sterngaze | open post

[ Cardan is mid-stretch when Liem starts talking about wicked smiles and... Faerie trickery? It takes him a moment to process the sentiment; he blinks, thrown off guard for the second time in as many minutes, this time not bothering to hide his surprise.

It gets worse, somehow.

When Liem suggests they get out of the house, suspicion starts fomenting in the back of his head. By the time he tells Cardan he's cleared his (their?) calendar, he is absolutely certain this is a trap. Perhaps Liem and Gusairne have finally found common ground in their mutual hatred of Cardan, and the stodgy vampire is waiting around the corner with a clubbing stick -- by this point, nothing seems particularly unlikely to him.

But.

He's curious. ]

What did you have in mind, exactly?

[Liem almost smiles at the naked surprise his sentiment seems to have evoked in Cardan; clearly whatever he was expected to say in response to his assumption, it wasn't anything like that. He wonders if it's the sentiment that his husband finds surprising, or just hearing it come from Liem's mouth.

He'd rather not seem too flip, though. He didn't tramp down to the stables on no sleep just to amuse himself at his husband's expense, whatever Cardan might be expecting.

And, it occurs to him, he might be expecting just that. Best to be up front, then.]

Mostly I thought we might get away from everyone at the house, and enjoy some parts of the estate you haven't seen yet.

[He frowns, briefly, unhappily aware of the implications his suggestion might carry coming from somebody who is potentially very angry. But… no, surely Cardan isn't actually suspicious of him in that way. It would be catastrophically stupid to embarrass Liem the way he did if he thought there was a chance he might be dangerous, and whatever might be true of Cardan, he doesn't think him a stupid man.]

We could take a ride, or just walk the grounds if you prefer.

[He spreads his hands a little, fleetingly.]

You were right: we don't spend much time together outside of work. So—would you like to?

[ Every word Liem speaks is more unfathomable than the next. Cardan would have been less astounded if his husband had asked him to run away to a circus together. But if it's a trick, it is the clumsiest, most brazen trick in existence, and Cardan has not come to associate either of those terms with Liem. And besides--

It has been some time since Cardan's been outdoors -- properly, truly outdoors, not just going from building to ride and vice versa. His recent schedule of politicking-ledgers-harassment has hardly allowed for it; what little free time he has is spent sleeping or leering at Liem from his study's couch. And the part of Cardan that's nature, that's magic, is a little parched for the wild part of a forest: for looming trees and feathery ferns, for bird song and the din of insects labouring in the dark.

Yes.

Yes, he would like to.

The moth bumps against his hip, insistently, its wings attempting to spread in the confined space. Cardan looks down -- having forgotten where he was, for the novelty of being asked out on a walk -- and huffs out a soft chuckle. ]

...how would you like flying?

[ He'll look up at Liem; the half-smile that tugs at his mouth is oddly cautious. ]

My ornery pet would like to stretch its wings, I imagine.

[When Liem had suggested the idea of a ride, he had not been imagining that it would be on the back of a giant moth. As he glances at the furry creature looming restlessly behind Cardan, he trades some of the weariness in his expression for surprise, like he hadn’t realized the beast might be anything other than his husband’s drinking buddy and temporary pillow. Somehow it had not occurred to him that a trip on moth-back was an option, and now that the idea has been floated, he is… not at all sure how he would like it, actually.

He has never flown before, on anything.]

That would be… novel.

[Possibly exciting; possibly terrifying. He suspects he won’t know which until they’re in the air, which is a prospect that makes him a little nervous. But he had meant to leave the particulars up to Cardan’s preference, and he has just enough optimism left in him to hope that accompanying him on an outing like this might actually make his husband happy.

He smiles with a faint, playful wariness.]

Should I be concerned about its temper?

[ He thinks flying is one way to mitigate unexpected surprises, anyway. Not being on land means there are fewer land-based traps that anyone can spring, though more and more he's convinced that this isn't, in fact, what's on his husband's mind.

But more than that, more than protection--

To his own mild surprise, Cardan thinks he might enjoy showing Liem a little bit of Faerie. A little glimpse of magic, of something wild and strange and unconstrained. Maybe he's just being nostalgic for a home he was never really that happy in, but so be it. ]

Not nearly as much as about mine.

[ The moth doesn't have teeth, for one. And though it is large, it's also rather plush; even the white-and-grey wings look a little fuzzy.

Usually, he has to bribe it to do anything at all, but it seems like the day's excesses have mollified the creature. Cardan brushes past Liem to push open the stall gate -- carefully not thinking about the closeness of their bodies -- and the moth moves after him, somewhat impatiently. Once it has maneuvered its body out, it takes a moment to stretch its large wings.

If Liem was hoping to come out of this untouched by its glittery dust, he will find himself disappointed.

There are no reins, nor saddle. The elf merely climbs on the creature's back, and then holds out his hand, apparently intending to help Liem up. ]

[Liem's smile grows a little more wry, a little more careful as Cardan crosses the stall to unlatch the gate next to him. No, it isn't just the moth's temper he's concerned about, for all that he imagines being thrown from one midair would be far more inconvenient than being bucked from a testy horse. His eyes follow his husband out of the stall and into the night air.]

Well. That's only natural.

[Despite an absolutely outrageous abundance of plush fur, the soft looking creature manages to look majestic as it unfolds its broad, pale wings. Liem waits outside the span of its wings as Cardan turns to it and, without relying on any silliness like a saddle or even reins, simply climbs atop its back.

It's hard to reconcile, looking at him perched there, that five minutes ago he was sleeping off the day's excess in a stable stall. There is an otherworldly air about him that is not at all diminished by the glitter in his hair or the informal state of his attire, and when he offers a hand down to help him, Liem is not at all convinced he's actually going to be back in time for his late-night meetings if he joins him on this ride.

But it is far too late now to change his mind. Liem draws closer and, placing his hand in Cardan's and another on the moth's furry back, he climbs up behind him.]

[ Cardan's only response to the assertion is a huffed laugh.

Liem's ascent should be relatively easy, at least: despite his own slim frame, Cardan doesn't seem to struggle with pulling up his weight. Once his husband is perched behind him, Cardan will place that same hand on his own waist. ]

Hold on to me.

[ And he will, in fact, carefully wait for Liem to secure himself before he taps the moth's side and commands: ] Up.

[ Up it goes.

It is not a sedate endeavour: first it shivers, warming up dormant muscles for the task ahead. The giant wings tremble, then move, and air ripples over the fuzzy surface as the moth begins to flap them. They move something like sails, and the noise they make isn't dissimilar. Cardan's warning about holding on becomes pertinent almost immediately: in getting off the ground, the moth's head tilts up until they are on a precarious incline. Fortunately, it doesn't last -- as they rise further, climbing above the roof of the estate, above the line of treetops, the moth's body will even out to horizontal.

The night is moonlit. Though the landscape would be difficult for mortal eyes to make out, neither darkness nor distance present much of a barrier to Cardan, and he suspects similar might be true for Liem. He looks out over the grounds, to the dark line separating manicured space from the forest surrounding, and feels a flutter in his chest. ]

Where to? [ He has to raise his voice a little above the moth's wings, turning his head back to glance at his husband. ]

[Cardan doesn’t need to ask twice for Liem to hold on to him; Liem is far too uncertain about what is about to happen to deny himself something to hold as they take off. The furry back beneath him doesn’t have quite enough grip for his liking, and he isn’t certain what kind of motion he should expect from it. Despite the way his husband’s scent reminds Liem of things he’d rather not recall just now, he slides his arms around his waist and leans forward until his chest is almost flush with the slim lines of his back.

Though by the light touch of his grip, he seems to have come under the impression that the man he’s holding has skin made of glass.

This lasts for about as long as it takes for the moth to get warmed up and launch itself into the air. The moment their mount tips its face up to ascend into the night sky, Liem’s grip snaps elastic-tight; his stomach drops straight down and stays there as they clear the trees, leaving him to wonder if they’ll need to collect it on their return. If his heart could ever be bothered to beat, Cardan would be able to feel it juddering against his back.

Once they’ve levelled out, it is with great dignity that he peels his cheek off of Cardan’s dust-coated shoulder to survey the stretch of trees below them. The landscape from this vantage looks startlingly alien, and when he looks down at it for too long his chest starts to feel squeezed tight, so he opts to look at the moon instead.

It’s a moment before he can summon an answer for Cardan’s question.]

For now? East. [He tips his face towards his husband’s ear. Dawn is a distant promise at the moment; there is nothing in that direction now but the silvery expanse of the forest.]

[ It is not Cardan's first time with a passenger. He used to smuggle Balekin's servants out this way, unglamouring them and then taking them to the mainland, out of Elfhame. They would cling, too, terrified by the return of their senses, by the height, by the horrors of their time in service. He hated them touching him, though it was necessary.

He doesn't hate it now. Though Liem's grip on him feels like a vice, and though for a little while he feels like he cannot draw a full breath, there is something satisfying about it. He's pretty sure that in Liem's thoughts, he features as an insubstantial, slippery menace at best. Certainly no one dependable, not the person he'd expect to anchor him.

By the time he notices he's grinning, Liem's terror appears to be receding.

Cardan relays his instruction to the moth, and it changes direction accordingly, its large body oddly graceful in the air. For a few moments, the rhythmic flap of his wings will be their only accompaniment. Then Cardan will speak again. ]

If you weren't seducing a wicked stranger, what did you do?

[ It is, perhaps, an indelicate question to ask, but it's not like Liem can get off the moth. Or strangle Cardan without consequence.

He does his best to only sound curious, anyway. ]

[As long as he keeps his gaze trained on the sky, the horizon, or on Cardan, Liem finds that their ride is not too harrowing. Now that the creature beneath them has reached a height it seems comfortable with, it makes for a decently steady seat; even when it turns to face the eastern stars, it banks with an artful grace that belies its impressive size, carrying its passengers gently with it. He convinces the muscles of his arms to relax his death grip on his husband, approaching something that could more believably be called a lover’s embrace—an irony, as his husband could not in any honesty be called his lover.

He is still not in any danger of letting go.

Elder vampires of lineages such as his often gain mastery of certain hereditary magics: the power to ride the breeze as a ghostly mist, or flap through the darkness in the form of a bat. Perhaps if he were more experienced, and had nurtured his power in that way, the view from the moth’s back wouldn’t trouble him in the slightest. As things stand, he is almost glad of the chance to answer Cardan’s question. Awkward though it is, it does at least give him something else to think about.]

Work.

[This is technically not a lie. Liem did get some paltry amount of work done toward the beginning of the several hours he spent holed up in his study. But even after last night, he is not so ungracious as to simply give Cardan a one-word answer.]

I came home, and I spent most of the day in my study. But… as you may expect, I didn’t actually get much done.

[His lingering dissatisfaction with how their last interaction went cannot be anything but obvious, but Liem tries to sound neutral about the whole thing. Cardan saw his true feelings on the matter plainly enough that night; he has no desire to revisit them.]

That is not what I expected, [ is all Cardan says.

For once, he finds he has no desire to poke further at Liem's answer, unsatisfying as it is. But then, would he have been happier to find Liem had done something dramatic? Whatever want Cardan had for a reaction was sated by the scene in the bath, by seeing the colour high on Liem's face as Cardan's joke dawned on him.

It doesn't feel quite as triumphant as he'd thought it would.

Which means he doesn't wish to dwell on it, either. Instead, he surveys the land that stretches out beneath them; unlike his husband, he doesn't mind the thrill of being up high, of the wind tearing through his hair on this clear, beautiful night. Still, he does not wish to spend all their time up here, and when he spots a clearing large enough for the moth to land, he will direct it down.

It dives at his direction, though its landing is a little more gentle than the takeoff. ]

Edited 2022-11-22 04:04 (UTC)

[Whatever satisfaction Cardan gleans from indulging his curiosity about Liem's own day, he keeps it to himself. It's not the most thrilling answer he could have given, but if his husband wanted to sting his pride enough to leave a mark, even a temporary one, he has done so.

Though the more that mark fades, the harder it is to forget the thrill that preceded the sting; particularly with Cardan's body pressed so very close.

The trip down to the ground is only marginally less alarming than their journey up, for all that Liem can see it coming. It takes a few moments for him to be willing to release his riding partner even once they've landed, loath as he is to relinquish the comfort of a warm body to hold while his nerves continue to jitter beneath his skin. But he would still like to be on the ground, and after a moment Liem slides his arms free to lean back with a short sigh.]

Well, that was refreshing.

[The little jolt of evening terror has done wonders to wake him up at least, which will surely stand him in good stead for at least the time until they have to get back on the moth and fly back. Liem dismounts carefully, attempting not to bother their mount with his descent, and glances around the clearing in which they now find themselves. Their landing seems to have disturbed a blanket of fireflies, which now float excitedly amongst the ferns carpeting the space.

Oh, good; he does in fact know where they are. He glances back at Cardan, looking windblown and tentatively pleased.]

You've whisked us quite a distance from the house. It would take half the night to get back, if we had to walk.

[Hopefully the moth remains in good spirits.]

[ It seems strange for a vampire to be afraid. He’s been to enough of their revels now to know they are creatures of deadly strength and swiftness and menace, and though Cardan knows power is no cure for fear, the press of Liem’s body against his still feels like discovering a secret.

Refreshing gets Liem a short chuckle.

He slides off the moth’s back himself, boots landing among green fronds. For the moment, at least, the animal seems content not to move, aside from the slow moving of its antennae.

Liem’s assertion that they’re far away is pleasing. Cardan grins back – having, for once, abandoned his refuge of sly smiles and cool glares. Bathed in moonlight and glitter dust alike, surrounded by twinkling lights, Liem looks exceedingly charming. Cardan has to repress the urge to reach out and mess with his hair even more, his fingers twitchy at his side.

For a moment, he wonders if it could have been just like this. If, perhaps, without the shadow of the manor and their places in it looming indelibly over them, it would have been easier to take off just a bit more of his armor. There might have been fewer misunderstandings; they might not be still sleeping in the same bed like strangers.

Or not sleeping, he supposes, if Liem decides to make his absence a habit.

He reaches out anyway, though only to brush a bit of moth dust off of Liem’s cheek. ]

Then I will entrust myself to you.

[Liem does not trust that chuckle, and he does not trust that grin, despite his stated preference for menacing and unpredictable lovers. Or perhaps it’s because of his predilections that he still feels so hesitant. He does not want to let himself be charmed by Cardan, not when he’s so certain that it can only end badly for him. And, despite the aforementioned menace and unpredictability, there is much to be charmed by.

Vampire or Faerie, falling head-over-heels for someone you met at a party is always a bad idea. Doing the same for someone you met on the occasion of your wedding is unquestionably worse.

For a moment, the brush of fingers against his cheek bewilders him completely. He blinks at Cardan, who is iridescing rather more than normal, and lifts a hand belatedly to brush at his own cheek. When his fingers come away shimmering faintly, he thinks first of the glittery coating on Cardan’s shoulders after his snooze in the stall. Then he sees that much of his clothing has received the same treatment, and he realizes that he must now look every bit as glimmery as his husband.

Ah; he must look amusing indeed.]

Well then.

[He reaches out to lightly catch his husband’s hand, and lifts it so he can brush a kiss over his knuckles.]

As your escort, let me welcome you to my family’s part of the forest. I like to wander it sometimes, when Gusairne is being especially insufferable.

[ He’s a little surprised at the brush of cool lips against his fingers; the touch seems to linger on his skin. It’s odd to be courted when he’s so often played the role of the dashing prince, himself. What’s more is that it works, though the thoughts that cross Cardan’s mind regarding Liem’s mouth – and where he would prefer it – cannot be described as particularly princely. His fingers curl slightly against Liem’s hand, tightening just a touch.

Gusairne’s name prompts a soft snort from him. ]

He is capable of being more insufferable than this? Surely that isn’t possible. Flowers would wilt, birds would cease singing. The moon would rather cloak itself than show its face to such unpleasant sights.

He is a peril to beauty itself.

[ He is a peril to romance, too, Cardan imagines. At the same time, there is catharsis in shittalking their mutual irritant behind his back, for once. Usually Cardan only gets to do it to Gusairne’s face. ]

How either of us yet retain ours, I am not certain.

[The small, secretive smile that twitches at the corners of Liem’s mouth suggests that he is trying not to grin too openly at the thorough tenor of Cardan’s trash-talking. Even as an adult, now that his father’s seneschal is his subordinate, it’s still not a prudent habit to relax into—regardless of how apt his husband’s remarks may be.]

He does have a certain withering aura about him, [he agrees.] Though he has been in rare form of late.

[It’s not hard to pin down the source of Gusairne’s sour moods; he’s been especially unpleasant ever since he started having to report to Liem’s husband on top of reporting to Liem himself. He suspects Cardan is not unaware of this, given his apparent disdain for the man.]

But if Gusairne were capable of robbing fair folk of their beauty, my father surely wouldn’t waste his talents by insisting he work for me.

[Then, after a moment’s thought, he amends his statement.]

Actually, he’d still probably insist on it. He would just expect me to leash him and take him to more interesting places.

If he gave you leave to also muzzle the man, I may just be tempted to make it so.

[ If he notices Liem's suppressed mirth (he does), he makes no issue of it. They have many secrets between them; this one, at least, Cardan understands.

The more puzzling issue relates to Liem's mention of his father. It has not escaped Cardan's notice that Iago's decisions have a tendency to make his son's life challenging. At first, he'd thought it a mere by-blow of Iago's self-interest. Now, he's sometimes unsure if that's the whole of it.

Maybe one day he will ask Liem about it.

Today, tonight, he only threads his fingers through Liem's, and says, ]

Let us think of more pleasant things, before my lustre fades entirely. Where shall we go?

[Though Liem raises an eyebrow, he makes no further comment about the prospect of muzzling the house seneschal. Cardan is right; they need not spend their time thinking about Gusairne during the hours they've managed to win free of him. For now, the woods are calling.

For Liem, the draw of the woods has less to do with the greenness of the earth and the magic of old things than it does with the wild irregularity of its places and plants and creatures. No sensible hand had a say in the placement of the trees or the shape of the land beneath; the living things here owe no debts and report to no master. They simply are—and for a short while, when he is wandering between the rocks and trunks, he simply is too.]

You seem well lustred to me.

[He eyes the pearlescent sparkle on Cardan's cheeks, decorating his already-shining hair. But his fingers twine agreeably with his husband's, and he says,]

I know a place that isn't far from here. [He glances, briefly, at the moth.] Will our mount fly off and strand us if we leave it?

[ Cardan waves a dismissive hand. ]

It's formidably lazy. I cannot imagine why it would bother.

[ It is more likely for it to refuse to fly them back, but he figures he will deal with that if and when it becomes pertinent. Anyway, there are other options, though none of them involve Liem's tight embrace about him.

The moth certainly wouldn't be willing to trudge along with them, at any rate. And Cardan's eager to explore, to smell the forest's smells and listen to its nighttime choruses. So much so that he's actually just going to start walking; he imagines his husband will correct him if he finds he's being pulled in the wrong direction. ]

[That Cardan simply starts walking says more than anything else about the pointlessness of keeping an eye on his furry pet. Liem lets himself be towed along as they leave the clearing and the moth and the fireflies behind them, adjusting their course only slightly to make for a thin animal trail cutting through the trees.

Then, he simply follows Cardan and the terrain, ducking round the odd spreading fern or low-hanging branch, stepping over twigs and knobby roots and profusions of damp-loving mushrooms. Liem moves through the forest like a foreign predator, one used to prowling rather different climes but still gamely making the best of things amidst the greenery. The rules for hunting here are considerably different than in the polished halls and plush parlours of home, but sport is sport, and he’s had occasion to learn the sounds and habits of the most interesting wildlife at least.

The place that Liem steers them towards really isn’t all that far, but the journey there does require some amount of effort and navigation. When the musical burble of a creek reaches his ears, he turns them toward it. When they find the creek twisting through a shallow ravine, he leads them upstream, following it alongside. Their route leads up a steep, rocky slope with water tumbling past in a rush, and then finally to a broad green hilltop, where snatches of night sky are visible around the crown of a wide, fantastically gnarled oak tree.

Liem regards it with open pleasure.]

Here we are.

[ The subtle change in Liem's movement is interesting. It's also unexpected; Cardan has never traversed a forest with anyone other than other folk. His own steps are completely silent -- though he walks no differently than he would to cross a ballroom, the wood itself seems to move imperceptibly out of his way, allowing him to leave no trace of his passing.

Having Liem walk behind him, then, brings forth the uncanny sensation of being stalked, prickling at the back of his neck. He forgets, sometimes, that his husband is in his essence no different from the men and women he sees feasting on blood every fête, their beautiful faces as savage as any wolf's.

He's not sure if the reminder is thrilling or stressful.

But his thoughts are pulled away from the matter soon enough. Liem may find that their journey takes longer than he expects: Cardan is both easily distracted and stubbornly attentive at once. He will stop to brush the white bark of a birch, or listen to an owl's call for its mate, or poke at ferns that roll up to tight little spirals in response. The creek seems to delight him particularly.

Laying eyes on the oak and its hill, he will blink... and then lift his face to the breeze, like a hound trying to pick up a scent. He doesn't have to wonder why Liem likes it: it's beautiful and wondrous, like poetry writ into nature.

It also tugs at something painful in his chest. ]

...if I didn't know better, I'd suspect you had brought me to a faerie brugh.

[ Though he is certain that no court would settle on vampire lands. ]

[Liem takes distinct enjoyment in watching Cardan wander the wood. Although he knows his husband cannot have ever set foot in this patch of woodland before, he seems at home here; as they linger in places to let Cardan take in some detail, acquaint himself with a tree or fern or rill, the impression Liem has is of an observer listening to a conversation in a language he doesn’t speak. The forest seems to provide for him a secret and delightful significance that Liem isn’t privy to, much as he enjoys the wildness of the forest’s green and beating heart.

When they come to the top of the hill, he initially takes a moment to appreciate the nostalgic sight of the oak stretching its mossy bought to fill the space. But he looks then at Cardan, searching his expression as he regards the scene before them. It’s not immediately obvious to him whether his husband is pleased to have been brought here.]

Is that so?

[Liem knows little of magical places, or the things that might herald the presence of faeries somewhere wild. Everything that lives in this forest is here to be hunted, in some way or another—except for the wolves, which are here to keep interlopers from freely roaming where they aren’t welcome. It seems a poor place for any faerie to dwell, even the most stubborn and clever of them.]

I have more often been here in the winter, when the nights are longer, but it’s nice like this. I’ve rarely seen it so green.

[ It's not hard for him to draw the similarities: the Palace of Elfhame is built inside a hill topped by a gigantic tree, the roots of which burrow unnaturally far beneath the earth.

But he supposes he cannot keep having conflicted feelings every time he encounters a hilltop. Cardan sighs, shaking the feeling as loose as he can. There will be no fair folk here: no goat-headed phooka, no insect-like sprites, no trolls with snowflakes in their hair. He is, as he has been, the lone representative of their kind.

He'll look up towards the stars peeking through the canopy. They are different here; different constellations, perhaps different meanings altogether. Few of his textbooks on astrology seem like they would apply, here. ]

You didn't suppose you'd need this place to hide from me?

[ The half-smile indicates he's teasing, though he certainly knows he's been insufferable, too. In a sexier, cleverer, and far more refined way than Gusairne -- but insufferable all the same.

Then again, he supposes there is no real hiding from each other. Not as long as they wear their wedding bands, and he cannot imagine Liem taking off his, even in exasperation. ]

[Now that they've reached their destination, Liem is content to linger for a while. He's in no hurry to abandon the woods for a return to the house, particularly when Cardan has seemed more approachable tonight than on perhaps any other night he's seen him.

Which is understandable, he thinks. It's hard to be completely at ease in another vampire's home, not that Liem would even advise trying.

He lifts an eyebrow as he observes his husband's half-smile, pretending nonchalance, as if he didn't just spend his entire day avoiding him.]

Would you really hunt me down all the way out here? Surely at some point it stops being worth the effort.

[He moves forward across the hilltop, pulling Cardan along with him, deeper beneath the tangled spread of branches. The breeze is a little fresher here, out from the cover of the trees around the perimeter. It tugs briefly at their hair as they emerge.

A soft, short suggestion of laughter escapes him.]

But I'd rather not need to hide from my own husband.

[ There is something strangely delicate to the clasp of their hands, to Liem's soft laugh. It feels like something that cannot be forced nor preserved, like a soap bubble that will pop the minute the wind blows too hard.

Cardan doesn't know why he's suddenly anxious about it. He's certainly determined not to let it show, though he can do nothing to slow his treacherous heartbeat. His tone remains light. ]

If you're gone, I may have real work pressed upon me, which is hardly in my nature.

[ But that's not a real reason. For one, no one in their right mind would expect Cardan to be dependable. ]

And I don't trust any of the others not to eat me.

[ That is closer to honesty, couched in irony as it is. ]

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