[It's been a rough couple of weeks, to put it mildly. Now that the... unpleasantness... is behind them Fiddleford wants nothing more than to aggressively pretend it never happened at all. He can't erase his mind anymore and he's accepted that after more than two years in this place but old habits die hard. He can at least move on and hope he moves fast enough for it not to catch up to him.
Anyway he has something else to agonize over, like how he is at this point days late for his one-year anniversary with Marco.]
hey hon if you're up to it i've got somethin for you in the living room
[Being able to communicate so effortlessly with just their minds is both a blessing and a curse in some ways, like how they can have whole conversations while sitting three feet apart and never saying a word and not realize. It's silly.]
I, ah.
[Fiddleford sits curled in the living room, his tail taking up the vast majority of the couch. When Marco enters he rises up a little. There is something wrapped in newspaper sitting on the coffee table. It could have been nicer, probably, and he already feels bad that it wasn't.]
I know it's a little short notice and all and we didn't have anythin' planned but, uh. We hit the one year mark a couple days ago and I thought -- I mean I figured I ought to get you somethin'.
[The look on Marco's face at that moment is probably enough to make it obvious their anniversary was the last thing on his mind. His cheeks go red with embarrassment. God, he just forgot? Really? Even the project he's busy with doesn't exactly feel like a good excuse for something like that.
Still, he tries a smile. He's trying it moments after realising there's no way Fiddleford hasn't caught on to the fact that he forgot, but damn it, he's trying.]
Mine's... My gift, I mean, it's probably going to be a little late... Ha. Heh. [He picks up Fiddleford's Mystery Gift and carefully unwraps it, mumbling:] Hope you don't mind.
[Yeah, he... he kind of figured when Marco didn't bring it up for days that Marco had just plumb forgot. He also thought maybe Marco was measuring it different. He's counting from that first kiss, but maybe Marco doesn't consider that the official start of things. For all he knows Marco was going to wait until October rolled around, considering that's when they got their rings.
But that's just overthinking things, isn't it.]
Oh, it's -- I mean I didn't expect... it's fine. If it's late.
[The newspaper peels back to reveal a book. He looked for a long time for something he thought Marco would like: a book on the technological marvels in Bavan's recent history, an illustrated guide to the peninsula -- at one point he considered a cookbook, just as a pointed reminder to Marco that he still thinks eating is important regardless of whether it's necessary.
Eventually he settled on none of them. Instead he's selected a romance novel, because he knows Marco has a soft spot for them. It's typical Ryslig fare: a human falls in love with a monster, shenanigans ensue, and eventually the monster is cured via the power of love.]
I hope it's a good one. I skimmed it and it seemed nice enough.
[Oh. Oh, geez, he's blushing again. You'd think it might be silly to get embarrassed over your boyfriend knowing you like to read this kind of stuff when your boyfriend also knows what you like to get off to, but hey, go figure.]
Uh-- Wow.
[He checks the blurb on the back cover. These monster romance novels... He may have peeked into one or two back home, before the day he found out monsters were very real. Now they kind of... feel different, huh? Now he gets to put himself in the monster's shoes.
He realises that maybe he's been quiet for just a little too long, so he takes his eyes off the book and smiles at Fiddleford.]
It's lovely. Thanks. I'll, ah... I'll let you know how it goes. If... that's something you might be interested in.
[That blush is a good sign, he thinks. It means things aren't too odd between them even after the events of the previous couple of weeks, which is good. They're resilient. It's one of their best qualities, always has been.]
Oh, sure, I'd like that.
[Romance novels aren't exactly his genre but they're a thing he could share with Marco, certainly. Couples ought to have things like that, he thinks. It's nice. Normal.]
Here, c'mon, sit down. [He pats his tail with one hand in what he hopes is an inviting sort of way.] Sorry, I don't mean to be takin' up the whole couch but y'know it's hard not to.
[He's not even kidding. Marco sits down, and he can't help thinking back to that one conversation they had - the one about making the best out of Monster Things, and owning them, and all that. That was a nice talk. One he's been struggling to keep in mind in the face of some recent events, but still nice.]
I'm sorry. [He leans against Fiddleford's torso.] I've had a lot on my mind lately.
[In his defense, there's always so much going on. He knows how hard it is for Marco to relax, to really and truly put his worries aside. He knows that when Marco says that, despite how often he says it, he really does mean it every time.
He wraps an arm around Marco's shoulders, leaning his cheek comfortably against Marco's hair. It's a little different hugging up on him with the wings and all to deal with but he manages well enough. He wouldn't let a change in form stop him from holding Marco Evangelisti.]
Don't be sorry, hon. I understand. It's been... there's been a lot goin' on. Feels like there's always a lot goin' on. I just wish that didn't make it so difficult to finagle havin' a little while to ourselves more than once in a blue moon.
[Marco takes a deep breath. It's true that relaxing doesn't come easy to him, but Fiddleford helps. His presence, his touch, his whole... Fiddlefordness.
If there's one particular distressing thought Marco has gotten good at blocking for his own sake, it's "what if the Fog God takes him away one day?"]
It would be nice if it all stopped. If we just... finally achieved something. Something more than an obelisk that just got people mad at us anyway.
Aw, now. That was still achievin' somethin', wasn't it? Don't you sell yourself short, Marco. We did good with that. Folks are always goin' to be mad about somethin'.
[He kisses Marco's temple softly. His tongue flicks against the skin there as he pulls back, an affectionate-if-snaky gesture. The way Marco smells now is especially nice. Marco's always tasted good to him but now, as a nephilim, he's even more attractive to the part of Fiddleford that parses everything by how it smells.]
It's why one of us has to remember things like this, right? To balance it out.
[He doesn't mind it being him. He knows that out of the two of them he's the less scatterbrained, which is a new situation for him in all honesty.]
[Marco hums at the kiss, closing his eyes for a brief moment of peace. As it fades, though, his face takes on a somber look.]
It didn't really do much good in the long run. I suppose the thought was-- It was a good thought, but it didn't work out. She's still doing her thing, her things.
But it was a sign. It was showin' we weren't goin' to take it lyin' down, that we would fight back if we could. That's still important.
[He regrets a lot about what happened wit the Obelisk. He regrets that it didn't make a bigger dent, that it set those spirits loose on people who didn't deserve it, that Gregory 2 wasn't salvageable. But he still considers it a net gain because he has to. He needs it.]
And it got us these, didn't it?
[He holds up his left hand, where the circuit ring marking glows bright against his skin.]
That's true. [He smiles fondly; it's hard to argue with that. Of course, this isn't about priesthood - as helpful as its boons can be - but about a symbol of their bond. It's kind of cute, every time he thinks about it: the image of Elias putting on a little pretend wedding for them...
He isn't quite bold enough to suggest it right now, but sometimes he finds himself hoping they get themselves a real pair of rings - and not just because they would look very pretty.]
[Fiddleford would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about the very same thing. Moving in with Marco, in his mind, was as good as a declaration of intent to marry the man eventually. They just... well, they just need to find the right time, and it's so hard to find the right time for anything in Ryslig.]
Me too. Honestly just havin' you here with me still is enough of a present. You don't have to worry about one.
[Wouldn't that be grand? The Ryslig Peninsula, saved. Everyone, freed. Himself, redeemed. He couldn't say he did it for Fiddleford, sure, but he could say he couldn't have done it without him, because it's true.
Happiness and freedom are so close. So close.
He gives Fiddleford an affectionate kiss on the cheek.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Anyway he has something else to agonize over, like how he is at this point days late for his one-year anniversary with Marco.]
hey hon if you're up to it i've got somethin for you in the living room
[It's inelegant, maybe. Okay, it's definitely inelegant. He's doing his best.]
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uh
Coming.
[Surely, there's nothing to the fact that it takes Marco 20 minutes or so to get home. Never mind where he was or what he was doing.]
I'm [Oh what is he doing, he can just SAY it.]
I'm... home?
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I, ah.
[Fiddleford sits curled in the living room, his tail taking up the vast majority of the couch. When Marco enters he rises up a little. There is something wrapped in newspaper sitting on the coffee table. It could have been nicer, probably, and he already feels bad that it wasn't.]
I know it's a little short notice and all and we didn't have anythin' planned but, uh. We hit the one year mark a couple days ago and I thought -- I mean I figured I ought to get you somethin'.
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Still, he tries a smile. He's trying it moments after realising there's no way Fiddleford hasn't caught on to the fact that he forgot, but damn it, he's trying.]
Mine's... My gift, I mean, it's probably going to be a little late... Ha. Heh. [He picks up Fiddleford's Mystery Gift and carefully unwraps it, mumbling:] Hope you don't mind.
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But that's just overthinking things, isn't it.]
Oh, it's -- I mean I didn't expect... it's fine. If it's late.
[The newspaper peels back to reveal a book. He looked for a long time for something he thought Marco would like: a book on the technological marvels in Bavan's recent history, an illustrated guide to the peninsula -- at one point he considered a cookbook, just as a pointed reminder to Marco that he still thinks eating is important regardless of whether it's necessary.
Eventually he settled on none of them. Instead he's selected a romance novel, because he knows Marco has a soft spot for them. It's typical Ryslig fare: a human falls in love with a monster, shenanigans ensue, and eventually the monster is cured via the power of love.]
I hope it's a good one. I skimmed it and it seemed nice enough.
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Uh-- Wow.
[He checks the blurb on the back cover. These monster romance novels... He may have peeked into one or two back home, before the day he found out monsters were very real. Now they kind of... feel different, huh? Now he gets to put himself in the monster's shoes.
He realises that maybe he's been quiet for just a little too long, so he takes his eyes off the book and smiles at Fiddleford.]
It's lovely. Thanks. I'll, ah... I'll let you know how it goes. If... that's something you might be interested in.
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Oh, sure, I'd like that.
[Romance novels aren't exactly his genre but they're a thing he could share with Marco, certainly. Couples ought to have things like that, he thinks. It's nice. Normal.]
Here, c'mon, sit down. [He pats his tail with one hand in what he hopes is an inviting sort of way.] Sorry, I don't mean to be takin' up the whole couch but y'know it's hard not to.
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[He's not even kidding. Marco sits down, and he can't help thinking back to that one conversation they had - the one about making the best out of Monster Things, and owning them, and all that. That was a nice talk. One he's been struggling to keep in mind in the face of some recent events, but still nice.]
I'm sorry. [He leans against Fiddleford's torso.] I've had a lot on my mind lately.
[... It feels like he says that every time.]
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He wraps an arm around Marco's shoulders, leaning his cheek comfortably against Marco's hair. It's a little different hugging up on him with the wings and all to deal with but he manages well enough. He wouldn't let a change in form stop him from holding Marco Evangelisti.]
Don't be sorry, hon. I understand. It's been... there's been a lot goin' on. Feels like there's always a lot goin' on. I just wish that didn't make it so difficult to finagle havin' a little while to ourselves more than once in a blue moon.
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If there's one particular distressing thought Marco has gotten good at blocking for his own sake, it's "what if the Fog God takes him away one day?"]
It would be nice if it all stopped. If we just... finally achieved something. Something more than an obelisk that just got people mad at us anyway.
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[He kisses Marco's temple softly. His tongue flicks against the skin there as he pulls back, an affectionate-if-snaky gesture. The way Marco smells now is especially nice. Marco's always tasted good to him but now, as a nephilim, he's even more attractive to the part of Fiddleford that parses everything by how it smells.]
It's why one of us has to remember things like this, right? To balance it out.
[He doesn't mind it being him. He knows that out of the two of them he's the less scatterbrained, which is a new situation for him in all honesty.]
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It didn't really do much good in the long run. I suppose the thought was-- It was a good thought, but it didn't work out. She's still doing her thing, her things.
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[He regrets a lot about what happened wit the Obelisk. He regrets that it didn't make a bigger dent, that it set those spirits loose on people who didn't deserve it, that Gregory 2 wasn't salvageable. But he still considers it a net gain because he has to. He needs it.]
And it got us these, didn't it?
[He holds up his left hand, where the circuit ring marking glows bright against his skin.]
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He isn't quite bold enough to suggest it right now, but sometimes he finds himself hoping they get themselves a real pair of rings - and not just because they would look very pretty.]
... I'm glad we're doing this together.
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Me too. Honestly just havin' you here with me still is enough of a present. You don't have to worry about one.
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[Wouldn't that be grand? The Ryslig Peninsula, saved. Everyone, freed.
Himself, redeemed.He couldn't say he did it for Fiddleford, sure, but he could say he couldn't have done it without him, because it's true.Happiness and freedom are so close. So close.
He gives Fiddleford an affectionate kiss on the cheek.]
Thanks, honey.