[Verso laughs, presses a soft kiss to Clive's lips, lips never unfurling from their smile. That's another thing, he thinks – how being called good means something to Clive, at least on some level. Easily, he could have taken everything that's been done to him as cause enough to commit himself to an existence fed by indignation and an acceptance of the worst. But he doesn't. He hasn't. And that says close to everything. As far as Verso's concerned, anyway.
There's much he wants to say about greed and hunger and those ifs Clive speaks, but they're of the same mind. Curled up and warm in bed, smelling of sandalwood and bergamot, bodies relaxed from both the bath and the brinks they'd tumbled each other over in its waters, earlier urgencies abated by Clive's reunion with Joshua, the peace they're awash in is bright and guiding as the stars, inviting and homey as crackling flames, rare as the future.]
I won't let you forget.
[A confident promise. Verso can't imagine a scenario where he leaves Clive to whatever might consume him, whether from the inside or the outside. In truth, Ifrit himself could emerge to snuff the life out of Verso and he would still return to Clive's side insistent that he's a good man and certain that he's speaking in absolute honesty. Which is perhaps extreme in its own right, a demonstration of his acclimation towards pain and suffering, but he's so far removed from what it's like to exist on any other terms that he can't conceive of a depth of physical pain that would change his mind.
But that's neither here nor there, either. Besides, Verso has his own request to make, a fear greater than anything Ifrit could instill in him, though he speaks it with a light tone, almost humorous.]
[ Forgetting himself. Clive thinks to the conversation they'd had in warm water, the way Verso'd shrugged after Clive's request to keep his heart whole even if Clive perished somewhere out there. His brush with near-death has reframed some of his beliefs about how Verso has stayed intact for decades and decades of isolation; Verso's refusal to promise has given Clive more of an idea of what might happen to that intactness if he fumbles.
As always, he can't bear even the thought of it. So he sets his misgivings aside regarding the muchness of his own being, and loops Verso into a tighter embrace, covering him with arms and blankets almost as if to hide him from the rest of the world and its prying eyes, its poor intentions. Close and tucked and safe. ]
A deal.
[ Though they don't have anything to swear on but this, their bodies pressed together and their chroma mingling. Clive flares scarlet for a few dwindling seconds, letting harmless flame flicker around the both of them like the last embers on cooling coal.
Verso is far too precious to lose even a fraction of a sliver of him. Keeping him insulated, Clive huddles and breathes, so comfortable that it's likely he'll remain a dead weight against the other man until his brother comes to wake him (embarrassingly) in the morning. It's fine. Joshua knows, and more importantly, is alive. Right now, Clive is the most fortunate man in any part of the Canvas. Continent or Cityside. ]
...Now rest, unless you'd like me to moon over you a bit longer.
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flamebrand) wrote2024-09-08 02:07 pm
no subject
There's much he wants to say about greed and hunger and those ifs Clive speaks, but they're of the same mind. Curled up and warm in bed, smelling of sandalwood and bergamot, bodies relaxed from both the bath and the brinks they'd tumbled each other over in its waters, earlier urgencies abated by Clive's reunion with Joshua, the peace they're awash in is bright and guiding as the stars, inviting and homey as crackling flames, rare as the future.]
I won't let you forget.
[A confident promise. Verso can't imagine a scenario where he leaves Clive to whatever might consume him, whether from the inside or the outside. In truth, Ifrit himself could emerge to snuff the life out of Verso and he would still return to Clive's side insistent that he's a good man and certain that he's speaking in absolute honesty. Which is perhaps extreme in its own right, a demonstration of his acclimation towards pain and suffering, but he's so far removed from what it's like to exist on any other terms that he can't conceive of a depth of physical pain that would change his mind.
But that's neither here nor there, either. Besides, Verso has his own request to make, a fear greater than anything Ifrit could instill in him, though he speaks it with a light tone, almost humorous.]
If you don't let me forget myself, either. Deal?
no subject
As always, he can't bear even the thought of it. So he sets his misgivings aside regarding the muchness of his own being, and loops Verso into a tighter embrace, covering him with arms and blankets almost as if to hide him from the rest of the world and its prying eyes, its poor intentions. Close and tucked and safe. ]
A deal.
[ Though they don't have anything to swear on but this, their bodies pressed together and their chroma mingling. Clive flares scarlet for a few dwindling seconds, letting harmless flame flicker around the both of them like the last embers on cooling coal.
Verso is far too precious to lose even a fraction of a sliver of him. Keeping him insulated, Clive huddles and breathes, so comfortable that it's likely he'll remain a dead weight against the other man until his brother comes to wake him (embarrassingly) in the morning. It's fine. Joshua knows, and more importantly, is alive. Right now, Clive is the most fortunate man in any part of the Canvas. Continent or Cityside. ]
...Now rest, unless you'd like me to moon over you a bit longer.
[ Which, like. He could. Easily. ]