Private Trouble at the gate [M]
- Thread starter Laric
- Start date
"Blood sacrifice," Walter echoed. "Prey of the hunt in offering."
He straightened up, walked around Laric to land on the divan, and kicked off the house shoes, stretching his feet to the bear pelt on the floor. Nudged Laric's thigh lightly, just fooling about.
"Don't know about the creatures of legend, but some men like being restrained. They find it a freeing experience in regards to feeling responsible for what comes next, if for a little while," he mused. "Then I've heard some men like a dash of risk in their amorous diet, little games of keeping a known secret, and being quiet. What kind of things do you like, tomcat?"
He straightened up, walked around Laric to land on the divan, and kicked off the house shoes, stretching his feet to the bear pelt on the floor. Nudged Laric's thigh lightly, just fooling about.
"Don't know about the creatures of legend, but some men like being restrained. They find it a freeing experience in regards to feeling responsible for what comes next, if for a little while," he mused. "Then I've heard some men like a dash of risk in their amorous diet, little games of keeping a known secret, and being quiet. What kind of things do you like, tomcat?"
"I think... A certain internal limit," Walter mused. While his legs were still clothed, he didn't seem to mind the touch. "Those kinds of creatures understand that symbols are power, tomcat. And they might be stronger for upholding the symbols that made them, which is why the offering is blood and prey. Hunters, warriors, seek their like in between thing and man."
The blond slowly moving to between his legs prompted a wrap of fingers under the chin.
"Sacrifices, sweet? What kind do you prefer, then, blood or grain?" There was humor in his voice, but query serious. One might like to be of service, but they couldn't be without a preference to what would be done to themselves.
The blond slowly moving to between his legs prompted a wrap of fingers under the chin.
"Sacrifices, sweet? What kind do you prefer, then, blood or grain?" There was humor in his voice, but query serious. One might like to be of service, but they couldn't be without a preference to what would be done to themselves.
Last edited:
He let Laric hide the face. Fingers dove into the golden locks, stroked the shoulders, brushed against the nape of the neck. Walter's form relaxed, allowing the other to melt into himself as much as he'd like even from the floor.
"My fangs can wound if I were to bite you," he sighed, passing strands between his fingers. "If you could recover damage to the flesh, I would, for your enjoyment." A tender stroke behind the ear.
He pondered as Laric retreated, and smiled.
"Somewhat. And where it doesn't answer... I don't want you sacrificing yourself, hurting for my sake. It does not please me, that sort of thing. Ask me to stop, and I will stop. Ask me to be gentler, and I will soften the touch. Understood?"
Leaning over, he found the blond's forehead with his lips. A tender, symbolic kiss.
And quiet laughter.
"Patience. I have only just reclined. So full of avarice, my dear. The desk also needs tidied..." A sigh, playfully trying to trap Laric close with his legs alone.
"My fangs can wound if I were to bite you," he sighed, passing strands between his fingers. "If you could recover damage to the flesh, I would, for your enjoyment." A tender stroke behind the ear.
He pondered as Laric retreated, and smiled.
"Somewhat. And where it doesn't answer... I don't want you sacrificing yourself, hurting for my sake. It does not please me, that sort of thing. Ask me to stop, and I will stop. Ask me to be gentler, and I will soften the touch. Understood?"
Leaning over, he found the blond's forehead with his lips. A tender, symbolic kiss.
And quiet laughter.
"Patience. I have only just reclined. So full of avarice, my dear. The desk also needs tidied..." A sigh, playfully trying to trap Laric close with his legs alone.
Last edited:
Walter's eyes sunk closed. He shifted around, adjusting to the weight.
"I... don't know. There's quite a bit I could tell, much less that I would, to spare you the macabre. I don't doubt you've seen your fair share."
He was quiet for a while.
"After I changed, I once partook in a ritual that involved swimming in the sea during a storm. A custom of the people I was traveling alongside, long story short. It involved preparations... waves get so violent, so tall, you don't swim in an ocean like that without a blessing or a guardian or a few potions, all three might not be enough. I... felt something, in those depths. Maybe it was just delirium brought on by exhaustion, it... saw me. Scrutinized me, almost. Later, when another storm threw me overboard, I washed ashore. The ship I sailed on did not sink, but they did think me dead, they were... far closer to the ocean in their nature than I. Taught me to value my own nature some, if nothing else."
His gaze grew as distant as the receding roll of thunder. The rain kept on, less violently now. Walter knew it would keep for at least half a day more. He fell quiet, stroking Laric's back in an idly wrapped embrace, as thoughts wandered.
"I used to play the violin. Still do, but not with anyone in sight - unwieldy with the glove on, you see." he murmured. "I also don't lounge about like this every day. Usually there are things to do, and I keep busy getting them done. There's been an almost unbelievable progress with Bremen in half a year, I'm rather proud of the results. Tired out of my mind, too, but glad for the growing fortunes. What else... I've hunted shroud fiends, more than once. Different ones. Depending on the aspects, their parts and body fluids are potent components in alchemy. I won't go into detail, given you say you aren't too invested in the field."
Another quiet. He shifted the posture slightly, again, getting more comfortable, wrapped an arm around the corner of the divan, and stared into the fire, before the head lolled back, and he was staring at the ceiling.
"I remember wishing I could marry someone with ambition, someone who knew themselves in the world, and could rescue me from being alone at social events where my presence is required... not Lettie, I think it goes without saying. Never came to pass, of course, not what the Thornleys do, marrying for love. There was once a person who tried to be a second me in his pursuit of me... I found it eerie, and I've seen eerie. Something... dreadfully hollow, there was, in that man. Something awfully shallow past the pleasantries. He worshipped the idea of me that he knew before my change, and we crossed paths later. I hope to never again run into him. Hm, probably not the brightest of topics... that about enough soliloquy, perhaps?"
A chuckle.
"My back is getting sore, sweet, would you kindly sit up for a spell."
"I... don't know. There's quite a bit I could tell, much less that I would, to spare you the macabre. I don't doubt you've seen your fair share."
He was quiet for a while.
"After I changed, I once partook in a ritual that involved swimming in the sea during a storm. A custom of the people I was traveling alongside, long story short. It involved preparations... waves get so violent, so tall, you don't swim in an ocean like that without a blessing or a guardian or a few potions, all three might not be enough. I... felt something, in those depths. Maybe it was just delirium brought on by exhaustion, it... saw me. Scrutinized me, almost. Later, when another storm threw me overboard, I washed ashore. The ship I sailed on did not sink, but they did think me dead, they were... far closer to the ocean in their nature than I. Taught me to value my own nature some, if nothing else."
His gaze grew as distant as the receding roll of thunder. The rain kept on, less violently now. Walter knew it would keep for at least half a day more. He fell quiet, stroking Laric's back in an idly wrapped embrace, as thoughts wandered.
"I used to play the violin. Still do, but not with anyone in sight - unwieldy with the glove on, you see." he murmured. "I also don't lounge about like this every day. Usually there are things to do, and I keep busy getting them done. There's been an almost unbelievable progress with Bremen in half a year, I'm rather proud of the results. Tired out of my mind, too, but glad for the growing fortunes. What else... I've hunted shroud fiends, more than once. Different ones. Depending on the aspects, their parts and body fluids are potent components in alchemy. I won't go into detail, given you say you aren't too invested in the field."
Another quiet. He shifted the posture slightly, again, getting more comfortable, wrapped an arm around the corner of the divan, and stared into the fire, before the head lolled back, and he was staring at the ceiling.
"I remember wishing I could marry someone with ambition, someone who knew themselves in the world, and could rescue me from being alone at social events where my presence is required... not Lettie, I think it goes without saying. Never came to pass, of course, not what the Thornleys do, marrying for love. There was once a person who tried to be a second me in his pursuit of me... I found it eerie, and I've seen eerie. Something... dreadfully hollow, there was, in that man. Something awfully shallow past the pleasantries. He worshipped the idea of me that he knew before my change, and we crossed paths later. I hope to never again run into him. Hm, probably not the brightest of topics... that about enough soliloquy, perhaps?"
A chuckle.
"My back is getting sore, sweet, would you kindly sit up for a spell."
"I might write memoirs, someday," Walter chuckled. "But then, every time I think about this, I think I shouldn't. It's just a life. People should strive to fill their own, best that they can. I've seen... So much death. Life is so short."
He tracked a hand around Laric's waist at the departure, though instead of sitting up next to him the man chose to return to a separate spot.
"Of course I'd let you, so long as you would figure something out so I- just so I am separated from sight, but the sound can travel to you. Maybe something with the screens?"
He stood, and started stretching, upwards and to the sides, rolling his shoulders,a bit restless, it felt like. Perhaps, wary of getting drowsy before their evening plans.
"It's not," he echoed the sentiment. "And I hope that sparks of warmth and comfort will be love, with time and patience."
At the question of the cherries, he smiled.
"Won't have to go far. They are beside my bed, asked for them to get brought in when we parted ways. Get yourself some of that tea before it gets cold. I sense ginger root and such in there, must have been brewed to ward off colds."
Laric was a man grown, of course, but lounging habits and playing kissing games in cold empty buildings, who knows what else they'd get to before long without much regard for anything but each other... A bit of herbs wouldn't hurt to keep him a touch safer, even if it would label Walter a worrywart.
He tracked a hand around Laric's waist at the departure, though instead of sitting up next to him the man chose to return to a separate spot.
"Of course I'd let you, so long as you would figure something out so I- just so I am separated from sight, but the sound can travel to you. Maybe something with the screens?"
He stood, and started stretching, upwards and to the sides, rolling his shoulders,a bit restless, it felt like. Perhaps, wary of getting drowsy before their evening plans.
"It's not," he echoed the sentiment. "And I hope that sparks of warmth and comfort will be love, with time and patience."
At the question of the cherries, he smiled.
"Won't have to go far. They are beside my bed, asked for them to get brought in when we parted ways. Get yourself some of that tea before it gets cold. I sense ginger root and such in there, must have been brewed to ward off colds."
Laric was a man grown, of course, but lounging habits and playing kissing games in cold empty buildings, who knows what else they'd get to before long without much regard for anything but each other... A bit of herbs wouldn't hurt to keep him a touch safer, even if it would label Walter a worrywart.
"I'm not used to cuddling, but I am used to being on my feet," Walter echoed. "Good point. I should... organize research, and go visit my house guard, see to morale."
Restless. Like someone who wasn't used to being home, having free time, being without a mountain of things to do. It was hard for him to simply settle before the afternoon passed, and do nothing at all.
"And then..."
He passed closer to Laric, nuzzled at his shoulder.
"I have a mission for you, tomcat. Make it cozy? I'm not particularly good at relaxing, you've seen me. Easier to take reign, even at a cost to myself. Once I make sure nobody and nothing short of an awakened calamity will disturb us here, I'll head right back."
Probably as restless as he was now.
Restless. Like someone who wasn't used to being home, having free time, being without a mountain of things to do. It was hard for him to simply settle before the afternoon passed, and do nothing at all.
"And then..."
He passed closer to Laric, nuzzled at his shoulder.
"I have a mission for you, tomcat. Make it cozy? I'm not particularly good at relaxing, you've seen me. Easier to take reign, even at a cost to myself. Once I make sure nobody and nothing short of an awakened calamity will disturb us here, I'll head right back."
Probably as restless as he was now.
With a quiet agreement, Walter's features lightened. Nevermind his eyelids sinking low at the move along his spine. He thought too much about those hands, and more, against his bare skin.
*
Incidentally, the first servant around was that made - Josephine?.. - that came to call them down for breakfast and completely disregarded Walter toppled onto Laric's bed and Laric making a neutral mien about it all. She was perfectly polite, and yet the twinkle in those eyes spoke of a curiosity that would befit a cat.
Anthea, on the other hand, took the instructions graciously. No wonder - she was an old matron, and had seen several generations frolic about. "Young lord is so thoughtful and caring of our baron's health. Of course, I will have everything in the room within the hour," she bowed. Plausible deniability was the name of the game, and only those privy to the household's secrets would know why it factored in.
And it had nothing to do with the vast majority of the polite society.
*
"You will pull through," Walter frowned. "I'll send someone to pick up the drakehorse duty while you recover, don't you worry."
"I promised to show Illyn's girl the little spawn... would be good time for her to start learning."
"It will wait. Everything will wait."
Minutes later, he was in the art room. Stared at the fiddle in the case, almost absently. Heard Laric talking to Anthea, some way down the hallway. Stared at his own gloved hand, mummy-like withered digits still moving smoothly as if it was whole. But it wasn't. It was no longer a mess of missing bits, snapped ligaments and bones knit wrong... but it wasn't like it used to be, either, dark grey-purple skin wrapping around bone with little muscle. Every time he removed it, the visions of how it came to be hemorrhaged panic, pain and despair into his mind.
The stars aligned, no moons in the sky; pierced, crushed and carved until he was dry; and once the damage was truly done - left to bleed out under blinding sun.
Sometimes he hated his knack for rhyming. It made him remember better. How would he ever move forward with this?..
He returned to his room with a book. Not one bound too heavily, or looking too menacing. The cover of the bind was blue fabric, with waves and a silver mountain painted throughout, birds and clouds in the sky. 'Journeys to Behold', the title read. A travelling compendium, what could be considered 'light reading' for them both, describing the most beautiful places of renown and vistas in Ilica. Laric hadn't returned yet, and so he'd left the book atop a chest of drawers, and doubled back to catch Laric headed down the hallway. Walter walked toward, idle mischief becoming apparent when his arm wrapped around Laric and pulled him into an alcove half-way. Another hand shot up, pulled him down to tease a kiss so deceptively soft against those lips.
"Tomcat," came a very pleased whisper, smile in the tone, in the dark glint of the eyes. Without looking, Walter unhooked the woven loop and a drape fell mostly closed over the tiny space, leaving a hand's width of view to the hallway. Intentional, if anything, clearly endangering the both of them should they linger. "Such a pleasant sight of you. Up to good?" In no hurry to leave, his weight pressing the other into a curved wall, gloved fingers gently tucking an unruly golden lock behind Laric's ear and stroking down the neck as they went.
*
Incidentally, the first servant around was that made - Josephine?.. - that came to call them down for breakfast and completely disregarded Walter toppled onto Laric's bed and Laric making a neutral mien about it all. She was perfectly polite, and yet the twinkle in those eyes spoke of a curiosity that would befit a cat.
Anthea, on the other hand, took the instructions graciously. No wonder - she was an old matron, and had seen several generations frolic about. "Young lord is so thoughtful and caring of our baron's health. Of course, I will have everything in the room within the hour," she bowed. Plausible deniability was the name of the game, and only those privy to the household's secrets would know why it factored in.
And it had nothing to do with the vast majority of the polite society.
*
"You will pull through," Walter frowned. "I'll send someone to pick up the drakehorse duty while you recover, don't you worry."
"I promised to show Illyn's girl the little spawn... would be good time for her to start learning."
"It will wait. Everything will wait."
Minutes later, he was in the art room. Stared at the fiddle in the case, almost absently. Heard Laric talking to Anthea, some way down the hallway. Stared at his own gloved hand, mummy-like withered digits still moving smoothly as if it was whole. But it wasn't. It was no longer a mess of missing bits, snapped ligaments and bones knit wrong... but it wasn't like it used to be, either, dark grey-purple skin wrapping around bone with little muscle. Every time he removed it, the visions of how it came to be hemorrhaged panic, pain and despair into his mind.
The stars aligned, no moons in the sky; pierced, crushed and carved until he was dry; and once the damage was truly done - left to bleed out under blinding sun.
Sometimes he hated his knack for rhyming. It made him remember better. How would he ever move forward with this?..
He returned to his room with a book. Not one bound too heavily, or looking too menacing. The cover of the bind was blue fabric, with waves and a silver mountain painted throughout, birds and clouds in the sky. 'Journeys to Behold', the title read. A travelling compendium, what could be considered 'light reading' for them both, describing the most beautiful places of renown and vistas in Ilica. Laric hadn't returned yet, and so he'd left the book atop a chest of drawers, and doubled back to catch Laric headed down the hallway. Walter walked toward, idle mischief becoming apparent when his arm wrapped around Laric and pulled him into an alcove half-way. Another hand shot up, pulled him down to tease a kiss so deceptively soft against those lips.
"Tomcat," came a very pleased whisper, smile in the tone, in the dark glint of the eyes. Without looking, Walter unhooked the woven loop and a drape fell mostly closed over the tiny space, leaving a hand's width of view to the hallway. Intentional, if anything, clearly endangering the both of them should they linger. "Such a pleasant sight of you. Up to good?" In no hurry to leave, his weight pressing the other into a curved wall, gloved fingers gently tucking an unruly golden lock behind Laric's ear and stroking down the neck as they went.