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virgilantejustice · 5 years

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Sea of stars: the infection

Well, @depressed-but-doing-my-best, here you go! It’s maybe not my best writing, but I’m fond of it all the same.

Trigger warnings: Mention of past death, i think that’s it?

Word count: Approx 1600!!

Pairings: Logicality

Chapter one. Chapter two. Chapter three. (This fits in here in the chronology). on the church steps Heartbreak.

masterpost link

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The sun had set an hour ago. The church was swathed in darkness, save for the small bubble of light and heat that the fire provided.

Logan could feel Patton’s weight on his chest as he leant against him and twisted his somewhat ragged tie around in his fingers, humming quietly. Virgil sat on Logan’s left, fiddling with some string and twigs. Logan kept looking over at what they were doing, but couldn’t quite piece the object that they were constructing together in his mind.

“There,” they said proudly, but quietly, seemingly more to themself than to the others.

“Whacha got there kiddo?” Patton asked, stopping his mindless humming and shifting slightly on Logan to look.

Virgil recoiled slightly, not looking uncomfortable per say, more surprised at the question. They held out their creation into the light of the fire with a smile on their face. “I thought it was a little quiet in here is all.” It was a small set of panpipes.

“Did you play the panpipes?” Logan asked, chuckling slightly at Patton’s protests as he sat up a little straighter to see.

Virgil simply shrugged in reply and placed them to their lips, trying them out. Logan wasn’t entirely sure how they had gotten the sound so clear with just twigs, but the sound rang as clear as crystal.

A small tune filled the air, wandering down the pews and swelling sweetly to fill the slightly cavernous room.

Patton clapped long and hard when Virgil finished, and they nodded their head in a little bow, making them both laugh.

“Not bad,” Logan remarked, his voice shaking slightly from Patton’s excited clapping as he was still leaning on him. They must have caught him looking so intrigued at the pipes and they handed them to him. Logan passed them over in his hands, they must have spent a while on them, the pipes were straight and the bindings strong.

“Well, I used to be into music,” they shrugged as Logan handed them back.

Patton sat up, and Logan immediately missed his warmth. “Why’d You give it up?” he asked, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his folded legs.

Virgil didn’t give an answer other than gesturing around the room with it’s peeling paint and smashed windows and giving them a mock-whithering look.

“Aw, but that’s no reason to give up your hobbies,” Patton said.

Then something clicked in Logan’s mind. “You’ve never heard Patton sing before, have you?” he asked.

“No?” they replied, sounding uncertain.

“You’re in for quite a treat.”

Patton swatted playfully at him. “Oh, stop,” he giggled, his breath warming Logan’s face.

Virgil still looked uncertain over what was happening. “Go on,” Logan urged, nudging Patton’s arm. “Show them.”

“Only if you play along,” Patton said, rolling his eyes and smiling.

Smiling himself, Logan went into the room at the back of the church where they kept most of their supplies, but he wasn’t looking for a can of food or a bottle of water or a scrap of clothing this time, as were most of the things that filled the place, he was looking for something far more special.

“Here it is,” he exclaimed, holding his prize firmly in his hand as he went back into the chapel.

“You can play the guitar?!” Virgil exclaimed, looking up at Logan like he was some kind of apparition.

“Is that so surprising?” Logan replied. He supposed it must have been, he didn’t exactly seem like the most artsy type. But after so many years of having nothing to do and an over excitable scavenger, apparently you end up with a salvaged guitar and some self-taught skills.

Logan ran his hand over the scratched and faded writing on the side for what must have been the millionth time. The words didn’t mean anything to him, probably just the name of the maker of the instrument, but there was something about them, a tie to a world that he’d lost.

Softly strumming his hand over the strings, Logan tweaked with the tuning pegs a little before turning back to Patton who was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Can we do Our Song?” he asked hopefully, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“We can do whatever song you like,” Logan replied, lining up his hand for the starting chord.

Patton noticed Virgil’s slight confusion and began to explain. “When Logan learned the guitar, I showed him a song that I had written with my sister before-” He cut off suddenly with a sharp breath. Logan placed a hand on his arm but he gently shook him off, smiling. “It’s just a nice way to remember her, y'know.”

Something flickered across Virgil’s face too quickly to register at the mention of Before, but the thought was quickly pushed aside as Patton began to sing.

Unsurprisingly, Patton had an incredibly sweet voice, and soared over high notes as easily as a swan through the water. It was that kind of voice that you simply couldn’t not listen to, even if for some reason you wanted to.

The song was about the sea, the salt, the water, the sky; the lyrics and the chords melting together like waves on it’s surface. It came up and down and up again, the words winding and rhyming and swirling around like a hymn, like a siren song, but one that lured you to real treasure.

It ended on a plagal cadence, the final notes hanging on the air as if by delicate silver threads, years of practice leading the singer and the guitarist to a clean, perfect, ending.

Virgil stood up and clapped, exaggeratedly posh like an aristocrat at an opera. Patton tugged Logan onto his feet and took giggley curtsey as he took a small bow, probably failing to hide the blush that was spreading over his cheeks.

The clapping and laughing was replaced by a warm silence as they sat back down near the fire, the instruments laying next to each other a few feet away. Patton lay his head on Logan’s shoulder, his slow, soft breathing matching his pulse perfectly.

Virgil sighed. “I wish I could see the sea again,” they said quietly, their shoulders drooping slightly. “One last time.” There was still a faint trace of a smile on their lips, but a sort of sadness had cast a shadow over their pale face.

“Logically, if we drove in one direction for long enough we would get there,” Logan commented, possibly not as softly as he meant to sound. “But I don’t think that that’s really possible at this point.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t as sensitive as he should have been, but it got a small giggle out of them anyway.

Patton shuffled forward slightly, his expression warm. “Kiddo,” he said softly, placing a hand on their knee, causing them to look up at him. “Let me show you something.”

He took their hands and stood up, leading them over to one of the stained glass windows near the front of the building. His tread was light and careful, and somehow even his walk was calming in it’s nature. Logan followed behind them at a distance, knowing full well that he was nowhere near as good at being comforting and not wanting to intrude.

The stained glass window that they now stood in front had the top half of it missing, and the bottom didn’t make a huge amount of sense, just legs and feet of some religious figures long forgotten, but Patton looked at it as if it were everything.

“This is my favorite stained glass window in this whole place,” he said dreamily. Well, this was news to Logan, and he leaned in to listen.

Virgil looked at him, perplexed. “But half of it is smashed in,” they said in a bemused voice.

Letting out a small, tinkling laugh, Patton lay his hand on their shoulder. “I know, but, the sun rises over there every morning,” he explained, pointing at the black sky through the gap above the glass. He moved around as he spoke, slowly and deliberately, gesturing at the sky and the glass and the floor. “And the light shines through the glass that /is/ still there, making the floor all sorts of different colours.”

Logan could picture it in his own mind. He pictured the way the colours landed on Patton’s skin as his eyes fluttered open. He pictured the way they would dance through the sky to land on the ground. He pictured the way they came into their little nest and lit it up. He saw the way the moonlight now shone through the glass and cast a faint glow on Patton’s face. “It’s beautiful,” he agreed.

Patton spared him a smile, a whole smile, just for him. Not rare, still precious. Then he looked back out of the window, the stars’ reflections dancing in his eyes, as dark as the sky outside. “And through the empty bit, you can see the sky, the stars, the moon.”

“A sea of it’s own sort,” Logan added. “An eternal, endless expanse of stars and darkness.”

Virgil gave a small, tight-lipped smile. They started to twist their hands together as sadness filled their eyes. “My brother used to tell me stories about the stars,” they whispered, their eyes pressed closed. “We couldn’t see them in the cellar, and I couldn’t remember them, but Roman would draw the constellations on the walls and point out the shapes, and tell me stories.”

Ah, Logan thought, so that was what that flicker was.

“Now he is one of them,” Patton said, gazing out into that sea of stars. “With my sister. I bet they’re happy, wherever they are.” She gave Virgil’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“A story written in the sky,” Logan continued, squeezing gently on Virgil’s other shoulder. “Eternal,” he breathed, bathing in the starlight and the warmth of his companions. “Endless.”

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Writing taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed):

@soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @confusedbutamusedlolo @celeste-tyrrell @randomavengersquotes

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