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I love me some gen threads, especially funny or drama-filled ones, but I am also shamelessly here for shipping AUs. The general Liem-shipping vibe is "I want more than this, but I shouldn't & they can't possibly want me back," so if you're into that, I've got what you need. His default setting is very D&D-like high fantasy, but I'm comfortable playing him in modern fantasy settings as well. Pretty much any prompt can also accommodate Liem being a full vampire instead of a dhampir, if that's your thing.

Prompts for inspiration:
• Arranged Marriage: Liem's shady vampire family has arranged his marriage to you, but he seems a rather reluctant fiance.
• Bodyguard Shipping: It's Liem's duty to keep you safe and out of trouble, possibly despite your best efforts.
• Companion to Royalty: Reclusive vampire king Liem and YOU! Are you a gift from a local power? Sacrifice from the townsfolk? Or did you just stumble up the road to his castle during a storm?
• Enemies to Lovers: Maybe Liem is a foreign agent trying to sabotage your country or organization. Or maybe you're rebelling against the current regime and he's trying to take you in.
• Fake Dating/Fake Married: A relationship is your cover story while you're travelling for some secret reason. Gotta keep up appearances.
• Hunter & Hunted: Are you a hunter trying to track Liem down? Or a snack that proved more than he bargained for?
• Hurt (Comfort Optional): Whether he's hurt, sick, drugged, or just upset, two things remain constant: Liem needs help, and he doesn't want to accept it. But maybe you don't want to fix him anyway; maybe you want to make him worse.
• Living a Lie: Whether you're undercover on a mission, or you lied to cover something up and now you have to commit, you're stuck playing a role until you accomplish some secret objective — or until you can shake off your nosy company.
• Loss of Control: For whatever reason, one of you is struggling not to go berserk — or perhaps has already failed. If it's Liem, can you help him come back to himself, or are you the one pushing him over the edge?
• Out of the Frying Pan: The classic "tried to help someone in trouble, ended up with a new and possibly worse problem" situation. But at least you're in it together!
• Priest/Celibacy: Default here is that Liem is the priest, but it could go the other way. Smutty, or just laden with UST? You decide.
• Texting: Stupid TFLN-style text threads, my beloved...
• Random Scenario: For if none of the above tickle your fancy.

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[The way Cardan sways pliantly back against him coaxes a hum, soft and pleased, from low in his throat. Liem kisses him without a hint of shame for his uncooperativeness, wrapping around his husband again so he might trap him in bed more effectively. And why not? It isn’t as though Cardan ever has any shame about doing just the same.

Besides, he doesn’t intend to keep them long. He just wants another moment or two, or three, to have Cardan all to himself, within easy reach of his touch and his kiss.]

We’d need to move quickly indeed to make it anywhere during twilight.

[Considering that even the reddest dying rays of the setting sun are liable to roast Liem like a crust of bread dropped into the fire, they cannot even leave the palace until twilight begins — or rather, Liem will not go anywhere, even in a carriage, while the sun is still in the sky. The revel would need to be quite near for them to enjoy any of it before nightfall.

For a moment, regret laps softly at the edges of his bliss, that he cannot grant Cardan pleasures like this — cannot watch the sunset with him, or splash through the surf, or even tramp through the woods without balking at every trickle of water that crosses their path. So much of his existence is bound by rules that his husband should not need to adhere to, and there are so many boundaries he cannot cross, even by invitation.

One more reason for him to enjoy Cardan while he’s tucked pleasingly against him, close enough for Liem to slide his fingers into his hair and trail sleep-warmed kisses along the line of his jaw. Even as he murmurs, musingly,] But I suppose I can indulge you.

[ It is difficult to resist the desire to twist his body until he is facing Liem fully, to press him into the soft down pillows and silk sheets, to lean into him with all of his weight and kiss him until he's breathless... or rather, until Cardan is, given that his lover needs no air. It's difficult, so Cardan does not bother resisting at all. Liem is indulging him; he has been indulging him this entire trip. Regardless of what kind of schedule they might be on, Cardan is loath to waste the pleasure of his warm, easy affection, when soon he will once more be doomed to wake in a bed long abandoned by his spouse.

That, and Liem is being saucy, which is both highly attractive and deserving of retaliation.

He is indeed breathless when he pulls back, though that doesn't impede his returning grin. His expression conveys the cheerful confidence of a man who, instead of being thwarted in his plans, is getting exactly what he'd wanted. ]

Have you finally decided to rebel, Liem?

[ His husband does look decidedly more impish than usual, with his hair unruly against the pillow and his mannerisms still languid with sleep. I want to be your favourite, comes unbidden to Cardan's mind -- and he has to admit, with a strange flutter of anxiety, that he is hard-pressed to think of anyone he likes as much as Liem.

Not that it matters, since Liem probably doesn't even remember he'd said it. ]

[Liem sighs into his husband's tender assault, sliding his arms tight about him, wandering fingers caressing soft hair and warm skin. He is supremely contented by the outcome of his non-compliance, and wonders if this is how Cardan feels whenever he successfully distracts Liem from some bit of tedious work. By Cardan's breathless grin, he too is pleased to be distracted.]

No, no; I said I'd indulge you, and I will.

[Tipping his face up, he presses a small kiss to the very tip of Cardan's nose. He can feel the evening sun still hovering above the horizon, frowning down at the world as it does every day; they have some time yet before it begins to sink into the trees. If Cardan wishes to be ready to leave by sunset, they can be ready to leave by sunset.

Much as Liem hates to relinquish his exquisitely comfortable spot, trapped by his lover beneath the warm cage of his body, he doesn't wish to foil Cardan's plans — not when they seem to have him in such high spirits. If he wishes to be early for a party for once, let them be early.

Grudgingly, he releases his covetous embrace and slides his hands down his husband's back — until he has found the lean curve of his ass, instead.]

What is so special about this revel, anyway?

[ For his part, Cardan makes no particular move to take advantage of Liem's nominal acquiescence. He's too busy fielding the warm delight that spreads through him in the face of Liem's mischief and his gentle indulgence. It threatens to show in the smile that curves his lips -- more pleased than sharp, and certainly more honest than he'd intended it to be. He considers tucking it against the crook of Liem's neck, as he usually does when things like this happen, but-- what is the point? Is he not allowed a moment of contentment even on evenings like this?

He has not made a habit of denying himself pleasures, and he would not start tonight.

So he props himself up on one elbow instead, looking down at his husband's face. His fingertips find the line of Liem's sharp cheekbone, follow it down to his mouth -- before he runs indulgent knuckles over his jaw, ever fascinated with the stubble that springs up there in the evenings. ]

It will reveal our true faces, for one.

[ The fair folk, he means -- wild folk and shy folk, solitary folk and the glittering gentry alike, dancing, laughing, and scheming under the night sky. No matter how tepid Eldred's court may be, they are all untamed creatures beneath the veneer of decorum. A part of him is regretful that Liem will not get to see the spectacle.

But-- ]

And there are those whose company I especially look forward to tonight.

[ He's going to forestall any further questions by finally pushing himself up -- and, regrettably, out of the grasp of Liem's hands. His tail coils behind him in lazy, pleased loops as he slips out of their bed, disappearing behind the bathtub screen. ]

[Liem is going to miss evenings like this one terribly when they have returned to Ironside. Almost never does he get to awake in his own bed and remain there to indulge his husband's desire for touch. And never, when he has been lying against his own pillows, has he seen Cardan regard him with such open fondness. He cannot imagine extracting himself from his husband's grasp and leaving to begin his night without him if that were the case.]

Hm.

[Liem does not know quite what to do with the answer that Cardan gives him before rising from the bed. The look he wears is considering as he finally pushes himself into a sitting position.

Perhaps he means his friends? He and Cardan abandoned Balekin's revel almost immediately, and the palace revels, though elegant, have not been especially wild. Maybe his faerie companions get into more mischief when the surrounds are a little more lively. Or, perhaps Cardan has other acquaintances to whom Liem has not yet been introduced.

Cardan continues to be a little vague on the details, which Liem, as usual, suspects is intentional. But if his husband wishes to keep these things from him, he is content to be kept in the dark, and to let Cardan spring his little surprises as he pleases.

When he slips out of bed, his thoughts go quickly to the matter of getting ready. Though he follows his husband in search of the bath, he is already thinking about his wardrobe, considering what will serve him best in this circumstance.]

It's been a while since I attended any event held under the open sky. Even in summer, the weather at home is rarely so fine.

[And anyway, his father's associates tended to prefer luxury to the wildness of bonfires and forest breezes, even when it was not overcast.]

[ Cardan grins from his spot on the lip of the tub and imagines Liem cloaked in moonlight, the sea wind blowing his hair wild. It has been too long since they had been in the woods together -- travel hardly counts. ]

It has only been a while because you are loath to be parted from your papers, husband.

[ Which means that Cardan should endeavour more often to divorce Liem from them. But that is a problem for when they have returned to Ironside; tonight, he will focus on curling possessive fingers over Liem's bare hip to pull him closer. The bath is only just filling; they have a little time to entertain each other, as usual.

And if he takes another opportunity to make sure his husband is thoroughly kissed, is that not his duty as Liem's spouse? Still, true to his stated intent, he doesn't tarry; it is not even an hour later that he is in dark trousers and a loose shirt. Its cuffs are yet undone, for he is busy fussing with Liem's. He knows there is no real need -- Liem can certainly see his own wrists. Still, there is a strange pleasure to dressing his husband, to seeing him transform from Cardan's pliant, affectionate lover to sharply formal vampire prince.

He is finishing up with the fastenings at Liem's throat when he asks, deceptively casual, ]

I have always wondered: do you know at all what you look like?

[Liem cannot disagree with Cardan’s assertion; certainly most vampires he knows in his generation spend much less of their time with anything that might be called work, and far more of it with entertainments. Sometimes, he wonders if his father’s decision to let him manage domestic matters was really a concession at all, or whether he’d just let Liem think that it was his own idea, to keep him busy and close to home.

It matters little. He has no papers to occupy him here, to his husband’s obvious pleasure, and he is well content to indulge him in their absence — even if, for once, Cardan seems to be the one in a hurry.

But there is still time for small pleasures between them: stolen moments while the tub fills, an indulgent touch or kiss in the course of bathing and readying for the night. He had never previously thought that his spouse, if he had one, would be involved in his bathing and dressing; he had not imagined anything so intimate, so domestic between him and a partner who would inevitably have been chosen for him by his father.

How strange that such small, tender moments have begun to feel deceptively like the most natural thing in the world.]

I have seen my likeness in paintings, of course.

[He says this without any particular inflection. There are one or two family portraits hung in parlours in the house, and a coming-of-age portrait that had been done of him some years back. That one is the only one that he thinks might bear any real resemblance to him; stern and lean-faced, with features that look very much, to his eyes, like his father’s. The painter chose not to include any hint of silver in his hair, though he recalls that the likeness was made after it would have appeared. Still, it is the only painting in the house in which he actually looks grown.

There is one thing all paintings of him have in common, though, regardless of his youth in the others. He is sober and unsmiling in all of them.]

I am told the one in the western parlour looks quite like me.

[ Well, yes— there are the paintings, certainly. Cardan had spent some time studying them in his wandering down the long hallways, especially in those first few weeks, when he would sometimes stay up long past midday to explore. The serious child in the paintings had made his new husband feel like even more of a stranger, then; certainly there are no pictures of Cardan that ever looked like that.

He had never liked the family portraits specifically; especially in sequence, they had always felt heavy, rife with painful things gone unspoken. He’d asked someone about Liem’s sister, once, and had gotten startlingly little information in return. It made him mislike looking at the solemn slant of Liem’s mouth, especially back then, when he did not want to sympathize with the husband he was antagonizing.

It’s startling to realize that it is the only one of his own expressions Liem knows. Startling, and a little discomfiting. ]

Insofar as a page resembles a book.

[ He runs fingers up the side of Liem’s face, following the line of a freshly trimmed sideburn. His look is assessing. ]

If I had skill with drawing, I might endeavour to complete the volume.

[ But he doesn’t. And besides, part of him is greedy for Liem’s expressions; why would he leave them on paper for the rest of the world to discover? ]

[Liem has not spent a great deal of time looking at his own likenesses, or devoting much thought to exactly what he looks like. He’s grown used enough to the paintings on the walls that he barely ever notices them anymore. And while he takes great pleasure in dressing himself in nice things, keeping his hair styled and his ears glittering with jewellery, he cannot really translate the solemn, unmoving face he has seen in paintings to the one he wears every night. Whenever his eyes pause on that likeness, seeing it instead of sliding past, the person looking gravely back at him seems like a stranger.

In Ironside, when he and Cardan had visited that tavern, Cardan had used magic to prevent the people within from looking at Liem’s eyes. He feels a little like that; when he envisions himself, his mind’s eye slides away from the details of his face.

He almost doesn’t feel like he has one, though of course he knows that he does. Plenty of people before Cardan have confirmed that the person in those paintings is indeed him. But those likenesses might as well be paper masks that stapled over the place where an actual face would go. They aren’t real, and sometimes he feels like neither is he.

Still, he smiles a little as he looks up at his husband.]

I would read it. Though I suspect I may be the only one who would care to.

[ Cardan snorts -- taking a moment to fan his fingertips over the silver at Liem's temple, light enough to avoid disturbing his freshly styled hair... too much. He is a little fond, always, of unbalancing Liem's carefully curated perfection just a tiny bit; it makes him feel more in reach, more Cardan's. And as ever, the difficult part of attending to Liem is not getting lost in touching him.

He eyes the face under discussion now: Liem's sharp, elegant angles, the steep cliffs of his cheekbones and his striking eyes, pale against the black pool of his sclera. No, he thinks that if he made an almanac of the subtle expressions ruling that serious, composed face, it would see no shortage of demand. ]

I do not know if you're insulting yourself or me, but regardless, I am inclined to take offence.

[ The slight curl at the corner of his mouth suggests he's joking, but then again, it is not as if he can lie -- only exaggerate.

His hands drop down to Liem's shoulders again, straightening his collar one last time. Cardan will reach for his jacket next, proferring it for his husband to slide into, dutiful as the world's most louche butler. ]

[Liem thinks Cardan may be just a little biased in his assessment of Liem's features. As someone who has been wearing his face for his entire life, Liem is in a position to say with confidence that no one but Cardan has ever been so blatantly and unashamedly obsessed with it. His infatuation notwithstanding, Liem can't imagine someone being interested in an entire bevy of different expression portraits featuring exclusively him.

Even Cardan's interest strikes him as a little odd, but fortunately for him and his lack of drawing expertise, he does not need portraits of Liem to see his face all the time, in all its nebulous variety of iterations. For the sake of his hair, Liem resists the urge to lean his head into the caress of Cardan's fingertips, but his eyes warm beneath his husband's strangely intent gaze.]

Then I won't belabour the point.

[The point that he is still correct about — but it doesn't matter. He slides his arms into the coat that Cardan holds out for him, taking a few moments to fuss with the sleeves as he always must, even if someone else has fussed with them already.]

In any event, I know well enough for my own purposes how I look.

[Turning again to face his spouse, he looks up at him with just a hint of playfulness, his posture ever-so-slightly inviting his wandering regard.]

And if curiosity strikes me, I can ask you.

[His dear husband, who has studied him so thoroughly and who cannot speak anything but truth.]

[ Cardan raises an eyebrow, his answering grin but a flash of teeth. ]

And do you assume I would give up my secrets freely?

[ How the details of Liem's facial features are in any way part of Cardan's secrets, he does not elaborate upon. If anything, surely Liem is long used to Cardan's preposterous demands -- and in truth, describing someone who had never seen themselves is a little daunting even for him. It is only fair that it cost Liem something.

Besides, he likes making deals with Liem, who is ever patient and honest, and often endearingly put-upon. Though even when he isn't -- even when he turns his shrewd faculties to pushing back on Cardan's nonsense, that's fun, too. He so rarely gets to be at the receiving end of his husband's ruthlessness.

He will step back and gesture towards the chair Liem had perched on when Cardan had shaved him earlier. ]

Your boots, husband. Sit, so that I may lace them for you.

[ Liem is capable of this himself, obviously, but Cardan is only being thorough. ]

[Though Liem does not necessarily expect his husband to humour him so easily, Cardan's objection tugs at the corner of his mouth. He regards his spouse consideringly, fondness colouring his faint smile.]

Oh? Yours, are they?

[What about all the others who have laid eyes on him, and seen the faces he wears that haven't been captured in those tidy paintings?

… Is what he would say, if he were not, in truth, so jealous with his own expressions. The few people who would have seen him wearing anything but the composed face he presents in public are not likely to be any more forthcoming than his mischievous husband.]

You are a jealous creature.

[And growing more jealous by the day, it sometimes seems. First it was Liem's drinking habits, and then his habits of bathing and grooming and dress, and now even his countenance is Cardan's to claim.

But still Liem takes a seat when he is bid, because he likes Cardan's hands on him, always, and because he cannot help but be charmed by his interest, no matter how covetous it might be.]

[ Once Liem takes his seat, Cardan will fold himself smoothly down on one knee before him, trailing warm fingers down from Liem’s knee. It’s to assist him in slipping into his boot, ostensibly, except it’s definitely also because Cardan likes to touch him, likes to draw his fingertips over every lean, elegant line in Liem’s body.

When he looks up, the smile that curls over his face is voluptuous. ]

I want what’s mine to be mine alone. Surely that is only natural?

[ And he has so little of Liem, really. Even when his husband is trapped in the cage of Cardan’s arms, there is always another early evening, another banquet, another stack of problems to solve. He has come to resent them — even more, somehow, since spending time in Elfhame again.

In all of his wildest dreams he would have never thought that five months into his marriage, it would be Iago he’s jealous of. But his father-in-law’s hold on Liem is ever-present, lurking like a fly in Cardan’s honey. Even now, he imagines, Liem must feel anxious to go back, to start on the work he has missed in his weeks abroad.

Cardan does not want to think about their return. So he focuses on Liem’s laces instead, and on the impending moonrise, and on the night he intends them to have. It easier, to live in the now; sometimes he wonders how Liem manages the opposite. ]

[As far as Liem is concerned, it's debatable whether or not it's natural for Cardan to be the only one to know his husband's subtle variety of different expressions. He has known some jealous lovers in his life, but Cardan has claimed the most of him by far. This may simply be another of his princely eccentricities.

Even if it is, though, Liem is happy to grant it to him. Whom else would he care to share himself with, other than his husband? Whom else would he care to grant the bits and pieces that don't quite fit in the other parts of his life, words and looks and gestures that no one else would care to receive anyway? It is better if he gives them to someone who will keep them close, hoard them like a dragon's treasures, even if only so that no one else can have them.]

If that is so, perhaps I will have to wager with you for more of your secrets.

[So that he can find out what he looks like, of course. And also so that he can indulge his trickery-loving spouse with more games.

Though at present, he is more tempted by the damp curls of his husband's freshly-washed hair, and the elegant slant of his pointed ear as he dips his head to tend to Liem's laces. It is difficult to resist the urge to brush his fingers idly along it, or the urge to stroke his thumb over one glossy temple, and so he doesn't bother, much preferring to indulge in the idle touch while he still can.]

[ It feels natural to tilt his head into the stroke of that cool, tender hand. Odd, how little doubt he feels about it. From anyone else, he would have thought it presumptuous at best, condescending at worst -- like they were treating him as a tamed pet, the way Balekin always had when he'd been younger. And yet-- and yet he cannot imagine his gentle, unselfish spouse thinking of him like that.

Worse, he doesn't know if he'd mind it even if Liem did. ]

You should wager with me more often, [ he agrees, smugly, turning to Liem's second boot. He will tilt his face up to stare at him, though, the glint in his eyes a little predatory. ] After all, is it ever not enjoyable?

[ That's not really the attitude one ought to take in a faerie wager -- but it's not like Cardan had ever taken more than Liem was willing to give. And he thinks his husband enjoys the unpredictability of Cardan's whims rather more than his average victim.

Which is good, because Cardan has found he relishes few things as much as Liem indulging him. ]

Shall we have one tonight?

[As he skims his fingers over his husband's hair, Liem notes fondly the glittering stare Cardan turns boldly upon him as he laces up his boots. As ever, Cardan excels at wearing his pride like it's the most natural thing in the world, even when he is kneeling on the floor in front of him and helping him dress. It shouldn't be as attractive as it is, but now, as ever, his husband effortlessly charms him by acting like the most intimidatingly desirable man not just in the room, but in the whole world.

Liem is more than willing to believe he's right.]

No— it has never failed to be so.

[He likes his husband's wagers. He likes his tricks and his mischief, and he likes letting Cardan lure him into his traps. He likes trying to puzzle out his games and predict his next move. And he always, always likes the forfeits they end up playing for — because even when Cardan bullies him and leads him around by the nose, he cannot truly lose when he still gets to have his husband wrapped around him at the end of the night.

The gentle smile he aims down at his spouse ill suits the wariness that such an offer should rightly inspire in this place.]

What wager, husband?

[ Cardan will finish tying the last of Liem's laces, rising smoothly to look over him with no small degree of satisfaction. He does not intend to dedicate much time to his own dress; he only needs a jacket, boots, and his usual surfeit of jewelry. It should take no time to be ready at all, which means he can spare a few minutes to lean over his husband, bracing himself against the arms of the chair. ]

We've attended our share of dull revels, have we not? Here and in your realm alike.

[ Even the most dull of Faerie parties are, of course, wild by mortal standards. But neither of them is mortal.

Cardan's grin is as bright as it is roguish. ]

Let us play a game tonight. I will leave the choice of contest to you, though you must play fair.

[ What does that even mean? Cardan thinks he would be delighted to find out what it means to Liem. ]

The winner decides the forfeit. There are no conditions, save for one: it must play out at a party.

[ That's a more complex and more open-ended game than he'd proposed before, and one drawn out over an extended period -- but escalation is the spice of life, surely, and it isn't as if Cardan isn't risking much in the process. The terms give his husband much leeway to be ruthless, if he so wanted.

The fact that he feels a little thrill at the thought probably speaks ill of his general sanity, but so be it. Tonight, Cardan has chosen to be in a good mood; tonight, in his own home, under his own stars, he decides to trust in his own luck. ]

[As Cardan again rises to loom over him, Liem wonders if it is the promise of this revel that has his husband in such a cheerful mood, or if he has some secret plot in mind. He has noticed that few things seem to please Cardan like a good scheme, especially with Liem as his ever-tolerant victim. And this evening, his husband seems in almost suspiciously high spirits.

Looking up at him, Liem considers the radiant, mischievous grin with a raised brow.]

When have I not played fair?

[If there is any rampant cheater between the two of them, surely it is Cardan. And besides, what need would he have to not play fair in a contest where he gets to decide the winning condition?

The prospect does give him pause, though. There are only so many kinds of contest they could reasonably indulge in while at a revel full of people who are meant to believe they don't care for one another. His eyes search Cardan's as he ponders this problem.

The matter of the forfeit, he gives only a passing thought. He cannot imagine that Cardan would demand anything from him that he would regret, at least not because of an idle game. For all that his husband likes to act the villain, the trials he inflicts on Liem are ever tempered with playfulness.]

Hm…

[Any contest he chooses… One that they can play over the course of the night… What shall he say?]

Then, husband, why don't we play a counting game?

[ Cardan can't help it; he laughs. Counting game is just too apt a proposition from the serious, business-minded man he has married. What could possibly be more Liem-like than choosing to do arithmetic for a fun challenge?

Then again, Liem is meant to be playing to his strengths. Especially since, as he so diligently noted, he is not the one prone to cheating and trickery. But if Liem preferred to deal with clean sportsmanship and even chances at winning, he would probably not be engaging in frivolous wagers with a faerie prince in the first place.

Funny, how this game would be so dangerous with anyone else.

Well, so be it. Cardan brushes affectionate fingertips over Liem's jaw before straightening again. ]

As you wish.

[ He will offer a gallant hand to help Liem up -- and promptly take the chance to pull him in, against his own body, his arm wrapping possessively around his husband's trim waist. ]

And what manner of counting shall we engage in, husband?

[ As he expects, Cardan does not receive his suggestion straight-faced. A small, wry smile curves Liem's lips as he tips his head gently toward the warm brush of his husband's fingers, a little tickled by his amusement, no matter how warranted.

Yes, he's chosen a counting game: something simple enough that playing will not distract them unduly from other matters, but open-ended enough to allow some room for creativity. After all, he does not wish their game to be as dull as the parties Cardan just maligned.

The slight height advantage he enjoys once he stands before his un-shod husband does little to close the difference between them, but he nonetheless takes advantage of it to lean in and press a kiss to the corner of Cardan's mouth.]

A contest to find the most populous matched set — so, it is also a seeking game.

[Still, it's straightforward, right?]

To play, we take turns finding sets of things, starting at two and iterating up by one each time. The winner will be the one who has found a matched set with the most constituent parts before we return to our rooms.

There are three rules:

A set is not considered found until one of us has shown it to the other.

No skipping ahead. If you find two of something, you must wait until I have found three before you can take your turn and find four, and so on.

Once someone has included a certain type of thing in one set, it cannot be used in any other. So for example, you might seek a constellation with a certain number of stars, but only once.

Hm.

[ He is a little concerned when Liem starts on populous matched set -- if only because he's not sure he expects what follows to be fun -- but as it turns out, his worry is unwarranted. It's not a particularly complicated game, for all the rules Liem carefully lays out, and it's not like Cardan has to win it; for all his pride, he has found he is far less competitive than the ambitious, discipline-minded man he married.

...although Liem kissing him remains distracting. Cardan tilts his face, feeling the gentle brush of his husband's cool breath as he speaks. Even dressed down in comfortable attire, Liem looks as sharp and elegant as ever. Not for the first time, it occurs to Cardan just how easily he could pass for one of the Folk prowling Elfhame's halls -- if not, perhaps, for his intolerance of strong wine. ]

Very well.

[ He pulls away, a little reluctantly. He will step around Liem to plop himself into the chair, reaching for his own boots. ]

And which of us starts?

[Though he must think quickly to slap together a coherent contest in just the brief time they have before they are to leave, Liem still finds himself pleasantly preoccupied with the solid warmth of his husband's arm around him and the pliant way he tips his mouth toward Liem's kiss. Cardan continues to smell intriguing, even in a land where smelling of the forest is far from uncommon, and the gentle thumping of his heart beckons to Liem, tempting him to wrap himself around him and simply listen to its rhythmic murmur.

These things are more enjoyable to dwell on than the neutral, unreadable reaction his spouse has for his impromptu game, which he is still not sure will be a particularly entertaining diversion. Still, Cardan had left the contest in his hands; if he wished to discover what Liem might do with this freedom, he has certainly found out.

But when Cardan sits to pull on his own boots, Liem turns to keep his eyes fixed on him, his expression warm with good humour.]

Oh?

[After a brief moment of consideration, Liem slides one hand behind his back.]

How many fingers am I holding out? If you can guess, the first turn is yours.

[ Cardan raises an eyebrow, leaning back to observe his husband. Instinctively, his eyes slide to the back of the room, behind Liem, but there are no reflective surfaces to betray the right answer. He will have to guess.

Of course, he could guess with no plan, but the point of riddles is to find meaning in something that appears to have none. He supposes the first turn conveys an advantage, as well -- but really, he just wants Liem to think that he's clever. ]

You have proposed a game for two, [ he will posit, after a moment, ] and so that shall be my answer. Two fingers, Liem.

[ Having finished with his boots, he will rise to retrieve his jacket. ]

[It’s charming of Cardan to show his work, as it were, and provide a rationale for his guess. Liem betrays nothing as his husband considers him, and as his eyes flick about the room as if he might somehow find a clue there when none appears on Liem’s face — but when his husband makes his guess, a slight smile does curve his lips.

How like him, to seek meaning in what any vampire would simply view as an arbitrary — and rather stacked — challenge. In a way, this too is instructive to a man little versed in Faerie’s ways.]

Alas.

[Drawing his hand out from behind his back, Liem waggles one lonely index finger at his husband.]

The first round will be mine then. I shall take the even numbers, and you can take the odd.

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