crescentview | 🍁🎑🦋 Bug Eater Farm: Autumn Catch-all 🦋🎑🍁

I know.

[ Trahearne was lucky that in the immediate aftermath, he had the Pact to focus on. He thought about redefining himself, he really did. There was a time in his life he thought about what life might be like once he was done with his Hunt, without the Pact, but he finds it hard to picture it now.

Unfortunately, he comes up empty in terms of advice.

Regardless, the completion of a Wyld Hunt--especially one as monumental as killing all of the Elder Dragons--deserves to be celebrated. He'd be more than happy to brainstorm with him after...this.

Trahearne feels another flutter of nerves in his gut, and the breath he takes to calm himself is louder than he intends. Either way, his pace slows to a stop, hand tugging on Syrlya's to do the same. ]

I don't think I've given you my congratulations on completing your Wyld Hunt yet.

[Syrlya stops, his attention up on Trahearne once they do.]

Thank you. [This is a compliment easier to accept, and he's not sure what about the topic should be nerve-wracking.] I couldn't have done it alone. But I think Tyria will be better off with this dragon cycle behind it.

[ It's such a professional answer. Trahearne's smile widens a touch as the thought crosses his mind.

He leans forward slightly, clasping his hands behind his back. ]

Yes. As your Marshal of—no, as former Marshal of the Pact, I give you my wholehearted congratulations on a job well done. You have gone far above and beyond everyone's expectations, and I can think of no one better to have heralded Tyria's new era of peace.

[ He relaxes, standing up straight again, and his expression softens. ]

But as your Trahearne, I...wanted to give you this.

[ When he brings his hands forward again, in it is a little velvet box. He slowly pries it open, revealing inside an elegant necklace, the amethyst glinting faintly in the moonlight.

His mouth opens, as though he wants to say something, but falters, unable to recall exactly what he wanted to say in this moment behind all these nerves.

He doesn't even realize he said "your Trahearne." ]

[It's a bit of a strange choice of words. Marshal was a role over Commander, so it doesn't work as shorthand for subordination. And Trahearne is his name.

Syrlya is mostly standing there with his brow furrowed trying to parse what the hell that even means when Trahearne presents a very fancy necklace.] Oh...! That's very pretty.

[He takes it so he can put it on, over the cowl. Hopefully the chain is long enough.] Thank you. I don't really wear jewelry but Mishka did advise I start since I don't always have to be ready for a fight here.

[ Hearing Mishka's name is like an unpleasant jolt back into reality. He hasn't thought of...anyone else since he picked him up this evening. Trahearne's mouth twists slightly in his smile. ]

It looks lovely on you. He's right. [ He places his hands on Syrlya's shoulders and admires how the necklace looks on the dress, on him. ] Perhaps now is the time to discover who it is you may be outside of your Wyld Hunt.

[ His eyes slowly lift to look at Syrlya's, suddenly overwhelmed with both adoration and the painful tug of a heartache. His expression drops a bit, melancholy seeping into his eyes. ]

You have accomplished so much, but you have also shouldered so many burdens. Perhaps too many for one person to bear. [ A hand drops to gingerly brush a fingertip on the pendant. ] Consider it my promise to you that I am here for you, that I am here so that I may help shoulder your weight should you need it, in whatever time we have together.

[ Because...who knows how this will go. ]

And...I'm sorry.

[Maybe it is. It's just... so much easier to get involved with distractions than sit there and try to think about himself.

His gaze lifts up from the pendant when that melancholy drips out. His burdens... well, it was only necessary, wasn't it? That was his duty, to shoulder the world--he's never regretted being given that. Only regretted failing to live up to it.

He reaches to put his hands on Trahearne's shoulders, squeezing them once.] I will not hear you apologize again for your own death, Trahearne. You couldn't have known the truth.

[It will always be him, having been too slow for the egg, too slow for the Pact, too slow for Trahearne.] You were a casualty, not a cause. And you did what you could. No one with any sense holds that against you.

[ A little smile tugs at the corner of Trahearne's mouth, but it doesn't win out over the swirl of emotion inside of him.

He's so nervous.

He takes another step forward, into Syrlya's personal space. ]

I know. But there are so many things for which I have wronged you, and my conscience will not ease until I've apologised.

[ His hands slowly glide up Syrlya's neck and come to rest on the curve of his jaw, cupping his face.

Please don't freeze like last time. ]

I am sorry—

[ Trahearne leans forward and places a soft, tentative kiss to Syrlya's forehead.

—for Kaspar. Our kisses were nothing more than platonic, but the guilt remains anyway. ]

—for not respecting your wishes or take into consideration your feelings when I signed you up for the auction.

I am sorry—

[ A kiss to his right eye.

—for van Zieks. I know you know it was not my choice, but I wish my first kiss had been with you. ]

—for souring our weekend getaway. I was not myself, and I wish I had not acted with you as I did.

I am sorry—

[ A kiss to his left eye.

—for Noé. It didn't mean anything. I don't want meaningless kisses ever again. ]

—for losing faith in you, and subjecting you to the worst of my nightmares. I know that's not who you are.

I am sorry—

[ A kiss to his nose.

—for Ori. I almost forgot about this—you, and it terrifies me. I never want to lose your place in my heart ever again. ]

—for not being there for you in all of the years that followed.

I am sorry—

[ A kiss to his left cheek.

—for Adelis. I had no idea you were close. I don't know if I would have done what I did knowing what I do now. ]

—for letting my doubts and my hesitation drag me down in the two seasons we've been given together.

I am sorry—

[ A kiss to his right cheek.

—for Mishka. For looking to him to fill my sorrow instead of talking to you. ]

—for almost squandering the second chance we've been given.

I am sorry—

[ Trahearne presses his lips to Syrlya's gently, so as not to startle him again. His chest flutters.

—for Kaeya. It was never serious, but I was fond of him all the same.

He pulls back, just barely. He pauses. ]

—for not telling you sooner.

[ His voice cracks under the deluge of emotion, of heartbreak and fondness and affection and joy and sorrow and hope. ]

I love you, Syrlya. In love with you. From the depths of my heart.

[But it's Syrlya freezing as Trahearne grabs his chin that even allows him the time to kiss him, again and again, between apologies. He's still to watch every movement of Trahearne, dwell on every touch, hear every word. A deep blush settles on his cheeks and he stares wide-eyed into Trahearne's as he finally pulls back.

His lips part. His voice cracks.]

... That was the only part you planned for isn't it?

[That's. Not related to the actual content of his words. He's just overwhelmed--only seconds ago he was disappointed that it didn't seem like Trahearne put any effort into this date after he spent all day anticipating it.

And now he's got the weight of his emotions on top of his own, and his legs feel weak.]

...I suppose that's obvious.

[ That, and the necklace. He'd been holding onto those things for weeks now.

The melancholy sets in, digs its claws into his soul and rips at him.

Trahearne takes a step back, hands slipping from him. He feels tears well in his eyes. That must be his answer. ]

I am s... [ He can't say that again after all that. But Syrlya is right, in a way. All he really wanted to do was spend time alone with him, thinking the company more important than the activities. Maybe he was wrong. ] I apologise. I try to do right by you, but—

[ Well. Now Syrlya knows, and he's free to do with that information as he wishes. ]

I was hoping there would be more dates in the future.

[ Ones where he'd actually make restaurant reservations. ]

Edited 2023-02-11 14:00 (UTC)

Wh--[Syrlya's hand lashes out too quickly, to grab Trahearne's arm too tightly before he can take another step back.] Don't go.

[This is always the worst kind of situation for their empathy, where each other's stress just compounds on each other. His face is no less gold-tinged but the high of the flattery is already coming down at the mutual bad reaction.]

Will you. Let me. Speak?

[ Trahearne falls silent and purses his lips, gaze sheepishly dropping to the Syrlya's hand on his arm.

He's listening. ]

[Well.

He supposes that's what he wanted.

Syrlya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.] If you want to do right by me then will you listen?

[He doesn't release his grip. That's apparently not at all a question.] I love you. More than there are possibly words for. It has never been a question in my mind. And I--I'm so grateful to be with you again, even if it is only for a while. You seemed to be settling in well and... [His gaze averts down.] Perhaps it is my fault, not being attentive enough to your state when you have died so recently in your eyes. I thought you were finding peace.

[But that--well, it's part of it, but he's not sure if it's really the center of this or if it's just... the nature of this place. The Goddess' pressure.]

We were not. Lovers. But that has never meant that I did not love you, or that I ever believed I was not important to you. [He doesn't know when things got so tangled up that they became one in the same.] That is. However we decide to act on our feelings, that has never changed. I love you, and I always will.

[He worries over his lip, then pulls his gaze up to Trahearne as he stands up straight. His expression is firm.] Whether we decide to change the relationship as we act on it is a decision we both make. Not just you.

[ Syrlya asks him to listen, and Trahearne's eyes, bright yellow in the night, drag up from the grip on his arm to the pools of Syrlya's eyes.

They do not leave his, not even when Syrlya averts his gaze, every pang of emotion feeding right into the turmoil in his own chest. The profession of love sets a weight onto him that shatters all else that had persisted under the weight of everything else--beneath the Wyld Hunt, beneath his devotion to the Pale Tree, to Tyria, beneath his duty to the Pact, beneath the apocalyptic threats--and a warmth, indescribable, nothing like he has ever experienced before, spreads through him. It catches in his throat, pricks at the back of his eyes.

He doesn't mean for the tears to fall when he blinks; it isn't a reaction to the factual statement that they were never lovers. They never were. Somewhere in the depths of both of their hearts, they acknowledged the love they had for one another, but they both knew nothing could ever come of it. They had more important things to worry about. And what sort of Pact would they be if those at the top were having such an affair?

He remembers the night after Zhaitan's defeat, when he at last realized how deeply in love he was with Syrlya, that there had been a glimmer of hope in him--maybe one day, once it was all over, that things between them might go beyond professional. Beyond friends. Beyond family.

That day would never come, it turns out.

It was only recently that he decided to make this a reality regardless, unilaterally. Perhaps it was selfish of him. For reasons Syrlya skims by, but does not touch on. He doesn't know how to romance, or pursue another for partnership. Time and time again here he's found himself falling into the arms of other people, seemingly haphazardly. Why is it when he wants to do something of his own will, it never seems to go right?

He knows that no matter what Syrlya says to him in the next seconds, moments, minutes, he, too, will always love him. In ways far beyond counting.

He's been unfair. He knows this. Despite all the excuses he has, he knows best not to bring up any of them.

When Syrlya looks back up to him, Trahearne's eyes are there, already waiting for him, ready to receive him. The look in his eye is familiar--the gears turn in his head as he processes this new information. He thinks, but does so without judgment. As always, his commander is right.

And he loves him all the more for it.

After a brief pause, Trahearne gives a nod. His voice is deliberately controlled, albeit shaky, desperately trying to keep composure as emotion surges between them both. ]

Of course not. I have been...wrong to go about this the way I have.

If you have thoughts regarding the matter, I'm more than happy to hear them.

[ His tone is painfully professional. Probably the only way he'll be able to keep himself together. ]

[Syrlya purses his lips, finally raising his hips and his hand slides off Trahearne's arm.] If... you intend to pursue me, then--it needs to be with your full heart and effort. Not signing me up for other people, and not backing out the second it does not go as you expect.

I can't live up to that. I can only give you my sincerity.

[ Something in him sparks, a fire ignites, and smoke chokes all the doubt that had threatened to consume him. He reaches up, using the brief pause after Syrlya speaks to wipe away his unwitting tears. He feels the torrent of emotion in him calming as his rational mind kicks into gear, reframing his situation, his mindset.

Syrlya, from the very beginning, had always taught him what it meant to not give up. Cleansing Orr, pursuing a romantic relationship... Perhaps they are not so dissimilar after all. Perhaps Syrlya is his new Wyld Hunt.

It turns out his sincerity--his honesty is all he needs. ]

If that is your answer--

Edited (continuity) 2023-02-12 23:48 (UTC)

[ Trahearne's hand catches Syrlya's as slides away. ]

--Then I will.

[ His full heart and effort? Hopefully this isn't Syrlya biting off more than he can chew.

There's a brief moment of light contact on Syrlya's hand before the grip tightens, before Trahearne's other hand whips around to the small of his back and pulls him in close. He looms over the shorter man, gaze at once affectionate and alight with the fire of determination. A torrent of love, the very same he had tried so hard to contain for years, spills forth. ]

I love you, Syrlya. I want to live the life with you we never got to have, I want to love you in ways I have never loved another before. And I will fight the goddess herself to ensure we return to Tyria together.

[ He knows he doesn't have to fight--a little b...ug told him that. But the sentiment is the same.

He smiles, admiring the slow pulse of the other's glow. ]

You are more brilliant than any sun. More beautiful than any constellation in the night sky. More stalwart than the greatest oaks.

[ His head dips a bit towards his, eyes never leaving him. ]

And I am going to date you.

Whoa--[Syrlya is pulled in before he can react, staring up at Trahearne's as he's arched with the gesture.]

... Don't fight the goddess. Or any god. [He knows how that goes!!] I don't want you vaporized for the chance of recovering your life. And don't make any agreements before the terms are completely clear! She was very vague with Mishka, what she gives may not be what you expect.

[Yeah, he's heard about that part too. He's heard about A Bit of things Trahearne did not say to him directly.]

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