A Favour Owed...

Anaxas' oldest and most prestigious University of Sorcery, the de facto cultural capital of the kingdom and a city in its own right.
User avatar
Fionn
Posts: 105
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 18
Race: Passive
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: Post Templates
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Maximus
Contact:

Wed Jan 09, 2019 5:30 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Passive Dorms | Late
Image
By the time Castor Devlin got them back to their room, Fionn had no idea what hour it was but Jamie was evidently fast asleep, the oil lamps switched off. He could have gone to the effort of lighting the bloody things but honestly, it wasn't worth it. He didn't want to risk waking up their roommate in any case, especially as the boy was sure to ask questions and be full of chatter. It was more than likely that they'd get it in the morning in any case but the blond just didn't want to deal with it right now. Besides, there was some light to see by, even though the fire in the hearth had burned low, simply aglow except for the odd tongue of flame that licked out, waving as it found some fuel source to feast on. The passive made a low sound of annoyance, a soft crack of his knuckles as he clenched his hands into fists, moving to tend to the dying fire.

The lazy git had gone to bed without bothering to build up the fire. It wasn't icy by any means but it was still cool enough and Fionn didn't appreciate having to deal with it, especially in the relative darkness. He really wasn't in the humour to put up with Jamie's friendliness tonight though so he stubbornly made do.

The night had been a rough one, the servant having had plenty to consider and process. The main thing though, the pressing and unavoidable thing was that Fred was dead. Fred had tried to kill him and now Fred was dead.

And he had Lars to thank for it. For preventing his death and for killing his tormentor. It was a unique position for him to be in, to owe someone in such a way and to feel such loyalty towards him. The only other person that he'd felt loyalty towards in this place - a warped and worrying sort of loyalty - was Ayden. This was a purer loyalty, pure and true. It certainly wasn't a tainted loyalty that he felt towards the other blond, even though it was new.

The young man moved to kneel by the fire, moving wood from its pile by the hearth, poking the embers carefully so that they sprang to life, licking at one fresh piece of wood and then after a minute or two, another. When he was confident that the flames wouldn't be inadvertently smothered, he added more wood to the fire before he stood, unconsciously brushing the knees of his trousers while soft orange light flickered around the room.

Lars wasn't one to readily engage in conversation and he might be reluctant to break the silence between them when Fionn appeared so thoughtful, lost within his own head, considering what had happened tonight and contemplating how to approach things in the future.

He needed to talk with the other blond, to explain matters and have him understand how things would be between them henceforth. Not because the Savatier had requested it but because Fionn wished it to be so. He did not consider his debt one that could be repaid but a lifelong one, one that would only gain interest over time as the servant intended for his loyalty to remain constant. Broaching such a subject was awkward though.

The young man drifted to his own bed, fingers moving to undo buttons as he stripped off layers. Shirt and trousers were dropped untidily on the floor, underwear all that remained on his form until he replaced the daytime garments with a button-up nightshirt, left to hang slightly past his hips, left fairly open at the neck. A hand ran through his hair, fingers parting the blond strands before moving to rub at the back of his neck, considering simply climbing into bed but turning instead with a sigh. He moved to Lars' bed, perching himself on the edge, one leg folded up, arms wrapped around it to hold the bent limb to his chest, the other left to hang at an angle, balanced on his toes as he bobbed it up and down. A nervous, restless sort of tremble went through the limb as it moved, the young man chewing on the inside of his cheek.

The jerking stopped. "Lars... I need to... talk to you about... something," he got out, keeping his voice low, hardly above a whisper so that he wouldn’t wake Jamie. It was more than that though, the young man that little bit more timid and shy than usual, that little bit less sure of himself. He was glad that the lighting didn't allow the other to see the warmth that had added spots of pink to his cheeks. "I didn't... I didn't thank you properly for earlier. With Fred. If you hadn't come in when you did then well... I wouldn't still be here."

Stating the obvious perhaps but it had to be said, had to be properly stated and it wasn't the only thing that he had to get out tonight.

"I... I owe you. I mean that."
Last edited by Fionn on Mon Jan 21, 2019 10:17 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 882

User avatar
Lars
Posts: 143
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 25
Location: brunnhold
Race: Passive
: hates you/r laundry
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: fermin
Contact:

Thu Jan 10, 2019 10:50 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Late Night
Image
Lars, in all his distant and daydreaming vacancy, was an inward mess of words he didn't understand and concepts he couldn't. He was not ignorant of his mental capacities. He knew what he could and couldn't understand and what things he knew he never would, simply because he had missed the chance in his youth, and it wasn't something that often bothered him.

A servant had no need for such things, at least not one in Brunnhold that made meals and washed clothes. The things he needed to know were provided in the form of being forced into a situation and having to figure it out before he was punished for standing around, not written in books that he couldn't even read.

Matters of fields and the nature of magic were the last things he had ever expected to be thrown at him. That being said, he hadn't expected anything that had happened in the night, and wasn't sure if he could rely on the things he knew anymore. Was the laundry really that important? Were the meals he made and the desserts he baked so necessary, when someone else could do it just as easily?

Who was meant to take care of the people that deserved to die, if not one such as him that had felt such exhilaration in the act?

All things that crossed his mind even as his face remained a blank slate, the passive silent as they were walked back to their dorm, silent as Fionn crossed to tend to the hearth. His roommate was correct in assuming him reluctant to speak; he had never been one to strike up a conversation when he wasn't addressed. Speech was an unnecessary tool that seemed to break more than it fixed, in his experience, and oftentimes when he let himself ramble on, he felt like a different person entirely.

The oldest in the room was also the easiest to forget, the easiest to fade right into the background, especially in a darkened room. He found comfort in the fact that he had been so unnoticed thus far, but the past two days had been so much more interaction and attention than he was quite comfortable with.

It was a regrettable fact that he hadn't had the chance to bathe--not that Lars was all that dirty, nor did he smell of the kitchens, but he felt a layer of something invisible over his skin, something uncomfortable and uneasy that he wasn't sure could actually be scrubbed off.

He finally unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, pulling his sleeves from above his elbows and removing the button-up to replace it with a clean one, however leaving his trousers in place. Pulling the blankets down his mattress, Lars slipped onto the surface quietly, his form only barely illuminated in the light of the hearth. He remained sitting up underneath the blankets, steel-blue eyes facing forward and unclear in their intentions.

It was only when Fionn approached and sat upon the mattress that Lars glanced away from the door, looking to the other blonde curiously and awaiting an explanation for his proximity.

The notion that his roommate was actually thanking him was a strange one, the older man's face finally revealing of his slight confusion. He was essentially thanking him for... killing Fred. He knew that he had saved the younger servant in the process, but he had killed a man, a fellow passive, to do so. It brought a small warmth to his chest despite the situation, the man glancing away for a moment.

"He doesn't think you owe him," he replied, voice a soft and gentle sound in the darkness, "he didn't want you to die."

Lars could only shrug a shoulder, "methinks you didn't deserve that. Fred did."
word count: 667
I've been unruly
User avatar
Fionn
Posts: 105
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 18
Race: Passive
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: Post Templates
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Maximus
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 4:41 am

Dentis 10, 2718 | Passive Dorms | Late
Image
The other passive had slipped back into his use of the third person and Fionn sighed, frustrated but unwilling to bring it up. It was hardly a good way to show that you were grateful, biting off someone's head because you didn't approve of the way that they spoke. It was profoundly uncomfortable to hear him say 'he' in reference to himself but to say Fred's name in the same breath. It was something that he could weather but it only added to his fidgeting. His hands were clasped together but he seemed incapable of keeping them still, lacing and unlacing his fingers, twisting them in a definite wringing motion.

"Yeah well... you might not think that I have reason to thank you but... it's not something that everyone would have done. Not for me. You don't... you don't know me, you don't... you don't have reason to hate me yet," he admitted, bitterness seeping into his voice. He shook his head, peering at the floor.

It was something that the young passive had considered more than once tonight. What would have happened to him if anyone else had come in? Well, they definitely wouldn't have killed Fred but there was a high chance that even knowing he was in danger that they would have turned and left. Even if they hadn't known that he was on the verge of being murdered, if they'd simply thought he was being abused, they might have retreated, feeling that the boy was getting what he deserved. What goes around comes around after all and the servant had never been a good sort. His dealings with others certainly left a lot to be desired.

"Plenty of people would have let it happen and thought I deserved it. I'm... I'm not much better than Fred. I'm a complete bastard, Lars. Like... maybe I did deserve it," he mumbled, brows pulled together, the nervous bob of his leg starting up again.

To admit such a thing was... strange. He'd spent too much time in his own head this evening. He'd had too much time to wonder if he hadn't had it coming as much as Fred had. Maybe they should both be cold corpses in Laboratory Beta right now. But Lars hadn't known any better. Even if he'd heard stuff about Fionn, he didn't have enough experience, didn't know that his own behaviours were far from okay. Admittedly, the young man didn't really know better than to coerce and force others to do what he wanted in all matters because he'd only been exposed to that. Even when he did acknowledge that what he did might be all sorts of wrong, it had never bothered him as much as perhaps it should have.

Having others hurt you was a fact of life in here. People would hurt and take and leave you broken if they wanted. Fionn didn't see anything wrong with being the giver rather than the receiver in such matters. That wasn't truly bad or evil, it was just smart. If people thought you were more trouble then you were worth then you fared a lot better. Being a bastard had distinct advantages.

And even though he'd only known him a few days, often passing one another because of differing shifts rather than properly interacting, he couldn't be completely clueless. During their first meeting, he'd definitely given some indication of his true colours. But Lars had stepped in all the same, perhaps the last person he would have expected because he was like a non-entity, not necessarily a coward but someone who just... never raised their head. And yet he'd protected him, saved him in spectacularly lethal fashion despite just how much trouble it might have gotten him in. Even though it was only another passive.

Suddenly the fact that he was a bastard made a great deal of difference, namely because he couldn't be a bastard to Lars. He owed him and that meant that he had to go to great effort not to hurt him or abuse him, even out of habit. Maybe it was because there was something child-like about him as well but Fionn also felt like it was necessary to protect the boy. That definitely meant that he couldn't touch him; he was one of the nearest dangers. Despite that little display in the bathroom earlier (thankfully that had abated and circumstances had certainly helped) and despite that light of interest in the older passive's gaze, even if Lars was willing, he couldn't go near him. If you owed someone your life and wanted to protect them then the last thing you wanted to do was break them. Even if it was only a risk rather than a guarantee, he couldn't do it.

Oh this was going to be fun.

"Look, right so... you're going to hear things about me, bad things and you'll probably see me do shit to people as well but I-I-I owe you. I won't touch you. I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna hurt you so I just wanted to tell you before you uh... realised that I'm... I'm... someone you should be scared of," he admitted quietly, gaze lifting for the first time to regard the other again. In the lighting it was difficult to see much of anything, most things simple outlines in the dark although his own vision had adjusted enough to make out more details so Lars could probably see enough as well. He wouldn't be able to see how red his face had gone but he would be able to find evidence of turmoil and discomfort in the younger boy's face.

This wasn't the sort of conversation he typically had and he was making himself uncomfortable and nervous simply by having it, the stuttering that came from him only making him all the more nervous.

If it had been someone else, maybe he'd have expected them to laugh but this was Lars and he didn't think that the older boy would find any humour in this, even if he didn't see how the passive could be a source of fear.
word count: 1083
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 143
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 25
Location: brunnhold
Race: Passive
: hates you/r laundry
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: fermin
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 1:07 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Late Night
The younger man's frustrated sigh drew steely eyes back to his form, watching him fidget in the dim light of the hearth. He said nothing of the matter, recalling how the boy had already made his dislike known twice for his manner of speech, but he couldn't be bothered to comply any longer tonight. It was as if the energy and adrenaline from killing Fred had been drained from him now that they were back in their dorm, and he wasn't of the mind to put more effort into conversation than he had to.

Lars kept quiet for a while, listening to the younger passive explain why he believed that he owed him, why it had been unusual for anyone to help him out at all, even so close to death. Fionn was right; he had only known the boy for two full days now and certainly didn't have reason to hate him, despite what he said about himself.

It was true that he had been irritated with the boy's arrival in the dorm--not because he particularly cared about having another roommate; once Bennett had passed the room was rather empty with just the two of them--but it was a momentary irritation; an annoyance for yet another man telling him how to speak, calling him such things as if he had believed Lars as empty-headed as a stone. He didn't hate Fionn for doing the same things so many others had done, and in the time since their first meeting, he hadn't been bothered.

"Well, he supposes he can't say if you really deserve it or not, but he hasn't seen that you do," it was all he could really give to the notion; he didn't believe that Fionn deserved to be assaulted and killed in the baths. Lars knew that plenty of bad things went on among his fellow servants, and while he had managed to steer clear of just about everything, he couldn't say if Fionn had a large part in it. He had never paid much attention to the lives of his peers or the people who tormented them.

The mention of being a bastard was strangely reminiscent of someone he'd met long ago, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall the boy's name.

As soon as the younger had finished speaking, namely after he confessed to being someone that Lars should apparently be afraid of, the blonde clicked his tongue; a small sound in the room. He shifted around a bit, turning more towards his roommate, "he doesn't care so much for what you to do other people, Fionn."

Perhaps it was strange for the polite little servant to admit, but his words were genuine.

"You wont hear things about him, not really. He's kind enough and no one seems to notice him, he's been here for sixteen years and that's stayed the same," the older's voice grew quieter, although the softness seemed to almost disappear as he continued on, "and I'm not afraid of you, Fionn. Even if you hurt me, I wont be scared of you. I will kill you."

His demeanor shifted, expression lightening up again to return to its dream-like distance, "but you haven't hurt him, and he stands by thinking you didn't deserve what Fred was doing to you. This place can turn anyone into a bastard, methinks, but... he thinks there's something more in you than just that. He feels it. There's something light in you."

Lars took a breath, glancing to the hearth for a few moments before setting a hand gently on the younger man's shoulder, "you seem to hold so much resentment for yourself, but he doesn't think you're as bad as you say you are. Not underneath."
word count: 674
I've been unruly
User avatar
Fionn
Posts: 105
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 18
Race: Passive
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: Post Templates
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Maximus
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 4:50 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Night
Image
This conversation was all sorts of discomfort and frankly the typically cocky young man would rather crawl under his bedclothes and hide his face, pretend that none of this had ever happened rather than having this conversation. But the truth was, no matter how much of a bastard he could be, Fionn actually did have a moral compass. It might be a bit difficult for people find it in the first place and understand it but it existed and it told him that he had to do this. He couldn't just repay Lars' kindness with being, well... himself.

It felt right to say this, to draw a line in the sand and say that he wouldn't cross it. More than that, that he wouldn't allow anyone else to cross it either. That didn't mean that it wasn't difficult though and Lars' response made him feel that this was all the more necessary. He wasn't likely to find many people willing to look past his many, many failings, his viciousness and sullen attitude, but the older passive could certainly be one of them. It was strange to have someone willing to judge him purely on what they'd seen of his actions and not necessarily view him as bad.

[col0r=red]"I-I guess that's fair. You haven't- Well, you obviously think that- Okay, I didn't deserve it. If you say so,"[/color] he stuttered out, the heat in his face somehow seeming to have increased. If it was readily visible, his skin was probably scarlet from his crown to the base of his neck; it all felt hot enough to have taken on that sort of colouring. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, feeling unbelievably self-conscious and oddly... guilty. He didn't deserve this, he really didn't. The boy was being too fucking nice!

The clicking of his tongue, oddly derisive brought a fresh flush of heat down his neck, the young man sighing softly and looking down again, unconsciously leaning away a little when Lars turned to him. No, the blond evidently wasn't going to take him seriously on that, or so he thought. His actual words derailed that thought, the boy finding himself regarding the older one sidelong in his surprise. It wasn't bad logic really, not caring what happened to others but it felt strangely uncaring coming from someone who had shown such kindness towards him, such compassion.

There was a change in the face though, a change that was all the more eerie because of the play of light and shadow on his attractive features. The easy way that the threat of death fell from his lips made the young man stiffen, made all the freakier by the abrupt pronoun shift. All of the warmth in his body seeming to be doused with a bucket of ice water; Fionn had to resist the urge to shiver. He nodded slowly, woodenly. The young passive couldn't refute that one. He'd seen how casually he'd murdered Fred. Okay, he hadn't actually seen it at the time because he'd been a bit occupied but he hadn't been ruffled afterwards and he hadn't been truly provoked. He'd just walked in and done it as matter-of-factly as a farmer might wring the neck of a hen. Something necessary, a fact of life, something that simply was.

If he could be like that when it didn't really affect him then he definitely believed that he was more than capable of doing it if he was the one at risk. He didn't doubt that he'd do it, not at all.

"Tha-that's fair. Actually... yeah, s'fair," he mumbled, fingers intertwining again, the young man studying them with sudden interest, tilting his head in a vain effort to shift the floppy strands down over his forehead without actually touching them. Was he really going to try to hide behind a few blond strands? What did he think he was, a girl with a fringe? Although longer, less closely cut hair did look nice on a number of men, it shouldn't be something associated with women alone. Lars had that nice cascade going on, a feminising feature, sure but one that worked quite nicely with his jawlines, a contrast between-

Time and a place! And the time would be never! Although was there harm in simply admiring? Probably. Fionn wasn't entirely sure that he could want something and not try to possess it. He stole because he wanted things after all, not necessarily because the thing itself was of interest but the possession of it. When he did genuinely want something... well, needless to say, coveting Lars couldn't end well.

A momentary distraction and when he zoned back in, he was confused as to what his companion was talking about. Lightness? Him? Had Fionn unknowingly dozed off for a moment and the other had switched topics to talk about someone else? No, he actually meant the former Madden and that just made everything all the more awkward for the young man.

Sweet Lady, what was he meant to say in response to that?

But for all his awkwardness, all his uncertainty in dealing with another and trying to keep him at arm's length, the touch and the words together made something in him break. The walls crumpled, the brief stiffening at the contact giving way to the slumping of shoulders, tears pricking in his gaze. The urge to sob rose within him, as much a reaction to the night's events as anything else, the full weight of them thudding heavily down on his shoulders.

He groaned, not making any attempt to dislodge the light fingers from his shoulder as he buried his face in his hands, tears leaking out to dribble down his cheeks and pool in his palms. There was a slight tremor in his frame, something that Lars would certainly feel although if he voiced the cause aloud, verbally checked to see if Fionn was crying then the boy would deny it, adamantly and waspishly. He only kept his face buried for a minute in any case before rubbing swiftly, angrily at his face, turning away but not before the firelight caught the glint of liquid on his skin.

"Lars, I- even if I'm bad, I didn't want to die. I didn't want him near me, anywhere near me and if I could have- I wish it had been me. I wish that I'd done it. He did deserve it, more than me but I shouldn't have let it-" he broke off with a sigh, fingers matting his hair as he tilted his head back, eyes turned towards the ceiling but squinted shut.

"It wasn't entirely unprovoked. I shouldn't have let it come to that. I should have just..."

He couldn't say it. He didn't know how much Lars had seen but he couldn't admit what had come before the attempted murder. There was a wave of shame with it. He wasn't weak, he wasn't anyone's bitch and yet... he was. What he had so sneeringly asked of Lars when he met him, when he'd encountered this seemingly timid creature, was something he knew he was himself. He was ashamed to be so used and he didn't want to admit the womanly position that Fred had put him in, the way that he had allowed him time and again to-

No, he couldn't admit that although Lars would likely have guessed but if it was never said...
Last edited by Fionn on Fri Jan 11, 2019 5:43 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1304
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 143
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 25
Location: brunnhold
Race: Passive
: hates you/r laundry
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: fermin
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 5:23 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Late Night
Lars watched as his roommate's shoulders slumped, his form seeming to retreat into itself as he hid his face in his hands. The sudden reaction brought the older to lift an eyebrow, observing the slight shaking of Fionn's body as he tried to conceal his tears, if only for a moment. In all of his time in Brunnhold, dealing with crying passives new and old, he had never learned to handle it any better. Tears were almost foreign in the man's steely eyes; he doubted if he had cried once since his first day or two of servitude.

He hadn't been without subjects to cry about. His family's absence took far more of a toll on him than he would've expected, and though it had been easy enough for him to adjust to such a strange new life, he still longed for the manor in which he'd spent his childhood, but he shed no tears. One of the closest friends he'd made while here in Brunnhold had passed unexpectedly just this year, but he shed no tears. He wondered, for a brief moment, if he was still capable.

His hand was left resting on the younger man's shoulder, and Lars moved, so that he sat beside the other servant rather than behind him, though his discomfort was clear on his face.

"He thinks you shouldn't have let anything happen that you didn't want. You weren't wrong for trying to stop it," offered the older passive, "and he doesn't think you caused it either. What, did the man take attitude as invitation?"

Lars finally glanced back to his companion, eyes focused on his tear-stained face however not mentioning the sight, "Fred deserved to die. Many people deserve to die. One day, you might deserve it too, but not tonight you didn't."

Something in the back of his mind wondered if he would've stepped in and helped for anyone else, whether he thought they deserved Fred's punishment or not. Wondered if he would've snapped his neck if Fred had been a galdor, or if he had been someone else entirely, and the answer was clear in his mind.

Of course he would've.

"Hey..." he started softly, shifting slightly to face the younger, "at least it's over now, right? And that professor healed you, so you wont have to deal with that deadman's work on your body to remind you."

Hesitating for a moment, Lars' uncertainty was obvious, but soon after he leaned forward, moving his hand from his shoulder to instead loosely slip his arms around Fionn. The gesture was stiff, awkward, but his intent was genuine. He didn't want the younger man to feel so bad about the night, not when it was Lars that had truly twisted things.
word count: 500
I've been unruly
User avatar
Fionn
Posts: 105
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 18
Race: Passive
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: Post Templates
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Maximus
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:09 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Passive Dorms | Night
Image
Obviously, the blond passive didn't want to be crying, not in front of this relative stranger, didn't want to appear weak and sort of ridiculous. Yes, he'd been through a lot tonight but plenty of passives went through some serious stuff but that didn't mean that they started bawling their eyes out.

The last thing that Fionn wanted was the other’s comfort. Touchy-feely stuff had never been his wheelhouse and given that he associated overly emotional behaviour with women, he’d never been keen to embrace it. Of course, he had been that little bit more emotional in the beginning during his early Brunnhold days, maybe because he’d had his sister to open up before that, someone who had allowed him to think that his emotions were reasonable and it was all right to acknowledge. It was the sort of thing that had made him sob so in the beginning and while there were plenty of things from those early days that were frankly a blank in his mind, there were some things that he seemed incapable of burying, some people.

Ayden.

Ayden had seen his tears and provided comfort, given Fionn the one thing he’d been starved of for so many years: attention, love, care. The irony that he had had to come to this place, to this horrible life to find such things wasn’t lost on him now, neither was the fact that it had all been twisted by ulterior motive. The older passive had been very good at playing people, finding their weak points so he could exploit them. He hadn’t had to use violence or threat but had used a softer, more subtle coercion. By the time he showed his true colours, ruining him and shattering his innocence into pieces that he had ground to dust in the succeeding period, Fionn had actually formed a dependence on him. It was the most warped thing imaginable but the young man had used the child’s impoverished emotional needs against him in disgusting and sinister fashion.

Once upon a time, he had gone to Ayden for comfort, even accepted it when the man had abused on one hand and made it up to him on the other. Since the older passive had been assigned elsewhere, the blond had not sought comfort from anyone in the intervening years. Certainly he’d engaged in various activities with others, had partners that he had actually enjoyed being with but he’d never been there emotionally. Had always kept them away from him as he did with everyone, except for the children. They were the only ones he cared about for they were him, what he’d lost, what he would likely have inevitably lost but perhaps not so young, not so cruelly. Everyone else, well... why should he even empathise with them?

And here was Lars fucking it all up, the young man left in the agonising position of being simultaneously attracted and repulsed. He wanted the closeness, that warm and gentle comfort that had been so rare over the course of his young life but he also didn’t want the pain again, didn’t need to risks and also didn’t want to impose himself on the older boy, no matter how briefly. What started as comfort could so easily escalate to something more, the association between comfort and sex permanently linked in his mind. It was impossible not to associate closeness with other thing, just as he associated his sexual relations with guilt and disgust and pain. If he went down that route then he could hurt Lars, something he wanted to avoid. The hurting might be mutual but even if it was returned, it wouldn’t reverse any damage he might inflict.

But he couldn't deny that he liked the way the boy had shifted closer to him, the nearness definitely pleasant and he could keep things in check. He thought he could at least, he had himself under better control, the tears stemmed, the vulnerability lessened. Fionn was more his normal self, able to laugh softly, a very good facsimile of a genuine grin on his face aside from something not quite right at the corners and the tense and rigid way his mouth was held. The bitterness was more readily identifiable in his voice though as it mingled with sarcasm.

"Oh yes, if you don't want something to happen, you just say so and everyone listens," he remarked, that soft laugh coming again but with a harder, cynical edge to it that wouldn't have been there if the mirth was genuine. The servant shook his head. "No, it's not as simple as that. And it wasn't attitude, it was- it's complicated or at least it was."

That was going to take some getting used to, the notion that Fred was gone, no longer there to torment him or be readily wrapped around Fionn's finger. He wondered if the man's replacement would be someone he could enter deals with. He wondered if he wanted to enter into such deals again. His body was good currency and if he had to grimace through things or not think about them too much while they were happening then it was an okay currency to utilise, especially as it could never be fully spent. What was inherently him inside might be used up in the process, something in his soul worn away on each occasion, but his body remained intact.

"Yeah, it's over and done with, I can forget him but... he isn't the first and he won't be the last. Oh, the first to properly try to kill me sure but... did you see my scars earlier? In the baths? I'm marked by every hand and foot and belt and whatever else that people have used to try to break me and I've had plenty of them raised at me. Like I said earlier, it's always my own fault."

He shrugged, perhaps hoping to dislodge the other's hand, except that when it did move, he felt a resigned disappointment.

However, for all his desire to avoid closeness and intimacy - a difficult thing indeed when that hand had remained on his shoulder so persistently - the moment that Lars shifted his arms around him, there was honestly nothing else that the young man could think of... at all.

A hug. It was quite a loose hug but a hug all the same.

Well.

Fionn tensed a little, licking his lips as he suddenly found him dry - his whole mouth dry in fact - and he was sure that the sound of his tongue on the parched skin was audible. Maybe it was just him, his senses suddenly ramped right up in their sensitivity. There were just too many stimuli, the other so undeniably there that the young Madden didn't know how to cope.

The other hadn't washed earlier, his skin and his clothing still marked with an older scent, not one characterised by absence and artificiality. In fact, the other's natural scent was there, strengthened by the sweat he'd shed as he worked, the skin harbouring its own perfume that had been activated and released during his labours. He didn't stink, not in any manner of dirty or unpleasant way but he did have his own aroma, a musk that was impossible to ignore this close, especially now that it was so very close, so unavoidable. He breathed it in and sighed, having to fight with every fibre of his being to stop himself from leaning into him, wrapping his own arms around him and kissing him.

He managed to snap himself out of a brief fantasy of what points on the other man's neck he would kiss, catching himself tilting slowly and subtly in Lars' direction.

Well, if that wasn't a sign that he needed to get the hell back to his own bed and put as much distance between himself and Lars as possible then he didn't know what other one there could be. Not unless one of the Circle's number was about to drop in and tell him that he should move his arse out of this situation. He definitely didn't want to dwell on the fleeting idea that said higher being would actually encourage him, perhaps dropping in to proclaim, "Now kiss!"

Instead of giving into every urge that his body seemed to have activated, the young man cleared his throat a little awkwardly, a hand moving to gently, but firmly, disconnect Lars from his person.

"Regardless of what happened with Fred or why, I did just want you to know that I'm gonna look out for you. That I'm in your debt. If I did something that meant I deserved to die then well... I guess that's a life debt replied, life for a life in a, um... weird way."

Provided that Lars didn't attempt to stop him, Fionn would move a little to the side, putting some space between them before standing, a hand pressed against the mattress as he leaned down so he was still on the other's level, his voice still low.

"But that'd be a shame, wouldn't it? Awful waste of my pretty face!" he added with a snigger, adding levity into the otherwise serious situation with a wink added for good measure that was likely seen even with the hearth flame. There was definite cockiness there, a confidence that had been missing earlier, more akin to what Lars had seen on the first day they'd met.

But for all his outward nonchalance as he headed back to his own bed, his heart had been beating wildly in his chest since the moment Lars had wrapped his arms around him, the palpitations still quite noticeable as a nervous giddiness went through him. He tried not to feel anything towards the other, neither sexual nor emotional as he tucked himself in for the night.

And failed utterly.
word count: 1708
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 143
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 25
Location: brunnhold
Race: Passive
: hates you/r laundry
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: fermin
Contact:

Fri Jan 11, 2019 9:40 pm

Dentis 10, 2718 | Late Night
It was a good thing that his roommate's expression seemed to lighten, his mouth curving into something of a better mood, but the wrongness of it all combined with the bitter, sarcastic tone did nothing to say that he was any better. The tone wasn't appreciated by the older man, his gaze narrowed so slightly as he looked upon his face, but he remained silent and still as he listened to the boy speak.

He didn't like that at all. Sixteen years worth of being made to feel so empty-headed and confused, and he still wasn't comfortable with the way others spoke to him; still wasn't comfortable with close proximity to others, especially when he barely knew them, and Fionn was clearly unappreciative of his efforts just the same.

So when his arms were pushed away, however gently, the blonde made no effort to reach out again for the younger man, and pulled his arms back to himself just as awkwardly as he'd moved them around Fionn. That wasn't the right way to go about comforting someone, then, he supposed, and glanced away for a moment to the hearth.

"Look out for him?" questioned Lars quietly, eyes flicking back to the younger man's face, "that's a strange idea. He's never needed it before, but he supposes he might be at more of a risk now."

Regardless of if anyone had actually seen him kill Fred or not, he couldn't just assume that he was getting out of it all clean. The professors had both helped immensely, and the fact that he hadn't had to deal with the body himself and potentially be caught was a comforting one, but just because the professors had been kind didn't mean they would remain so. Professor Devlin could turn them in at any time--although Lars had a feeling that he wouldn't. The older man had been far too lenient and open with them for that.

Meeting Fionn's gaze as the younger passive leaned to stay on his level, Lars' expression remained unreadable, not reciprocating the attempted humor in the situation. He didn't know, and didn't understand, how he was supposed to be acting right now. All of his attempts at comforting, throughout the years, had backfired in one way or another, and tonight was no exception. All of his words were always returned with sarcasm or bitterness; why couldn't he just say the right things for once? Was he really as unintelligent and daft as everyone so often made him out to be?

His thoughts didn't bleed through his eyes, the older passive watching his roommate retreat across the room and slip into his own bed.

Lars remained sitting for a few moments, watching the flames flicker across the room, the shadows dancing on the floor. When he finally lowered himself to lie down, he glanced over one last time, watching the shadowed bodies of his roommates rise and fall as they breathed. A bony hand rose up his chest, cold as it slipped upwards to his neck, feeling his slow pulse underneath his fingertips as the steady sensation lulled him to sleep.
word count: 560
I've been unruly
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic

Return to “Brunnhold”

  • Information
  • Who is online

    Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest