week four | endgame

[marriagebroker]

After one last night at the estate, everyone is set to big farewell on Sunday morning or afternoon or evening, however long they want to linger until they say their goodbyes.

There will be transportation to send them out of the estate and back to wherever they came from! They will leave just the way they arrived, of course. Taken all the way back home to their respective worlds.

But before that! Everyone is given one smartphone which they will be told can communicate with everyone else, including Wei Wuxian. If they want to call or text or whatever they want. There's already a group chat set up where Wei Wuxian has posted:

Safe travels, friends!

And Wei Wuxian will also share that they are able to travel to each other's worlds. They just need to return to the estate and from the estate, they can leave back to someone else's world. The estate will function as a "hub" of sorts for these travels.

So, farewell, friends! Here's to your perfect match!

Boom Boom Room | Talking Heads | Honeymoon Suite
Love Meme | tl;cr Meme

Comments

[anathemaw]

[ Funny. He'd so strongly wished to dissuade Verso from coming with him for both Verso's sake and his own peace of mind, but, standing beside him now, Messmer can't deny that he finds his nerves eased, if only for a moment. The familiar ache of everything - the serpent's coils, the fire's heat, the yawning chasm of Marika's absence - remains, but here is tangible proof of a change. Though he hasn't been able to steal that hope from Verso for himself yet, it walks with him in the man at his side. ]

Aye. By this miracle I would open the path home. Yet I know not... if such a measure alone will suffice.

[ How will the wish be granted? What kind of path? He can't simply unveil the Shadowlands; it's been so long that the very lay of the Lands Between may have changed, and the reappearance of its lost piece could bring about more death and destruction. And what might follow him back? Worse, what might be waiting there upon his return? There's no way to know. More than a thousand years have passed without a scrap of information from the other side. This isn't a wish he can make lightly.

He glances over to Verso, leaning his weight against the great spear he's planted on the ground. ]

... Thou art bereft of Grace. Thy presence will not be seen kindly by the devout.

[reverso]

[In that same way, Messmer is a steadying presence for Verso, too. The yawning void of an uncertain future is freeing yet terrifying if one thinks about it overlong, and it is good to know that he will not be alone. That he will be with someone dear to him as they both learn how to wring out light in that darkness, even if they have to fight for it tooth and nail.]

Regardless, when you tear that door open, Messmer, we will face together whatever greets us on the other side. I'm ready.

[He knows not what they will face, but this does not change how certain he feels about this decision to fight by his side. He is ready, and his will can only temper itself further in the flames of conflict.

At the Graceless comment, he can't help but scoff a little.]

Ah, well, c'est la vie. If it's light they seek, I can still give it to them.

[Because his magic element is light, get it, haha]

[anathemaw]

[ oh boy. There's a lot Verso will have to learn about the Lands Between... There's no way to know just how different their homes are, but Messmer supposes they'll find out soon enough. He shakes his head gently. ]

'Tis a blessing I refer to, of Mother's... Marika's. [ that still doesn't feel very good to say. He moves past it quickly. ] At once thou wilt be known as an outsider.

[ his word alone will be enough to shield Verso from the worst of it, he hopes - at this point, the troops are exhausted, and the majority of them continue to fight out of either loyalty or desperation. But Messmer doesn't continue this train of thought. Something else piques his interest - something he'd never asked about, somehow. ]

Thy native tongue...

[reverso]

[Mm, he suspected Messmer meant more than just any ol' light, but he nods at the correction, all the same. It doesn't change his feelings on the matter when it comes to traveling to his world, remaining by his side. He suspects he'd be an outsider in more than just one way, knowing so little about the world he hails from, and having to adjust—and fending off the distrust of others, or worse—was always part of the deal.

He nearly says as much, but instead blinks up at Messmer, intrigued by the comment.]

Oui?

[Yes, what about his French.]

Will that be an issue, too?

[anathemaw]

[ Messmer shakes his head. It'll be yet another peculiarity to him in the Lands Between, but he can't imagine anyone would care much about such a minor difference - what you look like and who you pray to are far more defining characteristics than the language you speak. ]

... No. It hath a pleasing melody.

[ in other words, Messmer thinks his French sounds nice - an admission he makes rather shyly, if only by slipping it into the middle of this conversation where he thinks he can hide it. ]

Yet its meaning eludes me. I would know what words thou callest me by.

[ Verso occasionally refers to him with terms he doesn't understand. He might have just done it now, but Messmer truly doesn't know (still, despite the high percentage of French people in the household). ]

[reverso]

[Oh... cute. Messmer thinks his native tongue is appealing. HE CAN'T HIDE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CONVERSATION, VERSO TAKES NOTE OF IT-]

Oh, I guess I never did tell you the meaning of most of it.

[Sometimes it slips through unintentionally, little words here and there, but he can think of one phrase that perhaps Messmer should be made more aware of than the rest.]

And I guess you should know what I've been calling you, now and then. Ma flamme. "My flame."

[He knows there is an irony to that choice, but it is not one that he chooses unkindly. He would rather take the negative connotations of Messmer's cursed fire and turn it into something good.]

My light burning bright in the darkness.

[anathemaw]

[ knowing Verso's been referring to him by his curse does indeed cause him a small twinge of shame, despite knowing full well that Verso's doing so without any of the negative connotations; after all, it's something he's spent his entire life resenting, trying in vain to get away from. Messmer would have accepted it without complaint nonetheless. Verso doesn't share his background or culture, after all. In this context, it's no more than an innocent nickname, free of malice.

It's when Verso explains it that his feelings change. Gone is that guilty pang, replaced wholly by a squeezing feeling in his chest, as if the winged serpents were suddenly trying to constrict his heart. Verso's paid him many a lofty compliment, but the others, perhaps, weren't quite so personal as this one - and so harshly juxtaposed against Messmer's own thoughts. The idea that someone could look at him, actions, attitude and all, and see hope -- it's beyond "foolish" or "mad" or any of the other reproaches Messmer's given him these past four weeks. It's enough to make him suddenly feel quite fragile. The same light he'd been chasing in Verso, Verso sees in him.

For once, Messmer's stony veneer cracks; he gazes down at Verso with an expression of modest disbelief, some tender emotion just beneath the surface. He has nothing left in this wretched shell to offer anyone, he'd thought - not hope, tears, or love - but for the first time -- for a moment, he feels like, maybe, he might be... ]

Verso... [ his voice is soft and slightly wavering; his grip on the spear loosens slightly so that he might sink down onto one knee, come to his level. The two serpents stretch out affectionately towards him, and this time, Messmer does, as well, extending a hand to rest at his hip. ] My dear Verso... For thee I will strive to burn.