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“Been a while since I’ve been here. Of course, last time I was chasing down the stalact that tried to flee from the horrors of my polished feet. Raw terror had captured the beast, as it saw ME. It was fast, but I was faster, and it was taken down without a sweat.”
Monoco says this confidently, even as the creak in his joints point to something more ominous. This gestral doesn’t fear a measly piece of stone.
He isn’t afraid of that look in his lover’s eyes, either. So unafraid, in fact, he puts his hand on Verso’s shoulder and shakes him slightly to see it fade into the background. “The resting ground is just up ahead. It won’t be much longer now until we make it there.”
If Monoco notices Verso’s masked smile, tight and uncomfortable, he doesn’t say anything.
Both of them know it is an act of kindness, that Monoco doesn’t comment on the shift in atmosphere.
It was obvious, really, that he had noticed the mannerisms of his love. While he would not normally allow Verso to sport such a look, the gestral isn’t that cruel. He will simply have to beat it out of him and give Verso’s mind a clean slate.
Either battle of swords or Will would work. If it meant his love took that haunted look off of his quite pretty face and got the spark of joy back, Monoco would walk into Gestral Village without begging Golgra for an invitation.
Doing that would be a death wish. Not something he’d ever admit, but a death wish. You did not beat Golgra, you merely entertained her while trying not to get smashed.
Monoco would never admit that he was terrified of her, but anything for Verso would be done.
“Are you sure you’re in the right direction, mon amour?”
Verso turned to the gestral, with a teasing grin on his face. The glint in his eye was rather forlorn, even at the expression of joy.
If gestrals could show emotions, Monoco would be sporting a look of grave indignation. The mere fact he thought Monoco didn’t know where he was going was ridiculous.
“Of course I know where I’m going, mon blaireu,” he responds with no hint of the acid that usually accompanies the insult. Verso’s grin seems to grow.
“The last time we were here, I remember that Goblu chased you down and you were thrown-“
“Not true.”
Verso shakes his head fondly, and Monoco can’t help but chuckle a bit himself. The jingle of the bell and the crunch of leaves underfoot become their company once more, a comfortable and warm silence.
It doesn’t last long.
“Say, Monoco…”
Verso trails off, Monoco’s curiosity piqued at the non-question.
“Do you remember the time we had to fight that swarm of Demineur and they carried you off?”
Monoco freezes slightly, and grips his cane. The small jingle of the bell is all the encouragement Verso seems to need, to Monoco’s horror.
“Was quite the sight, that one. Even Esquie was stunned. You were pani-“
“I was NOT panicking. It was a perfectly normal reaction to the situation.”
Monoco’s not a small gestral, either. To be lifted physically by a swarm of measly insects was an insult to his pride that had not quite healed. That Verso would even mention such a thing-that Monoco reacted perfectly fine to, mind you-was a grave offense.
“Verso, do you think so little of me as to believe that I was afraid of those insects?”
Monoco takes a pause, before he gestures his staff to the side. If it so happened to hit Verso with a clang and there was a hiss at the impact, that was of no concern.
“You, of all people, should know I have honor in a duel.”
Verso shakes his head fondly, stopping in his tracks to look back at Monoco. With a small head tilt, he pauses. When he sees Verso’s grin, Monoco steps forward, staff at the ready.
“Right, how could I forget that, mon amour? Every gestral knows your strength and bow down to you,” Verso teases gently, a soft lilt to his voice. “Except Golgra. She still hasn’t given you permission to come back, right?”
A change of topic, then. This is an acceptable outcome. He snorts a bit, fur slightly blowing outward. The ‘fuzzball’ look, a classic. A look that must be respected and honored for decades to come.
“Of course not. Even AFTER I sparred with her, she wouldn’t let me in.”
After I got crushed went unsaid.
It is a grievance that Monoco had to live with for many decades, and it still feels as fresh a wound as it did all that time ago.
To be utterly humiliated and disgraced was not something gestrals took lightly.
The difference now, of course, was that his heart was dedicated to staying with Verso. If that meant he could not go back to his place of birth, he would not be upset.
If that meant he would get this time with who was most important, Monoco would willingly give up anything.
Not excluding some of his spare Nevron feet.
Verso knows this dedication too, as his gaze turns fond.
“We’re almost there, mon amour.”
Monoco nods, as he takes point once again.
“Let’s keep going. I won’t get my well earned spar with you if you are too stuck in Verso land to notice my glory in full action.”
Verso snorts in laughter, and the gestral finds his heart to be a bit lighter. This trip, after all, was to be faced with a might of steel.
The few minutes that were spent walking in silence felt charged-anticipation and fear alike in the air. Monoco slows his steps slightly, to allow Verso to walk with him side by side.
As it should be.
If he hesitated before making his way into the barren clearing that had snuck on them during their conversation, that was only for him to know.
The clearing’s lighting gently beamed on Monoco’s wooden figure, similar to a hug. Not as good as the hugs and snuggle sessions with Verso, obviously.
Nothing could compete with cuddle sessions with Verso, as was natural.
His attention turns behind him, where he greets a sight he knew he would see, but still causes his heart to ache.
Verso, frozen and pale.
It was expected, and it still rattles his framework to see Verso’s regret painted so obviously across his face.
It isn’t like Verso to act like this. To openly show his emotions as he was now.
It’s with slow steps and setting down his cane that Monoco approaches his love. He does not speak, not yet, simply holding his arms forward.
Verso doesn’t notice, his ice blue eyes glazed over with barely contained grief and memories of a man who was dead. It was…disheartening, as Monoco cautiously came forward into Verso’s personal space.
With more courage than Monoco would ever admit he needed, he hugged Verso gently. Wooden fingers found themselves cradling Verso’s head, threading through the slightly wavy locks slowly, reverently.
The reaction from Verso was so sudden that Monoco was startled, but unmoving. Verso started to wail, harsh sobs rippling his frame and causing a slight rattling in Monoco’s frame. Terrible roars of grief, of rage, all collapsed into Monoco’s hold, as he shifted slightly. Verso hadn’t noticed the adjustment to get more comfortable, wails echoing into Monoco’s neck.
Horrible things that did not belong to Verso.
The gestral found himself clutching Verso tighter, tucking his head in the nook where shoulder met neck, fluffy fur tickling Verso’s face. It tragically suited this fool to break down at the sight of a lone gravestone.
If Monoco was tearing up, no one would know. He was made of sterner chroma than that.
The wails turned quieter, even as Verso’s frame trembled from the overwhelming emotion he was feeling.
“You are a fool,” Monoco starts, but Verso doesn’t give him the opportunity to finish his thoughts.
“I’m-“
A hiccuping breath, as Verso shakes. Monoco finds himself speechless, fighting back emotion himself. He wants to interject once more, only for a watery laugh and raspy voice to speak up once more.
“I’m sorry, Monoco. I’m so sorry for existing.”
Softly, Monoco murmurs to Verso a reply that came out much steadier than he felt.
“Without you, I do not have what I cherish the most.”
Verso’s sobbing continues, a slew of apologies and mumbled admissions of blame he held and wasn’t his pouring themselves out for Monoco to hear.
Verso did not deserve to hurt. Not like this. He does not even need to look to see the pure horror, the regret, the sadness etched into his very chroma. This world was built on broken promises and grief.
And he was forced to bear the brunt of it, simply for existing. He knows this, and Monoco is hapless to stop it. Mighty gestral he may be, but punching doesn’t fix this kind of problem. Verso taught him that much.
“You idiot, carrying all of that,” he admonishes, a waver in his voice that he would deny was ever there. “You absolute fool. This isn’t your burden to bear.”
Verso’s shaking doesn’t cease at that, but it does subdue itself slightly. Good. This was the outcome he had desired.
“Do you hear me, you fool?”
Monoco pauses to take a deep breath, willing the emotions and hurt he is feeling for his love down into his wooden frame. Just for long enough to speak the words Verso needs to hear.
“This, none of this, is your fault.”
His voice cracks on tears anyway, a few stray tears that refused to remain bottled up slipping free. If Monoco was crying, if he was shaking slightly as he held Verso close, that was for him and him alone to know.