magicalglowstick | Ryslig Inbox

Yeah.

[ Said to the tune of no shit, but if there's anyone on this peninsula he can temper his sarcasm for and who deserves the effort, it's the elf who's saved his ass more than once.

An elf who also tried to drunkenly make out with him a couple weeks ago— But that's besides the point. Rafe caught him before he could and nothing's been said about the matter since. He'd almost asked the next day whether or not Fenris even remembered that night but...he's refrained. Either he had which was its own luck and thus would've only invited questions, or he hadn't and was acting like had in which case asking would be pointing straight at the eight-hundred-pound lizard in the room. ]

Can go shopping or something after all this dies down. Not like we're paying rent here.

[Fenris definitely remembers. It's part of why he doesn't give too much of a fuss about his sleeping arrangement, or why he doesn't fight to continue ignoring his hoarding. The last thing he wants to do is become a burden. It didn't work so well for him last time and he's not going to go down that road with Rafe. He's lucky he's even talking to him after what he tried to do at the party. He doesn't want to be a mistake.]

To be honest, I'm not sure I would find a regular bed much comfort anymore.

[The idea of a pile of soft things seems way more appealing.]

But you are right about the storage. I hadn't realized how out of hand it has become. I'm sorry.

I'm sure there's got to be beds made to satisfy.... slightly transformed tastes.

[ Can't hurt to go looking as opposed to this nest with zero lumbar support which will eventually fuck with his back. ]

Look, you don't have to apologize for it. No harm, no foul. [ Totally talking about the imitation magpie act. Yep. ] Just— Something to fix for the future.

I suspect there are a lot of things that need fixing for the future.

[He's not sure what changes, psychologically speaking, that Rafe may be dealing with at the moment, but whatever they may be he's handling them well. To Fenris, Rafe still remains the same as he had been when they met on Brasa. Obviously not physically, but that matters very little, if at all. But himself?

Not much to say on that aside from he knows he's not handling it as well as he should be.]

I'll try my best.

[Definitely not talking about any one specific thing. Nope.]

[ Damn it, it'd have been such a cakewalk to not talk about this. Really, it would've been. But Fenris makes it clear in his tone and his everything else that they're talking around what they're talking around, and that he's set to beat himself up about it same as all the other bullshit that's happened to him that he's told Rafe about. And Rafe's told him where the blame laid with that other, so he can do the same here.

Maybe it'll be easier for Fenris to acknowledge Pink Fuck's effects than Hawke's. Lord knows it can't be harder. Right? ]

Christ on a cracker. [ Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhales purposefully. ] No, there's not a lot. Hoarding whatever stuff you want is fine, all it needs are some boxes or bins or whatever.

[ His hand drops, by habit going to his hip — where there might've been a holster and a pistol before, now there's a pair of gauntlets clipped to his belt for easy access if he should leave the house. ]

The only time you've shown any lapse in judgment was when you were well out your mind on horse tranquilizers which— newsflash? —is the norm when on horse tranquilizers. I get you're freaked by what could've happened but the fact remains that it didn't so. You're fine. Relax.

[Fenris glances over at Rafe, surprised and mildly alarmed, clearly happy to continue to dance around the subject until he got his apology and promise to do better out in the open.]

I am not freaked out. If anyone should be it's you. The way I behaved towards you was unacceptable and foolish. I was well enough aware of my own actions that I should have ceased immediately.

Trust me, I'm freaked enough checking the mirror every morning.

[ The bitterness slips out in a mutter before Rafe can stop himself, self-loathing in every syllable before he shakes his head. Not the time or place— The both of them are full aware of what he is now, they don't need to revisit the disgusting fact of it. He sets his jaw and then continues. ]

Foolish? Yeah, but you "ceased" before you actually tongued a corpse so just focus on the relief there rather than... The rest. That's the important part.

[It takes Fenris a moment before he realizes while they are talking about the same thing, they're still not completely on the same page. Fenris is trying to focus on the fact that in a drunken and drugged up stupor he tried to stick his disgusting tongue down Rafe's throat twice, but Rafe seems to be focused on...some relief that Fenris should be feeling for not having done it?

The blue scales of his brow line knit together in confusion.]

It's not about me, Rafe. It's about how uncomfortable I surely made you feel. I let my own desires crowd my judgement — that horrendous pink drink had little to do with it.

I'm trying to assure you that you won't have to worry about it again. I will control myself around you.

[Glossing over the way Rafe casually and bitterly refers to himself as a corpse because that has nothing to do with anything. It's not something Fenris even considers, which should probably be odd, but it's not. It's just how it is. Rafe is Rafe. He's not a corpse.]

Fen. The hell are you talking about. [ Waving a hand as if to clear the confusion from the air, his voice is flat with incomprehension, fully unable to wrap his head around what he's hearing. First and foremost, though— ] I don't get uncomfortable with making out.

[ Physicality is nothing new, hasn't been since the locker rooms of boarding schools who took in more in tuition than some national GNPs, had grown into something Rafe always took for granted. If he'd an interest, he'd express it to the fullest extent it was reciprocated and it most often was— But that was before, in a body he'd worked hard to build and sculpt and maintain to its best condition. Not in this warped mockery of what he used to be, skin literally falling off after rotting away. Of course Rafe is sure that there would've still been some determined souls willing to put up with that back home, desire for his money and his name outweighing the revulsion, but there's no such carrot here that could make up for the stick they'd get.

And yet here's Fenris talking out of his ass as if the pink-shaded beer goggles (ketamine goggles? whatever) weren't even a factor. Which...again. The hell is he talking about. ]

There's nothing to control.

Of course there is.

[Rafe makes a frustrated noise, which almost sounds like it has a hiss to it, but that's something he entirely chooses to ignore.]

You're — fasta vass — [He can't believe he's going to have to say all of this, because obviously he hasn't been making himself clear enough for this entire conversation.] Those things I said to you when I was acting like a drunken fool...that all came from me. I meant every word. There is a reason I followed you back on Brasa, and why I continue to stick by you. I admire your intelligence, your brevity, your—

[He's doing it again. Or, he's liable to start doing it again if he goes on another tirade on why Rafe is deserving of a partner far better than the one he ended up with.]

Qualities that I find quite attractive. And when I acted on this attraction not once but twice I made a fool of myself. I'm turning into a scalely monstrosity, and I've been surely acting the part as well...for all I know in a month's time I will be nothing more than a mindless beast.

And you've not only remained yourself, but patient with my...with me.

[ It isn't the first time Rafe's heard that hiss, though it is the first it's been directed at him. Or because of him. As such he barely blinks at the sound, not when there's all the rest that follows out of Fenris's mouth. That is blink-worthy if not for the apparent intent then sure as hell for the sheer volume which...seems to only be a fraction of it, from the way Fenris seems to stop himself.

Silence stretches on once the elf stops talking because Rafe can't stop staring. Isn't as if he can do anything else considering his brain is too busy flashing blue screens trying to process Fenris's words, all incompatible with what he knows. Eventually, a response finally puts itself together and makes it way out of Rafe's throat. ]

Bullshit.

[ A disbelieving huff of a laugh, a grimacing smile waiting for the punchline to what must obviously be a joke. ]

I mean, you didn't even want to fuck around before I looked like— How could you possibly want to now?

[For the first time Fenris actually holds that stare from his spot on the makeshift bedding. Part of him, no, all of him...is terrified by the response he's sure to get. Disgust, or something along those lines, but he holds Rafe's gaze because he's putting it all out there and either things will blow up in his face so spectacularly and it all comes crumbling down here or...maybe he can salvage it so Rafe doesn't kick him out and end their partnership.

The response he gets is not the one he's expecting and it shows by the way his response delays as his brain tries to find the right words to jump on this knew train of thought.]

I...[What is he talking about—] What...makes you think that I didn't want to before?

I told you I was open to screw when you first showed up with the idea to work together and you said that wasn't what you meant, [ Rafe reminds him before tacking on: ] after your ears went redder than chili peppers. Was a pretty clear no to me.

[ And that was the end of that, far as he was concerned. Rafe had naturally prioritized finding his feet in this new place over getting his dick wet, thinking it would only be a short matter of time before he found a way out of here. A fool thought then and if he'd known then what he knows now—

Pointless to think about what-ifs. Doesn't help anything. ]

And it wasn't.

[He supposes he can see where Rafe's line of thinking is, though Fenris doesn't necessarily see that as having expressed disinterest. Not that it should have mattered. It would have been highly inappropriate anyway.]

It was only my second day knowing you, Rafe. I don't...[Ugh. He doesn't like having to explain this.] It was different then than it is now, is all.

Yeah, I still had a pulse and didn't look like roadkill after a three-day-weekend.

[ If anything, Fenris should be glad that he hadn't started anything he would've wanted to knock off once he'd seen what Rafe would turn into. ]

The difference was that I didn't know if I could trust you...with that.

I do now.

Trust me with what?

[ Processing.

Processing.

Processing... ]

...Sex?

[ Don't mind him, this is just the inevitable confusion that comes of not giving two shits about who he sleeps with. ]

Edited (so i didn't want to double my prepositions sue me) 2020-10-11 07:03 (UTC)

[Fenris averts his gaze again, leaning back into the nest of pillows he made for his back and draping one arm over a bent knee.]

It's not just that. [He shouldn't have said that to begin with.] I'm a slave. It is inappropriate for me to make such a pass at you, or anyone. It would have been different had it actually come from you and not a misunderstanding.

Jesus Chr-

[ This again. At least the confusion is easily left behind for this old chestnut, his own potent self-loathing redirected towards the snaking hedge-maze of programming Fenris can't seem to find the out of even now. ]

You're not a fucking slave! You want to make a pass at any man, woman, tree, sewer grate, whatever — you can and piss off to the bullshit in your head telling you otherwise.

[Fenris doesn't want to even think about navigating out of said hedge-maze, so he redirects his focus, even if it's on the subject that initially caused him embarrassment, shame, and a fear that he truly messed up.]

I did.

[He means you, you jackass.]

[ His eyes flare brighter in expectation of whatever bullshit roundabout you don't understand Fenris will inevitably throw back in his face, but their glow dims considerably when instead he's met with just those two small words. ]

You were drunk, [ he can't help but reiterate. ] Hopped up on tranqs. I'm talking about an actual pass based on actual interest.

[ Even with Fenris's now repeated statements to the contrary, it's still impossible for Rafe to wrap his head around it. Not when he knows this one simple fact and the disconnect is beginning to show in the knitting of his brows, the uncertainty instead of calculation in his glowing eyes. ]

It was.

[There's an underlying of frustration in his words as he tries to reiterate what he's been saying this whole time. Or trying to.]

The only thing being out of sorts did was make me act on my interest instead of keeping it inside where it belongs.

[ Mouth pressed into a thin line, he stares down that frustration. He's some of his own, to be honest, if only because this is just sex and since when has he ever had to do this much talking for it? When has it ever been awkward like this? ]

The reason I stopped you was because you were off your ass and I didn't want you making some bonehead mistake you'd regret. But that was the only reason I stopped you.

[ He doesn't stress that that was, again, the only reason he assumes Fenris acted that way to begin with, but it's a near thing. Restraint is found in the fact that he's said too much already and while he's full aware that he's...what he is, he doesn't want to say it aloud any more than he has to. But there. It's said.

The ball is back squarely in Fenris's court and in Rafe's experience, it can stay there. It's easy enough to say a thing after the fact, what would've been done if only— Whole different ballgame to back it up when presented the chance. ]

[The look of surprise Fenris gives Rafe is half from the fact that what Rafe is saying means that, had Fenris not been drunk, he wouldn't have pulled back from the kiss. Even though he's covered in scales like an overgrown lizard, even though his tongue is literally split down the middle — even more so than it had been at the party, admittedly, even though he has horns sticking out of his head...the one thing that stopped him was that Fenris was drunk. That Rafe was considering his well being, which is not something the elf is used to at all. That's the other half of the surprise.

Back in Tevinter, it didn't matter what he thought or felt.

Even when he expressed doubts to Hawke about some of the choices he made, Hawke heard his peace but did he listen? He certainly heard him when he first said the last place he wanted to enter was the young mage's nightmare, and yet Hawke chose him as one of the lucky few to go anyway. But that's normal. Who is Fenris, exactly? Danarius is a powerful and respected magister, Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall — he knows considerably less about Rafe, he realizes, but there's something about him and what he does know that makes Fenris realize he's yet again lucky to be considered a partner to such a man.

And this man just told him — has been telling him — that what he thinks matters.

Fenris pushes himself to his feet, clawed hand holding onto a wooden beam as he's still getting used to moving around on his talon-feet. He takes a step towards Rafe but stops, his markings emitting a subtle glow in the darkness of the attic, leaving the room only illuminated by him and a couple of strategically placed lamps (he doesn't like it too bright in here).

His voice is quiet, thoughtful, but there's something barely restrained about the way he speaks.]

I only regret that I didn't do anything when I first had the chance.

So then do something now.

[ He holds Fenris's gaze and his chin tips up to keep it with Fenris's increasing height, a defiant stare daring him to prove all these declarations true even as his jaw clenches with the ready expectation to be right. Again. As always.

Rafe prides himself on seeing the sense of things, of being able to break down a situation into its base components. Current state, causal factors, individual motive, probable action, likely consequences. It's a skill others used for the boardroom or scoping out a financial quarter as it dipped and soared along to sketch out the Dow, but he uses it for everything. Why not? Time and again it proved correct, proved Rafe correct, with such a minimal margin of error that it oughtn't even be counted.

And so he applies the same precise scalpel to this. To now. To Fenris... And comes up uncertain. On its face it's impossible for any number of reasons: their arrival here in the first place; their disparate species, fiction coming to pointy-eared life before his eyes; their continuing transformations into things best left to that fiction. Yet still the most improbable of all still hangs over everything else: that Rafe is doing all these calculations and predictions and weighing in a dead brain, in a dead body, skin peeling off in patches.

Second most improbable is any truth to Fenris stating that he'd still hold interest in that — and never mind the certainty brimming in the words every time he's said them.

So then why say it? Why walk closer—? Rafe's eyes flash cool and bright as he attempts to build a narrative that fits. Fenris, stubborn to cling to use and control in spite of the alcohol and drugs, but thinking too highly of Rafe's ego to want to disparage him by admitting the disgust he has to feel? Hence the repeated assurances— But aha! A pause. Seemingly ready proof of his theory, that Fenris needs a moment to steel himself to get any closer. Maybe his new nose can smell the decay that must linger around Rafe, has to be in his current state. ]

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cw: past drug use

cw: past drug use

cw: past drug use

cw: past drug use

cw: past drug use, body dysmorphia, skin shedding

cw: past drug use, body dysmorphia

cw: past drug use, body dysmorphia

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cw; implications of sexual abuse

cw; implications of sexual abuse

cw; implications of sexual abuse

cw: implications of sexual abuse

cw: implications of sexual abuse

cw: implications of sexual abuse, past alcohol/drug use

cw: implications of sexual abuse, past alcohol/drug use, body dysmorphia

cw: implications of sexual abuse, past alcohol/drug use, body dysmorphia