gilgamesh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
throwmoreswords) wrote2019-02-20 10:22 pm
throwmoreswords) wrote2019-02-20 10:22 pm
[ic inbox] - Kaisou
State your case and don't bore me--or there may be consequences.
username: AUO | ✉ ☏ 📷 |
State your case and don't bore me--or there may be consequences.
no subject
...He is, fortunately, clothed, even if those snakeskin pants are an affront to any god that might be witness to Gil's wardrobe, but for once, Vergil doesn't make a comment on them. Returning to his careful but quick tomato slicing, looking far too concentrated for such a simple task. ]
It is your home. I do have no reason to complain. I would hate to get off topic, anyhow, as I know myself; and I know I may mentally try to flee this topic if I think about it too strongly.
[ ...it's odd, admitting you have Emotions. ]
I received a gift on my doorstep today.
What do you know about the language of flowers, Gilgamesh.
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Wise of you to acknowledge my sovereign right. It will make things easier in the long run.
[ it is, which is why Gilgamesh doesn't have any. skill issue, big V. he tilts his head as the man begins the first of his powerpoint slides, glancing to the flowers with a curious eye. ]
Not overly much, I'm afraid. Enlighten me?
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[ all said while slicing almonds into halves, tossing them into a bowl as he ... pauses, for just a second. Translating the words in his head, crossing them out and starting again. ]
Flower language can be used to speak emotions and words that people often had difficulty speaking back when sending flowers as a gift to friends, family, or ... paramours was a far more common practice.
Certain colours of flowers along with what type of flower is included in an arrangement speaks for what the gift could mean.
A mix of Pheasant's eye flowers, along with large yellow chrysanthemums and an arrangement of white lilies can, for example, give the message of mourning, remembering sad things about someone who may have passed, for example.
[ he shifts, gesturing his knife towards.... a boquet of flowers he'd laid next to the counter. ]
...So with that logic, what may you translate a bouquet like this to mean? Your best guess.
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[ Gilgamesh is good at timelines, if nothing else? he watches as Vergil continues to wage war on the fruit and vegetable communities, waiting as patiently as he can as Vergil plays with words and then twists them again until he finds the correct combination to say...
well. not much. he says a lot around the point he wants to make and creeps, laborious and slow, deciding to make the explanation audience participation at the last moment as Gilgamesh weighs through his thoughts and options, sifting through his immediate reactions the way he might pick through a stack of books, or a pile of jewelry, standing up slowly and making his way over to the bouquet so that he can get a good look at it.
he glances at the card but leaves it its secrets for now, picking up the bouquet to well and truly consider it, cupping the arrangement carefully, as if fears bringing the whole thing apart in his hands if he's too brash in his movements. ]
Well. As I've told you, I know nothing about flowers--color on the other hand. Going to make me put the business degree to use, are we? [ because Gilgamesh had a certain fascination with color and pattern, like a magpie always looking for the next shiny thing to catch his attention, turning the bouquet this way and that as he retreats into the house, only to return with a vase in hand--something black and hand-turned, struck through with veins of gold-bright color (or knowing Gil, actual gold). he stands next to Vergil, filling it with water as he tucks the bouquet into the water, setting it between the pair of them and folding his arms over his chest, looking at the flowers and the not the man.
he's capricious and prone to follow whim, not stupid. most people don't deserve to hear the king wax poetic, but Vergil isn't most people, now is he? ]
Blue's certainly representative of a certain someone, and carnations are a touch famous for what they mean, are they not? Not quite as heavy-handed and overwrought as the much lauded, much more traditional rose, though one may faintly remember Leonardo da Vinci tucked a carnation in the hand of the Virgin Mary as opposed to any other flower--I would imagine one might look upon a carnation with a sense that it speaks of... affection. Devotion. Something distinct and unique that prompts one to think of what it's doing in an arrangement, the shape more complex than a rose, or a daisy, or a tulip, or a lily, and on and on for the flowers that spring more readily to mind.
And then there's the matter of the color--red is the color of blood, of passion. Choosing to put a solitary, proud splash of red in a sea of blue, a single heart swept up by what could otherwise be a monotonous, unknowable ocean...
[ there's a wryness in Gilgamesh's look, then, fixing Vergil with the stare he keeps avoiding, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. ] Am I terribly far off?
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And yet, confident as the sun in the sky, the golden man twists and dances around the kitchen with his own conclusions that are flowery and beautiful in their own regard--perhaps not the direct translation of the arrangement, and yet, not for a moment off the mark to what they meant. It was... profound, and a little embarrassing to have the intentions read aloud, and part of him was definitely sheepishly wondering if he wanted to hear Gilgamesh hit the nail on the head; or if he'd wanted to explain, merely because he wanted to speak out the storm brewing between his ears.
In the end, perhaps it was good that it was Gilgamesh.
Because at least then, with a third party, it was hard to deny what was written hard and in stone here: The flowers had been sent with purpose and intent. Even one who knew nothing of the language of flowers would understand what Vergil had been fussing over for the last few hours. ]
While the exact defining meaning of the flowers and their colour have not been hit, you have somehow bulldozed perfectly into the only answer that I, too, could conclude from the set. [ he acquiesces, even placing a hand against the lip of his collar to bow his head at the other, as if in awed reverence. it's a quick motion--over as quickly as he does it. ]
I have, never once in my life, had to come to terms with someone yearning for me in such a .... genteel way. I have had my fair share of people making passes at me, but this is. Different.
[ very different. ]
I am unsure how to answer someone elses' feelings.
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he speaks, and the truth is absolute, even if it wasn't what Vergil intended. he gives his friend a wry look as he awards points for style, leaning back against his counter with the bouquet in its vase sat between them, like they're discussing the merits of a piece before deciding on its worth for public access television. ]
Of course I found the answer for what it is, Vittore. I have eyes.
[ it's lilting and playful as Vergil continues on his path, ponderous and much-debated, making it clear that the man's been spinning his thoughts round and round with no conclusion for hours at minimum. he almost takes offense to the people comment--being reduced to people making passes smarts him in the ego just a touch, but
it's not about him. something shifts in his chest, unsure--melancholy and alone, and Gilgamesh presses it down into the places that it goes, acknowledging the uncertainty in his chest and mastering it in the same breath, consigning it as part of himself even as he comes back to full attention, Vergil sighing forlorn as he explains... a good portion of his problem.
Gil takes a moment to stare at him. it's like a man's standing at the bottom of an escalator, yearning to be up, and yet, he's not connected the dots that will bring the fruits of his desires to bear.
Gil is, thankfully, feeling merciful enough not to say it that way. ]
The fact that you bring this to me, the man with no heart, is surprising and amusing. Truly, your luck must've run completely dry. [ he folds his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he considers all the same--for even though he has
nominimal experience with matters of emotionally connected affection, he's still been through more than Vergil and man, that's one hell of a precipice to be stuck at. ]Well. I suppose you should begin at the beginning of the question--are the feelings you're being asked to answer a surprise? Are they unwelcome?
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[ and continuing to pay him a compliment, because, exasperated, he lets out a quiet, almost agitated sigh when of all responses, the other almost seems too amused that he's asking Gilgamesh for advice. ]
You say you 'have no heart', but unlike myself, you have the uncanny ability to gather people around you. I have seen it in the past. And I am certain I will see it again in the present. The only other person I could speak with on this would be Zhongli-- who took several centuries to accept he had feelings for someone, if snooping around on the public message boards on 'Libra' has taught me anything. I assumed you would be a better choice.
[ but... his food preparations get a little more... careful, purposeful. Like he's trying to think and he cannot multitask making simple salads at the same time. ]
...They are a surprise. Yes. I would consider myself an unfriendly and uncooperative as a person. Someone who is difficult to befriend, much less develop any sort of genuine feeling toward.
I have a tendency to speak to literally, too bluntly, and without fully considering the feelings of others.
These are aspects of myself that I am aware of, and am actively working to ... be more aware of, however, it is a work in progress.
As for being unwelcome.
...
No.
I suppose they are not. ...Rather, it is such like I have considered myself to be unlikeable for so long--that it is a marvel to me that someone may have developed feelings for me past that.
Which is why I find myself at such a strange place.
Uncharted territory, so to speak.
[ All he's ever wanted is... ]
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[ no, he's never letting that go. ever. it almost hurt him in the place where his emotions would go if he had any.
Vergil continues to stumble through compliments like an elephant stumbles through a farmer's fences after partaking on one too many fermented fruits, stifling a smirk as his friend laments and rationalizes how Gilgamesh is his only choice in this matter of his newly found heart. he almost teases Vergil for his dire situation, his luck, his desperation...
and at least the man is also letting himself have it, not leaving Gilgamesh alone in the self-burn department as he lays his flaws bare, picking through his food preparations with the same steady, careful hands that gently work to restore his little trinkets and antiquities, silence ebbing and flowing as he sifts through the expanse of his mind to find words that accurately describe what it is that he desires. ]
Lots of money isn't really an uncanny ability. [ he teases again, because while Vergil needs quiet to find his sentences, Gilgamesh has always found his thoughts best while making noise and acting--like he's a vessel for energy and vibrancy; an extrovert using .0001% of his power. ] First of all... there is no shame in being honest--and I will be clear, there is a difference in being an awkward person while still being true and being 'truthful' in a way that's meant to keep everything around you cut to a size you aren't intimidated by.
You speak blunt, sometimes unpleasant truth because that's who you are as a person. Truthful. You see no point in hiding your motivations, your desires. Some people have to talk circles about who they are and what they want, and you never bothered to develop that cushion of ego because the end goal's always been more important to you. [ he considers for a moment as he fusses at Vergil's bouquet, picking off shriveled leaves to beautify the whole of the presentation just a little more. ] ... but there's nothing wrong with kindness for the pleasure of being kind.
And as for this--odd, secretly guilty pleasure you seem to have at the thought that someone enjoys your presence--it's not really a question of your perception of your worth, now is it? Do not dismiss or diminish yourself so cruelly. It'd be the same as telling your suitor that they were foolish and lacking good taste to their face. At that point, you'd be better suited to throwing the bouquet back to them and burning the card. I've teased you time and time again for buying trinkets that I thought were ugly or ill-made, and yet you always tell me to mind my tongue, since it's about your desires and not mine, hmn?
[ he turns, then, to look at his friend, drawing to the full extent of his height, arms folded over his chest as if he's a king sending commandments down to a vassal. ]
What is the point in life if you don't chase the unknown? Why live if you won't chase pleasure--for what is pleasure, if not joy in its purest form? You don't need a chart of the territory. You just need the will to explore it. If you reciprocate their feelings, speak it to the air, to their ear, and chase the stars on the distant horizon with reckless, terrible joy in your heart. It is better to strive for your dreams and topple off of the path than to stay static, unchanging and safe, wasting the ticking minutes of your mortality on logic and security.
Embrace pleasure, Vergil Vittore. Strive for joy. Live a little, why don't you?
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You truly need to stop bringing up that failure. [ his foot has never left his mouth from that moment, and he feels even when he's in his casket in death, gil would be telling the story of how he once told him how to dress instead of complimenting him. God. God.
He will listen, though. To the rest of Gilgamesh's analysis of the situation, reading his own feelings while dressing him down for his reflection on this situation. ...It would be an insult to question Zulius' feelings, wouldn't it? He hadn't honestly considered that, and there's a small crack in his usually so solid mask--a look that almost looks remorseful for his quick words without enough thought behind them. Picking apart his own flaws had been easy--but actually changing them wasn't enough to just know they were there, weren't they?
He'd been considering approaching Zulius and telling him his feelings would be better put elsewhere due to the fact that Vergil himself would be a terrible choice in romantic partners, but...
With this sort of second view from Gilgamesh, he's now realising how terrible a response that would be. How selfish it'd be? ...Quietly, he's glad he came to ask the others' advice. He'd dodged another bullet, here. He'll close his eyes, putting the knife down now that the tomatoes are now properly diced, lain over with thick rounds of mozzerella.
He lifts the plate, drizzled with oil and pepper, and offers it to his friend. ]
I am not sure I fully know how to 'Live a Little;' so to speak.
It was one life lesson I am more than certain I skipped out on during my long stay within the walls of Academia.
I suppose, perhaps, there is little harm in 'leaping before looking'.
...
You know that is not ordinarily my style. [ it's yours, you new-experience loving bitch. ] But I can understand the merit behind it.
I was right, by the by.
Your advice has certainly been the best I could have sought. My perspective has changed.
no subject
[ Gilgamesh and his pride are going to die alone together, hand in unlovable hand. he's made peace with that.
he watches Vergil as he puts together his vegetable lumps, taking the plate graciously and moving to sit at the table with the meal, legs crossing as he can see the wheels turning behind those ice blue eyes as Vergil thinks and thinks again, turning the puzzle of the human experience over and over in his hands like he'll find some hidden mechanism or crack in the smooth facade if he just looks long and hard enough. ]
Well. Step one is to do things. New things, things that you've always discounted yourself from. 'Leap before you look' is a perfectly cromulent strategy in matters like this--I wouldn't say jump off a cliff or invest half of your money in the stock market on a feeling alone [ because those are Gilgamesh activities, not Vergil ones ] but something like...
[ he side-eyes Vergil for a moment. ]
Something like asking someone on a date. Or for accompaniment to a shared, interesting experience--the worst they can do is say no. Your heart may hurt for a time, but it will heal, and life will continue on. One mediocre experience shouldn't be enough for you to want to spend the rest of your life alone.
[ you need at least 18 years of being on the outside looking in on everyone else before you can join Gilgamesh in the die alone club, scrublord, and you have a kid somehow. ]
Why be ordinary, when you can be extraordinary? Why be alive if you're not going to live? Chase joy, Vergil Vittore. [ he's gonna pop a tomato slice into his mouth and talk with his mouth full because something needs to ruin the moment before his head explodes of well intentioned, heartfelt emotions. ]
See how a handsome, four-legged supernova can enrich you for the low cost of a little honesty and vulnerability. If he's still willing to flirt with you after you jumped out a window on him, you may as well start talking marriage, children, and who's keeping your vacation home in the Bahamas in the divorce.
[ too much heartfelt sincerity makes Gilgamesh feel barfy, so. ]
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He sighs, shaking off the feeling of returned embarrassment as he moves to join his friend at the table.
Using a fork and knife on his salad instead of picking it up with his fingers like a hELLION--his attention going from cutting the vegetables into food, to cutting it up to be eaten in sizeable pieces. ]
Being extraordinary is not my forte. I keep to myself, I chase no spotlight. It is Zulius who is good at that sort of thing, not me. [ which is probably why he's so... unsure about this. The Zebra man was such a shining force of positive energy. Why would he want to choose a partner who has difficulty matching his energy? Wouldn't that be disappointing?
...Or perhaps it's a balance they both. Could use. He's tinkering away with the thoughts in his head now as he examines a piece of mozzerella, like it's the most interesting thing in the world; beads of olive oil sticking to the slightly rough surface where it was sliced. ]
...I suppose I could do a date.
Truth be told.
I have already accompanied him on two. [ but they were like. FRIEND dates, not. Romantic dates. So like. god, he doesn't know. Maybe they weren't. He's second guessing himself eight different ways now. ]
I could. Invite him out for dinner. And we can discuss where to move forward from there.
That would be... harmless, yes?
[ maybe a bit boring, but. Vergil's never done this before. ]