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I'm sorry. [It's said at nearly the same time.] I-I know how it seems. I didn't—I didn't mean for it... Things have gotten complicated. I—

[He's gonna keep floundering, please stop him.]

[he just... reaches forward, and... covers his mouth.

shush now. shushshhhh.]

[O-oh. W-well... okay... I mean there's still some muffled garbling but eventually it dies down and he's... blinking expectantly at Robin.

What's going on.]

[ssshhh. he's thinking.

because his first instinct is to be intensely jealous, and that's inappropriate. he has to quell the biting, kicking thing in his guts. he has no right to Mattias' business other than that of a concerned friend. it would be hypocritical of him.

still, he's already guessing who it was, and hoping that he's wrong.

with a little breath, he moves his hand.]

Who was it?

A... [He nearly says "friend". No, that's not right. That could never describe them.] ... Someone I knew from home. We—We have a history.

It's Oren, isn't it.

[he doesn't look... mad, but the look he gives him is rather flat, the line delivered like he expects it to cut through the stuttering and get right to the heart of things.]

I—[He's about to say yes but something stalls his tongue. Alarmed, he leans forward.]—You know of him? You haven't... Robin, tell me you haven't spoken to him.

[...he's done a little bit more than talk to him, which is why he stalls halfway through opening his mouth to start a word. he ends up closing it again, looking away. and then looking back, holding up a finger.]

To be fair, I figured you knew him because of how quickly he transferred to this ship.

You knew of that? [Wait no. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Gets back on track.]

You didn't answer me. Have you met him? In person?

Yes.

[and he... feels kind of sick about it, but he understands how Oren would get Mattias in his clutches very easily. he tries not to assume. tries not to imagine. he bites down on the inside of his lower lip, letting one admission through.]

...He's very charming.

[it takes a minute foe his face to fall. He can see it. The two of them and they're-they're perfect. Enticing. A far better match.

His gut coils and he fights it down. Smothers it with concern. Anger. There's an undercurrent of danger Robin can't parse and. In knowing, he has to protect.

When he speaks, it's soft, with an edge of anger.]

I'll kill him.

[he smiles. which is certainly not the correct response, and he immediately tries not to look so excited by the prospect.]

I wasn't about to suggest it, but...

[he does not genuinely condone killing him, but having less competition would be marvelous for the both of them. he straightens up, trying to get another look at what's now his opponent's work.]

Should I feel the same? Is this a mark that you wanted?

[should he go beat him up for hurting his thing, or what?]

[The misunderstanding catches him off guard. He blinks, then leans back, waving his hands.]

What? No! No! Not like that. I mean, yes, it's—it's something I wanted but that's not—[He sighs, running a hand through his hair.] That's not the point, Robin. Look, Oren... he could be dangerous to you. You need to be careful around him. Or, better yet, [he laughs in exasperation] not be around him at all! Which... is what I was trying to do. Keep you both away from each other.

[he's watching his face very carefully. smile still there, still riding on a little bit of stolen delight. wrong or not, he likes the way that this is going. maybe it's just an impulsive drive to watch it all burn; that Mattias isn't sneaking off with someone who could best him. Oren is trouble.]

Why would I need to be careful around him?

[He didn't want to talk about this. Give him a minute before he talks.]

Oren... He's like me. A Host. Except instead of [the slightest hesitation] god he has a demon. Enkythos. He's—he's powerful. One of the most powerful demons I've ever seen and he wants to grow stronger. Likely to rival the true gods.

[He has to remind himself that Robin... probably doesn't care about all that. Sighing, his hand flops into his lap. Glancing around, he ensures that they're alone, voice dropping to a whisper.] He'd eat you, in short. Or... you're godliness. I'm not sure how it would fare. It's hard when I don't know how... well. How you work.

[actually, his smile might not be entirely under his control. his fingers tick silently at his side and his gaze goes elsewhere. he's thinking, spooling up invisible threads as he recounts all of the factors.]

I know. [that seems like a start.] Though I didn't know that's what it wanted, that's very interesting.

[he wonders if he could kill it. are his demons more like the Kings, or simple monsters? can it be banished like spirits and ghosts can? could he destroy it? could it destroy him? he has yet to meet anything that could.]

So what does he want with you?

[that's a rude question to ask and he knows it--but he doesn't doubt for a second that Oren is manipulative and capable, just like he is. or, used to be.]

Edited 2015-04-13 00:18 (UTC)

Is it too much to believe me desirable?

[The minute the joke leaves, he knows it's not going to work. His nervous chuckles dies into a tired sigh and he slumps back, spineless, in his seat. Occasionally, he glances to Robin, trying his best to ignore the smile that pervades. It both unnerves and annoys him and neither are useful feelings at the moment.]

Honestly, I've no idea. I've lost the goddess. The Atroma... [He scrubs his face.] ... They took her. Oren seems to think we'll be able to recover her. That she's out there somewhere. But—[He frowns, gaze falling.]—I don't think she is, Robin. Space, it feels different than her. Colder.

[Canting his head, he runs a hand through his hair, pausing for a moment to think.] Once he finds out I can't bring her back... [Righting himself, he shrugs.] Well... I suppose he might kill me. Get rid of the symbol and the people crumble.

[He smiles at Robin timidly.] I do hope that doesn't sound too conceited.

[the thorough explanation gives him time to settle down. he pushes the matter of the "demon" away for a moment, stops fidgeting. his focus is back where it belongs.]

Not at all.

[they're already close, so he reaches behind Mattias' head--just so that he can lean forward and kiss his forehead, fondly.]

I'm jealous, actually, that he's getting so much of your attention.

[he pulls back to look at him, eyes level, smile softening to something honest.]

Please don't get yourself killed, Nightjar.

[He wants it to feel good. Wants to fully feel the warmth that crawls on the fringes of his heart. But it's overwhelmed, conquered by the guilt that accompanies those gentle words. The subtle insinuation, the gentle reminder, that he's with another man.

Robin smiles and he swallows tightly. Curls his fists into the fabric of his pants and thinks about how he doesn't deserve it. Not after what he said. Not after what they promised and how he still feels.

(Like he would still seas for him, turn deserts into tundras, crush mountains in his palms)

Was this infidelity or divided love?]

I'll try. [He smiles distractedly, wanting to make up for his folly, wanting to wipe away whatever jealousy Robin might have. The need to fix things overwhelms and he's okay with it, if only because it grants reprieve from an unwelcome thought.

He leans forward.] He doesn't need all of it, you know. I'd—I'd gladly give it to you. And we're here, aren't we? Together.

[He wets his lips, glancing towards the hole Robin crawled out of.] That space looks wide enough for two.

You...

[he sighs, almost a laugh. breathy. the smile is still on his face because he wants to and he would normally kill for this kind of flattery, this offer, this promise--his greatest weakness. it's what he implied he wants, isn't it?

but for the second time, something in him repels the idea. a fear, a trembling remembrance. and this isn't right, Mattias offering this while another man's mark is still fresh on him. Robin would only complicate him. ruin him. he has so much to tell him. he wants to explain, make himself clear. he wants this to have a chance in all of the levels of the Haunting of going well. he doesn't want Mattias to just turn into another one of his mistakes.

so he... brings his fingers forward, to press against Mattias' shirt, where he was stabbed. he's mentioned it, yes, but Robin pinpoints both points with eerie precision. his touch is soft, as is his voice.]

You keep so much pain here, and... [his fingers move up. to his heart.] ...Here. What do you fear, Mattias?

[He could laugh, make a joke. Brush it all off. Yet as those finger slide from wound to wound and he knows, without a doubt, he can't. Simple touches weaving a web, a cat's cradle of truth.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. A hand wraps around Robin's fingers, the hold gentle and worth a hundred whispered words.]

I fear I'll become someone else. [His father, his mother, a goddess, a beast, a destroyer. A thousand identities he could assume and none of them him. None of them what he's felt here.]

[there, that's better. that's the Mattias he wants. his fingers wrap around the other man's in return, just as gentle.]

Then don't get lost in either of us, Nightjar.

[His gaze lowers, but his grip holds. That, at least, never wavers.]

Promise me you'll be careful around him.

[He's already lost one god. He doesn't want to lose another.]

Very careful. I promise.

[which is an odd thing to promise, since he's spent so much of his life feeling very differently about that kind of thing.]

[the moment is... somewhat derailed as he looks down at Mattias' arm, though. lifting his hand a little.]

And what is wrong with your arm?

[he's seen the burns, a little bit, over the course of his time here. apparently now is the moment he needs to ask about it?]

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