Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Posted: **Tue Jan 18, 2022 2:12 am**

52nd of Glade, Year 4619

It had been over a month since he and Lord Ryan had effectively moved in together. If he were any less head-over-heels for the man, Latham might have questioned why a Lord had decided to stay with him for so long, or why he'd never been invited to see his own abode within the city. In truth, some time ago his suspicions effectively disappeared, as he placed more and more faith in the other man, and regarded him with a level of importance within his life that was nearly binding. Latham was in love, and though neither of them had said as much, he was certain that Ashley was too. The nature of their relationship had begun to change -- they spent more time holding hands, kissing, laying within one another's arms. Even their most intimate activities had changed, becoming more sensual, slow and affectionate.

Their time together was unlike anything else. He craved it, needed it, and when he had it, he cherished it.

The Knight had spent the evening gone, though he had informed his lover as much before he'd left. Though they hadn't received any further news on Nora Brend or her activities, a smaller coven of Botchlings had been traced back to their nest. They had been easy enough to kill, but the blood spatter was gruesome, and he, Briala and Halion spent some time after cleaning their armor and complexions, searching their estate and ensuring they didn't leave until the streets were clear of onlookers. It wasn't as if their activities were, after all, entirely sanctioned.

The man returned home with a frayed look across his features, overstimulated and fatigued. He was wearing his thick, black-cladded armor, with his claymore strapped to his back, seared gloves over his hands and a satchel-belt filled with various necessities for the hunt. Taelian's mind reached back to the Botchling he'd last killed -- the way he cowered in the corner, against the wall, begging for his life as his body curled into submission. He thought of how happy he was, here, when he wasn't doing all of that. When he was making love, or cooking for the other man, or playing stupid games that Lord Ryan always seemed better at, bluffed or fooled into defeat nine times out of ten. He trusted the other man utterly, and that was fine. It meant he carried no guilt.

Removing his belt, the man sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he set it down, regaining himself. He tried to remember that he was safe, in their home, away from all of the brutality. He saw the vase at the center of the table near their door, filled with flowers. Ashley had gotten them for him. In return, Latham bought him a simple, silver ring. He didn't say what it meant, nor did he fully ascribe it any sort of meaning in his own mind. Life was short, though, and he knew one thing: he wanted to spend it with Ash. If he could add another ring to that one, some day, he would be glad. Maybe one befitting of his class.

"Ashley, I'm home," he said, as if it wasn't clear, given the small size of their flat. It was an hour from midnight, but he doubted the other would be asleep. His schedule was... somewhat erratic, compared to his own. "Could you help me take off my armor?"

Posted: **Tue Jan 18, 2022 3:27 am**

Hunting for Lady Nora Brend had been fun. To do so discreetly had actually required a bit more work than he'd anticipated, and a bit more of a disguise, too. He'd grabbed his shabby but respectable outfit from the wagon where it was still parked in storage, costing him a stall fee plus what his stupid mule ate in hay. He was thinking of renaming her from Stubborn to Hefty. Still, it was nice to see her. Other than Latham, she was his only real friend in the city, and despite his grumbling she'd gone from too thin to slightly too fat, which was a nice enough change.

Day after day, he scoured markets, hiring houses, and what passed for manufactories in Leiden until he hit upon a promising lead: she was looking for a new chambermaid. Clearly, that position couldn't go to him, but it could go to the lovely wife of Zacharias Loftus, a friendly mustachioed man who was new in town and hoping to make his fortune in prosperous Leiden. He managed to secure Lady Nora's address from a pretty young maid who tried, in her own way, to warn him that this was a bad idea. The last one had run off she said, in a tone that indicated that was precisely what had not happened. Given what else he knew of Lady Nora, he had an inkling what had happened to her. He wasn't certain if Dranoch turned those they fed on or just killed them, but in either case, bad news for her former maid.

With her address in hand, it was easy to wheel his wagon by as Thomas Worth, purportedly once again selling nostrums in the day time to a mostly unenthusiastic crowd. He set up in the square near her house; he could sell during the day and he had an easy enough time observing the comings and goings. House Brend was quiet, though. Lady Nora didn't seem to entertain guests, and the usual hustle and clatter of deliveries, servants, and visitors were markedly absent. If it weren't for seeing the occasional servant out of doors, he would have thought the place abandoned.

On the sixth day of his simultaneous salesman activities and stakeout, he caught a break: a shipment of wine was delivered to the estate. This was an exciting enough event that it seemed the entire household came out of doors to usher it in, including four people in fine, dark clothes: one woman, and three men. From what he could discern without being too obvious, it matched the description of Lady Nora, an adopted nephew, and his retinue. At one point a servant came over to the men, and seemed to say or do something wrong. The woman went beyond bowing and got on her knees in the muck, clearly pleading for something, before some sort of intercession from Lady Nora put the tableau to an end. Thomas wished he'd been close enough to hear what had happened, but he felt fairly certain what he'd just seen was a human beg for her life. It wasn't perfect evidence, but it was better than Latham had.

He'd had less luck in securing a line on anything of particular value in House Brend. He sat with the gamblers for a few nights and encouraged them to complain about deals spoiled or lost in the areas that House Brend controlled, but the usual loose-lipped folks clammed up quick, even when he started throwing around some serious currency -- it was counterfeit, of course, but the club wouldn't discover that until they went to deposit it at the end of the week. By then, hopefully it would mix in with all the other petty cash and be hard to determine who had done what. Or he'd be banned from the club; no great loss. He'd already lifted as much as he could off of the patrons without feeling like they were catching on to him, and if it weren't for his pledge to help Latham he would have long since abandoned the stodgy nobility of this stupid city, or quit city limits entirely.

As he looked around the clean, spacious apartments Latham called home, he had to admit to himself that it had happened again: he'd caught the only disease that plagued him worse than occasional bouts of syphilis: love. He'd bought Latham flowers. Tonight, to celebrate the fact that he'd found what the knight was looking for, he'd cooked dinner, then done all the dishes, carefully putting them back where they'd been before he started so he could claim he'd hired the aid of a cook from a public house. It wasn't anything fancy: polenta, cheese, sausage, and eggs stewed with a few seasonal vegetables, and a bottle of wine. Not the fine stuff he hoped to pilfer from Nora Brend, but a nice bottle he'd stashed in his wagon for a special occasion. He supposed this counted as one.

Dinner grew cold as Latham was away for longer than projected, then much longer. Despite himself, Thomas grew worried. He had faith in Latham's abilities, but the thought of the man injured somewhere was unbearable. It was closer to midnight than to dusk when the man finally came in the door, a bit battered but otherwise unharmed. The casual request threw Thomas, but he'd had enough experience doing so over the last few weeks that it was no big deal. Lord Ashley didn't even joke about Latham getting a valet any more; it just drew attention to how out of place the supposed noble was. Latham seemed to buy his excuse that his Lord Father was waiting on some ventures to turn out before wiring him money, but he was certain it was wearing thin. The man was trusting, but he was no fool.

He shook his head and opted to focus on the now.

"Happy to help, my dear Langey. I've done us some dinner -- or paid someone to do us some dinner, I suppose." He started with helping Latham remove his cuirass. "I've been waiting for your return -- it may be a bit cold now, but if you're hungry, we could still dine together, if you wish? I have some good news!"

He didn't need to fake his excitement. He was looking forward to Latham telling him he'd done well, to seeing the man smile. As he helped him with his pauldrons and greaves, he felt both the warming sensation of feeling close to Latham and the icy realization that he'd need to do something about that soon. This relationship was fake, and it had a time limit. He needed to secure a mount and leave. Soon.

Posted: **Tue Jan 18, 2022 10:33 pm**

Ash was a warm thing to be greeted by, quickly coming over to attend him with a handsome smile spread across his features, his pet name fresh on the man's lips. Langey. Lord Ryan had become quite the valet himself, treating the Knight with patience and respect, and a striking degree of reliability. He was a good lover. The man made Latham feel comforted and relieved whenever he returned home, his eloquence a calming feature, his devotion.

Latham had never known anyone so primarily concerned with his happiness. When he inferred that he might want for affection and shared time, he got it. When he asked for sex, it was on its way. Now, he was apparently even being made meals, by a man Ashley paid -- even though he supposedly hadn't gotten his money from his parents, yet. He wasn't entirely certain whether that was another one of those holes in Ashley's story that he never bothered to look through, but it didn't particularly matter. Somewhere along the way he decided that whether the man spoke truth or fiction, he still loved him without condition.

"I can heat it for both of us; just look away so you don't wince at my magic," he replied, smiling smoothly. Leaning in to kiss his lover on the lips, the Knight helped him remove each of the features of his armor, until they were eventually spread over the surface of the table and he was left with naught but a simple cotton shirt and his pantaloons. Once liberated from his studded leather, the Latham's affections became all the more pronounced, pulling the Grisic man into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his frame. He closed his eyes, buried his face into his hair and quietly breathed him in, feeling the tension in his body relieve itself as they embraced.

"Let's eat, and hear your good news," he whispered. "And... before we do -- Ash..."

He pulled his face back slightly, kissing the nobleman on the forehead before reaching in to grip at his thighs, wrapping the other man's legs around his waist and picking him up effortlessly. With the other man lifted in his embrace, their eyes met. Latham offered him a pronounced look; one that told him everything words could say, although he would still speak some of them anyway, so that he knew.

"I love you," he whispered. It was the first time he'd said it aloud. "I was thinking, today, before my battle and... I don't know that I can imagine life without you, anymore, Ash. I want... we..." He stumbled over his last few words, uncertain of what to say. He was inexperienced and young, and it was mad that he wanted to marry the other, but he did. It was all he thought about in the prelude before his clash with the Botchlings, and as the time came nearer to confront Cardinal Brend, he thought about it all the more -- how much he wanted this, for all of his life.

"...Ah, we can talk about it later," he fixed himself with a mutter, setting the other man down carefully. "Let's go see about that meal you made -- I mean that you purchased," Latham grinned. "My love."

Posted: **Tue Jan 18, 2022 11:14 pm**

Lord Ashley was gone, for just a moment. Thomas opened his mouth to speak, and found he'd been shocked to the point where he didn't know what to say. Latham loved him. This was not in and of itself unusual; many people loved Thomas because he shaped himself into what they needed. He made damn well sure he was easy to love. Latham was no exception. While Thomas knew that Lord Ashley's eccentricity, flamboyance, tendency to exaggerate, and so forth were a bit grating, they provided the character with a structure, a trellis upon which the vine of Latham's feelings could grow. The things that had likely driven him crazy at first were likely what he loved now; that was how this worked.

So this was far from his first declaration of love, but with Latham it was different. As far as he could tell, he was Latham's first everything. Thomas couldn't really relate to this, as his first relationship had commenced when he was scarcely more than fourteen, and his first time shortly thereafter in the context of that relationship. He'd also never been a particularly romantic fellow. He had needed someone, Ned had needed someone, they had been there for each other, Ned died, they weren't any more. Even with his other lovers, people stashed around the continent, hidden caches of goodwill to be used only when absolutely necessary, he imagined they had been angry and sad when he had to move on, but they got over it. Most opened their doors and beds to him when he swung back through wherever they lived, and if that wasn't tacit acceptance of the sporadic nature of their relationship, then what was.

Latham, though -- he knew the man had a big heart. He was probably imagining a long long life together with his illustrious lover Lord Ashley Ryan, paired with only the finest luxuries their joint wealth could offer. Never mind that there was no wealth to speak of. Never mind that he had nothing to offer someone like Latham, other than patter and sodomy.

"I -- Langey, you know I feel -- that is -- I have -- the feelings of," try as he might, Thomas couldn't get the words out. He couldn't reciprocate the feelings, even though the words usually slipped out as easy as everything else did. He felt his silver tongue actually turned to silver, cold, metallic, and immobile in his mouth. "W-what we have -- it must be temporary. I must return to my homeland. Marry someone suitable. Presumably you to yours, as well. This doesn't mean that I don't -- that I feel nothing for you. I just know that when your business concludes here, you will quit this place, and I will likely never see you again. So it's all a bit impossible, do you see?"

He didn't want to have this conversation. "Also -- perhaps we could table exploring our innermost heartfelt emotions, Langey? Because I found you Lady Nora Brend."

Posted: **Tue Jan 18, 2022 11:44 pm**

His vision narrowed as Ashley began to reply. The resistance in his throat could be physically felt by the both of them, and somewhere within, his reluctance caused the young Knight to quiver. He had never truly faced rejection, because he had never tried to be wanted. Lord Ryan was the first he'd clung to, and to the other man he devoted everything. He knew what those words were, clinging somewhere within like bile. He loved him back, but he would not say it -- could not. Why?

It must be temporary.

He peered down, shutting his eyes and breathing in. He felt the wind knocked out from him, and the man realized he had never felt something like this before. His insides were twisting, braced for pain and yet so unready.

"Must?" he asked, his own voice equally resistant to him, though with brute force of will he carved his way through, against the tightening of his throat, and the throbbing of his lungs. "Why must you -- or I -- do any of that? I value my duty, but... being here, with you, it's -- it's changed me. I don't want to just... succumb to the life given to me anymore. I want--"

He stopped, shaking his head. The Knight was becoming emotional, almost uncontrollably so. It was unbefitting of him, and he knew that. He steeled himself, taking in a heavy breath and calming his quivering nerves, opening his eyes and laying them quietly upon the other. He could not let anyone see him like this, least of all Lord Ryan. There was still a wandering, orphaned boy in there somewhere, sensitive to any indication that he might somehow end up alone.

Latham's eyes still lingered on the other, half-lidded and subtly as they darted back and forth, examining his features. Sometimes, he looked to the other man's body language to tell him what his words weren't, but overall Ashley was a good liar. He kept his face on well, obscuring whatever truth was beneath, if there even was one. It was so difficult to know, with him.

"If this..." he began, turning away slightly, "...if what we have is only temporary to you, then why do you remain?"

He looked up, his features no longer obscured so much by shadows as he met his stare directly. His question was a pointed one: why continue at all, why be there, if he expected an eventual or even soon expiration? He could not understand. His theory that brought everything together was that Lord Ryan loved him, and perhaps he did, but if that was so then everything made even less sense. Why love a man you view as a finite source of affection, determined to flicker away?

Latham did not even respond to the news that the other had found Nora Brend, barely registering the information. As time went on, what he felt were his obligations to the Remedy waned, as his love for Ashley grew. Trotting through the knife's edge between life and death was the path of a man with nothing to lose, and he had something now. Nora no longer felt like his fight.

Posted: **Wed Jan 19, 2022 12:29 am**

Thomas almost laughed at Latham. Not because he was being comical in the slightest, but just because the man's question was absurd.

"Latham -- what in life isn't temporary? Should I not enjoy a quince because it will rot, or a dance because the set will end, or my time with you because we will separate, or have a falling out, or die? Life, in my opinion, is short, and not always kind. I would rather enjoy my time while I am among the living than consign myself to having nothing in my search for something that will be with me forever. Is it so wrong to want to be with you in the time that we have together, even if I know that that time to be finite? To me, it isn't. Perhaps you disagree, which is, of course, your right."

Thomas felt his eyes begin to well uncomfortably until Lord Ashley stepped in, stiffening his upper lip, putting the mastered neutral cast to his expression in place. He didn't want to make this harder for Latham by adding his own emotions to the mess he'd made. In any case, he was right; for them to be together made no sense, and was impossible. Latham was in love with a phantasm, and Thomas was a fool who didn't deserve someone of Latham's caliber.

"Again -- I have spent not an inconsiderable amount of my own time finding you this information on Lady Brend. You truly only care if I am to be yours, forever?" He'd thought Latham would be so pleased. He'd cooked. He was hoping for a good bottle of wine, a nice dinner, toasts to their mutual success, and a heroic fuck or two before a well-deserved rest. Not an ending -- not yet, at least.

Posted: **Wed Jan 19, 2022 12:57 am**

It was difficult to take fault with the basic premises of Lord Ryan's philosophy, but even so he did. There was a rational man within him, somewhere, that thought perhaps his lover was correct, but that was easily overridden by the hurt, sensitive soul that stood tall before him, eyes resisting welling with tears, breathing uneven. A part of this was, perhaps, his upbringing. Sil'Norai were known among all races to bond for life, and they lived long lives at that. In some fanciful dream of what could be, he imagined Thomas as his Arlaed, as his husband, his guiding light. His blasé attitude towards their romance was a dart in that, one he wasn't entirely sure he could reckon with.

"It's not wrong, but... it's not what I want," he said, frowning. "It makes it feel -- empty. Maybe not nothing to you, but... close to nothing. My right. You talk like we're having a discussion on philosophy -- this isn't that to me. This is... our future. I thought -- I hoped -- that you wanted a future between us. But you don't."

And with that, he breathed out one more time, slowly nodding his head in accordance with his own, jumbled thoughts. He absorbed the other man's words, and even empathized with them. He imagined it was upsetting, putting in all of that effort only to have something like this thrown at your face. He supposed, in some way, they felt the same. Lord Ryan had pursued leads on Nora only to be met with an unfortunate truth, and Latham had honed himself into being Ashley's gallant lover, seeking out his every need and fulfilling them ruthlessly, only to learn it was all for naught.

Even so, he did not feel spiteful. This was no act of vengeance. He had not the will to hurt Ash -- he imagined that he never would.

"I love you, Ash," he repeated, a solemn look spanning across his features. "I love you so much that--I don't think I can be with you, knowing it'll just end. It can't be that way for me; it... it will kill me. I care that you did so much to help me in finding Cardinal Brend, but I care about you so much more than all that. Do you understand?"

He had not the will to argue, or to yell. Defiance to pain had been trained out of him many years before they had met. If their end was to be inevitable, he would not kick and scream. Of course, a part of him wished he could accept Ashley's outlook and enjoy whatever time they had left with one another, or use that time to try and persuade him to stay with him after all... but none of that was possible.

"I will give you a fortnight, here, to have a roof above your head while you await your parent's funds, or find another place to lodge. In that time, I will stay in the barracks. If -- if you want to help me, you can leave a note here with the information, but if you're too disappointed with me, I will understand."

He stepped closer to kiss him on the forehead, wrapping his arms around him for another firm, loving embrace. His last. The man took in the feeling of Lord Ryan - his warmth, his smooth skin, the pleasant way he felt within his arms. He let go.

"I think it's best I go. I don't -- don't think I can look at you at the moment, without..."

A sudden whimper, the sound shuddering in his throat. He was crying.

"...Just, be well. Okay?"

Posted: **Wed Jan 19, 2022 1:29 am**

Thomas, not trusting his voice, could only nod as though struck dumb. For the second time that evening, he reached for the words that would have the intended effect of making Latham stay, but he couldn't think of anything. He could lie, say he'd changed his mind, but that would be far more cruel. In this way. Latham broke his own heart. If Thomas were to truly lead him on he'd be putting the knife back in the wound and deepening it. So he said nothing for a while, as Latham started to gather up his armor and a few of his other important effects without Thomas' help.

"I --" he said, making Latham look. "I'm sorry. In another life, perhaps," he said, his lips twisting in an odd smile that was both sincere and facade.

The other man's frown deepened, but he said nothing while he methodically gathered more of his posessions. When he was at the threshold, though, he turned and repeated: "In another life." Then he shut the door, and Thomas felt the apartment far too large for a single occupant.

When Latham had gone, Thomas ate a portion of the food, now cold and gluey. He didn't drink the wine. Sad and drunk was worse than just sad, after all. Despite the late hour, he was far too wound up to sleep, so instead, he used some of Latham's left behind paper and ink to write out a detailed report of the target's estate: inhabitants, suspected number of dranoch, busy hours, and entrances. He included the information about her large wine cellar, thinking Dranoch might enjoy a large underground location such as this.

Deed done, he undressed and got in bed. After a moment, he realized he was awaiting Latham's pyromancy to extinguish the lights. He tried not to feel sorry for himself about that and failed, then got up, cursing himself for his stupidity, and extinguished everything so that he was lying in total darkness. When he slept, it was uneasy, but dreamless.

Posted: **Thu Jan 20, 2022 5:57 pm**

YOUR REVIEW❊

Tae

Lores
N/A

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A

Points 8 nonmagical

Comments: Lol Tae got denied. No on the real though it was sad seeing him cry!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas

Lores
Spycraft: Gathering Information From a Source
Spycraft: Staking Out A Location
Deception: Using Counterfeit Bank Notes
Etiquette: Servants in Noble Houses
Larceny: Stealing small items from the inebriated
Acting: Pretending to be a Man of Humble Means

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A

Points 8XP nonmagical

Comments: Heartbreaker Thomas! I will remember this, smh! How dare thee.

Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

The Days Go By

The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By

Re: The Days Go By