Anti-OTP: Hamlet/Guil

[pipe_player]

Guildenstern slouches moodily in a chair, tapping his fingers irritably on the edge of the armrest. To a less experienced person, he would look angry at something, discontent with the state of the world. But those who know him better can tell easily that it's just another day for him, just another convoluted thread of logic he tries to hold the

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[thanitohercules]

Hamlet can either tell this or does not particularly care; most likely it is the latter, for it is a sort of night where he has lost hold of a bit of himself (the sort of night that is most nights, or so those that know him well would tell you). And so he is standing behind Guildenstern, wondering not what it is on the other man's mind, but rather what will get the most reaction, not that he's sure what sort of reaction he's intending, or why.

Reaching out, Hamlet very lightly runs his fingertips down the back of Guildenstern's neck.

[thanitohercules]

Yet for Hamlet, it seems almost forgotten. He is pained, is completely lost to-- wrapped up in-- some internal pain for a moment. When he speaks, though, this too has nearly gone and his voice has taken on a rather thoughtful quality. "What fails to?"

[pipe_player]

"Why should anything?" He asks, nearly bewildered at this quick change in Hamlet's demeanor. "You've got the reins. You aren't lost. You won't ever blink and find yourself somewhere else, only to remember that you've forgotten your own name -- you aren't an expendable, why should anything ail you?"

[thanitohercules]

In a movement far too smooth, Hamlet half circles Guildenstern's chair, and stands before him, a bit to one side. "To Fate all men are but pieces, and we know not the game."

And then without warning. "What is my name?"

[pipe_player]

"Atlas, with the weight of the world upon your shoulders. Hercules, a heroic madman. Tantalus, never content. The Sphinx, always riddling in circles with only the promise of a red opened mouth waiting at the end of failure." He pauses. "What is your name?"

[thanitohercules]

His answers come too quickly. "Odysseus, at the meeting of the rivers, with libations, with milk, honey, and wine. Damocles, in danger he does not see. Orestes, in mourning for a great man."

With no warning, and with hardly a pause, Hamlet moves forward and sits himself firmly on Guildenstern's lap, an arm draped around his shoulders. "Menelaus, welcoming friends to his table."

[pipe_player]

Guildenstern grabs Hamlet's arm in a grab far too tight to be friendly. "Cain, in fratricide."

[thanitohercules]

Simply. "Cassandra, never heeded."

[pipe_player]

"Agamemnon, a slave-driver." He wonders if he's confusing the discomfort with something else altogether -- or if he's taking something else altogether for discomfort.

[thanitohercules]

"Polla metaxu pelei kulikos kai cheileos akrou." He leans against Guildenstern, watching him-- and his gaze is bit too intense to be completely mad. Quietly, he adds, "Ancaeus, already dead."

[pipe_player]

"Now if only there were a slip between the Queen's cup and her lips." He doesn't quite know why he's bringing Gertrude into this, only that it's vaguely unfair for Hamlet to do all the riling up. This might be the equivalent of the modern 'your mom' punchline.

[thanitohercules]

Hamlet runs the tip of a fingernail lightly across the base of Guildenstern's throat. Perhaps it is warning. Perhaps it is something else altogether.

[pipe_player]

Guildenstern swallows visibly. Perhaps it is fear. It probably is, but he wonders if he's confusing it for something else altogether. He wishes he could give it a name.

[thanitohercules]

Hamlet shifts and draws his legs over the arm of the chair, completely balancing against Guildenstern now. "Laelaps," he murmurs, leaning closer than ever.

[pipe_player]

Guildenstern flinches but doesn't draw away. "Which makes me Daphne."

[thanitohercules]

"Ay, and rooted here."

And then, finally-- he's not quite certain why the 'finally' is there, but it is-- he's kissing Guildenstern, with a harshness he was perhaps unable to cite.