[Navigating Liem’s home is simple. For one thing, it is fairly small: a few narrow storeys stacked atop each other in order to squeeze the townhome between its equally narrow neighbours. For another, the home itself is quite barren, with only a few necessities populating otherwise empty rooms. A single glance will suffice for Silver to take in the empty expanse of the main floor, and to confirm the uninhabited status of the small rooms he passes once he’s climbed the stairs to the floor above.
It is just as well that the house is largely empty, because the upper storey is just as dark as the ones below. Liem’s scent leads down a nearly pitch-black hallway to a door at the very end, yawning open to reveal a glimpse of the spartan-looking bedroom beyond.
There, curled on his side in the rumpled bed, clutching a pillow to his chest as though he was trying to squeeze the life from it, lies Liem’s unmoving form. He is dressed for sleep, and might seem to be sleeping but for the utter stillness of his body and the rictus of anguish gripping his expression. His skin and hair alike are bleached pale, while the extremities of his hands and the tips of his pointed ears are darkened as though from frostbite.
His heart does not beat, and he draws no breath. He is very, very cold.]
[ it is a good thing that silver's second soul provides him with a better sight than normal; his pupils slit as he looks into the rooms, climbs the stairs with one hand supporting him against the wall, takes in the oppressive darkness of the hallway on the upper floor.
it is all ghost-quiet. his steps echo far too loud, and yet there is no response.
he knows what he will find even before he enters liem's bedroom. the knowledge sits inside his spine, cold and foreboding, in the rapid thrum of his heart. it culminates in seeing him: liem, unmoving, pain etched onto his features.
silver is aware that he's making a noise of some kind, but doesn't have enough presence of mind to know what it is — only that it speaks of a loss, sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one.
slowly, he sits down next to liem's body, lifts his hand to brush a few locks of hair off his forehead. ]
You should have told someone, [ he whispers, voice raw and scratchy. ] You shouldn't have been alone.
[ surely that would have been preferable to this — dying alone and in pain. silver looks at him, his features, his closed lids. ]
... I never even saw your eyes. [ what a silly thing to think about, and yet there is a painful pang in his chest nonetheless. ]
[Stillness stretches for some time, then. Liem’s body does not look peaceful in repose, but it is unmoving, imbued with a rigidity that resists repositioning should Silver have any thoughts of straightening him from his fetal curl. Given the chill that had been gripping Liem even prior to his death, it is hard to say how recent his end was, but the entire house has the feel of a tomb, with Liem its sole occupant.
But the transformation that has tortured him over the last several weeks is nearly complete now—and eventually, the clenched eyes snap open to land directly on the man next to him, ghost-pale irises shocking against their dark background. The dour air in the room only becomes heavier as Liem reaches out to seize his arm, pushing himself upright as his lips peel back from long, sharp teeth.]
[ to say he isn't expecting it, for liem's eyes to fly open between one tick of the clock and the next, would be downplaying it terribly. the hand clenched around his arm comes as just as much of a shock as the sight of the dark eyes looking at him, and silver yelps — ]
Jesus Fucking Christ —
[ but the second the surprise rolls straight into the pit of relief, the shock lighting up his eyes changes into something almost helplessly glad. and really, maybe the sight of liem, his sharp teeth, his night-black eyes, maybe it should be alarming — but somehow the sight of him, still in his pyjamas, just gives the overall effect of a hissing kitten.
and so, with his free hand, he reaches out, touching his fingertips to liem's cold cheek before clasping his shoulder. ]
Liem. You were... [ a huff of air, a chuckle that's as glad as it is bewildered. ]
I tried reaching you. You didn't respond. Is it so wrong to be worried about a friend? For good reason, I would add.
[When Liem awoke, he had been expecting to be alone. He had shut himself in his house days ago, ailing and weak, to die in solitude—and to awaken in solitude as well, unless the one person to know his home’s location should think to seek him out. Rousing to the heat and scent of another person had not been on his list of possibilities, particularly as he knows the doors had been locked when he was last awake.]
I was dead. [He finishes Silver’s sentence impatiently, startled and then frustrated by the way Silver reaches out to him.] I am dead.
[Surely the man noticed that he was sitting next to a corpse; he seemed startled enough to be sure. And yet, in his relief at seeing Liem awake again, he seems to have forgotten that detail. Liem closes his eyes, trying to take stock of his own situation: the strange stillness in his chest, the blessed freedom from pain in his body. That lack is very new to him—but it makes the dry, aching emptiness of hunger inside him all the worse.]
Yes, that much was evident. [ there's a hint of the painful wave of sorrow from before in the tightness around his eyes, the way he smiles and shapes the words in wryness that doesn't seem entirely genuine. ]
And yet, here you sit, speaking, thinking, feeling. It may not be the same... you may not be the same, but I would rather this than have to think of your funeral.
[ would he have arranged one, if liem had not woken? there is a part of him that believes he would have walked out and not looked back; a larger part screams at that thought, knows in his bones he would have done something. he wouldn't — couldn't — have just left liem here.
which brings them to, ]
Perhaps not. I am sorry about your door. But I'm not sorry about being here. [ a tilt of his head. there is something there — something more than liem's own shock over waking up again, over dying at all, over not waking up alone. ]
This isn't about a breach of privacy, is it. [ he speaks slowly, eyes watching liem carefully. ] You don't want me here for a different reason. What are you afraid of?
[Ah, his door. Though Silver doesn’t elaborate, this nevertheless suffices to explain how he came to be here in Liem’s bedroom, inside the house Liem is very sure he locked the last time he retreated within it.
Well, a broken door is the least of his problems right now. Of more immediate concern is the fact that he is not alone in his house, that Silver is sitting only a breath away from him, telling him bittersweet things like that he’s glad to have Liem still here, changed, rather than dead for good. Warm though the sentiment may feel to receive, it is not one Liem can entirely agree with, when he is so afraid of what that change will mean for the rest of his existence.]
I’m afraid of myself, [he says quietly, through a throat that seems on fire with thirst.] And you should be, too. I don’t know why you’re not.
[Pale, reflective eyes light again on Silver, skim over the parts of him peeking out from the edges of his clothing. Even if Silver is not as warm as he might once have been, he smells so alive.]
I am so empty, John Silver. I need something to quiet the hunger, and I’m afraid it might be you.
[ there is a burning in liem's words, a gravelly edge to his quiet tone, something more than unused vocal chords — and as his gaze rakes over silver, he can't help the shiver that travels down his spine, the way he feels like a prey caught in a trap, the way his well-honed instincts are telling him this is where he should turn and run.
he swallows, and stays. ]
Why am I not afraid? Because I've seen you heal me at the cost of your own health. Because I remember when we met, and you were willing to listen to a stranger and offer your help. I don't think you want to hurt me.
[ want being the key word there, of course. he tilts his head a little. funnily enough, though liem's words could be construed, hm, a very obvious way, he thinks it may be something else, too — he remembers sharp teeth around his wrist, once, rivulets of warm blood running down his arm.
god. he knows that is a possibility, and yet here he sits. he must have gone insane at some point — and yet, he looks at liem's striking eyes and thinks that maybe, maybe whatever hunger it is that he needs to sate... maybe this is a fair exchange.
after all, he has been hurt much more for much less.
so, quietly, he says, ]
If you're empty, Liem... then let me fill that emptiness for you. After all, I am in your debt. Let me balance the scales.
[Liem had feared that Silver would say something like this. Feared it, and expected it to some extent, recalling the stubborn way the man had stuck by him on the outskirts of Kelesis, before the city’s veil of compulsion had lifted. Silver had been suffering his own pain back then, too. If Liem has a problem with stubbornness to the point of putting himself at risk, he suspects Silver is afflicted with this curse as well.
But Liem doesn’t think Silver really understands the cost that helping Liem might demand. Even Liem doesn’t actually know, and that is part of what scares him so badly.]
Do not offer to repay me with such a thing.
[Finally releasing Silver’s arm, he rolls away from him so he can sit up on the other side of the bed, facing into the darkness of the room, away from the other man. It makes little difference; he can still both hear and smell him just as well, even with his back to him.]
How pleased do you think I would be to leave you cold and senseless just for a temporary reprieve from my thirst? You have either far too much trust in my restraint, or too little regard for your own well being.
[ or perhaps both, silver thinks quietly to himself. even this, the vehement way liem rejects the offer, puts distance between them (like it would help), seems to reinforce the belief that liem is simply too good a person to ever drain him dry. and what is he, in turn? ]
And what else am I supposed to offer?
[ his tone is rough like the ocean shore, and his head turns as if pulled by an invisible force, gaze landing on liem's back. ]
I should have noticed you were dying. I should have done something.
[ paying the price of some blood lost, even at the risk of bleeding out entirely — it would alleviate the guilt gnawing at his insides, a sensation he is entirely unused to. guilt used to have no meaning to him. but in recent months, as he has found he is capable of caring about people, so has he found that there is very, very little he isn't willing to endure for those few people that matter to him. and for better or worse, liem counts among that limited number.
but he does so because of his quiet kindness, the loneliness that clings to him stronger than the stench of death, and it is clear that silver's insistence on offering him his blood is an offer made to satisfy his own sense of guilt and nothing more. liem is far too good to demand this from him.
so, with a sigh, ] ... I'm sorry. For catching you unawares like this... but most of all for not realising you were suffering, before.
[Still caught flat-footed by waking up to Silver’s presence and stubborn desire to help him, Liem struggles to collect himself, to master the thirst gripping his body and present a dignified face to this man who has seen him stripped of hs facades. All Silver wants is to help him, but the struggles Liem is currently facing are ones he can’t abide anyone else glimpsing, let alone sacrificing to address.]
I didn’t want anyone to know.
[The few times he’d volunteered information about his ailment, he had simply said that he was ill—that the natural soul transformation was hard on him, and that his illness would abate once the changes ceased. It wasn’t untrue; the pain and fatigue and feverish chills that had wracked him for weeks seem to have abated, now that his heart is no longer beating.
But he does not feel any more ready than before to be around the people he cares for.]
You should go, before I change my mind about accepting your offer.
[Even now, he’s sorely tempted. But he knows with the certainty of past experience that sating his thirst would only wrack him with guilt instead.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FatherTalbott
PROFILE
no subject
It is just as well that the house is largely empty, because the upper storey is just as dark as the ones below. Liem’s scent leads down a nearly pitch-black hallway to a door at the very end, yawning open to reveal a glimpse of the spartan-looking bedroom beyond.
There, curled on his side in the rumpled bed, clutching a pillow to his chest as though he was trying to squeeze the life from it, lies Liem’s unmoving form. He is dressed for sleep, and might seem to be sleeping but for the utter stillness of his body and the rictus of anguish gripping his expression. His skin and hair alike are bleached pale, while the extremities of his hands and the tips of his pointed ears are darkened as though from frostbite.
His heart does not beat, and he draws no breath. He is very, very cold.]
no subject
it is all ghost-quiet. his steps echo far too loud, and yet there is no response.
he knows what he will find even before he enters liem's bedroom. the knowledge sits inside his spine, cold and foreboding, in the rapid thrum of his heart. it culminates in seeing him: liem, unmoving, pain etched onto his features.
silver is aware that he's making a noise of some kind, but doesn't have enough presence of mind to know what it is — only that it speaks of a loss, sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one.
slowly, he sits down next to liem's body, lifts his hand to brush a few locks of hair off his forehead. ]
You should have told someone, [ he whispers, voice raw and scratchy. ] You shouldn't have been alone.
[ surely that would have been preferable to this — dying alone and in pain. silver looks at him, his features, his closed lids. ]
... I never even saw your eyes. [ what a silly thing to think about, and yet there is a painful pang in his chest nonetheless. ]
no subject
But the transformation that has tortured him over the last several weeks is nearly complete now—and eventually, the clenched eyes snap open to land directly on the man next to him, ghost-pale irises shocking against their dark background. The dour air in the room only becomes heavier as Liem reaches out to seize his arm, pushing himself upright as his lips peel back from long, sharp teeth.]
What are you doing here?
no subject
Jesus Fucking Christ —
[ but the second the surprise rolls straight into the pit of relief, the shock lighting up his eyes changes into something almost helplessly glad. and really, maybe the sight of liem, his sharp teeth, his night-black eyes, maybe it should be alarming — but somehow the sight of him, still in his pyjamas, just gives the overall effect of a hissing kitten.
and so, with his free hand, he reaches out, touching his fingertips to liem's cold cheek before clasping his shoulder. ]
Liem. You were... [ a huff of air, a chuckle that's as glad as it is bewildered. ]
I tried reaching you. You didn't respond. Is it so wrong to be worried about a friend? For good reason, I would add.
no subject
I was dead. [He finishes Silver’s sentence impatiently, startled and then frustrated by the way Silver reaches out to him.] I am dead.
[Surely the man noticed that he was sitting next to a corpse; he seemed startled enough to be sure. And yet, in his relief at seeing Liem awake again, he seems to have forgotten that detail. Liem closes his eyes, trying to take stock of his own situation: the strange stillness in his chest, the blessed freedom from pain in his body. That lack is very new to him—but it makes the dry, aching emptiness of hunger inside him all the worse.]
You should not have come.
no subject
And yet, here you sit, speaking, thinking, feeling. It may not be the same... you may not be the same, but I would rather this than have to think of your funeral.
[ would he have arranged one, if liem had not woken? there is a part of him that believes he would have walked out and not looked back; a larger part screams at that thought, knows in his bones he would have done something. he wouldn't — couldn't — have just left liem here.
which brings them to, ]
Perhaps not. I am sorry about your door. But I'm not sorry about being here. [ a tilt of his head. there is something there — something more than liem's own shock over waking up again, over dying at all, over not waking up alone. ]
This isn't about a breach of privacy, is it. [ he speaks slowly, eyes watching liem carefully. ] You don't want me here for a different reason. What are you afraid of?
no subject
Well, a broken door is the least of his problems right now. Of more immediate concern is the fact that he is not alone in his house, that Silver is sitting only a breath away from him, telling him bittersweet things like that he’s glad to have Liem still here, changed, rather than dead for good. Warm though the sentiment may feel to receive, it is not one Liem can entirely agree with, when he is so afraid of what that change will mean for the rest of his existence.]
I’m afraid of myself, [he says quietly, through a throat that seems on fire with thirst.] And you should be, too. I don’t know why you’re not.
[Pale, reflective eyes light again on Silver, skim over the parts of him peeking out from the edges of his clothing. Even if Silver is not as warm as he might once have been, he smells so alive.]
I am so empty, John Silver. I need something to quiet the hunger, and I’m afraid it might be you.
no subject
he swallows, and stays. ]
Why am I not afraid? Because I've seen you heal me at the cost of your own health. Because I remember when we met, and you were willing to listen to a stranger and offer your help. I don't think you want to hurt me.
[ want being the key word there, of course. he tilts his head a little. funnily enough, though liem's words could be construed, hm, a very obvious way, he thinks it may be something else, too — he remembers sharp teeth around his wrist, once, rivulets of warm blood running down his arm.
god. he knows that is a possibility, and yet here he sits. he must have gone insane at some point — and yet, he looks at liem's striking eyes and thinks that maybe, maybe whatever hunger it is that he needs to sate... maybe this is a fair exchange.
after all, he has been hurt much more for much less.
so, quietly, he says, ]
If you're empty, Liem... then let me fill that emptiness for you. After all, I am in your debt. Let me balance the scales.
no subject
But Liem doesn’t think Silver really understands the cost that helping Liem might demand. Even Liem doesn’t actually know, and that is part of what scares him so badly.]
Do not offer to repay me with such a thing.
[Finally releasing Silver’s arm, he rolls away from him so he can sit up on the other side of the bed, facing into the darkness of the room, away from the other man. It makes little difference; he can still both hear and smell him just as well, even with his back to him.]
How pleased do you think I would be to leave you cold and senseless just for a temporary reprieve from my thirst? You have either far too much trust in my restraint, or too little regard for your own well being.
no subject
And what else am I supposed to offer?
[ his tone is rough like the ocean shore, and his head turns as if pulled by an invisible force, gaze landing on liem's back. ]
I should have noticed you were dying. I should have done something.
[ paying the price of some blood lost, even at the risk of bleeding out entirely — it would alleviate the guilt gnawing at his insides, a sensation he is entirely unused to. guilt used to have no meaning to him. but in recent months, as he has found he is capable of caring about people, so has he found that there is very, very little he isn't willing to endure for those few people that matter to him. and for better or worse, liem counts among that limited number.
but he does so because of his quiet kindness, the loneliness that clings to him stronger than the stench of death, and it is clear that silver's insistence on offering him his blood is an offer made to satisfy his own sense of guilt and nothing more. liem is far too good to demand this from him.
so, with a sigh, ] ... I'm sorry. For catching you unawares like this... but most of all for not realising you were suffering, before.
no subject
I didn’t want anyone to know.
[The few times he’d volunteered information about his ailment, he had simply said that he was ill—that the natural soul transformation was hard on him, and that his illness would abate once the changes ceased. It wasn’t untrue; the pain and fatigue and feverish chills that had wracked him for weeks seem to have abated, now that his heart is no longer beating.
But he does not feel any more ready than before to be around the people he cares for.]
You should go, before I change my mind about accepting your offer.
[Even now, he’s sorely tempted. But he knows with the certainty of past experience that sating his thirst would only wrack him with guilt instead.]