syvia
in
springkink
Legacy of Kain (Janos/Vorador)
Title: Tea for One
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slight spoilers for Defiance
Word Count: 796
Summary: Extremely pre-game. Vorador-as-human. Janos can be just a liiiiiiittle overwhelming.
Prompt: 38. Legacy of Kain, Janos/Vorador: blood - "Cake or death?"
As much contact as he has with the Masters, their solicitous natures, the evidence of such still made him blink.
Here was a being who could tear him limb from limb, reduce his flesh to shreds of skin and drain his entire body of blood.
Not necessarily in that order.
The being capable of such violent and powerful acts was currently pouring him a cup of tea.
Cloven hands delicately lifted the teapot- one talon pressing down upon the lid to keep it from tumbling off- and poured steaming liquid into a dainty porcelain cup.
"Sugar? Milk?"
Janos drank neither tea nor milk and didn't eat sugar. Vorador blushed like a child to think the Lord had obtained these things for his benefit.
"Yes, please," he murmured, wanting to be a good guest.
Janos pinched the creamer between his thumb and first finger, poured a small amount into the cup. He exchanged it for a pair of tiny sugar tongs and glanced expectantly at Vorador.
He stared with mingled horror and amazement- Janos was so careful, so regal. Black wings shifted and resettled gracefully as Janos leaned forward in his chair.
"I- it- ... three lumps, please," he managed.
Janos applied them and stirred, then offered the cup to Vorador, who accepted it with all due reverence.
"Thank you, my Lord."
Janos smiled benevolently and watched him, seeing no need to speak. It occurred to Vorador that he should compliment the tea.
No, that would seem foolish when he hadn't tasted it yet.
Neither of them moved.
Utter silence.
Then, "It is my pleasure to have you here, Vorador. My brethren extend their compliments. Your work has been truly exceptional, and I took it upon myself to thank you on their behalf as well as my own. The Soul Reaver is quite perfect, and I should like to commission several other pieces. Your tea is growing cold."
Vorador flinched, broke out of the slight daze he'd fallen into and drank- nearly choked as he tried to swallow too quickly. He coughed, and tried to speak, words tumbling over themselves as he expressed his gratitude for Janos' consideration- babbled modestly that it was nothing, it was his pride and great honor to serve them.
Able and respected he was within his village. A man of two score and five years. A renowned blacksmith and skilled swordsman.
A stammering idiot in the face of the Masters.
He took another drink and wished briefly that it was something stronger than chamomile.
"I have other news as well."
"Yes, milord?" He couldn't put the teacup down fast enough. Janos smiled gently and poured him another. He repeated the process of adding cream and sugar. Janos rose from his backless chair and joined Vorador on the divan. With as much delicacy as he'd placed sugar into the cup, he set it in Vorador's hand. Vorador tried not to shake from nervous excitement.
The Masters in general and Janos in particular radiated serenity, wisdom, and more than that, power. Janos' power was immense and terrible, but somehow tranquil. Nothing could match it, and Vorador didn't think he'd ever get used to the sensation. He took a drink and his hand trembled.
"As you know, the women of my race are unable to bear children. We have, however, discovered another method to pass on our abilities. Alas- this will pass on our curse even as it sustains our power and knowledge, but to maintain Nosgoth and the essential Balance, pass it along we must."
Vorador looked into his face, earnest, alien, and felt himself grow complacent in his thoughts, his observations. His world narrowed to the thrum of power, Janos' glowing eyes and the dark lips slipping about his elongated canines.
"-Blood is the life, and perhaps, death, of this world. To have it is the nourishment of your growth and existence- to have it not, the end. But for you," he said slowly, and his voice was soothing, hypnotic, "it would be both end and beginning, for after taking your blood, I would gift you my own, delivering you to this new existence."
Vorador never expressed surprise at being selected- Janos spoke as if it were simple truth- inevitability. The same contentment remained upon him, and had he wished to express his appreciation of the honor about to be bestowed upon him, he could not have formed the words.
"Now-"
The blacksmith started, nearly sloshing tea over his hand at Janos' brisk tone and sudden smile. He set his hand beneath Vorador's, lifting it gently upward, encouraging him to keep drinking. He reached for the covered platter on the table and removed the lid, looking at Vorador as he did so.
"-before we begin, would you care for a slice of cake?"
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slight spoilers for Defiance
Word Count: 796
Summary: Extremely pre-game. Vorador-as-human. Janos can be just a liiiiiiittle overwhelming.
Prompt: 38. Legacy of Kain, Janos/Vorador: blood - "Cake or death?"
As much contact as he has with the Masters, their solicitous natures, the evidence of such still made him blink.
Here was a being who could tear him limb from limb, reduce his flesh to shreds of skin and drain his entire body of blood.
Not necessarily in that order.
The being capable of such violent and powerful acts was currently pouring him a cup of tea.
Cloven hands delicately lifted the teapot- one talon pressing down upon the lid to keep it from tumbling off- and poured steaming liquid into a dainty porcelain cup.
"Sugar? Milk?"
Janos drank neither tea nor milk and didn't eat sugar. Vorador blushed like a child to think the Lord had obtained these things for his benefit.
"Yes, please," he murmured, wanting to be a good guest.
Janos pinched the creamer between his thumb and first finger, poured a small amount into the cup. He exchanged it for a pair of tiny sugar tongs and glanced expectantly at Vorador.
He stared with mingled horror and amazement- Janos was so careful, so regal. Black wings shifted and resettled gracefully as Janos leaned forward in his chair.
"I- it- ... three lumps, please," he managed.
Janos applied them and stirred, then offered the cup to Vorador, who accepted it with all due reverence.
"Thank you, my Lord."
Janos smiled benevolently and watched him, seeing no need to speak. It occurred to Vorador that he should compliment the tea.
No, that would seem foolish when he hadn't tasted it yet.
Neither of them moved.
Utter silence.
Then, "It is my pleasure to have you here, Vorador. My brethren extend their compliments. Your work has been truly exceptional, and I took it upon myself to thank you on their behalf as well as my own. The Soul Reaver is quite perfect, and I should like to commission several other pieces. Your tea is growing cold."
Vorador flinched, broke out of the slight daze he'd fallen into and drank- nearly choked as he tried to swallow too quickly. He coughed, and tried to speak, words tumbling over themselves as he expressed his gratitude for Janos' consideration- babbled modestly that it was nothing, it was his pride and great honor to serve them.
Able and respected he was within his village. A man of two score and five years. A renowned blacksmith and skilled swordsman.
A stammering idiot in the face of the Masters.
He took another drink and wished briefly that it was something stronger than chamomile.
"I have other news as well."
"Yes, milord?" He couldn't put the teacup down fast enough. Janos smiled gently and poured him another. He repeated the process of adding cream and sugar. Janos rose from his backless chair and joined Vorador on the divan. With as much delicacy as he'd placed sugar into the cup, he set it in Vorador's hand. Vorador tried not to shake from nervous excitement.
The Masters in general and Janos in particular radiated serenity, wisdom, and more than that, power. Janos' power was immense and terrible, but somehow tranquil. Nothing could match it, and Vorador didn't think he'd ever get used to the sensation. He took a drink and his hand trembled.
"As you know, the women of my race are unable to bear children. We have, however, discovered another method to pass on our abilities. Alas- this will pass on our curse even as it sustains our power and knowledge, but to maintain Nosgoth and the essential Balance, pass it along we must."
Vorador looked into his face, earnest, alien, and felt himself grow complacent in his thoughts, his observations. His world narrowed to the thrum of power, Janos' glowing eyes and the dark lips slipping about his elongated canines.
"-Blood is the life, and perhaps, death, of this world. To have it is the nourishment of your growth and existence- to have it not, the end. But for you," he said slowly, and his voice was soothing, hypnotic, "it would be both end and beginning, for after taking your blood, I would gift you my own, delivering you to this new existence."
Vorador never expressed surprise at being selected- Janos spoke as if it were simple truth- inevitability. The same contentment remained upon him, and had he wished to express his appreciation of the honor about to be bestowed upon him, he could not have formed the words.
"Now-"
The blacksmith started, nearly sloshing tea over his hand at Janos' brisk tone and sudden smile. He set his hand beneath Vorador's, lifting it gently upward, encouraging him to keep drinking. He reached for the covered platter on the table and removed the lid, looking at Vorador as he did so.
"-before we begin, would you care for a slice of cake?"