sempiternals | How could your heart be stolen by a human?

( It could be challenging teaching something like meditation to a person so full of thoughts. If Kaveh’s behavior is anything to go by, at least. )

I had a lot of time to find new ideas and hobbies while I was an inmate.

Come here.

( He offers his hand for Kaveh to take, ultimately leading him on top of the bed to sit crossed legged in front of one another. He’s aware he’s opening up a window to allow Kaveh to theorize about his life. He looks at him in the eye, then down to take both his hands in his. )

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

[ While he was an— To his credit, Kaveh manages to keep his expression straight, but he's admittedly a little taken aback. He's heard the rumors about Wriothesley from time to time, but most people don't like to gossip about the Duke, and confirming their veracity has been difficult.

He wonders what the other man did in the first place, how he ended up moving from inmate to lord and warden, and—

Come here, Wriothesley says, and Kaveh obeys, chasing the wondering out of his thoughts for now.

Maybe he'll be brave enough to ask later.

He moves to sit on the bed opposite the other, mimicking his pose and accepting his hands. Then, with a nod, he closes his eyes, and takes in a single, deep breath. ]

( One could pin his resume on the trajectory of fate. It weren't for the corruption he wouldn't have made certain decisions, right? Extreme, but he'll stand behind them to this day.

Kaveh's hands tie him to the moment, which is ultimately the purpose of the exercise. His hands are warm on his and admittedly, he can feel less tense about sharing moments like this with him since he's not having to hide anymore. He peeks at Kaveh to make sure his eyes are closed and smiles before closing his again. )

Now picture a blank canvas. Nothing else, and then think of the things in this room to fill it up.

Maybe it's the buzz of the lights. Or the dripping in the distance. Maybe even how cold it is. What do you like about it?

Edited 2024-01-21 06:27 (UTC)

[ A blank canvas. That's easy. He's seen many of those. And then— things in this room to fill it? That's even easier. He was just looking around it a moment ago. His architect's brain remembers where things go: the bed, the chair, the side-table, the door to the bathroom. But Wriothesley mentions sounds too, and sensations like temperature, and Kaveh finds a soft hum on his lips as they get added to the mental picture. The soft non-sound of the ocean waves around them. The rhythmic, electric buzzing of the lights. The cold— it could stand to be warmer a few degrees, and this is his canvas, so now it is. And—

What does he like? ]

The scent. [ He answers the question without thought, his eyes closed and his mind still focused on the version of this room that he's building for himself. ] I like the scent of the room. It's like... [ he chuckles ] it's like tea, but also... kinda musky, crisp like a cool winter's morning. It's refreshing, and comforting.

( He hopes meditation like this on a daily basis might help Kaveh put him in the present rather than the past, not that he's a doctor or anything. He has spoken with plenty of scholars who studied various topics from Sumeru. It did help him in the beginning, at least.

His thumb dabs over Kaveh's hand, involuntarily caressing it. He opens one eye to spy on him as he speaks, too curious about the expression on his face. The room is truly concentrated in Wriothesley. His lifestyle, his scent, the crispness of the shampoo he uses specific to compliment his masculinity, his bed sheets, his flesh.

There's a lot he needs to accomplish tonight. Like killing Mael. His eye closes. )

What else do you like? You know, like the furniture.

[ What else... honestly, the scent is the first thing he really notices, if he's honest. It wraps around him like something meant for him, something to keep him safe. But Wriothesley is seeking more than just one sense. He wants all of them, right? Another hum, as Kaveh's senses dance over the room in his mind. ]

The furniture is nice. The couch is a good size and very comfortable. There's a rug— hm, it's kind of out of place with everything else, actually... that brilliant green is more Sumerian in style than Fontaine. It's pretty by itself but it doesn't match the rest of the room—

[ Sight. ]

I like how quiet it is. There are some pipes dripping, yeah, but overall there's this feeling of just being... deep, deep down. You can feel the ocean around us more than hear it, but I imagine I can hear the water lapping against the metal out there. I used to find it scary, but there's something peaceful about it.

[ Sound. ]

( For the most part, Kaveh’s attention to detail is impeccable. Wriothesley’s smile somewhat wanes when Kaveh touches on a style no where seen in his room, thought. He even opens his eyes to glance down. It’s very much a rug he received from Neuvillette. One that was to be replaced back in the Palais Mermonia.

He thinks nothing of it now.

Every other sense Kaveh delves into is another reason why he should stay here. Proof the bird can be caged after all. )

Take a deep breath now and let the sounds and feelings wash over you. You know, as if you were sitting on a beach. Nothing else matters, just the peace of the moment.

[ Another deep breath, and Kaveh falls silent, following Wriothesley's lead again and allowing himself to sink into those sounds, those feelings, those senses, until he barely even feels the gentle hold Wriothesley has on his hands anymore, until everything around him is the room he's put together on this canvas: a tapestry of things that just a few short weeks ago seemed strange and foreign, and now serve to bring him comfort.

Like this, they wash over him, his eyes closed in gentle content, and he doesn't even realize it but there's a smile on his face as he's wrapped in the sensations, as the soft sounds and scents and images blanket him and keep him safe. ]

This is nice. [ His voice is soft and dreamy, the same as his smile. ]

( Behind his teasing, poker face, or even flattery, Wriothesley is intuitive and thinking so of course he's able to read Kaveh later this far into their friendship. Everything he describes circles back to something undeniable and tragic, and he's not alone. Wriothesley is just better at keeping to himself.

His sudden yearn to feel Kaveh's dreamy smile on his lips, for example. Or when he thinks about how Kaveh manages to hold onto his uniqueness when surrounded by the unforgiving rust within the prison. Despite all his troubles, Kaveh is resilient to the way this scent seeps into the bones of others. )

Mm. I agree. As you get better, you can choose your favorite type of blank canvas to relax or feel less stressed.

Giving an architect a blank canvas is a dangerous thing, Your Grace.

[ He may have chosen to use Wriothesley's title instead of his name, but there's a playful smile tugging at the corners of that dreamy expression that shows it's meant in jest, along with the rest of his words. In the calm, peaceful state he's in, it's easier for Kaveh to just enjoy himself, to make jokes, to be a little silly.

But he's still all-over soft and sweet and calm as he squeezes the older man's hands in his. ]

Thank you for this.

Is it? Guess I like living on the edge.
( The humor is gladly encouraged under this roof, necessary even. Besides, this also means the mental exercise might have worked, easing off the trauma of having Mael put a gash across his chest.

He squeezes Kaveh's hands in return, looking down at them. They do complement one another, both carry so many stories in them invisible to others. Kaveh is the right shade of sun-kissed despite living here a few weeks now. )

It's my pleasure. You should get some rest, Kaveh. I have some reports to fill out and get some work done. It's getting late.

[ He wants to protest, but after that mental excursion he actually is quite tired, and so he nods, another squeeze of Wriothesley's hands before he moves to get ready for bed. He remembers as he lies down that he should offer to help the other set up the mattress, at least, but the moment his head touches the pillow, he's out, lost to the world of dreams.

When he wakes from one of them in a cold sweat, the horror still resonating in his mind even as it fades, it's hours later. (How he can tell that, he's not sure, but somehow he knows, the same way he's started to learn to wake with the sun despite not being able to see it from the ocean's depths.) The room is dark, the mattress still not on the floor, and Wriothesley is nowhere to be found— the only sense of life other than himself is the thin band of light from behind the bathroom door.

It feels like he's still locked in the nightmare,

but Kaveh gets up, moves over to the metal door and presses his weight just so against it, a small rap of his knuckles. ]

Wriothesley?

( It doesn’t take long for Wriothesley to slip out into the silent hallways of the Fortress after curfew. Finding Mael isn’t difficult but it is after he’s found in his room like a good, loyal inmate that everything in Wriothesley mind numbs and phases out.

Mael’s feet struggle to keep himself up as Wriothesley drags him to a hidden area in the Fortress where nobody can hear. He’s spitting taunts at him without realizing what Wriothesley is truly capable of.

“I warned you, so now I have no choice but to personally extend your sentence here. How does forever sound?”

He adjusts a gauntlet and perks a brow up at him, joking even now despite the ugliness staining his clean streak since that fateful night. Perhaps his hands will never be clean, but he can’t allow this man to keep putting his esteemed guest at risk.

Mael’s screams are grueling when he finally realizes it, and he tries to run off between old, rusting pipes, begging, crying.

It ends quick, though. Wriothesley wouldn’t want to torment him or torture him, even if it’s what he should deserve. A sludge of blood stretches underneath Mael’s body, seeping underneath the crevasses in the soles of his boots.

“You left me no other choice. Good night.”

It takes a few hours to clean everything in the scene and dispose of his body in one of the factory furnaces.

Then he locks himself in his bathroom to finish cleaning himself and any splatter of blood left on his face or his neck. He undresses fully to shower, but he ends up sitting down on the shower floor as everything steams over.

And so, he meditates long enough until he hears Kaveh’s voice. He flinches at first, rising up and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

There was no time for Mael to struggle, so Wriothesley doesn’t look any different save for the distance in his eyes, lost once he opens the door to greet Kaveh. The recovery is steady, and it’s as though he’s once again putting on his mask. )

Did I wake you up?

[ Kaveh is confused enough that his immediate reaction to Wriothesley's question is to blink and shake his head, an admission on his lips that he'd usually make at least some attempt to hide— ] No, you didn't; I had a nightmare, that's all, [ —followed immediately by a soft, wondering question: ] You never came to bed.

[ He doesn't mean it quite as it sounds. The mattress isn't out. The room is dark, and he was alone inside it while Wriothesley sat in here, apparently in the shower

(and for a long time, if the steam billowing out into the main room has anything to say about it).

There's the look in his eyes too, something very briefly wrong that flickers and disappears as their gazes meet, continues fading into nothing at all as the moments stretch. But Kaveh wouldn't be who is is if he didn't worry about everything all the time, and so after a moment he puts a single, cautious hand on the other's forearm. ]

Is something wrong? Are you... is everything alright?

[ His voice, still mostly asleep, is edged with gentle concern as he blinks up at the other. ]

What kind of nightmare?

( He could use the distraction as he stands there dripping in the water and letting steam out into the bedroom. His hands feel heavy and cold despite that, and even the scars on his neck feel tender and sore. Just like the wounds from that night as he laid handcuffed to the hospital bed. )

I was catching up on some work, that’s all. I lost track of the time.

( He can’t stop himself from what’s to come. If Kaveh leaves him when the truth ultimately comes out because he knows it always will.

Perhaps this would be the last time he can hold onto him while Kaveh has the best idea of Wriothesley in his head. So he glances down as Kaveh touches him, then he loops his arms over his shoulder for a hug. He’s careful with him and his wound, applying enough pressure so he can hide his face from him. )

Let me get dressed, then we can sleep all day. How’s that sound?

[ He shakes his head. ]

I don't wanna talk about it. [ That gruesome, mocking face echoes in his mind, and he shakes it off, trying to focus on the other man and not on those images that won't leave him alone. ] It's over now anyway.

[ More than he even realizes.

What comes next though makes him yelp, start to laugh despite the somber mood souring the air around and between the two of them. ]

Wriothesley! You're dripping on me!

[ But he doesn't pull away; instead, he wraps both arms around him in turn, pressing his face into the older man's chest and just breathing him in, allowing that presence to calm him, to chase the last remnants of the dream from his mind. ]

Mm... all day, huh? I'd like that a lot. [ A pause, a short exhale of breath against the other's skin. ] ...Will you share the bed with me again? Just— like this?

( He doesn’t press him for the details, instead he keeps a steady hold on him as his gaze is lost further out into the large window and past the ship in the distance. Kaveh feels warm against his body cooling between the edge of steam and the iciness of the metal floor below their feet.

He manages to get a low laugh under his breath, tilting his chin into Kaveh’s neck in a bit of a crouch. His eyes close peacefully despite the haunting era that is about to dawn on him.

Kaveh’s breathing is sweet against his wet chest, and the idea of clothes suddenly feel distant, too. He could just wear Kaveh and smother him as he, too, chases off the sound of Mael begging for life. )

Sounds good to me.

( He pulls back to look down into his eyes, before he slips past him. A trail of wet footprints is left across his room and on the circular rug until he slips carefully into his bed. He adjusts slightly to ensure the towel stays wrapped around his waist.

Sure, he’s awake he’s enabling Kaveh to go back against his own word, breaking off the boundary previously set. But to sleep next to him like this, tangling their legs and inching closer than ever is the dream he’s in need of. )

Is this alright with you?

[ It's something he shouldn't have asked for, especially when he was the one who so explicitly asked for boundaries to be laid out between them while he's staying here. But between the entrapment of his own dream, the strangeness of this particular moment, and the feeling of the other's strong arms around him, Wriothesley's chin tucked into the side of his neck, it seemed impossible for him to do anything else.

And so he smiles up at the other man when he pulls back, turns to pad across the floor, and maybe he's horrified at the way Wriothesley just climbs straight into bed, wet and all, but he climbs in to join him anyway, pressing immediately into his warmth. ]

It's alright, but you know we're both going to catch a cold, [ he points out with a low, soft laugh, resting his head against the other's clavicle— and if there's a sigh of content on Kaveh's lips, he'll deny it anyway. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to get sick and be stuck in bed with him even longer.

Truth be told, as much as he trusts Wriothesley to take care of the situation with Mael, there's part of him afraid to leave the other's circle of protection again. The man attempted to kill him, after all. What comes after that?

He shudders, and presses in a little closer. ]

( The Fortress holds many secrets and even more bodies, although all those who pass are bound to be met by scorching flames. There is no extra space to hold onto bones. It is no surprise the underworld ends up swallowing all those who end up meeting their end here.

Kaveh helps him warm up underneath the covers. His lithe frame is everything he wants at this moment. Mael never deserved him and now he will never have him. He sighs as his arm reaches around Kaveh, shifting his body so he can comfortably bury his face against his chest.

Part of him can only hope for a chance to spend their nights like this. Surely, Kaveh realizes he's going back on his word. What a difficult man he is, even though admittedly, Wriothesley might be on the other end of the scale. Yet when they're together like this it makes sense.

Kaveh presses closer and so does he. The towel is already undone from his hip, clinging around him by a miracle. Not that he cares if Kaveh were to see him anyway.

He wakes up facing up, with an arm still loosely around Kaveh and very much numb. He stares at his ceiling for a moment, staring at every single bolt holding the stabs of metal together. It feels quiet like a new beginning, but he's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. When you're Wriothesley, you tend to question everything. He keeps the covers over his cock since the towel is lost through the sheets, and angles himself to watch over Kaveh. )

Kaveh.

[ The night passes quicker than before, without nightmares to continue haunting him now that he has an arm snug around him, holding him close, a chest to press his face into as he breathes in sync with a heartbeat. He shouldn't be allowing himself to take so much comfort from this, especially when he was the one to lay down the boundaries he has since voluntarily shattered, but he can't quite help himself-

how could he ever help himself, when it comes to the other man?

If he dreams again, it's pleasant, but it doesn't linger, doesn't drag itself into his reality the way it did last time; a deep voice says his name and stirs him from slumber, eyes opening, blinking sleepily up at the man whose bed in which he remains curled up. And he smiles, something small and tired and questioning, because weren't they going to sleep all day? ]

Hi. [ He offers Wriothesley his greeting in a voice lazy with his sleepiness, and then nuzzles back into the pillow, not willing to be fully awake just yet. It's hard to tell the time down this deep, he thinks; maybe they have slept all day.

He doubts it, but maybe that's just wishful thinking wanting to keep him in bed. ]

I guess I was wrong about you making us sick by refusing to dry yourself.

( Kaveh is graceful when he’s in a slumber and a dream when he’s awake. Waking up beside him might be anybody’s wish. His eyelashes are long, his skin is taken care of— that or it might be because he’s so much younger. Whatever the case, he’s still unsure how to transcend trust and confess everything to him. )

You never asked me to dry myself. Hm?

( He offers a smirk and inches closer, peeking down at the wraps on his chest. It was the reason for waking him. )

I can get the shower going for you. We have to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected. In a place like this, it can happen quicker than in the surface.

And…

( He rustles a strand of hair back from his face, then caresses down his cheek using the back of his fingers. His hands can be capable of so much violence and so much tenderness. He pauses then, pulling back as if he’d just touched a scorching flame. His knuckles are perpetually bruised by now. )

Can’t forget the tea, either.

[ Oh, no.

Kaveh decides in a single moment that he would like to complain strongly to whichever past version of himself decided that he and Wriothesley should end up here, in this exact place at this exact time. Because waking up to a smirking, teasing His Grace, while certainly nice, is not exactly ideal for his mental health. ]

...Stupid— [ is his Highly Intelligent response in the end, and he's still processing how utterly ridiculous he just sounded when a gentle hand smooths back a strand of his hair, strokes down his cheek, and for a moment he thinks Wriothesley is going to kiss him, but he jerks away like Kaveh is aflame and makes a comment about tea instead, and all the blonde can do is blink and chew on his lower lip.

It's so clear to him now that the other man wants them to go further, but he remains trapped in whatever it is he's allowed to hold him back this whole time. Kaveh's heart aches for it, for him— and yet he also knows there's nothing he can do. Only Wriothesley can make that choice. ]

Mm, right. The tea. Okay— I'm getting up—

[ But he stops as quickly as he starts to move, because the act of doing so brings to light a problem of which he was previously unaware. Color highlights his cheeks, and he reaches to pull the covers a little more safely over him as his eyes dart away. ]

On second thought I... uh, I might need a moment.

Hm?
( Despite having offered him the tea, or shower, Wriothesley remains comfortably beside him in full admiration. He can only imagine how much more of a glow he would give out underneath the morning sun instead of here, where he still manages to shine through the Fortress opacity.

Kaveh doesn't have to go into much detail for Wriothesley to pick up on his predicament. He knows what it's like waking up with heaviness between the legs. The temptation is swarming through his mind as Kaveh lifts the sheets shyly and looks away.

He's unsure where to begin. He has never pursued a man like this, even if there's a high chance Kaveh won't push him off, Wriothesley doesn't want to mess things up. Not when disaster is bound to meet them in the end. )

You're not in pain, are you?

( Is a question that's more or less gauging how far he could take it. Wriothesley inches closer to him, then reaches across the other side of Kaveh's pillow to bracket his face between his arms. Piercing blues hold so much fire and uncertainty, but he fears this is his only chance that's left. )

Kaveh, can I kiss you?

[ For a moment, Wriothesley's question is met with little more than confusion; Kaveh's eyes meet his again as the other's arms move to bracket him, and he blinks in what feels like slow motion as he shakes his head in response to the first question. There is some pain, stinging its way across his chest wherever there are angry red cut lines, but it's nothing at all when considered alongside the wavering, uncertain fire burning in those ice-cold eyes, alongside the next question from those stern lips.

Kaveh's heart is trembling. (His cock, ignorant of the dilemma, practically twitches with its own answer.) He chews at his lower lip, soothes the bite with his tongue, takes a breath, because he wants this, he wants it so badly, but—

It's okay, he tells himself. Want is okay, as long as he doesn't hope. If he doesn't hope, he can't get himself hurt all over again.

So after a moment of hesitation, a moment of thought, a moment where he considers answering by initiating the kiss himself and then another where he decides to use his words instead, he smiles, a hand coming up to skim over the other man's cheek, to thumb at the scar under his eye. ]

Yeah. [ His voice is barely more than a whisper. ] You can kiss me.

( He feels the rush of heat between his ears, every nerve flashing and terrified of the answer to come. The last and only other time they shared a kiss followed them with nothing but regret. Yet here he is, sober and dazed by the beauty of Kaveh without any screen or excuse.

As Kaveh kisses for an answer, Wriothesley slides his hand up one of his thighs to grasp and feel between his legs. He palms his cock easily as he presses their lips together again, his eyes involuntarily close as Kaveh traces his scar.

He searches for the hem of his pants, eager to tuck his fingers in them to pull the fabric over his length, freeing him entirely. Of course, they still have a layer of sheets to soft land the exposure just in case.

The way he looks at him when he pulls away from his lips is kind of miserable. A shiny coat of their saliva coats his bottom lip as he searches his eyes.

He holds his gaze feverishly, briefly looking down at his chest to make sure the bandage hasn’t budged. He’s wedging his pants down, trailing his finger from side to side as they slide underneath his body, past his thighs. )

The tea can wait, right?

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