[Whatever anger Eridanus had managed to stifle by name alone was exposed as Lucius jumped at the opportunity to sermonize his war-father. His grasp on the other's arm had been weak, the flesh slipping through his claws, yet where it fell to the couch, deadly points pierce into the cushion with murderous intent. His face reddens, as the disconnect between their experiences is filled with the gospelizing void-priests of Vathea. To Eridanus, this in the same vein as the cultists who would herald the end times of Old Gods, and the demonic proselytizers of the king of demons himself.
The way he exhales the breath he held is like dragon-fire poured past his lips, smoke pluming from the hot furnace of his rage-gripped heart, stoked by the coals of Lucius' wordsātheir embers licking at his skin. Sick thoughts of abandonment fill Eridanus' mind, of Rosefica leaving him, and if given the opportunity, Lucius too. The cesspit that opens within him is cavenous, bottomless, and thirsty. Like the fluttering of wings, selfish ideas pass through his mindāthe desire to entrap Lucius in the void of his heart clawing eager and torturous at his limbs.
Yet, it is one lone thought, one lone idea that manages to stay him from lunging at Lucius like a rabid animal. His grip on the seat cushion loosens, and he brings that wine glass, shaking in his hand, to his lips for a taste. There is a look of smug satisfaction that captures him, as he grins impishly up at Lucius.]
All his power and he's yet to come rescue you from this place? I wonder if he even notices you are gone? [His words are haughty, and he can feel the umbral talons of avaricion dig into his weak flesh.] Perhaps he's replaced you with some new toy. A shame that you are stuck in Ryslig, with no manner to contest your place in beloved Fulgrim's heart.
Have I not just said? He has turned his sights to far more important things than tending me. [ And yet, Eridanus' words do touch on the space within Lucius' mind where his scant few insecurities lie buried, stubbornly unexamined lest they be made real by their acknowledgement. It is not Fulgrim's abandonment that haunts that untouched space, however, but that of Slaanesh. The barb manages to cool his fevered blood without provoking the cold fury Eridanus' last disrespect had earned him, and Lucius' lunatic smile shrinks to something that is sly in kind. ] But not to worry ā that any one of my brothers is capable of replacing me is not something I fear.
[ The inside of his head still pounds, and as he pads back toward the couch, there is something that would nearly be a drunken sway to his step, if not for how sure-footed every stride seems to be regardless. ]
I wonder, how long as it been since I've felt his touch? [ The question is plainly rhetorical, and he laughs at it. A second later, he drains the rest of the wine from his glass, and, heedless of its fragility or the remnants of the wine still pooled within its basin, he tosses it aside. ] Eridanus, this jealousy is unbecoming of you. You are special to me. Do you think even Fulgrim loves me so deeply that he wishes for us to be joined together for all time?
[ Standing before Eridanus, Lucius splays both hands at his hips. It's an invitation, but for what is for Eridanus to decide. ]
[Suspicion knots Eridanus' brow as the manic edge of Lucius' demeanor seems to have cooled all too quickly. He had intended for his words to be a sharp jab, yet here he sat, completely unabated and unsatisfied with how his transgression had been waved aside like a buzzing fly. Perhaps there was a small part of him that sought punishment from Lucius' hands, to be made to feel and wish as if his flesh was being sundered apart in the wake of his shortcomings. He is sure that were he to simply ask, that the divine pleasure of agony interlaced with ecstasy would be lovingly gifted to him. Yet even as the heady influence of the coca wine coursed through his veins, he knew that pride would be the collar that would hold him back.
And he was not yet ready to fully hand the leash over.]
Jealousy, greed, obsession... [He breathes the words like noxious fumes, before taking a long, indulgent drink. Just as Lucius did, he finishes every last drop, before carelessly tossing the glass aside.] These are the traits that drew you to me, traits you saw promise in, that could be cultivated in the image of your god.
[With the explosive force of an erupting volcano, Eridanus leaps from the couch, only to come nose to nose with Lucius. Those words of specialness and love are like molten hot pokers to his open wounds, and act as the cattle prods that have his claws snapping around the shorter man's throat. He wants to say moreāabout how that senseless oath that had dripped like honey from his lips in a moment of passion, was the crack that birthed a chasm of darkness between he and his wife. The sense that he has been ignoring, intentionally or not, is screaming to rescind his oath.
Yet as his viridescent gaze, alight with fury, stares into the slitting golden orbs before it, he finds his words stuck in his throat. His opalite grasp is squeezing, his muscles taut with killing intent, but he doesn't crush the fragile meat and cartilage. Weakness takes him, like the swelling of a storm come to culmination, he pulls Lucius' mouth into his own. His breath is hot and heavy, the tangy scent of coca wine flavoring it, as desperation grips him even more tightly, and its as if he's being eaten alive by it.
Carelessness would have it that the sharp opal of his tusks would leave behind shallow cuts against Lucius' lips, but they matter not in Eridanus' mind as a quiet sob breaks their kiss. Stinging tears threaten the corners of his eyes, but they have yet to fall. The only notion of his sorrow manifested in the gentle shake of his shoulders and the loosening of his grip on Lucius' neck.]
[ It's something Lucius has wondered about in idle passing before: if Eridanus would enjoy having his hands around Lucius' throat as much of the reverse. But, even as Lucius tips his chin up in Eridanus' grasp as if inviting him to wring his neck, he can see that this isn't the kind of thought running through his mind. A shiver of danger ghosts across his skin, and he wonders if Eridanus finally intends to put all that superior strength to use in a way he can't resist.
The thought is like poisoned wine: it sits bitter in his mouth, and yet he cannot stop drinking of it, letting its flavor pour down his throat until it floods his flesh down to the tips of his fingers and toes. It tempts him to struggle, simply to know how it feels to be powerless and overpowered by a man he scarcely reaches the chin ofābut then Eridanus pulls him up to crush their mouths together, and Lucius can't help the noise that escapes him, a low, amused whine lost among the sounds of heated breath and lips drawing at slick lips. His own hands come up, and suddenly, he is irritated with all this cloth Eridanus is wearing, no flesh left bare for Lucius and his claws to tear into in his passion.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it glistening on his lips, when their mouths hitch apart again. His spiny, catlike tongue runs across his lips to clean them, and it's as good a way as any to hide that he isn't quite sure what kind of expression he should be making at first. Tearful eyes, like that strange breakdown in their shared dream, aren't something it has been Lucius' responsibility to deal with very often, and particularly not from a man he realizes he has foolishly begun to think of as something of a peer. ]
And what have you done, dear Eridanus? [ The end result is a bemused expression on Lucius' face, his eyebrows arched in confusion that isn't wholly dishonest. His fingers come up, gently pressing themselves over Eridanus' lips so he may speak without interruption. ] You never made the choice to part with your wife ā she threw you out, over something that made no difference to your love for her.
[It's the finger at his lips that grounds Eridanus, and keeps him from completely exploding into the geyser of emotions that Lucius is no doubt unprepared for. Light bless him, for he had more patience than Eridanus would have ever expected of him, and were he in the right frame of mind he likely would have appreciated it far more. Instead, the attempt at reason is met with knife-sharp claws and the dangerous edges of them that threaten Lucius' flesh yet as he pushes him back by the shoulders.]
You don't understand it is different, weā [A hitching breath interrupts him, and like the wilting leaves of a dying plant, his ears and shoulders wither.] We had an agreement, that I would tell her about these things, and then I did the opposite... she is furious for my lying, Lucius.
[It's unconscious the way his talons dig into cloth and skin, his emotions leaving him unrestrained and unthinking of their risk. His eyes are desperate as they search Lucius' confused expression, as if trying to find answers that he could grasp for in those knotted brows and slim smile. The guilt that eats his conscious, goading his imagination into vivid coca-fueled imagery of a grieving Rosefica, also selfishly seek forgiveness in Luciusāas if it were even his place to gift it.]
How am I to fix this? [A foolish question, for he already knows the answer. He knows that Rosefica will expect him to cut off their burgeoning relationship, denounce Lucius' stake in his eternity, and claim Rosefica as his one and only. It's selfishness that keeps him from admitting it to himself, and instead his denial tenses his arms rigid once more.] Should I... even fix this?
[ Irritation flashes through Lucius, twisting his mouth and laying his ears flat. His shoulders tense under those grasping hands, prepared to toss them off, already sick of being manhandled as if he has done anything wrong. What stops him is the same part of his head that had held his tongue against insulting Rosefica, just a few minutes earlier. ]
And so she tossed aside your companionship for a single transgression? [ Instead, he channels the feeling into sounding righteously indignant. Lucius, on the other hand, has no delusions about what it will mean for Eridanus to return to Rosefica's handāand never has he been a man to allow the pleasure right in front of him to be stolen by another. ] You'll fix things, in time ā when she realizes her own foolishness. Go running back to her right away, and she'll know she can demand whatever she pleases of you. She'll collar you, and control where it is you can go and who it is you can see.
[ He brings a hand to Eridanus' wrist, making a gentle attempt to pry the hand free. ]
Instead, let her realize she is every bit as miserable without you. Maybe that will make her more understanding.
[Like a soothing balm, Lucius' words provide the sweet benediction Eridanus is searching for. As if a full-bodied sigh had escaped him, Eridanus relaxes and pats those tensing shoulders beneath his hands. The worry that had tightened his visage melts away, and is instead replaced with a wide smile that touched even the wrinkling corners of his eyes.]
You are right... [His tone is soft, sweet even, as the misplaced answers he had sought were so willingly given to him.] I have never committed such a wrongdoing before, and you would think there would be even an ounce of respect for that? This is a misunderstanding... yes... a misunderstanding.
[Eridanus' talons slide away from Lucius' shoulders, and he leans down only briefly to peck at the man's forehead, as if admitting thanks for his guidance to clarity. Whether this was genuine belief, or the final nail in the coffin of his shattered mind, Eridanus is far from caring. What makes that runty tail of his swing back and forth is that he is free from the weight of his sins, if only for a moment.]
She would not allow me my freedom, and that won't do! A collar and leash is necessary for guidance, not control. [He turns away from Lucius, bending at the hip to grab the bottle of coca wine and indulge in its intoxication. He tips the mouth of the bottle to his lips and takes a few deep gulfs before handing it to Lucius,] I need to be free, yes... I need to be allowed to follow these desires, I won't be allowed to ascend without them.
[ It seems he's found the very thing Eridanus had needed to hear. As the tension drains from the other man, from his face to his posture to those claws digging so indelicately into his shoulders, Lucius' frustration evaporates as quickly as it came. A smile grows along his mouth again, close-lipped and pleased, and as those hands drop from his shoulders, Lucius lifts his own. Eridanus' lips brush so cutely against his forehead, and Lucius grazes the tips of his fingers along the back of his neck in a gesture of acceptance.
By the time Eridanus turns from him to retrieve that bottle, Lucius' own eyes are creased with indulgence. Eridanus drinks straight from the bottle, and Lucius feels nothing but pleased at the way the other man lets decorum slip. When the wine is handed back, he does the sameāthough the sip he takes is shorter, the tips of his claws teasing at the small of Eridanus' back as he pulls straight from the mouth of the bottle. They graze up the arc of his spine, with just enough pressure to be felt, and then come to a rest between his shoulder blades as Lucius gently urges him back toward the (now damaged) couch. ]
That's right. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest. It aches for you to live free as your truest self. [ As Lucius guides him down beside him, those fingers again come to slide along the back of his neck, stroking through the hair at his nape with a slow, soothing touch. He lifts the bottle to his lips again, and when he moves to pass it to Eridanus' mouth once more, he runs his tongue along the full shape of his lips with a deliberate slowness. ] You're already so beautiful, hungry beast, and you can still be so much more.
[ It's more than empty flattery, and perhaps that is more surprising to Lucius than anyone. He shivers with the thought, aching at the delightful image of the Diadem's decks with his new pet at his side. ]
[The coca wine is potent, his head already swimming from the desperate pulls he'd taken from the bottle. Whatever spiked the drink was enough to heighten his senses, opaque white pupils dilating like a mirrored pond against a grassy clearing. Each gentle fleeting touch of Lucius' fingers against his clothed flesh feels amplified, surging chemicals through his brain that spark a chain reaction of shivers, quiet gasps, and the irritable flicking of that stunted tail. In his placated state, he's easy to manipulate back onto the couch, and the buzzing that reaches all the way to the tips of his clawed fingers has him sinking even further into the worn cushions.
A deep breath is drawn in, and pretty blond lashes flutter as his eyes close. He feels the way his heart hammers in his ribcage, fueled by an intoxicating mix of wine and Lucius' words. His hands are laid at his sides, palms up with his fingers twitching anxiously each time he feels the idle stroking of fingerpads against his nape. For a moment, the tickling sensation has his brows furrowing once more, and his gaze opens half-lidded just in time to have the bottle passed back to him. Eridanus takes it delicately between his fingers, his attention lingering for a moment on the way that spined tongue chases stray beads of drink across plump lips. He swallows dryly, the urge to lunge for Lucius' mouth eating at him, but it's drunken lethargy that keeps him from actually doing it.]
I have been called many things in my centuries... [He murmurs, and tips the bottle to his own lips. The desperate gulfs he had taken earlier were catching up with him now, and the way drink spills from the corners of his lips and stain his white dress shirt is proof of that. He doesn't seem to notice it, and instead breaks his sip with a sigh.]
Yet, when I hear such praise from your lips, it's almost bestial the way my body craves moreāwhat magicks have you cast on me, to have my very soul scream for your pleasure? [The words are followed by an airy laugh, teasing in nature, but there is a hint of seriousness in them. His chin tips towards Lucius, and his eyes once more fixate on him with adulation.]
Should I not be the one asking you that, Archmage? [ Lucius grins with a vicious affection, watching the way dark color trickles down his chin. The hand toying with his hair moves, claws chasing the line of his jaw until he can feel the warm wine against the pads of his fingers, and he scoops those thin drops onto his fingertips. A second later, his tongue flicks out to wipe them clean. ] I can barely remember the last time I felt so smitten with someone.
[ Certainly, the impulse he felt toward those who challenged him on the battlefield was closeābut those were brief flames, all-consuming for as long as they lasted but quickly satisfied. No Sharrowkyn or Sanahkt to escape his blade in centuries and more. This lingering desire to consumeāLucius has reveled in it, and Eridanus has done nothing to quench his obsession even now.
Lucius wants to move closer, and of course, they're already near enough that as much means climbing into his lap. It isn't the half-hooked posture Eridanus had felt from him the last time they had met; instead, Lucius crawls over him like a predator, hovering just without touching as if he might flee or strike without the slightest warning as to which. ]
The word rings through Eridanus' mind like a chorus of chamber bells, and he can feel his heart rate quicken with the giddiness of an inexperienced teenager. The corners of his lips quirk up into an awkward little smile, and a shy laugh warfs from his lungs.]
You flatter meā [His playful words are cut short as Lucius stalks into his personal space, and while it wasn't unwelcome by any means, Eridanus found himself suddenly feeling much too small. Those slitting golden eyes watch him with the hunger of a beast ready to pounce, and once more his skin sings with the instinct to flee.
Just as every time before, he stays right where he's sat. Eridanus lifts his hands, cupping Lucius' face as those adoring eyes fall half-lidded.]
Hmm... let me see. Slaughter wantonly, and bathe myself bloody in the streets? I'm sure that sight would amuse you. Or perhaps... besting you in that duel? How satisfying for the both of us for your first scar against this handsome face to be made by my victory? [Slender obsidian-sharp points trace the lines of Lucius' face as he speaks, and there's a softness to his expression that is stark against his drunkenness.]
Or perhaps a gift? A head still wet at the stump... though I can imagine you would also like a new chassis of armor?
[ Eridanus' mature features light with the infatuation of a boy many, many years younger, and the feeling the lights in Lucius' chest is a ticklish mix of humor and curiosity. It bubbles a laugh to his throat as Eridanus finds his words cut short, and does nothing to discourage the predatory gleam of his hooded eyes, Lucius watching Eridanus below him as if he were every bit as small as he feels. It's funnyāEridanus has shown him just how experienced he is, and yet, underneath Lucius, he's tongue-tied and helpless.
When those hands come up to cradle his face, Lucius allows them. He leans into the touch, and as Eridanus answers him, a gentle purr rumbles in his chest. ]
Eridanus, [ he says, and the name is a purr, tooāof a different sort. He settles himself from his hunter's posture, letting his lithe shape slot into the firmness of Eridanus' body under him. ] If you can so much as push me in a duel, I'll do far more than praise you.
[ But, even in rest, the threat is never gone from Lucius' manner. He drags his tongue across his teeth as if savoring some unspoken pleasure, and his fingers trail along the flesh beneath his chināvulnerable, in comparison, the tips of his claws memorizing every gap in the uneven opal as they graze along his skin.
The offer of a head is always a nice one, particularly with all the thoughts of his own Champion that come with itābut what actually attracts his attention the most is the suggestion of armor. His tufted ears had sat relaxed, but now they perk. ]
Without the gift Slaanesh has given me, it won't be the same. Why, I wonder ā do you wish to see me in my full splendor as lord over his warhost?
[ The question is delivered with a particular sort of coyness usually reserved for attire more easily removed. ]
[As the weight of Lucius' body relaxes against his own, Eridanus finds himself easing back down onto the couch. From an outside perspective, the two could easily look as if they were simply two lovers, lazing in the afternoon sun. By appearance alone, the nature and implications of their conversation would be lost and yet, it's exactly the connection that has brought two separate souls together. In such close proximity the gentle, if not romantic entangling of their forms, is enough to worry Eridanus that his thundering heartbeat would be noticed. Heat blooms in his pallid cheeks and flushes down the length of his neck and ears, his bashfulness encouraged by coca wine.
Lucius' words nag curious thoughts to his head, and before he can stifle them, his lips part.] What is better than your praise? [He asks quietly, as excitement buzzes under his skin.
His claws travel down, over the curve of Lucius' shoulders, before dipping between them. He drags exploring hands over those sides, once knotted with the muscles of a soldier, yet now as lean as a prowling cat's. As Lucius continues on about the armor, his words drum up a memory that wasn't his, of armor he had never seen before. It's true, it isn't the same, and no manner of enchantments could replicate itāeven if Eridanus knew the proper necromantic runes.]
And is it so awful to think that you would look lovely, draped in finery befitting of your profession? Golden armor to match golden eyes and hair. Plate dripping with blood commands stronger emotion than a shirt and jeans, don't you agree? [Eridanus chuckles at the thought, and his claws drag lazily up Lucius' spine as he does.]
[ Clawed fingers drag along his ribs and spine, and perhaps it's merely the intoxicant flooding his own veins, but the sensation lulls his own ever-chaotic thoughts. Lucius allows a deep breath to gust from his nose, and again, of his body's own accord, there is that rumbling sound from deep in his chest. He hasn't thought on it much before, but for a moment, he finds himself lingering over the way Eridanus' touch seems to coax it out from him.
He doesn't feel any shameājust curiosity over this little change, the same way the expressive motion of his ears is a novelty. As Eridanus' body relaxes beneath him, so does his own, limbs lazy and slack as Lucius allows his weight to settle comfortably atop the other man. ]
Oh, my beast, [ Lucius begins to answer, the laugh in his voice hitching the words, ] there is so much more I can give you.
[ But even as he answers, there is a dangerous thought in the back of his headāthat he knows that heady elation, where to simply have that one particular man turn his gaze upon him would nearly be enough for him to die happy. The simple idea sends his blood racing quicker in his veins, and he can feel his own heartbeat in his chest as his tongue darts across his lips. ]
There is my touch, [ he lifts his head with an impish smile, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Eridanus' cheek, ] or perhaps I could reward you with a gift of my own. Wouldn't that be lovely?
[ He thinks about the gift he has already meant to pass to his handābut now isn't the time for it, and neither is it meant to be held over his head as the carrot. His mind drifts around to the idea of armor again, and it's true: it would be so much more befitting of him, even in this diminished form. His eyes fall half-lidded as he lets himself savor the image of himself that Eridanus paints in his mind, blood-soaked and powerful. ]
Golden ā is that the color you think suits me best?
[ Now his smile takes on a flirtatious cast, to match his voice. ]
[Eridanus had never been the most fond of cuddling. Having someone in his personal space was always a nuisance, and even with his wife he had kept their physical touching chaste more often than not. It had been with the excuse of propriety, and the expectations of noble society, but he had found comfort in those fleeting touches.
Yet with Lucius, his space is constantly invaded, as if it's just another piece of the galaxy for this warlord to conquerāexcept he didn't seem to mind it so much, even finding himself eager for when next it would happen. The way Lucius relaxes against him flares excitement through his limbs, buzzing all the way to the tips of those claws that dragged lazily up and down his spine. It felt like earning the trust of a skittish beast, and as Eridanus lays his head back to savor the feeling, he cannot help the thought of just how lucky he is.
As Lucius lists off the rewards to be given one by one, Eridanus can't help the mocking chuckle that rises from his throat.]
You touch me so often, I doubt that would be much of a reward. [His weight shifts beneath the other, accommodating him more comfortably as his claws find the sensitive meat between Lucius' shoulder blades to draw slow circles.]
A gift of your own... hm, interesting and enigmatic. I wonder, what is the type of gift a man who lives his life so wantonly to give? [He draws a short breath, looking down his chest and into those golden eyes.
When the conversation shifts back to what he could only assume to be the armor, Eridanus' visage splits into a coy grin. He raises a hand from Lucius' back and combs his fingers through that short blond hair. Was it getting longer? He couldn't quite tell.
His own cheek leans into that lover's touch, and he sighs.] Hair and eyes of gold, as if touched by the sun... looking at you makes me want to dress you in my house colors, and admire how handsome you would look. Gold, crimson, and black like dark umbra. The only thing missing would be the blood and bodies of foes at your feet.
[ It's said to tease, more than anything. The truth is that a gift from his hand is rarely different than the prizes he takes for himselfāsomething that had seemed interesting and right at the time, but little more. Still, a little suspense is rarely a bad thing, and he can't say he doesn't wonder what Eridanus might do for the chance to earn one.
As Eridanus draws up a brutal image of blood and bodies, a low laugh wafts from Lucius' lungs. He knows he is wearing the wrong face for it, and yet, he settles into the vision as if pulling on an old and comfortable coat; his head leans itself into the touch of clawed fingers in his hair, and rather than stimulated with the desire to kill, he finds himself soothed. He hasn't been keen on dwelling over the way he misses receiving even an ounce of the respect he is owed for his martial accomplishments, but now that someone is giving him as muchāunprompted, evenāhe can't help but bask in it.
There is one problem with the image Eridanus puts forth, however. ]
Gold and black are fine enough, but I much prefer the only red be the blood of the fallen painting my armor. [ His eyes, drifted close in acceptance of the touch, peel half-open, and his lips pull back in a smile as content as it is smug. ] Crimson dyes would only serve to hide just how much has been spilled by my blade, don't you agree?
[ There's probably some religious irony to be mentioned as well, but as Lucius has said before: he doesn't serve Slaanesh. Slaanesh's favor serves him, first and foremost. ]
[A bark of a laugh forces its way through Eridnaus' lungs, his expression creasing with amusement. That of all things wrong with the picture he paints, Lucius finds issue with the color red. It's almost ridiculous, but as those words pass between them, his only thought is that of course Lucius would trade vanity for only one thing: glory.
Those curling claws trace over the curve of his skull, settling to one side and scratching just behind his ear.]
I would argue that the crimson is typically for accents, and would not overpower the armor. Our dressage is mainly black with gold and crimson decorating it, in fact... [He takes a breath, they pauses as he remembers that his mage's clothes are at his apartment with Rosefica, not here.]
Well, I think that museum is still open and running exhibits on us like zoo animals. Maybe we can go there one day and I'll show you images of my home.
Then perhaps I'm simply more partial to the two your house shares with the livery of the Emperor's Children.
[ Though, of course, it isn't as though he has worn those violets and golds himself for a long, long time, his living armor wrapped instead in the pinkish, unrotting flesh of those foolish enough to believe they could kill the Eternal without consequence. There's a vague thought that floats around in the back of his mind, about how they might have nearly matched once, but the claws teasing his scalp distract him, and his eyes flutter closed again.
Another half-formed thought begins to surface, about how he would allow no one else, save for perhaps Clarion, to touch him this way, but before he can follow it through to whatever questions and answers come along with it, Eridanus mentions the museum. His eyes open, and his ears perk. ]
Do you not care for it? It pleases me that my accomplishments are known even here, myself. [ Lucius is not a man who looks on any part of his life with shame, and accordingly, it doesn't so much as occur to him that others may have things displayed there that they do not want largely known. He just sees an opportunity to know more of the man who has sworn himself to him, and an opportunity to further impress him with the image of his glorious victories. ] Perhaps I ought to be the one to show you mine, then. I wonder, what will you think of your vow when you look upon my true face?
[Another short laugh escapes Eridnaus, though he leaves it at that. He can only imagine what faction within Lucius' world that his colors hold significance with, and he wonders for a moment what the man will think when he brandishes his new sword at their duel.
It's a short lived fantasy though, as his words prompt him back to the thought of the museum. The gentle smile, full of mirth, falls away to a more somber expression. His fingers still for the barest of moments, before gliding across the crown of Lucius' head to lavish his other ear in attention.]
Hm well, there are plenty of my accomplishments there. Raiments I've worn throughout my centuries, and even my own full bodied painting prior to these changes. [He remembers that Lucius met him after his first changes began, and technically after he'd put on all the new muscle weight too. He wonders just how Lucius would view him, in his emaciated splendor.]
But there are also paintings of that painful memory you saw, and while it may not mean much to you, it certainly does to me. It is my greatest regret, and to be reminded of it is like stabbing an old wound open. [His brows furrow then, and he sighs.] If you are curious enough, we can go. If anything, I'll gaze upon your portrait in full glory.
And yet, I've already seen that moment in a fair more intimate way than any painting. [ The words don't come with the solemn respect that the subject perhaps deserves, but of course, Lucius doesn't mean anything by it. Eridanus is right to say that the memory means nothing to Luciusāand that makes him content to move past it without lingering on the negativity bound up in the topic. ] What need is there for either of us to dwell over a facsimile of what we've seen in the flesh?
[ Just ignore it. That is, unfortunately, Lucius' advice for most things of this natureābut it has worked where his own insecurities are concerned, for millennia longer than Eridanus has been alive, so he doesn't see why it wouldn't work for him as well. ]
I want you to see me. [ The words slip from Lucius without thought, and there is an urgency that coils in his chest that doesn't quite reach those easy words. ] There is a portrait of me there, painted by the hand of Serena d'Angelus. A woman among the most skilled of her art and era. It's one of her last works, too.
[Eridanus knows Lucius' words to be true, that there is no point dwelling upon the ghosts of past, and that no amount of regret would ever change the fate of his students. He knows it like he knows the face of that young man from behind Lucius' own gaze, and he ignores it. Lucius' words are tucked away quietly next to that memory forced upon his psyche, and buried deep within him where they won't be touched. He isn't ready to let go of this grief for his students, and when Lucius changes the topic, he's all too eager to go along with it.
Except that the words out of Lucius' mouth tug something within him. They came as fluid and relaxed as anything from the man that laid across his chest, and yet, there is something more. A hint of depth that he quietly grasps at and holds to his heart.
Eridanus's claws trace a crescent behind the curve of Lucius' ear, following the line of his sculpted jaw and tilting his chin up so their eyes meet. Golden cat-eyes would be greeted by a warm, loving smile.] I will see you, if you wish me to. I will bask in your former glory as I bask in your current. Anything for my Eternal.
[He doesn't think about the pleasant hum of intoxication within his head, only the slow thud of his heart rate as his chest tightens with his own words. Awkward as it is, he tips his own chin so that he may kiss Lucius' forehead adoringly.] Perhaps we can make a trip there sometime soon?
[ Perhaps it's those intoxicating drafts he had pulled from the bottle himself, but as he is met with that adoring smile, Lucius finds he can do nothing but laugh. He supposes they are lovers, in a sense, but even so, to treat him like oneāthe absurdity of it makes his shoulders hitch, mirth overflowing from his throat like water left too long to boil. ]
If any brother of mine saw the way you look at me, they'd think you more insane than I am. [ Even as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shake with the humor of it all. ] And perhaps they would be right! We'll see what you have to say, once you've seen it for yourself.
[ And yet, as his trembling shoulders finally still, he sinks down as if the shape of Eridanus was a bed made just for him. He finds his collar a comfortable enough place for his head to rest, and so he lays it there, thinking to himself that he's lucky Eridanus is so easily impressed by the sight of him in this frail, mortal body. The thought settles over him like the arms of a peaceful sleep, and his limbs relax in a way they so rarely do. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
The way he exhales the breath he held is like dragon-fire poured past his lips, smoke pluming from the hot furnace of his rage-gripped heart, stoked by the coals of Lucius' wordsātheir embers licking at his skin. Sick thoughts of abandonment fill Eridanus' mind, of Rosefica leaving him, and if given the opportunity, Lucius too. The cesspit that opens within him is cavenous, bottomless, and thirsty. Like the fluttering of wings, selfish ideas pass through his mindāthe desire to entrap Lucius in the void of his heart clawing eager and torturous at his limbs.
Yet, it is one lone thought, one lone idea that manages to stay him from lunging at Lucius like a rabid animal. His grip on the seat cushion loosens, and he brings that wine glass, shaking in his hand, to his lips for a taste. There is a look of smug satisfaction that captures him, as he grins impishly up at Lucius.]
All his power and he's yet to come rescue you from this place? I wonder if he even notices you are gone? [His words are haughty, and he can feel the umbral talons of avaricion dig into his weak flesh.] Perhaps he's replaced you with some new toy. A shame that you are stuck in Ryslig, with no manner to contest your place in beloved Fulgrim's heart.
no subject
[ The inside of his head still pounds, and as he pads back toward the couch, there is something that would nearly be a drunken sway to his step, if not for how sure-footed every stride seems to be regardless. ]
I wonder, how long as it been since I've felt his touch? [ The question is plainly rhetorical, and he laughs at it. A second later, he drains the rest of the wine from his glass, and, heedless of its fragility or the remnants of the wine still pooled within its basin, he tosses it aside. ] Eridanus, this jealousy is unbecoming of you. You are special to me. Do you think even Fulgrim loves me so deeply that he wishes for us to be joined together for all time?
[ Standing before Eridanus, Lucius splays both hands at his hips. It's an invitation, but for what is for Eridanus to decide. ]
no subject
And he was not yet ready to fully hand the leash over.]
Jealousy, greed, obsession... [He breathes the words like noxious fumes, before taking a long, indulgent drink. Just as Lucius did, he finishes every last drop, before carelessly tossing the glass aside.] These are the traits that drew you to me, traits you saw promise in, that could be cultivated in the image of your god.
[With the explosive force of an erupting volcano, Eridanus leaps from the couch, only to come nose to nose with Lucius. Those words of specialness and love are like molten hot pokers to his open wounds, and act as the cattle prods that have his claws snapping around the shorter man's throat. He wants to say moreāabout how that senseless oath that had dripped like honey from his lips in a moment of passion, was the crack that birthed a chasm of darkness between he and his wife. The sense that he has been ignoring, intentionally or not, is screaming to rescind his oath.
Yet as his viridescent gaze, alight with fury, stares into the slitting golden orbs before it, he finds his words stuck in his throat. His opalite grasp is squeezing, his muscles taut with killing intent, but he doesn't crush the fragile meat and cartilage. Weakness takes him, like the swelling of a storm come to culmination, he pulls Lucius' mouth into his own. His breath is hot and heavy, the tangy scent of coca wine flavoring it, as desperation grips him even more tightly, and its as if he's being eaten alive by it.
Carelessness would have it that the sharp opal of his tusks would leave behind shallow cuts against Lucius' lips, but they matter not in Eridanus' mind as a quiet sob breaks their kiss. Stinging tears threaten the corners of his eyes, but they have yet to fall. The only notion of his sorrow manifested in the gentle shake of his shoulders and the loosening of his grip on Lucius' neck.]
Light... what have I done?
I cannot believe I am using this icon... lol...
The thought is like poisoned wine: it sits bitter in his mouth, and yet he cannot stop drinking of it, letting its flavor pour down his throat until it floods his flesh down to the tips of his fingers and toes. It tempts him to struggle, simply to know how it feels to be powerless and overpowered by a man he scarcely reaches the chin ofābut then Eridanus pulls him up to crush their mouths together, and Lucius can't help the noise that escapes him, a low, amused whine lost among the sounds of heated breath and lips drawing at slick lips. His own hands come up, and suddenly, he is irritated with all this cloth Eridanus is wearing, no flesh left bare for Lucius and his claws to tear into in his passion.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it glistening on his lips, when their mouths hitch apart again. His spiny, catlike tongue runs across his lips to clean them, and it's as good a way as any to hide that he isn't quite sure what kind of expression he should be making at first. Tearful eyes, like that strange breakdown in their shared dream, aren't something it has been Lucius' responsibility to deal with very often, and particularly not from a man he realizes he has foolishly begun to think of as something of a peer. ]
And what have you done, dear Eridanus? [ The end result is a bemused expression on Lucius' face, his eyebrows arched in confusion that isn't wholly dishonest. His fingers come up, gently pressing themselves over Eridanus' lips so he may speak without interruption. ] You never made the choice to part with your wife ā she threw you out, over something that made no difference to your love for her.
no subject
You don't understand it is different, weā [A hitching breath interrupts him, and like the wilting leaves of a dying plant, his ears and shoulders wither.] We had an agreement, that I would tell her about these things, and then I did the opposite... she is furious for my lying, Lucius.
[It's unconscious the way his talons dig into cloth and skin, his emotions leaving him unrestrained and unthinking of their risk. His eyes are desperate as they search Lucius' confused expression, as if trying to find answers that he could grasp for in those knotted brows and slim smile. The guilt that eats his conscious, goading his imagination into vivid coca-fueled imagery of a grieving Rosefica, also selfishly seek forgiveness in Luciusāas if it were even his place to gift it.]
How am I to fix this? [A foolish question, for he already knows the answer. He knows that Rosefica will expect him to cut off their burgeoning relationship, denounce Lucius' stake in his eternity, and claim Rosefica as his one and only. It's selfishness that keeps him from admitting it to himself, and instead his denial tenses his arms rigid once more.] Should I... even fix this?
no subject
And so she tossed aside your companionship for a single transgression? [ Instead, he channels the feeling into sounding righteously indignant. Lucius, on the other hand, has no delusions about what it will mean for Eridanus to return to Rosefica's handāand never has he been a man to allow the pleasure right in front of him to be stolen by another. ] You'll fix things, in time ā when she realizes her own foolishness. Go running back to her right away, and she'll know she can demand whatever she pleases of you. She'll collar you, and control where it is you can go and who it is you can see.
[ He brings a hand to Eridanus' wrist, making a gentle attempt to pry the hand free. ]
Instead, let her realize she is every bit as miserable without you. Maybe that will make her more understanding.
no subject
You are right... [His tone is soft, sweet even, as the misplaced answers he had sought were so willingly given to him.] I have never committed such a wrongdoing before, and you would think there would be even an ounce of respect for that? This is a misunderstanding... yes... a misunderstanding.
[Eridanus' talons slide away from Lucius' shoulders, and he leans down only briefly to peck at the man's forehead, as if admitting thanks for his guidance to clarity. Whether this was genuine belief, or the final nail in the coffin of his shattered mind, Eridanus is far from caring. What makes that runty tail of his swing back and forth is that he is free from the weight of his sins, if only for a moment.]
She would not allow me my freedom, and that won't do! A collar and leash is necessary for guidance, not control. [He turns away from Lucius, bending at the hip to grab the bottle of coca wine and indulge in its intoxication. He tips the mouth of the bottle to his lips and takes a few deep gulfs before handing it to Lucius,] I need to be free, yes... I need to be allowed to follow these desires, I won't be allowed to ascend without them.
no subject
By the time Eridanus turns from him to retrieve that bottle, Lucius' own eyes are creased with indulgence. Eridanus drinks straight from the bottle, and Lucius feels nothing but pleased at the way the other man lets decorum slip. When the wine is handed back, he does the sameāthough the sip he takes is shorter, the tips of his claws teasing at the small of Eridanus' back as he pulls straight from the mouth of the bottle. They graze up the arc of his spine, with just enough pressure to be felt, and then come to a rest between his shoulder blades as Lucius gently urges him back toward the (now damaged) couch. ]
That's right. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest. It aches for you to live free as your truest self. [ As Lucius guides him down beside him, those fingers again come to slide along the back of his neck, stroking through the hair at his nape with a slow, soothing touch. He lifts the bottle to his lips again, and when he moves to pass it to Eridanus' mouth once more, he runs his tongue along the full shape of his lips with a deliberate slowness. ] You're already so beautiful, hungry beast, and you can still be so much more.
[ It's more than empty flattery, and perhaps that is more surprising to Lucius than anyone. He shivers with the thought, aching at the delightful image of the Diadem's decks with his new pet at his side. ]
no subject
A deep breath is drawn in, and pretty blond lashes flutter as his eyes close. He feels the way his heart hammers in his ribcage, fueled by an intoxicating mix of wine and Lucius' words. His hands are laid at his sides, palms up with his fingers twitching anxiously each time he feels the idle stroking of fingerpads against his nape. For a moment, the tickling sensation has his brows furrowing once more, and his gaze opens half-lidded just in time to have the bottle passed back to him. Eridanus takes it delicately between his fingers, his attention lingering for a moment on the way that spined tongue chases stray beads of drink across plump lips. He swallows dryly, the urge to lunge for Lucius' mouth eating at him, but it's drunken lethargy that keeps him from actually doing it.]
I have been called many things in my centuries... [He murmurs, and tips the bottle to his own lips. The desperate gulfs he had taken earlier were catching up with him now, and the way drink spills from the corners of his lips and stain his white dress shirt is proof of that. He doesn't seem to notice it, and instead breaks his sip with a sigh.]
Yet, when I hear such praise from your lips, it's almost bestial the way my body craves moreāwhat magicks have you cast on me, to have my very soul scream for your pleasure? [The words are followed by an airy laugh, teasing in nature, but there is a hint of seriousness in them. His chin tips towards Lucius, and his eyes once more fixate on him with adulation.]
no subject
[ Certainly, the impulse he felt toward those who challenged him on the battlefield was closeābut those were brief flames, all-consuming for as long as they lasted but quickly satisfied. No Sharrowkyn or Sanahkt to escape his blade in centuries and more. This lingering desire to consumeāLucius has reveled in it, and Eridanus has done nothing to quench his obsession even now.
Lucius wants to move closer, and of course, they're already near enough that as much means climbing into his lap. It isn't the half-hooked posture Eridanus had felt from him the last time they had met; instead, Lucius crawls over him like a predator, hovering just without touching as if he might flee or strike without the slightest warning as to which. ]
And what would you do, just to hear more?
no subject
The word rings through Eridanus' mind like a chorus of chamber bells, and he can feel his heart rate quicken with the giddiness of an inexperienced teenager. The corners of his lips quirk up into an awkward little smile, and a shy laugh warfs from his lungs.]
You flatter meā [His playful words are cut short as Lucius stalks into his personal space, and while it wasn't unwelcome by any means, Eridanus found himself suddenly feeling much too small. Those slitting golden eyes watch him with the hunger of a beast ready to pounce, and once more his skin sings with the instinct to flee.
Just as every time before, he stays right where he's sat. Eridanus lifts his hands, cupping Lucius' face as those adoring eyes fall half-lidded.]
Hmm... let me see. Slaughter wantonly, and bathe myself bloody in the streets? I'm sure that sight would amuse you. Or perhaps... besting you in that duel? How satisfying for the both of us for your first scar against this handsome face to be made by my victory? [Slender obsidian-sharp points trace the lines of Lucius' face as he speaks, and there's a softness to his expression that is stark against his drunkenness.]
Or perhaps a gift? A head still wet at the stump... though I can imagine you would also like a new chassis of armor?
no subject
When those hands come up to cradle his face, Lucius allows them. He leans into the touch, and as Eridanus answers him, a gentle purr rumbles in his chest. ]
Eridanus, [ he says, and the name is a purr, tooāof a different sort. He settles himself from his hunter's posture, letting his lithe shape slot into the firmness of Eridanus' body under him. ] If you can so much as push me in a duel, I'll do far more than praise you.
[ But, even in rest, the threat is never gone from Lucius' manner. He drags his tongue across his teeth as if savoring some unspoken pleasure, and his fingers trail along the flesh beneath his chināvulnerable, in comparison, the tips of his claws memorizing every gap in the uneven opal as they graze along his skin.
The offer of a head is always a nice one, particularly with all the thoughts of his own Champion that come with itābut what actually attracts his attention the most is the suggestion of armor. His tufted ears had sat relaxed, but now they perk. ]
Without the gift Slaanesh has given me, it won't be the same. Why, I wonder ā do you wish to see me in my full splendor as lord over his warhost?
[ The question is delivered with a particular sort of coyness usually reserved for attire more easily removed. ]
no subject
Lucius' words nag curious thoughts to his head, and before he can stifle them, his lips part.] What is better than your praise? [He asks quietly, as excitement buzzes under his skin.
His claws travel down, over the curve of Lucius' shoulders, before dipping between them. He drags exploring hands over those sides, once knotted with the muscles of a soldier, yet now as lean as a prowling cat's. As Lucius continues on about the armor, his words drum up a memory that wasn't his, of armor he had never seen before. It's true, it isn't the same, and no manner of enchantments could replicate itāeven if Eridanus knew the proper necromantic runes.]
And is it so awful to think that you would look lovely, draped in finery befitting of your profession? Golden armor to match golden eyes and hair. Plate dripping with blood commands stronger emotion than a shirt and jeans, don't you agree? [Eridanus chuckles at the thought, and his claws drag lazily up Lucius' spine as he does.]
no subject
He doesn't feel any shameājust curiosity over this little change, the same way the expressive motion of his ears is a novelty. As Eridanus' body relaxes beneath him, so does his own, limbs lazy and slack as Lucius allows his weight to settle comfortably atop the other man. ]
Oh, my beast, [ Lucius begins to answer, the laugh in his voice hitching the words, ] there is so much more I can give you.
[ But even as he answers, there is a dangerous thought in the back of his headāthat he knows that heady elation, where to simply have that one particular man turn his gaze upon him would nearly be enough for him to die happy. The simple idea sends his blood racing quicker in his veins, and he can feel his own heartbeat in his chest as his tongue darts across his lips. ]
There is my touch, [ he lifts his head with an impish smile, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Eridanus' cheek, ] or perhaps I could reward you with a gift of my own. Wouldn't that be lovely?
[ He thinks about the gift he has already meant to pass to his handābut now isn't the time for it, and neither is it meant to be held over his head as the carrot. His mind drifts around to the idea of armor again, and it's true: it would be so much more befitting of him, even in this diminished form. His eyes fall half-lidded as he lets himself savor the image of himself that Eridanus paints in his mind, blood-soaked and powerful. ]
Golden ā is that the color you think suits me best?
[ Now his smile takes on a flirtatious cast, to match his voice. ]
no subject
Yet with Lucius, his space is constantly invaded, as if it's just another piece of the galaxy for this warlord to conquerāexcept he didn't seem to mind it so much, even finding himself eager for when next it would happen. The way Lucius relaxes against him flares excitement through his limbs, buzzing all the way to the tips of those claws that dragged lazily up and down his spine. It felt like earning the trust of a skittish beast, and as Eridanus lays his head back to savor the feeling, he cannot help the thought of just how lucky he is.
As Lucius lists off the rewards to be given one by one, Eridanus can't help the mocking chuckle that rises from his throat.]
You touch me so often, I doubt that would be much of a reward. [His weight shifts beneath the other, accommodating him more comfortably as his claws find the sensitive meat between Lucius' shoulder blades to draw slow circles.]
A gift of your own... hm, interesting and enigmatic. I wonder, what is the type of gift a man who lives his life so wantonly to give? [He draws a short breath, looking down his chest and into those golden eyes.
When the conversation shifts back to what he could only assume to be the armor, Eridanus' visage splits into a coy grin. He raises a hand from Lucius' back and combs his fingers through that short blond hair. Was it getting longer? He couldn't quite tell.
His own cheek leans into that lover's touch, and he sighs.] Hair and eyes of gold, as if touched by the sun... looking at you makes me want to dress you in my house colors, and admire how handsome you would look. Gold, crimson, and black like dark umbra. The only thing missing would be the blood and bodies of foes at your feet.
no subject
[ It's said to tease, more than anything. The truth is that a gift from his hand is rarely different than the prizes he takes for himselfāsomething that had seemed interesting and right at the time, but little more. Still, a little suspense is rarely a bad thing, and he can't say he doesn't wonder what Eridanus might do for the chance to earn one.
As Eridanus draws up a brutal image of blood and bodies, a low laugh wafts from Lucius' lungs. He knows he is wearing the wrong face for it, and yet, he settles into the vision as if pulling on an old and comfortable coat; his head leans itself into the touch of clawed fingers in his hair, and rather than stimulated with the desire to kill, he finds himself soothed. He hasn't been keen on dwelling over the way he misses receiving even an ounce of the respect he is owed for his martial accomplishments, but now that someone is giving him as muchāunprompted, evenāhe can't help but bask in it.
There is one problem with the image Eridanus puts forth, however. ]
Gold and black are fine enough, but I much prefer the only red be the blood of the fallen painting my armor. [ His eyes, drifted close in acceptance of the touch, peel half-open, and his lips pull back in a smile as content as it is smug. ] Crimson dyes would only serve to hide just how much has been spilled by my blade, don't you agree?
[ There's probably some religious irony to be mentioned as well, but as Lucius has said before: he doesn't serve Slaanesh. Slaanesh's favor serves him, first and foremost. ]
no subject
Those curling claws trace over the curve of his skull, settling to one side and scratching just behind his ear.]
I would argue that the crimson is typically for accents, and would not overpower the armor. Our dressage is mainly black with gold and crimson decorating it, in fact... [He takes a breath, they pauses as he remembers that his mage's clothes are at his apartment with Rosefica, not here.]
Well, I think that museum is still open and running exhibits on us like zoo animals. Maybe we can go there one day and I'll show you images of my home.
no subject
[ Though, of course, it isn't as though he has worn those violets and golds himself for a long, long time, his living armor wrapped instead in the pinkish, unrotting flesh of those foolish enough to believe they could kill the Eternal without consequence. There's a vague thought that floats around in the back of his mind, about how they might have nearly matched once, but the claws teasing his scalp distract him, and his eyes flutter closed again.
Another half-formed thought begins to surface, about how he would allow no one else, save for perhaps Clarion, to touch him this way, but before he can follow it through to whatever questions and answers come along with it, Eridanus mentions the museum. His eyes open, and his ears perk. ]
Do you not care for it? It pleases me that my accomplishments are known even here, myself. [ Lucius is not a man who looks on any part of his life with shame, and accordingly, it doesn't so much as occur to him that others may have things displayed there that they do not want largely known. He just sees an opportunity to know more of the man who has sworn himself to him, and an opportunity to further impress him with the image of his glorious victories. ] Perhaps I ought to be the one to show you mine, then. I wonder, what will you think of your vow when you look upon my true face?
no subject
It's a short lived fantasy though, as his words prompt him back to the thought of the museum. The gentle smile, full of mirth, falls away to a more somber expression. His fingers still for the barest of moments, before gliding across the crown of Lucius' head to lavish his other ear in attention.]
Hm well, there are plenty of my accomplishments there. Raiments I've worn throughout my centuries, and even my own full bodied painting prior to these changes. [He remembers that Lucius met him after his first changes began, and technically after he'd put on all the new muscle weight too. He wonders just how Lucius would view him, in his emaciated splendor.]
But there are also paintings of that painful memory you saw, and while it may not mean much to you, it certainly does to me. It is my greatest regret, and to be reminded of it is like stabbing an old wound open. [His brows furrow then, and he sighs.] If you are curious enough, we can go. If anything, I'll gaze upon your portrait in full glory.
no subject
[ Just ignore it. That is, unfortunately, Lucius' advice for most things of this natureābut it has worked where his own insecurities are concerned, for millennia longer than Eridanus has been alive, so he doesn't see why it wouldn't work for him as well. ]
I want you to see me. [ The words slip from Lucius without thought, and there is an urgency that coils in his chest that doesn't quite reach those easy words. ] There is a portrait of me there, painted by the hand of Serena d'Angelus. A woman among the most skilled of her art and era. It's one of her last works, too.
no subject
Except that the words out of Lucius' mouth tug something within him. They came as fluid and relaxed as anything from the man that laid across his chest, and yet, there is something more. A hint of depth that he quietly grasps at and holds to his heart.
Eridanus's claws trace a crescent behind the curve of Lucius' ear, following the line of his sculpted jaw and tilting his chin up so their eyes meet. Golden cat-eyes would be greeted by a warm, loving smile.] I will see you, if you wish me to. I will bask in your former glory as I bask in your current. Anything for my Eternal.
[He doesn't think about the pleasant hum of intoxication within his head, only the slow thud of his heart rate as his chest tightens with his own words. Awkward as it is, he tips his own chin so that he may kiss Lucius' forehead adoringly.] Perhaps we can make a trip there sometime soon?
no subject
If any brother of mine saw the way you look at me, they'd think you more insane than I am. [ Even as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shake with the humor of it all. ] And perhaps they would be right! We'll see what you have to say, once you've seen it for yourself.
[ And yet, as his trembling shoulders finally still, he sinks down as if the shape of Eridanus was a bed made just for him. He finds his collar a comfortable enough place for his head to rest, and so he lays it there, thinking to himself that he's lucky Eridanus is so easily impressed by the sight of him in this frail, mortal body. The thought settles over him like the arms of a peaceful sleep, and his limbs relax in a way they so rarely do. ]
Whenever you wish, my Archmage.