Red Wine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
judgementor) wrote2019-10-16 08:54 pm
judgementor) wrote2019-10-16 08:54 pm[Aefenglom IC Inbox]
*beep*
*beep*
*beep*
*beep*
judgementor) wrote2019-10-16 08:54 pm
no subject
This. This is why he said they shouldn't do this. That it couldn't happen. His restraint briefly falters and a flash of annoyance and stinging disappointment escapes into the bond between them.]
Alright.
[Fucking-- damn it. He sits up and scrapes his hand through his hair.]
Is this a game for you, Steak? Just something to pass the time? I don't appreciate being toyed with. Either it means something or it doesn't, and you're going to decide right now.
[Because this isn't them. It isn't how they are... but maybe it could be, and maybe Red Wine would like that.]
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Fear. A cloud of it which keeps that knot and the ache in his heart from getting names, because maybe it's just better for them to stay the way they always were. A wordless, nameless something. More than enemies, rivals, friends but refusing to be family.
It's easier to tell Bloody Mary that Red Wine is the Soul he will always stand by than it is to tell Red Wine himself, and why is that? ]
You...
[ For once, the word is a quiet breath, head bowed and hands digging into the flesh of his tentacles. Gods, Red Wine makes him so angry. It's a switch that flips, each and every time; his demands, his needless flourishes and touches, his complaints and insistences.
And, for once, he remembers his Master Attendant in a moment of his youth, a moment's downtime in all their work, glowering at the retreating back of his fiancée and complaining to Steak. She infuriates me! She's so reckless, so stupid. Why am I to wed her?
Steak had simply shook his head and pointed out that they were still on the clock, that this wasn't the time for his Attendant's personal problems. Because his Master Attendant was an idiot, unable to see the obvious truth of the way his cheeks flushed every time he began complaining, or to understand that he worried about his fiancée in ways he worried about no one else — not his men, nor his Food Soul.
And Steak's always been so much like his Attendant, hasn't he?
His shoulders tremble, fingers curling into his tentacles until the limbs ache, and Steak huffs out a laugh despite himself.
He's an idiot. ]
Fine. [ There was only ever one real answer, wasn't there? The one which was buried under two centuries of bickering, the one which necessitated his journey back to the Countess' palace, his suggestion that they bond, all of it.
It's just been easier to leave it unsaid. ]
—You mean more to me than just a promise I made to my Master Attendant. You always have. [ You better appreciate this, Red Wine, because this is hard, this has every time-ingrained instinct of what they are screaming in protest.
He'll take the loss here. For once. ]
Why would I waste my time on something meaningless? [ Just saying. He has so many other things he could be doing instead of kissing someone he doesn't care to be kissing. ]
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Because isn't it easier to simply go on as they were? He could kick himself for every time he'd let Steak get that close. For kissing him.
But Steak has been there for him from the very beginning of all this. From the first changes that were pressed upon them and through every attempt of Red Wine's to push him away. And he had tried, even after they had linked themselves together in a way that made it impossible.
He hears exactly what he wants to hear, only realising it's what he needs to hear when the words leave Steak's mouth. He looks down at his hands, twisting pale fingers together before one hand holds the other own to stop the fidgeting. His eyes half-lid, a wry smile coming to his lips.]
You wouldn't, would you. [That is something he will grudgingly concede.] And you know--... I wouldn't have stayed for so long just because of a promise.
[Not if he really hated him. Not if he really couldn't stand to be around him.]
... I am glad you're here, Steak. I want you to know that.
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They liked fighting, whether it was evil or each other. But now, here in Aefenglom, Steak watches Red Wine turn into the one thing Steak had always assured him would be impossible, watches him splinter and fracture as each month something new and terrible befalls him.
Their fights, nowadays, come with venom and broken spirits, and even Steak is forced to look within at what all of it means.
And, perhaps, it means the same thing his Master Attendant's anger did when Madame tried to offer herself as bait to a murderer.
He scowls as Red Wine replies, not because he hates those words but because they're new. Raw. Unfamiliar. They're nothing he's accustomed to hearing from the bastard, and his face doesn't know what to do.
(But, if he's honest with himself, his heart lightens, just a touch.) ]
Come here.
[ He unwinds his hands from his tentacles and lifts his head from where it had steadfastly been glowering at his lap, reaching out to wrap an arm around Red Wine's shoulder and yank him flush against his side.
It isn't gentle, but then, they are still themselves, after all. ]
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It's awkward, and he expects it to end right there. Steak getting up and leaving would not have been entirely unanticipated, even after everything that had been said. But instead...]
... Fine.
[Something lightens, just a touch, and he doesn't complain too much about the rough way he's handled. It's how they are, after all. He leans against Steak's side and shoots a brief look up at him, something small and puzzled crossing his face for a moment before it's gone just as quickly as it appeared.]
So... what now.
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Then again, he didn't even think out where things would go after he'd resolved to try kissing Red Wine. So. Maybe he isn't the brightest. ]
... I don't know.
[ So maybe he'll just admit that much. He has no idea what now, but it feels right to have Red Wine pressed against him like this.
Once upon a time, he would have said it was just the bond.
Today, he isn't so sure. ]