Ah, but Vil! The dangerous side of you is what makes you so truly beautiful.
[The edges so sharp they could get anyone who dare handle him without care. The thorns to his rose. The poison in his apple. Using the tools in his first aid kit, Rook takes care to make sure that no shards of glass remain in his hand before beginning to clean it. Healing magic will erase any potential scars, of course, but only if the wound is properly treated first.]
I have a hard time believing you've been dishonest with him up until now.
[What he'd give to have witnessed it: Vil's very first spat with his significant other. To be a fly on the wall in that most intimate of times. As always, Rook's far too chipper about a rather rocky subject...but he's always been peculiar that way. In any case, he softens as his rugged hands treat Vil with such precise care.]
Just the same...you did try. May I ask: what was the result you hoped for?
[Hearing those words, there's no way Rook can do anything other than voice his truth. It's always his way, but perhaps not always in too bold of speech. Voice quiet and full of weight, he stops his work.]
Non, my beautiful Vil. You are enough.
[He is no fool for craving something that so many strive for. For struggling to see himself the way others see him. If he could take away all of Vil's pain, he would, but even suffering...he is so lovely. Rook knows that through this storm, he will come out flourishing all the more.]
And passively wishing for an outcome isn't you, my tenacious queen.
[With the hand that wasn't holding Vil's bloodied one, Rook reaches up to boldly brush the tear from Vil's cheek, cupping it with reverence. His gaze is fond, perhaps even a little heartbroken himself--as if experiencing Vil's very emotions as his own.]
Ah, but has he made that decision, or have you made it for him?
[Vil, so beautiful and yet so tortured. Always admired but never seen. Well, at least by most. Returning to his task of healing, Rook pulls a small potion vial from his kit and unstoppers it, pouring it over Vil's wounded hand. The sanitized wound begins to heal rapidly.]
There, now. Monsieur Magicam has had a drop of your poison. Let it seep in, and he shall see how his stomach fairs tomorrow, non?
[No thanks necessary between such good friends. Beaming, Rook puts the first aid kit back together and closes it, jumping to his feet.]
To be allowed to witness such sincerity, directly from your heart...that beautiful sight is more than thanks enough! Ah, I'm still captivated!
[Anyway. If Cater Diamond really does break the heart of his Queen, he'll simply have to hunt him down. Until that happens, it's all simply the ups and downs of love.]
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Silently, he offers his hand.]
What do you think? He got too close.
You know better than anyone what danger comes with that.
[He closes his eyes.]
It's for the best. I wasn't even particularly angry. I was merely demonstrating my true colors.
If that's enough to send him off with his tail between his legs, then best he remove himself from the equation before I can do real damage.
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[The edges so sharp they could get anyone who dare handle him without care. The thorns to his rose. The poison in his apple. Using the tools in his first aid kit, Rook takes care to make sure that no shards of glass remain in his hand before beginning to clean it. Healing magic will erase any potential scars, of course, but only if the wound is properly treated first.]
I have a hard time believing you've been dishonest with him up until now.
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Vil's fingers twitch slightly as the shards are removed, the only indication of the pain he feels.]
Not dishonest, no. But no relationship lasts without quarrels. Especially such an intimate one.
[His gaze is distant.]
I told him I'd break him. And just now, I barely even tried.
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[What he'd give to have witnessed it: Vil's very first spat with his significant other. To be a fly on the wall in that most intimate of times. As always, Rook's far too chipper about a rather rocky subject...but he's always been peculiar that way. In any case, he softens as his rugged hands treat Vil with such precise care.]
Just the same...you did try. May I ask: what was the result you hoped for?
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Acceptance without offense or hurt.
... ultimately, a fool's wish.
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Non, my beautiful Vil. You are enough.
[He is no fool for craving something that so many strive for. For struggling to see himself the way others see him. If he could take away all of Vil's pain, he would, but even suffering...he is so lovely. Rook knows that through this storm, he will come out flourishing all the more.]
And passively wishing for an outcome isn't you, my tenacious queen.
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The following words have a tired laugh following.]
There are many things in my control where I do everything in my power.
Cater deciding I'm worth enduring the poison isn't one.
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Ah, but has he made that decision, or have you made it for him?
[Vil, so beautiful and yet so tortured. Always admired but never seen. Well, at least by most. Returning to his task of healing, Rook pulls a small potion vial from his kit and unstoppers it, pouring it over Vil's wounded hand. The sanitized wound begins to heal rapidly.]
There, now. Monsieur Magicam has had a drop of your poison. Let it seep in, and he shall see how his stomach fairs tomorrow, non?
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I haven't made any decision. I told him to leave... that's all.
[Because he was hurt. Because Vil couldn't stand to see that shattered smile and know it was him who conjured it.
But, if he was honest with himself... part of him didn't expect Cater to return.
His gaze opens again, and his hand flexes slightly as he inspects Rook's work.]
I suppose he shall. Thank you, Rook.
no subject
[No thanks necessary between such good friends. Beaming, Rook puts the first aid kit back together and closes it, jumping to his feet.]
To be allowed to witness such sincerity, directly from your heart...that beautiful sight is more than thanks enough! Ah, I'm still captivated!
[Anyway. If Cater Diamond really does break the heart of his Queen, he'll simply have to hunt him down. Until that happens, it's all simply the ups and downs of love.]