driftfleet | mingle a little Mor tonight

You-[His blush increases tenfold, face reddening as bright as a poppy. Drawing back, he rubs at his mouth, debating the merits and consequences of slapping him and deciding against it. He coughs instead, glancing away, hand falling to his neck.] Of course.

[The idea is preposterous, anyway. Who would be interested in him? Definitely not a man at least five years his senior.] Well. I must look like an idiot, then. I'm afraid I'll have to demand my list of flowers after that. As payback, of course.

[It's so tempting to make a move anyway]

But of course. [He...feels a little bad now, but he can't exactly go back on the statement now. Let it sit, and maybe later he'd see how Mattias responded. He wonders if maybe the man isn't quite sure of his own feelings, or just inexperienced]

Let's see now...I already told you one of them. I believe this one is cornflower. These small purple ones are a variety of lupine. The yellow are mustard plants, of course.

[The blush fades and with it, Felix's transgressions are forgiven and forgotten. In fact, Mattias sidles closer to him, peering into the basket as he matches names to color.]

What strange names. [Mustard plants in particular.] I wonder who came up with them.

[Something he says more to himself than to Felix, gaze lifting to peer at the man curiously.] Which do you need more of?

The cornflower are eluding me somewhat. They tend to blend in with the shade, I think.

[He gives Mattias a sideways look, disarmed a little by the shift in attitude]

Are you offering to help?

[He's already moving off in the field to look for cornflower when the question causes pause. He looks back, back half-bent.]

Of course. [He sounds confused until-oh. That's it. Chuckling:] You didn't think I was serious about payment, did you? I would've helped you either way. Nothing better to do.

[He's very vaguely taken aback by that because...yes, he kind of did.

He answers with a cautious tone - ] I...well...I wasn't doing this for my own amusement. You may not consider it a payment, but I am doing this for pay.

[The implication being that if Mattias helps, he might be due a portion of that]

Edited 2015-03-14 07:15 (UTC)

Felix. [He regards him sympathetically, though he's trying not to laugh. It's sweet, in a way, how concerned he is over this. Almost cute.] I don't want your money. I wanted the names, and you gave those to me.

[Speaking of which. He bends down and plucks out a flower, beaming as he turns back.] See? Cornflower.

[There's a few more plants around it and he picks those too, gathering them in the crook of his arm as he speaks.] I've lived in a surplus of money most of my life. I've frankly got little interest in it.

Really? [The word carries multiple tones - disbelief, suspicion, and curiosity among them. He isn't sure what to think. His hunger for knowledge and general demeanor certainly fit the profile of sheltered privilege, though the rest did not. He's reminded, somewhat uncomfortably, of Shannon for a brief moment. The blond hair makes it worse]

[He follows Mattias hesistantly, watching him with a hesitant, guarded expression] I recall the way you were looking into that shop window on the last planet.

[Which isn't specifically an accusation. Just a fact that suddenly makes a bit more sense under the information, and suddenly he's curious] Are you nobility of some sort?

[He chuckles in the way those with shame do, snapping the stem of another cornflower.] I am. I thought it was fairly obvious.

[From the way he dresses to the way he walks, it haunts his every step. A heritage that tracks him like the best dog. Back going rigid, he adopts a perfect air of nonplussed apathy, gaze filled with the trademark aristocratic disdain that still sometimes slips through.] I am Mattias Larnaca, sole heir to the House Larnaca of Oramos. [He relaxes then, showering cornflower into Felix's basket.] It's one of the most prestigious houses in the city. Steeped in [He adopts a lower voice, mocking a booming, but foreign, tone.] centuries of loyalty to our master, Orphoros!

[The voice is dropped with another chuckle, glancing sheepishly back at Felix.] My uncle's way of saying it. Oh, he must be terribly disappointed in me now. [Back to fishing for flowers, he falls into muttering.] First I like men, now I'm a traitor. His whole head must be bald.

[He had wondered, but other than certain mannerisms, Mattias didn't have many of the earmarks of aristocracy that he would usually suspect. Not much for ego or haughtiness. He didn't act like someone who believed they were genuinely better that others, nor terribly fussy about his life on the ship. Compared to Felix, he'd been rather quietly accepting of the whole thing, and Felix's veneer of nobility was exactly that.

He's been nearly about to ask more about Mattias' house when he catches that parting comment, and freezes in place on the way to pick up another lupine.

Well, wasn't this perfect? He'd been uncertain if the reticence had been more than lack of experience, so he'd written off his own interest as humor. Which meant he couldn't recant that right here and now.]

Does the idea of disappointing him bother you?

[He's never really had experience the idea of wanting someone he cared about to be proud of him purely for the sake of it. It had a lot more to do with survival.

Quietly, he comes up alongside Mattias again and offers the basket for the flowers.]

But, as to the former, there's nothing for you be ashamed about.

Hm? [He laughs, depositing the flowers with that constant smile.] Oh, no. Uncle Martell was quite accepting. His only fault was his obsession with continuing the family tree. My orientation simply made it harder for him to arrange for a child. I was fortunate in that regard.

[At the time, it had surprised him. It felt so second-nature to remain hidden that being accepted had felt obtuse and foreign.

Smile waning, he wades ahead, using the excuse of flower-hunting to hide it's fading presence.] I'm afraid my concerns for my family exceed the realm of disappointment.

[News had probably gotten back to Oramos by now. The lost Larnaca found as a traitor. A heretic. Questions would be asked, his family brought in for questioning. Had they known anything about it? Were they working with him? Mattias plays out the interrogation in his mind's eye, mouth set in a thin line, fingers pinched and twirling the stem of a stem of a flower.] I fear I've made a severe miscalculation back home.

[In his mind's eye he can see them hanging, limp feet swaying with every breeze. Or perhaps they'd be put on display, the family of the first heretic, impaled through the heart outside the athenaeum. It didn't matter the method, only that he would be the cause of it.]

Ah, but it's best to stray from dreary subjects when the day is so pleasant, don't you think? [With a forced smile, he tips his head back to soak in the sun. As if to further prove his joy, his spins in place, arms outstretched and welcoming, before tripping back in a spray of flowers. That, at least, pulls forth a genuine laugh.]

Edited (WORD CHOICE) 2015-03-17 19:36 (UTC)

[The abrupt shift in mood makes even Felix blink in surprise and draws a wan smile onto his lips. He's not a stranger to shoving away thoughts of the unpleasant under a more presentable mask, though he's not entirely sure the sudden cheer was completely fake. The man was remarkably hard to read sometimes, for someone so open.

He shook his head. It didn't make much sense. Whatever Mattias had done, Felix doubted he'd done so intentionally. As far as he was concerned, Mattias likely didn't have a malicious bone in his body, so he was at a loss to imagine what the man would have done to brand himself a traitor. Then again, malice could have little to do with it. He'd once been branded a traitor for actions not his own, and the memory brings with it distant echos of pain, fear, and madness.]

As you wish.

[Felix moves closer and considers for a moment offering a hand to help his crewmate up, but instead settles down on the grass next to him, setting the basket aside.]

Is there anything you can tell me about your home that isn't dreary, then? You have me curious.

Edited 2015-03-18 20:55 (UTC)

Something that isn't dreary? [He laughs, then hums in thought.]

What a difficult question. I suppose there's the smell. Nothing like this. [He gestures with a flower.] It was much more... manmade. Like a carnival of spices. Turmeric, cinnamon, nutmeg, saffron and ginger. The smell of homecooked meals just—everywhere.

[Despite himself, there's a smile growing as he breathes in deep. It tremors and twitches, pulling against resistance, but eventually broadens. He remembers one last thing. Propping himself up, he turns to Felix, eyes wide and manic.] And the dancing! Ha! How could I forget about that? [He shakes his head.] Our dances are by far the best in the world. Far better than this world's, too. It was bolder. A combination of... bullfighting and flirtation. Heavy footwork, clapping-[He laughs, blushing as he snakes his hips from side to side.]-a lot of swinging hips. Oh, it was fantastic. Uncle used to say it was the only way I could get someone to swoon.

[He's laughing at the thought, sitting up fully with his hands wrapped around his knees.] I'm not sure how much I believe him, but I was definitely more popular at parties than I was outside of them.

[The way Mattias describes it he can get a sense of it easily, just as he can see how that enthusiasm and manic energy would lend itself to a magnetic presence on the dancefloor. And he's absolutely sure Mattias' Uncle was more or less correct in his assessment. Swaying hips, indeed. Two seconds of that and Felix has to side a hitch in his breath by smoothing a lock of hair from his face.

The fact that he has no idea only makes him more seductive. It makes him want to show Mattias what he inspires as much it inspires slightly darker desires to stain that purity simply because he can.]

I can imagine. You're good at commanding attention without much effort. And people do tend to enjoy the company of those who are truly enjoying themselves.

[It's probably why he hasn't left the Starstruck by now. He's aware he's allowed, but something more than the diversion of Mor has stalled him.

Nonchalantly, he crosses his legs at the ankles and leans back on the palms of his hands.]

I'd like to see you dance sometime. Perhaps you could even teach me.

[His tone is soft. It's a subtle flirtation. The kind people who aren't really looking for it don't tend to notice. He can't quite help himself.]

Teach you? [Wide-eyed, he cocks his head. Warmth trims the edges of his chest, creeping in with a smile that's both flattered and fond.] It'd be my pleasure.

[The warmth doesn't leave. It settles like a feather, tickling him until he chuckles.] I'll have to go gentle on you, of course. And you'll have to accept the woman's part but... [He trails off with a smile, drumming his fingers against his chin.] You don't seem like someone foreign to the ballroom. I have faith.

[He's teasing and it relaxes him. Chases the last bit of tension from his shoulder like smoke. Out of everything, this is what he misses the most. The freedom of small jabs and smiles. The delight of dancing and the joy of sharing it.

He's happy and the thought strikes him like lightning.] And of course I'd be happy to dance for you. Though perhaps when we're on more solid ground.

[He waves a hand, pulling away from his knees.] But that's for another time. I've told you of the smells of my home. Now you tell me the sights of yours.

[Felix smiles softly, a genuine expression full of warmth far different than the blinding clarity of the kinds he used to charm other people. He's not the most graceful of people, but if there are steps he can learn, it may very well be something he can manage. Trying and failing wouldn't be such a terrible thing, if only to be in rhythm with another person. It's something he can have even if Mattias can't accept the kind of affection he'd offer]

That's true, though it's been a long time since I've been to a proper ball. And I suspect it will be longer still.

[Knowing Mattias, he'd half expected a question in response, but it still makes his heart lurch uncomfortably. Home. What was that to him? Was it the fragrant gardens of Nephele where he'd been born? Was it the dark corners of Mélusine where he'd once been a prostitute? Or was it the gilded, labyrinthine halls of the Mirador that he'd been exiled from? Perhaps it was all of that, but which could he tell Mattias.

His expression falters slightly, becoming a bit more sober, the smile strained at the edges with longing and pain.]

It's hard to remember sometimes. I was in Paradisa for more than four years, you know. [Which is a partial lie. Some parts of his life are quite fresh in his mind] But I lived even longer than that inside the Mirador, the stronghold and palace at the center of Mélusine. It was an old place, with additions built onto it in pieces for centuries, so that nearly every corridor and room was built of different styles, and interiors of every color like jewels strewn into the darkness. There aren't any windows there, you see. But...my favorite spot was always the battlements at night. I could look down at see the entire city spread out beneath me, glittering with lights. The spires and domes of the cathedrals. The moon reflected in the water of the river. It was very peaceful.

It sounds beautiful. I'm jealous. [His fingers fall to the grass, idly twisting at the stem of a crushed flower.]

Oramos—my home—didn't have rivers. Or the moon. I had to imagine it all. [He laughs, tipping his head back.] It's funny. When things got too heavy at home, I'd leave. Just... walk for hours to the limits of the city. We have these underground lakes, you see. Oramos is a huge crater—[he gestures a wide circle with his hands]—with all the lakes on the edges. It's where we get our water from. [But he waves a hand, dismissing the fact.] Anyway, I would spend hours crossing the city trying to get to these lakes just so I could imagine it. What darkness looked like. How it reflected. [Again, he chuckles, ducking his head sheepishly.] Then I come here and... it's a sight everyone's seen. So I'm stuck here, looking like an idiot, marveling at this sight everyone's had all their lives.

[Shaking his head, he scrapes teeth over his bottom lip, canting his head back towards Felix.] That's why I ask all these questions, you know. I want to experience all I've missed.

[It would be so easy to lean over and kiss those lips that it almost physically hurts to restrain himself from it. Maybe more so because Mattias has no idea what thoughts he's inspiring.]

Someone who asks questions is never an idiot. It's perfectly natural for you to wonder. And we are all of us out of our depth in one way or another.

[He has to turn his gaze away from the man's face in order to school the train of his thoughts, and focuses instead on the horizon]

Besides, I think your city sounds quite lovely in it's own way.

[The idea does make him glance back to Mattias, the puzzle drowning out the more unwelcome ideas]

There was really never any night in your world?

That's kind of you. [It's an opinion he doesn't share. His city is a pit of injustice parading around as religion. It's laws, it's rules, it's structure-everything about it feels broken. No, Oramos was nothing more than a thief, stealing the body, minds and souls of its inhabitants.

He's grateful for the opportunity to think of something else. Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair.] Once, we did. The ancient records claim the world was complete then. Much like this-[he gestures around them]-with forests, grass, trees. But then the gods fought and Orphoros, the sun, banished his sister to the world he left scorched.

[With a steady breath, his fingers return to the grass once more, fidgeting with the blades.] In short, our god hid the night from the rest of the world. Now, we live in constant daylight in a desert of his own making, fighting in persistent wars.

[He sighs.] It's a dreary place. Not like here. Or—Mélusine, was it?

[His expression takes a turn for the wry. Mattias seems rather content to spend his energy on hating his city, to the point that it seems far worse than any other world. Even this charade of a planet.]

No place is perfect. Especially not Mélusine. Oh, there are parts of it that I miss. And people. It can often be a dark and violent place. Our wars these days are all political. Full of back-handed diplomacy and subterfuge.

[He gestures and stares down at his hands, where the tattoos and symbols of his place in all blazed bright as day. They were nothing but reminders now that he'd been stripped of his title.]

The chair of the Lord Protector is much improved from the old days, but it is still somewhat removed from the city it protects. The city is rotten far to it's core in some places, but they don't see it. Or refuse to, because the effort of dealing with it isn't considered worth the risk.

[He knows far more about that part of the city than most because he came from it. That seedy underbelly had been his life, and he still returned to it from time to time in the hidden brothels and bathhouses of the Arcane.]

I've been to other parts of the world and found them more appealing in many ways. The gardens of Nephele in Troia, for example. They were more beautiful than I could ever describe. I stayed there for only a few months, but they weren't home to me.

[The Celebrants would have been more than happy to have him stay as long as he felt like it, but they wanted him for his inherent power and his native grasp of Marathine that no scholar there had. He was still a pawn there, place of birth or no]

My point is, distance from it may change your view on the matter.

Why, Felix. It almost sounds like you're scolding me! [His words hide a laugh that doesn't quite come out, bouncing instead from syllable to syllable.] But you may have a point. Even now, I miss things I never even favored. Chariot races, bullfights—[he smiles faintly]—my old uniform.

[A shrug.]

Small things, but if I could see them one last time... [It's just another road to the same location. Another thread of thought that leads to the same spool of consequences never considered. His smile flirts with something sadder before he forces it back, raising his head once more.]

Not that I regret giving them up. The sights I've seen during my travels, Felix—[Hesitantly, he touches his arm as if asking for permission, still uncertain if their relationship extends to touching.]—I wish I could show you. I think you'd love Renacht. It has the most magnificent library. Glass-domed and glass-floored so you can see the city above and the river beneath.

[He pauses, then pulls back, blushing lightly in realization.] Though that might be an average sight for you. I must admit, I'm fairly new to this wandering business. You seem quite the expert.

[He makes a soft sound of amusement, lips drawn together in a thin smile. Felix isn't at all offended by the statement, though it does make him wonder how worldly he really is. Does it count when almost every step of those journeys was never his idea? ]

Not as much as you might imagine, Mattias. I lived most of my life in that city and knew it like the back of my hand, but there were plenty of corners that would have been a stranger to me. [Mildmay had showed him that much. The secrets of Mélusine were not his alone.]

I experienced more than I would have ever have imagined in Paradisa, both terrible and wonderful, and I will admit that makes me immune to certain degrees of surprise from time to time. [It's something he's come to regret and something that all long term residents of the castle began to wonder eventually. Was nothing special? Were they completely numb to their own suffering? Was the constant toll of the castle on their souls eating away at whatever it was that made them who they were?]

But, there it always something that can surprise you. [Such as, in this instance, the random companionship of a man he's known barely a month and the vague fondness he feels as a result]

Renacht sounds beyond lovely. I got rather used to the immense library in the castle, but it did not have glass walls.

Oh, these weren't simple glass walls. They were panes cut to the shape of peacocks, all curling and folding up to the top of the—[Abruptly, he stops, caught mid-gesture with his hands. Sheepishly, he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.]—I should stop before I humiliate myself. As a child, I used to dream of it. To this day I still can't believe I stepped inside. [Shaking his head, he laughs again.] Ah, but there's nothing quite as shameful as childhood dreams, is there? Perhaps when I'm more prepared to suffer the embarrassment I'll tell you, Felix.

For now—[Arms and legs drawn out, he stretches, then flops to recline on his side, facing Felix with bright eyes.]—can you tell me more about this castle? I've heard mention of it a couple of times, but I'm still quite ignorant about it.

[Felix gives Mattias a bemused half-smile at the loving description of a place he'd increasingly love to see, if only so he could be treated to the other man's enthusiastic commentary. He supposes that Mattias is right, although the only reason his childhood dreams are shameful are because they're indicative of the truth of his past. He and Joline had fancied themselves royalty or siblings in a loving family - whatever fiction they could concoct to forget the reality that any mistake could mean pain or death at the hands of their Keeper.]

It's difficult not to talk about it, after that amount of time. [He sort of regrets that fact, but he can't exactly forget what turned out be a large portion of his adult life.]

[He glances aside at Mattias again, but the sight of him laying like that next to him only makes the earlier pang of desire redouble, and he has to look away, clearing his throat.] It's hard to know where to start, to be quite honest. Pick any one aspect, and I could go on for days. Or that's what it feels like...

[Mattias laughs lightly.] Felix! It's hard to pick an aspect when I know none of them! But fine.

[He pats the grass between them.] We'll start easy. How long were you there?

mingle a little Mor tonight

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