Ken: Gathering DarkaramuinMarch 22 2006, 20:21:19 UTC
The mutter of voices brings him awake - not that he ever really sleeps in once Lukas is up. He extricates himself from the tangle of blankets and fumbles for his glasses. The sole concession to modesty is the robe - Lukas's, which makes it ludicrously over-sized but it is soft, warm and positively reeks of his lover. The cool weft of the fabric is an almost embrace and he belts it tightly, rolling back the sleeves
( ... )
Lukas: EndarkeneduneditedMarch 23 2006, 20:12:44 UTC
He hasn't felt this way in hundreds of years. He didn't realize he was still capable of such cold fury, not until three minutes ago. It feels hollow now, and until Ken falls in behind him he almost wonders if they think he is only mimicking this rage.
Try me, he thinks. He almost wishes they would.
But Ken does take his place behind him, and the flat aura about him -- hostility nearly hidden by a clinical distaste -- brings Lukas painfully back. Yes, this is familiar. Even the derision made of the Sage's title, given to him by people who revered and respected his wisdom, even that is familiar.
I've fought you before.
"Are you threatening me?" Lukas hears himself demand. It is instinct that carries him forward when what he really wants to do is wither away and die at the thought, the mere thought, of two worlds turning to him with their every conflict and trouble and burden. The Maou makes a brilliant threat, whether he knows it or not. If he follows through, it will kill Lukas.
Will killing him here solve the problem? His fist
( ... )
He's teetering on the brink of something dreadful, like this. The world he's happily embraced is a cozy place, lazy Saturday mornings and delicate watercolors, and battle has no place here. Beyond the edge is the world he used to know, where everyone had a grievance that only he could address, where every soul had a battle that only he could fight
( ... )
No matter how much they try or how intellectual convinced they are of the truth in the Maou's unspoken threats, it is simply not possible to stay in a state of heightened awareness indefinitely. And, as much as he wishes he could deny it, their old instincts are roaring back with a vengeance. They both know better than to try and remain fully alert.
Bad weather means that Lukas has been forced to stay home to avoid betraying how rattled the Maou's visit has made them. Which, in turn, means that his golden lover will have downed his brushes and charcoal as soon as Ken's office hours ended and will be pacing the floor, waiting for his return. Ken shakes out his umbrella and steps into the drizzle. He thinks it's likely to be his turn to cook tonight.
Not Asian food. Steak, perhaps...
It could have been a lot worse.
Later, Ken would admit that it was those long-buried instincts that saved him. Probably not his life: the Earth Maou wasn't quite that stupid. But they saved him all the same
( ... )
It begins as the least pleasant war he has ever waged, and it promises to end as the most maddening. The hours of frustration, of wondering, are too much to bear. He stalks through the house when no one is there to see him, even the animals slinking out of his way, and thinks furiously. Where is the enemy? Where are his armies? When do they come to try to break me?
This is not that kind of war.
Footsteps, slow and heavy, are the first warning that he has, strangling the breath from his throat in dreadful premonition. That can't be his lover's light step; it hasn't the energy of health or the swiftness or impatience. That is the dazed march of the returning soldier. He's heard it many times before.
No amount of premonition can prepare him for the awful moment when he opens the door and Ken wavers and falls into him.
No, no, no! The man in his frantic embrace is a wreck; bruises and blood mottle pale skin, even smiling features are split and swollen.
An inaudible mumble catches his ears, a faint, "Don't leave me..."
Lukas: Lie AwakeuneditedApril 5 2006, 17:15:42 UTC
There is no light in the darkness, except for the glowing numbers from their bedside clock.
He can't sleep. He isn't even tired. He knows that he should sleep, that waking up refreshed will make this seem a world easier to deal with; he's been awake all day and the better part of the night. But Lukas still finds his blood burning bright with maryoku and adrenaline thudding into ready muscles as if at any moment he might be forced into battle. With Ken held tight against him and his face buried into the smaller man's shoulder he just lies there with his eyes open and waits.
The rush is gone but the reality is only just settling in.
The Sage has been attacked -- a clumsy attempt at intimidation upon a person far wiser and more graceful than its masterminds could ever hope to be. Ken has been attacked, and so easily the comfort of their private lives is shattered. There is no place that is safe outside of their home, no security beyond these walls
( ... )
Okay. Bob needs to die now. Seriously. The Chinese Water Torture sounds nice. Maybe quartering? How about scooping his eyes out with a spork (the kinds Mazoku use)?
Even better. *lets Rufus!muse loose*
[[Rufus: ... *beats at barrier of brackets!* Let me out! They need to pay! How dare they?! *lights multiple pieces of furniture aflame, his lips are pulled back into a feral snarl* Betraying, deceitful, deceptive, duplicitous, insidious, slippery, traitorous, two-faced, two-timing ... No one treats The Great Sage with such violence! Their lives have been forfeited! *hands clenched around his sword, chest rising erratically then smirks.*]]
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I liiiike this one.
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B-O-B.
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Try me, he thinks. He almost wishes they would.
But Ken does take his place behind him, and the flat aura about him -- hostility nearly hidden by a clinical distaste -- brings Lukas painfully back. Yes, this is familiar. Even the derision made of the Sage's title, given to him by people who revered and respected his wisdom, even that is familiar.
I've fought you before.
"Are you threatening me?" Lukas hears himself demand. It is instinct that carries him forward when what he really wants to do is wither away and die at the thought, the mere thought, of two worlds turning to him with their every conflict and trouble and burden. The Maou makes a brilliant threat, whether he knows it or not. If he follows through, it will kill Lukas.
Will killing him here solve the problem? His fist ( ... )
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No matter how much they try or how intellectual convinced they are of the truth in the Maou's unspoken threats, it is simply not possible to stay in a state of heightened awareness indefinitely. And, as much as he wishes he could deny it, their old instincts are roaring back with a vengeance. They both know better than to try and remain fully alert.
Bad weather means that Lukas has been forced to stay home to avoid betraying how rattled the Maou's visit has made them. Which, in turn, means that his golden lover will have downed his brushes and charcoal as soon as Ken's office hours ended and will be pacing the floor, waiting for his return. Ken shakes out his umbrella and steps into the drizzle. He thinks it's likely to be his turn to cook tonight.
Not Asian food. Steak, perhaps...
It could have been a lot worse.
Later, Ken would admit that it was those long-buried instincts that saved him. Probably not his life: the Earth Maou wasn't quite that stupid. But they saved him all the same ( ... )
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This is not that kind of war.
Footsteps, slow and heavy, are the first warning that he has, strangling the breath from his throat in dreadful premonition. That can't be his lover's light step; it hasn't the energy of health or the swiftness or impatience. That is the dazed march of the returning soldier. He's heard it many times before.
No amount of premonition can prepare him for the awful moment when he opens the door and Ken wavers and falls into him.
No, no, no! The man in his frantic embrace is a wreck; bruises and blood mottle pale skin, even smiling features are split and swollen.
An inaudible mumble catches his ears, a faint, "Don't leave me..."
Never by ( ... )
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He can't sleep. He isn't even tired. He knows that he should sleep, that waking up refreshed will make this seem a world easier to deal with; he's been awake all day and the better part of the night. But Lukas still finds his blood burning bright with maryoku and adrenaline thudding into ready muscles as if at any moment he might be forced into battle. With Ken held tight against him and his face buried into the smaller man's shoulder he just lies there with his eyes open and waits.
The rush is gone but the reality is only just settling in.
The Sage has been attacked -- a clumsy attempt at intimidation upon a person far wiser and more graceful than its masterminds could ever hope to be. Ken has been attacked, and so easily the comfort of their private lives is shattered. There is no place that is safe outside of their home, no security beyond these walls ( ... )
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Okay. Bob needs to die now. Seriously. The Chinese Water Torture sounds nice. Maybe quartering? How about scooping his eyes out with a spork (the kinds Mazoku use)?
Even better. *lets Rufus!muse loose*
[[Rufus: ... *beats at barrier of brackets!* Let me out! They need to pay! How dare they?! *lights multiple pieces of furniture aflame, his lips are pulled back into a feral snarl* Betraying, deceitful, deceptive, duplicitous, insidious, slippery, traitorous, two-faced, two-timing ... No one treats The Great Sage with such violence! Their lives have been forfeited! *hands clenched around his sword, chest rising erratically then smirks.*]]
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