desmond-and-the-dead

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond allowed Thaddeus to move him with ease, his gaze never leaving the other warlock's. Because he could always get lost in those baby blue eyes if he wasn't careful. And he couldn't bear being careful any longer. A decade had been impossible to manage, not to mention the great expanse of time since he was last able to do this. To drown in the gaze of the only person he could ever hope to love for the rest of his life.

And he fell silent in his hold, partly for the sake of being spellbound and appreciative of even that fleeting proximity, but more so for the sake of allowing Thaddeus to speak. Des hadn't allowed him even a goodbye those many years ago, so now he would allow him anything. Because the time was growing all the nearer that he would have to tell Thaddeus everything--no, that he would want to tell him everything. Want to keep him safe with the knowledge of it all, the warnings that would hold.

Des reached out then, the action sudden but tender, taking Thaddeus in his arms, with one hand tilting his chin so that their gaze would meet again. "I'm not going anywhere. I will stay and love you until the breath leaves my body... and maybe not even stop then. You haunt me and captivate me, even in the quiet, even when you're not there." He steeled himself somewhat, catching the rising edge of fear that tugged back such vulnerability ordinarily. This was Thaddeus. He deserved trust, he deserved answers, he deserved everything Des could give him. "I'm not going anywhere unless you're coming with me," he declared, his voice barely above a whisper now. The proximity left their breath to fall on each other's cheeks, longing and anticipating in equal measure, leaving Desmond to wrestle with the last bit of his self control.

Thaddeus stared at Desmond, searching his face for something. At this point he didn’t even know what. There was so much anger, so much rage, so much hurt in him. But he was so tired of it. Tired of feeling all the things except for the one that he truly wanted.

“Well shit.” He exhaled eventually. “There you go again. Putting all this shit on me.”

Desmond was hovering close, but not close enough for his liking. He reached out a trembling hand and caught the necromancer and jerked him closer. “Let’s be clear about something.” He said, pulling Desmond’s head down to his level. “I have never given a damn about the shit you’ve done. Christ… it’s not like I’m driving the righteousness train. I’ve done fucked up shit in my life. I have never judged you for any of it , Des. So what the fuck are you so scared about?”

He cupped taller warlock’s face and gave it a little shake. “I am a slippery little asshole. I’ve been weaseling my way out of trouble since I was a snot nosed kid. The Squall’s are pacifists only because we can run faster than our enemies. Or some shit.”

Releasing Desmond he turned back to his empty glass. Which felt a lot like looking into his own soul. “I’ve never been able to stay away from you. You could leave and come back a million more times and my response remains the same. I’ll never turn you away. I love you too damn much. I just wish you’d fucking trust me for once.”

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond fell silent, in that way he nearly always seemed to when Thaddeus spoke. And even before he saw the pain in his eyes, it was more than evident in those words. The ones he dreaded and expected in equal measure. But still... Thaddeus wasn't quite telling him to leave. But he wasn't groveling either. The grey area that the two seemed to populate upon Des' return to Chicago remained far less than ideal. It made the pitfalls that much harder to spot where Desmond was concerned.

He took a step closer towards where Thaddeus sat, though not anywhere as close as he wanted to be... as that voice at the back of his head insisted he needed to be. But closer all the same.

"I love you. I want to be in your life. I want to be with you until the breath leaves my body... but I forfeited the right for that to be my choice. I don't hesitate or linger here to cause you any more pain than I already have, Thadd. If you want me gone, well and truly gone, you only need to say it and I'll leave. Because I would do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe... even if it was keeping you safe from me." He took another step then, instinctively reaching out a hand to where it would have been able to cup Thaddeus' cheek, but stopping just short of doing so. He let his arm fall to his side again, looking down at the other warlock with a deep well of heartache behind his eyes. "I want you too. But I'm not making any more decisions for you... this one is entirely yours. It has to be," Des reasoned, almost pleading with him now. "But I do love you. Nothing could change that. Not even death."

"You think I know what you deserve?" He snorted, shaking his head a little in amusement. "Des...I don't know shit." Sighing, he stared down into his empty shot glass. "What I wish. Really not that hard to figure out. I'm a simple guy. Feed me, bathe me, rub my belly..." He shrugged. "You on the other hand...I have no idea what the fuck it is that you want."

Thaddeus dropped his head, his shoulders shook a bit but it was from laughter. Though not the happy kind. "Desmond I go from hating your fucking guts and wishing you were six feet under to wanting to grovel at your feet and beg you to stay. I don't give a damn what you do anymore. Just leave me out of it."

When Desmond said he needed to be more specific, he whirled around, finally looking at him. "More specific? How much more fucking specific do I need to be you fucking asshole. You either love me or you don't. You either want to stay or you don't. You either want to be in my life....or you want to just do whatever it is that you do. Bottom line is I don't need you...I can damned well take care of myself. I've done it for hundreds of years and been just fine without you. The point is...." He let Desmond see then, the pain in his eyes. "I want you."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond caught the eye twitch, as well as the likely reason for it. Nobody would resist a cellphone quite as much as Thaddeus. He lived alone in a swamp for a reason, after all. Off grid, or as close as he could get. "I haven't bothered him at home... through any method of communication," Des clarified. "In all honesty I can perfectly understand if he told me to fuck off and never show my face in this city again--which, I'm sure, is what you would so love to do at this moment. But I'm giving him an option to talk to me... I'm not pushing, I'm just here. And I figured there was no point in avoiding you in an effort to act like I'm not noticed." It was all very matter of fact, because at this point Des didn't have room to be much of anything else. No, he barely had the ground he stood on, and it was perilously shaky at best. "So... I'm saying hello to you. Consider me a carrier pigeon if it makes the experience any more tolerable."

Magnus was in no mood for wordplay. "What are you doing here, Desmond?" He demanded. "If you are here to see Thaddeus you can just text him like everyone else does..." Pausing at that, his eye twitched a bit. Thaddeus didn't have a cellphone. Magnus kept giving them to him and he kept dropping them in the swamp. "Well..." He grumbled. "A singing telegram? Or a carrier pigeon perhaps?"

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond didn't really laugh exactly--more so letting loose that sort of sharp exhale through his nostrils that sent his drag's worth of smoke out with it. Because it wasn't funny. None of it was. And yet there was humor in the way Ophien could take it all down into something so flippant. "Sorry to disappoint," he said after a moment. "In fairness you'd likely know more than I would at any given time."

Not even bothering to look at Desmond, Ophie sighed. "Is it the apocalypse already? I thought we had another decade at least."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"It's more than I deserve," Desmond replied honestly. Because he couldn't deny that it would make perfect sense on some level since that was his experience of the situation. But it was something he feel he didn't have a right to hope for all the same. "I know that's probably not as you'd wish it either."

He deserved the remark about leaving as quickly as he'd arrived. In truth he'd deserve any harsh judgement Thaddeus ever laid upon him after their past. Des knew well enough the wound he'd bring about even despite his best intentions, and had certainly suffered in the absence of the man he loved most in the world. "Does it bother you that I'm haven't left?" Because any request from Thaddeus would be granted, even one for Des to leave Chicago if it was what the other warlock wished.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Thaddeus shrugged, not really committing to an answer one way or the other. When Desmond refilled his glass he tossed it back automatically. Having long since acclimated to the taste. He didn't really feel much of anything anymore. Which was just as well.

He shrugged again, brushing his hair back from his face. He didn't bother looking at Desmond, because he couldn't. "It's no surprise, is it? I mean hundreds of years later I'd still want you the same. That hasn't changed.'' He took a breath before he continued. "I honestly thought you'd be gone again by now. You know....sweep in sweep out or some shit."

His lips twitched a bit when Desmond took the bait about the geezer. He'd meant it to be funny. Anything to distract from the ache in his chest. "I don't want to do this anymore, Des."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Des cracked a smile at that. Someone had his claws out to match his warlock mark, as it happened. But it wasn't the sort of comment he took personally, especially given the circumstances. Des had excommunicated himself and burned a great deal of bridges in the process, so he couldn't expect to not have a black mark in the eye of on of Thaddeus' closest friends. "Evidently I fancied a turn in the colder weather," he replied, keeping eye contact with the other warlock all the while. "I didn't expect a warm welcome, for what it's worth."

The smile swept off Magnus’ face when he caught sight of the necromancer that stepped inside the ballroom. He wordlessly passed his drink to Vexx to whom he was speaking to.

Desmond had only just stepped inside the hall when Magnus swooped in to intercept him. His lip curled a bit at the attempt to be courteous. But Magnus was in a rather foul mood. Whether that be due to Desmond or something else…who knew.

The smile he offered to Desmond lacked any warmth or emotion. Just frigid cold. “Chicago certainly.” He replied. “The deepest pit of hell? Not so much.”

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond knew well enough that Magnus would have sensed him the minute he'd set foot in the place earlier, and yet he hadn't been consumed by flames or some god forsaken glitter bomb. No, he had the distinct feeling that Magnus was waiting for him to be the one to approach, to acknowledge his attendance despite not being explicitly invited. And it wasn't as if the High Warlock wasn't aware of his return to Chicago, given their tense chat at the Velvet Room's gala before hell broke loose.

Still, Hell, it seemed, would pale in comparison to the feeling of approaching Magnus in that moment. In his own home. And Desmond was far from the type to be truly nervous, or even intimidated--indeed there were few things or people that could illicit that sort of reaction from him. And yet, here he was, shaking in his proverbial boots as he waited off to the side for Magnus to finish greeting another guest.

He'd hoped to be the first to approach, to at least appear in some sort of way as if he might catch Magnus off guard and in a hopefully good form... until those cat eyes flitted over to him with an intensity only comparable to sighting one's prey. Well fuck.

"Is it the High Warlock's duty to invite all of the Chicago underground to these sorts of parties?" He managed to ask, hoping to portray himself as willingly conversational at the very least.

@magnus-fucking-bane

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"Mmm," Des hummed, the ghost of a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And have you been throwing in your lot on the subject?"

The news didn't shock Desmond. In a way it was almost exactly what he'd have expected in his absence... but to hear Thaddeus' reaction to it all did twist that blade into his back all the more so. He was meant to yell, to deny, to hate Des like he had at the Italian's gala, no? But this felt far more pained than he quite liked to witness. Because, of course, if it were up to him he would give the world to forbid Thaddeus any more pain again, and yet he'd become the main source of it for his folly. Damn it all.

He was aware of quite how silent he'd gotten, using the moment to top up Thaddeus' empty shot glass with some whiskey from his hip flask. Only after that did he speak. "You didn't have to tell me that. About me, I mean. Not the 'geezer,'" he added with a half laugh. "I do know what you mean though. All too well."

"Bah..." He said wrinkling his nose. "I'm only here for the booze. I don't give a fuck who old Xyphy goes home with. Though there is a betting pool on whether its a vamp or not."

Staring at his empty shot glass he frowned. "He threw me a party like this once. An..." He made air quotes "Orgy Party. Jokes on him though. The only person I've ever wanted to sleep with was you. That and that old geezer who lives at the corner. He's got good weed now and then."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"I'm surprised he managed to convince you to come along when that was the premise," Des remarked with a slight smirk. "But then again, I suppose the promise of a Bane party is too much to pass up regardless of the reason."

Cheers or whatever...

"You know....if I had a nickel for everytime I went to one of these shindigs for the sole purpose of getting someone laid...." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'd have exactly a nickel."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"Are you shocked by the notion? Or afraid?"

On the sidelines...

"He wouldn't really do that...would he?" He asked, considering contemplating the idea of the warlock bringing down the entire place with his smoldering intensite. But that took effort.

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Just outside...

In typical fashion, Ophie was decidedly not being social with the rest of the party. He lit his cigarette and leaned back against the alley with a contented sigh.

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Des sucked in air through his teeth in a clear sound of disagreement. "Well, we can't quite do that to ourselves. And

Thaddeus whirled back around to face him. Holding him back with a hand to his chest. Though they both knew Desmond could easily just take another step forward anyway. "See...that's the problem with you necros....you always come back no matter how many times someone kills you."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond was far from surprised, or even phased really. Instead he quietly followed behind Thaddeus, catching up with his longer strides. The mask was abandoned somewhere along that path. "Tired of yelling at me already?"

Thaddeus took the mask and placed it on Desmond's face. "Much better." He decided with a nod before stealing the other warlock's drink and turning to disappear back into the crowd.

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"At least we're both being honest then."

"Clearly....and I'm just a seedy vampire looking for my next hit."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"If you look any more disappointed you might develop permanent frown lines," Des replied dryly, though not with any real heat.

Magnus took one look at Desmond and heaved a sigh. "Oh goody. You're back."

[desmond-and-the-dead]

"I brought a mask. Isn't that enough of a costume?"

[desmond-and-the-dead]

Desmond's expression drew into another frown, but it didn't keep him from catching Thaddeus. He wrapped his arms around the shorter warlock, resting his chin atop Thaddy's head. And there wasn't much that could be said. But the love that flowed through their bond filled that silence, bringing a warmth to their fear-ridden selves.

"I know he does. They all do. But that's the point," Desmond retorted swiftly. Because he needed Thaddeus to understand that much. That emotions, words, outburts and the like were fuel for the fire and certainly a source of amusement to those bastards. But his agitation was almost immediately overwritten again by the panic in Thaddeus' eyes then. Baring his soul to Desmond, the depth of his worries. Because he knew what Hell had cost before. What it would likely bring upon him now. He could feel himself nearly tear up at that expression, those eyes filled with an all-consuming fear. "Tell me what to do, Thadd," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Tell me and I'll do it... because I never wanted this. T-This wasn't supposed to happen." And his breath caught again, each more shallow than the last as those tears did indeed fall. Because it came crashing down on him then--the reality that he'd sold his soul and his worst nightmares had become a reality anyways. That it didn't matter. That he'd become the very sort of pawn that he'd sworn to fall to the likes of.

Just as he'd about slipped into hyperventilation Thaddeus had pulled him into the kiss, as if that helped with his breath being stolen away. And yet, it did, in a way. Because it forced him to stop breathing quite so rapidly, if nothing else. Those words though... they damn near threatened to send him back into an uncharacteristic panic. "Thaddeus... don't do that. Don't act like I'm the one that needs to stay safe. Don't act like--" He winced, bringing his hands up to wipe away his still falling tears in a rather abrasive motion. "I know you can't tell me anything... I know we can't trust that right now. But don't minimize what you're going through. Please."

Whatever it was they were doing. That thought made him shiver. And then the memory of Desmond being flung on his doorstep, a bloody heap. It was too much. And it made him cry out in pain. Because that wound was still only freshly cleaned up. “I need you….” He started through clenched teeth. Though he didn’t bother to finish it. Because he knew damn well Desmond would come after him. Despite anything else. So instead he just sagged against him. Burying his face in his chest.

Thaddeus wanting to continue to rage. Because that was the only thing available to him that he could do. “He goads me first.” He ground out. “You didn’t see… you don’t know.” But again, Thaddeus was trying not to tell Desmond any of that. Then, a sort of raw desperation hit him and he was back to Desmond again. Clutching at him. Knowing of course that he couldn’t do anything about it. But stubbornly refusing to believe that he couldn’t. “I can’t go back there, Des.” He whimpered. And Desmond knew that of course. Desmond had been there through the aftermath last time. He knew exactly how deep those scars reached. The situation was just fucked up. And Thaddeus had none of the tools he needed to make the pain subside.

He felt helpless. Like no matter which move he made, he’d be sacrificing his Queen. His lips twitched a bit at how Desmond would likely respond to being referred to in that way. But it died quickly. Then, a light flickered to life in his mind. The portal. His portal. The one he’d made for Magnus so many years before. It would be able to reach far enough if Magnus knew how to work the damned thing. He stared up at Desmond. The plot slowly weaving its way into a manageable set of tasks. Tasks he could do from where he was. Pulling Desmond down to him, he kissed him. Knowing he couldn’t tell him what the plan was. But he needed to comfort him in the fact that there was one now. When he pulled back, he gave Desmond a meaningful look. “You stay safe. Okay? As long as you possibly can.”