WHO: Verso and Monoco WHEN: A few days after the Wilting Festival WHERE: The castle WHAT: Verso finds a letter from Monoco. NOTES/WARNINGS: None, will tag as needed.
It is clear that our friendship has reached its pinnacle. Thus I must challenge you to The Talk.
Few bonds remain unscathed, let alone intact. It is inevitable that the weak link gives in and loses the fight. You are the the weak link, of course, but with my discipline and mastery, I will win for both of us.
Together we will fight in The Talk and prevail, or we shall perish. It is up to us.
Verso stands still, pale eyes roaming across the flourish of Monoco's elegant hand for the third time as the letter's meaning fully registers.
They've reached a "pinnacle," have they? And he's the weak link?
The note sounds like an insult dressed for court, a war summons with all the courtesies of an invitation for tea. From anyone else, "We need to talk" would fill him with that universal, bone‑deep dread, but Monoco frames the conversation like they're already making their last stand at a crumbling fortress. Quite frankly, Verso can't tell whether he's being called for a confessional or a brawl.
Realizing that no amount of standing around will decode Monoco's intentions, Verso clutches the letter and sweeps out of his quarters, his stride purposeful but his mind still stuck on the phrase "or we shall perish".
He reaches the common room and halts. Monoco is already there, standing by the fireplace.
"Monoco," he begins, holding the letter aloft between his fingers. "Are you—were you waiting for me to read this?"
When Verso emerges from his room, Monoco is quiet. His arms are folded over his barrel chest watching his friend thoughtfully. Though the challenge began the moment the letter touched Verso's hand, he does not plow forward. This challenge requires thoughtful planning.
"I have been waiting for you for a long time."
Oops. That wasn't much like a thoughtful plan. It's out of his him before Monoco can stop it. But he must stand by it now. Hold strong and face Verso's counter assault.
He casts a quick glance downward, searching for the right meaning behind those words. Monoco could be talking about the minutes spent waiting by the fireplace. Or something far older, something Verso never saw coming.
He exhales, bracing himself for whatever comes next.
"Well, I'm here now," Verso says, folding his arms in a gesture not unlike Monoco's own stance, letter still held loosely in one hand. His smile is faint, dry, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Care to explain?"
Standing as mirror images of each other, the silence stretches between them like a weapon. Monoco's weapon, of course. It is all part of the fight; every motion and word another tactic to overwhelm or disarm his opponent.
But he must speak eventually, so he does. Eventually.
He isn't sure what Monoco's silence intends, but he endures it, waiting like he has through their petty wars of attrition. He can't fix what he can't name.
When Monoco finally clarifies, Verso cocks his head, an eyebrow lifting in quiet invitation.
"What brought this on, mon vieux?" he asks. "We duel, don't we? I know it's, uh... not the same as getting cut in half by Nevrons. But I am trying. Are you saying my blades don't scratch that itch?"
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The Talk
no subject
They've reached a "pinnacle," have they? And he's the weak link?
The note sounds like an insult dressed for court, a war summons with all the courtesies of an invitation for tea. From anyone else, "We need to talk" would fill him with that universal, bone‑deep dread, but Monoco frames the conversation like they're already making their last stand at a crumbling fortress. Quite frankly, Verso can't tell whether he's being called for a confessional or a brawl.
Realizing that no amount of standing around will decode Monoco's intentions, Verso clutches the letter and sweeps out of his quarters, his stride purposeful but his mind still stuck on the phrase "or we shall perish".
He reaches the common room and halts. Monoco is already there, standing by the fireplace.
"Monoco," he begins, holding the letter aloft between his fingers. "Are you—were you waiting for me to read this?"
no subject
"I have been waiting for you for a long time."
Oops. That wasn't much like a thoughtful plan. It's out of his him before Monoco can stop it. But he must stand by it now. Hold strong and face Verso's counter assault.
no subject
He exhales, bracing himself for whatever comes next.
"Well, I'm here now," Verso says, folding his arms in a gesture not unlike Monoco's own stance, letter still held loosely in one hand. His smile is faint, dry, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Care to explain?"
no subject
But he must speak eventually, so he does. Eventually.
"You never surprise me with fights anymore."
no subject
When Monoco finally clarifies, Verso cocks his head, an eyebrow lifting in quiet invitation.
"What brought this on, mon vieux?" he asks. "We duel, don't we? I know it's, uh... not the same as getting cut in half by Nevrons. But I am trying. Are you saying my blades don't scratch that itch?"