[ "I want you." How absurd - not the first time he's thought that about something Verso said or did, and probably not the last. Why? Of everyone here, why him? He has not shown Verso any special kindness; he himself is strange and undesirable, with a cruel history, although Verso's denied (or matched) those traits. Regardless, there's no reason Verso should be so ready to attach himself to to him after these few weeks. Perhaps it's the desperation of a man with nothing left to lose, chasing the trail of -- whatever happened between them last weekend, seeing something in Messmer that may not truly be there.
Or maybe it's Messmer who's wrong-headed, who is a fool for being blind to something, or everything. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, either. For the first time in a long time, he feels something new: a sort of ache inside. Because Verso is indeed fair and well-liked and much too kind, and he knows that he can only disappoint him. ]
... Sweet fool. [ he forgets for a moment that they're in public; now his voice is quiet, apologetic, and he lifts one hand, tracing his fingers feather-light at the edge of Verso's jaw. His brow furrows heavily, the golden light of his eye dimmed. ] What thou seekest, I am not prepared to give.
[ love, desire, a future - he can hardly even imagine these things for himself, let alone for Verso in tandem. There's still too much he needs to decide. The idea of committing to this now - it's overwhelming. Even frightening. Even so... For the first time, he feels a reluctance to cast it all aside. His mother, and his purpose - he can't rely on either to be there when all else is gone. ]
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Or maybe it's Messmer who's wrong-headed, who is a fool for being blind to something, or everything. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, either. For the first time in a long time, he feels something new: a sort of ache inside. Because Verso is indeed fair and well-liked and much too kind, and he knows that he can only disappoint him. ]
... Sweet fool. [ he forgets for a moment that they're in public; now his voice is quiet, apologetic, and he lifts one hand, tracing his fingers feather-light at the edge of Verso's jaw. His brow furrows heavily, the golden light of his eye dimmed. ] What thou seekest, I am not prepared to give.
[ love, desire, a future - he can hardly even imagine these things for himself, let alone for Verso in tandem. There's still too much he needs to decide. The idea of committing to this now - it's overwhelming. Even frightening. Even so... For the first time, he feels a reluctance to cast it all aside. His mother, and his purpose - he can't rely on either to be there when all else is gone. ]
... Yet, I would ask of thee... an indulgence.