[He doesn't know if he'll even earn a reply. For a moment, he thinks not. But then Declan speaks, revealing a bit more about his circumstances, and suddenly the oddity of learning through letters alone seems to make... a bit more sense.
But, unsurprisingly, he doesn't want to talk about it. And V is not sure why he truly wants to pry, other than the ability to relate, even if it's only distantly. Parental... hang-ups were at the core of why Vergil acted the way he did for so long. Only recently have those knots been unwound, and only with great effort. His hands still feel raw from it, sometimes.]
My own situation with my parents was unorthodox, to say the least. That's the only reason why I wonder after others who might share in similar... complications.
[Plucking something else out of his carton now, just a leftover vegetable.]
But we can move on. To whatever else you'd like to discuss.
[ "Complications" is such a kind word, and the wry, almost bittersweet tilt of Declan's lips seems to suggest as much. But he's requested they move on, and move on they shall.
He turns his attention to the device in his hands, reaching up automatically to bring a pair of magnifying lenses down over his eyes. ]
For now, just watch a master at work, hm?
[ Declan would rather focus on doing something with his hands, anyway. And he doesn't need magic to be very good at what he does. (He got a whopping 29 on this tinker check okay.) In record time, he has the tattoo gun in pieces, strewn out over the work area. ]
[Move on they shall. V just tilts his usual grin at him in return, though it lacks its usual acerbic edge.]
I am prepared to be awed.
[And a 29, huh. V finds that he is, in fact, actually a little awed to watch him take it apart. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man’s hands work so fast and deftly. And that’s saying a lot when you’ve had Dante’s itchy trigger finger firing infinite bullets at you before—
Look at all those little pieces.]
Poor, dissected tattoo gun. From something to nothing in record time.
Edited (help I can type really ) 2023-05-11 04:23 (UTC)
[ Declan is beaming, having pretty effectively pushed their earlier conversation to the back of his mind. One more item sitting in the pile of Things He Doesn’t Talk About, left shuttered away, hopefully never to see the light of day again.
Work is always a nice distraction, and this work is especially intriguing. He is at once discovering things with the sense of wonder that comes from newness and having memories flit back to him. He’s doing this for the first time, but he’s done this a dozen times before, too. Those are the memories he’d rather focus on and lean into. A second lonely childhood he could do without.
He looks up at V, lilac eyes comically magnified through the lenses of his goggles. ]
The pieces are just as important as the whole. Without even one of them, the whole thing would cease to function.
[V would argue that’s not an entirely healthy way to go about it, my guy, but they did touch on that briefly before, didn’t they? Things that are left to fester will catch up one way or another; either all at once, or insidiously, culminating over the years of so much neglect.
…But! For now, they’re talking about a tattoo gun taken apart, right? That’s totally what they’re talking about.
And yet.
And yet those words still strike him rather unexpectedly, finding their home in a different context altogether — though Declan would of course not realize this. The pieces are just as important as the whole. He knows this, of course. He forced his way back into his whole self just to prove that point, to fix himself. To make him even stronger than before. He wasn’t just cast-off weakness, he was a pillar holding the entirety of the self up.
But sometimes, there’s still a whisper of doubt. The belief that his value is only directly attributed to what he’s supposed to be, not what he is. It’s a tangled mess, that’s what it is, despite being mostly resolved. He supposes here, though, he has to deal with it all over again.]
[ Declan has no way of knowing what's going through V's head, and if there's any trace of it passing over his face, he's too distorted by Declan's lenses for him to notice.
So he just goes back to his work, idly motioning with a screwdriver. ]
It's like I like to say: never underestimate the importance of something small.
[It's fine. V's just pulling his attention to the inside of his takeout box, which has next to nothing in it now, just sort of picking up little stray noodles with his chopsticks.]
I take it you're unfamiliar with the poem, Auguries of Innocence?
[One of his favorites. He's already spouted it more than once in this world. Though maybe Declan's false memories might make it seem familiar, he's not sure.]
'To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thr' all its regions'
[If Declan's got the time, he's just going to recite the whole thing, droning on as he works. Afterwards-]
It's rife with meaning. But part of it... is that even the small things can hold an immense, incomprehensible importance. That there's beauty in even the most fragile of balances.
[ Declan does have the time. While he's often prattled on to Lucy while he's been in the middle of tinkering, he's never had anyone around who talks back. It's a lovely poem, melodic, and V makes it easy to listen to while he works away.
When it's over, he glances up, this time shifting his goggles up to his forehead so he can look at V properly. ]
Mm. I think I'm beginning to see how you and I ended up friends in this world.
[But he’s setting his empty takeout box aside and rising to his feet whether or not he receives an answer in the process. He won’t take his cane, because this isn’t a long trip—]
No need. There’s a fridge in the back full of “fizzy drinks.” I’ll fetch something for us.
[Hm. He supposes they do share that belief in common, most especially now. Maybe such an idea resonated with him when he was younger, and thus he committed its entirety to memory; but he's sure he lost sight of it in his later years, only to loop back around to this belief once more. Funny how that works.]
Or maybe I just like impressing others with 132 lines of poetry read aloud.
[He smirks. But then he disappears into the back.
Then he returns, two soda cans in-hand.]
Do you prefer... [Squints. Wry:] "Orange 'n Cream" or "Artificially Flavored Grape"?
[ Says Declan "eidetic memory" Steelsong. He tugs the goggles back down over his face to resume the process of putting the tattoo gun back together. There's a bit more finesse required here so it's slower going.
When V comes back, he's once again treated to the sight of Declan's cartoonishly giant eyes lifting his way. ]
I am deeply intrigued by the phrase "Artificially Flavored Grape".
[ And yes, Declan's outfit for the day is indeed quite purple. He flashes a grin, snapping his fingers as if to produce some spark of magic. Of course, it doesn't work, so he waves it off and plucks up the can instead. ]
Well, of course it does. It brings out my eyes.
[ His eyes which are still cartoonishly huge. He's having a real Mister Magoo moment over here. ]
[ It might be a habit that Declan never breaks, which is fine by him. People already think he’s weird. What’s a little more? ]
Look at you. All that poetry is really going to your head.
[ Another grin. He cracks the can open, bringing it to his lips for a taste. He considers it a moment, tilting his head. Another sip seems to be in order, and so he repeats the process again, this time with a bonus smacking of his lips, like that will somehow help him figure out how he feels. ]
Wow. You can really taste the “artificial” part. But I don’t hate it.
[Oh my god STOP WITH THE EYES, he catches V mid-sip and the sight is again so comedic it nearly has the soda going down the wrong way. He sputters a little, coughing, before he can even hope to raise his can in a toast.]
You- [wheeze] -really need to take those off while we're talking, Declan.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clockworksoul) wrote2023-04-30 08:50 pm
no subject
But, unsurprisingly, he doesn't want to talk about it. And V is not sure why he truly wants to pry, other than the ability to relate, even if it's only distantly. Parental... hang-ups were at the core of why Vergil acted the way he did for so long. Only recently have those knots been unwound, and only with great effort. His hands still feel raw from it, sometimes.]
My own situation with my parents was unorthodox, to say the least. That's the only reason why I wonder after others who might share in similar... complications.
[Plucking something else out of his carton now, just a leftover vegetable.]
But we can move on. To whatever else you'd like to discuss.
no subject
He turns his attention to the device in his hands, reaching up automatically to bring a pair of magnifying lenses down over his eyes. ]
For now, just watch a master at work, hm?
[ Declan would rather focus on doing something with his hands, anyway. And he doesn't need magic to be very good at what he does. (He got a whopping 29 on this tinker check okay.) In record time, he has the tattoo gun in pieces, strewn out over the work area. ]
no subject
I am prepared to be awed.
[And a 29, huh. V finds that he is, in fact, actually a little awed to watch him take it apart. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man’s hands work so fast and deftly.
And that’s saying a lot when you’ve had Dante’s itchy trigger finger firing infinite bullets at you before—Look at all those little pieces.]
Poor, dissected tattoo gun. From something to nothing in record time.
no subject
[ Declan is beaming, having pretty effectively pushed their earlier conversation to the back of his mind. One more item sitting in the pile of Things He Doesn’t Talk About, left shuttered away, hopefully never to see the light of day again.
Work is always a nice distraction, and this work is especially intriguing. He is at once discovering things with the sense of wonder that comes from newness and having memories flit back to him. He’s doing this for the first time, but he’s done this a dozen times before, too. Those are the memories he’d rather focus on and lean into. A second lonely childhood he could do without.
He looks up at V, lilac eyes comically magnified through the lenses of his goggles. ]
The pieces are just as important as the whole. Without even one of them, the whole thing would cease to function.
1/2
…But! For now, they’re talking about a tattoo gun taken apart, right? That’s totally what they’re talking about.
And yet.
And yet those words still strike him rather unexpectedly, finding their home in a different context altogether — though Declan would of course not realize this. The pieces are just as important as the whole. He knows this, of course. He forced his way back into his whole self just to prove that point, to fix himself. To make him even stronger than before. He wasn’t just cast-off weakness, he was a pillar holding the entirety of the self up.
But sometimes, there’s still a whisper of doubt. The belief that his value is only directly attributed to what he’s supposed to be, not what he is. It’s a tangled mess, that’s what it is, despite being mostly resolved. He supposes here, though, he has to deal with it all over again.]
…
no subject
You’re right, of course. An inventor would see the value in all the fragments laid out before him.
[It is nice to hear, though, as simple as that.]
no subject
So he just goes back to his work, idly motioning with a screwdriver. ]
It's like I like to say: never underestimate the importance of something small.
no subject
I take it you're unfamiliar with the poem, Auguries of Innocence?
[One of his favorites. He's already spouted it more than once in this world. Though maybe Declan's false memories might make it seem familiar, he's not sure.]
no subject
[ A thoughtful hum, while he begins the far more tedious work of reassembling what he has laid out before him. ]
The name sounds familiar. I'm sure I've heard it from you before somewhere in these false memories of ours. Why don't you tell me for real?
no subject
...Good thing he does not need it at all.]
Hmm. From the beginning...
[The best place to start.]
'To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions'
[If Declan's got the time, he's just going to recite the whole thing, droning on as he works. Afterwards-]
It's rife with meaning. But part of it... is that even the small things can hold an immense, incomprehensible importance. That there's beauty in even the most fragile of balances.
no subject
When it's over, he glances up, this time shifting his goggles up to his forehead so he can look at V properly. ]
Mm. I think I'm beginning to see how you and I ended up friends in this world.
no subject
Oh? [He finally glances over at him. No more bug-eyes from Declan!] Why do you say that?
no subject
[ Is he going to elaborate on that? Maybe not. ]
I don't suppose this food you ordered came with one of those delightfully fizzy drinks in a can, did it?
no subject
Of reading long passages aloud?
[But he’s setting his empty takeout box aside and rising to his feet whether or not he receives an answer in the process. He won’t take his cane, because this isn’t a long trip—]
No need. There’s a fridge in the back full of “fizzy drinks.” I’ll fetch something for us.
no subject
[ So, in this, they share the same opinion. Never underestimate the importance of something small. ]
Oh, that would be wonderful! Thank you!
no subject
Or maybe I just like impressing others with 132 lines of poetry read aloud.
[He smirks. But then he disappears into the back.
Then he returns, two soda cans in-hand.]
Do you prefer... [Squints. Wry:] "Orange 'n Cream" or "Artificially Flavored Grape"?
no subject
[ Says Declan "eidetic memory" Steelsong. He tugs the goggles back down over his face to resume the process of putting the tattoo gun back together. There's a bit more finesse required here so it's slower going.
When V comes back, he's once again treated to the sight of Declan's cartoonishly giant eyes lifting his way. ]
I am deeply intrigued by the phrase "Artificially Flavored Grape".
no subject
...You're a brave soul.
[He sets it down next to him.]
Purple calls to you.
[It matchies Declan, right-]
no subject
[ And yes, Declan's outfit for the day is indeed quite purple. He flashes a grin, snapping his fingers as if to produce some spark of magic. Of course, it doesn't work, so he waves it off and plucks up the can instead. ]
Well, of course it does. It brings out my eyes.
[ His eyes which are still cartoonishly huge. He's having a real Mister Magoo moment over here. ]
no subject
Looks like someone expected some magic to spark to life — that’s going to be a difficult habit to break, he muses.
But YOUR EYES, SIR—]
Your eyes which are as big as a saucer plate? Which exude the color of… artificially flavored grape? Oh, I rhymed.
no subject
Look at you. All that poetry is really going to your head.
[ Another grin. He cracks the can open, bringing it to his lips for a taste. He considers it a moment, tilting his head. Another sip seems to be in order, and so he repeats the process again, this time with a bonus smacking of his lips, like that will somehow help him figure out how he feels. ]
Wow. You can really taste the “artificial” part. But I don’t hate it.
no subject
V crosses back over to his chair, sitting and popping off the tab of his soda. The can hisses in protest.]
It's nothing but sugar that'll rot your teeth.
[And he takes a sip. His mouth twists a little; oh yes, that's very artificial. But it's better than some things he's had.]
But I don't hate it, either.
no subject
To trying new things!
no subject
You- [wheeze] -really need to take those off while we're talking, Declan.
no subject
He just looks right at V, with those giant, magnified eyes. And slowly goes cross-eyed. ]
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