilant, but a self-indulgent sort that says that he really, really, really just likes the shape of him. ]
[There's something uniquely enticing about how Clive keeps glancing his way; Verso catches him out of the corner of his eye a few times but pretends not to notice, worried that his attention might be easily spooked. It feels good to be wanted in indulgent ways, and better still knowing that Clive knows some of the worst of him and still doesn't struggle to seek out more of the best. Really, genuinely, truly he does not deserve this, he doesn't deserve him, but Clive has made a choice that he keeps making, and Verso won't take that for granted.
At least not while everything still feels warm and hopeful and the haunting impossibility of his own death is, for once, far from the forefront of his thoughts.
So, they continue on like this, hand in hand, cold filtering through the warmth that Clive had infused in Verso but never taking root. Soon, the flames from within the station flicker into sight, gold and orange against the blue-shadowed snow, and the tracks make way for broken-up trains hanging in the air at odd angles. A Grandis watches from atop the stairs leading towards the station, a silent sentinel guarding what remains of his kind.]
Well, here we are.
[There is no sign of Monoco, but there never is this early on. After a quick glance up into the rafters doesn't provide any hints as to whether he's around, either, Verso shrugs and looks over to Clive.]
Oh, and fair warning: you should beware of falling Gestrals.
[Assuming that Monoco is even here to begin with; he could just as easily be elsewhere, accompanying Noco on some mission or another, perhaps, or going on adventures of his own. Again, there's no real fun in saying that, and Clive's reflexes are sharp, so Verso sidles further inside, completely oblivious to what actually awaits them on the other side of the arched entrance as he dramatically gestures Clive ahead.]
[ In love with 1 (one) man, but also suspicious of 1 (one) man. The haunting beauty of the station with its aurora-like lights and its hanging trains is slightly undercut by that warning (falling Gestrals???), and Clive telegraphs his light skepticism before obliging Verso's theatrical push to go on ahead with a dry merci.
(Far too trusting: he does keep his eyes up towards the ceiling, despite the fact that the threat might actually come at him from anywhere else.)
Fortunately― or unfortunately, depending on perspective― there's no ambush. Just a nod from the Grandis standing vigil (Clive assumes that it recognizes Verso, and therefore they both get a pass), and more ice and twisted metal and orphaned compartments arching over snowy walkways in the grand, sprawling beyond. There are a few more scattered creatures huddled in and around broken trains who look at Clive and murmur something under their breaths; he thinks he hears the tail end of one of their bemused whispers, and it sounds an awful lot like "another Expeditioner?" ]
―Your friend may not be home, [ Clive offers to Verso, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. Instead of the expected, familiar outline of the other man, however, there's yet another rotund Grandis, who has stepped out from behind the shadow of a collapsed pillar to approach Clive with its masked, mouthless face.
"If it's Monoco you seek," it says, its voice like warm gravel. "He went on an errand a few days back, and has yet to return."
Spoken with gentle conviction that 'return' is what Monoco will be doing. The whole thing takes Clive slightly off-guard, but he feels no compulsion to draw his sword against a creature that obviously means him no harm.
He opens his mouth to say something in affirmation― "I see, thank you"― but the Grandis continues before he can get a word in edgewise.
"Or if it's Joshua you seek," is the bombshell addendum, "he went to Frozen Hearts, though I warned him of the danger."
Joshua. Joshua. Clive, who now both looks and feels like he's had a bucket of ice water upturned on his head, stands there and tries, tries, to let that statement sink in.
Finally, he manages a strained: ] ―Joshua? A young man of my height, with golden hair and a kind demeanor?
[ The Grandis nods sagely. "Yes. Joshua."
Clive feels his knees give out; he slumps onto the snow, trying to understand.
[While the Grandis speaks with Clive, Verso steps aside to cast a suspicious glance upwards, just in case the Grandis are suddenly in cahoots with Monoco and his ambushes. There remains nothing above their heads besides the lingering effects of the Fracture, though, shards and scars, a deliberate ugliness cast upon what had once been a beautiful world. Little by little, Verso feels himself slip into reminiscence, trying to see if he can still remember how this place once looked when it was whole and full of trains and people. Leaving Clive to speak with the Grandis is an easy choice because he expected their conversation to carry little consequence and to end with gratitude and maybe some idle chatter.
But there isn't a single word that he can bring to mind that's less idle and of more consequence than Joshua.
Verso's back at Clive's side as soon as he can make it there, though not soon enough to catch him before he falls to the ground. That distance, too, is soon cleared with Verso kneeling before him, hands on his shoulders, head angled to get a better view of his face and, perhaps, a better understanding of what his mental state might be, even knowing that it'll most likely be obfuscated by shock.
When the silence drags on, Verso gives his shoulders a squeeze and takes his place in the conversation.]
How long ago did he leave?
[The Grandis hums, contemplative, then offers, "A short while after Monoco." Which is a small measure of relief for Verso, at least; it means that Joshua hasn't been gone for worryingly long, that Monoco's errand didn't involve chasing after an Expeditioner errant who was supposed to have returned. Small blessings, he thinks, even as he grapples with the possibility that this isn't the good news that it might seem to be on the surface.]
Did he say why he was headed out there?
["No, for I didn't ask." There's an edge of apology to its voice, a lilt of regret that remains unspoken. "Their time is already so short. I never wish to claim it for myself."
A sigh, but at least it's a start. Verso offers a quick thanks to the Grandis before grounding his focus back in Clive.]
[ A dazed nod, when Verso approaches him with the offer to go sit. The world is a blur around him, frost and fractures and the reality that Joshua is alive, and the understanding of that is just as paradigm-shifting as the night he found out that he was Ifrit. Possibly more, even, considering the enormity of Joshua's presence (and non-presence) in Clive's life.
It should be impossible. Clive remembers－ what does he remember? Fire and panic and screaming, screaming, so much screaming. He tries to pick at the fragments of that night, tries to slot Joshua into that chaos, and can't find him; maybe he'd closed his eyes to it all as it was happening, too stunned by how unfathomable it all was to place his brother in the middle of that nightmare.
Faltering steps take him to the suggested fire. When he sits, it's heavily; when he shakes his head, it's with raw disbelief. ]
He's alive, [ is the only thing he can think of to say, after a protracted silence. ] My brother－ he still lives.
[ The revelation undoes him. His heart's been through a lot today－ death and love and survival－ and Clive laughs about it, eyes wet and brows downturned, happy, so fucking happy that he doesn't know what to do about all of this.
He shudders, sighs, and reaches for Verso's hand to steady himself. Wanting to make sure any of this is real at all, that he won't suddenly jerk awake on top of that pile of corpses again, steaming and shattered. ]
He's alive.
[ Again, as he glances towards Verso with the sort of desperation that says that he wants this to be true, that he wants this affirmed, lest he break again. He's not sure if he can endure losing Joshua a second time. ]
[It would be cruel, Verso thinks, to speak the thoughts that first come to mind. The realities of this world and the powers that perpetuate its desecration of life can be soulless in their own approaches – and his deepest fears assert, again, that there is nothing beneath them, particularly when it comes to exacting whatever plans they're acting upon on any given day – but they aren't always. Sometimes, good things happen. The fact that he and Clive found each other is proof enough of that. And so Verso casts all his worries aside as best he can, vowing instead to rain hell down on everything that means anything to the Dessendres should this prove to be their doing.
Besides, Clive is strong enough to hope and lose hope, even if the desperation across his face carries his own fears to the contrary. Lacing his claimed fingers with Clive's, he runs the thumb of his other hand beneath his eyes, guiding away any tears that have fallen, helping free those that haven't yet.]
Yeah. And not too far from here.
[Assuming he hasn't left Frozen Hearts to continue on whatever journey he's embarked upon, but that thought doesn't need to be put out into the world, either. Especially when any distance must surely feel like too much distance, minutes stretching into hours, into days, into weeks.
Idly, he thinks about the scarf they'd found in the Forgotten Battlefield and he wonders if it meant something. Come find me in the mountains, perhaps. Take care not to catch a cold, brother. He's never met Joshua, but he can picture a vague-faced, golden-haired man with winter-rosed cheeks and a familiar smile, embracing his brother with... No. The thought stops there. Verso doesn't know Joshua. He can't begin to try and predict what he might feel or how he might respond. So, he stops trying to get ahead of things. It isn't place.]
What are you thinking?
[A question with specific intentions, yet asked generally in case Clive's mind hasn't caught up to Verso's. They're on Clive's time, now; he will occupy it however long and to whatever extents Clive needs him to.]
[ Clive's turn to nestle, now. There's been a lot of this today, but Clive hardly cares or minds the nature of their affection-laced bond, and sees no reason to feel any sort of shame in receiving comfort from Verso's steady presence next to his. Their lives are far too short and irregular to regret the things they didn't say or haven't done.
His forehead rests against Verso's jaw. Close enough to feel the other man's warm breath moving the ends of his unruly hair. Clive's guiding light in the tumult of this upending, too-good-to-be-true news. The same, patient presence that'd endured weeks of Clive's stilted attempts at becoming human again.
When asked what he's thinking: ]
That I'd like to kiss you.
[ Not even a line. Sincerity, like the blunt end of a cudgel. Clive loves Verso far too much for Verso's own good. Tears cooling on his face, he squeezes Verso's hand again, trying to reorient himself back into this new reality, this new timeline where Joshua isn't dead and where there is still a possibility that his brother can be found. ]
―And that I need to go to him. Joshua. [ There's an assumption here, that of anyone that Clive has ever met, Verso would understand what it means to be bound to a sibling the way Clive is. He remembers Alicia sitting next to her brother on the piano bench, and the gentle way Verso had spoken to her, played music for her. ] The creature said that he went somewhere dangerous.
[ (Very rude of Clive to not call 'the creature' by its proper name, but he has to be forgiven his ignorance.) A low, long exhale, and he straightens somewhat. ]
Will you show me the way?
[ Selfish, he knows. Maybe he should be more graceful about this, and give Verso the option to stay here in the Station and wait for his friend to return instead of chasing shadows in Nevron-infested territory. They're lovers, yes, but they needn't be beholden to each other always; Verso is entitled to his freedoms. ]
[Where there is nestling, there are lips to a crown and fingers stroking hair; there's a settling in place and a narrowing of the world down to the two of them and the nebulous space that Joshua now occupies. The fire crackling before them is large but so is the station, and the cold can only be escaped through proximity to warmth, so Verso draws Clive a little closer, too, laughing more breath through his hair as he speaks of wanting to kiss him.
The way they're tucked together precludes that but not the reverse, so Verso shifts enough so that he can press kisses to Clive's forehead, then his temple, his own lips curling slightly more into a smile with each kiss. At least the Grandis have given them their space, he thinks – doubly so when Clive calls them creatures and Verso can only hope they're out of earshot – which is all the more reason to indulge. Not that he minds anyone knowing that he loves the man by his side and in his heart, he's just a man who appreciates his privacy. Especially in moments like this. It's no surprise to Verso that Clive intends to go after Joshua, and nor does Verso expect anything other than the immediate and indefinite halting of their own travels. Even had Clive not said anything to that effect, Verso still would have dragged him along down whichever paths Joshua might have taken.
That Clive wants Verso's help isn't much more of a surprise itself, but it feels good in ways he wouldn't have expected. If it's selfish, then that's its appeal – the resulting confirmation that Clive will lean on him, too, even when that leaning angles them towards danger with no guarantees of what truly awaits them.]
Of course.
[His answer comes quickly, easily, voice laced with encouragement and certainty and the assurance that he would have this no other way. Whatever they do, they do together.]
We'll head out when you're ready.
[A part of him wants to insist that they rest first, get some food in their bellies, dry themselves the rest of the way off, warm those places deep inside their bones that still bear traces of a chill. But, again, it isn't his call and he doesn't want to assert anything in this moment besides his desire to see this through with Clive, so he leaves it at that.]
[ Easy acquiescence. Clive should have known. Verso is too good to him, and he'd have half a mind to push back if he didn't also know that doing so would be an insult. This is Verso asserting his freedom, and Clive will have to accept the notion that he is part and parcel of it instead of another burden for Verso to bear.
So: ] Thank you. [ Gratitude, on the tail end of a warm sigh. ] ―We'll spend the night here, and head out in the morning.
[ Flirting with the vague notion that Joshua might come back, while also acknowledging that it's been a long, long day. Again: death and love and survival. Clive's heart needs to rest as much as the rest of him does, desperate as it is to confirm whether this new development is truth or trick.
His fingers dance along Verso's jaw, appreciating his closeness before telegraphing that he'll relinquish it temporarily. There are tints that he needs to replenish, and other useful supplies and information besides that the Grandis could provide him with: he should also make sure that the blond-haired man really is his Joshua, though he really can't recall any other Expeditioner in recent history going by his brother's name.
One last soft kiss to the corner of Verso's mouth, and Clive untangles himself to do his due diligence. He'll return in time to help Verso with finding a cozy spot to untangle bedrolls, and help him hang their clothes over a warm fire to dry them properly for their subsequent impromptu journey. ]
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flamebrand) wrote2024-09-08 02:07 pm
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Mm, I'd rather ride you.
[Definitely not in the snow, though, or in the wide open where anyone could theoretically stumble upon them, even if the chances of that are astronomically low, so in that context the carousel does come out on top. But it's all the way over there, and Clive is right here, touching him and kissing him and...
Bringing up Monoco.
Verso laughs, then relinquishes his hold on Clive's hand and leans slightly away. It's actually a very good point, though; Verso hasn't really put much thought into how he'll introduce Clive to Monoco, or how Monoco might respond, and now that he's flipping through the potential scenarios in his mind, well, he's not sure he's ready for the inevitable ribbing he'll be subjected to when he introduces him to his lover, fire incarnate. So, he pre-empts it instead, stroking Clive's hair into place as he speaks.]
Monoco? Don't worry about him. There's, uh, something else he'll be much more interested in.
[Gotta maintain those airs of mystery. If Monoco is present at the station then there is no doubt in Verso's mind that he'll find one way or another to encourage Clive into a duel, and Verso would be lying if he said he didn't want to see that, so, sorry, Clive, but this secret is remaining unspoken until Monoco sees fit to introduce himself. Those are thoughts for a slightly later time, however; Clive speaks love with his lips and tongue and murmurs, and Verso is helpless against the distraction, humming into the kiss and moving his hand over Clive's chest so that he can attune himself to the rhythm of his heartbeat and what it says about his feelings, too.
One more burst of starlight delivered on the tip of his tongue before he rises to his feet and once again holds out his hands for Clive to take in joining him.]
All right. You've done an awful job of convincing me, but... Let's get going.
no subject
One last hit of beloved starlight, and they're back on their feet. Verso feels much closer when they link hands again, and while Clive will never deny the other man the time and space that he needs when considering the fraught nature of his past, it feels heartening to pick up at a brisker, more hopeful pace. 'Get over it' is not an option for either of them, but they can learn how to hold that knife in their chests without twisting the wound open, at least. ]
Alright. ―And I'll do my utmost not to interrupt a reunion between friends.
[ Even if Clive is still reeling a bit from I love you. Being on his best behavior with this ringing in his ears might be difficult, but he'll make himself sparse if Verso wants a bit of space while he catches up with someone he supposedly hasn't seen in a bit (time is a wobbly concept for Verso, Clive knows).
And if his stupid infatuation keeps running hot through his veins, well. Clive has two hands. He'll make do somewhere, and hope that he doesn't make a terrible first impression. Not the most elegant thing to consider as they make their way to the giant structure emerging in the horizon― a gaping maw that looks to be a station of sorts with broken tracks running crooked and sideways towards it― but a thought that Clive has, nevertheless.
Smitten. It's the only way Clive can justify how he keeps flicking his gaze to the side, catching Verso's face in profile, just looking at him occasionally as they walk. Not the kind of staring that implies that he's afraid Verso will leave or disappear if he stops being vigilant, but a self-indulgent sort that says that he really, really, really just likes the shape of him. ]
no subject
At least not while everything still feels warm and hopeful and the haunting impossibility of his own death is, for once, far from the forefront of his thoughts.
So, they continue on like this, hand in hand, cold filtering through the warmth that Clive had infused in Verso but never taking root. Soon, the flames from within the station flicker into sight, gold and orange against the blue-shadowed snow, and the tracks make way for broken-up trains hanging in the air at odd angles. A Grandis watches from atop the stairs leading towards the station, a silent sentinel guarding what remains of his kind.]
Well, here we are.
[There is no sign of Monoco, but there never is this early on. After a quick glance up into the rafters doesn't provide any hints as to whether he's around, either, Verso shrugs and looks over to Clive.]
Oh, and fair warning: you should beware of falling Gestrals.
[Assuming that Monoco is even here to begin with; he could just as easily be elsewhere, accompanying Noco on some mission or another, perhaps, or going on adventures of his own. Again, there's no real fun in saying that, and Clive's reflexes are sharp, so Verso sidles further inside, completely oblivious to what actually awaits them on the other side of the arched entrance as he dramatically gestures Clive ahead.]
Apres vous.
no subject
(Far too trusting: he does keep his eyes up towards the ceiling, despite the fact that the threat might actually come at him from anywhere else.)
Fortunately― or unfortunately, depending on perspective― there's no ambush. Just a nod from the Grandis standing vigil (Clive assumes that it recognizes Verso, and therefore they both get a pass), and more ice and twisted metal and orphaned compartments arching over snowy walkways in the grand, sprawling beyond. There are a few more scattered creatures huddled in and around broken trains who look at Clive and murmur something under their breaths; he thinks he hears the tail end of one of their bemused whispers, and it sounds an awful lot like "another Expeditioner?" ]
―Your friend may not be home, [ Clive offers to Verso, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. Instead of the expected, familiar outline of the other man, however, there's yet another rotund Grandis, who has stepped out from behind the shadow of a collapsed pillar to approach Clive with its masked, mouthless face.
"If it's Monoco you seek," it says, its voice like warm gravel. "He went on an errand a few days back, and has yet to return."
Spoken with gentle conviction that 'return' is what Monoco will be doing. The whole thing takes Clive slightly off-guard, but he feels no compulsion to draw his sword against a creature that obviously means him no harm.
He opens his mouth to say something in affirmation― "I see, thank you"― but the Grandis continues before he can get a word in edgewise.
"Or if it's Joshua you seek," is the bombshell addendum, "he went to Frozen Hearts, though I warned him of the danger."
Joshua. Joshua. Clive, who now both looks and feels like he's had a bucket of ice water upturned on his head, stands there and tries, tries, to let that statement sink in.
Finally, he manages a strained: ] ―Joshua? A young man of my height, with golden hair and a kind demeanor?
[ The Grandis nods sagely. "Yes. Joshua."
Clive feels his knees give out; he slumps onto the snow, trying to understand.
"Oh," the Grandis rumbles, clearly concerned. ]
no subject
But there isn't a single word that he can bring to mind that's less idle and of more consequence than Joshua.
Verso's back at Clive's side as soon as he can make it there, though not soon enough to catch him before he falls to the ground. That distance, too, is soon cleared with Verso kneeling before him, hands on his shoulders, head angled to get a better view of his face and, perhaps, a better understanding of what his mental state might be, even knowing that it'll most likely be obfuscated by shock.
When the silence drags on, Verso gives his shoulders a squeeze and takes his place in the conversation.]
How long ago did he leave?
[The Grandis hums, contemplative, then offers, "A short while after Monoco." Which is a small measure of relief for Verso, at least; it means that Joshua hasn't been gone for worryingly long, that Monoco's errand didn't involve chasing after an Expeditioner errant who was supposed to have returned. Small blessings, he thinks, even as he grapples with the possibility that this isn't the good news that it might seem to be on the surface.]
Did he say why he was headed out there?
["No, for I didn't ask." There's an edge of apology to its voice, a lilt of regret that remains unspoken. "Their time is already so short. I never wish to claim it for myself."
A sigh, but at least it's a start. Verso offers a quick thanks to the Grandis before grounding his focus back in Clive.]
Hey. Let's go sit by the fire, yeah?
no subject
It should be impossible. Clive remembers－ what does he remember? Fire and panic and screaming, screaming, so much screaming. He tries to pick at the fragments of that night, tries to slot Joshua into that chaos, and can't find him; maybe he'd closed his eyes to it all as it was happening, too stunned by how unfathomable it all was to place his brother in the middle of that nightmare.
Faltering steps take him to the suggested fire. When he sits, it's heavily; when he shakes his head, it's with raw disbelief. ]
He's alive, [ is the only thing he can think of to say, after a protracted silence. ] My brother－ he still lives.
[ The revelation undoes him. His heart's been through a lot today－ death and love and survival－ and Clive laughs about it, eyes wet and brows downturned, happy, so fucking happy that he doesn't know what to do about all of this.
He shudders, sighs, and reaches for Verso's hand to steady himself. Wanting to make sure any of this is real at all, that he won't suddenly jerk awake on top of that pile of corpses again, steaming and shattered. ]
He's alive.
[ Again, as he glances towards Verso with the sort of desperation that says that he wants this to be true, that he wants this affirmed, lest he break again. He's not sure if he can endure losing Joshua a second time. ]
no subject
Besides, Clive is strong enough to hope and lose hope, even if the desperation across his face carries his own fears to the contrary. Lacing his claimed fingers with Clive's, he runs the thumb of his other hand beneath his eyes, guiding away any tears that have fallen, helping free those that haven't yet.]
Yeah. And not too far from here.
[Assuming he hasn't left Frozen Hearts to continue on whatever journey he's embarked upon, but that thought doesn't need to be put out into the world, either. Especially when any distance must surely feel like too much distance, minutes stretching into hours, into days, into weeks.
Idly, he thinks about the scarf they'd found in the Forgotten Battlefield and he wonders if it meant something. Come find me in the mountains, perhaps. Take care not to catch a cold, brother. He's never met Joshua, but he can picture a vague-faced, golden-haired man with winter-rosed cheeks and a familiar smile, embracing his brother with... No. The thought stops there. Verso doesn't know Joshua. He can't begin to try and predict what he might feel or how he might respond. So, he stops trying to get ahead of things. It isn't place.]
What are you thinking?
[A question with specific intentions, yet asked generally in case Clive's mind hasn't caught up to Verso's. They're on Clive's time, now; he will occupy it however long and to whatever extents Clive needs him to.]
no subject
His forehead rests against Verso's jaw. Close enough to feel the other man's warm breath moving the ends of his unruly hair. Clive's guiding light in the tumult of this upending, too-good-to-be-true news. The same, patient presence that'd endured weeks of Clive's stilted attempts at becoming human again.
When asked what he's thinking: ]
That I'd like to kiss you.
[ Not even a line. Sincerity, like the blunt end of a cudgel. Clive loves Verso far too much for Verso's own good. Tears cooling on his face, he squeezes Verso's hand again, trying to reorient himself back into this new reality, this new timeline where Joshua isn't dead and where there is still a possibility that his brother can be found. ]
―And that I need to go to him. Joshua. [ There's an assumption here, that of anyone that Clive has ever met, Verso would understand what it means to be bound to a sibling the way Clive is. He remembers Alicia sitting next to her brother on the piano bench, and the gentle way Verso had spoken to her, played music for her. ] The creature said that he went somewhere dangerous.
[ (Very rude of Clive to not call 'the creature' by its proper name, but he has to be forgiven his ignorance.) A low, long exhale, and he straightens somewhat. ]
Will you show me the way?
[ Selfish, he knows. Maybe he should be more graceful about this, and give Verso the option to stay here in the Station and wait for his friend to return instead of chasing shadows in Nevron-infested territory. They're lovers, yes, but they needn't be beholden to each other always; Verso is entitled to his freedoms. ]
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The way they're tucked together precludes that but not the reverse, so Verso shifts enough so that he can press kisses to Clive's forehead, then his temple, his own lips curling slightly more into a smile with each kiss. At least the Grandis have given them their space, he thinks – doubly so when Clive calls them creatures and Verso can only hope they're out of earshot – which is all the more reason to indulge. Not that he minds anyone knowing that he loves the man by his side and in his heart, he's just a man who appreciates his privacy. Especially in moments like this. It's no surprise to Verso that Clive intends to go after Joshua, and nor does Verso expect anything other than the immediate and indefinite halting of their own travels. Even had Clive not said anything to that effect, Verso still would have dragged him along down whichever paths Joshua might have taken.
That Clive wants Verso's help isn't much more of a surprise itself, but it feels good in ways he wouldn't have expected. If it's selfish, then that's its appeal – the resulting confirmation that Clive will lean on him, too, even when that leaning angles them towards danger with no guarantees of what truly awaits them.]
Of course.
[His answer comes quickly, easily, voice laced with encouragement and certainty and the assurance that he would have this no other way. Whatever they do, they do together.]
We'll head out when you're ready.
[A part of him wants to insist that they rest first, get some food in their bellies, dry themselves the rest of the way off, warm those places deep inside their bones that still bear traces of a chill. But, again, it isn't his call and he doesn't want to assert anything in this moment besides his desire to see this through with Clive, so he leaves it at that.]
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So: ] Thank you. [ Gratitude, on the tail end of a warm sigh. ] ―We'll spend the night here, and head out in the morning.
[ Flirting with the vague notion that Joshua might come back, while also acknowledging that it's been a long, long day. Again: death and love and survival. Clive's heart needs to rest as much as the rest of him does, desperate as it is to confirm whether this new development is truth or trick.
His fingers dance along Verso's jaw, appreciating his closeness before telegraphing that he'll relinquish it temporarily. There are tints that he needs to replenish, and other useful supplies and information besides that the Grandis could provide him with: he should also make sure that the blond-haired man really is his Joshua, though he really can't recall any other Expeditioner in recent history going by his brother's name.
One last soft kiss to the corner of Verso's mouth, and Clive untangles himself to do his due diligence. He'll return in time to help Verso with finding a cozy spot to untangle bedrolls, and help him hang their clothes over a warm fire to dry them properly for their subsequent impromptu journey. ]