[Ah. Lovecraft haunts the edge of the peer like a shadow, yet it feels like he was compelling him to meet here. Just his imagination, surely, and not a Lovecraftian spell cast over his soul.
Char settles at his side easily, turned to meet his gaze.]
There you are. I was beginning to think you'd grown tired of the fanfare and slipped away early.
[He's never been one for crowds or fanfare or festivities, really. Char settles next to him, and he's shifting closer, though still shy of outright touching him.]
But I hoped you would have fun with the others. Everyone is...saying their goodbyes.
[Char huffs softly, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and weariness. He turns his gaze out toward the garish lights of the park, their reflections spilling across the water in fractured ribbons. When he speaks, his voice is low and even, without the mask of showmanship he's carried for so long.]
Goodbyes have never suited me. I've said too many of them already, and never well.
[His eyes flick back to Lovecraft, steady and deep.]
It would have been easier to disappear without a word, but I'm turning over a new leaf. So I've convinced myself, anyway.
[He's always liked him like this. No mask. Nothing else but just him. This, too, might be a layer, but it is a layer that he feels is something maybe he can only see.]
[Lovecraft can't help himself. He reaches up to tuck a strand of that golden hair behind an ear.]
[Char doesn't shy from the touch, letting the strand of hair fall back in place. Who could feel this man's touch and mistake it for something cold? His gaze drifts to the water, words chosen with care.]
Nothing so grand. I've had my share of politicking and combat. It's about time I retire the uniform.
[The military man finds his way home from war. It is reassuring to him. War takes and takes and takes. A worthless effort by humans trying to squabble over things like power and land.]
[Char offers easily, some bittersweet note robbing any heat from his voice. Back home, he's a dead man. Char's flame was extinguished along with one final gambit to bring about change. This second shot at life has offered him the freedom he's sought all his life, and it feels like too much to bear.]
I spent my life trying to push humanity towards a brighter future by a single inch. I burnt myself to ashes once trying to do so, and once was enough.
If you burnt yourself to ashes...what a brilliant fire it...must have been.
[A little sigh - now this is something he has thought about in the last week or so, hoping this would all end. And now, obtaining that end, it feels all the more uncertain. A man - a monster - tied between two worlds. His sleep, and...]
Well, I have...discussed with. Sika Madu. I will likely...sleep. At home. I'm so tired...
[But...]
I wish to...visit you. From time to time. If you would...have me.
[Maybe this is why they understand one another so well. Monsters who view the world through the lens of a romantic... there's irony there, but nothing Char cares to touch on now.
He leans to the side, a bit of his weight trusted to Lovecraft's shoulder.]
You've earned your rest, but don't oversleep. I'm not very forgiving when people show up late to the party.
[He lets Nishi lean on him - his arm curls, sliding around the other's back to keep him close. These hands - not even hands - are used to murder. So little are they used to something gentle as this.]
Would you be mad if I was late? Would you...drag me out of the deep?
[Even with his dour voice, he sounds faintly amused.]
[The devil in him thinks of a dozen ways he could punish Lovecraft for the minor transgression of being late. Giving him the cold shoulder, serving him a drink without any ice... you know. Petty things.
But past the dramatics is someone who would, every time, choose to extend his hand to Lovecraft. At the heart of every monster is a man, and Lovecraft is among the better ones.]
Don't make it sound like you'll laugh at my answer. I suspect you already know.
[Adorable. The word lingers, pricking at his pride, and he exhales through his nose in a quiet huff. He should correct him, insist there's nothing remotely adorable about Char Aznable. It would be the expected response.
Instead, he sits up with studied nonchalance, as if the movement were casual... but it's awkward and wooden. It isn't subtle in the least— the color in his cheeks betrays him, no matter how carefully he tries to mask it. Now excuse him while he oh so subtly turns his face aside and coughs into his fist.]
[This isn't just teasing. This is bullying. Char will swear up and down that there's no ounce of petulant brat left in him by now, but he still whips his head back around to sneer at Lovecraft— as if that would dissuade him any.]
Are you sure you didn't lure me here to tease me? This feels like an intentional attack.
[Is... is that supposed to be a bad thing? Should he want to be embarrassed on a regular basis? The attention is nice in a way, but it's also hard to be the center of this kind of pointed focus. When you want to be an attention whore but you also don't...............]
...I think you would be the one suffering more for it if I told you to quit. But maybe you should feel bad, saying little things to shame me.
It's no feat, I assure you. I only recognize the things we share between us.
[Maybe it's enough to see the good in each other, even if they'll never see it in themselves. A weighty sigh betrays him— he really can see himself too damn well in those deep dark eyes. Somehow, it wouldn't feel right to look away.]
In time, I'd like to think the way others see you will be easier to bear. That you'll learn to trust all the good that they see.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
insistence) wrote2025-08-18 04:41 pm
no subject
Char settles at his side easily, turned to meet his gaze.]
There you are. I was beginning to think you'd grown tired of the fanfare and slipped away early.
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[He's never been one for crowds or fanfare or festivities, really. Char settles next to him, and he's shifting closer, though still shy of outright touching him.]
But I hoped you would have fun with the others. Everyone is...saying their goodbyes.
no subject
Goodbyes have never suited me. I've said too many of them already, and never well.
[His eyes flick back to Lovecraft, steady and deep.]
It would have been easier to disappear without a word, but I'm turning over a new leaf. So I've convinced myself, anyway.
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[Lovecraft can't help himself. He reaches up to tuck a strand of that golden hair behind an ear.]
A new leaf? Hm. And what would that be?
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Nothing so grand. I've had my share of politicking and combat. It's about time I retire the uniform.
[Char smile, wry but sincere.]
Trying, for once, to be a man who stays put.
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I think that's a good goal.
[And a pause.]
Where? Here? Or at home?
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[Char offers easily, some bittersweet note robbing any heat from his voice. Back home, he's a dead man. Char's flame was extinguished along with one final gambit to bring about change. This second shot at life has offered him the freedom he's sought all his life, and it feels like too much to bear.]
I spent my life trying to push humanity towards a brighter future by a single inch. I burnt myself to ashes once trying to do so, and once was enough.
As for you... what have you decided to do?
no subject
[A little sigh - now this is something he has thought about in the last week or so, hoping this would all end. And now, obtaining that end, it feels all the more uncertain. A man - a monster - tied between two worlds. His sleep, and...]
Well, I have...discussed with. Sika Madu. I will likely...sleep. At home. I'm so tired...
[But...]
I wish to...visit you. From time to time. If you would...have me.
no subject
He leans to the side, a bit of his weight trusted to Lovecraft's shoulder.]
You've earned your rest, but don't oversleep. I'm not very forgiving when people show up late to the party.
[Lovecraft had better not keep him waiting.]
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Would you be mad if I was late? Would you...drag me out of the deep?
[Even with his dour voice, he sounds faintly amused.]
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But past the dramatics is someone who would, every time, choose to extend his hand to Lovecraft. At the heart of every monster is a man, and Lovecraft is among the better ones.]
Don't make it sound like you'll laugh at my answer. I suspect you already know.
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[He presses his lips against the side of the man's head.]
For you...though....I think...its adorable of you.
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Instead, he sits up with studied nonchalance, as if the movement were casual... but it's awkward and wooden. It isn't subtle in the least— the color in his cheeks betrays him, no matter how carefully he tries to mask it. Now excuse him while he oh so subtly turns his face aside and coughs into his fist.]
You must find some joy in catching me off guard.
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[This is adorable, alright.]
Mm. [A musing noise at the back of his throat, as if he is oh so totally innocent.] I wonder.
[:)]
What a nice...flush you have.
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[This isn't just teasing. This is bullying. Char will swear up and down that there's no ounce of petulant brat left in him by now, but he still whips his head back around to sneer at Lovecraft— as if that would dissuade him any.]
Are you sure you didn't lure me here to tease me? This feels like an intentional attack.
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[He means that. But even something like this is....admittedly a little fun.]
If you wish, I will...stop....I guess no one will comment on things like your blushing for you...hm.......
[He will be a nice innocent squid alas woe is him]
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...I think you would be the one suffering more for it if I told you to quit. But maybe you should feel bad, saying little things to shame me.
[He sounds more petulant than mad.]
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[Why would he ever shame a little star like this? He leans against his head, eyes gazing into eyes.]
Payback for saying...you would never...tire of me. Perhaps.
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I did say that, didn't I. And I don't regret speaking the truth.
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[Astounding, really. To look upon a beast, a god, and still want to settle close to its shadow.]
[A low sigh - his eyes crinkle a little, pleased.]
I suppose...I...am still getting used to it.
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[Maybe it's enough to see the good in each other, even if they'll never see it in themselves. A weighty sigh betrays him— he really can see himself too damn well in those deep dark eyes. Somehow, it wouldn't feel right to look away.]
In time, I'd like to think the way others see you will be easier to bear. That you'll learn to trust all the good that they see.
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[His hand goes up, cups the other's cheek, before he presses his lips against the tip of his nose.]
I have lived for...many years. Time does not provide much. I am not good. I simply am...what I am.