( Casual gossiping occurs further down the hallway as soon as other inmates begin listening to Kaveh's ... Concerns. Wriothesley rubs his fingers over the metal walls, flicking some rust off and making mental notes to have the maintenance crew check all dorms. He can't say he expected Kaveh to suddenly drop curses for free just like that. Then again, after making such a big deal around sunlight and all of those other important matters, he also thinks it tracks. It's also...Well, endearing. He really shouldn't think of it as such. This is the perfect time to turn the page and make their matters entirely business. He really did think he didn't like men after trials and errors, but maybe he just hadn't met the right man to actually like. All he knows is he can't pursue a friendship that will only lead both parties to heartbreak.
But he can't help it, he has to tease him. )
Freezing? Damn, I guess I should leave, then, huh.
( You know, cause Cryo. Okay, so that was a pretty bad dad joke. He only waits for the consequences he is entirely prepared for, easily removing his jacket and wearing a shit-eating smirk. Contrary to his Vision, his jacket is still vibrant and hot with his temperature and musk. Potent like his stare, laced with a depth of his masculinity. It'll suit Kaveh perfectly while they're touring colder rooms like these. )
Here, wear this for the time being.
That's an interesting toolbox. You'll have to tell me about it later when you see my other project.
But really, no need to make a big fuss. I wasn't aware there was active mold happening on this side. I only have two eyes, you know. I'll make sure someone comes down here to deal with it. No one's ever made complaints either. I hope this doesn't mean people are getting sick and not reporting it to me.
[ The Look that Kaveh fixes Wriothesley with is one both irritated and exhausted at once. That joke... it's almost Cyno in its execution, and it's all he can do not to groan audibly. Still, he accepts the jacket, winding it around his shoulders— and Archons, he has never felt quite so small as he does now, dwarfed in the broad shoulders of Wriothesley's jacket
(and it's warm, and the musk of his scent sends a delightful shudder down Kaveh's spine, taking him away from the frustration and giving him something else on which to focus)
he sighs, trying not to make it too obvious that he's breathing in his scent. ]
Thanks.
[ He listens to Wriothesley speak, but the usual urge to preen over Mehrak is temporarily muted by his attention to the rest of what the other is saying. For as much as Kaveh yells his frustrations, he can see that the other man genuinely cares about what's going on in this place— that if people are reporting sicknesses, he'll deal with it, he'll fix it.
Kaveh believes him.
Another sigh, and he lifts a hand, gesturing to Mehrak, watching as it flits about the room to scan some points of issue. When he has time later on, he can draw something up, find a way to make these "quaint" rooms more livable both for the newer inmates and those who choose to live out the rest of their lives here after their sentences are concluded. ]
Sorry for yelling. I know you're trying to run this whole place, and I'm sure it's not easy... So I appreciate all the care you're giving to your people, and I get that you don't want them to be sick either, and...
[ He sighs yet again, and wrinkles his nose. ]
Do you trust me enough to let me draw up some ideas? There are ways this can be improved, not just for livability but also to prevent issues like this from even happening.
( Maybe it wasn't strategic enough. Oh well, that won't stop him from future attempts at humor. He watches him put on the jacket, proving their difference in bulk as it practically swallows his shoulders and frame. At least he'll be warm this way. He's numb to the bitter coldness radiating on metal walls. There are some areas with better ventilation of warm air, especially the factory. Well, Kaveh's clothes are also unfriendly outside the heat and humidity of Sumeru. )
Don't sweat it. Yelling isn't the worst thing you can do around here. But if you yell at me in front of others, I might have to pretend-arrest you and put you in solitary confinement.
( He's kidding but he's not actually kidding. )
Come on. The bathing area is on the other side. I know that's cleaned regularly. There's one communal bathroom for men and one for women.
( He glances slightly down at him with a smile. ) If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be here. Your insight will be instrumental to us for the years to come. How often do I get the chance to have a famous architect give the place an audit of sorts?
Speaking of, your toolbox runs on an ancient rune core, no?
( He asks this as they step into another elevator. )
[ Kaveh scowls. He has no problem with jokes when they're funny. But with the amount of time he's spent with Cyno, his patience for them is thin. He thinks about firing back, but his attention falls instead to the jacket now around his shoulders, and then to Wriothesley's answer to his apology.
And he has to try especially hard not to react when the warden mentions something about pretending to arrest him, tone joking but not, and very suddenly all Kaveh can think about is being spread out under Wriothesley, wrists snagged together and secured by the cuffs the other man usually wears at his waist.
He swallows, and glances away while he tries to gather his wits again. Thankfully, the other man helps him by moving them along, by praising his ability as an architect— most importantly by asking a question about Mehrak, which sparks his mood toward the positive more than anything else ever could have done. ]
Yes, it does, one from the ruins of King Deshret's civilization. I spent an insane amount of Mora on it, and then built Mehrak with it and the other tools I had on hand. For the most part, it's proven to be more than worth the investment. Plus, [ he adds with an amused smirk, ] it can't argue with me, which is very beneficial.
( The autonomous nature of the device keeps Wriothesley captivated momentarily, perceiving some traces of emotions flashing in its display when Kaveh talks about it. He reaches out for it to, well, caress one of its edges as if it were a small animal. )
I’ve read about them. It’s no easy feat getting them to work as well as yours does.
Who likes arguing? This thing looks too cute to be wasting time on nonsense. I like it. I assume you’d never part ways with it, huh? And by that I mean, it’s not for sale.
( Other curious inmates in the distance gawk at the two, considering Kaveh is wearing his jacket after all.
Whether Wriothesley has used his handcuffs for other activities besides work is only for him to know. They are special after all, and they have seen some of the worst people he’s come across. Besides— wouldn’t it be more intimate if he locks Kaveh’s wrists using nothing but the brute force in his hands?
He leads him to a closed off section where only their footsteps echo down the long pipe. )
Watch your step. I wanted to renovate this area to make more dorm space.
[ He can't quite help the swell of pride when Wriothesley reaches out to practically pat Mehrak, the toolbox trilling and displaying a happier expression for the praise— and not for the first time, Kaveh wonders to himself just how much it can actually understand. But for now, he shakes his head in response to the prison warden's question, ignoring the other part about who would actually like arguing— because clearly, the Akademiya people who have ended up here are not exactly typical Akademiya types. ]
It's not for sale, no. It's too reliable a partner. We work well together.
[ He can just focus on Mehrak, can't he? That's probably the best idea when he doesn't want himself to get lost in the desires held in his mind, when he's trying his best at the same time to ignore the gawping onlookers.
(He wonders if it's obvious; if the way he looks at Wriothesley can be seen by all who so much as glance in his direction.)
And speaking of the man in question... Watch your step, he says, but it's a warning that comes a moment too late, Kaveh's foot not lifting quite high enough to clear a section of piping; he yelps, and then his hands come out to try and catch him as he falls. ]
( Since he can’t have pets around here, Mehrak would have been a great alternative. Responsive enough to fill the gaps of loneliness while not requiring sunlight or babysitting. He wears an understandable hint of disappointment when Kaveh confirms Mehrak isn’t for sale. He would have dropped millions easily for it.
The narrower walls around them also have lined up pipes on the ground. Without care behind a step and one could easily trip or lose footing over them.
Nobody is allowed on these parts, which gives the two more privacy. He leads Kaveh onward, and it’s easy to note the greying hair on back of his head, mixing like salt and pepper. At least he doesn't have to worry about sun damage down here, otherwise he might end up looking even older than he is.
The moment he hears Kaveh make a sudden sound, his reflexes kick in. The rush of pure adrenaline pumps with so much force, his speed is nearly uncanny. A boxer’s speed. Before Kaveh gets a chance to land hands first on rusted groundwork, Wriothesley saves the fall by tackling him upward.
His arms are thick around him, and he never truly realized how small his waist is. He holds him against the brick wall, saving him from any scratches thanks to his jacket. Their bodies meet completely by their hips, and icy blues peer down at him to make sure he didn’t sprain his ankle or anything else. He sighs. )
[ Wriothesley's disappointment is palpable enough that Kaveh has a sudden, wild thought: when he gets back to Sumeru, he could source another core, design something similar to Mehrak for the other man. There's no guarantee he would create something exactly the same, but at the very least—
Of course, his train of thought is disrupted by his falling through space, and lost entirely when he's snatched right out of it and pinned into the wall, strong arms wound around his waist and hips locked against his own, and Archons Wriothesley is so close to him, peering down with those ice blue eyes, and making Kaveh's stomach twist itself in knots.
All he would need to do is tilt his head upward, step into him just that little more—
Kaveh swallows, and drops his gaze from the other's face, trying desperately to slow the pounding ache of his heart. ]
I'm— I'm fine.
[ And he lifts his hands, braces them against Wriothesley's chest so that he can push him back, step away from the wall—
only to stumble as soon as he puts weight on his right leg, a curse and a flail of his hands in the other's direction as the ankle gives out from under him. ]
( So Kaveh will carve his way into his heart by carving out one ancient rune core at the time, huh. It might just work.
A reflex in him also chills the tips of his fingers, nearly infusing him with Cryo. He would have remained close to him a second longer if it weren’t for Kaveh prying him off by his chest. Progress and advances live in different wavelengths and the beats of his heart can’t seem to align. )
Right. Sure thing.
( He glances down at his footing, scans his body length and then his feet again. He hadn’t noticed his shoes before, let alone how exposed his ankles are. It should be illegal for a man to be this absolute miracle who threatens the beauty of timeless beings.
When he tries to hold his own weight and fails miserably at it, Wriothesley is quick to catch him. This time they’re not against a wall, but on the hallway. He scoops his arm around Kaveh’s waist so he can latch his other over broader shoulders. )
Perfect way to segue-way to our next destination then. This area can wait.
[ Fuck— If he's going to be working down here, he's going to need better clothing, shoes made for metal floors and not for desert and jungle. As Wriothesley catches him again, pulls him upright into a supportive hold, Kaveh closes his eyes, frustrated and embarrassed and hurting all at once.
But he's stubborn, and to the question, he shakes his head, claims not to be in any pain— even as he acquiesces and winds an arm over Wriothesley's broad shoulders, the careful way he moves alongside the other revealing the unspoken reality of his situation.
(Archons, it's so embarrassing— on one hand, he knows there's nothing he can do to win Wriothesley's heart over; on the other, he only wants the other man to see him at his best, his strongest, as if it will somehow make a difference...) ]
I'm okay, really. It's not that bad. The nurse should be able to help, and then I'll be okay to continue the tour— [ A deep, trembling breath as they continue to move forward, each step lancing pain up his leg even as he puts only the smallest amount of weight on it. ] I have lots of ideas, you know. When are you wanting to start the work?
( He'll ensure he receives the proper wear after they talk to Sigewinne. He didn't think the area was so dangerous to cause harm like this and he's obviously trying to keep himself from limping. Wriothesley doesn't see him as weak because of it. He feels more responsible than anything. His hand lowers onto his hip and up to his ribcage so he can lift off some of his weight. The only reason he doesn't offer to carry him outright is because well, he knows the answer. )
We'll see what the nurse has to say and then we can move forward with any plans. I'd feel bad seeing you off to Sumeru again wounded under my watch.
( He keeps moving across the main hall. The entire Fortress is probably already aware of Kaveh's existence by now. Fantasy talk might help the pain for the time being, though. )
I'd love to hear your ideas now. After seeing the scans from your toolbox, what do you think should be the main priority?
[ Kaveh bites his lip, swallowing against the sudden flush of heat he feels creeping up his cheeks as Wriothesley's hand cups around the curve of his hip, then lifts to his ribcage. It's a more intimate hold than he feels comfortable accepting from someone who has made his lack of interest clear, especially when Kaveh has been so horribly unable to shake his own attraction— but he also knows there's no point trying to break free. His limp is real, whether from a poor choice of footwear or a broken pipe acting as an unexpected danger or simply clumsiness.
Besides, Wriothesley is right, isn't he? He's going back to Sumeru in just a couple of days,
isn't he?
..He'll focus on the question, instead of the arm wound at his side. ]
I'll need to go through and look at everything more closely later, but so far there are two things I think really need to be looked at: First, I want to find a way to improve the structure in such a way that it doesn't have to be in such a state of constant repair and renewal. That will require research and experimentation, though, and may be a longer-term project. More urgently is the state of some of the living quarters. Even if they're not all moldy and leaking, this place is cold, and I think it's possible to make your inmates more comfortable without treating them to luxury.
( To someone starving for true affection, it's normal to pass his concern or friendliness for another landslide of mixed signals. The culprit at play is in fact curiosity, and it is the attraction he tries to disguise with a true layer of concern. )
Treating for mold seems like the easier of the two, I can get someone in my network to handle the logistics on how to handle that. Sounds like the longer project will also involve more money, so I'll have to run numbers later tonight and come up with a budget.
( Unlike Kaveh, Wriothesley won't fantasize about idealism, but he does take safety seriously. When Sigewinne sees Kaveh's condition the moment they enter the office, she guides Wriothesley to have Kaveh sit on one of the beds. At least he's getting a true prison experience in this regard. No other tour could be as close as this one. Wriothesley watches from the side. )
Well? Is it sprained?
( Sigewinne shakes her head and goes to find some pain medication. )
This should do for now. I recommend not moving too much and resting your foot as much as possible until you're comfortable again. This cream will also help. His Grace is an expert when it comes to wrapping limbs, as you can see. He refuses to come in when he gets hurt. Hmph.
( Ah, she didn't have to say that. Wriothesley sighs and takes the other items, like the bandages and cream. )
Okay, but did I die? Hah. Come on, Kaveh. I can help you to my office. We can take a break for now and have some tea, too.
[ Wriothesley's words make him nod in thought, even if he has to fight back the urge to point out again that it's not just the mold, it's the state of the dormitories in general. First and foremost, the Duke has to work out a budget— only then can they argue about what needs to be done. For his part, Kaveh will spend the night researching materials and builds that will allow them to do what needs to be done in the safest, but most cost-efficient, way possible. And he probably shouldn't play his cards so soon, but he can't help the way he answers: ]
If your budget supports an earlier start, I may just stay in Fontaine for the time being. I have no major ongoing projects in Sumeru right now, and going home only to have to come back seems like a waste of time and money. [ Depending on the pay, though, he'll probably look into staying somewhere other than his mother's place, he thinks. Things are uncomfortable enough already.
Guided into the infirmary, Kaveh offers his best smile to Sigewinne, sitting down and watching in relative silence the interaction between the warden and the nurse, and then listening seriously to her recommendations for his own care.
(And he shoots a Look at Wriothesley when she mentions his refusal to care for himself properly. Not that he has any right to police the other man's self-care habits, but...) ]
Thank you, Miss Sigewinne. [ Kaveh smiles, and then lets Wriothesley help him back to his feet. He wants to spend more time here, question her about her facilities and what she would need from a remodel, but he's not about to further overstay his welcome when he's already done so in a thousand other ways. So he makes a mental note to ask her later, and then lets himself be guided toward the Duke's office. A break sounds good. ]
( Did Kaveh glare at him in the nursery or is he inhaling too much mold? A few inmates manage to get greetings out when they're walking back through the Administrative area: Good evening, Your Grace, is the most common one. Kaveh's figure is smothered by the oversized jacket but it doesn't mean some don't envy his beauty.
Once inside, he ensures Kaveh takes proper steps on the steep staircase. He doesn't make the same mistake twice and he refuses to see Kaveh hurt again. The stars have other plans. One of which includes Kaveh suddenly reeling back his choice to leave Fontaine in two days. Peculiar, really. As far as he can tell, Kaveh's living situation here doesn't strike him as comfortable. What does Wriothesley know about family, though? )
Easier if you sit at the desk instead.
( He slips away from Kaveh's side quite reluctantly so he can slide over a chair for himself. It's not weird to practically be seated between his knees with Kaveh's injured foot on his leg, is it? Not unless he makes it weird. If he were anyone else, he'd be doing the same.
So now to figure out the clasps on his shoes and how they come off: he has enough high-heel experience to easily find it and remove it from him. The shoe stays on the table. As he opens up the cream, he begins to wonder why Sigewinne didn't insist on keeping Kaveh in her office. The deep thought keeps his brows creased, fingers dipping into the small jar to then apply the anti-affirmatory cream around Kaveh's ankle. He traces around his bone and behind his Achilles tendon. Eyes flicker up at him. )
If you don't have any major projects, then I can always assign you a room here. It would take you at least two hours commuting every day if you're staying in the city and then we'd also need a letter from Neuvillette permitting you to go in and out as you please. Technically the entrance is still within his jurisdiction. Oh, you probably haven't met him, he's the Iudex. I can get that done easily if you don't want to stay here with all the deadly mold and treacherous pipes... Does this hurt, by the way?
[ It's something of a whirlwind; before long at all, Kaveh finds himself seated on Wriothesley's desk, foot resting on the other's thigh as he sits between his knees, and at any other time he might be a little drawn by the imagery of it, but right now he's overwhelmed and tired, not to mention embarrassed by the fuss his clumsiness has caused. So he sits in silence, eyes closed as the Duke's fingers work the cream into his skin forcing himself to focus on the words and not the pain.
And then Wriothesley makes some gentle jibe about the danger of the place, and Kaveh's eyes open, the crimson alight with curiosity for just a moment before a flash of annoyance takes his expression. ]
You are so—
[ But it's good-natured, at least as far as the poke of the warden's cheek would indicate, a playful jab against his scarred cheekbone, a flick of a neatly-manicured nail against the skin even as he genuinely considers the offer. In all honesty, it would make more sense to accept than not; hotels are expensive, and the travel time each day would wear on him quickly. But...
Ah. Wriothesley asked him a question. ]
It hurts, but not from you touching it, [ he says before he continues on in answer, his voice firm but friendly: ] I would need a guarantee that I'd have a room without mold. And I'd want some basic amenities too. Nothing fancy, and you can take it out of my pay if you want, but I won't live like a prisoner just to do a job. [ A pause as he tilts his head thoughtfully. ] Would I be able to leave once a week? Maybe just to get some fresh air, or maybe to go for drinks... I don't need freedom every day, but I'd like to not feel like I'm trapped here.
[ After all, it promises to be the most unique and interesting work he's taken on to date, but he doesn't want to feel like one of the prisoners kept here for breaking the laws of the land. ]
( He can't help a raspy laugh the moment Kaveh decides to probe his finger on his cheekbone, although internally he thinks it's bold of him. Perhaps this should be the extent of their touch, even if they both end up starving.
It shouldn't be this easy testing the limits of Kaveh's patience, playful as they currently are. Anybody else could probably point out how Wriothesley's voice is so marginally flirtatious when all is said and done. This is why consciously keeps his wit at bay, fearing it might bleed from playful banter to real flirting attempts. The truth is no one can ever tell the difference.
He wipes his hands on a cloth from the nursery and begins to work the gauze around his ankle, pressing lightly to ensure it sticks properly without cutting circulation. )
Since you'll be staying here, give me a day to send out a letter to the Chief Justice and we can arrange weekly entry. That also gives me time to write up a contract for us to sign.
( Kaveh's wishes only cement the idea in his head that this would never work after all. Kaveh needs to spread his wings, he needs the fresh air and he needs all the life the surface has to offer. He rolls the bandages underneath his heel and around the frame of his foot, ripping away the end of it once it's secure. He sits back against the chair, arms crossed and proud of his work. )
I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid VIP rooms never existed in here and my room is, well, mine.
( He stands up and picks up any pieces of trash left behind, tossing them into the right bin by his desk. Something curious still itches for an answer, though. )
What do you mean by amenities?
( A pool? Personal gym? Yoga classes? Kaveh, you get food and a bed, what more else could you possibly want? )
[ Wriothesley's teasing is met with another roll of Kaveh's eyes, although it's good-natured and playful. Unlike the duke, he's not good at forcing himself to keep his natural flirtatiousness at bay, especially when he's talking to someone in whom he's so obviously interested; when he draws his hand back, it's not before he reaches to playfully— gently— tug at one of the other's helix piercings.
He falls silent again as the other sets about wrapping his ankle, explaining what he has to do next— and Kaveh nods, because everything makes sense—
Until it doesn't, and he looks up with yet another eyeroll. Didn't he just say that he doesn't need anything fancy? He's not asking for a VIP room, he just wants to be able to sleep comfortably when he's working here.
Well, if Wriothesley can tease... ]
Oh, you know, nothing too special. Round the clock room service, an on-call masseuse... [ He breaks off with a bright, amused laugh. ] I just want comfortable bedding. Warm. A bigger desk than what is usually offered— I need it for drafting. A coffee grinder wouldn't go astray. And... [ He pauses, wrinkling his nose. Honestly, this last one is possibly the most unreasonable, but he has to say it. ]
Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about being required to bathe in such a public setting.
[ His eyes drop, ostensibly focusing on his wrapped ankle as he tests it gingerly against the floor, even as he sits. ]
( The touch is dangerous, Kaveh. A surge of splintering heat is triggered with the innocent motion on his helix piercing. He covers up the jolt with a laugh, pulling away from him and stay busy fixing papers on the other side of his desk. Wild thoughts are like cotton between his ears, tuning onto Kaveh and all his demands.
He glances at him through his peripheral, airing another laugh. )
That’s fair. You don’t have to room near any inmates. Since you’re technically working here, you can have one of the rooms our staff uses. It’s slightly warmer and more comfortable, but sorry. We don’t have a masseuse in the premises.
( He holds his words back this time, keeping his good handiwork to himself. Navia always raves about how good he is massaging the stress out of her shoulders. )
I didn’t think you were the shy type. In that case, you can use my bathroom. I can go find an extra key to my room, you sit tight while I go get it.
[ Of course, he has no idea how badly he's affected the other. Wriothesley is a mystery to him, an unanswered question he desperately wants to understand even though he's accepted he probably never will. To him, this flirtatious banter is just that, a silly exchange between two people who have become friends despite his own desire for more. So he pouts playfully about the masseuse, offers a withering look in response to the comment about his being shy, and there's a rejoinder of sorts still trying to find its way to his lips when the warden gets up and leaves to get the key in question.
He should thank him— offering a key to his personal room is a little much even for a contractor who's also a friend, he thinks— but it's another thought that goes unfinished when a vibration against his chest startles him. ]
Oh. Shit.. Your Grace—
[ He fumbles in getting the phone from its pocket in Wriothesley's jacket, fingers accidentally brushing against the screen in a way that brings up not only the message thread that has caused the phone to vibrate, but one of the previous sent messages— a video, at that.
He would recognize those hands anywhere. And that groan, low and throaty and desperate as he fucks his own grip—
Kaveh's eyes are wild. He should put the phone down; instead, trembling fingers scroll back in the conversation, and then forward, watching the white of Wriothesley's pleasure spill thick over his own abdomen, reading the text accompanying it— "all yours."— seeing the lazily smiling face of an impossibly beautiful blonde, licking her own sheen from a sex toy.
His vision is blurring.
Fuck. Fuck. He comes back to himself too late, quickly exiting the conversation and dropping the phone on the desk like it's caught fire, and before he can stop himself he's wrestling a shoe on and slipping to his feet, wincing at the way the injury wants to make his ankle give out from under him. Wriothesley's jacket is draped over the desk, his arms folded protectively over his chest.
As soon as the other re-enters the room, Kaveh makes a weak little gesture in the direction of the phone. ] You got a message. Sorry. I, um. I have to go, but. I'll come back tomorrow about the contract just— just um, tell me when.
( It is out of the ordinary letting a contractor in the confines of his privacy. Not even Neuvillette has been in his room, and the ones who have conditions that extend the Fortress culture. He can’t always be the one visiting Navia on the surface so she makes the trip here.
Everybody needs a comfortable shower and privacy and Kaveh, as a worker, shouldn’t be subjected to all the restrictions inmates have.
He picks up the key from the front desk and walks back into his office. To his surprise, Kaveh is downstairs already, shoes on and jacket gone. This behavior is similar to someone crippled by panic— the stuttering and need for flight. He almost reaches for him to hold him back by his shoulder, but Wriothesley’s inhibition could handle war. )
I’ll go check it out, thanks. I have the key— are you in pain? We still have the rest of the tour to get through, my room included. The handles on the shower can be finicky.
( Words do fall on deaf ears. He can’t speak over Kaveh already making up his mind that this is all they both get for today. Besides, he still needs to write a contract, and run the budget numbers. Yet the way Kaveh’s voice sounds feels awry. Perhaps the Fortress is even more inappropriate for him than he expected. )
I'm fine— [ The words are bitten out, harsher and sharper on his tongue than Kaveh intends, evidence of the panic creeping under his skin moment by moment. He can't do this; he can't be near him any longer, not when he feels as if he's about to burst into tears at any moment.
He doesn't know who she is, but of course Wriothesley would go for someone like her. She's beautiful. Sexy. Her tone in text playful and sweet at the same time. Kaveh imagines that she can make him smile, bring warmth to the cold blue of his eyes. In his mind's eye he can see her splayed across his chest, fingers dancing over scars he can only imagine, sweet kisses coaxing ragged gasps from between his lips.
Fuck...
Why does he care so much? It's just a stupid fucking crush, there's no need for him to be getting this worked up over someone he already knew he couldn't have— ]
I'm fine. Sorry. I'm sorry, I just— I don't feel well. But I'm fine. I can make my way back to the dock. We can finish the tour tomorrow. Okay?
[ This time, he doesn't wait for an answer; he hurries from the room as well as he can on one good foot and one bad, hobbling more than he is walking, and it's probably frightfully obvious to Wriothesley just how not fine he is— but it doesn't matter. He just needs to be gone.
Somehow, he manages to keep the tears at bay until he's on the elevator leading back to the surface world. ]
( He’s obviously not fine, but Wriothesley doesn’t bother adding more pressure. He can smell an argument out of this, and besides— Kaveh is better off on the surface. What he holds back is his biting loneliness watching as his doors close again. This is why he doesn’t get attached.
As he’s climbing stairs again he realizes he already is. How many months has it been, even if they only speak mostly through text. It’ll be like a missing piece once Kaveh does decide to leave Fontaine.
He’s putting on his jacket while looking down at his phone, and when he flips it over he’s met with Navia’s beautiful face. Nude and sensual. The messages are opened on their chat, and suddenly he feels sick in his stomach.
He looks back at the stairs, short of breath. It’s not like he can catch up with him, but he can’t say he’s not unbothered that Kaveh took the liberty of browsing a private conversation without his consent.
Fuck.
He sits at this desk, briskly handling papers as if they deserve his violence. Then he rubs his temples while leaning down to watch the blankness of it. He could pretend he doesn’t know, but where will that take them?
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sempiternals2023-11-16 11:24 pm
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But he can't help it, he has to tease him. )
Freezing? Damn, I guess I should leave, then, huh.
( You know, cause Cryo. Okay, so that was a pretty bad dad joke. He only waits for the consequences he is entirely prepared for, easily removing his jacket and wearing a shit-eating smirk. Contrary to his Vision, his jacket is still vibrant and hot with his temperature and musk. Potent like his stare, laced with a depth of his masculinity. It'll suit Kaveh perfectly while they're touring colder rooms like these. )
Here, wear this for the time being.
That's an interesting toolbox. You'll have to tell me about it later when you see my other project.
But really, no need to make a big fuss. I wasn't aware there was active mold happening on this side. I only have two eyes, you know. I'll make sure someone comes down here to deal with it. No one's ever made complaints either. I hope this doesn't mean people are getting sick and not reporting it to me.
Besides all those issues... It's pretty quaint.
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(and it's warm, and the musk of his scent sends a delightful shudder down Kaveh's spine, taking him away from the frustration and giving him something else on which to focus)
he sighs, trying not to make it too obvious that he's breathing in his scent. ]
Thanks.
[ He listens to Wriothesley speak, but the usual urge to preen over Mehrak is temporarily muted by his attention to the rest of what the other is saying. For as much as Kaveh yells his frustrations, he can see that the other man genuinely cares about what's going on in this place— that if people are reporting sicknesses, he'll deal with it, he'll fix it.
Kaveh believes him.
Another sigh, and he lifts a hand, gesturing to Mehrak, watching as it flits about the room to scan some points of issue. When he has time later on, he can draw something up, find a way to make these "quaint" rooms more livable both for the newer inmates and those who choose to live out the rest of their lives here after their sentences are concluded. ]
Sorry for yelling. I know you're trying to run this whole place, and I'm sure it's not easy... So I appreciate all the care you're giving to your people, and I get that you don't want them to be sick either, and...
[ He sighs yet again, and wrinkles his nose. ]
Do you trust me enough to let me draw up some ideas? There are ways this can be improved, not just for livability but also to prevent issues like this from even happening.
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( Maybe it wasn't strategic enough. Oh well, that won't stop him from future attempts at humor. He watches him put on the jacket, proving their difference in bulk as it practically swallows his shoulders and frame. At least he'll be warm this way. He's numb to the bitter coldness radiating on metal walls. There are some areas with better ventilation of warm air, especially the factory. Well, Kaveh's clothes are also unfriendly outside the heat and humidity of Sumeru. )
Don't sweat it. Yelling isn't the worst thing you can do around here. But if you yell at me in front of others, I might have to pretend-arrest you and put you in solitary confinement.
( He's kidding but he's not actually kidding. )
Come on. The bathing area is on the other side. I know that's cleaned regularly. There's one communal bathroom for men and one for women.
( He glances slightly down at him with a smile. ) If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be here. Your insight will be instrumental to us for the years to come. How often do I get the chance to have a famous architect give the place an audit of sorts?
Speaking of, your toolbox runs on an ancient rune core, no?
( He asks this as they step into another elevator. )
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And he has to try especially hard not to react when the warden mentions something about pretending to arrest him, tone joking but not, and very suddenly all Kaveh can think about is being spread out under Wriothesley, wrists snagged together and secured by the cuffs the other man usually wears at his waist.
He swallows, and glances away while he tries to gather his wits again. Thankfully, the other man helps him by moving them along, by praising his ability as an architect— most importantly by asking a question about Mehrak, which sparks his mood toward the positive more than anything else ever could have done. ]
Yes, it does, one from the ruins of King Deshret's civilization. I spent an insane amount of Mora on it, and then built Mehrak with it and the other tools I had on hand. For the most part, it's proven to be more than worth the investment. Plus, [ he adds with an amused smirk, ] it can't argue with me, which is very beneficial.
[ Floating alongside Kaveh, Mehrak frowns. ]
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I’ve read about them. It’s no easy feat getting them to work as well as yours does.
Who likes arguing? This thing looks too cute to be wasting time on nonsense. I like it. I assume you’d never part ways with it, huh? And by that I mean, it’s not for sale.
( Other curious inmates in the distance gawk at the two, considering Kaveh is wearing his jacket after all.
Whether Wriothesley has used his handcuffs for other activities besides work is only for him to know. They are special after all, and they have seen some of the worst people he’s come across. Besides— wouldn’t it be more intimate if he locks Kaveh’s wrists using nothing but the brute force in his hands?
He leads him to a closed off section where only their footsteps echo down the long pipe. )
Watch your step. I wanted to renovate this area to make more dorm space.
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It's not for sale, no. It's too reliable a partner. We work well together.
[ He can just focus on Mehrak, can't he? That's probably the best idea when he doesn't want himself to get lost in the desires held in his mind, when he's trying his best at the same time to ignore the gawping onlookers.
(He wonders if it's obvious; if the way he looks at Wriothesley can be seen by all who so much as glance in his direction.)
And speaking of the man in question... Watch your step, he says, but it's a warning that comes a moment too late, Kaveh's foot not lifting quite high enough to clear a section of piping; he yelps, and then his hands come out to try and catch him as he falls. ]
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The narrower walls around them also have lined up pipes on the ground. Without care behind a step and one could easily trip or lose footing over them.
Nobody is allowed on these parts, which gives the two more privacy. He leads Kaveh onward, and it’s easy to note the greying hair on back of his head, mixing like salt and pepper. At least he doesn't have to worry about sun damage down here, otherwise he might end up looking even older than he is.
The moment he hears Kaveh make a sudden sound, his reflexes kick in. The rush of pure adrenaline pumps with so much force, his speed is nearly uncanny. A boxer’s speed. Before Kaveh gets a chance to land hands first on rusted groundwork, Wriothesley saves the fall by tackling him upward.
His arms are thick around him, and he never truly realized how small his waist is. He holds him against the brick wall, saving him from any scratches thanks to his jacket. Their bodies meet completely by their hips, and icy blues peer down at him to make sure he didn’t sprain his ankle or anything else. He sighs. )
Are you okay?
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Of course, his train of thought is disrupted by his falling through space, and lost entirely when he's snatched right out of it and pinned into the wall, strong arms wound around his waist and hips locked against his own, and Archons Wriothesley is so close to him, peering down with those ice blue eyes, and making Kaveh's stomach twist itself in knots.
All he would need to do is tilt his head upward, step into him just that little more—
Kaveh swallows, and drops his gaze from the other's face, trying desperately to slow the pounding ache of his heart. ]
I'm— I'm fine.
[ And he lifts his hands, braces them against Wriothesley's chest so that he can push him back, step away from the wall—
only to stumble as soon as he puts weight on his right leg, a curse and a flail of his hands in the other's direction as the ankle gives out from under him. ]
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A reflex in him also chills the tips of his fingers, nearly infusing him with Cryo. He would have remained close to him a second longer if it weren’t for Kaveh prying him off by his chest. Progress and advances live in different wavelengths and the beats of his heart can’t seem to align. )
Right. Sure thing.
( He glances down at his footing, scans his body length and then his feet again. He hadn’t noticed his shoes before, let alone how exposed his ankles are. It should be illegal for a man to be this absolute miracle who threatens the beauty of timeless beings.
When he tries to hold his own weight and fails miserably at it, Wriothesley is quick to catch him. This time they’re not against a wall, but on the hallway. He scoops his arm around Kaveh’s waist so he can latch his other over broader shoulders. )
Perfect way to segue-way to our next destination then. This area can wait.
We do have a head nurse. Are you in any pain?
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But he's stubborn, and to the question, he shakes his head, claims not to be in any pain— even as he acquiesces and winds an arm over Wriothesley's broad shoulders, the careful way he moves alongside the other revealing the unspoken reality of his situation.
(Archons, it's so embarrassing— on one hand, he knows there's nothing he can do to win Wriothesley's heart over; on the other, he only wants the other man to see him at his best, his strongest, as if it will somehow make a difference...) ]
I'm okay, really. It's not that bad. The nurse should be able to help, and then I'll be okay to continue the tour— [ A deep, trembling breath as they continue to move forward, each step lancing pain up his leg even as he puts only the smallest amount of weight on it. ] I have lots of ideas, you know. When are you wanting to start the work?
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We'll see what the nurse has to say and then we can move forward with any plans. I'd feel bad seeing you off to Sumeru again wounded under my watch.
( He keeps moving across the main hall. The entire Fortress is probably already aware of Kaveh's existence by now. Fantasy talk might help the pain for the time being, though. )
I'd love to hear your ideas now. After seeing the scans from your toolbox, what do you think should be the main priority?
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Besides, Wriothesley is right, isn't he? He's going back to Sumeru in just a couple of days,
isn't he?
..He'll focus on the question, instead of the arm wound at his side. ]
I'll need to go through and look at everything more closely later, but so far there are two things I think really need to be looked at: First, I want to find a way to improve the structure in such a way that it doesn't have to be in such a state of constant repair and renewal. That will require research and experimentation, though, and may be a longer-term project. More urgently is the state of some of the living quarters. Even if they're not all moldy and leaking, this place is cold, and I think it's possible to make your inmates more comfortable without treating them to luxury.
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Treating for mold seems like the easier of the two, I can get someone in my network to handle the logistics on how to handle that. Sounds like the longer project will also involve more money, so I'll have to run numbers later tonight and come up with a budget.
( Unlike Kaveh, Wriothesley won't fantasize about idealism, but he does take safety seriously. When Sigewinne sees Kaveh's condition the moment they enter the office, she guides Wriothesley to have Kaveh sit on one of the beds. At least he's getting a true prison experience in this regard. No other tour could be as close as this one. Wriothesley watches from the side. )
Well? Is it sprained?
( Sigewinne shakes her head and goes to find some pain medication. )
This should do for now. I recommend not moving too much and resting your foot as much as possible until you're comfortable again. This cream will also help. His Grace is an expert when it comes to wrapping limbs, as you can see. He refuses to come in when he gets hurt. Hmph.
( Ah, she didn't have to say that. Wriothesley sighs and takes the other items, like the bandages and cream. )
Okay, but did I die? Hah. Come on, Kaveh. I can help you to my office. We can take a break for now and have some tea, too.
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If your budget supports an earlier start, I may just stay in Fontaine for the time being. I have no major ongoing projects in Sumeru right now, and going home only to have to come back seems like a waste of time and money. [ Depending on the pay, though, he'll probably look into staying somewhere other than his mother's place, he thinks. Things are uncomfortable enough already.
Guided into the infirmary, Kaveh offers his best smile to Sigewinne, sitting down and watching in relative silence the interaction between the warden and the nurse, and then listening seriously to her recommendations for his own care.
(And he shoots a Look at Wriothesley when she mentions his refusal to care for himself properly. Not that he has any right to police the other man's self-care habits, but...) ]
Thank you, Miss Sigewinne. [ Kaveh smiles, and then lets Wriothesley help him back to his feet. He wants to spend more time here, question her about her facilities and what she would need from a remodel, but he's not about to further overstay his welcome when he's already done so in a thousand other ways. So he makes a mental note to ask her later, and then lets himself be guided toward the Duke's office. A break sounds good. ]
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Once inside, he ensures Kaveh takes proper steps on the steep staircase. He doesn't make the same mistake twice and he refuses to see Kaveh hurt again. The stars have other plans. One of which includes Kaveh suddenly reeling back his choice to leave Fontaine in two days. Peculiar, really. As far as he can tell, Kaveh's living situation here doesn't strike him as comfortable. What does Wriothesley know about family, though? )
Easier if you sit at the desk instead.
( He slips away from Kaveh's side quite reluctantly so he can slide over a chair for himself. It's not weird to practically be seated between his knees with Kaveh's injured foot on his leg, is it? Not unless he makes it weird. If he were anyone else, he'd be doing the same.
So now to figure out the clasps on his shoes and how they come off: he has enough high-heel experience to easily find it and remove it from him. The shoe stays on the table. As he opens up the cream, he begins to wonder why Sigewinne didn't insist on keeping Kaveh in her office. The deep thought keeps his brows creased, fingers dipping into the small jar to then apply the anti-affirmatory cream around Kaveh's ankle. He traces around his bone and behind his Achilles tendon. Eyes flicker up at him. )
If you don't have any major projects, then I can always assign you a room here. It would take you at least two hours commuting every day if you're staying in the city and then we'd also need a letter from Neuvillette permitting you to go in and out as you please. Technically the entrance is still within his jurisdiction. Oh, you probably haven't met him, he's the Iudex. I can get that done easily if you don't want to stay here with all the deadly mold and treacherous pipes... Does this hurt, by the way?
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And then Wriothesley makes some gentle jibe about the danger of the place, and Kaveh's eyes open, the crimson alight with curiosity for just a moment before a flash of annoyance takes his expression. ]
You are so—
[ But it's good-natured, at least as far as the poke of the warden's cheek would indicate, a playful jab against his scarred cheekbone, a flick of a neatly-manicured nail against the skin even as he genuinely considers the offer. In all honesty, it would make more sense to accept than not; hotels are expensive, and the travel time each day would wear on him quickly. But...
Ah. Wriothesley asked him a question. ]
It hurts, but not from you touching it, [ he says before he continues on in answer, his voice firm but friendly: ] I would need a guarantee that I'd have a room without mold. And I'd want some basic amenities too. Nothing fancy, and you can take it out of my pay if you want, but I won't live like a prisoner just to do a job. [ A pause as he tilts his head thoughtfully. ] Would I be able to leave once a week? Maybe just to get some fresh air, or maybe to go for drinks... I don't need freedom every day, but I'd like to not feel like I'm trapped here.
[ After all, it promises to be the most unique and interesting work he's taken on to date, but he doesn't want to feel like one of the prisoners kept here for breaking the laws of the land. ]
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( He can't help a raspy laugh the moment Kaveh decides to probe his finger on his cheekbone, although internally he thinks it's bold of him. Perhaps this should be the extent of their touch, even if they both end up starving.
It shouldn't be this easy testing the limits of Kaveh's patience, playful as they currently are. Anybody else could probably point out how Wriothesley's voice is so marginally flirtatious when all is said and done. This is why consciously keeps his wit at bay, fearing it might bleed from playful banter to real flirting attempts. The truth is no one can ever tell the difference.
He wipes his hands on a cloth from the nursery and begins to work the gauze around his ankle, pressing lightly to ensure it sticks properly without cutting circulation. )
Since you'll be staying here, give me a day to send out a letter to the Chief Justice and we can arrange weekly entry. That also gives me time to write up a contract for us to sign.
( Kaveh's wishes only cement the idea in his head that this would never work after all. Kaveh needs to spread his wings, he needs the fresh air and he needs all the life the surface has to offer. He rolls the bandages underneath his heel and around the frame of his foot, ripping away the end of it once it's secure. He sits back against the chair, arms crossed and proud of his work. )
I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid VIP rooms never existed in here and my room is, well, mine.
( He stands up and picks up any pieces of trash left behind, tossing them into the right bin by his desk. Something curious still itches for an answer, though. )
What do you mean by amenities?
( A pool? Personal gym? Yoga classes? Kaveh, you get food and a bed, what more else could you possibly want? )
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He falls silent again as the other sets about wrapping his ankle, explaining what he has to do next— and Kaveh nods, because everything makes sense—
Until it doesn't, and he looks up with yet another eyeroll. Didn't he just say that he doesn't need anything fancy? He's not asking for a VIP room, he just wants to be able to sleep comfortably when he's working here.
Well, if Wriothesley can tease... ]
Oh, you know, nothing too special. Round the clock room service, an on-call masseuse... [ He breaks off with a bright, amused laugh. ] I just want comfortable bedding. Warm. A bigger desk than what is usually offered— I need it for drafting. A coffee grinder wouldn't go astray. And... [ He pauses, wrinkling his nose. Honestly, this last one is possibly the most unreasonable, but he has to say it. ]
Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about being required to bathe in such a public setting.
[ His eyes drop, ostensibly focusing on his wrapped ankle as he tests it gingerly against the floor, even as he sits. ]
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( The touch is dangerous, Kaveh. A surge of splintering heat is triggered with the innocent motion on his helix piercing. He covers up the jolt with a laugh, pulling away from him and stay busy fixing papers on the other side of his desk. Wild thoughts are like cotton between his ears, tuning onto Kaveh and all his demands.
He glances at him through his peripheral, airing another laugh. )
That’s fair. You don’t have to room near any inmates. Since you’re technically working here, you can have one of the rooms our staff uses. It’s slightly warmer and more comfortable, but sorry. We don’t have a masseuse in the premises.
( He holds his words back this time, keeping his good handiwork to himself. Navia always raves about how good he is massaging the stress out of her shoulders. )
I didn’t think you were the shy type. In that case, you can use my bathroom. I can go find an extra key to my room, you sit tight while I go get it.
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He should thank him— offering a key to his personal room is a little much even for a contractor who's also a friend, he thinks— but it's another thought that goes unfinished when a vibration against his chest startles him. ]
Oh. Shit.. Your Grace—
[ He fumbles in getting the phone from its pocket in Wriothesley's jacket, fingers accidentally brushing against the screen in a way that brings up not only the message thread that has caused the phone to vibrate, but one of the previous sent messages— a video, at that.
He would recognize those hands anywhere. And that groan, low and throaty and desperate as he fucks his own grip—
Kaveh's eyes are wild. He should put the phone down; instead, trembling fingers scroll back in the conversation, and then forward, watching the white of Wriothesley's pleasure spill thick over his own abdomen, reading the text accompanying it— "all yours."— seeing the lazily smiling face of an impossibly beautiful blonde, licking her own sheen from a sex toy.
His vision is blurring.
Fuck. Fuck. He comes back to himself too late, quickly exiting the conversation and dropping the phone on the desk like it's caught fire, and before he can stop himself he's wrestling a shoe on and slipping to his feet, wincing at the way the injury wants to make his ankle give out from under him. Wriothesley's jacket is draped over the desk, his arms folded protectively over his chest.
As soon as the other re-enters the room, Kaveh makes a weak little gesture in the direction of the phone. ] You got a message. Sorry. I, um. I have to go, but. I'll come back tomorrow about the contract just— just um, tell me when.
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( It is out of the ordinary letting a contractor in the confines of his privacy. Not even Neuvillette has been in his room, and the ones who have conditions that extend the Fortress culture. He can’t always be the one visiting Navia on the surface so she makes the trip here.
Everybody needs a comfortable shower and privacy and Kaveh, as a worker, shouldn’t be subjected to all the restrictions inmates have.
He picks up the key from the front desk and walks back into his office. To his surprise, Kaveh is downstairs already, shoes on and jacket gone. This behavior is similar to someone crippled by panic— the stuttering and need for flight. He almost reaches for him to hold him back by his shoulder, but Wriothesley’s inhibition could handle war. )
I’ll go check it out, thanks. I have the key— are you in pain? We still have the rest of the tour to get through, my room included. The handles on the shower can be finicky.
( Words do fall on deaf ears. He can’t speak over Kaveh already making up his mind that this is all they both get for today. Besides, he still needs to write a contract, and run the budget numbers. Yet the way Kaveh’s voice sounds feels awry. Perhaps the Fortress is even more inappropriate for him than he expected. )
At least let me escort you back to the dock.
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He doesn't know who she is, but of course Wriothesley would go for someone like her. She's beautiful. Sexy. Her tone in text playful and sweet at the same time. Kaveh imagines that she can make him smile, bring warmth to the cold blue of his eyes. In his mind's eye he can see her splayed across his chest, fingers dancing over scars he can only imagine, sweet kisses coaxing ragged gasps from between his lips.
Fuck...
Why does he care so much? It's just a stupid fucking crush, there's no need for him to be getting this worked up over someone he already knew he couldn't have— ]
I'm fine. Sorry. I'm sorry, I just— I don't feel well. But I'm fine. I can make my way back to the dock. We can finish the tour tomorrow. Okay?
[ This time, he doesn't wait for an answer; he hurries from the room as well as he can on one good foot and one bad, hobbling more than he is walking, and it's probably frightfully obvious to Wriothesley just how not fine he is— but it doesn't matter. He just needs to be gone.
Somehow, he manages to keep the tears at bay until he's on the elevator leading back to the surface world. ]
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As he’s climbing stairs again he realizes he already is. How many months has it been, even if they only speak mostly through text. It’ll be like a missing piece once Kaveh does decide to leave Fontaine.
He’s putting on his jacket while looking down at his phone, and when he flips it over he’s met with Navia’s beautiful face. Nude and sensual. The messages are opened on their chat, and suddenly he feels sick in his stomach.
He looks back at the stairs, short of breath. It’s not like he can catch up with him, but he can’t say he’s not unbothered that Kaveh took the liberty of browsing a private conversation without his consent.
Fuck.
He sits at this desk, briskly handling papers as if they deserve his violence. Then he rubs his temples while leaning down to watch the blankness of it. He could pretend he doesn’t know, but where will that take them?
From one dead end to another?
God damn it, Kaveh. )