perfectmatch | week two

[IS THIS ER*WH*N

Not precisely what he had in mind when it came to... a date, but it's beyond his realm of experiences that he finds it fascinating.]

...Look at this strawberry.

[It's a free sample, and he holds it up to offer it to Messmer. Bright and pristine, and these guys are crazy for handing them out for free because it's probably one of those 20-dollar strawberries.]

Try it, O Prince. Too rich for my blood.

[ where the hell are they for real!!!! He feels dreadfully exposed under the fluorescent lights, and all of the food items are alien to him - provided they're food at all. One has to assume, based on the produce nearby. The winged serpents cling close to his body. So much for hoping he'd have a peaceful (or, at least, private) chat with Verso.

Sorry to the producers for paying for free samples of $20 strawberries. ]

Thou hast received it without charge, [ he comments quietly, plucking the fruit from Verso's hand while the snake near his shoulder uncoils enough to get a closer look. It appears normal enough, other than being large... which means it looks even more normal when Messmer is holding it. Hmmm. ] ... I recall thy penchant for sweets.

Edited 2025-06-10 04:06 (UTC)

[Poor Messmer. Even Verso’s easy-going nature finds this place… very alien and distracting. He’s not used to crowds the way he used to be, either.

But he takes it in stride. His casual mask is one so easily worn, though he finds it less necessary when around Messmer, perhaps because he hopes to make him sincerely comfortable with the circumstances surrounding this show. (And maybe due to an unexpected mote of fondness, too.)

There is an outdoor area for seating, at least, to accommodate those who want to snack on their purchases. Maybe they’ll take advantage of that later, because he was hoping to have a more private chat with the man, too.]

Matches your hair. [The strawberry. 🍓] Give it a try, see if you like it.

[Do snakes eat strawberries, he wonders?]

I do like sweets. Pastries. Viennoiseries. It’s one of the things I miss about Lumiére.

[ matches his hair... he huffs. ]

Unexpected tastes, for an expeditioner such as thee.

[ one can't help imagining him as more of a hunting-and-gathering type, but there is something mildly charming about a rough-and-tumble mercenary hankering for little cakes...

It's not the first time he's eaten a strawberry (I googled where strawberries are from to check if they could reasonably exist in fantasy British Isles, please clap), but it is the first that's both giant and obtained from a dubious source (this supermarket.) He has no concept of how expensive this one is, either - 20 runes is almost nothing - so he eats it without much aplomb at Verso's urging, leaves and all. It's good, certainly; the sort of thing a clueless noblewoman might snack on, he thinks. But Messmer's heart is much too deadened for something as simple as a tasty piece of fruit to elicit any sort of reaction. At least Verso got to see his cute fangs?? ]

[He shouldn't stare, but he doesn't do it out of disgust or morbid curiosity. There's simply something unreal about watching a man of Messmer's stature consume a strawberry, though Verso realizes belatedly that watching someone eat so intently might come off as rude — or worse, lewd. (He definitely notices the fangs, though. Fitting for a man who calls snakes his companions.)

Mesmerizing. That's the word. Wait, is he named "Messmer" because of that and the snakes, or...? Should he joke about it...? No. Maybe not. Verso clears his throat, reining in his thoughts.]

I wasn't always an Expeditioner, you know. I was more or less a normal person before my mother went missing.

[That awful turning point in his life, and Messmer might be able to infer it certainly has something to do with him taking up the mantle.]

Anyhow, why don't we pick out a few things to eat and then sit outside to enjoy it? It's quieter out there, anyway, and... I wanted to discuss a few things with you.

[ if Messmer notices Verso watching him so intently, he chooses to ignore it, only looking back his way when he clears his throat.

A missing mother. His brows raise ever so slightly. What a strange coincidence - perhaps fate really does draw like to like. Verso's mother sounds more unwilling than his own, at least. The thought draws barbs across his heart at once, scratching at the same old scars, and Messmer does his best to push down the ache. ]

I have no preference in taste. Choose victuals as thou likest, and I will partake. [ he rubs a thumb against the corner of his mouth, wiping away some illusory remnant of strawberry. ] ... Thy mother wert taken by the power that scourges thy lands, I presume.

[The tale of his mother is one that dredges up grief and even a bit of resentment, but all of it’s tangled up in familial love. Family is indeed… complicated, and he’s purposefully sheared away the details every time he’s spoken of her. But his discussion with Wei Wuxian has prompted him to tread into the discomforting territory of honesty, and Verso thinks this might be one man he can practice it with. For practical reasons, too; for the sake of the game.]

I’ll tell you more once we sit. Come on, then.

[Verso takes it upon himself to lead the other to the hot and cold food bar. The array of food on display is impressive, and they’re spoiled for choice — and not constrained by a budget since production is paying for it.

So he picks out an array of things, enough for a full mean and then some, but he will at least request one thing.]

Okay. Mon ami, you have to pick one thing for yourself. At least. Then we’ll eat.

[ talking more about it once they're seated sounds like a good idea; this grocery store is overstimulating. Everything is so brightly-colored and loud. Messmer following after Verso like an enormous lumbering duckling is surely a sight to behold, but, in truth, he's grateful not to have to pick his own way through the aisles. It would be all too easy to stumble over someone (or something) while his serpents are distracted.

The food bar at least has items he can recognize in it rather than colorful packaging. A lot of it is still cuisine unfamiliar to him, but he knows what roast bird looks like. ]

... Very well.

[ his height makes this a somewhat awkward endeavor, but he successfully manages to put a small variety of chicken dishes in his little container - curry, fried, grilled. Predictable for a snake-y man? Maybe. It seems like he might have some preferences, after all... ]

Let us quit this place. [ a beat. ] ... What name didst thou call me?

[Messmer's height is always going to draw glances, even if he didn't have snakes at his side, but Verso deflects any looks with a big, lopsided smile as they wander around, turning self-consciousness back onto any gawkers. It works, and they quickly avert their glances.

In the meantime, it seems that Messmer is a fan of chicken! Maybe a little predictable for a snake-y man, but also weirdly endearing. Verso takes note, in case they ever find themselves eating out again (if this can be called that).

Once they've gotten their food ready and paid for (Verso always got them both overpriced smoothies because he thought they looked pretty, he's a simple man), he leads them to the outdoor seating area. He finds the biggest table available for Messmer's sake.]

It means "my friend" in my language. Je veux vous en dire plus sur moi! That means, "I want to tell you more about myself."

[He sets what he carries of their meal down.]

Because I think we're more similar than you realize on first glance.

[ Verso is doing his best to keep him comfortable, unbidden by Messmer - from the food to the table to his attempts to dissuade undue staring. In truth, Messmer doesn't care about any of these things - he's long since grown comfortable with his own discomfort - but that only makes Verso's efforts more heartfelt. Now Verso calls him his friend. It's not the first time he's been faced with a level of caring that feels undeserved; it's not even the first time he's received it from Verso. He wishes the kindness would move him, but the numbness inside doesn't recede. Happiness is still a shore he can only catch glimpses of, adrift in the gray sea of his hopelessness.

Verso's mother tongue is quite beautiful, he thinks - musical - but says nothing, taking his seat in silence. ]

Two men, bereft of their mothers. We share that commonality.

[ he gingerly picks a strip of grilled chicken from his fashionably compostable hot food box between his sharp nails, holding it up to the snake curled over his shoulder to eat. ]

[He sits, and he can't help but watch the snake be tempted with grilled chicken. Again, it's mesmerizing, but it's also... cute. His affection for his reptilian friends feels like viewing another mote of kindness underneath the weight of sorrow Messmer carries.

He thinks about asking if he can pet the snake? ~~for the bingo card~~ But that can wait.]

Not only that. But would you like to hear more about my mother first? How her love became... its own kind of curse?

[He's sure he can tell that tale. He's brave enough to. Messmer, of all people, surely would not judge him.]

[ The snake goes ahead and starts swallowing the piece of chicken, which is possibly less cute, but cuteness is in the eye of the beholder?!

The bluntness with which Verso sets his story forward is somewhat surprising, as is the degree to which his short description of it resonates with Messmer. Part of him absolutely does not want to hear this. It sounds too familiar, and his own story is still something he's struggling to accept. Yet, as much as he wrestles with denial, the very fact of his coming here is a step forward towards -- something, whatever the outcome might be. And Verso has been nothing but kind to him. There's no room for cowardice. He's many things, but Messmer has never been a coward. ]

If thou wishest me to hear it, then I will listen, [ he replies, voice softened slightly. ]

[Messmer might not know it, but this is an act of courage on Verso's part, too. It's a part of him that he's not been keen to share with anyone, and he told himself it was to avoid needless complications in finding one's match, in playing this game as efficiently as possible — but the reality is, besides from emotion starting to get tangled up in the whole process, he was scared. A part of him has always been scared to face the truth of who he is, his fragmentary sense of identity, and oblivion had always been more appealing besides.

...He unearths his food, idly. A slice of cheesecake. Yes, he's going for the sweets first like a grown adult.]

Well. [Suddenly struck with the inane feeling of being unable to know where to start, despite having given it thought beforehand, he pauses.] After the Fracture, it was like I said: my mother had gone missing, and I joined the very first Expedition to seek those who might've gotten lost in the chaos. It was a... perilous journey, but along the way, I discovered something about myself that I could hardly believe. Something that didn't make sense.

[(After Clea found them, and explained the truth, she had also tried to... kill them, and thus the revelation.)]

I was immortal.

[ if Messmer wasn't so dead inside, he'd find Verso's immediately going for sweets to be quite charming. Alas...

It's a strange story to hear. Not because it's unusual, but because - for an inhabitant of the Lands Between - it's painstakingly normal. Everyone is immortal where he's from, provided no one tries to kill them. Given Verso's apparent age, it's unlikely he's referring to a lack of Destined Death; Messmer has to extrapolate that he must have had a brush with death of another kind.

Maybe he's got some kind of divinity, too. ]

Many are those who would envy thy discovery.

[ he's not included among those, of course. He's sure Verso has seen his profile and knows that Messmer, too, is immortal - though perhaps not to the degree he is, given what Messmer's inferred. ]

[He finds he can’t do much more than scoff at that, finding some irony in it. Verso finally takes that single bite of his cheesecake, and though the flavor is wonderful, he’s not focused on that for now.

Before he continues the tale-]

Suppose that’s nothing too grand a revelation for someone as old as yourself. But a human isn’t supposed to live that long. To watch your friends and companions die from the dangers of a new, damaged world, while you live on, no matter the injury, is… not a fun existence. It hollows the soul.

[Ah, but he’s getting ahead of himself. Verso clears his throat, and he continues with an apparent hypothetical.]

We found my mother, eventually. Would it surprise you to learn that she was the reasoning for this sudden “blessing” of mine?

It would not. Curse and blessing alike are carried in the blood. If thou wert not given life eternal by an outer source, then thy parentage must holdeth blame.

[ Marika might not be cursed, herself, but it's plain to see that her offspring are ripe for it - he's far from the only one. Verso is from another world, but Messmer sees no reason not to believe its laws are similar to his own.

Moreover... he thinks he can see the endpoint of this tale. A mother's desperation to preserve her child's life through any means in a world where death is constant and unpredictable - the points are easy to connect. But he won't take the words from Verso. It would be unkind. ]

... Thine age outstrips thine appearance by some length, I presume.

[A mother desperate to preserve a child's life—yes, in the end, that is the overarching tale, the greater problem. Maybe that facet isn't hard to guess at, but Verso somehow doubts Messmer would see the upcoming twist in the tale.

The part that's hard to admit to. The part that he still struggles with, unrelated to the trials and tribulations of being immortal when no human should be, in a world where death is doled out so frequently.]

By some length. Nowhere near yours. I'm a hundred years old.

[He takes a breath, then exhales it. He's forgotten about his food; in his mind's eye, he only sees a trail of words he should speak, and how to surmount them.]

My mother, she was never who we thought she was. I don't wish to compare her to yours, but in a way... she might as well have been a divine being in that world. She had the power to create whatever and whoever she wanted, to cope with the loss of her son in another reality. She could make an entire new family if she wanted, to escape the way grief had torn apart her other.

[He loses Messmer's gaze, drifting down to the table.]

So she did. A perfect family, with a son who didn't die in a terrible fire. Just a copy of the real thing, with nearly the exact same memories. That was... me.

[ such a complex story from a man whose life had seemed quite simple until now. Messmer listens, and privately thinks to himself that this isn't the kind of conversation they should be having outside this strange bazaar - but such is life. He gets the sense Verso hasn't talked about this often, if ever. That Verso would tell it to him, of all people...

Well. He can see where Verso might have seen similarities between them. ]

... Thus thou wert given eternity to spend on a life not thine own.

[ Is he not human? Messmer thinks of Ringo, or of Ranni - old souls in new bodies. But Verso seems distraught enough by outliving his human peers and by not being the human he thought he was, and Messmer imagines asking him would only distress him more. ]

No man chooseth his birth, nor the path he must trod. [ having swallowed the piece of chicken, the winged serpent has stretched out over Messmer's shoulder and down to the table, where it winds its way towards Verso and his boxes; Messmer ignores it. ] Yet thy mother hath made hers alone.

[ a beat. ]

Wert thou loved?

[Needless to say, identity is a matter of inner contention with him. Esquie would assure him—in his own, whimsical way—that he was still his own person, a different person, than the original Verso. And in those moments, it was a kindness to believe him.

But now, so departed from that world, and often lost in his own head, he’s come to doubt it. There’s a lingering self-hatred there, too, that he cannot completely shake, and while it’s certainly not a feeling he’d wish on anyone… he does feel that Messmer would understand, too. A man who bears a different curse of his own, but burdened by it all the same. A man with a no doubt complicated relationship with his own mother.

That question, though…]

I was. Intensely, deeply.

[He’s still looking down, and he watches that crimson snake drift into his periphery, near his boxes of food. He hardly minds it; the serpent can do whatever it likes if it’s curious. He watches it, tapping his fork idly against one of his boxes.]

But that’s not always such a good thing. That love fueled her delusion, made her run from her grief. Forced me to fill the shoes of someone I’d never be able to live up to. Someone I still can't. [It was… unfair.] And if she remained in the false reality of my world, then she would’ve been driven mad. Eventually.

Edited 2025-06-13 00:12 (UTC)

[ A love that must end - for her health, for her future, because to exist together for too long would surely doom her. This, he understands, and he hates that he understands it; he wishes that he didn't know what this felt like. The details of their situations differ quite a bit, but their sense of betrayal is surely similar.

Betrayal. Dare he give it that name? Messmer doesn't want to consider it; he lets his focus shift to the serpent's, looking up at Verso from its place on the table. It doesn't make a move for the food. Instead, it merely lingers nearby, unblinking eyes reflecting his image back up at him. ]

And what choice didst thou make, when you saw her once more?

[Such a regal-looking creature, looking up at him calmly. Verso places his plastic fork down, then offers both hands close, palms-up. He can’t tell if it wants attention, or simply wishes to observe, but he doesn’t mind giving it a choice. It grants him focus in the here and now, when speaking of the recent past isn’t easy for him.]

My team… my last Expedition. We finally found a way to reach her. Needless to say, she didn’t want to return home.

[She had even declared she wasn’t going crazy.]

So we fought her, defeated her. Forced her to go back.

[ the snake's tongue flickers, and, after a moment, it slithers towards his hands, placing its head in its palms. There's a twitch in Messmer's fingers, but he ultimately does nothing to stop it, merely curling his hand into a fist. ]

Verso, [ he says gently, his voice hissing slightly on the S, ] thou art brave indeed.

[ He knows that if (when, some little part of him insists even now, when!) he sees Marika again, he would kneel before her without question - he'd pray to receive her blessing, her love, her approval. Verso had the strength to confront the truth and tear himself from the path his mother had laid out for him. Now he has the courage to speak it aloud. It's admirable - enviable, even. Most days, Messmer can't even bring himself to think about it. ]

[…Despite the topic at hand, it’s a cute moment. He lets the snake’s head just rest there for a moment, then gently strokes its head with the pad of his thumb, feeling the smoothness of its scales.

The fondness for this red reptile, while still present, will take a backseat as soon as his reply leaves his lips. Messmer seems to think him admirable, and that requires correction.]

It wasn’t bravery. It sounds like the end of a grand quest—

[And there is more to the story, something that might paint him as truly wretched, but… maybe that’s a tale told later.]

—but in reality, it was selfishness. I was tired of being miserable. I loved her, and I ached for her, and I still miss her, but… in the end, I wanted to rest. I wanted to be free of it.

There layeth thy courage, though thou acknowledge it not. Such is thy nature.

[ Thou hast done what I cannot. Of course, he doesn't say that - he doesn't even linger on the thought for more than a handful of seconds - but there's a solemnity to his expression that wasn't there before. The snake is a snake; it doesn't react outwardly to Verso's ministrations, but it also seems perfectly content to continue receiving them, idly flicking its forked tongue.

To choose freedom over love is a brave thing, indeed. ]

Yet, my counsel is mine alone. [ if he doesn't think it's brave, then he's entitled to that feeling, too. The situation is complicated - much too complicated for Messmer to decide he knows best. (He rarely does.) ] ... A grave matter thou hast entrusted to mine ears, for sake of "similarity."

[ it sounds ungrateful, once he's spoken it. ]

Friend. It shall be kept close.

[And Verso is perfectly content to continue petting it. He's only ever owned dogs, but he's always been fond of animals. Messmer's snakes seem gentle enough as long as they're treated respectfully, but one could say that about nearly any creature.

Friend.

Coming from Messmer, somehow, it feels like a milestone. He doesn't know why a weight lifts itself from him, as though it were not relief enough to have merely told him something difficult from his past — but it is a relief to have it accepted, and to win a simple, but meaningful, title of friend. Finally, he lifts his eyes to meet his gaze.]

It means a great deal to me that you think so.

[That he's brave. Verso will never very kind to himself, but it's easier to try to believe others, instead. It means that maybe he's doing something right.

His lips can't help but quirk wry, though, feeling the need to add-]

I wanted to point out something similar between us, so you... don't feel alone during this entire time. And that you feel like you belong here; if I do, after all, why shouldn't you?

(no subject)

anathemaw - 2025-06-14 01:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

reverso - 2025-06-14 01:53 (UTC) - Expand

week two | dates

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sib the e33 spoilers will probably increase with each tag i'm sorry

a small price to pay for verso cr...

no subject

no subject

flatviewers i'm begging you please avert ur gaze from these spoilers

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)