Begun Again [Seven]

[Victor Lark]

Victor’s drink spilled down the front of his shirt as he hastily tried to gulp down the last of the contents of his glass, far from happy to leave two silvers of ale undrunk. But even he could understand that it was best that they leave at that hour, and he found the pull of Seven’s progress difficult to resist. The thing that attracted him most to the pale man was the very same thing that would have irritated him in another person: that he dared to lead, and at the same time gave such an impression of weakness. He did not have the energy to pay much attention to the drunken ramblings, but still he tried to follow close despite his tendency to lag, encumbered by the weight of his trunk and the pain in his well-used feet.

The identical torchlights and endless stone corridors, though, gave rise to a different sort of frustration. In Ravok, he was master of the streets and canals and secret passages; he knew every corner of the city and was never lost. He was finding it difficult to memorize the way, in his haze, and was ultimately forced to depend on Seven’s guidance. Victor was not fond of feeling helpless. Still, he let himself laugh. It was easy to laugh, when Seven laughed.

And soon enough, the dark closed around him. As a human, none of his senses were very profound, but he had always thought himself a keen eye. His sight was his only hold on the world, where even the sixth sense of empathy and emotion often escaped him. Its absence only heightened those feelings of vulnerability. Seven would be able to see his candid, muddled countenance quickly change between mirth and vexation. Where before he could echo that incessant laughter, Victor only managed a faltering grin. It was not any sudden sobriety, but rather the height of intoxication, that left him temperamental.

His head turned at the mention of a lantern, as if he might catch a glimpse of its shattered remains, and he sighed when he saw nothing. He wanted to see Seven’s expression. He could hear laughter, but he could not tell if it was genuine, or at his expense. He stumbled as he was pulled through the empty blackness, and barely found his balance when he was stopped again. “No, I can’t see anything!” he answered, trying to put a smile in his voice. He dropped his trunk and it sounded loudly against the stone floor.

Then there was only the sound of the Seven’s giggling, the smell of his breath, the feel of his warmth. At the mention of a bed and the notion of sleep, Victor wearily removed his belt and scabbard and threw them towards his trunk. He thought of refusing, but he did not want to be polite, and he very much did want to sleep in a bed. “Thank you. Where...” He laughed at a thought, searching for some reciprocation. “Where is it? Perhaps it is big enough for us both?” Then his soiled-again shirt dropped to the floor. For a moment he wondered how much Seven could see as his searching hand followed his pitiful secondary senses and found of an arm, took hold of a shoulder.

A sudden impulse rose in his gut, like a predator in ambush. His grasp rose blindly to the jaw above the shoulder and he held it roughly, wildly, so that he could find those too-soft lips with his own. The swift, brief surrender to drunken intrigue and lust lingered barely a moment. He thought his bottom lip caught on a little fang as he tore away without relinquishing his hold. “Tell me what you feel,” came the brash whisper. His tone was low, almost begging. His eyes darted around as if the frenzy would help him see. His lashes gave a familiar tremble, and he staggered.

[Seven Xu]

Like Victor, Seven had taken to discarding his worn clothing aside to prepare for an inevitable and restful sleep. No reply would come when Victor suggested they share the bed although his heart did seem to stop to catch its own breath momentarily before it pushed most of his blood back to his cheeks. The bed was large enough for two, if neither preferred to sleep on their backs. Seven’s hands only left Victor long enough for the thin layers of cloth that separated them to melt away into the inky darkness before he found his sides again and thin fingers dragged across his naked torso in a continued effort to guide him to his bed.

He saw the look in Victor’s eyes, the slow approach of his mouth to close the gap between their breathless lips. He could have pulled away, he could have stopped but he had no reason to. He wanted this. It had been a thought that poisoned his mind, clouded his judgment and now had manifested itself in a brief exchange of breath and touch and the sweet taste of Victor’s bottom lip. Seven wouldn’t close his eyes, incapable of missing a moment of those dark fluttering lashes and wisps of black hair that mingled with white. Fang met flesh and the hot pepper sting of weak spider-kin venom would linger in the human’s mouth, innocent and bittersweet. It couldn’t be helped, not in his state of mind. Seven’s voice was reduced and tentative, as if he were afraid to form his thoughts out loud. “What I feel?” he repeated, long digits appreciating the feel of warm skin beneath them, flesh that was not his own but was there, was living, so close and smelling of that perfumed soap.

He did not want to leave the bold gesture unrequited, but he knew that the dizziness brought on by the alcohol was as fleeting as the feelings it sometimes conjured. The memory of the hot sting of ink being forced beneath his skin drew attention to his shoulder as if it had happened only hours – and not years - before; a reminder of how fickle the drink could leave someone. Seven’s lips hung close, their breath mingling and the hot smell of alcohol overwhelming before he forced himself away, his chin from the ragged grasp of a tired hand, to sit down on his bed and to drag Victor assuredly with him. Seven longed for their thighs to tangle, to hug him close and to taste the impossibly warm and soft skin that hugged Victor’s neck – and he would, if Victor would have him when they sobered – but his will power remained steadfast through wavering consciousness.

“I feel happy.” The final response was simple enough, though his breathy tone carried a profound level of sincerity. Seven laid down, choosing the side of the bed not pressed against the wall in fear of Victor possibly falling onto the floor through the night. “You can stay here until you are well; I wouldn’t mind the company,” was what came out of Seven’s mouth, though his desperate, drunken mind begged the man to never leave. No protest would ever come if Victor decided he’d rather stay in the tiny stone apartment with the halfblood.

“I’m sorry about the lack of light; I could light a fire in the hearth, if you wish.” Seven’s feet fussed with his leather boots for some time before finally and victoriously pushing them off. They clattered to the floor, one by one, and his bare toes wriggled into the biting roughness of his linen sheets. It wasn’t long before he was examining Victor again, as if trying to make sense of their sudden and mutual attraction. Perhaps not everything was meant to be quantified and propped up against reasoning and logic. “It will get really hot in here, if I do.” A lagged warning reflected the blissful smile that had crept unknowingly onto his face. It was then that his hand searched for the closest of Victor’s and he offered a playful, but reassuring squeeze before lifting it to his mouth and pressing those tired, curious digits against the warmth of his pale lips. The next question had been burning, nagging at him, and when it found his voice his heart raced in anticipation of the response.

“Will you still like me when you’re sober?”

[Victor Lark]

Happy. Victor was satisfied with that answer. His trembling face softened into a slight smile and he took his place beside Seven on the bed. As he pressed his heated face onto the cool pillow, his confused mind welcomed the burn of venom as the familiar tingle of a well-made kiss. It temporarily distracted him from the countless other pains on his body and made him wonder what bliss tasted like. Was he happy? Victor could not be certain. He was not sure he knew what happiness was. He was not unhappy, at least. He was glad to be in a bed, beside a friend, beneath a roof. And he was too tired to be troubled by anything else. Maybe that was happiness.

He found his head nodding at distant words, but they bounced fruitlessly from his ears as sleep began to pull him closer to oblivion. He might have slipped away entirely, if he had not been woken again by the ache of his bending elbow and the heat of Seven’s breath on his hand. A single exhale of a laugh erupted from between his teeth and he reached to return the kiss to the thin fingers between his own, but he did not have the strength. He was, however, able to lift a single finger and press it against the nose in front of him.

“Maybe.”

It might have been a symptom of the ale’s silliness, or it might have been the closest he could come to a promise. Victor would never tell. He was still the same man as he had been all night; the petty desire to stir a rise still remained in the half-conscious reply. But he would never witness the reaction. His unyielding fingers held fast to Seven’s and, with a grinning sigh, he succumbed to sleep.

[Archon]

Illumination of Development Victor Lark +5 Seduction +3 Interrogation +3 Persuasion +2 Rhetoric +1 Intimidation +1 Singing Lores: Guards assume wrong, Symenestra (Basic), Using ale to loosen lips Other: -1 Gold Miza, -8 Silver Mizas, -6 Copper Mizas for the bathing, drinking, and eating Care to see more? : Seduction experience for the flirting and seduction, Interrogation experience for carefully digging for answers, Persuasion experience for the subtle manipulations, Rhetoric experience for the conversation, Intimidation experience for snapping at the bathing attendant, and Singing experience for the drunken singing. Dra-Seven +5 Seduction +3 Interrogation +3 Persuasion +2 Rhetoric +2 Subterfuge Lores: Lying on the spot (Poor), Using Touch (Basic), Syliras (Moderate) Other: -4 Silver Mizas for bathing/cleaning +tip Care to see more? : Seduction experience for the coy flirting, Interrogation experience for the subtle game of questions, Persuasion experience for gaining Victor's trust, Rhetoric experience for the conversation, and Subterfuge experience for the little lies. Notes: A very enjoyable thread to read. I like watching the relationship blossom between you two. I look forward to seeing where it goes.