[ Cardan can't help the way his eyes narrow at the suggestion that Liem drink from anyone else. He wants to protest -- Liem had made a promise, and not one Cardan had released him from.
Unfortunately, even Cardan understands that convincing Liem to drink from him anytime soon will be a lost cause. Even if he were willing to risk Cardan's (apparently oh-so-fragile) health, Cardan has to assume he is not going to risk the doctor's wrath. The little interlude from earlier has made it painfully clear that out of all of them, the one holding the room's reins was she.
He's going to find out how and why, but that's a riddle for a later time. Right now, he lets himself frown as he balances the teacup once more against his own lap. ]
And where is that, Liem?
[ He can't help sounding sullen about it, though, even as he turns his attention to the business of eating. If it helps convince Liem that he's recuperating, so be it: he will eat and drink and nap himself to oblivion. ]
[Liem cannot observe the souring of his husband’s expression without feeling guilt roll over in his stomach, or without wanting to ease away that sullen note that has entered his demeanour. He does not wish to interrupt Cardan’s activities, but he is nonetheless tempted into reaching over to stroke cool fingers gently through his hair.
He has not quite understood his husband’s unhappy mood, mistaking his displeasure as simply being the result of Liem’s stubbornness in refusing to drink his blood. But, he thinks, it will only cause uncertainty if he disobeys the doctor’s advice and Cardan doesn’t get better. They won’t know if it is hasty sipping causing problems, or some other unknown issue. At least this way, if Cardan’s doubt is well founded, they will discover the discrepancy more easily.]
The forest, of course.
[He says this with the enthusiasm of a man declaring his intention to eat nothing but rice crackers for the next two weeks.]
Usually I would only partake for ritual reasons, but the wolves are never averse to a hunt.
[ It's sometimes annoying just how easily Liem can tame his anger with simple touch. Cardan has to fight the urge to lean into his hand; as is, the tension bleeds from him, leaving his shoulders to slump a bit. After a moment's internal struggle, he sighs and gives in anyway, tilting his head to the touch of those gentle fingers. ]
You are planning to sup on wildlife?
[ That has... actually not occurred to him at all. Would an animal's blood even nourish Liem? Besides which, he has trouble picturing his eternally put-together, fussy spouse-- no, actually, that's not true. He can picture him too well, all glowing eyes and face smeared with crimson above the steaming wound on some freshly felled creature's throat.
It's just that sometimes it's easy to forget that he's wed an apex predator.
Cardan considers this as he chews, moodily, on his sandwich. ]
[The way his cross, impatient husband still allows himself to be placated with his idle caress does put a small smile in Liem’s heart, even if he deliberately keeps it from his face. For the moment, the papers in his lap lie forgotten in favour of petting Cardan’s glossy black curls and watching the tense angles of his posture soften by degrees.]
It would hardly be the first time.
[He’s supped on enough wild game during full moons, on ritual hunts to celebrate holy nights. On those occasions the hunt itself is more important than drinking any significant amount of blood, so his kills do tend to be smaller and less messy—but when coming back from a hunt, there's no disguising the red staining his mouth and the traces of the forest still clinging to his clothes.]
The flavour is about as flat as you might imagine, but it suffices, particularly if the kill is large.
[Deer’s or boar’s blood may not compare to Cardan’s, or even to a human’s, but after a couple litres, the craving for blood is definitely gone—though perhaps because at that point he just can’t stomach the thought of drinking any more.]
[ Sometimes Cardan catches himself ruing that he is not a better man -- the kind of person who would offer Liem an exemption from his promise, so that he wouldn't have to resort to hunting wild game for his sustenance. But he isn't, and so he doesn't. After all -- what if being allowed to drink from mortals lessens Liem's temptation for Cardan's vein? What if he becomes content to wait whole weeks, as per the doctor's horrid suggestion? No; Cardan would keep his thirst fresh, even if it makes his husband's days a little more tiresome and unpleasant.
So he doesn't offer Liem anything -- except for the arm that sneaks out to wrap around his waist and pull him insistently closer to Cardan's side. If he's going to sit close to Cardan, he may as well be touching more than just his hair. Besides, Liem's scent remains ever comforting.
And he is strangely eager to leave the fight behind, to reassure himself of Liem's affection now that he seems to have regained it. ]
[When Cardan’s free arm snakes around Liem to pull him closer, Liem uses this opportunity to lean in and brush a kiss against his jaw. He fits himself comfortably against Cardan’s side, bringing his papers with him as though cuddled up to his husband on the office couch is the natural place for him to read over reports—which it largely is now, when he can get away with it. After all the unpleasantness of the last hour, relief buzzes persistently beneath his skin at the chance to steal a little familiar comfort he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.
It makes focusing even on reading difficult, but he makes a decent effort of it, letting his husband eat while Liem absentmindedly strokes his hair and sticks to him like a lonely snowflake. It is only once Cardan finishes with his lunch that Liem peels himself free, draping a heavy blanket over his spouse and stealing a brief kiss before resigning himself to tackling the rest of the work on his desk.]
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no subject
Unfortunately, even Cardan understands that convincing Liem to drink from him anytime soon will be a lost cause. Even if he were willing to risk Cardan's (apparently oh-so-fragile) health, Cardan has to assume he is not going to risk the doctor's wrath. The little interlude from earlier has made it painfully clear that out of all of them, the one holding the room's reins was she.
He's going to find out how and why, but that's a riddle for a later time. Right now, he lets himself frown as he balances the teacup once more against his own lap. ]
And where is that, Liem?
[ He can't help sounding sullen about it, though, even as he turns his attention to the business of eating. If it helps convince Liem that he's recuperating, so be it: he will eat and drink and nap himself to oblivion. ]
no subject
He has not quite understood his husband’s unhappy mood, mistaking his displeasure as simply being the result of Liem’s stubbornness in refusing to drink his blood. But, he thinks, it will only cause uncertainty if he disobeys the doctor’s advice and Cardan doesn’t get better. They won’t know if it is hasty sipping causing problems, or some other unknown issue. At least this way, if Cardan’s doubt is well founded, they will discover the discrepancy more easily.]
The forest, of course.
[He says this with the enthusiasm of a man declaring his intention to eat nothing but rice crackers for the next two weeks.]
Usually I would only partake for ritual reasons, but the wolves are never averse to a hunt.
no subject
You are planning to sup on wildlife?
[ That has... actually not occurred to him at all. Would an animal's blood even nourish Liem? Besides which, he has trouble picturing his eternally put-together, fussy spouse-- no, actually, that's not true. He can picture him too well, all glowing eyes and face smeared with crimson above the steaming wound on some freshly felled creature's throat.
It's just that sometimes it's easy to forget that he's wed an apex predator.
Cardan considers this as he chews, moodily, on his sandwich. ]
no subject
It would hardly be the first time.
[He’s supped on enough wild game during full moons, on ritual hunts to celebrate holy nights. On those occasions the hunt itself is more important than drinking any significant amount of blood, so his kills do tend to be smaller and less messy—but when coming back from a hunt, there's no disguising the red staining his mouth and the traces of the forest still clinging to his clothes.]
The flavour is about as flat as you might imagine, but it suffices, particularly if the kill is large.
[Deer’s or boar’s blood may not compare to Cardan’s, or even to a human’s, but after a couple litres, the craving for blood is definitely gone—though perhaps because at that point he just can’t stomach the thought of drinking any more.]
no subject
So he doesn't offer Liem anything -- except for the arm that sneaks out to wrap around his waist and pull him insistently closer to Cardan's side. If he's going to sit close to Cardan, he may as well be touching more than just his hair. Besides, Liem's scent remains ever comforting.
And he is strangely eager to leave the fight behind, to reassure himself of Liem's affection now that he seems to have regained it. ]
no subject
It makes focusing even on reading difficult, but he makes a decent effort of it, letting his husband eat while Liem absentmindedly strokes his hair and sticks to him like a lonely snowflake. It is only once Cardan finishes with his lunch that Liem peels himself free, draping a heavy blanket over his spouse and stealing a brief kiss before resigning himself to tackling the rest of the work on his desk.]