[When was the last time his intuition had spoken so clearly to him?
This uneasy feeling gnaws at him, leading Char straight to the library. It doesn't take long to find Fandaniel tucked away in some obscure corner. Good. This location will do nicely for an interrogation conversation.]
Call it a gut feeling, but something tells me you haven't been behaving yourself.
[ Fandaniel's had enough of Moonstone's happy-get-along-family time in keeping Lilia awake through his concussion, hence him finding an abandoned corner in the library to nap. He is not typically one in need of sleep, but with how battered he's been this past week, the need to stop and rest can even catch up with one such as him. So here he is, slouching in a cozy chair, feet propped up on a little library table.
He does not wear his teacher outfit, nor any dresses, but his original clothes from home. The robe is off, however, laid out over the back of the chair instead, and that leaves him in the sleeveless grey tunic typically under it. It means the healing welts and bruises across his arms are bared to the world, but also the bandages wrapped about his right forearm.
Before Nishi arrived, he'd been half-asleep, dozing as it were, eyes shut, but at the sound of his voice? He cracks open one eye first, then the other, stirring to wakefulness and sitting up straighter in the chair. ]
Nishi!
[ He exclaims, immediately smiling at him. Shocking how he honestly sounds happy to see the other man. Maybe he even is? ]
Why, I'm not sure what you mean. I've not been up to anything I wouldn't normally be up to!
[Without waiting for an answer, Char takes Fandaniel's chin lightly between his fingers. The gesture is casual, almost lazy, but there's intent behind the ease. He tilts his head, studying him carefully, making it clear that he's in control of the conversation. Fandaniel has him in something of a mood, what with this 'bond' between them that keeps him effortlessly on edge.]
I'm curious, though... how exactly have you been spending your time while nursing those wounds?
[ Fandaniel allows it, same as he's allowed about everything else, though it isn't Char alone who gets to touch. He reaches up to touch his wrist, idly stroking his fingers along it. The question earns an amused little hum. How to answer? ]
I daresay I spent some time in the hot springs, but it was always depressingly alone. I should have invited you... It did do wonders for my back, however.
[ It will still take time for what was inflicted on him to heal, of course, but the relief of soaking in warm water, mm. Not something he can do anymore, now that he has open wounds that need to remain under stitch and bandage, though. ]
Handed out a few detentions, had a terrible time at Sika Madu's little camping night, hmm, what else? [ He drags it out. What else, what else? ] Ah, and I did have a little chat with that oaf Solomon after the trial, but that matters little. Say, why does he get to call you a little pet name and not I? What if I called you Casval instead?
[His eyes narrow at the sound of his given name — Casval — the one he consigned to the flames long ago. Behind the mask, his expression is unreadable, but the pressure in the air grows thick, heavy, and unmistakably hostile.
He doesn't flinch at Fandaniel's touch, doesn't move, but his stillness has teeth. This isn't indifference, but a warning. Some things are not toys to be played with, least of all the ghosts he's buried.]
Casval is not a pet name. It's a dead one.
[His voice sharpens as he presses on.]
Tell me... was it really that foolish little nickname he gave me that pierced you so deeply you lashed out? Or are you simply so desperate for attention you'll bite at anything within reach?
[ Fandaniel isn't oblivious to the warning lingering in the air. He can feel it, how heavy it hangs over their heads, but it won't convince him to do anything other than laugh as he says that. Certainly, he won't use the name again, if that's the case, but it doesn't change the insane urge to have something from the man who should be his and his alone.
The gentle touch on Nishi's wrist becomes a hold as he grabs onto it instead, grip tightening. ]
Oh, no, not only the name. How he looks at you. Talks to you. How he spent the night with you. I am no longer willing to share; thus did I make sure he knew exactly how I felt about him and you.
[His hand slips from Fandaniel's chin— he already has his rapt attention, no need to hold him in place. Even so, Fandaniel's grip around his wrist keeps him from pulling away. Char allows it, granting the attention he's after... at least until he settles himself.
If he settles at all.]
So you overstepped. You didn't just lose your composure— you acted on irrational feelings and hurt someone needlessly. Tell me... how did you imagine I would respond? Did you hope I'd be proud of you? Or was it enough just to cry out for attention?
[ And he does want it, he wants the attention, he wants it so badly that it doesn't even make sense to him. He shouldn't feel like this about anyone. This is nothing more than another tiny life, utterly meaningless, short, soon to die with naught to show for it, and yet, and yet, and yet, this has been getting worse from the night they realized they held one another's secrets.
His grip tightens further, almost painfully, and he surges to his feet with a grimace. His side burns with pain, a reminder of where Solomon gave as good as he got during their little skirmish. ]
Needlessly? Needlessly?! Solomon has been a thorn in my side from the very start of this little game! I restrained myself until I saw you... and him... Looking so friendly with one another...
[ Were they? Or was Fandaniel being delusional, seeing what wasn't there? He yanks at Char's wrist, trying to force him close to him. ]
I want you to look only at me. Only me until the time comes for you to finally kill me.
[ He's certainly pushing it. Without his magic, Fandaniel is nothing more than a small man with, perhaps, a fit enough build, sure enough, but he is no fighter. He is no Char. He's certainly in no real position to make demands, and yet he does, because he cannot help it. He feels desperate for his attention. He wants, and it has been so long, so very long since he has wanted anything or anyone at all. ]
[Fandaniel's grip is strong for a man in his state, but to Char it feels more like desperation than strength. He doesn't resist being pulled closer, though— he allows it, steady and unyielding, gaze sharp enough to cut. The demand is almost laughable, but the ache in the man's voice... that's much harder to dismiss.
For all his bluster, Fandaniel is trembling, not from power, but from want. Char recognizes it immediately. He's seen men beg for war, for peace, for recognition. This is no different. Another plea disguised as arrogance.]
You mistake obsession for resolve. Forcing my gaze won't keep it.
[He twists his wrist just so, testing the weak link in Fandaniel's hold. His tone drops lower, colder, yet not without weight.]
If what you want is my attention, earn it with more than jealous tantrums. I don't give myself to those who claw at me.
[ Char gives his wrist a twist, and Fandaniel will let it go, struggling to rein in how he feels.
The need for this man is a foreign intrusion, and it isn't as though he doesn't see that; the dilemma lies with how it allows him to finally feel something, something that isn't hate and misery, and to fight it feels horrible. He wants to want. He wants to desire. It's just unfortunate that Char has ended up being the focus of all of it. ]
Then what would you have me do to earn it? [ He's curious, at least, though he does doubt Char's requirements will be something he can easily meet. ] You know I would do anything. I already told you.
[The words "I would do anything" hang heavy, but Char has heard them before, in many mouths, for many reasons. They rarely ended well. He releases the last trace of tension in his wrist, now freed, but he doesn't step back. His lingering gaze is sharp and unyielding, but not dismissive. If Fandaniel expects to be indulged, he might be disappointed— Char's terms are far from easy. He will go out of his way for those who work with him, but what he expects in return is an equal level of commitment.]
Earn it by proving you can stand without leaning on me like a crutch. Show me you're more than a man begging for the grave.
[His voice carries no malice, only the weight of expectation. He's seen what obsession makes of men. He won't play executioner to another collapse, not when the proof of will lies in choosing life, even against despair.]
If you want my attention, then live in a way that demands it. Anything less, and you'll only ever be chasing shadows.
[ It's puzzling. Fandaniel doesn't feel as though he uses the man as a crutch. He still... functions? Outside of their interactions, causing his little problems, concerning those who, for some insane reason, view him fondly, and continuously picking fights with certain people. He needs Char for none of that. He still does things.
But every time he thinks about Char or sees Char or— ]
My, I believe you were more fun when you were intent on stuffing me into dresses. [ As well as stuffing other things, but he won't be outwardly crass for once. ] Must I contain my desire to be near you, then? It only ever draws me towards you, and I cannot help but want to make you mind me and only me.
Contain it if all it does is pull you into obsession. I won't be chained down by it.
[He's got ✨commitment issues✨ after all.
While the tone he takes is far from cruel, it leaves little room for misinterpretation. What he demands isn't possession, but proof of will. If Fandaniel wants his attention, he'll have to show it in the way he lives, not the way he clings.]
Live in a way that commands my regard. Do that, and you won't need to ask whether I'll look your way.
[ Fandaniel echoes the words. That's so... silly! Ridiculous! He wants to protest! He shouldn't have to do anything of the sort, and yet! Yet! He said he'd do anything, anything at all, for this man, to get this man to kill him.
As much as Char tries to part him from the very notion, it is impossible, but it doesn't mean he can't keep a handle on the violent little man with it.
He goes through a few different expressions, most of them negative, until he settles on something more neutral, more curious. ]
How will it be, then? You shun me while I behave and sit politely like some nice boy?
[only if he can he do donuts with the fandaniel bike
Some men are simply impossible to please, Fandaniel. Better to assume there's no satisfying Char than to scheme up ways to guarantee a swift and painless death by his hand.
He waits in patient silence while Fandaniel settles on an expression, on how to feel after being reprimanded for his little tantrum. Char can't be too harsh when the same madness sits inside of him, a mixture of his own deep-seated neuroses and what was borrowed from Fandaniel.]
Make productive use of your anger. Don't let it control you.
There are better causes to point a blade at than Solomon, whose only crimes are his obnoxious tendency to speak in half-truths and dole out silly nicknames. I won't profess to care for him any, but I doubt he did enough to truly warrant your outburst.
Anger? Anger. Anger. No, it is hate, to the very bone. Too easy it is to strike out against any of these pointless little lives, and Solomon was no different. If anything, he's worse, for the sin of being far too similar in age, in experience, in knowledge. Seeing him and Nishi banter so easily had been... ]
Dole out silly nicknames?
[ Wait, was that all it was? Here, Fandaniel pauses. Surely there was more to it. They must have... No? Were they not on friendly terms? ]
You don't profess any care... Truly? [ He eyes the man, trying to find a lie, a falsehood meant to safeguard Solomon, but he isn't sure. ] Come now, there must have been something. I do not imagine such trysts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 2: post-exe
This uneasy feeling gnaws at him, leading Char straight to the library. It doesn't take long to find Fandaniel tucked away in some obscure corner. Good. This location will do nicely for a
n interrogationconversation.]Call it a gut feeling, but something tells me you haven't been behaving yourself.
no subject
He does not wear his teacher outfit, nor any dresses, but his original clothes from home. The robe is off, however, laid out over the back of the chair instead, and that leaves him in the sleeveless grey tunic typically under it. It means the healing welts and bruises across his arms are bared to the world, but also the bandages wrapped about his right forearm.
Before Nishi arrived, he'd been half-asleep, dozing as it were, eyes shut, but at the sound of his voice? He cracks open one eye first, then the other, stirring to wakefulness and sitting up straighter in the chair. ]
Nishi!
[ He exclaims, immediately smiling at him. Shocking how he honestly sounds happy to see the other man. Maybe he even is? ]
Why, I'm not sure what you mean. I've not been up to anything I wouldn't normally be up to!
[ That in itself is probably not behaving. ]
no subject
[Without waiting for an answer, Char takes Fandaniel's chin lightly between his fingers. The gesture is casual, almost lazy, but there's intent behind the ease. He tilts his head, studying him carefully, making it clear that he's in control of the conversation. Fandaniel has him in something of a mood, what with this 'bond' between them that keeps him effortlessly on edge.]
I'm curious, though... how exactly have you been spending your time while nursing those wounds?
[His voice is low, measured.]
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I daresay I spent some time in the hot springs, but it was always depressingly alone. I should have invited you... It did do wonders for my back, however.
[ It will still take time for what was inflicted on him to heal, of course, but the relief of soaking in warm water, mm. Not something he can do anymore, now that he has open wounds that need to remain under stitch and bandage, though. ]
Handed out a few detentions, had a terrible time at Sika Madu's little camping night, hmm, what else? [ He drags it out. What else, what else? ] Ah, and I did have a little chat with that oaf Solomon after the trial, but that matters little. Say, why does he get to call you a little pet name and not I? What if I called you Casval instead?
no subject
He doesn't flinch at Fandaniel's touch, doesn't move, but his stillness has teeth. This isn't indifference, but a warning. Some things are not toys to be played with, least of all the ghosts he's buried.]
Casval is not a pet name. It's a dead one.
[His voice sharpens as he presses on.]
Tell me... was it really that foolish little nickname he gave me that pierced you so deeply you lashed out? Or are you simply so desperate for attention you'll bite at anything within reach?
no subject
[ Fandaniel isn't oblivious to the warning lingering in the air. He can feel it, how heavy it hangs over their heads, but it won't convince him to do anything other than laugh as he says that. Certainly, he won't use the name again, if that's the case, but it doesn't change the insane urge to have something from the man who should be his and his alone.
The gentle touch on Nishi's wrist becomes a hold as he grabs onto it instead, grip tightening. ]
Oh, no, not only the name. How he looks at you. Talks to you. How he spent the night with you. I am no longer willing to share; thus did I make sure he knew exactly how I felt about him and you.
no subject
If he settles at all.]
So you overstepped. You didn't just lose your composure— you acted on irrational feelings and hurt someone needlessly. Tell me... how did you imagine I would respond? Did you hope I'd be proud of you? Or was it enough just to cry out for attention?
no subject
His grip tightens further, almost painfully, and he surges to his feet with a grimace. His side burns with pain, a reminder of where Solomon gave as good as he got during their little skirmish. ]
Needlessly? Needlessly?! Solomon has been a thorn in my side from the very start of this little game! I restrained myself until I saw you... and him... Looking so friendly with one another...
[ Were they? Or was Fandaniel being delusional, seeing what wasn't there? He yanks at Char's wrist, trying to force him close to him. ]
I want you to look only at me. Only me until the time comes for you to finally kill me.
[ He's certainly pushing it. Without his magic, Fandaniel is nothing more than a small man with, perhaps, a fit enough build, sure enough, but he is no fighter. He is no Char. He's certainly in no real position to make demands, and yet he does, because he cannot help it. He feels desperate for his attention. He wants, and it has been so long, so very long since he has wanted anything or anyone at all. ]
no subject
For all his bluster, Fandaniel is trembling, not from power, but from want. Char recognizes it immediately. He's seen men beg for war, for peace, for recognition. This is no different. Another plea disguised as arrogance.]
You mistake obsession for resolve. Forcing my gaze won't keep it.
[He twists his wrist just so, testing the weak link in Fandaniel's hold. His tone drops lower, colder, yet not without weight.]
If what you want is my attention, earn it with more than jealous tantrums. I don't give myself to those who claw at me.
no subject
The need for this man is a foreign intrusion, and it isn't as though he doesn't see that; the dilemma lies with how it allows him to finally feel something, something that isn't hate and misery, and to fight it feels horrible. He wants to want. He wants to desire. It's just unfortunate that Char has ended up being the focus of all of it. ]
Then what would you have me do to earn it? [ He's curious, at least, though he does doubt Char's requirements will be something he can easily meet. ] You know I would do anything. I already told you.
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Earn it by proving you can stand without leaning on me like a crutch. Show me you're more than a man begging for the grave.
[His voice carries no malice, only the weight of expectation. He's seen what obsession makes of men. He won't play executioner to another collapse, not when the proof of will lies in choosing life, even against despair.]
If you want my attention, then live in a way that demands it. Anything less, and you'll only ever be chasing shadows.
no subject
But every time he thinks about Char or sees Char or— ]
My, I believe you were more fun when you were intent on stuffing me into dresses. [ As well as stuffing other things, but he won't be outwardly crass for once. ] Must I contain my desire to be near you, then? It only ever draws me towards you, and I cannot help but want to make you mind me and only me.
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[He's got ✨commitment issues✨ after all.
While the tone he takes is far from cruel, it leaves little room for misinterpretation. What he demands isn't possession, but proof of will. If Fandaniel wants his attention, he'll have to show it in the way he lives, not the way he clings.]
Live in a way that commands my regard. Do that, and you won't need to ask whether I'll look your way.
[
It's alright, Fandaniel. Char is a car guy too.]no subject
what about a dope ass motorcycle guy tho :(]In a way that commands your regard?
[ Fandaniel echoes the words. That's so... silly! Ridiculous! He wants to protest! He shouldn't have to do anything of the sort, and yet! Yet! He said he'd do anything, anything at all, for this man, to get this man to kill him.
As much as Char tries to part him from the very notion, it is impossible, but it doesn't mean he can't keep a handle on the violent little man with it.
He goes through a few different expressions, most of them negative, until he settles on something more neutral, more curious. ]
How will it be, then? You shun me while I behave and sit politely like some nice boy?
no subject
only if he can he do donuts with the fandaniel bikeSome men are simply impossible to please, Fandaniel. Better to assume there's no satisfying Char than to scheme up ways to guarantee a swift and painless death by his hand.
He waits in patient silence while Fandaniel settles on an expression, on how to feel after being reprimanded for his little tantrum. Char can't be too harsh when the same madness sits inside of him, a mixture of his own deep-seated neuroses and what was borrowed from Fandaniel.]
Make productive use of your anger. Don't let it control you.
There are better causes to point a blade at than Solomon, whose only crimes are his obnoxious tendency to speak in half-truths and dole out silly nicknames. I won't profess to care for him any, but I doubt he did enough to truly warrant your outburst.
no subject
isn't that what bikes are forAnger? Anger. Anger. No, it is hate, to the very bone. Too easy it is to strike out against any of these pointless little lives, and Solomon was no different. If anything, he's worse, for the sin of being far too similar in age, in experience, in knowledge. Seeing him and Nishi banter so easily had been... ]
Dole out silly nicknames?
[ Wait, was that all it was? Here, Fandaniel pauses. Surely there was more to it. They must have... No? Were they not on friendly terms? ]
You don't profess any care... Truly? [ He eyes the man, trying to find a lie, a falsehood meant to safeguard Solomon, but he isn't sure. ] Come now, there must have been something. I do not imagine such trysts.