perfectmatch | week two

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?

Hmph. 'Tis no petty matter of belonging.

[ yes, he doesn't belong, but he doesn't really care about that, beyond not being interested in bogging some poor romantic heart down with his presence more than is required to win the game. Verso's intentions are good, of course, but once again, Messmer feels the magnitude of his wicked deeds is underestimated by everyone around him. It would be best for him to speak on it; at the same time, it feels like bringing up the true nature of his leadership and army would be spitting in the face of what Verso just told him, grinding a boot down on his fragile trust. The inevitable can be postponed a little longer. Evidently, both of them have time to spare. ]

Our similarities doth fade quickly past the surface. [ instead, he decides to offer some information about himself in return - an eye for an eye. ] Well cursed was I born - a wretched first child, full possessed of evils meant to fell her. Yet, Mother did raise me with full love. Her gifts she used to heal me, and by her grace doth my soul persist. I suffer this farce merely to once more hear her voice. That is the wish I would make.

[Not a petty matter of belonging. Maybe not, but Verso believes that Messmer can't possibly feel happy being detached from the group. Feeling as though he is other. But maybe that's presumptuous of him. Maybe he's projecting. But he's such a sorrowful soul, and Verso cannot rightly believe that anyone wants to be lonely, no matter their reasoning for being here.

Our similarities doth fade quickly past the surface. Well, he has no reason to doubt Messmer on that, but he wonders why he says it. The following remark about being cursed is neither new information nor does it run contrary to Verso's "curse" of immortality and copied identity in sentiment... so maybe it's something else?

...He really does love his mother, though. And it sounds as though she loves (loved?) him, as well.]

That wish is as valid as any other. [ ... ] But just because you're here for a different reason, that... doesn't mean you have to be lonely while doing it.

week two | dates

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

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