A/N: Trigger warning: mentions of "blood" but not actual blood.
Virgil ate enough to silence both the voices of Patton and Stan: which amounted to 3/4's a bowl of porridge and half a glass of orange juice. He had just finished putting his dishes away, thanked Patton, and turned to leave when...
Roman bounced in and leaned on the door frame, inadvertently blocking Virgils' path. Roman looked pumped and rearing to go.
"I'm going to have the BEST creative session EVER today! Watch the fountain of dreams and ideas burst forth from me like a volcano!"
"A very mixed metaphor there Roman...but, errr, good luck in your endevours." Logan replied, just starting to wash his own dishes. Virgil shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"Now make sure you wrap up warmly there Princy, wouldn't want you getting sick now would we." Patton looked up from his own bowl of porridge, nagging gently.
Roman huffed, not exactly getting the reaction he required, but then finally seemed to catch on to the fact that Virgil was wanting to leave - and he was blocking the doorway.
"Oh, ah, sorry...Friendooooo!" Roman moved aside and clapped Virgil on the back as he moved through, happy with himself for being so in tune with the youngers' feelings for once.
He looked up to see the others staring at him with odd looks on their faces.
"What?"
Patton just face-palmed.
~
The back of the mind was the same as the last time Virgil had been there: perpetual darkness, solely lit by Tristan's floating ball of essence. Although...
"You're growing!"
The orb of light was now elongated, stretched further down. It was now more of a cylinder shape.
"it seems so virgil. hopefully i can take form soon." Stan sounded tired and Virgil frowned: that was his job. He sat cross-legged and reveled in the feelings of warmth and calmness that washed over him.
"Well, in the meantime..." Virgil smiled, shuffling in his pocket. "Wanna play cards?"
~
Roman charged forwards, clashing with his enemy with such force that the shock wave disturbed the birds in the trees nearby.
The Prince didn't hesitate, but struck again: clashing sword against axe, until he finally managed to trip the troll up with his fancy footwork.
Panting, Roman walked over to the defeated foe, and pinned him down by resting on the trolls chest with his ornate boot.
"What sent you into this Kingdom?" The troll blinked up at the Prince and gaped...Roman didn't blame him. Being creativity had its perks...
The troll was panting hard, clothes marred by sweat and dirt.
Roman had looked quite the same until only a moment ago.
Noe he looked picture perfect: unblemished white suit practically blinding the rogue who could only stare timidly up at his captor.
Roman moved his sword to rest just above the trolls throat in answer to his stubborn silence.
"SPEAK."
"I - I - ""
"You come into MY Kingdom, scare MY subjects and, what? Did you poison this meadow or just introduce it to your personality?" Roman was seething, too angry to think of a good quip.
The grass around him was brown, brittle and lifeless. The flowers - which usually showed a whole spectrum of impossibly vivid colours - lay drooped, dead, and dull.
No one messes with Romans COLOUR SCHEME.
The troll visibly panicked, shaking and spluttering.
"It wasn't me, I - I swear!"
"Then WHO!?"
The Troll pointed shakily southwards, past Roman's head, where there looked like there was bad weather on the horizon. Roman turned to look, and frowned. He hadn't scheduled a thunderstorm? Perhaps Virgil was messing with him again...
Roman's split second loss of concentration gave the troll the opening it needed. He grabbed Romans' boot with both hands and pushed it up off his chest.
Roman fell heavily onto his back, the sword in his hand swiping down as he did so...
The troll screamed and scrambled away into the woods.
Dazed, Roman lifted his head, seeing nobody. He cursed and wiped his blade on the dead grass around him, slowly cleaning the black sludge off before pushing himself up onto his feet once more.
There was no death in the dreamscape. If a 'good' being like Roman was stabbed and injured, he would 'bleed' glitter. If he was outright killed he would simply respawn in his castle. Both events would leave the being tired and very sore, but essentially fine.
The same could be said for the 'bad' beings, though they 'bled' black goo and respawned deep in the darkest forests, usually taking some time.
Roman looked back at the threatening weather storm and dissipated it with a wave of his hand, frowning.
"Read the forecast." He said dully.
He sighed, puffed out his chest and began to run into the woods that surrounded him, but paused in his pursuit at the edge of the meadow.
He swiveled back round and fixed the clearing with another wave of his hand: the grass slowly became greener and softer. The flowers sprung back up almost comically.
There would be none of that today.
Romans' smile grew as he twirled around and leaped off after his quarry, not looking back once.
~
The deal Virgil had agreed to was 1:3 - for every hour he spent in the back of the mind with Stan, he had to spend at least three out of it. Stan had been very uneasy even with this compromise, wanting to make sure that this wouldn't effect Virgil or Thomas badly.
Virgil also had to have three sit down meals with the others every day.
He had agreed to these terms wholeheartedly, and surprised himself by settling into the new routine quickly.
He would never miss Pattons' face breaking out into a gigantic, ecstatic smile whenever Virgil moped into the kitchen for a meal.
Virgil had never really been the type to enjoy the social interaction that surrounded mealtime in the mindscape, but somehow the time spent in the back of the mind helped offset his unease enough so that Virgil could deal with it.
Roman had himself settled into a routine - though, as he was the representative of spontaneity, he would hardly admit this to himself.
Every day he would grab an early breakfast and spend all morning in the dreamscape.
His feet would take him almost automatically to the meadow. Its state each time had by now - four days in - stopped eliciting Roman's frustrated response.
Every morning, without fail, no matter what Roman had done to fix it the day before...the meadow was dead.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Trials, Traits and Truth
सामान्य साहित्यVirgil has been established as an important part of Thomas...and his counterparts were working on the rest. But after a while, they start to notice that he's becoming more influential, to the point that some can't accept. Is Virgil the bad guy? Or...
