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

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.]

[ Trahearne watches him for a moment, at once appreciating Syrlya's immediate worry and amused by the sincerity of his reaction.

Stop talking about Mishka. ]

You are so earnest—your concern touches me. I suppose that's another thing I love about you.

[ He dips further to chuckle quietly into Syrlya's ear, his voice low in a murmur. ]

But the sentiment still stands. I will do anything to ensure we return together. Alive.

[Don't tell him what to do.]

Don't think too far ahead of yourself. [It's a warning, as much as a concern. There are... a lot of factors that could make it risky or impossible. Syrlya isn't the spring of hope he used to be, not really. He puts on a good front, but... he won't pretend for something he is so unconfident about. This isn't stabilizing a curse. It's not corruption.]

A soul can be destroyed and if you lose yours on a slim chance you can undo your death instead of making the most of what we have now... that, I will not forgive you for.

[He's already lost Trahearne once.

He can't go through it again.]

[ He pulls back to look at him, smile dropping from his face. It would be a lie to say he's not surprised in the face of how gravely he treats this.

And as he speaks, he shifts his hand to entwine his fingers in Syrlya's. ]

I know.

[ They're being serious and not romantic about this? Fine. ]

Don't think I don't already understand the risks, or that the realistic hope of my renewed survival on Tyria is slim. But you were the one who taught me hope in the face of impossible odds. [ He squeezes his hand. He feels undefeatable by Syrlya's side. ]

And that's precisely why I am doing this. [ He leans in again to place a kiss to his forehead. ] I want a taste of the life we never had. I know how much I would regret it if I were to watch you walk away without even trying.

[ A phantom of that imagined pain stings at his chest. ]

[They're not being romantic because he is stressed! He is a stressed little plant who has not felt very romanced for most of this date.

Syrlya was the one who instilled hope in Trahearne, once. Using his words against him now, huh?

He doesn't like that he can't actually stop Trahearne from doing something possibly reckless for this. He's always, always hated when the fair thing is to hold back, to let his loved ones risk themselves for because he must respect their choices.

He hates even more that Trahearne is only doing it for him. That kind of burden is crushing.] I'm not saying we cannot try to date here I just--

[He lets out an agitated breath, trying to pull his hand free. He thought having his feelings returned would be more freeing but this conversation has been overwhelming. And he's struggling to balance both of their feelings.] Can we actually try before you build up any more expectations of me? Of us?

[ Trahearne would scold Syrlya if he knew he was trying to carry both of their weight. That's a bad habit you've picked up, sapling.

But he doesn't. He lets Syrlya's hand go when he wrenches it free, and a frustrated frown crosses his face. A different spark ignites in him--this time, it is far less beautiful. Much uglier, less controlled. ]

What is it you want to try, then? [ His temper pulls at his features, his voice comes out a little louder, a little sharper than he intends. ] I am trying. I am showing you my full heart, as you asked, so we are clearly not on the same page.

I thought we were going to try romance, not that you were seriously thinking about ways to return alive like--it has been seven years! What if that does not work out? And what if we don't work out?

[He just drops his bag, rubbing his face with his hands before just burying it in them.]

[ Ah. That's where they're different.

Trahearne had been operating on the assumption that they would work out. And that all the ups and downs that come from navigating a relationship would just be part of it. But it seems Syrlya is too preoccupied with the assumption that they won't.

And that hurts a little.

Regardless, Trahearne cools his temper and calms himself. He feels Syrlya's stress and frustration fill the void left behind, and he gives a deep exhale, trying to strengthen his own calm for him.

He remains quiet for a moment. Though his instinct wants to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, he can recognize when he's done enough touching. ]

I speak from experience when I say that to preoccupy oneself with what-ifs without action only sets one up for failure. [ How many years did he stall on his Wyld Hunt because of that? ] And that's why we try.

Please, have faith in us.

Edited 2023-02-13 09:59 (UTC)

[He... doesn't want to burden Trahearne with how painful the grief had been in the wake of his death. The seven years of it never truly settling and his heart staying firmly latched on the one he lost because those what-ifs were the closest thing he was ever going to have, the closest he would be to anyone when his life made any partnership unideal.

Of course he thinks about it not working out. He's different. He's grieved. It would not be a stretch in his mind that Trahearne will see that and back out again. It would be expected that there's no turning back the clock and their time here is all they'll get until Syrlya jobs him in the Mists.

And if he tells this to Trahearne he will surely carry the blame himself. As of it was ever his fault he could not make it.

He takes a shaky breath, lowering his hands as he turns his attention up to Trahearne.]

... Okay. We try.

[ Trahearne's eyes are there, ready to receive Syrlya's as he looks back up at him again. There's a light feeling in the pit of his stomach, and though small, a smile crosses his face.

It's at once hopeful, but sad. Understanding, but wistful. Things are...complicated. More than he had anticipated. Seven years is a gap difficult to bridge. Syrlya has been through things beyond his imagining, and has accrued scars he will likely never show him.

But Trahearne is determined to make it work. He wants to love all of the scars and the guilt and the pain that weigh on him. And even if he cannot follow Syrlya, he wants to send him home with no regrets. ]

We try.

[ An affirmation, a conclusion to the thesis. Again he feels nervous to be treading into untrodden territory, but at the same time...perhaps a little happy.

Maybe he'll save all of the grand gestures of affection for a little later. ]

I would like to continue our outing, but I know I have caused you undeserved stress, and I do not want to agitate you any further. [ Even though he already has...an idea. ] Let me know how you'd like to proceed.

[ If he needs a moment...or more. ]

Edited (hmm) 2023-02-13 17:31 (UTC)

[He probably does need a moment. The emotional whiplash has made him tired and unsteady. But what comes out instead is--] We might as well see this through. I've already paid to rent the dress.

[He grabs the handle of his shopping bag, hoisting it back up.]

You're renting it?

[ That comes as a surprise actually, though the curiosity in his tone is stronger than the surprise.

Well. That changes things a little bit. whyd u rent a white dress bbgirl. Regardless, Trahearne starts walking again, his pace slow. ]

How long do you get to keep it?

It was only for rental. [Apparently their fancy stuff is too high demand to sell, being seemingly the only boutique to service the whole island.]

I have until the day after tomorrow to return it, in case it needs to be cleaned.

I see. [ Trahearne hums in thought. Well, it'd be a shame to put the dress to waste, but they'll think of something. At least Syrlya doesn't have to worry about returning it tomorrow, and that won't hang on Trahearne's consciousness. ]

I thought it might be nice to explore the mines for a bit, [ and get their minds off this ] but I wouldn't want your dress to get dirty.

[Syrlya looks down at himself.]

Oh, no I couldn't go down there in this. [Last time he did there was a bear and he got injured. Not to mention it's so dirty.] I would have to change... and it would be best if I took the dress home and not brought it down in the bag, either.

[ A nod. At least he's amenable to the idea! That's a relief. ]

A fair call. We should get something to eat when we drop by your house as well. We shouldn't be exploring on empty stomachs.

[ And it will probably make both of them feel better. ]

You want to go at night? I hope you're magic has mostly returned, it can be dangerous down there.

[But he'll turn to start heading off the beach, beach home. It'll be quite a walk and they're going to be up very late, so they might as well get going now.] I still have leftovers of the meal that Mishka brought yesterday. That would be filling enough.

[ Trahearne's pace quickens. He's right!

But mention of Mishka's name causes him to bristle, again, just ever so slightly. He does not want to think about Mishka right now.

Glossing over that. ]

It's mostly returned, actually. [ He smiles, confident. ] I don't have any of my weapons, but I'll make do.

[ He's not worried. A stick and coconut worked well enough for him before, so. ]

It sounds as though yours has.

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

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