Kalira's Randomness

It took almost a week - and several refined sketches made by people who could actually do those things, because while Ainosuke’s designs were sensible Langa was aware that his own weren’t very helpful - but finally Langa had more of an idea what he wanted, and Ainosuke had chosen his own updated look to complement it . . . or at least, a basis to move forward from. Langa frowned as he crossed his arms, taking a step back, and Ainosuke turned fully towards him instantly. ‟My darling?” Ainosuke questioned, and Langa shook his head. ‟No, it’s not right. I don’t like it.” Langa said, huffing a little. Ainosuke barely glanced at the screen. ‟I thought you liked this design best?” He frowned. ‟We can, of course, go back to one of the others,” he tapped a button, scrolling to another image, ‟or start over on this-” ‟No, not that either.” Langa said, shaking his head again.

‟I have begun to prepare the arrangements.” Tadashi supplied, and Langa glanced at him, surprised. Only a little, he guessed, because Tadashi did always know what Ainosuke would want, and usually had it ready before he even asked. ‟When you have decided upon your persona, Langa-kun,” he inclined his head, ‟and the designs have been settled, the timeline can be determined and all is ready to proceed for such an event.” ‟Excellent.” Ainosuke said, rich with satisfaction, and Langa sat down to watch as the tailor finished with his boyfriend. It was much less of a scramble than when it had been him, he kept thinking. The man prodded for answers when he stepped away again, focusing on Langa, but Langa frowned, shaking his head, and leaned thoughtlessly back for space, and Ainosuke dismissed him promptly, Tadashi stepping forward to escort him away before he could say anything more. ‟We’ll call him when we’re ready.” Ainosuke said dismissively when Langa apologised - he hadn’t really thought. . . He wasn’t sure what he wanted to choose, but he definitely couldn’t with a stranger leaning over him impatiently, in his face, and he hadn’t even really thought that much yet. ‟When you have chosen what you would like, he can begin work on a design to your specifications; he doesn’t need to be here for that, we can send him the information later and he will do as he is hired.”

As she had known, seen, the horrors usually relegated to the shadowy corners of his heart by his conscious mind were now creeping out to ensnare him, forming into a shadowy, sticky morass. They foamed away to ash beneath her regard, and she blew soft warmth into his soul in their place, chasing away even the echoes. Her beloved sighed as the nightmares dissipated, the furrowed lines that seemed at times to be graven into his expression - into the lines of this still-new face - smoothing out. Contentment thrummed through her, and she allowed her doubts to fade away as well, along with the still raw, throbbing ache of what they had lost. The loss that should have taken them, as well. Choices she had made, in haste and fear and love, they were behind her now for good or ill. Always, they had followed the path they chose, rushing wild - and while much they might change or cheat, cleverness and stubbornness brought to bear, there were some things beyond even them. All that is left to us now is to go on, my beloved, as we always have; you and I together, to the end and back, and for all we have lost we shall never be truly alone.

Still, he hung on even tighter - and still, Vergil didn’t try to shake him off, only watched him with a sharp, familiar gaze. ‟We were always different.” Dante said, and Vergil twitched, jaw tightening. ‟But- but we were always-” ‟Dante.” Vergil’s voice was sliding into a growl, which probably meant he would throw Dante off soon, even if he was still listening. ‟We belong - you and me, together, I mean.” Dante spoke faster, holding his twin’s gaze. ‟You idiot.” Vergil said, one corner of his lips ticking upwards. He drew his sword, and Dante’s eyes widened - they had fought with blades before and likely would again, but generally they kept to the same level. Dante had grabbed him, so Vergil should be thinking of punching or backhanding him, not- Vergil twirled the Yamato lightly, a sweeping slash through the air that doubled back on itself, coming nowhere near Dante.

The Queens take a relaxing - if not quiet - break together, in a private glade watched over by the singing trees.