[ There's a hint of amusement in the way Kaveh's brows raise— far from anything he expected as a response, the man seems confused, puzzled in a way that not even that Alhaitham, that one former friend of his, would be whenever other students tried to flirt with him. For a moment, the blonde finds himself wondering if he's so horribly out of practice that his skills have suffered—
—because the other possibility, that the man doesn't really understand the concept of flirting, or at the very least isn't used to being on the receiving end of it, seems even more far-fetched.
And maybe it's a sign that he should take a hint and cut his losses, but instead Kaveh chuckles, shakes his head as he leans back in his seat. ]
"Pleasant to the eye" is how I would describe the waters of the inland ocean surrounding us, Monsieur Neuvillette, or the architectural marvels of your region. [ (Actually, he'd probably usually be somewhat more effusive with regard to the buildings, but he's trying to get the man's attention on him, not on his obsession with construction.) ] You, on the other hand...
[ Kaveh's teeth tug at his lower lip in a way almost practiced, eyes sliding back to Neuvillette's face as his arms fold across his chest. ]
[ Another compliment; the second in less than a minute. Is it possible that this is the practice of flirting, something humans engage in as a way of expressing their interest or attraction to one another in their search for a potential mate? To his knowledge, it can be executed either verbally or through body language such as a deliberate wink. Or is it simply a matter of cultural differences; perhaps complimenting each other like this is as commonplace as handshakes in the nation of wisdom? From what he knows of Sumeru, it doesn't seem likely, but he also hasn't been outside Fontaine in centuries. There are many social practices he is unaware of.
If it's the former, he's not entirely sure how he feels about it; finding a mate isn't something he's considered at all, with how busy he is. Perhaps he should test the waters and compliment him back? ]
Again, thank you... I'm not the best judge of what's considered beautiful by human standards, but I like the colour of your eyes, Monsieur Kaveh. [ He finally replies after a lengthy pause as he takes in the other's facial features, studying them. Crossing one leg over the other, he then adds: ] They are like rubies.
[ The pause is just long enough that for a moment or two, Kaveh worries that he has offended the other man. (And would it really be a surprise if he had? Certainly, not everyone wants to have strangers flirting with them at every opportunity...) But even before Neuvillette actually responds, Kaveh can see that he doesn't look offended, just thoughtful as those curious, strange eyes study the blonde's face. That second thought resurfaces, that strange wondering that Kaveh had previously dismissed as impossible: is it somehow actually feasible that the man is just... out of his depth?
And then the answer comes, and Kaveh's brows lift in curiosity, even as he smiles at the returned compliment.
"I'm not the best judge of what's considered beautiful by human standards," Neuvillette says, and the young man's eyes search him once more, noting the sharp line of his ears— elf?— and the almost serpentine appearance of his eyes— something else entirely? And maybe Kaveh should just ask, he thinks, but it seems rude even if the stranger seems entirely comfortable and open with who or what he is.
So he smiles, cards fingers through blonde hair, offering a slight, thoughtful tilt of his head. ]
You know, I've never thought of them that way before.. but I like the comparison. Thank you. [ And then, with a teasing laugh: ] Anyway, what's considered "beautiful" is different from person to person, I think, whether human or otherwise. As an example, there are some who find only members of the opposite gender attractive, some for whom the opposite is true, and yet others to whom gender makes no difference either way. It's only fair to assume the same is true for other elements of our appearances.
[ Although if there is an objective scale of beauty— and Kaveh believes there is— there's no doubt Neuvillette is on it. He doesn't say as much, though, not yet. He's pushed his luck quite far already. ]
Yes, preferences will always vary between individuals. As the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But I've observed that humans largely conform to societal expectations and standards, rather than accepting that beauty is relative and subjective. [ He replies, switching which leg is crossed over the other and strokes his thumb over the handle of his cane as he contemplates the topic. There are so many human concepts that are almost unfathomably alien to him, even after having lived among them for centuries. ]
And to be frank, many of these standards seem to be completely arbritary...? Humans categorize both themselves and each other as either "beautiful" or "ugly" based on criteria with no consistency whatsoever.
[ In comparison, dragons are far more simple and logical—when searching for a suitable mate, his kind looks for indicators of good health and reproductive ability such as smooth and shiny scales and a splendidly coloured plumage or mane rather than washed out or muted. Those with broken or damaged horns are less suitable candidates; it suggests they have lost a fight and therefore are less capable of protecting their progeny. Individual preferences do factor into the selection process, but a dragon like Azhdaha wouldn't be considered ugly by any prevailing norms because of his adipose tissue. ]
[ Kaveh can't quite help the way his eyes glint, the stir of attention he feels in response to the way the other talks— like someone with whom the blonde could have a proper discussion, perhaps even a debate; not just ethereally handsome, but smart in a way that holds his interest.
He nods, slow and thoughtful. ]
I tend to agree. There are many whose attraction is based entirely on what's currently fashionable. I've watched colleagues change their hairstyle and clothes with the season, or to try and get the attention of someone they have their eye on... [ He shrugs, mostly nonchalant, although his eyes are drawn to the stroke of the other's thumb over his cane. ] It doesn't make sense to me— I am who I am, and I'm not about to change for anyone. Nor would I want anyone to change for me.
Still... [ Kaveh can't quite help himself; he lifts his eyes back to the other's face, offers a smile and a wink. ] I know what I like, and I really like intelligence in a man.
[ Monsieur Kaveh is winking at him. This heavily suggests that he is, in fact, flirting with him and has been doing so since the aquabus began rather than complimenting him because of some cultural norm from Sumeru. So he's communicating that he's considering him a potential partner and that he's assessing their compatibility. Such pursuits have never been on the table when the nature of his job keeps him busy every day (and even if it didn't, it would be difficult to have a relationship with one of his citizens because his position as the Iudex means there would always be a massive disparity in power and authority) but... it actually feels a little nice, being flirted with. Or rather, being treated like he's like any other ordinary citizen. ]
Not at all. [ He replies with a shake of his head, his expression impassive. ] I'm not used to being... flirted with, but I find that I do not mind it.
[ Impassive though Neuvillette's expression may be, his words confirm that he, at the very least, doesn't hate the fact Kaveh is flirting with him. Given that circumstance, it would be easy enough for him to just keep traveling down this same road, but based on the dictation of the Melusine acting as guide to their aquabus, their ride won't continue for much longer.
Which means— mm, there's probably no chance, is there? And yet he can't quite help but give it a try anyway, no matter how far-fetched or improper it might be: ]
Then forgive me for... telling you that I'm staying at the Hotel Debord, [ he says with a chuckle, carding fingers through his hair. ] Room 205. If you... you know, have free time later. After the show.
[ The worst thing that can happen is that the other says no. And this trip has already been such a mess that he has to take a chance on something actually good coming out of it.
(...Ugh. He shouldn't be so negative, should he? His mother got married, she gets to be happy— and yet he can't help it, the frustration and hurt with which his heart has chosen to answer.) ]
[ There's a slight lift to Neuvillette's brow as the underlying intent behind Kaveh's invitation goes right over his head like a gull on an inland passage. If he's merely inviting him to spend time together, why did he preface it by asking him to forgive him—it's not as though he followed it up with anything inappropriate. Unless... there's more to it than he initially assumed. Kaveh is flirting with him, then it follows that he's looking for either a romantic relationship or recreational sex which he knows humans habitually indulge in. One piece of evidence in favour of the latter is that Kaveh is a tourist. It would be difficult to pursue anything long-term when you're merely visiting, after all.
So in all likelihood, Kaveh just invited him to his hotel room for sex. ]
...I will have to think about it. [ Perhaps a no would have been more appropriate, but he ultimately settles on something more non-committal because he does in fact need to think about it. The aquabus slows down as it approaches the station and in his peripheral vision he spots pink hair; that's the reporter from the Steambird, isn't it? She's been trying to get an interview with him recently and while he wouldn't go as far as classify it as stalking she has been showing up more often than he would like. The Steambird is better reading than the garbage published by the Seven Nations Gazette, but he'd rather not be interviewed at all.
Right now, he also doesn't want to risk Kaveh becoming the topic of gossip if the two of them are seen walking to the opera house together. ]
My apologies, but I must go. [ And with that, he stands up as soon as the aquabus comes to a halt and leaves with hurried steps as he tries not to catch the reporter's attention, eventually disappearing into a passage only used by staff where he knows she won't be following him. He spends a couple of minutes chatting with an off-duty Melusine before quietly slipping out through the emergency exit and starts walking down the road leading to the opera house.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary today—that is, until he picks up on what sounds a lot like those unpleasant distorted noise Ruin Guards make. It's accompanied by the sound of stomping and Neuvillette immediately halts in his step, whipping his head in the direction of the sound. He spots two figures on a dirt path leading up to a grassy hill overlooking the Opera Epiclese, one immediately recognizable as a Ruin Guard.
The other one is much smaller with blond hair. He also looks familiar. He immediately rushes forward in their direction, his feelers and coattails glowing a bright bioluminescent blue as he fires off a roaring jet of water that obliterates the barrage of missiles the Ruin Guard just fired before they have the chance to hit their target. ]
[ "I will have to think about it," Neuvillette says, and as disappointing as it is, Kaveh knows what that probably means. And it's okay, of course it is, he was prepared for a no, perhaps even expected it, but it still stings. It stings more when the other man practically flees the moment the aquabus stops, leaving Kaveh to sit in stunned silence for a moment or two.
Well, that's a blow to the ego. And sure, he was aiming way out of his league, but...
Ugh. Men. Kaveh resolves to put it out of his mind and enjoy the afternoon the way he originally intended, before he accidentally enamored himself with a complete stranger. With a smile of thanks directed to the Melusine, the blonde leaves the aquabus and starts making his way along the path toward the Opera Epiclese. Irritation puts an accidental quickness to his step, but when he draws nearer to the building he all but draws to a halt, ruby eyes wide with appreciation.
Just like that, all his agitation is gone, replaced by an awe that only a student of the arts can feel when looking upon a building so magnificent. Only, he thinks, his current vantage point on the path leading to it does it no justice whatsoever. So when his eyes alight on a nearby hill, they widen in nothing short of youthful enthusiasm. Leaving the paved road in favor of the grass, he meanders, his annoyance and embarrassment at being so abruptly turned down practically forgotten.
The Ruin Guard catches him by surprise, the mechanical sound of its awakening lost under the quickness of his breath as he moves, and when he turns to the sound of its footfalls, it's just in time to be slapped across the front, and Kaveh tumbles back into the grass, disoriented.
Fuck. Dizzied, off-kilter, he tries at the same time to stand and to reach for a claymore still too heavy for him to wield well; instead of doing either, he gets halfway to his feet and staggers back over again, helpless. His eyes widen as he sees the machine's back starting to glow with the missiles it's about to fire.
Is this how he dies? Alone and rebuffed by everyone, atop a hill in a foreign country, to an ancient, hulking war machine? Kaveh's eyes squeeze shut—
—and open again to the sound of roaring water tearing through the missiles, their explosions lost in the deluge. And is that... Neuvillette firing off that jetstream, with his eyes and hair and clothes glowing in a way that somehow makes him look even more attractive than before?
Fuck, this is so embarrassing, is the last thing Kaveh thinks before he faints. ]
[ Kaveh suddenly dropping to the ground is concerning, but dealing with the Ruin Guard is a more pressing matter at the moment—so once he's certain every missile has been thoroughly neutralized, he redirects his aim towards the automaton and channels more draconic power into the jet. It's over in less than three seconds, the sheer force of the water having ripped a massive hole straight through its head and torso and it no longer has a voice box to produce any sounds with as it staggers and collapses.
With the threat being as dead as a machine can possibly be, Neuvillette then quickly rushes over to Kaveh and crouches down, turning him over so he's lying on his back. ]
Monsieur Kaveh, please wake up.
[ He reaches down to loosen Kaveh's tie somewhat so he'll be more comfortable once he stirs and then gives him a firm shaking. ]
[ It's quite the pity that in Kaveh's unconscious state, he's unable to see the spectacle that is Neuvillette laying waste to the Ruin Guard. By the time his eyes open, the creature is little more than scrap metal on the ground. His tie is loose around his neck, and serpentine eyes look down upon him in something akin to concern, glowing with lavender light, an eerie match to the blue gleam in his hair.
Mm, but of course. With today going as wonderfully as it is, why wouldn't Neuvillette be possessed of a Vision? Why wouldn't he just happen to be the one to come to Kaveh's rescue?
In a moment so supremely stupid his friends would surely never let him forget it, Kaveh considers just rolling back over and pretending to be unconscious again; or better, dead. Instead, he sighs, drops his gaze from that which holds his. ]
I'm fine. [ His voice is sharper than he intends. ] You don't have to worry.
[ Neuvillette notes the sharpness present in Kaveh's voice—is he upset to see him again? He did leave in a hurry earlier, without as much as explaining why. This may have given him the wrong impression. But that's not important right now when the man just fainted, even if it lasted less than a minute. ]
You should stay lying down for a few minutes, even if you feel fine. Standing up too quickly may precipitate another fainting episode.
[ He pauses, gaze lingering on the other's face. ] Why did you wander off the paved road?
[ There's a spiteful part of Kaveh that wants to brush Neuvillette off the way the other brushed him off earlier, even as he's spoken to in a surprisingly gentle tone, concern in the question despite his apparent lack of interest. But he's aching from the knockback, and grateful even if he still feels stung, and so he nods, obeying the suggestion and staying put. ]
I wanted to see the Opera Epiclese from a better vantage point, [ he explains, and the sharpness has softened, but there's something of a pout in his voice, a frustration at his own inability to keep himself safe.
And perhaps, though he dares not think on it, an ache of loneliness. ]
The structure is magnificent, but its place behind the fountain does it no justice at all.
...I see. [ There's the faintest lift of his eyebrow. If it's just the fountain that's in the way, wouldn't it have made more sense to, you know, just walk around it? Unless Kaveh was specifically looking for a higher angle; tourists who are more keen to admire the building itself than going inside to watch a show aren't unheard of. Sometimes they're caught trying to scale the walls so at least Kaveh is more sensible than those people. ]
Please be more careful from now on. And perhaps consider switching to a weapon that isn't as... unwieldy as a claymore.
[ Quite frankly, at this point Kaveh feels like he'd be grateful if the sky just opened up and rained lightning on him, putting him out of his misery. But it doesn't, which leaves him to sigh and scowl at the relative stranger as he staggers back to his feet. He says something he doesn't really remember later on, something in a too-sharp voice about knowing his own capability with a weapon, it's not his fault he was caught off-guard, before making a break for it with a muttered acknowledgement of thanks for the help, the show's on soon, gotta go.
Despite his dazed head and his bruised everything ego, he makes it down the hill and back onto the paved road in practically record time.
And so, he tells himself, because today can't possibly get any worse, it has to get better, right? He'll enjoy the trial, go back to the hotel for some all-too-expensive dinner and some drinks, and maybe find a handsome— and agreeable— stranger with whom to spend the night and put himself out of his misery. Of course, though, the darker thoughts crowd his mind as he slips into his seat, a niggling something at the back of his head telling him that with his unluck so far, it won't be much of a surprise if Neuvillette has been assigned the seat right next to his—
Except in the end, that's impossible, because his eyes catch on Neuvillette's figure high above him in the judge's seat, and honestly, somewhere beneath the shock and the horror and the fear of getting thrown in prison for trying to seduce the Chief Fucking Justice of Fontaine, Kaveh wants to laugh, because that really is just his luck, isn't it?
(And Neuvillette is a vision atop his throne, ruling the courtroom with a stern voice and sharp gaze that no one dares question, and Kaveh is ashamed of the threads of arousal pooling heavy in his gut, of the way he can all too easily imagine that voice bringing him to orgasm with a single command—)
It's with cheeks flushed and his sash carefully adjusted over his waist that Kaveh leaves the Opera Epiclese once it's over, and in the end he finds his way back to Hotel Debord in a daze, hardly remembering the walk or the aquabus ride. Now, he finds himself tucked away at one of the tables, eyes closed as he drinks from his third glass of wine— pleasantly tipsy, but nowhere near drunk enough to begin to feel even remotely okay about the mess of a day he's had. ]
[ Kaveh makes a run for it, and Neuvillette almost calls out to him because getting up and moving that quickly so soon after being smacked around by a Ruin Guard could be dangerous, but not a single word leaves his mouth. Probably better to let him go and just keep an eye out for any passed-out blonde men on the way to the opera house.
He too returns to the paved road and stops a member of the Garde to inform him that a Ruin Guard had been spotted in the vicinity and that it's been dealt with, but there may be more around. The Garde nods and goes to deploy a group of Gardemeks to patrol the surrounding hills, while Neuvillette hurries the rest of the way to the trial and with just a few minutes to spare, he seats himself in the judge's chair as he's done for several centuries now.
The proceedings begin. A teenage girl stands accused of murdering her older sister by bludgeoning her over the head with a clock in the shape of a Statue of the Seven, and in her last moments the sister had named her killer by writing the defendant's name in her own blood. In typical Fontaine fashion, the trial plays out much like a drama on a theater stage with several twists and turns. The prosecution counters an argument by revealing he had an updated autopsy report. One of the witnesses turn out to be the actual culprit behind the murder. Both Neuvillette and the Oratrice find the girl innocent and dark clouds begin to roll in throughout the sky as the trial is concluded, bringing rain upon the audience as they begin to leave.
Neuvillette lingers in his seat a little longer than usual, his gaze following a certain blonde as he leaves. He actually hadn't thought about him at all during the trial, his undivided attention on the case so he can render a fair and impartial decision based solely on the facts presented. But now that his mind can wander freely again, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel the warmth of another's body against his own.
A few hours later, the Iudex inquires about Monsieur Kaveh at Hotel Debord. He heads inside the restaurant after the receptionist directs him there, and it isn't long before he sees that familiar face at a somewhat secluded table in the back of the room, behind some potted ferns. He approaches with long, purposeful strides, and Kaveh will notice a change in attire—something slightly more casual, with fewer layers to remove later on. ]
Would you mind if I joined you, Monsieur Kaveh? I would like to continue our conversation from before.
[ If he's honest, the dinner tastes somewhat bland, a fact that makes no sense at all to him when the Fontainian foods thus far have been amazing. It's probably the stress, leaving it so that all he can really taste is the burn of the alcohol in his taste. (Of course, he knows any Amurta graduate worth their degree would tell him, pain isn't a flavor, no matter how much the body might mistake it for one.)
There are eyes on him, too— and why wouldn't there be? He may not remember much of his trip back here, but he knows for a fact it rained— a lot. His regular clothes were drenched through upon his return, and he took a warm shower and cleaned himself up before heading down for dinner. And when Kaveh cleans up, he always makes sure he looks good. So when Neuvillette comes close enough to appreciate him, he'll see that the blonde, too, has had a change of clothes, a more Fontainian style than his previous garb. The blonde's hair is down, soft around his face as he drinks from his glass.
He spies Neuvillette just as he approaches, and his eyes widen with something close to panic— just when he thought the mess of the day was finally over— as his fingers press into the glass so hard that for a moment he thinks it might shatter under his grip. Oh, Archons. He's come to arrest him, hasn't he? To a mind that's usually so highly intelligent— and yet right now not thinking clearly— that's the only thing that makes sense. After all, he tried to seduce the Iudex of Fontaine, and followed that almost immediately by being rude to him after he was rescued—
But Neuvillette simply asks if he may sit with Kaveh, because he would like to continue their conversation, and the blonde's lips, half-parted in panicked protest, hang open in silence. ]
Our— conversation? Which one? [ And then, because he still can't shake the concern from his mind: ] Does this mean you're not going to arrest me?
[ Neuvillette glances to the empty plate in front of Kaveh—he had hoped to buy him dinner as an apology for what happened at Marcotte Station when he left without offering an explanation, but it appears that he's already eaten. He does, however, note the lack of a dessert plate. Perhaps something sweet would suffice, then? Then his gaze returns to the man. He's exposing a lot more skin now, and if he were easily distracted perhaps he would've let his gaze linger on his chest instead of answering the questions. ]
The first one. [ He raises an eyebrow at Kaveh's widened eyes and open mouth. ] Unless you're confessing to something you've done between leaving the opera house and now, no. You haven't broken any laws.
[ He hasn't sat down, because Kaveh didn't say if he's permitted to join him. ]
[ It's somewhat belated, the realization that he hasn't given Neuvillette permission to sit. He's too busy worried about potentially being arrested, then realizing that he's not being arrested— and shaking his head with a slightly-confused smile to confirm that, no, to his knowledge he hasn't committed a crime— then blinking as the realization sets in that the conversation the other wishes to continue is the first one.
And. Oh. He looks really good.
...Right. He asked to join— ]
Uh. Right, sorry. Please... please sit down. I just finished eating, and I'm enjoying some of your nation's finest wines, and— ah, can I get you anything?
[ Far from the flirtatiously confident attitude from before, he's a little shaky now, anxious after the events of the day. He reaches, taking a sip from his wine— nothing too deep, as he's suddenly less interested than before in getting blindly drunk— and swallows back the nerves. ]
I guess I thought it was a conversation you weren't interested in having.
[ Now that he's been given permission to sit, Neuvillette reaches back to push his long hair aside so he doesn't sit on it as he takes a seat in the chair across from Kaveh, his posture befitting that of a man second only to the Archon herself. He then plucks the menu from the wooden stand at the center of the table and takes a moment to peruse the dessert options and the list of beverages. The annoying thing about restaurants is that the menu rarely specifies where their water is sourced from. He doesn't want to pair his meal with subpar water from Liyue. ]
If you're amenable to it, I would like to order dessert for you—consider it a small apology for disembarking the aquabus in such a haste.
[ Kaveh's brows lift, the confusion evident on his features. It's clear that Neuvillette is flirting with him, and yet the why of it makes absolutely no sense, after he practically fled the aquabus earlier. And now, to apologize for it...
He licks his lips, tasting the red of the wine staining them, and meets those strange lavender eyes with burning crimson. ]
I can't figure you out. [ It's a murmur more than anything, paired with a reflexive touch of his hand to his own head, brushing golden strands back from his face. But his voice becomes stronger, a gentle challenge in the words as he continues: ] If you were going to come here anyway, why run away so fast before? I'll accept your apology and the dessert too if you can explain it.
[ Probably, he has no right to talk to the Iudex of Fontaine in such a way. But he's a little tipsy, and the rejection still stings, even hours later. ]
That had nothing to do with you at all, Monsieur Kaveh. A journalist from the Steambird has been badgering me for an interview as of late, so when I caught a glimpse of her at the station I decided to leave before she could corner me.
[ He replies, serpentine gaze sharp as he regards the other man, particularly the movement of that hand. This is isn't something he normally thinks about at all, but there's something elegant about it; he wonders what it would be like to press his lips against the inside of his wrist, feel the pulse underneath his mouth... he decides not to continue that line of thought for now.
Around them, the restaurant is busy but not so busy that their conversation gets drowned out by noise. Neuvillette is grateful both for the potted ferns that offers some degree of privacy and that most of the people around them are tourists and won't recognize him even if they see him from the angles not blocked by plants. ]
As the Iudex, I would rather not risk having my words twisted through selective quoting. The Seven Nations Gazette already publishes garbage claiming that I'm the sole male Melusine, the Steambird doesn't get to add to the fuel.
[ ...Oh. Well, now Kaveh feels bad. This whole time, he's been operating under the assumption that Neuvillette was just trying to get away from him— he was needlessly rude, cold with him after his rescue just because he felt rejected—
Kaveh bites his lip, shakes his head. ]
If that's the case, then I can hardly accept an apology, sir. If anything... I owe you one. You rescued me from that Ruin Guard and in thanks I was abrupt and rude with you because my pride was hurt. It was... [ He pauses, and sighs. ] It was immature of me. I'm sorry.
[ With that acknowledgement, he wants to ask: was he wrong about what he thought was a rejection? Is that's why Neuvillette has come here? Or is it just that he felt that he needed to apologize for a misstep he didn't actually make?
But he can't quite bring himself to ask. Instead, he says: ] It must be frustrating. Followed around by the press all the time— I'm sure you feel as if you don't have a lot of privacy.
[ Feeling a small pang of hunger stir in the pit of his stomach—ah, it's been quite some time since his last meal and he didn't have tea with Sedene today because of the trial—so once he's read the dessert options and settled on something he hopes Kaveh will enjoy he considers the dinner selection as well. It'll have to be something light so he doesn't keep Kaveh waiting too long. ]
Being a public figure has its share of disadvantages. But a free press is necessary to ensure an informed public, to open minds to new viewpoints, and to hold the powerful in check.
[ The benefits far outweigh the personal grievances he has with what they publish, which is why's never considered curtailing that freedom with stricter legislation. Pausing for a moment, he then continues: ] I would still like to order you dessert, as a... gift of sorts rather than an apology, then. Providing a potential mate with food is part of the courting process among my kind.
[ The proper way to do it would be to bring him a pile of fish he caught himself, but he has to adapt some courting behaviors to what's more acceptable by human standards. ]
[ Kaveh's smile is one of relief and gratitude, before he silently goes back to watching as the other both studies the menu and explains his answer to the blonde's comment. He's mature, Kaveh thinks, and thoughtful, and yet— he has to imagine— carrying the kind of stress that would make someone like him implode with anxiety. (The kind of stress that he himself occasionally works out through a one-night stand or two, by finding someone who can take him apart until he isn't thinking anymore.)
He wets his lips, halfway into the first word in a gently empathetic comment, when Neuvillette offers the dessert for him once more, explaining it as— as courting, as seeking a potential mate—
Kaveh's cheeks flush, a fluster in the way he looks across at the other man. ]
I. Uh. [ A breath. ] I should make myself... I don't want to lead you on, Monsieur Neuvillette. I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm lonely, and on vacation, and— and you're really attractive. But I'm not looking for a mate. A— a partner.
[ He has a whole life back in Sumeru, after all. A job. A house. A former friend whom he claims to hate, but who has his heart in a vice grip and refuses to let it go. ]
If you're... seeking something more than that, I— I'm the wrong person for you.
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sempiternals2023-08-19 08:47 pm
no subject
—because the other possibility, that the man doesn't really understand the concept of flirting, or at the very least isn't used to being on the receiving end of it, seems even more far-fetched.
And maybe it's a sign that he should take a hint and cut his losses, but instead Kaveh chuckles, shakes his head as he leans back in his seat. ]
"Pleasant to the eye" is how I would describe the waters of the inland ocean surrounding us, Monsieur Neuvillette, or the architectural marvels of your region. [ (Actually, he'd probably usually be somewhat more effusive with regard to the buildings, but he's trying to get the man's attention on him, not on his obsession with construction.) ] You, on the other hand...
[ Kaveh's teeth tug at his lower lip in a way almost practiced, eyes sliding back to Neuvillette's face as his arms fold across his chest. ]
You're captivating.
no subject
If it's the former, he's not entirely sure how he feels about it; finding a mate isn't something he's considered at all, with how busy he is. Perhaps he should test the waters and compliment him back? ]
Again, thank you... I'm not the best judge of what's considered beautiful by human standards, but I like the colour of your eyes, Monsieur Kaveh. [ He finally replies after a lengthy pause as he takes in the other's facial features, studying them. Crossing one leg over the other, he then adds: ] They are like rubies.
no subject
And then the answer comes, and Kaveh's brows lift in curiosity, even as he smiles at the returned compliment.
"I'm not the best judge of what's considered beautiful by human standards," Neuvillette says, and the young man's eyes search him once more, noting the sharp line of his ears— elf?— and the almost serpentine appearance of his eyes— something else entirely? And maybe Kaveh should just ask, he thinks, but it seems rude even if the stranger seems entirely comfortable and open with who or what he is.
So he smiles, cards fingers through blonde hair, offering a slight, thoughtful tilt of his head. ]
You know, I've never thought of them that way before.. but I like the comparison. Thank you. [ And then, with a teasing laugh: ] Anyway, what's considered "beautiful" is different from person to person, I think, whether human or otherwise. As an example, there are some who find only members of the opposite gender attractive, some for whom the opposite is true, and yet others to whom gender makes no difference either way. It's only fair to assume the same is true for other elements of our appearances.
[ Although if there is an objective scale of beauty— and Kaveh believes there is— there's no doubt Neuvillette is on it. He doesn't say as much, though, not yet. He's pushed his luck quite far already. ]
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And to be frank, many of these standards seem to be completely arbritary...? Humans categorize both themselves and each other as either "beautiful" or "ugly" based on criteria with no consistency whatsoever.
[ In comparison, dragons are far more simple and logical—when searching for a suitable mate, his kind looks for indicators of good health and reproductive ability such as smooth and shiny scales and a splendidly coloured plumage or mane rather than washed out or muted. Those with broken or damaged horns are less suitable candidates; it suggests they have lost a fight and therefore are less capable of protecting their progeny. Individual preferences do factor into the selection process, but a dragon like Azhdaha wouldn't be considered ugly by any prevailing norms because of his adipose tissue. ]
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He nods, slow and thoughtful. ]
I tend to agree. There are many whose attraction is based entirely on what's currently fashionable. I've watched colleagues change their hairstyle and clothes with the season, or to try and get the attention of someone they have their eye on... [ He shrugs, mostly nonchalant, although his eyes are drawn to the stroke of the other's thumb over his cane. ] It doesn't make sense to me— I am who I am, and I'm not about to change for anyone. Nor would I want anyone to change for me.
Still... [ Kaveh can't quite help himself; he lifts his eyes back to the other's face, offers a smile and a wink. ] I know what I like, and I really like intelligence in a man.
[ Then, a chuckle at his own expense. ]
Ah... Am I coming on too strongly?
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Not at all. [ He replies with a shake of his head, his expression impassive. ] I'm not used to being... flirted with, but I find that I do not mind it.
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Which means— mm, there's probably no chance, is there? And yet he can't quite help but give it a try anyway, no matter how far-fetched or improper it might be: ]
Then forgive me for... telling you that I'm staying at the Hotel Debord, [ he says with a chuckle, carding fingers through his hair. ] Room 205. If you... you know, have free time later. After the show.
[ The worst thing that can happen is that the other says no. And this trip has already been such a mess that he has to take a chance on something actually good coming out of it.
(...Ugh. He shouldn't be so negative, should he? His mother got married, she gets to be happy— and yet he can't help it, the frustration and hurt with which his heart has chosen to answer.) ]
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So in all likelihood, Kaveh just invited him to his hotel room for sex. ]
...I will have to think about it. [ Perhaps a no would have been more appropriate, but he ultimately settles on something more non-committal because he does in fact need to think about it. The aquabus slows down as it approaches the station and in his peripheral vision he spots pink hair; that's the reporter from the Steambird, isn't it? She's been trying to get an interview with him recently and while he wouldn't go as far as classify it as stalking she has been showing up more often than he would like. The Steambird is better reading than the garbage published by the Seven Nations Gazette, but he'd rather not be interviewed at all.
Right now, he also doesn't want to risk Kaveh becoming the topic of gossip if the two of them are seen walking to the opera house together. ]
My apologies, but I must go. [ And with that, he stands up as soon as the aquabus comes to a halt and leaves with hurried steps as he tries not to catch the reporter's attention, eventually disappearing into a passage only used by staff where he knows she won't be following him. He spends a couple of minutes chatting with an off-duty Melusine before quietly slipping out through the emergency exit and starts walking down the road leading to the opera house.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary today—that is, until he picks up on what sounds a lot like those unpleasant distorted noise Ruin Guards make. It's accompanied by the sound of stomping and Neuvillette immediately halts in his step, whipping his head in the direction of the sound. He spots two figures on a dirt path leading up to a grassy hill overlooking the Opera Epiclese, one immediately recognizable as a Ruin Guard.
The other one is much smaller with blond hair. He also looks familiar. He immediately rushes forward in their direction, his feelers and coattails glowing a bright bioluminescent blue as he fires off a roaring jet of water that obliterates the barrage of missiles the Ruin Guard just fired before they have the chance to hit their target. ]
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Well, that's a blow to the ego. And sure, he was aiming way out of his league, but...
Ugh. Men. Kaveh resolves to put it out of his mind and enjoy the afternoon the way he originally intended, before he accidentally enamored himself with a complete stranger. With a smile of thanks directed to the Melusine, the blonde leaves the aquabus and starts making his way along the path toward the Opera Epiclese. Irritation puts an accidental quickness to his step, but when he draws nearer to the building he all but draws to a halt, ruby eyes wide with appreciation.
Just like that, all his agitation is gone, replaced by an awe that only a student of the arts can feel when looking upon a building so magnificent. Only, he thinks, his current vantage point on the path leading to it does it no justice whatsoever. So when his eyes alight on a nearby hill, they widen in nothing short of youthful enthusiasm. Leaving the paved road in favor of the grass, he meanders, his annoyance and embarrassment at being so abruptly turned down practically forgotten.
The Ruin Guard catches him by surprise, the mechanical sound of its awakening lost under the quickness of his breath as he moves, and when he turns to the sound of its footfalls, it's just in time to be slapped across the front, and Kaveh tumbles back into the grass, disoriented.
Fuck. Dizzied, off-kilter, he tries at the same time to stand and to reach for a claymore still too heavy for him to wield well; instead of doing either, he gets halfway to his feet and staggers back over again, helpless. His eyes widen as he sees the machine's back starting to glow with the missiles it's about to fire.
Is this how he dies? Alone and rebuffed by everyone, atop a hill in a foreign country, to an ancient, hulking war machine? Kaveh's eyes squeeze shut—
—and open again to the sound of roaring water tearing through the missiles, their explosions lost in the deluge. And is that... Neuvillette firing off that jetstream, with his eyes and hair and clothes glowing in a way that somehow makes him look even more attractive than before?
Fuck, this is so embarrassing, is the last thing Kaveh thinks before he faints. ]
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With the threat being as dead as a machine can possibly be, Neuvillette then quickly rushes over to Kaveh and crouches down, turning him over so he's lying on his back. ]
Monsieur Kaveh, please wake up.
[ He reaches down to loosen Kaveh's tie somewhat so he'll be more comfortable once he stirs and then gives him a firm shaking. ]
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Mm, but of course. With today going as wonderfully as it is, why wouldn't Neuvillette be possessed of a Vision? Why wouldn't he just happen to be the one to come to Kaveh's rescue?
In a moment so supremely stupid his friends would surely never let him forget it, Kaveh considers just rolling back over and pretending to be unconscious again; or better, dead. Instead, he sighs, drops his gaze from that which holds his. ]
I'm fine. [ His voice is sharper than he intends. ] You don't have to worry.
[ A pause, and then, softly: ] Thanks.
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You should stay lying down for a few minutes, even if you feel fine. Standing up too quickly may precipitate another fainting episode.
[ He pauses, gaze lingering on the other's face. ] Why did you wander off the paved road?
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I wanted to see the Opera Epiclese from a better vantage point, [ he explains, and the sharpness has softened, but there's something of a pout in his voice, a frustration at his own inability to keep himself safe.
And perhaps, though he dares not think on it, an ache of loneliness. ]
The structure is magnificent, but its place behind the fountain does it no justice at all.
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Please be more careful from now on. And perhaps consider switching to a weapon that isn't as... unwieldy as a claymore.
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[ Quite frankly, at this point Kaveh feels like he'd be grateful if the sky just opened up and rained lightning on him, putting him out of his misery. But it doesn't, which leaves him to sigh and scowl at the relative stranger as he staggers back to his feet. He says something he doesn't really remember later on, something in a too-sharp voice about knowing his own capability with a weapon, it's not his fault he was caught off-guard, before making a break for it with a muttered acknowledgement of thanks for the help, the show's on soon, gotta go.
Despite his dazed head and his bruised
everythingego, he makes it down the hill and back onto the paved road in practically record time.And so, he tells himself, because today can't possibly get any worse, it has to get better, right? He'll enjoy the trial, go back to the hotel for some all-too-expensive dinner and some drinks, and maybe find a handsome— and agreeable— stranger with whom to spend the night and put himself out of his misery. Of course, though, the darker thoughts crowd his mind as he slips into his seat, a niggling something at the back of his head telling him that with his unluck so far, it won't be much of a surprise if Neuvillette has been assigned the seat right next to his—
Except in the end, that's impossible, because his eyes catch on Neuvillette's figure high above him in the judge's seat, and honestly, somewhere beneath the shock and the horror and the fear of getting thrown in prison for trying to seduce the Chief Fucking Justice of Fontaine, Kaveh wants to laugh, because that really is just his luck, isn't it?
(And Neuvillette is a vision atop his throne, ruling the courtroom with a stern voice and sharp gaze that no one dares question, and Kaveh is ashamed of the threads of arousal pooling heavy in his gut, of the way he can all too easily imagine that voice bringing him to orgasm with a single command—)
It's with cheeks flushed and his sash carefully adjusted over his waist that Kaveh leaves the Opera Epiclese once it's over, and in the end he finds his way back to Hotel Debord in a daze, hardly remembering the walk or the aquabus ride. Now, he finds himself tucked away at one of the tables, eyes closed as he drinks from his third glass of wine— pleasantly tipsy, but nowhere near drunk enough to begin to feel even remotely okay about the mess of a day he's had. ]
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He too returns to the paved road and stops a member of the Garde to inform him that a Ruin Guard had been spotted in the vicinity and that it's been dealt with, but there may be more around. The Garde nods and goes to deploy a group of Gardemeks to patrol the surrounding hills, while Neuvillette hurries the rest of the way to the trial and with just a few minutes to spare, he seats himself in the judge's chair as he's done for several centuries now.
The proceedings begin. A teenage girl stands accused of murdering her older sister by bludgeoning her over the head with a clock in the shape of a Statue of the Seven, and in her last moments the sister had named her killer by writing the defendant's name in her own blood. In typical Fontaine fashion, the trial plays out much like a drama on a theater stage with several twists and turns. The prosecution counters an argument by revealing he had an updated autopsy report. One of the witnesses turn out to be the actual culprit behind the murder. Both Neuvillette and the Oratrice find the girl innocent and dark clouds begin to roll in throughout the sky as the trial is concluded, bringing rain upon the audience as they begin to leave.
Neuvillette lingers in his seat a little longer than usual, his gaze following a certain blonde as he leaves. He actually hadn't thought about him at all during the trial, his undivided attention on the case so he can render a fair and impartial decision based solely on the facts presented. But now that his mind can wander freely again, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel the warmth of another's body against his own.
A few hours later, the Iudex inquires about Monsieur Kaveh at Hotel Debord. He heads inside the restaurant after the receptionist directs him there, and it isn't long before he sees that familiar face at a somewhat secluded table in the back of the room, behind some potted ferns. He approaches with long, purposeful strides, and Kaveh will notice a change in attire—something slightly more casual, with fewer layers to remove later on. ]
Would you mind if I joined you, Monsieur Kaveh? I would like to continue our conversation from before.
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There are eyes on him, too— and why wouldn't there be? He may not remember much of his trip back here, but he knows for a fact it rained— a lot. His regular clothes were drenched through upon his return, and he took a warm shower and cleaned himself up before heading down for dinner. And when Kaveh cleans up, he always makes sure he looks good. So when Neuvillette comes close enough to appreciate him, he'll see that the blonde, too, has had a change of clothes, a more Fontainian style than his previous garb. The blonde's hair is down, soft around his face as he drinks from his glass.
He spies Neuvillette just as he approaches, and his eyes widen with something close to panic— just when he thought the mess of the day was finally over— as his fingers press into the glass so hard that for a moment he thinks it might shatter under his grip. Oh, Archons. He's come to arrest him, hasn't he? To a mind that's usually so highly intelligent— and yet right now not thinking clearly— that's the only thing that makes sense. After all, he tried to seduce the Iudex of Fontaine, and followed that almost immediately by being rude to him after he was rescued—
But Neuvillette simply asks if he may sit with Kaveh, because he would like to continue their conversation, and the blonde's lips, half-parted in panicked protest, hang open in silence. ]
Our— conversation? Which one? [ And then, because he still can't shake the concern from his mind: ] Does this mean you're not going to arrest me?
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The first one. [ He raises an eyebrow at Kaveh's widened eyes and open mouth. ] Unless you're confessing to something you've done between leaving the opera house and now, no. You haven't broken any laws.
[ He hasn't sat down, because Kaveh didn't say if he's permitted to join him. ]
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And. Oh. He looks really good.
...Right. He asked to join— ]
Uh. Right, sorry. Please... please sit down. I just finished eating, and I'm enjoying some of your nation's finest wines, and— ah, can I get you anything?
[ Far from the flirtatiously confident attitude from before, he's a little shaky now, anxious after the events of the day. He reaches, taking a sip from his wine— nothing too deep, as he's suddenly less interested than before in getting blindly drunk— and swallows back the nerves. ]
I guess I thought it was a conversation you weren't interested in having.
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[ Now that he's been given permission to sit, Neuvillette reaches back to push his long hair aside so he doesn't sit on it as he takes a seat in the chair across from Kaveh, his posture befitting that of a man second only to the Archon herself. He then plucks the menu from the wooden stand at the center of the table and takes a moment to peruse the dessert options and the list of beverages. The annoying thing about restaurants is that the menu rarely specifies where their water is sourced from. He doesn't want to pair his meal with subpar water from Liyue. ]
If you're amenable to it, I would like to order dessert for you—consider it a small apology for disembarking the aquabus in such a haste.
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He licks his lips, tasting the red of the wine staining them, and meets those strange lavender eyes with burning crimson. ]
I can't figure you out. [ It's a murmur more than anything, paired with a reflexive touch of his hand to his own head, brushing golden strands back from his face. But his voice becomes stronger, a gentle challenge in the words as he continues: ] If you were going to come here anyway, why run away so fast before? I'll accept your apology and the dessert too if you can explain it.
[ Probably, he has no right to talk to the Iudex of Fontaine in such a way. But he's a little tipsy, and the rejection still stings, even hours later. ]
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[ He replies, serpentine gaze sharp as he regards the other man, particularly the movement of that hand. This is isn't something he normally thinks about at all, but there's something elegant about it; he wonders what it would be like to press his lips against the inside of his wrist, feel the pulse underneath his mouth... he decides not to continue that line of thought for now.
Around them, the restaurant is busy but not so busy that their conversation gets drowned out by noise. Neuvillette is grateful both for the potted ferns that offers some degree of privacy and that most of the people around them are tourists and won't recognize him even if they see him from the angles not blocked by plants. ]
As the Iudex, I would rather not risk having my words twisted through selective quoting. The Seven Nations Gazette already publishes garbage claiming that I'm the sole male Melusine, the Steambird doesn't get to add to the fuel.
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Kaveh bites his lip, shakes his head. ]
If that's the case, then I can hardly accept an apology, sir. If anything... I owe you one. You rescued me from that Ruin Guard and in thanks I was abrupt and rude with you because my pride was hurt. It was... [ He pauses, and sighs. ] It was immature of me. I'm sorry.
[ With that acknowledgement, he wants to ask: was he wrong about what he thought was a rejection? Is that's why Neuvillette has come here? Or is it just that he felt that he needed to apologize for a misstep he didn't actually make?
But he can't quite bring himself to ask. Instead, he says: ] It must be frustrating. Followed around by the press all the time— I'm sure you feel as if you don't have a lot of privacy.
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[ Feeling a small pang of hunger stir in the pit of his stomach—ah, it's been quite some time since his last meal and he didn't have tea with Sedene today because of the trial—so once he's read the dessert options and settled on something he hopes Kaveh will enjoy he considers the dinner selection as well. It'll have to be something light so he doesn't keep Kaveh waiting too long. ]
Being a public figure has its share of disadvantages. But a free press is necessary to ensure an informed public, to open minds to new viewpoints, and to hold the powerful in check.
[ The benefits far outweigh the personal grievances he has with what they publish, which is why's never considered curtailing that freedom with stricter legislation. Pausing for a moment, he then continues: ] I would still like to order you dessert, as a... gift of sorts rather than an apology, then. Providing a potential mate with food is part of the courting process among my kind.
[ The proper way to do it would be to bring him a pile of fish he caught himself, but he has to adapt some courting behaviors to what's more acceptable by human standards. ]
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He wets his lips, halfway into the first word in a gently empathetic comment, when Neuvillette offers the dessert for him once more, explaining it as— as courting, as seeking a potential mate—
Kaveh's cheeks flush, a fluster in the way he looks across at the other man. ]
I. Uh. [ A breath. ] I should make myself... I don't want to lead you on, Monsieur Neuvillette. I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm lonely, and on vacation, and— and you're really attractive. But I'm not looking for a mate. A— a partner.
[ He has a whole life back in Sumeru, after all. A job. A house. A former friend whom he claims to hate, but who has his heart in a vice grip and refuses to let it go. ]
If you're... seeking something more than that, I— I'm the wrong person for you.
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