So Wicked a Game

「this world is only gonna break your heart」Ind. Vincent ValentineEst. 08/14/2022✦Read the Rules

[lovelornverse]

There was this look in your eyes Like fire burning to take flight A distant call from the sky Beckoning you to flee the night

lovelornverse is an independent rp blog for Vincent Valentine from the FFVII universe.

Expect heavy remake & original game influence and inspiration.

crossover friendly, multi-ship, & largely plot-driven.

✧ Always chill & always welcoming of memes, asks, and dms. ✧

「Rules | About | Verses」

[lovelornverse]

It's a good outfit, tbh.

[lovelornverse]

Some times, you have to make an executive decision and spring clean a blog.

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

Of course it had been a change. The understanding came to him late, in a way that didn’t still feel quite right, that Shera had left some time ago to work on parts of the rocket not yet shipped out of Junon, and shortly thereafter, the threats began. Some guy he apparently snubbed for the astronaut’s program was losing his damn mind over Cid’s name being plastered all over ShinRa’s displays and wanted the engineer to know he wasn’t safe.

Admittedly, the pilot didn’t think the threats held water. And if they did, he was at least strong enough to handle the matter himself - or so he’d say a few beers in. But, ShinRa had other plans, and the Turks sent Vincent Valentine in to look after him. Protecting assets and secrets and all.

Yeah, sure, whatever. A big change. But, that wasn’t what he meant.

But then, Vincent mentions feeling as though someone was watching and his gaze slips toward the doorway, a scowl on his features - until the touch of the other’s hand brushes against his cheek. That hardened expression softens slightly in the seconds their skin meet, but when it’s gone it goes back to as it always was.

“… I ain’t feel good about none of this,” he says, “Just don’t feel right. Like somethin’s gonna happen. Felt it right since I woke up.” Slowly rising to his feet as he wraps a rubber band around the schematic, he hunts for his folders and files, shuffling them all into one space.

When he looks back to Vincent, he stops - and he stares. Again, something just isn’t right. His hair should be longer, his eyes shouldn’t be so dim in their color - what was going on here?

“Maybe we should call an’ reschedule with the President. Figure out what’s goin’ on, in case somethin’ happens.” He suggests - a rare sign of apprehension from a man who charges headfirst into everything. When’d he learn that?

As Cid's eyes fall upon the doorway, as blue eyes gaze at what is an unusually pristine home, walls, floors, there is a distinct but subtle coppery scent in the air. The pale doorframe slowly gains red stains on the surface, near to the floor. Slithering thin red stained fingers cling to it. Gripping it, clawing forward a dark mass of...something. It flickers out of view, but stains remain. Then a slow fade away, as if absorbed by the pristine surface.

Whatever or whoever is watching seemingly gone in the blink of an eye.

But Vincent looks at him in disbelief, perhaps shocked even- to hear the man ask for a rescheduling of a meeting he had been waiting for months. It was all Cid seemed to think or talk about before. He gives a faint annoyed sigh, but shrugs, "If that is what you want, I'll give a call. It'll be up to you to make the report however. The President doesn't care for delays, but I'm sure I can think of a suitable excuse."

As he walks past, he pauses to regard the engineer with a subtle frown, peering over his shoulder and idly pulling at his bangs again, "...what makes you think my hair should be longer?"

It looks like the Turk wants to protest further, or ask other questions- everything about Cid seemed off where the engineer found everything else to be fully tilted. But as he takes a breath, bloody hand prints start to paint themselves along the floor, in a trail behind him. Rapidly covering ground even-

[garrandia]

baby blue 

wanted to practice w clothing but vinnie got in a way so heres some of them thingy¬¬

[weirdlypersonalrpmemes]

PROMPTS I’D LIKE TO RECEIVE, PART 1.

⤿   headcanon memes; comfort character edition!   tw: death, family, religion.    

send in a symbol and i’ll answer the corresponding question about my muse!

[ 🧱 ] how would you describe your muses’ morality? what are their core values?

[ 🌎 ] are there any aus you have for your muse? what are they like, and how is your muse different in them?

[ 😱 ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?

[ 🤝 ] how does your muse approach intimacy? are they hesitant, or do they like it? what types of intimacy do they like and dislike? (ex. physical intimacy, sexual intimacy, emotional intimacy, etc.)

[ 👪 ] what is your muse’s relationship with their parents like? was it always this way?

[ 💍 ] does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?

[ 🏆 ] is your muse multitalented? what are their hobbies, and why did they pick up these hobbies? if they don’t have hobbies, why don’t they?

[ 🐱 ] does your muse have pets? did they have pets as a child? how do they feel about animals?

[ ❌ ] is there something your muse struggles with that they might never overcome? what is it? why do they have so much trouble with it?

[ ✨ ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

[ 🌱 ] what themes are relevant to your muse?

[ 💀 ] has your muse gone through anything traumatic? if so, how has this trauma affected them?

[ 💛 ] how empathetic is your muse? how compassionate are they? is this something people expect from them, or are people surprised when they find out how compassionate or empathetic they actually are?

[ 👗 ] what is your muse’s fashion sense like? are they able to dress the way they want to? what would they wear in an ideal world?

[ 🔮 ] what is your muse’s relationship with religion and spirituality? were they raised in a certain religion? have they stuck with the same set of spiritual beliefs all their life, or have they changed over time? are they settled in their spirituality now?

[ 🤷‍♀️ ] how does your muse approach strangers? how does this compare to how they interact with close friends or lovers?

[ 🎵 ] is there a specific song or songs you associate with your muse? why is that?

[ 💸 ] if your muse had no shortage of money, what would they buy?

[ 🐺 ] does your muse like solitude? do they prefer it to being around others? how easily does your muse get lonely?

[ ⚰️ ] what are your muse’s greatest regrets? what would flash before their eyes when they’re on their deathbed?

[ 🧸 ] does your muse keep anything sentimental? if so, what do they keep and why?

[ 🙏 ] what does your muse need? this can be something material or something abstract.

[ 📚 ] what books does your muse have on their bookshelf? what books would they like to have? if your muse isn’t an avid reader, is there anything they collect or might like to collect?

[ 😍 ] does your muse believe in true love? why or why not?

[ 😇 ] what would your muse do if they became a god?

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

Leaning against the railing of that balcony, Cid stares out at the sight laid before him. For a brief moment, he’s overtaken by it all, overwhelmed by the sheer distance in time between this second and his last ones, so long ago. Vincent hadn’t told him how long it had been yet, but to lay his gaze upon that distant building, once towering and cold, covered in greenery, in trees and leaves, tells him enough.

It was a very, very long time.

Vincent’s hand finds his wrist, and Cid briefly glances down at the sight before he looks back out again. The sky was so blue, so much bluer than it had ever been back then - Midgar was always gray, from the ground up. What a world he had woken up to.

“Yeah. I figure I should.” If this was what had become of Midgar, what had become of Rocket Town? What of … everywhere else, for that matter? How had the world fared, since his last years? Was it everything they’d hoped for? Was it everything they’d worked for? Maybe Vincent can tell he’s absorbed by his thoughts, because he draws him out of it by a touch against his waist - and Cid turns willingly, leaning down (leaning? Was he taller now?) to press his lips to the other’s.

His own hand rises, catching the man’s chin with it, and he tugs him in slightly to kiss him deeper, and then deeper still. It’s as much intimate as it is catching up on all those lost years, all the time that Vincent had been left alone. While it seemed like he had done fine for himself, that didn’t stop the engineer from feeling a slight pain at the idea of him with no one else for all this time.

“We’ll go to dinner,” he murmurs, so close their lips continue to brush, “We’ll do whatever y’want. I got years to make up to you.”

He never thought he would miss these small affections. In their first life together, Vincent had thought he surely got as much love as one man could or should handle. But now, he felt so selfish for wanting Cid all to himself again. And he didn't- wouldn't- resist it again. There had been subtle regret in allowing himself to live so restrained before. But gently, he felt the shyness make him ache from the intimacy the other man pressed into their kiss.

There would be no stopping him in this life.

Gently, he touched Cid's chest, fingertips seeking the strong beat of his heart. Their lips so close, red eyes staring into blue so familiar and new, and he pouts, "...you're taller than me now." Then a slow smile as he embraces him in full, "Years and years to make up between us. I have so much I want to show you."

And a tenderness in his lips and the touch of his hands, that he didn't think he was capable of in all these long years. But it grows more and more bold, reaching to hook him close, flush hip to hip. "Before anything else, I want to know...if you can love me like you used to," he whispers before taking another kiss from his lips- heated, passionate and as intimate as he press to his lover's lips.

It stays there, in his hands, his affection, urgency he didn't realize had been buried, passion that makes his pale frame tremble. All the love he had kept hidden for so very long, spilling over as he remembers all the long nights alone. Only now to have him back.

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

It was so very strange to hear Vincent say those words. ‘When you were alive.’ To know he lived and died and now lived again, that not only could one live immortal, one could simply be brought back in a way that felt as easy as casting a line out to sea to catch a fish. All you would need is the right bait; it seemed for Cid that bait was not the promise of the stars, it was not the knowledge of a do-over, it was something as simple and as warm as the man he had loved.

Every kiss makes him feel alight, puts the little hairs all over his body on edge but in a way he would trade for nothing, and he wants more, more, more. While he feels as though Vincent would give him all he’d ask for - he remembers him saying as much - Cid decides not to be so selfish here, least of all when Vincent slips that ring from around his neck and puts it upon his finger instead.

The moment is quiet, comfortably silent, as he watches him put his own ring back on, and before their hands come together, he flexes his fingers against the sight and huffs a slight laugh in disbelief that he was even here again. That he could have even one more minute on this earth by Vincent’s side.

God, he really had gotten old and sentimental, hadn’t he?

The other mentions sleep, and Cid immediately barks out a laugh. Peeling himself up, though planting a kiss to the immortal’s lips as he goes, he swings his long legs around and stares around the room. “Sleep! I’ve been dead an’ asleep for how fuckin’ long and you think that’s what I want to do right now? Fuck’s sake, Vince.”

Getting up, he makes for that open door to step outside, to feel the air upon his skin once again after so long. “I’ll sleep later. If you’re tired, though … go on. I’ll just … look at everythin’.”

As the other man leaves, Vincent lays there alone. He didn't want to sleep either, but there was concern that Cid should rest. He had just woken up, after all. Instead, he watches him go- a smile on his face that wasn't burdened by anything at all. And to hear him say that he wanted to look at everything, made Vincent smile. May as well follow and see how the view suits Cid.

Outside, it's early morning and the sun is still climbing over the cityscape of Edge. The stars are winking out for the day, one by one. But further away from it all, is the sight of Midgar's ruins and especially the remains of the Shinra building. Overgrown, cast under tree and vine, spreading out like a wave against a landscape that had regained most of its color. The ocean gleams in pockets flooded by changes in the shape of the surrounding land.

It's still quiet enough, but the sounds of the city are coming alive again. Everything feels at once new and old, cleaner and less downcast. Windows shine the sun back as people prepare for their usual routines. Life still goes on, as it did when they were fighting to save it from slipping away. But this time, it's peaceful. Everything feels focused towards bettering the world around them, more so than it did before.

For a time, Vincent stays back to watch Cid and let him see what all he feels taking in. But after a while, he approaches, to catch him by the hand gently. Not to pull him away as long as he is enjoying the sights, but to stand with him and also look around.

"See everything, as long as you like. You should walk around the city again. So much has changed, as I'm sure you know," he speaks just over the wind that surrounds them up here, "...you should also go home, see it with your own eyes." A moment to squeeze Cid's hand, hoping he knows what he means by that, to see Rocket Town again.

"...maybe, soon, we can go out for dinner again," and for once, there's something selfish there, a gentle, but slightly urgent request. To spend more time with him, "But for now-" And he doesn't hesitate this time to pull him close, catch Cid around the waist, to kiss him there, under the blue sky.

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

The answer he’s given isn’t the answer he wants, and it shows in the way the engineer grumbles and looks down at his plate. For the first time in a long time, the man doesn’t wolf down his breakfast, and leaves half of it on the plate as he abandons it at the table.

“… Launch grounds, I guess.” Trailing his hand against the table, he spares a glance to Vincent and feels a strange, upset tug in his chest at the fact that the man hardly looked at him. And when he did, it didn’t feel the way he wanted it to feel. His own gaze falls to the hands of the Turk at the table, and he briefly registers that they are both not gloved, and pristine - they were not scarred, and Cid thinks that they are supposed to be.

Had he gotten too drunk that night?

“M’gonna go review materials.” Heading for the garage where his worktable sits, he stares at the desk and the papers laid out over it. Paperwork strewn is and isn’t familiar - it’s something he was working on once, he knows this, yet somehow it’s strange to see it now. Like looking at an old friend. Slowly, the man sinks into his chair and pores over a plan that he’s certain he made, but in the back of his mind he registers the pencil, the graphite, it’s too fresh and new – he’s certain when he was working on this, he’d spilled coffee on the corner, and yet there was no stain.

Was he misremembering? He felt as though he’d just awoken from some terribly long dream, and now nothing looked familiar.

“… Vince,” he calls as he turns in his chair as he lifts up his schematic, rolling it up carefully, “D’you … feel like somethin’s up? I dunno, feels weird in here. Tell me it ain’t just me, right?”

The Turk had to have an idea, right? He had to notice?

Briefly, there's a moment's glance spared to the meal left half eaten on the table. A frown crosses the Turk's features and then a sigh, as he rubs his eyes. The newspaper is folded and left on the table. May as well see that everything is in order, even if the engineer wasn't eating well.

While Cid disappears into his garage, Vincent takes the time to pull on his tie, adjusting it as a jacket is thrown over his arm. Everything in order, everything in its place. As it should be. As always a pinnacle of professionalism, as far as fashion goes. Even if he might be going easy on his current assignment. He wondered, when that started changing.

Whatever it takes, to keep him in line and working as he should towards the project goal, he was told. He wasn't meant to do much more than that.

Picking up his pistol, pristine silver and black casing, he went about hiding it in its holster. But all the while, there was a strange feeling. Something did feel off, but he couldn't tell what it was. Eyes following, shadows around the corner- just an overreaction of a mind too focused on finding flaws and enemies in everything.

But he found himself aiming at something, hiding over his shoulder, staring intently at him. And then, it was gone. Gone...?

He shook his head and found himself following Cid's trail back to the worktable. The question- it throws him and he can't find the answer immediately. Strange...he usually had an answer for everything, "Hm? What do you mean? I know- it's been a rough change over the last month. But it's been like this." This being the rather peaceful morning so far, "...I...mn."

"I thought I felt someone watching but...I think they're gone," and he offered the touch of the back of his hand to Cid's cheek. It's brief...but perhaps the only moment that he gave away caring more about the man than the assignment since Cid woke up.

[peonrin-deactivated20231127]

Smile, buddy

[whiitemateria]

caress [your muse ], patch + reverse

— ( 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 )

As Vincent lay still on the floor, the only tell that he's still alive is the wet rattling of his throat as he takes in each quiet, burdened breath. Aerith kneels at his side, her hands pressed firmly against one of his wounds as the magic from a single green materia attempts to envelope the gaping hole in his chest.

Something had been ripped out of him, stolen, and all he had managed was to stumble to her apartment, a trail of blood disappearing in the rain that fell - how fitting - as his wet cape met the wooden floor of her apartment first, then the rest of him in a thud as she gasped and fell to his aid.

She didn't know how to help him, not really - he hadn't even the energy to tell her what happened. All he could do is stare up at her wide-eyed and trying to find the words, but the blood filled his throat and threatened at the corner of his mouth, making him look all the paler than he ever had before.

"It'll be okay," she says, desperately, because she wants to believe that it'll be okay, "It'll -- it'll be okay!"

Her phone sits discarded at her side, a text sent to everyone she could, a hasty thing en-masse to anyone who she thought could get there soon; Cid, Cloud, Tifa, Reeve -- 'Vincent needs help, please come.' It's beeping, ringing, vibrating there untouched because she wouldn't dare take her hands off of him, even as the red stains her fingers, sinks beneath her nails, sullies her pretty pink dress.

Oh, but he's still rattling, wheezing; there's a quiet shifting as his arms move with great struggle, and Aerith watches with wide eyes as he clumsily hooks the claw of his gauntlet under the wrist of his glove. Peeling the glove free, his pale and slender fingers, untouched by the blood he lay in, moves in a shaky haze through the air to find her face.

Almost every moment the two had spent together, she always found he was so much warmer than you'd expect him to look, like he housed the very fires of hell in his chest, but in this single, harrowing second, Vincent Valentine is ice cold.

But his touch moves cautiously, brushing his fingertips against the curve of her cheek, touching at the lightest freckles where the sun had began to kiss her face now that she no longer lived beneath the plate, ghosting along the fringe of brown hair. His knuckle presses against the edge of her lips, but rises still, to swipe away tears - it's fruitless, they both know it, because they keep coming. Still, he tries.

His mouth opens just enough, willing himself to swallow down that blood, and he mimics her softly, in a voice that sounds so distant, "It'll be okay."

This is where his hand drops, and she finds his silence has stolen her voice from her.

[bigbrawl]

volumes

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ]

Cid has never been a particularly vigilant man. He was smart (a genius, even, by some metrics,) detail oriented, capable of paying attention to the slightest of clues when the spirit moved him - but vigilant? Hardly, not unless they were in flight.

Watching their backs was a job often left up to Vincent or Cloud, men whose eyes could see farther than they should. So, Cid never bothered to learn to really pay attention to his surroundings. Vincent, obviously, found this a good thing - he could stare at the engineer almost all day without him noticing, without so much as a hair raising on the back of the focused man's neck.

Today is no different, with Cid bent over a project in his garage, brow furrowed as a magnifying glass sits between him and the minute details of a schematic he was putting to blueprint, and Vincent upon a lounge chair they'd dragged in because sometimes, love was doing your own things in the same room.

Occasionally, they'd talk to each other, but usually, it was Cid working and Vincent reading whatever had grabbed his attention.

This time, though, Vincent has opted to set his book down against his chest and let his vivid eyes skate across the garage, from the oil stain that marked the spot his truck used to take up to the lances on the wall, and then, over to Cid's back hunched over his desk, that lamp shining bright on his details and putting a light sheen of sweat against the back of his neck.

His hair falls over his face and occasionally, a calloused hand pushes the strands back, swiping away the sweat from his forehead where it gathered here, too, to wipe it off on his jeans and grumble that the lightbulbs were so damn hot when he had them next to his face. His shoulders shift, the muscles beneath his blue t-shirt just visible enough to the eyes that one can tell how well-kept the man was, his hands, so harsh and rough, focused on such small motions with his pencil - Vincent saw it all.

It's only once Cid lifts his head up to offer himself reprieve from these schematics to breathe in deep that he finally, at last, seems to notice the eyes on him. When he looks, casting his gaze over his shoulder, Vincent is still staring.

It used to be that they'd never meet eyes, too ashamed to be caught lingering on one another. But now, Vincent is unabashed, refusing to hide the feelings that burned in the depths of his eyes. It's at once soft and sharp, his expression both empty and all too full - Cid feels sheepish in the face of it.

Despite the slight embarrassment coloring his ears, the pilot sets his pen down and rises from his chair before crossing the distance between them to bend over the lounge, using his hands to leverage himself upon its back and arms, so he can catch the gunman for a kiss.

[whiitemateria]

D ─ Dreams. [tho not necessarily with my muse, but ... ;> ]

— ( Sexy ABCS )

For Aerith - at least, in our AU thread - a lot of her attraction to Vincent comes from the growth of their emotional connection, but the act of coming to have feelings for him has led to her having a few ... thoughts. What are dreams if not incredibly vivid thoughts?

The dream would come to her but she wouldn't think it's a dream at first; Vincent has appeared in her home before, unprompted, though somehow in this instance he's so much taller than she remembers, and he was already so tall.

She thinks he says her name, because his mouth moves, but he's swept across the room like he's part of the shadows themselves, and then he's over her. His eyes are burning and his hair is everywhere, pooling around her and she feels like her hands get lost in it, or maybe he's just wearing too many layers of leather and fabric - and she's not wearing enough, because she can feel his non-gauntleted hand gliding up beneath her nightgown, along her thigh.

Everything feels too warm, like the room's on fire, her bed's suddenly made of hot rocks, and when they kiss, it's worse than ever. You'd think as her nightgown hikes up around her waist she'd cool down but she doesn't. She's whispering his name like a prayer, she can't believe they're so close and that he wants her, and he's trailing kisses along her jaw, her shoulder, lower and lower, until the shadow of his figure passes past her waist; she doesn't know when he took his gloves, his gauntlet off, but his hands are bare and slender and they're hiking her legs up, she can feel the breath against her, and suddenly --

... she's bolting upright in bed, staring wildly into the dark as she swipes at her face like it'll make the blush go away, like someone's going to see it.

She will not be telling Vincent.

[lovelornverse]

whiitemateria:

Though Aerith had been hesitant to step into the light, now that she was here she would embrace it fully; to start small would be against everything she had become. Perhaps when she was younger, when she had first left Midgar, she would start small, hop from village to village on a dotted local map, but now that she had experienced life and death in such a short cycle, now that she had been pulled out of her own caution, the flower girl would take to the adventure posed in front of her.

Laid there against him, she watches as his arm comes around and settles over her shoulder. Of course she had put him in the position to do it, but it still pleased her that he didn’t push her away. Slowly, her arm sneaks underneath the blanket to curl itself in against his side, across his stomach, and she nestles in as if she were ready to go to sleep.

Mostly, she just enjoys the closeness.

“Is there?” Aerith asks softly. She wants to prod more about it, to have him tell her exactly what to expect. “You’ll have to show me, then. Even if it’s … not joyous.”

Given the fact that it was her place of birth, somehow, Aerith thinks it has something to do with that. With her mother, perhaps. Her eyes flutter shut, and she breathes gently the scent of him up close. If Vincent could face the uncertainty of Lucrecia, then she could, too, face something that isn’t so pleasant - especially if it taught her more about where she came from. Sometimes, it felt like she would rather leave it behind, but then … sometimes, she wanted to know.

She’s as comfortable as she can be before his talk of taking photos spurs her into action, a great smile crossing her features. “Yes! We’ll take so many pictures.” She holds her hands up, thumb and forefinger extended in a mock camera shape as she looks at him, one eye closed. “And you’ll be in some of them, yeah? We’ll take a bunch. And we’ll make … a scrapbook! Of all the things we do together.”

It crossed his mind, as he mentioned what Cloud and the others had found in Icicle Inn, to speak up, "...know that it involves your father. If you were ever curious or still are." And for that much, he leaves the matter alone. He'd speak more about it, if she wished to hear more, when on the road again.

There was a certain comfort, he realized, in facing the difficult realizations with someone else. To talk and influence one another through matters that, if faced alone, would surely lead to pain too terrible to surmount. Without Aerith, he may have tried to escape into another kind of sleep, buried at the bottom of some waterfall's basin.

But her enthusiasm and quiet way of staying close- like sunshine passing through the time of day and a clear window, is infectious. And he can only laugh in that rough way of his, as she gets into the vogue of photo taking with her fingers gesturing, "...maybe, if you can catch me in the lens fast enough. Or you'll drag me into frame, as I am sure you will, when you find some place you're overly fond of." It was both a prediction and an accusation.

But there's a snort at 'scrapbook' and then a sigh, like he could deny her either, "Then I suppose its another day at the Kalm market then. We'll grab all the materials so we can plan our trip and the scrapbook. Could use another coffee while we're at it."

May as well embrace it, this strange adventure that was laying ahead of them.

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

Without complaint, Cid lets Vincent peel that shirt off of him, the fabric giving way to the skin beneath. Unlike his first body, this one is nearly pristine, lacking in all the hardened and silvery scars that signify all the adventures he’d taken part in over the course of his life; he is fresh and new, and he even feels it in the way he moves and breathes.

It felt good, to be touched again. It wasn’t as though there had been a lack of it later in his life, but somehow, it feels different here; perhaps almost reverential. A younger Cid, one who did not want to be honest about his wants and desires, perhaps would shy away from the way that Vincent touched him so tenderly, so lovingly. This one, though, who is both too old and too young to care about such things, just preens quietly under the familiar touch of a lover.

“You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, “how confident I were when I was a boy. Don’t sound any different than the way I was back the first time I went t’college …” He leans back in when he’s able, to kiss Vincent again; first, on the cheek, the jaw, and then on the lips again. “You liked it though, eh? An’ here I thought all you liked about me was my bad attitude.”

At being told he can’t pull the mathematics out on the age card anymore, he kisses the back of his teeth and sneers at the man however briefly, “Yeah, now you’re an old bag o’ bones, ain’t you? Remind me t’add skeleton to the list of things I call you.”

It’s all spoken in jest - there’s a fire in him he hasn’t felt in so long, now. It isn’t wanting, not in a sensual way, but simply, he was alive. A spark fanned into a flame, let back out into the open. If he would have this second chance, if he could have more than just this morning in these blankets and would not disappear when his eyes next closed, he would become a wildfire, if he was lucky.

“Missed you,” he murmurs again, softer this time.

A moment to simply enjoy the touch of each other, body to body, hand to hand. All he wanted was to breathe and rest and know- or hope- that everything was and is as it should be. Both of their shirts cast aside on the floor and for only a moment, a shyness to see that now, he was the only one with scars. But that is ok- it meant that this Cid, young and new to the world, didn't have to suffer. Shouldn't have to suffer.

His hands hold him again at the waist, smiling fondly at that thin line. He wouldn't speak it aloud again, but he enjoyed the fact that the table had turned. He could hold him now, playfully pull him close. But so tenderly, he just wanted to kiss him and be kissed. The touch to cheek, the jaw, the lips has him melting into it, hoping dearly he's not dreaming.

He caught him by the cheek, to stare eye to eye, "...when you were alive, I longed to see you at ease as you are now. You grew into it, showed that boyish affection, but you always seemed troubled by it some times..." Another kiss, as tender as before, "...your bad attitude, everything rough and mean, the tenderness and affection. I loved it all, but I wanted your confidence too, at ease in your own skin."

"The loving confidence, that is," he says with a small smile, "Call me whatever you want, hell, I miss you calling me a vampire or a witch...skeleton is almost cute."

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he gently loosens the necklace around Cid's neck and frees the ring there. Catching it in the palm of his hand, he pulls his hand close to slip the ring back on. And then does the same with his own.

"...I'm glad you're home again," he says, holding their hands together, bumping forehead to forehead with him again, "Don't go, at least not for a while, ok? I'll wake you up again, if you fall asleep."

[lovelornverse]

bigbrawl:

It really wasn’t right.

Blue eyes glance around, and though his mind is in a particularly hazy fog, he knows that something is up. Peering at the living room on the other end of the kitchen, he stares at the TV, and it’s way too new - there’s no dust at the corners, no broken antennae from years of fumbling.

Then there’s Vincent. Cid almost doesn’t want to meet his eyes, because something about them isn’t quite right to him. Nothing was right. That word, right, wasn’t even right - because it was his house, he knows it’s his house. That was his bed he’d woken up in. That was his sofa, this was his table. So, why did it feel like everything was just, wrong?

Staring down at his plate again, he runs his tongue against his teeth and then looks back up.

“… Escortin’ me?” He asks, head canting – the longer Vincent talks, the more it really just doesn’t make sense. Granted, some part of him leaps at the idea - funding, a new engine. The thought of looking out that window and seeing the rocket right where he’d left it is tempting, but he doesn’t budge an inch. He somehow feels he knows better.

He also feels he has no idea what’s going on, even though he can’t remember the day prior. There’s the memory of smoke and blood, and a vague pain in his side - though as he’d seen in the shower, there was nothing there - but he can’t put his finger on it.

Except for one thing.

“Your hair’s too short,” he says, all too matter-of-factly, like his opinion mattered to a Turk.

It's a lovely morning, really. The skies are blue, barely any clouds to be seen through the window of the kitchen they sit in. But that perhaps continues to add to the feeling of uncanny newness. But all the same, Vincent remains as detached and calm as he ever is or was. Perhaps even more so, as if he has no real attachment to the man across the table, save the job he's currently on.

"Escorting you, yes. I think you also forgot you picked up a 'secret admirer' during your training phase for candidacy. They've been sending threatening messages for months," he flips a page, idly scanning the news as if it has answers of its own, "I was called on to make certain you remain safe until the rocket is ready for launch." Another flip of the page as red eyes- strangely not as vibrant as they used? To be? Or perhaps never were- look up and regard the man across the table.

But at the observation of his hair being too short, he seems to just freeze and stare at the man. It lasts a half minute too long, but then there's a snort, "What? My hair could stand for a trim, I think." A hand, not scarred, picks up the bangs that lay across his cheek and lets them go, "Pretty sure I'm two months overdue, Cid."

"You must've drank too much last night. After the meeting, we'll see about fixing that, hm? I think a work out will help or we can go inspect the launch grounds- you seem to enjoy that for fresh air," a shrug as he goes back to reading the paper as if it might be the most fascinating thing in the room.

[lovelornverse]

i like elves and elf accessories