throwmoreswords | [ic inbox]

You like having me around, do you? [ he smirks, indulgent, eyes lidded as he narrows in on the thing most likely to fluster Vergil.

and then he reaches down to grab the man by a dainty ankle. ]

You are going to be laying next to me in the bed, and if you kick me with your nice, clean boots, I'm going to take them off you and throw them off the balcony. Make your choice.

If I did not at least somewhat enjoy having you around I would have drowned myself in wine at my own abode.[ he doesn't have that many friends, gil, and theres only so many times you can text your not-dad before it starts feeling clingy.

his ankle is grab.
he complains with a grunting noise, but. He decidedly doesn't kick him off.
the final step is acceptance. ]

These were eight hundred dollars.
Do not put them on the balcony.

Your wine selections are mediocre compared to mine and you know it. [ it's fine gil has no friends and hasn't spoken to his father in years, let alone acquired a father figure

you're doing great honestly sweetie
even if Gil is taking Vergil's boots off and letting them thump at the end of the bed, leaving him in his stocking feet. ]

I didn't say put on the balcony, I said chucked over and given to the streets or the raccoons, whatever would have them first. Get comfortable and lay on your side.

My wine selections are tasteful. Graceful. Something with -ful on the end. Maybe just full.

[ he doesn't want to talk anymore. he's not doing great anywhere, he just wants to sleep. boots off, garish silver and blue houndstooth socks to the world, vergil DOES try to just flop over onto the bed on his back.

he complains as the man orders him to roll onto his side instead.
but he at least listens. ]

Why is it rodents with you.
Raccoons. Possums.
Leave my boots be.

[ he smirks as the man whines about being put to his side, giving a little shrug as he helps him flop up the bed. ]

Yes, yes, I'm terrible and cruel, but if you vomit and die because you've had more to drink tonight than the rest of the sum total of your life, I'm not sure money would save me from whatever's going on with your brother, the bear repellent, and the son you apparently have.

I will do what I please with your boots, and with the rodents. Maybe I'll summon my possum for you to hold onto through the night.

[ he climbs into bed on the other side of the mattress, leaving a comfortable space between the two of them as he pulls his phone out and dims the screen--and upon reaching out to the side table, dims the rest of the lights in the suite until it's just the glittering light from outside the tinted windows illuminating the room. ]

Goodnight, Mr. Vittore.

I will not die. I have too much I have not done yet.

[ the last words he's going to get out before he goes frighteningly still, arms curled up under his head, legs tucked up a little against himself as he gets comfortable in the mammoth bed. Barely even shifting as gil collapses next to him--

and he's out like a light. A quiet, dreamless sleep following, eating away all the flashing, terrible images of the fire, the demons chasing him and singing for his blood.
He won't vomit over your nice sheets or anything, Gil--sleeping almost like the dead, but. He's at least visibly breathing throughout the night. ]

Splendid. I'll see you in the morning, then.

[ and so Gil's vigil begins in earnest; a thought comes to him and he sends a text to a certain newly met twin brother, because while Vergil is startled, he's not completely impolite or against letting people he cares about know what he's up to... which explains why Gil found out about the Auguries move like two months later, natch.

it's going to be a long night, so Gil finds himself fiddling around on his phone to spend the minutes, hours. Vergil is a steady sleeper, so it's likely another hours or two before he finds himself driven to check on the man, hand reaching over to rest fingers on Vergil's pulse, just to make sure his heart was still beating--

he wakes with a start, sweat hot on his neck as the feeling of a mountain crashing down on him subsides around his ears, hand on his chest as he sits up and takes stock of his camp. the embers of the camping fire glitter like rubies in the starlit night, and the shape across from him shifts ever so slightly under its simple white tunic, the green curtain of its hair--

'Enkidu, my friend, did you call for me?' he tries to speak softly, tries not to whisper because he is not afraid, even as he can still feel the rocks crushing his chest, and the shape across from him shifts, head lifting, body rolling so that his soft-faced friend looks to him, rubbing their gold-green eyes to banish the last of their sleep.

'What troubles you so, my king?' and he speaks, then, of his dream, of the sweat that trickles down his back and the unease that's dug into his chest like the mountain he dreamed of crashing down upon his body, and Enkidu smiles, gentle and serene, laying their head back upon their arms. 'A good omen, then. Humbaba will fall before us when we go to clash with him.'

and the fear just melts away in the face of that kind voice, that sweet smile, and he settles back down to rest once more--'

Gil pulls his hand away from Vergil as if he'd been burned, breathing heavily, eyes darting around the room. His chest aches from--from the rocks? From the vision? From the fact that the green-haired being is not here? his head is spinning and it hurts more than a bit. he takes a deep breath and lets it go slow, eyes drifting over to Vergil to assure himself the man yet lives as he tries to think of anything other than what he wants to think of most. ]

[ while vergil is normally a somewhat light sleeper and may well wake up at being touched on a normal day, today, he doesn't. there's enough booze in his system being worked out by his demonic healing factor that he does not, in fact, even budge when touched.

which also means unfortunately, gilgamesh goes through the new vivid memory of his past and his friend all alone.
Sorry, man.
He does live through the night, fortunately--even if gil goes the entire night sleepless with that new memory to torture himself over, the absence of that beautiful green companion and instead the feeling that he will never see the being that made his heart feel whole again in this world.

Vergil wakes up easily, at the wee hours in the morning--having not even slept in an hour past his usual wake up time.
...He hasn't gotten drunk often.
But when he does, he always
Always
tends to sleep in and have a horrible, creaky day the next day due to his infrequent visits to the night before's long hard drink.

And yet. He sits up.

Feeling fresh and free as if he'd gone to bed early the night before.

He's going to hold his face in his hands and make sure he didn't die in his sleep and he feels fine because he's a fucking ghost. ]

[ic inbox] - Kaisou

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