[ Souls... Are hardy. Even when life is snuffed in the most brutal of ways, souls are steadfast and resilient. They harbor the emotions, though not always the memories, of lives once lived and sometimes are so powerful to create a space of their own. A world—a dream—invites and calls for a specific few.
How much time has passed? Who knows... Across universes, galaxies, existences, and astral planes, the temporal conundrum remains though unimportant for now. There's a song to hear. There's a call to answer. As Lucas follows it, he will take passage through a myriad of memories. They're memories of a simple slave boy with ambitions, of a corrupt feudal lord, and of a crooked mafia boss. All of them center the tragedies of a man he once knew in the plane of white clouds.
When Lucas blinks one more time, he will find himself in a familiar scene that once manifested in the cave of illusory pink clouds. Wheat stretches as far as the eye can see, reflecting a golden glow as spikes bend to the ocean breeze under the warmth of the sun. There are trees sparsely dotted across the field and a small town on the horizon, then mountain ranges beyond it. There's no cloud in the sky, crystal clear and blue.
It feels safe, like nothing bad can ever happen here. No, nothing bad has ever happened. It offers all who enter peace yet... A sense of finality, for this world is a last step before the end. One last gate, one last stop.
In the distance, anyone can see a black spot in all the beauty, just seated on a rock by a familiar tree. The figure dressed in shadows has no discernible features, just a mass of dark haze without a solid outline. Souls are hardy, resilient, and powerful, but they can be so delicate. They can forget themselves, forget their forms, and crumble under the weight of their emotions. Why else would he be like this?
Unknown, forgotten... But lingering in an idyllic dream. ]
[Lucas is no stranger to following what calls for him, for both the better and the worse. But unlike Jacopo, cursed to endure lifetime on lifetime, this is just the in-between for him. Just one little pause on the way between the only life he's ever known (yet, at least) and whatever lies ahead. Heaven, he assumes. Back to the place where he'd lost and gained so much, where he'd given and taken in equal measure.
So he follows with curiosity but without any real expectation, and it comes as a surprise when the memories shuttling him through the metaphoric door begin to take the shape of someone so familiar. The wheat field, too, is familiar - enough so that it gives him pause, and his gaze reflexively drops to where Jacopo had been sitting in that cave so long ago. Right by the entrance, close enough for Lucas to reach out and touch him as he cried, like he was made of spun silk.
Jacopo isn't there, but he's not hard to find. Like a blight on the pristine landscape, he stands out starkly - but there's nothing about the dark shape that Lucas finds unsightly or unpleasant. There's a little click of something familiar as he thinks about the silly weekly grievances they all faced and the number of times Jacopo just became a fucking shadow creature, so there isn't much by way of wariness as he approaches. That isn't an emotion he tends to feel often regardless. But over he'll go, moving through the wheat and to the rock and the tree, glancing up at it before looking back toward the figure.]
[ HE SURE DID SHED TEARS THAT DAY... That week was so incredibly stressful for him and Lucas just chanced the first time he had ever cried in Heaven. The week where his form would change wasn't as stressful, though perhaps too telling. He had already been just a soul for a bit, nebular and having trouble constructing himself, before god Jonas decided I will bring you back like you were before. Broken and in pieces.
As grateful as he was for having the chance to regain pieces of himself in the two months, there was still a part of him who wished to fade out of existence... And perhaps this is the shape of that kind of person, smog among the golden color he so loves. It's hard to tell when there's no physical features to be seen, not even an outline of a silhouette, whether he looks at Lucas or continues to look out to the wheat.
When he speaks, it doesn't have any bitterness or weariness. The discomfort and anxiety he had before also tapered out. His tone is calm, at peace, maybe even pleased by Lucas' visit, though he'd still never admit it. ]
I didn't notice.
[ But often Jacopo masks what he wants so well that he can't discern... He hides what he feels and keeps what he truly wants to say lodged in his throat. It's still hard to know if the dark cloud is doing anything, but Lucas may feel a gaze set on him. ]
It's been a while.
[ Or at least, it has been a while for him. Not sure for Lucas. ]
[SOMETIMES... you just gotta have that cry. It happens... The trials and tribulations of that distant Heaven do seem like things that happened both a lightyear away and things that happened just seconds earlier, and maybe that's just a result of this place, or maybe it's just a result of the strange time dilation that comes from a person who spent all 23 years of their first life expecting to die by 23.
He looks over the figure for a few long and quiet moments, not exactly trying to pick anything out of the haze that Jacopo has become, but perhaps attempting to suss out some familiarity in it. This is a far cry from the Jacopo he remembers, after all. Someone centered, someone calm - none of the weighty exhaustion that seemed to drape over him like a veil. It piques his curiosity, makes him want to learn a little more about what happened between the distant there and the current here that's seemingly let him free at least a bit of himself up.
The first statement just gets a small quirk of a smile that grows a little larger with the second. It's fond reminiscence to him, for the most part - in spite of everything.]
It has been. I hadn't expected to run into you again outside of Heaven. [Though another quick glance around the place makes him think it feels a bit like Heaven regardless. A perfect, cloudless sky and endless, stretching fields of wheat. He looks back toward Jacopo.]
I should ask you that since I don't entirely believe what you said.
[ That during throes of destruction there would be a signal... That part of his self-indulgence before he makes the last and final choice to erase himself from existence is to spend time with people.
It seems silly and nonsensical, but he ponders on it under the shade as filtered light passes through the tree's leaves and branches. It doesn't illuminate anything to discern, but a trick on the eye may make anyone think they see something—a lean figure, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, or simple off-white clothing.
Maybe... Maybe.
In a idyllic dream, he can spend his time with them without the guilt and fear that plagued him before... Nothing bad ever happened here. Nothing bad will ever happen here. It is self-indulgent, incredibly so. ]
Are men not allowed to dream?
[ The shadow shifts, like he's leaning back a bit. No, men are not. Not in the slightest, especially not men like Jacopo, but he is here because of a dream. ]
[But Lucas just looks amused rather than offended. No harm, no foul. Just the two of them here chatting away under the dappled lighting of the tree on the edge between death and what lies beyond even it, where he thinks for a blink that he can spot the figure of a man he once knew for two excruciatingly chaotic months within the shapeless, formless inky black.
He takes a step closer, because if this is a place to be self-indulgent, then his favorite indulgences are just little ones like this. Just being able to spend time with those he's fond of, to sit in their periphery, to bask in their presence, ever the big dog that thinks he's a damn lap dog.]
Everyone is allowed to dream.
[Ever a teacher, always encouraging others to think of grand, large, lovely things, futures and dreams and plans big enough to carry them through the painful trials of life.]
If this is yours, it's a lovely one. Warm and welcoming. May I join you for a moment?
[It's Jacopo's dream, but if Jacopo is here within it, then this is where he wants to be for now, too.]
[ Obviously, like the years apart never existed. He seems to remember Lucas' penchant for teasing, even if it was subtle and light. It was gentler than he was used to when he was constantly harassed so aggressively by people in his life.
When Lucas takes a step closer, the shadow doesn't move from where it's settled on the rock. Its demeanor doesn't blink into anything foreboding, tense, or hostile. ]
Again, if what you claim about being called here is true, then you don't need to ask.
[ Jacopo isn't quite cognizant. It's difficult to tell between reality and dream when this place lies before life and after death. If Lucas is here, telling him he was invited, then Jacopo assumes that he must want Lucas here. Lucas' company must be part of his dream... It must be part of his selfish desires and wants he had often restricted and relinquished in favor of "better."
There may be bittersweet memories laced tightly with fear and discomfort, but as his mind digs for them that isn't what he unearths. The fear and discomfort are distant now. Instead, looking upon Lucas' presence, there is... Familiar fondness, if he had to use words.
So Lucas doesn't need to ask... He can do what he wants. Jacopo even beckons him closer with a wave of his hand. ]
Oh, my. I must wonder what sort of person you take me for, my dear.
[But this, too, is just part of his penchant for teasing - light, melodic, simple. No ill intention behind it, just the playfulness of someone whose heart is probably still too unburdened. But that's fine; who's here to judge him for it in an ideal in-between?
Since the shadow doesn't seem overly-bothered, he'll move closer still. There is something undeniably warm about having an invitation into a perfected version of a dream in which someone whom he was so fond of resides. It settles in the core of his ribcage, sitting not like something burning or unpleasant, but like the glow of a hearth.
His hands come up and fold together for a brief moment before he extends one out, palm up, like he's asking for Jacopo's shadowy blur blob hand.]
Are you able to feel anything when you look like that?
[ But that isn't Lucas' entire fault on the serious front, then on the playful front how else would you describe someone with mischievous inclinations? Jacopo isn't often delicate with his words, even if he is a fragile person. At least the tone is one of mirth rather than damnation. If it serves as a reminder, it's a distant one because nothing bad ever happened here.
Tilting his head, the comment on his appearance leaves him perplexed... Despite that, he reaches out to Lucas' hand, though there is a pause halfway through. Even though nothing bad ever happened here in this dream and yet maybe it's difficult for the soul to forget.
Still, Jacopo is strong-willed, pushes forward, and takes his hand. ]
You can see for yourself.
[ It just feels like a hand despite how it's all darkness and shadow. There's the shape of a palm, the tips of fingers, and an undeniable warmth. Maybe the plane mimics sensations that their souls can understand in spite of form and appearance.
But perhaps the darkness fades a bit, though his visage is blurry and smudged like oil paint on canvas. ]
[In how he DELIVERS HIS DAMNATIONS, even though Lucas doesn't take it as a personal sleight even though he should. He should definitely stop and think a little more about why people are still calling him a demon even mirthfully, but he does not, because the sun is shining and Jacopo's freaky shadowpaw is warm against his palm, and he is not bogged down by the shrieks of all the people he supermurdered who are definitely waiting for his ass in Hades and will be waiting there indefinitely since Jonas gave him a free pass to salvation.
He does, perhaps, note that slight beat of hesitation in Jacopo's reach, but if it stirs any particular emotions in his heart or brings any thoughts to mind, they're left private. He'd rather just fold his hands over Jacopo's instead and focus on that. Hand sandwich once more. His hands are cooler, but warm enough to seem alive, even when they are both distinctly not.]
[ The stillness is protecting you well, Lucas. Jacopo right now doesn't find or muster responsibility to show him that which he can't see, doesn't want to see—because in an idyllic dream, the truth shouldn't need to hurt. Lucas should be able to sleep peacefully. Or maybe he'll sob all that is buried in his little heart out.
The hold is very solid, securely fastened, and he has all five fingers if you're curious about this shadowpaw that has more of a human shape than before. His fingertips are somewhat calloused like usual... Each crease of his palm is like before, then his knuckles protruding and rough. ]
While you're more like a ghost.
[ What is up with that? He reaches out with his other fretful blurry hand to place over Lucas'. A hand double patty burger. It comes with a rub, trying to make Lucas hands warmer. ]
You can take a seat instead of looking awkward standing around, you know.
[Sometimes all roads just lead back to the cult if you don't catch the eye of the right god, but it's fine. An idyllic dream isn't forever, even if it could be, so a little indulgence isn't so terrible.
His five-fingered shadowpaw... DON'T JUDGE HIS HANDS listen. He's just like this, though both the comment and the hand sandwich stack make him laugh just a little.]
Oh? I've been told before that my hands are a bit unpleasant to touch sometimes. I've always run a bit cold.
[The gesture reminds him of others who had similarly held and warmed his hands in the past, though, which stirs a sense of nostalgia in a here-and-gone kind of way that leaks very briefly into his smile. But he'll move to sit beside him when the offer is made, prim and proper and elegant even in the shadow of death. Or maybe especially.]
Perhaps I've become too used to needing to get around very quickly. No such need for any quickness here, it seems...
[Like the perfect lazy Sunday, in perpetuity. damn i aki want that]
I kind of remember. [ Though the time he took Lucas' hand, he was challenging a lot of inner turmoil as he spilled so much self-perceived arrogance wrapped in what he thought was care. It felt so long ago, so distant. ] I run a bit warmer.
[ Though he had his moments when all the color and warmth are drained out of him before... Where he had been crouched to the floor. Hanging barely above the dirt where he belongs, catching himself before he rightfully falls. That isn't here. His hands aren't warm from the blood that once coated them and seeped into his skin as sins he can't shed. They're naturally warm in how they rub Lucas' hands, gentle and with care from someone who used to be so desperate to give.
It took however long to get here, or better said to return to who he once was. Still, from their held hands, it tells that he had been the same man regardless. It feels the exact same from their time in Heaven.
When Lucas takes a seat on this large rock that makes a great bench, he will slide his blurry hands away, not to draw away just that it's awkward to twist his whole blurry body to keep doing that. ]
Always in a rush? You're right that there's no need for haste here unless you want to visit the town. Even then, it lacks the city bustle. [ But from Jacopo's tone and from how he gazes at the building silhouettes in the near distance, it doesn't seem like he minds that. ] How have you been?
[ They can catch up. Even if this is the last stop and all dreams either come to an end or are realized, it feels like seconds stretch to hours... It is very much a peaceful Sunday. ]
[He can recall every warm hand that's held his, for better or for worse, though he says this with a little twinkle of amusement in his eye rather than anything edging too close to that nostalgia.
When Jacopo's blurry hands slide away, he doesn't seem to mind it either, and he sits in a way that lets him keep himself turned toward this blurryass figure like a sunflower to the sun. It's a habit that he's carried along with him for a lifetime and then some, this tendency to want to fully face whoever he's speaking to, like they're the only other person in the room. In this case, perhaps the only other person in this entire world.]
Often rushing, at least. A consequence of being used to a fast-running clock, I suppose. [You have to do things SO FAST when you only get two decades and some change to live, if you're lucky. His gaze also drifts out toward the distant buildings, though, curious in a mild sort of way.]
I'd like to take a look eventually. [But there's no need to rush, and so he won't.] I suppose I've been as well as can be expected, in any case. [A small smile; a quick step around the topic.] What of yourself? You seem to be in a good mood, at least. Suspiciously so.
[ Jacopo sits normally as he usually does, facing the golden sea and the town nearby. This was only a place of dreams and maybe there is some sense of accomplishment to finally experience it... Even if it's a lull. ]
It'd be worth a visit. It's quaint and the people are friendly enough.
[ Apparently, Jacopo has populated this dream town with people who he believes should be there.
The question returned gets a little shrug before he turns to Lucas, expression hatched out at different directions. With some imagination and a squint, maybe a small smile could be made out. At least it can be heard in his voice, even though he's being teased. He knows that it was rare before. ]
Hard to not be in a good mood when you're home. [ Even if this is solace at the end of the line. He gestures with a hand, a little frivolous though incredulous. ] So you were always in a rush, but have nothing to report? How suspicious.
[JACOPO JUST ALSO PLAYING GOD. He's a little curious though, since it's not like he has innate understanding of everything this world is or could be. Who knows? He's here himself, after all; maybe there are others like him who've wandered through or be called in and have decided to make this place a home, however temporary.]
A glowing review from you. I'll look forward to it, then.
[Though he's having a perfectly good time here, just engaging in conversation. He watches the patchwork mess of Jacopo's expression like he's looking at art on a museum wall, tracking the changes with an open sort of interest. There's just a little hum in response to the first part; his home is not a comforting place, so it's a sentiment he can understand in theory only. The rest has him cracking another smile, the kind that make his eyes half-moon.]
Then I suppose we're just two suspicious people, aren't we? Two suspicious people with nothing to report.
[ IT'S HIS LITTLE DREAM WORLD! HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS UNTIL HE MAKES A DECISION. Jacopo looks off to the side when he's also called out, feigning some innocence. ]
I am far less suspicious than you.
[ Not that there's a high bar here... It is incredibly low. Jacopo knows he became shadier during the karmic cycles, though that wasn't entirely his fault. He still believes himself to shoulder responsibility.
And yet he points at Lucas. He isn't taking back what he said, though. ]
[HE REALLY CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS UNTIL THEN he's living his best life. STOP LOOKING AWAY. That's so true though Lucas is so fucking suspicious all of the time, but he just laughs regardless, the sound light and unburdened.]
Do you think so? I think that between the two of us, especially right now, you would be considered the more suspicious person by far.
[It's because Lucas looks like a Renaissance painting and Jacopo is a blurry shadow creature. He reaches out to lightly pat one of his shoulder blurs, the amusement prominent.]
[ Just because Jacopo is a crosshatch of a person doesn't make him more suspicious than Lucas. He has some color to him now, no longer shadows, but it still looks like he's pigment on a canvas. His silhouette conveys he looks at him, eyebrows vaguely looking like they're knitted.
It might be a scrutinizing squint. ]
I don't think suspicious can ever be twisted to be a compliment.
You clearly aren't thinking creatively enough, then.
[But this is also said in a joking tone. So much of what he says is said like it's jest even though not everything he says is actual jest. A creature...
He's just sort of watching Jacopo's face and form come together like a live painter is placing colors on the canvas right in front of his eyes, though. It's a curious thing and if he weren't so proper by design and default, he'd be tempted to reach out and touch, see if he's as solid now as he was when he was all smog and shadow.]
You're starting to look more like yourself and less like a little storm cloud now, though.
[It's endearing... in a strangely Eldritch-esque way. The formless becoming formed.]
[ These games you play he hasn't forgotten... The harassment is eternally etched in. He tilts his head, a little curious. ]
Is that so?
[ Not like he can immediately notice or tell without any reflective surface, but he doesn't seem all that perturbed by it. It hasn't gotten in the way of his livelihood here.
It does make him wonder if it's similar to the effects in Heaven so long ago... Where if left to his lonesome, he turns into a dark haze only to return if someone else was present. Like he can only remember himself when someone is there with him. ]
It took me longer to gain form last time, I think. [ He doesn't know. It could have potentially taken him nearing eight hundred years. ] You will just have to deal with it.
[ ... ]
You know I am genuinely curious about how you led your life after we parted.
But he just nods at the question, smiles at the rest of what's said.]
Did it? You've already changed quite quickly even in just this short amount of time together. I'll "deal with it", but that makes it sound like something I've been burdened with... I don't really mind it at all.
[Maybe it's a bit like a fat and cozy cat being able to watch the birds flit about to and from the bird feeder set by the window, the way he just watches Jacopo's face and body shift and change. The way that his expression's sharpness comes and goes, and the familiarity in the lines of him become starker.
There's a little wryness to the smile that follows, though. Thin, brief. Oh the life he's lived.]
Why don't we trade, then? A story for a story. You aren't the only curious person here, after all.
[ Jacopo for some reason has an easy time and also hard time forgetting, likewise remembering.
He does think Lucas is weird... If this happened to him, he wouldn't be quite okay with it. Or maybe he would be. Hard to know when you're not in the same position and years have also changed him a bit, eroded some of his edges. When experiences become many, you become not quite numb, but desensitized to what would be unnerving for the most part.
Still, he thinks he would overreact, but a normal amount, he tells himself. ]
You come to my home on invitation and think you can start up negotiations. [ Leaning forward, he props his elbow onto his knee, then rest his chin on his palm. ] That's some arrogance.
Even years and years can't erode Jacopo's delusional sense that he's the only normal person in the bar though, huh. Even with some of his edges eroded he's still out here like "man this guy is a freak, thank god I'm the normal person here". ARE YOU NORMAL JACOPO? WERE YOU EVER??
He wears his amusement openly though, not leaning forward in turn but definitely seeming very comfortable in the space of this sketchy artbook doodle of a man and his fantasy wheat world. He is often more comfortable than he should be in any given space, but why wouldn't he feel that way when he'd been invited, for all intents and purposes?]
Is it? I think it's not so egregious, really. You won't indulge my curiosity even a little...? I've come all this way.
[HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW FAR "ALL THIS WAY" IS nothing is linear when you're a spirit just gently drifting between life and death.]
[ Humanity at its core is full of idiosyncrasies. We are swiss cheese.
There is nothing in the whole multi-universes that would shake Jacopo's belief that he knows what normal should be like and that in many cases he has normal reactions. Does this make him less insane? Not in particular.
Being invited to a place you've only seen as a mirage should be concerning, but it is peaceful here. Nothing bad has or will ever happen in this little tranquil dream. It is Jacopo's haven, after all, but now it houses a demon whom Jacopo is trying to converse with. His index finger taps his cheek a couple of times because ALL THIS WAY is so relative.
Pensive. ]
... After my time in Heaven, I did find Morgana and apologized to her like I said I would.
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IS THIS SICILY
How much time has passed? Who knows... Across universes, galaxies, existences, and astral planes, the temporal conundrum remains though unimportant for now. There's a song to hear. There's a call to answer. As Lucas follows it, he will take passage through a myriad of memories. They're memories of a simple slave boy with ambitions, of a corrupt feudal lord, and of a crooked mafia boss. All of them center the tragedies of a man he once knew in the plane of white clouds.
When Lucas blinks one more time, he will find himself in a familiar scene that once manifested in the cave of illusory pink clouds. Wheat stretches as far as the eye can see, reflecting a golden glow as spikes bend to the ocean breeze under the warmth of the sun. There are trees sparsely dotted across the field and a small town on the horizon, then mountain ranges beyond it. There's no cloud in the sky, crystal clear and blue.
It feels safe, like nothing bad can ever happen here. No, nothing bad has ever happened. It offers all who enter peace yet... A sense of finality, for this world is a last step before the end. One last gate, one last stop.
In the distance, anyone can see a black spot in all the beauty, just seated on a rock by a familiar tree. The figure dressed in shadows has no discernible features, just a mass of dark haze without a solid outline. Souls are hardy, resilient, and powerful, but they can be so delicate. They can forget themselves, forget their forms, and crumble under the weight of their emotions. Why else would he be like this?
Unknown, forgotten... But lingering in an idyllic dream. ]
FANTASY SICILY
So he follows with curiosity but without any real expectation, and it comes as a surprise when the memories shuttling him through the metaphoric door begin to take the shape of someone so familiar. The wheat field, too, is familiar - enough so that it gives him pause, and his gaze reflexively drops to where Jacopo had been sitting in that cave so long ago. Right by the entrance, close enough for Lucas to reach out and touch him as he cried, like he was made of spun silk.
Jacopo isn't there, but he's not hard to find. Like a blight on the pristine landscape, he stands out starkly - but there's nothing about the dark shape that Lucas finds unsightly or unpleasant. There's a little click of something familiar as he thinks about the silly weekly grievances they all faced and the number of times Jacopo just became a fucking shadow creature, so there isn't much by way of wariness as he approaches. That isn't an emotion he tends to feel often regardless. But over he'll go, moving through the wheat and to the rock and the tree, glancing up at it before looking back toward the figure.]
You were calling, I think.
[Whether he knows it or not.]
no subject
As grateful as he was for having the chance to regain pieces of himself in the two months, there was still a part of him who wished to fade out of existence... And perhaps this is the shape of that kind of person, smog among the golden color he so loves. It's hard to tell when there's no physical features to be seen, not even an outline of a silhouette, whether he looks at Lucas or continues to look out to the wheat.
When he speaks, it doesn't have any bitterness or weariness. The discomfort and anxiety he had before also tapered out. His tone is calm, at peace, maybe even pleased by Lucas' visit, though he'd still never admit it. ]
I didn't notice.
[ But often Jacopo masks what he wants so well that he can't discern... He hides what he feels and keeps what he truly wants to say lodged in his throat. It's still hard to know if the dark cloud is doing anything, but Lucas may feel a gaze set on him. ]
It's been a while.
[ Or at least, it has been a while for him. Not sure for Lucas. ]
no subject
He looks over the figure for a few long and quiet moments, not exactly trying to pick anything out of the haze that Jacopo has become, but perhaps attempting to suss out some familiarity in it. This is a far cry from the Jacopo he remembers, after all. Someone centered, someone calm - none of the weighty exhaustion that seemed to drape over him like a veil. It piques his curiosity, makes him want to learn a little more about what happened between the distant there and the current here that's seemingly let him free at least a bit of himself up.
The first statement just gets a small quirk of a smile that grows a little larger with the second. It's fond reminiscence to him, for the most part - in spite of everything.]
It has been. I hadn't expected to run into you again outside of Heaven. [Though another quick glance around the place makes him think it feels a bit like Heaven regardless. A perfect, cloudless sky and endless, stretching fields of wheat. He looks back toward Jacopo.]
However did you find your way here?
no subject
I should ask you that since I don't entirely believe what you said.
[ That during throes of destruction there would be a signal... That part of his self-indulgence before he makes the last and final choice to erase himself from existence is to spend time with people.
It seems silly and nonsensical, but he ponders on it under the shade as filtered light passes through the tree's leaves and branches. It doesn't illuminate anything to discern, but a trick on the eye may make anyone think they see something—a lean figure, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, or simple off-white clothing.
Maybe... Maybe.
In a idyllic dream, he can spend his time with them without the guilt and fear that plagued him before... Nothing bad ever happened here. Nothing bad will ever happen here. It is self-indulgent, incredibly so. ]
Are men not allowed to dream?
[ The shadow shifts, like he's leaning back a bit. No, men are not. Not in the slightest, especially not men like Jacopo, but he is here because of a dream. ]
no subject
[But Lucas just looks amused rather than offended. No harm, no foul. Just the two of them here chatting away under the dappled lighting of the tree on the edge between death and what lies beyond even it, where he thinks for a blink that he can spot the figure of a man he once knew for two excruciatingly chaotic months within the shapeless, formless inky black.
He takes a step closer, because if this is a place to be self-indulgent, then his favorite indulgences are just little ones like this. Just being able to spend time with those he's fond of, to sit in their periphery, to bask in their presence, ever the big dog that thinks he's a damn lap dog.]
Everyone is allowed to dream.
[Ever a teacher, always encouraging others to think of grand, large, lovely things, futures and dreams and plans big enough to carry them through the painful trials of life.]
If this is yours, it's a lovely one. Warm and welcoming. May I join you for a moment?
[It's Jacopo's dream, but if Jacopo is here within it, then this is where he wants to be for now, too.]
no subject
[ Obviously, like the years apart never existed. He seems to remember Lucas' penchant for teasing, even if it was subtle and light. It was gentler than he was used to when he was constantly harassed so aggressively by people in his life.
When Lucas takes a step closer, the shadow doesn't move from where it's settled on the rock. Its demeanor doesn't blink into anything foreboding, tense, or hostile. ]
Again, if what you claim about being called here is true, then you don't need to ask.
[ Jacopo isn't quite cognizant. It's difficult to tell between reality and dream when this place lies before life and after death. If Lucas is here, telling him he was invited, then Jacopo assumes that he must want Lucas here. Lucas' company must be part of his dream... It must be part of his selfish desires and wants he had often restricted and relinquished in favor of "better."
There may be bittersweet memories laced tightly with fear and discomfort, but as his mind digs for them that isn't what he unearths. The fear and discomfort are distant now. Instead, looking upon Lucas' presence, there is... Familiar fondness, if he had to use words.
So Lucas doesn't need to ask... He can do what he wants. Jacopo even beckons him closer with a wave of his hand. ]
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[But this, too, is just part of his penchant for teasing - light, melodic, simple. No ill intention behind it, just the playfulness of someone whose heart is probably still too unburdened. But that's fine; who's here to judge him for it in an ideal in-between?
Since the shadow doesn't seem overly-bothered, he'll move closer still. There is something undeniably warm about having an invitation into a perfected version of a dream in which someone whom he was so fond of resides. It settles in the core of his ribcage, sitting not like something burning or unpleasant, but like the glow of a hearth.
His hands come up and fold together for a brief moment before he extends one out, palm up, like he's asking for Jacopo's shadowy blur blob hand.]
Are you able to feel anything when you look like that?
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[ But that isn't Lucas' entire fault on the serious front, then on the playful front how else would you describe someone with mischievous inclinations? Jacopo isn't often delicate with his words, even if he is a fragile person. At least the tone is one of mirth rather than damnation. If it serves as a reminder, it's a distant one because nothing bad ever happened here.
Tilting his head, the comment on his appearance leaves him perplexed... Despite that, he reaches out to Lucas' hand, though there is a pause halfway through. Even though nothing bad ever happened here in this dream and yet maybe it's difficult for the soul to forget.
Still, Jacopo is strong-willed, pushes forward, and takes his hand. ]
You can see for yourself.
[ It just feels like a hand despite how it's all darkness and shadow. There's the shape of a palm, the tips of fingers, and an undeniable warmth. Maybe the plane mimics sensations that their souls can understand in spite of form and appearance.
But perhaps the darkness fades a bit, though his visage is blurry and smudged like oil paint on canvas. ]
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[In how he DELIVERS HIS DAMNATIONS, even though Lucas doesn't take it as a personal sleight even though he should. He should definitely stop and think a little more about why people are still calling him a demon even mirthfully, but he does not, because the sun is shining and Jacopo's freaky shadowpaw is warm against his palm, and he is not bogged down by the shrieks of all the people he supermurdered who are definitely waiting for his ass in Hades and will be waiting there indefinitely since Jonas gave him a free pass to salvation.
He does, perhaps, note that slight beat of hesitation in Jacopo's reach, but if it stirs any particular emotions in his heart or brings any thoughts to mind, they're left private. He'd rather just fold his hands over Jacopo's instead and focus on that. Hand sandwich once more. His hands are cooler, but warm enough to seem alive, even when they are both distinctly not.]
You do feel very solid.
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The hold is very solid, securely fastened, and he has all five fingers if you're curious about this shadowpaw that has more of a human shape than before. His fingertips are somewhat calloused like usual... Each crease of his palm is like before, then his knuckles protruding and rough. ]
While you're more like a ghost.
[ What is up with that? He reaches out with his other fretful blurry hand to place over Lucas'. A hand double patty burger. It comes with a rub, trying to make Lucas hands warmer. ]
You can take a seat instead of looking awkward standing around, you know.
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His five-fingered shadowpaw... DON'T JUDGE HIS HANDS listen. He's just like this, though both the comment and the hand sandwich stack make him laugh just a little.]
Oh? I've been told before that my hands are a bit unpleasant to touch sometimes. I've always run a bit cold.
[The gesture reminds him of others who had similarly held and warmed his hands in the past, though, which stirs a sense of nostalgia in a here-and-gone kind of way that leaks very briefly into his smile. But he'll move to sit beside him when the offer is made, prim and proper and elegant even in the shadow of death. Or maybe especially.]
Perhaps I've become too used to needing to get around very quickly. No such need for any quickness here, it seems...
[Like the perfect lazy Sunday, in perpetuity. damn i aki want that]
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[ Though he had his moments when all the color and warmth are drained out of him before... Where he had been crouched to the floor. Hanging barely above the dirt where he belongs, catching himself before he rightfully falls. That isn't here. His hands aren't warm from the blood that once coated them and seeped into his skin as sins he can't shed. They're naturally warm in how they rub Lucas' hands, gentle and with care from someone who used to be so desperate to give.
It took however long to get here, or better said to return to who he once was. Still, from their held hands, it tells that he had been the same man regardless. It feels the exact same from their time in Heaven.
When Lucas takes a seat on this large rock that makes a great bench, he will slide his blurry hands away, not to draw away just that it's awkward to twist his whole blurry body to keep doing that. ]
Always in a rush? You're right that there's no need for haste here unless you want to visit the town. Even then, it lacks the city bustle. [ But from Jacopo's tone and from how he gazes at the building silhouettes in the near distance, it doesn't seem like he minds that. ] How have you been?
[ They can catch up. Even if this is the last stop and all dreams either come to an end or are realized, it feels like seconds stretch to hours... It is very much a peaceful Sunday. ]
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[He can recall every warm hand that's held his, for better or for worse, though he says this with a little twinkle of amusement in his eye rather than anything edging too close to that nostalgia.
When Jacopo's blurry hands slide away, he doesn't seem to mind it either, and he sits in a way that lets him keep himself turned toward this blurryass figure like a sunflower to the sun. It's a habit that he's carried along with him for a lifetime and then some, this tendency to want to fully face whoever he's speaking to, like they're the only other person in the room. In this case, perhaps the only other person in this entire world.]
Often rushing, at least. A consequence of being used to a fast-running clock, I suppose. [You have to do things SO FAST when you only get two decades and some change to live, if you're lucky. His gaze also drifts out toward the distant buildings, though, curious in a mild sort of way.]
I'd like to take a look eventually. [But there's no need to rush, and so he won't.] I suppose I've been as well as can be expected, in any case. [A small smile; a quick step around the topic.] What of yourself? You seem to be in a good mood, at least. Suspiciously so.
[But he is teasing once again.]
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It'd be worth a visit. It's quaint and the people are friendly enough.
[ Apparently, Jacopo has populated this dream town with people who he believes should be there.
The question returned gets a little shrug before he turns to Lucas, expression hatched out at different directions. With some imagination and a squint, maybe a small smile could be made out. At least it can be heard in his voice, even though he's being teased. He knows that it was rare before. ]
Hard to not be in a good mood when you're home. [ Even if this is solace at the end of the line. He gestures with a hand, a little frivolous though incredulous. ] So you were always in a rush, but have nothing to report? How suspicious.
[ SHADY. ]
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A glowing review from you. I'll look forward to it, then.
[Though he's having a perfectly good time here, just engaging in conversation. He watches the patchwork mess of Jacopo's expression like he's looking at art on a museum wall, tracking the changes with an open sort of interest. There's just a little hum in response to the first part; his home is not a comforting place, so it's a sentiment he can understand in theory only. The rest has him cracking another smile, the kind that make his eyes half-moon.]
Then I suppose we're just two suspicious people, aren't we? Two suspicious people with nothing to report.
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I am far less suspicious than you.
[ Not that there's a high bar here... It is incredibly low. Jacopo knows he became shadier during the karmic cycles, though that wasn't entirely his fault. He still believes himself to shoulder responsibility.
And yet he points at Lucas. He isn't taking back what he said, though. ]
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Do you think so? I think that between the two of us, especially right now, you would be considered the more suspicious person by far.
[It's because Lucas looks like a Renaissance painting and Jacopo is a blurry shadow creature. He reaches out to lightly pat one of his shoulder blurs, the amusement prominent.]
But you're suspicious in a charming way.
[IS THAT A COMPLIMENT.]
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It might be a scrutinizing squint. ]
I don't think suspicious can ever be twisted to be a compliment.
[ He won't be taking it as one. ]
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[But this is also said in a joking tone. So much of what he says is said like it's jest even though not everything he says is actual jest. A creature...
He's just sort of watching Jacopo's face and form come together like a live painter is placing colors on the canvas right in front of his eyes, though. It's a curious thing and if he weren't so proper by design and default, he'd be tempted to reach out and touch, see if he's as solid now as he was when he was all smog and shadow.]
You're starting to look more like yourself and less like a little storm cloud now, though.
[It's endearing... in a strangely Eldritch-esque way. The formless becoming formed.]
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Is that so?
[ Not like he can immediately notice or tell without any reflective surface, but he doesn't seem all that perturbed by it. It hasn't gotten in the way of his livelihood here.
It does make him wonder if it's similar to the effects in Heaven so long ago... Where if left to his lonesome, he turns into a dark haze only to return if someone else was present. Like he can only remember himself when someone is there with him. ]
It took me longer to gain form last time, I think. [ He doesn't know. It could have potentially taken him nearing eight hundred years. ] You will just have to deal with it.
[ ... ]
You know I am genuinely curious about how you led your life after we parted.
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But he just nods at the question, smiles at the rest of what's said.]
Did it? You've already changed quite quickly even in just this short amount of time together. I'll "deal with it", but that makes it sound like something I've been burdened with... I don't really mind it at all.
[Maybe it's a bit like a fat and cozy cat being able to watch the birds flit about to and from the bird feeder set by the window, the way he just watches Jacopo's face and body shift and change. The way that his expression's sharpness comes and goes, and the familiarity in the lines of him become starker.
There's a little wryness to the smile that follows, though. Thin, brief. Oh the life he's lived.]
Why don't we trade, then? A story for a story. You aren't the only curious person here, after all.
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He does think Lucas is weird... If this happened to him, he wouldn't be quite okay with it. Or maybe he would be. Hard to know when you're not in the same position and years have also changed him a bit, eroded some of his edges. When experiences become many, you become not quite numb, but desensitized to what would be unnerving for the most part.
Still, he thinks he would overreact, but a normal amount, he tells himself. ]
You come to my home on invitation and think you can start up negotiations. [ Leaning forward, he props his elbow onto his knee, then rest his chin on his palm. ] That's some arrogance.
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Even years and years can't erode Jacopo's delusional sense that he's the only normal person in the bar though, huh. Even with some of his edges eroded he's still out here like "man this guy is a freak, thank god I'm the normal person here". ARE YOU NORMAL JACOPO? WERE YOU EVER??
He wears his amusement openly though, not leaning forward in turn but definitely seeming very comfortable in the space of this sketchy artbook doodle of a man and his fantasy wheat world. He is often more comfortable than he should be in any given space, but why wouldn't he feel that way when he'd been invited, for all intents and purposes?]
Is it? I think it's not so egregious, really. You won't indulge my curiosity even a little...? I've come all this way.
[HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW FAR "ALL THIS WAY" IS nothing is linear when you're a spirit just gently drifting between life and death.]
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There is nothing in the whole multi-universes that would shake Jacopo's belief that he knows what normal should be like and that in many cases he has normal reactions. Does this make him less insane? Not in particular.
Being invited to a place you've only seen as a mirage should be concerning, but it is peaceful here. Nothing bad has or will ever happen in this little tranquil dream. It is Jacopo's haven, after all, but now it houses a demon whom Jacopo is trying to converse with. His index finger taps his cheek a couple of times because ALL THIS WAY is so relative.
Pensive. ]
... After my time in Heaven, I did find Morgana and apologized to her like I said I would.
[ They can start there. ]
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