crescentview | spring catch-all for the bug eater farm

[ Peace does not erase the pain. Sometimes, it makes it louder.

The nightmares come with relative frequency, in spite of the gentle rays of spring and the calm winds of Crescentview, always a stark reminder of what came before. The screams of his brothers and sisters as the succumb to the dragon, of his soldiers as they fall, of the voice haunts him in a way he finds hard to put into words.

It is always the morning sun that eases the wounds, praise the Pale Tree and the goddess, but at times, the timing is not so kind to him.

Trahearne's start comes in the dead of night this time. He feels the sting on his chest, his wound still healing, and screams of the dying and the turned linger in his ears. It takes a moment for him to remember that reality is no longer his, and that he is okay now. Some nights, he doubts if he truly is, but the daytime always eases those doubts.

It is quiet. If Kaspar is still sleeping or out elsewhere, Trahearne does not bother to check. He gets from his bed and quietly leaves the room, exits the house, and wanders to a stump at the far end of their clearing. Here, the rays of the moon are the strongest. It is the best place for him to calm himself, to remind himself what life is, before he attempts sleep again. ]

[ From the forest past the clearing, drifts a soft and familiar voice carrying a lilting and meandering lullaby. Spoken in a language not of the island, his voice flows naturally from note to note. Long ones, varied, a soothing melody that is quiet enough the song of birds would drown it out during the light of day. It trails off, pauses, then picks up again as if piecing it together. The gentle sound announces his approach only over the quieter sounds of the forest at night. It is still a wonder to him, how much life surrounds them at all times.

A melodic vowel tapers off, shriveling up once he spies Trahearne on his stump. Silent now, he leaves the shadows of the treeline behind wearing a predictably calm smile. His glow is soft tonight, steady in the spring air and dimmed once stepping into the brighter light of the moon.

Once again, it is hard to tell if he has been to sleep at all. His bed is always made, overly neat to a clear standard. And he has become more adept at stepping quietly when his roommate is sleeping. Easier yet, as floorboards get replaced. Flannel shirt and leather boots obscure whether his sleeping attire hides beneath them. After all the socializing at the dance, his subsequent missing the night of, Kaspar has been a touch reclusive, besides meals, before appearing now. A recharge. A strangely peaceful one as he daydreamed more frequently about the farm.

Hands behind his back as he approaches, Kaspar does not mention the singing. There is no sign of embarrassment either. It is Trahearne, after all. Which is why he steps close, looking down and offering a hand that he frees from his glove. ]

... did I, wake you?

Edited (Wrong word, look--) 2022-12-26 12:25 (UTC)

[ Sometimes, none of this feels real. Save for the commander, the faces he sees throughout the day feel like figments of his imagination in the wee hours of the morning like this. Van Zieks, Diluc, Kaspar. Kaeya. Trahearne feels like he could have easily made all these people up, individuals created in a consciousness at the brink of death in order to ease the pain of the looming end. Had he truly done anything to earn their friendship? Their...affection?

Quiet, approaching footsteps gradually lift him from his reverie. These he has come to recognize as Kaspar's. He drops his gaze from the moon and glances over his shoulder; he can feel the tension leaving him as his housemate nears. ]

No, not at all.

[ At last a small smile graces Trahearne's face. With a gentle touch he places his hand to Kaspar's and slowly gets to his feet. By now the other man's hands are a familiar warmth, and it eases the troubles that quietly brew beneath the nighttime sky.

As he reaches his full height, however, Trahearne's smile falls. In its place is a frown, born from distress and terror. Though he knows he can never, will never return to the horrors of the jungle, the memories and scars are still fresh in his mind. ]

I had another nightmare.

[ There is no relief in that answer. And even less in that expression once it falls. Kaspar's remains peaceful, though worry threads his brow and tiredness is hinted at in its edges. Their traumas might not be the same, though there is something to be said for those that have both experienced war. Kaspar was lucky enough to leave most of his nightmares behind.

It is affection for his roommate that moves Kaspar forward. Slowly, with all the careful movement afforded someone , wrapping a free arm over his shoulders. A half of a hug that he lifts his heels slightly for, so as not to break the contact of their hands.

There is a pause. ]

... was it the same?

[ Trahearne leans forward slightly to make it easier for Kaspar to wrap his arm over his shoulder. But after a moment, though he likes the contact of their hands, it suddenly doesn't feel like enough. Like his fears and scars might bleed through in their tentative contact.

He lets go of Kaspar's hand and wraps both of his arms around his torso in a gentle hold, and presses his face into his shoulder.

If anything, it grounds him, distracts him from his ever-churning thoughts. ]

It was. [ His voice is muffled against the fabric of Kaspar's clothes.

He pauses. ]

But it does not make it hurt any less.

[ Kaspar allows Trahearne's hand to slip from his. Trudging through the forest, the smell of trees and flowers still cling to the clean fabric of his clothes. It is hard to take comfort in the feeling of being embrace while the horror of nightmares lingers beneath the surface. His freed hand reaches for the back of the other man's head; an attempt at the gentle, comforting press of reassurance and caring fingers up his nape.

This close, because he cannot see his face and Kaspar has become far too accustomed to his presence, the words come noticeably easier and quieter. He turns his head towards him, without minding proximity. ]

... would you, like to talk about it?

[ With its proximity the scent of the forest and all its life on Kaspar's clothes calm Trahearne. Flashes of home pass through his mind; there is nowhere better that soothes his troubles than his mother's boughs. Funny he should think of her right in this moment, but he isn't going to argue.

He doesn't respond right away. It's only after a moment spent inhaling the scent of the earth and taking in Kaspar's warmth does he say anything. ]

I don't know if I should.

[ He lifts his head slightly, turning to look at his housemate. He doesn't seem to mind the proximity either. ]

I wouldn't want to burden you.

[ Kaspar is predictably patient, quiet and still save for the comforting ministrations of his hand down from head to back. But it is only once Trahearne answers that he finds himself able to be taken up by the comfort too. Kaspar relaxes then, as does his smile.

He might not want to go home, but there are the little things he didn't know he'd taken for granted. Like glowing together in the dark. Old memories, softened by new ones like the moonlight and the sudden feeling of closeness. Arm's length, yet now someone else has slipped past. It is strange to think how naturally it happened without his notice. Built up in the domestic moments; shared toils, respect, and rewards eased the way. An understanding of war and pain too, despite sharing little to nothing of his personal experience with the other. Those memories were not for lingering in.

There is little that Trahearne could say to burden him. His voice is a soft whisper. Though there is no pressure in it either way. He is a good listener. ]

It is no burden.

[ Perhaps Kaspar thinks it no burden, but he doesn't know the weight of it yet. One mistake, one impulse that cost the lives of hundreds. He has yet to speak of it to anyone--not even Syrlya. He doesn't think the horrors of the jungle and all the nightmares that stem from it should be talked about in a place as idyllic as Crescentview. There is farming to do, after all.

Eventually, he peels himself from Kaspar, just far enough to way to look at him, still close enough that his arms remain around him. For a moment, Trahearne simply observes his glow, noting how both similar and different it is from his own, before he speaks in a quiet voice. ]

I made a mistake, Kaspar. And it cost me everything.

[ How many deaths come down to the mistakes made by the ignorant or the well intentioned? Kaspar is not proud of the ones he is responsible for, personally or under his command. But he doesn't think of any of that right now. His attention is captured by Trahearne with a caring intensity. It is a look reserved for working on his passions alone, or when he believes himself to be. It is not often directed at people, after the rebukes of his youth. Impulsively, it feels right.

Kaspar's hand pauses, thumb grazing in gentle reassurance. Warm emotion coats his calm voice, because this feels important, brittle in its structure but felt deeply. The words matter to him, however quiet. ]

... You exist here. That is something.

[ Kaspar's stare is returned with equal intensity, yellow eyes piercing in the darkness. Trahearne's look, however, is one of analysis, of study. What goes on in Kaspar's head, what drives him still remains much of a mystery to Trahearne. Regardless, though, he feels comforted by the look, warmth from both his gaze and his hands seeping through him like moonlight.

The reassurance comes as a surprise. He does exist here. He is alive here. That is not nothing. The worry across his face eases when he hears that, and he offers Kaspar a slow blink. ]

I do. And it is.

[ But everything--all the circumstances that led to this very moment--came at such a high price. Is it okay for him to live in peace farming, pursuing the one person he had resigned himself to never pursuing at all due to duty, when it came at the cost of thousands of Pact soldier and sylvari lives? Why does he get this, and they don't?

Distress settles over Trahearne's countenance again; a quiet storm of doubts roil in his chest. His hold on Kaspar tightens ever so slightly, as though seeking forgiveness for the wrong he is inevitably creating by simply being here. And his head dips again, this time burying himself in the crook of Kaspar's neck. ]

[ The light blue glow of his eyes does not flicker through the analysis of yellow. His gaze does not falter, a testament to Kaspar's soft and caring brand of strength. Not the type he was ever appreciated for back home, though they both know he holds the physical kind as well. He smiles at the initial response.

In his ignorance, Kaspar had meant the mistake didn't cost Trahearne this refuge, the peace they've both found and nurtured here. That no matter the mistake, existence in the present matters. But he also knows a chord once struck. Especially with the distress and the tightening of that cool grip. He does the same once Trahearne's head finds the crook of his neck. Kaspar starts to stroke the back of it gently again. He leans his head just so, to rest against the other man's. His strength lends his embrace weight, protective and as warm as the tapered and muscular torso Trahearne has looped and tightened his arms around.

What had he longed for most, and never recieved, after waking up from the horrors of the tunnels? Being held, finding sleep in the innocent warmth of someone --or his lonely imaginings of it. Unlike the cold and unfeeling dark. If there is a long enough silence, Kaspar is comfortable in it. It is a warm embrace of Trahearne whole; mistakes and imperfections, weaknesses and vulnerabilities. And also of the man he is now, no matter what happened for him to be here with Kaspar in the moonlight.

If Trahearne says nothing still, Kaspar eventually will. Because he is willing to stand here until he passes out, but he'd longed for his bed before finding Trahearne out here. ]

[ The way Kaspar leans his head against Trahearne's, how he strokes the back of his neck--it soothes him. The anxiety and guilt dips and rises with each thought that passes through his mind, about second chances. About what he should or should not be doing. To offer wordless comfort is a powerful skill, a testament both to Kaspar's character and their own bond as friends and housemates, but all of the worst parts of Trahearne seem to be doing their best to fight back. And they're winning.

He does eventually speak up, not long after. He lifts his head, ever so slightly, not particularly aware of how close they are. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and quivers slightly. ]

I don't deserve this.

[ The peace. The comfort. Kaspar's caring warmth. And these nightmares are doing well to remind him. ]

[ Kaspar is quiet still for a moment, in case there are any more words loitering in the wings. It feels to Kaspar as though Trahearne is being held together in more ways than one by his comfort. And he cares for Trahearne deeply enough to provide it unquestioningly. It matters not, what mistakes were made. No matter how grave, Trahearne cares about the consequences and that is what matters to Kaspar. The same forgiveness he provided himself, however shaky its foundation far beneath the surface.

Disagreements are things Kaspar actively avoids. White lies, mistruths, omissions, and distractions are his most adept and indirect tools. Which makes the way he speaks with resoluteness again striking, grip tight. ]

I am glad you are here, deserving or not.

[ And as he says it, his freer arm finally joins the first as his hand falls from Trahearne's neck. Both strong arms wrap around his shoulders tightly, as if attempting to anchor him to the present. Kaspar's feelings are the only things he has the authority to claim. He believes Trahearne deserves it all, but there is no convincing the suffering with more than piecemeal truths. And maybe he really doesn't deserve it. Kaspar wouldn't care, perhaps a bit selfishly. ]

[ Rarely has another ever told Trahearne that they're happy he's here. Not for a job, not for a specific purpose, but just to be.

The admission almost moves him to tears, him already being in an emotional state. A small voice in the darkest corners of his mind nag him, telling him that Kaspar only says this because he doesn't know anything about Trahearne. But what he sees, what he feels does well to silence that sentiment. He clings to what Kaspar says to him, physically holding him closer, hoping it will absolve him of his guilt. ]

...Thank you, Kaspar. [ His voice is thick, though genuine all the same. In Kaspar's tightened hold, he leans to rest his temple against his. ] I'm glad I'm here, too.

[ As selfish as it is for him to admit such a thing. ]

[ Kaspar holds him as long as he likes, those words prompting a gentle squeeze. Quiet and content with their temples resting, the sentiment he feels in the other's voice and hold on him is contagious; welling his eyes with tears that he closes his eyes against.

He isn't sure what posesses him in the warm silence that follows the admission. Impulse and utter relief at the truth he senses in those words has him turning his head after a beat. Raising his heels just enough, he moves to press his lips to Trahearne's temple.

His arms are occupied, but Kaspar's aim is to press their foreheads together in the wake of it, gently with a small and grateful smile. His eyes are still wet, but he is searching again. As if he can read Trahearne's thoughts through his eyes. ]

... are you, still tired?

[ In all honesty, Trahearne is not expecting that.

In the brief moment between the kiss and when their foreheads touch, he looks at his housemate, eyes wide in surprise. It shocks him out of his melancholy, however, and warms him from the inside with acceptance. One he isn't sure is warranted, yet it feels strangely appropriate coming from Kaspar.

And now, with the tension gone, he feels the exhaustion of a night's rest lost seep through his limbs. ]

...I am.

[ He is grateful he has such a good friend and housemate.

Yet he isn't sure why his gratitude has taken over his own impulses in this way--his eyes drop from Kaspar's to his lips as he shifts his head ever so slightly, just enough to lightly brush their lips together. ]

I should go back to sleep.

[ The progression from pressed foreheads to brushing lips is so natural that Kaspar accepts it on instinct. No tensing or flinching, just the casual and slightest of presses back against the affection. This is his first here. And it makes his heart skip a beat, unsure how he'd forgotten what that feels like.

It's been so long since he's felt actual lips against his own, however briefly and lightly. He blinks back the tears again. If this were anyone else, he'd have pulled back to nod or fluidly make his exit. To let the tears flow freely alone. But he hardly feels alone at all anymore living here. And it is hard to nod with an occupied forehead.

Trahearne is his first kiss here and is now the first to hear the vulnerability in Kaspar's voice when he truly forces himself past his capacity for words. With the two of them here, alone and close in their own newly tranquil world, at least his throat doesn't feel like it is closing. ]

... I, should do the same.

[ He admits, but doesn't move away. ]

[ Neither does Trahearne.

He isn't quite sure what exactly it is about any of this that makes it so difficult to tear away. He is tired, energy quickly leaving him as his tension dissipates. Perhaps Kaspar's warmth in his hold is giving him the false idea that he could fall asleep here, standing. Though he could most certainly fall asleep outside, he is privileged with a bed here, in their house.

They have always been close; Trahearne had been so afraid of physical contact in those early days. But that has been slowly whittled away in no small part by Kaspar's affection. Though Kaspar is not his first by any means, though Trahearne is almost certain there is no romantic connection between them, it feels right. Perhaps in a few days, perhaps even in the morning, he will begin to analyze and justify his actions--it is in his nature to think and overthink--but for now, he lends himself to instinct and emotion.

Again he leans in, molding their lips together a touch more firmly, but he does not let it linger. He pulls back. ]

Then we should go back.

[ Kaspar's nature is not to overthink the machinations of the universe. What do they matter in the face of whatever cosmic force allowed the two of them to stand here together, embracing and exchanging kisses that neither of them have given thought to? But they don't feel careless. So he welcomes the firmer pressure against his lips. Kaspar matches the pressure, leaning in slightly to slot their lips together.

It is so brief a gesture that it leaves Kaspar's lips tingling; an innocent want for their return, however sweet or chaste or otherwise. But Trahearne's retreat says as much as words. And he accepts what he is given.

Yet there is no tension. No asking for more friendly kisses, indulgences, that will likely fill his head on the relatively short distant home. There is hardly an indication at all besides the subtle swipe of his tongue over his own lips as he pulls back. Kaspar reaches for Trahearne's hand, seeking to thread their fingers on the way back home. ]

Edited 2023-01-10 05:39 (UTC)

[ Trahearne entwines his fingers through Kaspar's, holding it close to his side as they slowly begin their walk back to the house.

In the absence of the fear and doubt from his nightmare, the exhaustion has taken hold. He's looking forward to finding true rest now, owed mostly, he believes, to the comfort Kaspar has offered them. That he's been given a farming partner like him has been a genuine blessing, and it's times like this that truly drive this fact home. ]

Thank you, Kaspar. [ His voice is low, his gaze settled on the path of luminescent mushrooms that lead to their front door. ] I'm lucky to have a housemate like you.

[ Kaspar keeps pace with Trahearne. His steps bring him as close as he thunks a lover might, shoulders brushing without the heady weight of expectation. He is glad for the easy physical contact between them, especially in the little moments like this. A walk in the forest, or simply following the softly lit trail of their efforts as if to guide them home again. A home of their own making. The safest place Kaspar remembers ever having. It is no wonder then, how much sincere effort Kaspar has put into making their farm a reflection of themselves. Of their friendship, including all of the twisting paths it may take. It is pure in its freedom from convention or the opinions of those that do not understand.

There are no words he finds adequate to describe how he feels about the other man, but his gestures of affection are the practical and beautiful sort. He yawns quietly into the back of his free hand as they make their way. It has become a habit, when their hands are so closely entwined, for him to squeeze in the silence that precedes his words. If the words come at all.

He is aware, though, on some innate level, how good they have been for one another here. Compliments and gratitue hit Kaspar just as warmly as they always have, his glow noticeably but softly flickering beside Trahearne. ]

... We are, equally blessed.

[ He goes quiet then. And remains so unless Trahearne breaks it again before the point at which they should separate.

Kaspar looks to Trahearne, wordlessly stepping toward his own bed, still meticulously made. With their hands still entwined, it is an offer. One they both probably know Kaspar will take no offense if declined. ]

Edited 2023-01-10 17:26 (UTC)

[ Trahearne only smiles in turn. His glow is bright, pulsing slowly in the manner of human breath, a calming light in the dark of night. They go quite well together, don't they?

The sylvari tendency for physical intimacy was quickly unlearned in Trahearne--he spent much of his time alone, around other races. They were more conservative with who they touched and how, so he learned to keep his distance, let others defined the standard of touch between them. And when the younger generations of sylvari came to be, he found himself keenly aware of his status among them as elder. For a younger to touch Firstborn Trahearne was arrogant and unthinkable (at least, until Syrlya came along).

But all of that has quickly come undone in Kaspar's company. His nature returns to him, and he loves the warmth of the other's hand on his. He likes that they walk so close, share touch without a second thought or ulterior motive. It is natural for both of them.

And so when Kaspar steps towards his bed, his gaze towards Trahearne no more than a friendly invitation to remain in one another's company, he gladly obliges. He comes to stand by the foot of the bed, allowing Kaspar to do then honors of peeling back the covers and making room for him. There is no expectation here, only caring closeness. ]

[ There are many rules for Kaspar back home. In part because of who he is and his status as an asset of their named generation; a brother to those elevated to the highest ranking positions they can hold. From living by the bells and rules about physical contact with others, Kaspar is glad for the freedom to take Trahearne's hand here. And to also release it once they've arrived at his bed.

Kaspar peels back a spot for him, untucking the blanket and stepping to the side to remove his shirt and increase the faint glow in the room. Being shirtless around men hasn't phased him since adolescence. Though here it is not an uncommon sight inside, it is positively unheard of outside their walls. Another duality, though both are somehow equally as Kaspar.

The hint of the larger burn on his hip is, as ever, not discernable with what is visible above his pants. Or, not visible, as it is the only part of his skin that is entirely and markedly devoid of luminescence.

He toed off his boots with a practiced motion somewhere between the front door and now, leaving him in only his sleeping pants when he returns to slide in beside him. There is usually a longer nightly routine for him. One he completely earlier but is partly undone by his time in the forest tonight. Kaspar's loose curls and skin will survive the sacrifice for him to be able to hold someone that he cares deeply for in his arms. ]

Edited 2023-01-11 00:51 (UTC)

[ Trahearne doesn't even blink as Kaspar undresses--if he doesn't mind, then neither does he. Though he doesn't usually sleep under the covers (or shed his leaves to sleep), he obliges tonight, scooting towards the far end to make room for his housemate.

It's not long before his own arms tangle around the other. He realizes quite quickly that the warm comfort of company is going to send him to slumber before he knows it.

Not before he shifts forward to kiss Kaspar on the forehead first, though. ]

Goodnight, Kaspar.

🌜💤🌲🌸🛏💏🛌🌸🌲💤🌛

bluminescence - 2023-01-11 07:00 (UTC) - Expand

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pactmarshal - 2023-01-12 03:59 (UTC) - Expand

spring catch-all for the bug eater farm

🌸 for kaspar

now remembering to hit post

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