#( melvi dormentaire / closedcoffins. ) you’re just the devil but i’m on your level / so drag me down now

[c4rdsharp]

💌 for melvi

Amore mio caro, My, you're certainly getting antsy, aren't you? Your words are calm and aching sweet, but your handwriting deceives you -- your previous message is littered in errors & little inconsistencies. Nothing to be too alarmed about, I'm sure, but you know you can be forth right with me if something is bothering you, my dear. Ah, but, I know what it is that is bothering you, don't I? For that, I must apologize. It's rude of me to ask questions I already know the answer to. Still, you know there is nothing to be done. Work required me to be out of the state and, as much as I had wanted to take you along, this isn't a vacation. I know -- you wouldn't have treated it as such such. You would've been very professional. I can already see your attempts to convince me otherwise in handwriting, that you had some right to accompany me on my trip. Perhaps you do. Perhaps you'll still write to me in the hopes I'll see the 'error' of my ways, and ask for you to forgive my folly. However, you know very well that is not to be the case. Not from my want of stubbornness -- you must know this pains me just as much as it pains you to be separated like this -- but, simply from what we had discussed prior to my leaving. The nature of this business would be detrimental to you in particular, and if there is any risk for your personal safety, I'd rather not give our enemies the opportunity to cause you undue harm. You may have this understood rationally, but it seems you're still betraying a small bit of spite from your soul. You'll probably write that you have no soul; I'm not here to argue that. You know what I'd say, I'm sure. I'd rather not waste ink on pointless arguments we could have in person. In any event, I have already started on work and will be home once it has been done. For an estimate, I will say -- 3 weeks? Give or take? I'm sure you can handle yourself until then, can't you? You know I prioritize efficiency, nor do I wish to stay here any longer than I have to be. If this was not for the family itself, I'd never bother to leave New York in the first place. More importantly, however, I'd never leave you. I am rambling. I would say you'd know how I'd get with letters, but I suspect this is the first time we have had a committed long correspondence with one another. I don't recall one much earlier, at the very least. I'm sure the long - winded nature of my written meanderings doesn't surprise you, all the same. You listen to me talk. Especially in private. You know I'm never one for getting to the heart of the matter. To writ: 3 weeks, then I will return home. Back to you, love. I expect another letter within that time frame. Perhaps with a bit less restraint of your spiteful nature. Or, an approximation of it. We both know your anger towards me doesn't last very long. I do and will severely miss during our time apart. Per sempre tua, Luck Gandor

letters / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

“ melvi . . . “ As if he was running out of words to say, he murmured his lover’s name once more into the evening air. Gently, he grabbed the hand holding onto his cheek, interlocking his fingers through the spaces between. As he turned his face slightly to the side, Luck pulled Melvi’s hand a little bit downwards and closed his eyes, pressing his lips into the other’s open palm.

He stayed there for a good several seconds, softly breathing. It wasn’t for lack of a response that Luck stayed silent – on the contrary, he had a great many things to say. A variety of words and phrases entered his mind and have yet to stop circulating through it, interchanged by other words and phrases before being discarded & replaced as well. Nothing felt right, though. Even with all the words in the world, nothing could ever feel enough to explain the complex emotions running through his heart right now.

It was a menagerie of emotion – most of which he could ascertain was being positive. It wasn’t an overly unpleasant feeling, just . . . complicated and marked by an unassuming strength. If he had to give a guess, he could say he felt happy, but that didn’t seem enough. No, joy? Euphoria? Gratitude? But there were also elements of sorrow in there – there was something bittersweet to the flavor of his feelings, like he couldn’t quite get rid of the sadness that came from a sacrifice.

even if this is what Melvi wants, even if this is what i also want, the fact it comes with such a huge price . . .

Luck was a selfish person. No matter what anyone said, that was always going to be true. He wouldn’t go so far as to call himself evil – a villain, perhaps, but not an evil one. He lacked conviction either way to really say he’s doing it for some notion of an ideal. Even the want to protect his family and those serving under him are but selfish desires to maintain his right over the world. He would never kill for pleasure, but he would kill for his own future, the very state of it. And, he suspected that part of his personality will never change, even when he’s busy cleaning his hands free of the stains that mark them.

my selfishness is a part of who i am. i don’t think there is a single human being on this planet who isn’t selfish to some degree. in fact, isn’t my want to leave this life of crime behind selfish in its own right, too?

It was because he wasn’t happy that he sought to leave the world of crime – nothing more. There was no moral outrage, no personal disgust. Luck has lost all sense of that the moment he swore his loyalty to the family. The fact he is choosing to leave at all for his own personal wants meant there were no heroics or sainthood at play. He simply yearned for a different life.

if that makes me a villain still, then i’ll bear the mark throughout my life. i’m not scared of that, but . . .

Luck’s eyes fluttered open, almost glowing yellow in the darkness as he peered into Melvi’s face. There was nothing to his expression save for a slight hint of that sorrow within the joy, a mixture of so many feelings it was hard to extrapolate what it was he was thinking inside. Warm breaths kissed the top of Melvi’s knuckles as Luck inhaled and exhaled.

“ . . . i’d never stop you, if that is what you want. if doing this will make you happy . . . then, by all means, you can follow me wherever i go. “ How characteristic of Luck, to not say he wanted nothing more than to have Melvi by his side. Perhaps these feelings would be a lot less complicated if he was more honest to himself about them. “ it won’t be easy, though. you might have to let go of a few luxuries. “ Luck chuckled, trying to alleviate some of the tension. Such a serious expression didn’t suit his beloved, after all. “ i hope you’re prepared for such a hefty sacrifice. you won't have any right to complain once you do make it. “

"Luck."

He's rarely so serious when they're alone, but this feels warranted---like if he were to respond in any other way, then Luck wouldn't believe just how much he means what he says.

Melvi has always liked that Luck is concerned about how free he feels to choose what he wants to do. Luck understands his circumstances better than most others through Melvi's decision to tell him about those circumstances. Melvi wasn't always free to make choices like that---his decisions in the past were made from a sense of obligation. Even during his initial employment as a dealer, he'd made a lot of choices only based on the fact that that was what he had to do.

But he knows choosing the Family wouldn't mean losing Luck, and he'd also known Luck would never demand anything of him.

"I don't intend to lie to you about what I want. I enjoy my work now and I like being a part of this life, and I know you understand that about me."

(There's a quiet voice in his head that repeats, over and over: you're evil for liking it. Melvi agrees, privately, but he knows not to voice it now.)

"But you didn't need to ask me, Luck. I'm not saying I'll come along because I feel some sort of obligation to. I'm saying it because I love you." Melvi moves his hand, gently, so he can hold Luck's face. "The fact of the matter is that I have spent this long making a life of my own, so now that it's been made I should be free to do whatever I want with it. And I want to go with you. That wouldn't have ever been in question. If you're really only protesting because you're worried about what I want, then please rest assured that I don't ever intend to put myself through anything I really don't want to do."

Really, he's still not able to abandon his frantic thoughts about his own morality. If Luck is horribly unsuited for a life of crime, then Melvi is horribly unsuited for most anything else---he thinks there will always be some itching beneath his skin that reminds him he'll never have the capacity to truly be a good person like Luck might with enough time.

He doesn't even want to be a good person, really.

But he wants Luck, in any way he can have him. He doesn't want to end up like Keith and Berga, constantly getting prevented from returning home to their wives---at least as it is now, Melvi sees Luck during the day when there's some sort of hold-up.

"If you'd rather I stay where I am, then I will. But what I want is to be wherever it is you are."

[c4rdsharp]

melvi : we are birds of a feather, mr. gandor :) (we both hear 'Look What You Made Me Do' and think that's us) luck : don't compare me to the likes of you. (at least i know it's fucking cringe, you wannabe.)

[c4rdsharp]

sleepy ,  domestic morning kisses in the kitchen while making breakfast . - luckmelvi :)

The kitchen was small. As far back as Luck would recall, there was never much space for the whole of the Gandor family to fit in it. Many of his childhood mornings were spent squeezing through bodies & shuffling through cabinet doors, sometimes in an attempt to sneak around his eldest brother. They had wanted for nothing, but some habits die hard – their father, who lived as many poverty - stricken immigrants did, was used to a life existing without food. As such, the brothers weren’t allowed more than their right to share ; anything bigger than 1 serving size was deemed selfish & discouraged upon. It was a rule even Berga respected, mindful of his cooking habits. Keith would enforce it as well as he could, and it was often a game between Luck and Claire to see who could get away with the most food from the cabinets.

i think Claire had been in the lead.

His gaze drifted towards the all - too familiar scratches & chipped marks along the opposing cabinet doors. Luck’s back was pressed to the counter, a cup of warm coffee lifted to his lips. A soft, pinkish light filtered through the window. He’s been told a number of times how beautiful the dawn was outside of the city – hell, apartments with a sunny view were especially wanted in New York – and, perhaps it was, but it was never something Luck particularly wanted. For one, the sun would be too harsh. If he had a window right at eye level, it would be rather bothersome, especially if he were to be cooking. Besides, he had always preferred sunsets.

He took another sip of his coffee, feeling the quiet morning air. Not that New York City was ever quiet ; he could make out the rumbling of cars on the street, passing by and the tired stampede of pedestrians, their soft murmurs barely perceptible to his ears. The city had never gone to bed. It worked through the night tirelessly and it barely yawned through the morning.

much like myself.

It brought a smile to his lips as the humdrum continued, a sonorous symphony composed of feet, blacktop, and roadways, taxis & Fords, the babble of neighbors above & below his head, barely woken up themselves. He stayed like that for a few minutes, taking it in all . . . until he then heard a more prominent melody enter the picture.

The lethargic shuffle of feet brought his attention back to the entrance, his face returning to one of neutrality as a familiar shape shambled through the threshold.

“ ah, good morning, mio amore. i was wondering when you’d get up. uou . . . didn’t have any trouble with sleep last night, did you? “ It was an earnest question. Although Melvi & Luck shared a room together, it wasn’t as if Luck could really tell how decently his partner slept. Sure, he could warrant a guess, but all - in - all, he knew better. Melvi would’ve preferred to be asked than for Luck to assume ; neither of them really enjoyed the feeling of being helpless, so to speak.

However, Melvi did sleep in more than usual. Such didn’t warrant Luck to be worried, but slight changes to their routines does pique his radar for trouble.

He watched as Melvi mumbled something under his breath – a greeting, perhaps, an answer. Luck couldn’t quite make out what it was, but he assumed by the rather short response, there was nothing to be talked about – either because there was nothing wrong or because Melvi just didn’t wish to disclose. It didn’t matter to Luck as his partner walked over, a look of tired thought on his face.

he must be thinking about breakfast. Luck placed aside his coffee cup as he ran through their rather limited menu options. Neither of them were huge on cooking & breakfast tended to be quite light : Luck disliked wasting time on food & Melvi was usually pretty eager to leave for work with him whenever it was possible. It never bothered either of them to be Spartan with their diet, but . . . watching Melvi contemplate their meager food choices, Luck spoke up.

“ i was thinking . . . since i don’t need to go into work just yet, perhaps we could have breakfast elsewhere? i’ve heard some wonderful things about the cafe just around the corner. if you would like, we could head over there. “ Luck paused as he allowed that to sink in. Truthfully, some of that was a life. No consideration had been made whatsoever. In fact, Luck already had breakfast, but that was hours ago and he doubted Melvi was awake enough to call him out on the bullshit.

Nor did he really have the morning off, but that point was moot when you were the boss. Somehow, the desire to wait for Melvi outweighed his desire for productivity – it was strange. Luck never considered himself to be that type of person before, but it felt . . . wrong to leave while Melvi was still sleeping. He decided to wait for him to at least say goodbye, but, well . . .

it seems i had other plans.

Moving forward, Luck gently gripped Melvi’s arm and pulled him in for a soft, but short, gentle kiss. The other didn’t have time to react to Luck’s quick affections, but that was alright. There were plenty of other opportunities in the day to make up for it. Pulling away, he smiled with an unusually soft expression, one often only reserved for Melvi and one he was sure he would never make again. How funny time works out.

Luck cupped his cheek and rubbed soft circles into it, as if to wake him up a little – enough to get a response, at least. “ if you'd prefer, i could request delivery. you don’t seem to be in much of a rush this morning, so i won't push you to leave the house just yet, but . . . well, you know we don’t have all day. “

kiss and tell / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

[ TOLD ]  for receiver to open up about something to sender after sex. - also melvi

The first thing Luck discovered about himself when it came to intimacy . . . was that it was hard to put back on the mask after it was all said and done. If it were with anyone else, this may have been an issue, a cause for concern, a weakness to be exploited . . . but, thankfully, not just anyone was privy to what he had to say underneath the covers. It was almost a little ironic. The man now curled up beside him, laying his arm overtop his waist in a semi - loose fashion, was not the sort of man he ought to be exposed to. Once upon a time, it would've practically been a suicide, but now . . . now, he didn't think anything of it. The irony had lost its bitter flavor over the years and was barely even there. Now, it just made sense. Somehow, it felt as if it were a logical conclusion, a predictable & sensible end. Who else was Luck meant to spend his midnight hours with, unraveling all the things buried deep in his soul? Who else was meant to see him strip down to the bone, digging past skin & flesh to the blood underneath? This was more than just exposure. For him, this was more than just the removal of clothes & linen. This was the removal of all he was, put aside into nice little boxes & packed away for safe - keeping. That's how it felt anyway, when he showed himself to Melvi. It was no surprise Luck's favorite time of the day was the darkened hour just before sleep, that moment where the world is all cast in shadow & the room shrunk down into the comforts of his bed. Where all voices soft & loud are muffled by the darkness. Anything heard now and seen now are kept to Nothing, their memories only kept in the hollow spaces between the flickering of the lights. In that sort of atmosphere, anything could be said and never heard from again. Perhaps that's why Luck found himself now, after exertion & pleasure, detailing to Melvi the very thoughts he would never tell himself. The secrets even his soul couldn't bear to keep. " . . . do you remember when i had asked you . . . if we deserved happiness? " He wasn't quite sure where to start, or what he even was starting to begin with, but that's where his lips went first, it's what his tongue decided to say all on its own. " . . . it is not because i believe that it is something we have earned. you're right ; it's not something we deserve in the sense of the word. we are no saints, you especially. " The chuckle rumbled from his chest at that. " neither of us are free of stains. i'm not delusional enough to convince myself of that . . . but . . . " Luck's eyebrows then pulled forward and knit together into a somewhat . . . difficult expression. Was it sorrow or anger he was feeling? He couldn't say. Just a difficult, unpleasant feeling that chilled him through his veins. " . . . i have . . . do you think, even if we don't deserve happiness, it really is possible . . . we can have a life where we don't stain the lives of others? " . . . do i always sound like a pretentious, literary novel? He sighed. " i mean . . . our hands are already dirty enough with the sins we've committed. it was never a point of concern for us, because the only things we've touched were already stained by years of violence. " Including us. " however, if we . . . if one of us, i should say, wanted to have a chance to touch something with those stained hands and not leave behind the marks of their ruination . . . would it be possible to do so? " Luck could never be direct in his wanderings, could he? But that was alright . . . he was safe to do that in the company of Melvi. Melvi always did have a penchant for understanding his poetry.

emotional intimacy starters / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ - melvi

Luck focused his eyes onto Melvi’s outstretched hand, considering for a moment what to do with it. He wasn’t much of a dancer – if anything, he’d consider himself the opposite of one. Yes, he could ballroom dance pretty decently, but he had only managed to pick up the bare basics of the concept. Dancing, overall, required a comfort and mobility in one's own body that Luck didn’t have. He was much too . . . stiff for it.

well, it’s not as if i know i’m a bad dancer or not. i’ve only ever entertained partners enough to feel i do about an average job, but . . . it isn’t my calling, that’s for sure.

If it weren’t for the fact Melvi was the one asking, Luck would’ve politely declined outright. He disliked the way people stared at him whenever he moved his way onto the dancefloor, and the awkwardness with which he moved his body always left him feeling nauseated. However, being that the room was scarce of observers and Melvi wasn’t the dancing sort himself . . . Luck figured it wouldn’t hurt to humor him, if only for a little while.

“ . . . i didn’t think you were the type. since when has dancing ever interested you? “ Giving Melvi his signature airy smile, Luck accepted his open palm and followed him out to the dancefloor – or, rather, an open space large enough for two people to dance in. This wasn’t a room meant for such a thing, but they could make due with what was in there – or, what wasn’t in there. The fact was the space was only large enough for them as there were barely any obstacles to hinder their paths, chairs & tables kept to the sides. Luck supposed, as long as they were mindful of the distance, they could get by without any sort of incidental bruising.

not that it would last.

“ has the music struck a chord with you, or is this merely a chance at another human experience? “ Regardless of Luck’s attempts to keep his own personal feelings at bay, there was a fondness hiding in his smile, and even his voice held a slight quiver of warmth to it. As if his January winter was forming into spring. Ah, but better not to think much about it though. After all, it was already enough he was giving Melvi the honor to dance with him, isn’t it?

various question starters / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

meechi. not to be talking about Luck & Melvi parallels on main, but. I really do constantly about that 'we're birds of a feather' comment from Melvi, because there's a lot more truth to it than as it appears. specifically, i'm thinking about how the two of them lack an identity -- all Melvi sees is his own inhumanity & all Luck sees in himself is the Gandor family name. Luck being the face means he has to forgo his own personal interests & wants to serve the family to the best of his ability. This was a sacrifice he was willing to make, mind you, but it does leave Luck without really much of a life outside his own work & business abilities. The two have to put on their own individual facades to convince people that this is what they're like, this is who they are, but in actuality, the two have barely established anything about themselves beyond the goals they've personally tied themselves to.

[c4rdsharp]

❝  i’m glad i decided to stay.  ❞ - melvi.

     Melvi’s words disappeared into the shadows. It was that time of the evening where such thoughts could be stashed into nowhere, never heard beyond the darkness & warmth closing in. That time of day where all was insubstantial, unreal. Weightless, like smoke.      It was the time Luck liked best.      He could only make out Melvi’s form & face in the half - light that was their room, sunken down into bedsheets & covers. Living in a city, it was impossible for a room at night to remain in pitch - black totality. Amber glows of the street light casted a faint copper shadow, and the moving silver of headlights danced momentarily along the walls before disappearing completely back into that insubstantial blackness. Where all places & people & words go back to in the end.      It was also never totally silent. One would think that’d be such a hinderance, but it had never bothered Luck. On the contrary, it was something he quite liked. The liveliness of New York City at night, the bustle of cars & buses driving down roads. The noises of a somewhat - inebriated party cheerfully shouting along the sidewalks. The happy chatter of pedestrians returning from a nightly Broadway show. It was only ever dead silent at 3 past the witching hour, and it had always unsettled him.      But, not right now. It wasn’t that time yet. There was still a wakefulness to the city that never sleeps, and there was still a wakefulness to his partner right beside him -- despite the exhaustion, despite the activity. It was only a matter of time before it would all catch up to them & they’d crash into deep slumber, a period of weightless nothing, but before then, they could enjoy the alert peace of the unwavering city street lights. And each other.      Turning onto his side, Luck huffed and smiled at the semi - obscured Melvi right beside him, feeling just the faintest bit of warmth radiating from the other’s skin. “ you make it sound as if you didn’t want to, “ he chuckled, raising a hand to cup Melvi’s cheek, “ if i didn’t know any better, i would say you had made that decision entirely on your own. before even i could have a say in it. it seemed you were quite determined to not leave me alone for the evening, anyway. “      Of course, it hadn’t escaped Luck the double - meaning behind Melvi’s words. Yes, he may have referred to this singular weightless night, but Luck could detect the traces deeper into the underdark, to the more tangible decisions from long, long ago.      or, perhaps . . . it’s just me. in this moment, just now . . . i’m thankful you’ve stayed.      His thumb brushed over Melvi’s cheek as he peered into his eyes, the one bit of illumination he could otherwise see in the husky twilight.      i’m glad you’ve stayed with the Family. i’m glad you’ve stayed alive. most importantly, though . . .      There was a softness in Luck’s smile that was far more real than the night they were draped in. “ . . . i’m glad you’ve decided to stay, too. “      i’m glad you’ve decided to stay with me.

emotional intimacy starters / @closedcoffins​   

[c4rdsharp]

     meechi. bitch sometimes it’s an immortal 1930s gangster with a heart of gold underneath all that ice & iron trying to maintain his own humanity in spite of his growing apathy, and an immortal homunculi learning what it means to be human through redemption & kindness after years spent wallowing away in hatred & rage, against the world, man. Man.

[c4rdsharp]

melvi : what was it you were hoping i'd bring to the table -- quiet obedience? no, i bring the storm, i bring chaos and your imminent destruction. you made a mistake.

luck, sighing : ...melvi, can't we just have a normal dinner for once?

[c4rdsharp]

a kiss on the underside of the jaw. - melvi :D

     Luck’s skin tingled where Melvi’s lips pressed against it, annoying it pleasant. He huffed through his nostrils as he becomes forced to comply to their new positioning, having been brought to discomfort now by the other’s insistence on pressing contact. Oh, there was probably an unobtrusive means of giving him affection, but that wasn’t Melvi’s sort of sport. No, he had to be as much of an inconvenience as he possibly could, didn’t he? It seemed to be the only trait incapable of erasure.      not that i want to be any different than he is now, as much as he likes to test my patience . . .      Luck moved his arm and laid it around Melvi’s lower back, hoping this would at least be enough to appease him for a short while yet. It wasn’t a particularly strong hope ; he knew the other would just sliding closer & closer, as much as he could get away with, until Luck wouldn’t be able to completely ignore him. Not that Luck could, mind you, but he was prone to distraction by his novels during the early evenings. Enough so that he may momentarily forget where he is & who is in his company. A state of being Melvi was almost never happy with. Almost.      Some nights he could be quite pleasant, reading over Luck’s shoulder to whatever portion he’s managed to sneak in on. Luck liked those nights the best. Aside from the pleasant quiet, it was just . . . nice to share his interests with someone who cared for them, that’s all. It was rare to have someone else invested into novels alongside him. Most days, he was surrounded by people who could often care less what the popular literature had to say -- dime store bought or otherwise. To have that sort of thing with someone he so ardently adored . . . it was lovely. Tranquil. For almost a few moments, he could almost convince himself this was the life he had lived up until now. Peaceful, domestic . . . . but, almost.      Of course, Melvi wasn’t like that every night.      he’s been at it for at least 15 minutes. rather vexatious tonight, isn’t he?      Luck turned a page, and glanced over at the now - somewhat - satiated Melvi. A few seconds of silence followed, before Luck sighed and turned his attention back to the novel sitting in his lap.      “ . . . if you behave long enough for me to finish this chapter, i may humor you for the night. if you behave. “ He was emphatic on the condition. “ keep pestering me as you’ve been doing and i’ll add another chapter. 7 pages. do you think you’re capable of sitting still that long? “ A note of amusement could be heard under his seemingly irritated expression.

spots to kiss / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

shiplist! w/ melvi :)

     LIAR DANCE / deco*27 ( cover by rachie )

" you got me! " " no wait, i've got no clue, what could you mean? " caught you again today, again you slip away from me you're sinking digging your grave deeper and deeper down for all your talk, i see you're nothing but a helpless clown

     CALM ME DOWN / mother mother

all my life i hurt myself and cut myself put myself through living hell all so i could feel what i felt when you took me in absolved my sins with your flesh and skin use your skin

     CLUSTERHUG / i don't how but they found me

darling, you're a holy quarantine new romantic philistine we can turn around we can burn this town to ash as charming as we are we are nothing but pretty trash

     HONORABLE MENTION:      UNDEAD ALICE / deco*27 ( cover by rachie )

it's as i thought, the more i chase my dreams the more the thought of you starts breaking at the seams endurance, sacrifice, it's all the same turning you gently with these hands so full of stains

ship list! / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

“I’ll never feel the same again.” - melvi

     If it were anyone else saying such things, Luck would've blamed it on the drink. He's seen his fair share of pathetic drinkers, consuming all their sorrow in burning whisky and fiery absinthe, like it'll cleanse them of their sins. A falsehood mired in nothing but illusion, an evolution of one's own folly.      But, Melvi wasn't drunk enough. He couldn't get drunk, from what Luck understood. Whether that was because of his nature as a homunculi or the immortality, Luck couldn't say, but ultimately shooting down vodka as much as he wants wasn't going to give him the desired end he craves, which was oblivion. Luck didn't need to use his empathy to figure that one out ; Melvi was just wearing that kind of face. The expression of a man staring into a void, and wanting to fall into it. There were a lot of men who came into the Coraggioso with that kind of expression, with those kinds of words. Men who lacked drive & discipline, aimless cowards who drown themselves in self - pity. That wasn't the kind of man Melvi was. No, the person talking to Luck right now was a complete stranger -- he was almost hesitant to keep giving him a name.      whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles . . . so he's not in the third act, is he?      Despite his sardonic rumination, there was no pleasure to be had in it. If anything, he just simply felt . . . empty. Once upon a time, seeing Melvi in such a pathetic state would've had Luck in the throes of vindication. Or so he tells himself. But now, being faced with it, seeing the angry light that once burned so deep now extinguished, it was like watching a proud empire crumble into ruin, savaged by time & greed. It was seeing something great collapse into ash & rubble and, as much as it pained Luck to admit, Melvi's drive was something great indeed. There was nothing to be had in this victory ; hell, Luck wasn't even sure it was worth calling it a victory. It was just sad.      a tragedy . . . just like a play.      He lit a cigarette, refraining to answer for a few seconds more. Leaning back into the chair, he crossed his legs and looked up towards the ceiling, eyes and mind elsewhere. Luck's fingers drummed the table several times before stopping and finding their way back to his cigarette, lifting it free of his lips. Smoke pooled into the air, hanging heavy.      " . . . you wanted to feel, didn't you? something other than your anger and frustration . . . ought i to congratulate you or give you my condolences? " He directed his gaze back towards Melvi, piercing and cold . . . but strangely somber, as if he wanted to cry in Melvi's stead. " i did say the loneliness would crush you, didn't i? "

lyric sentences / @closedcoffins

[c4rdsharp]

     QUICK TAG DUMP.

     ( melvi dormentaire / closedcoffins. ) you’re just the devil but i’m on your level / so drag me down now