Flashback Well, this is different (Valo)

[Corneliun]

Corneliun said nothing, but he watched the expression change. So badly he wanted to cast it aside and hold dearly onto his friend, to simply hold him just as he was held mere moments before. And so the rogue summoned his strength, he called upon his feeble heart and mind, to serve once more as sword and shield for those who needed it. He watched the broken artist, and slowly he forced his stiff legs to move and walk. With every step he felt the solid earth beneath him, with every step he felt his mind growing sharp, with ever step he became more of a man that he once was. He crouched before Valo, and gently took his hands. He ran the ivory fingers through his, his broader ones gently rubbing and feeling those small bones. He looked down upon their fine shape, their elegant touch. The hands of an artist. But more importantly of a man that was about to break. Corneliun inhaled, and met the eyes of the artist once more. He shook his head and raised a hand to caress those very features, those very ones that were torn and in so much pain.

“Valo,” he said his name in such a clear tone “I will not stop you. But even I know that is not what you want.”
Those golden eyes stared up at his, wavering for a moment before closing. He let his mind reside within darkness for only a moment before opening them once more. But it was that moment in darkness that allowed him to think, to plan and to reach out. To decide his next course of action within the game of cards that had only just begun. So gently did he slide a hand behind the head of Valo, to feel the knotted red hair that existed there, to look upon those tired eyes that screamed only of confusion. It was now time for him to be that shield from the world. Slowly the mixed blood stood, looking down upon Valo for only a moment before sitting himself down next to him on the bed. There he simply said nothing, but his arm reached up and wrapped around the form of the artist and reeled him in.

He held the quivering man, and pulled him to an embrace that he would not let go of. For now the mixed blood had steeled himself and her would be there for him. And it was perhaps for an age that he held him, a gentle rocking matched with soft breathing, his fingers stroking the hair of the artist, that Corneliun summoned himself out once more.
“You need some rest,” he gave a whisper for turning his head and gently pressing his lips upon Valo’s forehead “Just some rest and relaxation. Just you and me. Yes?”
It was an attempt to find a hold that the artist could hold on to, for letting the man go out there in the state that was now wrapped around him was a cruel thing indeed. And it was something Corneliun would not forgive himself for, not after all that he had done for him.

[Valo]

Corneliun walked over to the artist, crouching before him so that no longer had Valo the liberty of staring blindly at the floor. For now ever the floor became Corneliun. No use in trying to divert his gaze, no use indeed thus in surrender, their eyes rejoined. And as that bond was once again established, Corneliun reached for his hands of ivory, held them in his. Valo's eyes fell, stared at the movement of the man's caress upon his pale skin, the frighteningly pleasant sensation. The way their fingers entwines, the slenderness on his own feature against that masculinity of Corn's. His fingers tracing the shape of his bone structure, the linear tendons beneath the paper thin skin. The purple veins that snake prominently beneath it. Almost as a reply to it, Valo gave a gentle squeeze back. A plea for this closeness. Subconscious almost but a pleas none the less.

“Valo,” Corneliun said his name in such a clear tone “I will not stop you. But even I know that is not what you want.” The man's hand reached to his face. A reinitialisation of the visual connection and for a moment Valo leaned in closer. For a moment he had forgotten him self completely, decreasing the distance between them. Only for a moment, and jaggedly he stopped him self before the action could become really noticeable. For Valo found him self suspended, just a short distance from his friend, suspended in the most horrifying thoughts of all. Or perhaps it was no thought at all, but the most terrible of desires. A desire to lay his lips upon his yet again. Why, by the love of any deity that could ever love him, would such a desire surface within him? And of all people, why Corneliun? But one thing was certain, just one sober kiss would never be enough and however many times he'd kiss that man in the future, it would never be enough again.

Agony swelled in his eyes which slowly regained their animation. Pure agony. The self deprivation of such a simple desire. How could it cause him so much distress? Now Valo couldn't hide it, but perhaps he could disguise the intention. perhaps he could blame his conduct upon the worry for his friend. A dishonest escape root of a weak man, but Valo had surrendered to such a title now. No use pretending.

As Corneliun's golden eyes looked up to his own, before the band perched himself beside his friend. A singular arm wrapped around the artist's slender shoulders. Grateful, was Valo that he no longer had to look into those soulful amber eyes, thus in his shame, he simply closed his and leaned a little into Corneliun. His posture on crooked that he had been almost the half blood Isur's height. For as the moment of silence dissipated between them, so quickly it vanished as Corneliun's arms wound around him in a tight embrace and an age passed before his words finally rolled out. “You need some rest,” he gave a whisper for turning his head and gently pressing his lips upon Valo’s forehead “Just some rest and relaxation. Just you and me. Yes?”

Reluctantly Valo pulled away, a weak smile on his face as the warmth returned into his feature. But he had remained muted, almost too calm. "Corneliun. When have we turned into this?" he spoke as all physical ties between him and the man were severed. Sad eyes, drooped in profound calmness staring soulfully. "Time is a cruel mistress it seems, for in my arms I have held my dearest friend, a man whom I have always adored and still do. But as once I have understood you, I fear I do no longer. Furthermore, I believe I no longer understand my self." his voice was so very quiet, barely a whisper. But there were things that needed to be said. Things he simply had to spit out of himself, thus, despite the probably pitiful appearance of his, he spoke. "Are we men? Or are we simply lost? Or should I not concern my self with such nonsense." with the last words he gave out an almost hysteric chuckle which was almost instantly subdued. A pause in which be stared at his hands, twiddled his thumbs and flexed his fingers in discomfort, then against looked to Corneliun. "You scared me dear friend. For just a moment I feared I may loose you one way or another."

At that point his words stopped with an abrupt tremble of his lip. That monologue however carried on in his head. Silent it was. Words that were painted in another language in his eyes but his lips no longer moved. "There is something I wish to do, right here right now. I don't understand the nature of this feeling, but like it's slave it is calling me. Wretched desire. A petching craving. If I was to tell you what it is, you would no doubt ridicule me but every moment I spend not doing it, my heart aches for you. What have you done to me last night, dear friend?, that I may now feel this way." In the depths of his mind, Valo imagined himself reaching out to Corneliun and brushing his lips against the man's, then ceasing him, winding those slender fingers into his hair so that he may not escape. Had this always been the case? Had he always felt so strongly for the man, or was it the residual drunkenness. Perhaps the deeply convoluted emotion of the previous ordeal simply taking it's toll on his sanity.

[Corneliun]

Corneliun was silent during Valo’s monologue, simply absorbing the words that his dear friend said. He kept his eyes averted, not that he was ignoring him, it was respect for what was emptying out into the air. He observed the emotions, he listened to the near whispers that escaped the throat of a man in pain, the twisted chuckle that rose up. But during all that time he simply listened, his hands cupped into a ball, a slow nod in understanding before the artist fell silent. He turned his golden eyes to the artist, watching the tremble form upon his lips, the confused pain upon his face whilst Corneliun’s remained calm and neutral. It was his turn to answer to the distressed heart, to help where possible though in honesty he doubt he would be able to find the words that were so desperately needed. And so the rogue brought himself to answer honestly, for that was all he could do.

“I do not know,” he spoke, his word calm and smooth “For there is questions that not even I can answer. And if I was to try and answer them, it would be simply misguided and wrong.”
He cleared his throat, his eyes staring out across the room, the golden flecks growing sharp and focused. He released his hand and moved it so it simply rested above his knee, his palm open, a sign that should Valo wish to take it he may.
“But men or not, I know one thing for certain,” his eyes turned to Valo “Just as you were scared of loosing me, I too was scared of loosing you. A fate that I wish would never happen.”
He tried to smile, but he ended up expelling a sigh with a frown falling upon his face. His mind was confused, dizzy with thought as he tried so desperately to remember the previous night, to find a way to solve all these worries and fears in one fell swoop. If he could he would have wrapped himself around his dear friend and shielded him from the world, but that seemed far from the correct cure right now.

With his other hand the mixed blood rubbed his brow, a firm crease having formed across it. Rogue or not, the cards in his hand were poor and he had little chance in trying to drag the pair of them out of this sense of despair that had wrapped its hands around them. But sitting in silence solved nothing, it never did. Silence only let the emotions brew and bubble away, and would in the long run only cause more harm than good. To release those chains that weighed both of the men down and held them back. His eyes closed for a moment, sending him into a brief blackness, cutting out those eyes that seemed to plead so much for him and refused to let him escape. His mind flickered to and fro from the present and the night before. He remembered the sand, the stars, the smell of the sea, the hum of the ocean, of lips upon his.

But the memory now was only bitter sweet, and wrapped up in the wall of confusion and alcohol that possessed them the night before. He wished so dearly to confirm himself, to reach out and feel once more, to see if it was little more than a drunken desire built upon impulse. But although his heart wished to try, to taste and to touch, his mind prevented him, it locked him in place so he became little more than an observer that was allowed to occasionally talk. He turned his head to Valo, a look of both concern filling his eyes, but one that also craved to reach out and hold onto the artist until his grief and worry had vanished. Yet right this instant he was unsure on how the man would react, and if by the slightest touch he would be little more than a crushed flower.
“Valo,” he spoke at a whisper “There will be a time that I tell you what plagues me and why I shot away in fear. But right now, that is a conversation that I would not like to impose upon our fragile states.”

[Valo]

As Corneliun's eyes were averted, so were Valo's but it seemed the artist had little self control. He wanted to look at his friend, to behold his dashing handsomeness, for an artist he was at heart and those beautiful things pleased him. Thus his eyes periodically glanced to the rouge, observing the very nature of his eyes. The subtle droop of the corners in a relaxed face. The crisp almond shape, pale waterlines and the way that light reflected in the amber flex of his irises. The subtle creases which resulted in the folding of skin whenever he would smile. Ever so real and ever so beautiful. Allowing the words to wash over him, the artist watched as Corneliun inverted his hand upon his knee, only one however. Was it some sort of a gesture perhaps?, Valo couldn't help his confusion that resulted in this. Lifelines upon that hand now visible, creased into the skin as if it was fabric. A relaxation that manifested in the delicate curling up of fingers.

“But men or not, I know one thing for certain,” his eyes turned to Valo “Just as you were scared of loosing me, I too was scared of loosing you. A fate that I wish would never happen.”

With streams of red loitering about his face, the artist looked to his friend from beneath his brow. arms drooped aimlessly between his knees. His posture, tossed away and forgotten as his dirt plastered shirt folded about his chest. It pleased him to hear those words. A gentle flicker of a smile about the corners of his lip. "Corneliun, we were best friends once." he replied with a prolonged pause as a prerequisite to the nest statement. A pause to Thrust those emerald eyes upon his friend. "And that will never change. I am your's as you are mine."That smile however dissolved into nothingness the moment a great sigh was expelled from Corneliun's lung. The inversion of the man's lip. Thus Valo's expression was rendered blank, not really knowing what to think any more for it seemed thinking had become his enemy. A yet more creating upon his brow now as he rubbed his hand upon it.

“Valo,” he spoke at a whisper “There will be a time that I tell you what plagues me and why I shot away in fear. But right now, that is a conversation that I would not like to impose upon our fragile states.”

Suffice to say that Valo was relieved to hear that. Not because he didn't wish to be enlightened upon the topic of Corn's troubles. Quite the contrary. He was however glad not to be the reason for the man's sudden breakdown, for that is precisely what he thought himself to be. "You owe me no explanation." he replied softly, the smile once again returning to his face. Voice hushed. but there was one thing he had to ask, one more thing that perhaps should shed some light as to why he had woken up so bare before his friend. For that was nothing but a blank within his mind. "Forgive me but I must ask however, what is it that happened between us last night? I beg you my friend to be honest with me for I remember nothing."

[Corneliun]

There was a brief flicker of a smile on the face of the mixed blood, his heart having lifted with the knowledge that Valo was once more smiling. But then an important question came to mind, and one that Corneliun was in no place of escaping the joys of answering it. He leaned back slightly, running his fingers briefly through his hair as he tried to summon up not only the memory but the best way to tell him. But for the meanwhile it was simply remembering. And so as he did remember he simply spoke it out loud, a form of confirmation for his aching mind.

“Where to begin…” his brow creased as he thought “I remember we left the Pillars of Dust.”
As he spoke he recalled the scene in his mind, the play back of the events trickling through, blurred with alcohol and its consumption, “We staggered for an age as two drunken fools, lost in alcohol. Though I guess our heads can already tell us that. We sung and danced underneath the moon and star and collapsed upon the sand. And then we-“
It was at this point that Corneliun Frik turned a fine shade of red, a deep blush having set itself upon his pale skin. He remembered now, but he was unable to bring himself a straight answer “Stuff happened.”

He could feel the taste of him against his, the gentle scent of the sea, the power of struggle that the both men fought for upon the sand, to see who would dominate who. And it was Corneliun who won, who managed to control the squirming artist before surrendering to indulgence. He remembered how the artist became so fragile in his hold, but craved him simultaneously. Corneliun turned away, hiding his face in his hands in an attempt to regain composure. He swallowed “And after that we, we uh, came back here. I remember taking my coat and sandals off, and then collapsing into bed, then that was it. I was gone. Fast asleep. So whatever you did in that time my friend is a mystery to me. But I guess in your drunken state that you decided it was a good idea to make yourself appear so... so… so natural?”

[Valo]

Before the eyes of the artist, Corneliun turned the very how of Valo's own hair. A bright red that had no - very little, but for the purposes of this depiction one may safely assume that no such tendency existed - tenancy towards either the orange, nor the purple of pigment spectrum. A red that would make both elusive purples and burning oranges, but none of them would really be true, nor perfect, nor vibrant. Thus it was a red with no base, a permanent red that was simply red. No doubt about it. If he was to choose a particular pigment among his many paints, Valo would use Cadmium Red and use it straight from the tube to paint this freeze frame in time. Corneliun perhaps was even more embarrassed than he was. The pigmentation in his skin was too vibrant to avert the eyes of the artist, even if he was in his most drunken or hangover of states.

“Stuff happened.” he mumbled.

"Stuff?" echoed the artist in apparent confusion.The entropy of shattered remains of memories that floated so carelessly within the void of last night's drunkenness, made very little sense to him. The redness within Corn of course caused him to speculate the worst and the most embarrassing, but details is what he was after. And he would pull those out of his friend one way or another.

Corneliun turned away, hiding his face in his hands in an attempt to regain composure. He swallowed “And after that we, we uh, came back here. I remember taking my coat and sandals off, and then collapsing into bed, then that was it. I was gone. Fast asleep. So whatever you did in that time my friend is a mystery to me. But I guess in your drunken state that you decided it was a good idea to make yourself appear so... so… so natural?”

In all honesty Valo was no longer surprised by this news. Suffice to say, it wasn't the first time he had sunken a little too far with someone when under influence of this vile liquid. A deep regret in his chest, that stung and burned a little, that Corneliun had to be the man he'd end up in such a difficult situation with. After all they had been best friends and it was that which initially sparked flames of panic within him. But in his calmer state, for Valo indeed shifted into calmness, he simply allowed the words to wash over him for he was no longer surprised. Yet within that regret lingered the seeds of something else, the enjoyment of that feeling of Corneliun's body wrapped in Valo's naked flash.

Valo's hand was on his shoulder now and the artist shifted, inching closer to his friend. A gentle tug on his shoulder. A manner that spoke of wishing to see the man's face again, to speak eye to eye. "I... umm." a moment's hesitation. A moment of self composure as a prerequisite of words, a little calmer and a little colder, rolling from his lips. "I do apologise." he spoke finally leaning over Corneliun just a little. If the man was to rise just then, he'd no doubt find himself awkwardly propped beside Valo's chest. But that wasn't on the artist's mind now. He sincerely wanted to apologise to the man for al the trouble he's caused. "It won't repeat, I promise."

[Corneliun]

“I would like to say it happens,” Corneliun inhaled after a moment of contemplating the words of Valo “But… I have yet to hear of such a situation to exist outside that of books.”
He still held his face in his hands, a deep breath whistling through the gaps as he tried to compose himself. The images of the night before however remained burning in his memory. He could remember it clearly, and through the memory he found himself craving to try once more, to see if it was as sweet as it was on the sand, or if it truly was the influence of alcohol.

He felt the gentle tug of Valo upon his shoulder, the shifting of the artist as he closed in, leaning ever so slightly over. Corneliun glanced up, his eyes growing sharp and then soft as he brought the man’s features into focus. His cheeks were still red as he tried to push down his thoughts and cravings. So easy it would have been to simply reach up his hand and pull the man in close. So easy it would have been to unleash himself upon the man. But why did he not? Fear, worry, a nagging that he would be rejected or that it would be untrue. That it was not the normal state for two men. He frowned for a moment, his ears twitching as he sat up or tried to at least. The expression remained as so, his eyes narrowing as he felt his neck stiffen.

If anything it gave him a brief moment to think, to remember Valo’s words, the subtleties that existed and the hesitation that was there. As he found himself against Valo’s chest, his rise halted, the mixed blood stopped and simply did nothing but absorb what was there. It seemed so calm at the moment, the rise and fall of breathing, a sway of air that filled the silence. Corneliun let out a sigh, his mind growing still from the worries that had previously held him. His eyes slid shut, listening only to the motions of his friend. It was perhaps now that he was beginning to realise how sluggish his mind was still, how rung with the notions of the hang over and the exhaustion brought on by a sudden rise in the levels of stress.
“So what now?” he asked gently, his head still remaining where it was “I mean, what do you want to do?”

Of course, Corneliun already knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to simply lay back and let the world go by, to allow himself to find his state of calm and also his good friend to find that same level. He wanted the day to be a day of relaxing, not outlandish adventuring mixed with high amounts of drinking. He was certain the men had more than enough of that last night. But there was also the nagging thought for a little experimentation, to dare himself to reach out and try what he was uncertain of.