Wilbur lightheartedly and halfway tapped and danced his way along Prime Path, singing to himself while his face was decorated with his usual overly confident grin. What song was he singing? Only one that perfectly ignited his need and desire to see the ruins of a nation he left behind with his previous death; he knew how to go out with a bang, what could he say? "An empty shell I used to be, the shadow of my life was hanging over me. A broken man that I don't know, won't even stand the devil's chance to win my soul. What we doing? What we chasing? Why the bottom? Why the basement? Why we got good shit, don't embrace it? Why the feel for the need to replace me? You're the wrong way track from the good, I want to paint a picture telling where we could be at, like a heart ain't attached the way it should. You can give it away, you had, and you took the pay. But I keep walking on, keep opening doors, keep hoping for that the call is yours; keep calls on hold. 'Cause I don't wanna live in a broken home, girl, I'm begging," Wilbur loudly sang as the Prime Path slowly winded into more familiar territory, leading up to the man-made canyon he had made with a mere push of a button. His grin only worsened as he kept strolling around, lightly dancing to the song he continued to sing, now playing with lit sticks of dynamite and tossing them around as if they held no consequence behind igniting and setting off. Thankfully, they weren't as loud or as powerful as the ones he originally used to make the crater he walked inside, though they were just as fun to light; though, Wilbur ran off before his hind side could get licked by the flames. If he couldn't blow up another nation, he'd continue to blow up his own, despite how sick and twisted it seemed. It was the compromise he made with himself.
Quackity was walking up the path after him, looking down at him in confusion before chuckling as he flew up into the air comfortably. He hummed along with the song Wilbur was singing, sitting in a tree and watching him while smoking comfortably. He seemed a bit confused, sitting in the tree as he hummed happily, leaning his head back and smiling to himself. Wilbur's chaotic nature was something he both admired and feared, given that Wilbur could easily destroy his nation as easily as he'd blown up the nation that he himself had made. It made him seem interesting to Quackity, but also extremely scary at the same time. He didn't like the idea of his nation being destroyed.
Wilbur continued to aimlessly and chaotically blow up the hole in the earth he himself caused, only blowing it deeper and wider with each explosion he ignited, until his inventory had been cleaned out entirely of explosive material of any sort. Did he adore the sound the last explosion made as he comfortably sat down? Yes, yes he did. Did he feel bad about blowing up L'Manberg? Well, that was iffy. Don't get him wrong, Wilbur loved L'Manberg with all his heart, and he still did, but it was that love that earned him to hate it as well. It was such a complicated feeling; the only way he knew how to describe it was like two little kids arguing over one toy they both want, but except of two little kids, Wilbur was fighting with himself. Obsession and love sometimes don't mix, and L'Manberg was Wilbur's proof of that. Regardless, he seemed happy as he stared into the now pit of smoke, his eyes darting up for a moment to look at the sky, but they instead got caught on the figure of Quackity perching in a tree. Well, maybe obsession and love *sometimes* could mix. Wilbur waved over to the avian, offering him a grin, evidently more than eager to see him once again, having not expected Quackity to be at a place like this of all things.
Quackity waved happily as he smiled gently, running his hands through his hair as he leaned back a bit with a yawn. He then dropped down and flapped his way over, landing calmly next to him and smiling softly. "Hey, Will. Fancy seeing you here." He spoke out as he put his hands in his pockets, smiling softly. "I didn't really think I'd see you here for some reason. T's nice to, though." He hummed as he looked down into the giant crater, sitting on the edge and gently picking up a stone in order to throw it into the crater calmly. "It's nice, though." He hummed as he looked up at him, his wings shifting softly. Quackity was still very much unaware of the obsession Wilbur held with him, humming to himself and oftentimes just brushing it off as Wilbur just really wanting him to be safe. He understood, sort of, since he wanted Wilbur to be safe as well.
Wilbur let out a slow, relaxed him as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his mildly tattered trench coat, redirecting his sights to the gaping hole in the earth. "Well, this still is *my* nation, after all. Of course, I'd come back to see it; lotta old memories, y'know?... Though, I am curious as to why *you're* here, and so far away from Las Nevadas, as well." The once corpse man stated, raising an eyebrow as his eyes looked to Quackity for an answer, though he kept his head facing the crater. "Are ya reliving old memories, too? Paying respects? Or are ya here to rub it in my face again that you won the elections?" He lightly joked about the last idea, attempting to keep conversation casual since rarely was Quackity this calm around him without trying to slit his throat. Not that he minded such rough treatment, though, even going as far as finding it amusing and enjoyable to a degree.
Quackity shrugged and flopped onto his back as he yawned quietly, mumbling to himself in Spanish for a moment. "Nah...come to pay my respects. I know you lost a lot with L'Manberg, so..." He shrugged as he laid on the ground, then stood up and began to set up a camping area. "I also come to camp here sometimes. Get away from the city. Foolish can deal." He hummed as he popped up a tent, singing one of Wilbur's songs to himself as he smiled and placed a fireplace right outside the tent. He then sat down under the tent, looking over at Wilbur as he tilted his head. "You wanna join me or something, Will?" He asked curiously, laying back on the plush carpet that made up the floor.
Wilbur *also* enjoyed these little moments of almost domesticated tranquillity he sometimes got the opportunity to share with Quackity, so by God if he didn't have hearts in his eyes upon hearing what he was asked, then he had no idea exactly when he would. He didn't verbally answer right away, walking over to the tent before sitting down next to the avian, humming contently to himself as he looked at him. "If you're using me for decent and free campfire songs, I hope you know I'll never forgive you, Big Q." Wilbur jested, though it was clear in his smile that he wouldn't mind playing a song or two, or maybe even a few if Quackity was lucky, for him. Wilbur had brought his favourite oak-wood guitar, after all. He let out a comfortable sigh, looking away to the fire that danced around in the firepit outside the tent. "You're already yawning up a storm at roughly half-past ten? Are you really that tired?" The pyromaniac inquired, keeping his sights solely on the fire outside, admiring the way it gracefully flicked around and softly crackled. It relaxed him further, even if he was already fairly docile in comparison to how he normally was.
"Look, it's not my fault it's exhausting to walk here." He grumbled before moving close to place his head into Wilbur's lap as if it's a pillow, sighing out happily as he snuggled with him. Look, he was tired, and Wilbur was warm... "Hey Will...I want to cuddle..." He mumbled as if he was nervous about speaking his mind, sitting up to look at him as his wings shifted softly. "...Please." He managed after a moment, absolutely hating it when he had to use that word. With Wilbur, it was easier, but it was never truly fun for him. He always just took what he wanted and ignored the rest, but he managed to force himself into being calm.
Wilbur looked to the other avian, wide-eyed for a second as he looked him over to make sure he was being genuine and wasn't pulling his wing; oh, the irony of the fact he couldn't feel the two feathery appendages on his back. He let out another soft sigh, slipping off the guitar strung around his back and his trench coat, gently setting both just outside the tent, considering there wasn't much free room inside it. Wilbur gently fell back against the floor, being mindful of his wings as to not lay atop them, an old habit he hadn't been able to shake off since when he *could* actually use them. "You're kinda weird, Big Q. One moment, I could swear to the gods there's nothing you hate more in the world than me, but then you go and play cards like that one. It's a little confusing, like sheeeesh, do you like sending mixed signals much?" He asked with a raised brow, though his voice was warm and soft, only trying to properly figure out how exactly Quackity felt about him since he seemed to be rather bipolar when it came to the mockingbird hybrid. It only gave Wilbur more of a challenge to win his heart, though, and he always took on every challenge that was thrown his way. Who knows, maybe one day the subject of his hyper obsession might even return his feelings. That sounded nice.
"Shut the fuck-" Quackity lightly smacked at the other's shoulder as he let out a hiss that resembled a swan's, but cuddled up to him with a soft huff. He'd returned the feelings for a while, but he'd forced them down and made himself drop hints instead. It wasn't his fault, he was scared of love at this point. Sapnap and Karl had been his whole world, and he'd always regretted what he'd done to them. He shook his head quietly to break away from his thoughts, forcing himself to calm down as his wings, which had fluffed up, tried to calm down. "..." He squeezed his eyes shut quietly as he covered them, trying not to cry as he gritted his teeth angrily at himself. *Damn it, Quackity, stop crying!*
Wilbur let out a soft laugh at the response he was provided with, falling into a comfortable silence as he softly wrapped his arms around the fellow avian, his eyes shut in a peaceful manner while he soaked up the moment in happy greed. When he reopened them, however, his brows knitted together in confusion and concern at the sight of Quackity covering his eyes. Had he done something wrong? Wilbur certainly didn't think so, which only seemed to make him even more puzzled. "Q? What's wrong? Why are you hiding your face from me?" Wilbur asked, his tone reflecting just how concerned he was. He loosened his hold on the avian capable of flight only to nuzzle at him a few times gently, though otherwise he tried to be respectful of his personal space despite the fact they were snuggled up together. Wilbur knew better than most that Quackity liked his personal space whenever he got emotional; the other surely was dwelling in some sort of emotion to irk such an unusual response from him, Wilbur concluded. He asked no further questions, instead quietly humming away at the tune of Since I Saw Vienna.
"I hate feelings..." He mumbled, lightly hitting Wilbur's chest after a moment and sighing shakily as he tried to repress his tears further. Quackity really did hate his feelings, how they could make him do things he shouldn't do. Or normally wouldn't. He sniffled quietly as he looked up at him, tears slowly filling his eyes before he lightly moved and scooted away, curling up on his other side as he sniffled quietly. Wilbur was the source of this problem, and he was trying to hide from his feelings as long as possible. If he could hide from them until they went away, maybe he wouldn't have to spend nights crying.
The mockingbird solemnly gazed upon the other for a few moments, a frown becoming the shape his mouth formed into. Though he spoke no words other than the lyrics to his own song whilst he sat up, reaching for his guitar with his fingerless gloved hands, setting the musical instrument keenly in his lap before plucking away at the strings. Wilbur looked out to the softly crackling firepit and the overhang of the trees and stars above; if Quackity wanted to dwell in his emotions for a bit, it was clear that he was willing to give him any space he wanted as he quietly sang. Partially, it was an attempt to soothe the fellow avian's clearly upset mood, and partially it was a manner to get him to focus on something other than his own thoughts; that was what helped Wilbur personally, at least, so perhaps it would work with Quackity. "The cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form, adorned with patches of places you’ve been, is nothing on my khaki coat that I got from a roadside when I was sixteen. My boots are from airports, my backpack's from France. I'm not a man of substance and so I’ll pretend to be a wanderer; wandering. leaving ascetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins. Cut that bit out haha... The roads are my home as horizon's my target. If I keep on moving, never lose sight of it. Treating my memory of you like a fire, let it burn out, don't fight it and try to move on. It's been sixty weeks since I saw Vienna. A bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face. I'll pick up my hiking boots when I am ready, and I'll put down my roots when I'm dead. The distance is futile, come on, don't be hasty. You’ll get that feeling deep inside your bones. I’ll be gone then when you must be alone."
Quackity sighed as he listened to him sing, sitting up and looking at him before scooting close to the other avian and resting his head on his shoulder. “Life isn't quite what I thought I'd be when I was a kid on VoIP. I thought when I get older I'd marry her, I told her. Now I'm 26, and I work in an office. Nine 'til five's not the best, I'll be honest. If I could change a single thing, I'd make it me and not him. But he's in your bed, I'm in your Twitch chat. I've got the key and he's just a doormat. And even though he's got social skills, that doesn't mean I can't pay the bills. Anyway, make the most of him, 'cause she moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh. Your new boyfriend's an arsehole (woo!)Yeah, I've met Jared (of course, I've met Jared). The one who took you away from me. You hit it off instantly, I know, 'cause you won't stop telling me. I've seen his jawline, shoulders, and muscles. Push against his fashion sense. I've thought about what he looks like nude (I'm not gay, though). 'Cause she's living the dream (living the dream, living the dream)- Oh, she's living the dream- From back when we were 17. She's living the dream (living the dream, living the dream)- Oh, she's living the dream- From back when we were 17. How on earth could I be saved? When I'm one click away from insane. I just think that I deserve a little bit of what I earned. I'm not gonna make another scene. The one I made when I was 23 means I'm not allowed in Disney World. But he's in your bed, and I'm in your Twitch chat. I've got the key and he's just a doormat. 'Cause even though he's got social skills that doesn't mean I can't pay the bills. Anyway, make the most of him, ‘cause she moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh. Your new boyfriend's an arsehole. I think about you every day (every day) So how on earth can I be saved? (Can I be saved?)- I think about him a lot as well (I think about him). Maybe if he wasn't fine as hell (he's really fine as hell).” He glanced up at him quietly.“'Cause you're beauty, and you're grace (and you're grace). Your telephone calls are my favourite place. And I want you to notice me. With no restraining order, please (Jason Derulo), I want you to care, I want to smell your hair.”
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