[Isaac shrinks away from Hector’s tenderness, as Hector should have predicted he would. It’s a known behavior, though Hector doesn’t understand the complexity of the reasoning behind it.]
I could show you how it could be. [He says into Isaac’s ear, an offer likely doomed for failure.
Isaac's retreat hurts, even though Hector should have known better than to make such an advance.
The closeness, the warmth, Hector refuses to surrender. That, at least, they can grant one another. As Isaac had done a moment before, Hector twines his arms around his body and fits them together, front to back. His hand finds a more innocent purchase than Isaac’s had, settling on the hard plane of Isaac’s chest, feeling for the beat of his heart.]
Taking his eyes off Hector, turning his back. Doomed by a split second's carelessness.
He should've left Hector to sleep, should've made his own mind and left before dawn, alone. But life is full of missteps and mistakes, some more dangerous than others. Should've been stronger, fought harder.
Should've known better.
Despite how careful Hector's movements are - and maybe because they are, too, his mind given more time to tailspin over all the terrible possibilities he can think of - he feels himself flinch and go numb, paralyzed in the way he hasn't experienced since he was still a boy. It's the closest he's let anyone approach him from behind in just as long; the ones he let was because he had to, when he still occupied the lowest rungs of the castle hierarchy and he learned there was safety in keeping his head down and swallowing his rage, his pride, than in rising to a challenge he couldn't hope to beat. The only reason he thinks he hasn't driven his elbow back and into Hector, struggling away from him, is because he still can't, trapped by his own body. But it's more complicated than that. His muscles twitch with everything they can't unlearn, his heartbeat racing under Hector's hand. Would that Hector could reach inside him and tear it out, not to keep for himself but to get rid of it for good.]
Don't. [Is all he can get out through his teeth, and his voice sounds thick and shaky and wrong. Almost unrecognizable but for the anger in it. ]
[Hector loosens his embrace a little, but doesn’t release Isaac. He’s too cold and tired and Isaac’s body is the closest he’ll get to a blanket tonight.]
Shhhh. [He soothes, the way he used to do for wild animals whose wounds he wanted to draw near to heal. No more kisses, that’s fine. He won’t press further. It was a long shot anyways.]
We’re just sleeping. You can hold me if you’d rather, but neither of us need to freeze this night.
[He doesn’t have the energy to fight any more than that, and he shifts against Isaac as gently as he can, trying to find the least uncomfortable position to doze. If Isaac breaks away from him, they will both be enduring a miserable few hours until they leave the cave
In the morning, Hector will puzzle over Isaac, can make a plan to slowly acclimate him to kindness... but tonight, both his body and mind have reached their limits.]
[Isaac hisses, still so wired and helpless but to wait for the shock to ease off, wait for the moment the past lets go and he can breathe, really breathe, again.
Through the half-panic whirling through him, he does realize that Hector hasn't really moved, his hand at rest, making no demands of him. Hector never was a conqueror. But what Hector is in this moment, curved into his trembling back, quiet and warm and shushing him, is beyond him. The part of Isaac that isn't caught between bristling and wanting to jump out of his own skin would laugh a sick, sad laugh. If only he could.
Come morning, when the harsh light of day would touch down and lay their choices bare, he's sure Hector will remember Rosaly and his betrayal in fraternizing with the enemy, and in silence they'd work to forget that Hector ever dared to lay a kiss on his lips and make him feel like there was one thing still right with the world, at least for a little while.
They're both mistakes, and history would suggest that two wrongs never make a right.
But for now, for now, they're just sleeping.
And eventually, broken and folding under the strain of being on edge for so long, Isaac fades, fades, his body finally softening into Hector's chest.]
[Hector wakes, one arm asleep and every piece of him protesting a night spent on rocks, to the buzzing of the fairy's wings near his ear. The little creature points mutely at the entrance of the cave, now filling with light. 'Time to be up.'
Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]
[It's not unlike him to sleep in snatches and last night was no different, shivering to half-consciousness, hazily puzzling over the heat prickling his back and deciding it's Abel before dropping off again. But only approaching dawn - something that troubles him, when he's properly awake - does a niggling sense of off-ness reach him deep enough to shake him out of whatever false sense of safety and comfort that Hector, of all people, lulled him into. He knows Abel, and flowing through its body isn't a warm breath or a single drop of blood, but the cold magic of the devil's art.
Isaac's body gives a little jerk when he wakes, staring at the same wall he fell asleep to. It's a lighter shade of gray now, like Abel's scuted hide; outside, day is breaking, but it seems neither of them are in any great hurry. He lies very still under the tingling touch to the back of his head, lies like he used to, breath bitten back and a dagger in his hand, only feigning sleep - to the shifting of fabric and flesh, his skin prickling. Hector doesn't touch him again. Instead, he feels magic wash over him, cool and calming, a leeching of pain from his muscles. The tension knotting them, however, is there to stay.
To Hector, he says nothing. But he climbs to his feet with hollow-eyed determination, not looking his way, and in a single movement answers several questions. It takes a moment for the dizziness to pass from swinging up off the ground, though when his vision steadies and the fog in his head thins, the only thing that feels real, that assures him he isn't sleeping still, is the brisk morning chill and the heaviness in his bladder. When he pisses off to the side, he neither turns away nor makes a show of it, finishing with a shake and tucking himself away before he moves to gather his weapons. He glances to the cave entrance where Hector and his fairy happen to be waiting. He'll meet his gaze sternly, with shoulders squared, fingers squeezing and unsqueezing around the hilt of his sword.
Abel rejoins him.]
Do you sense them near? [He'll duck out, squinting, into the pale, silvery light before waiting too long for an answer, meaning to get a read on their immediate surroundings himself.]
[There's a tension hanging heavy over the cave. Hector nods as Isaac joins him at the cave's entrance. He has his makeshift mace in hand.]
They're getting closer. We should go now if we want to stay ahead of them.
[He still hopes, naively, to lead them away and part without any more bloodshed. If not for Julia's presence on the mountain, he would swear that he would do them no harm; since her safety is on the line, though, he will do whatever is necessary.
Isaac is already moving, never one to slow himself down for anyone else's sake. All Hector can do is follow, keeping low and watching his step to make sure he doesn't make any noise to alert the approaching hunters.]
[They're easily drawn to Abel as it zags overhead, moths to the flame, and this time it's Isaac who strikes first, like an angry god. Shots go wide, axes slicing air - the humans struggle to keep up, disoriented. Less hunters, now, so much as men in the wrong place at the wrong moment.
It's like old times, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy with Hector at his side -- and if there's anything of Hector he feels he can trust, it's his ability to hold his own. Isaac spares only a quick glance his way until the last man has fallen - an amateur sorcerer who can't outrun his dagger - and the world around them is still again. Sunlight is just slanting through a bank of clouds, trees stirring softly. Life goes on without missing a beat, just like it always does. And the cycle of blood for blood goes unbroken.
Huffing, Isaac shoves his heel down over the corpse and bends to jerk his red, dripping knife from its back, giving it a shake before sheathing it at his boot. He finds a cross glinting in the grass on the way back and sneers at its uselessness. Not the first time the Good Lord had failed the faithful - and far from the last, he muses.]
...'twas child's play.
[Sweat gleams at his forehead and the hollow of his throat, but he looks galvanized, hard from the rush of blood and magic and restless for a challenge.]
[The hunters spot Abel, and from that moment on, any choice of quitting this place in peace is lost. Hector has the training of a warrior, and in the midst of battle, he's able to put aside feeling and focus on survival.
When the fight is won, however, and he's left holding a mace bloodied with the pulp from inside of an unfortunate hunter's cracked skull, everything comes rushing back. There is no elation like there was in fighting Isaac. He struggles to keep from vomiting.
The makeshift weapon drops from his hand and he doesn't pick it up. He takes a shaky step toward Isaac. Wild, feral, victorious Isaac, who is taunting the fallen men with no concern for the lives that had been ended.]
They didn't hurt you? [The only way through this is to compartmentalize. Focus on his ally, and leave thoughts of the enemies until he can process them. Hector can make sure Isaac is unharmed. He can do nothing more to or for the men on the ground before them.]
We should keep moving. [The sick scent of blood and death, which he'd been so accustomed to in the past, is striking him anew and turning his stomach. 'Julia is safe. Isaac is safe. We did what we had to to make that so.' If he keeps telling himself that, he can force himself to keep going, and forcibly turn his thoughts away from whether these men had familes.]
[One man's idea of slaughter is another man's entertainment, his justice. Killing can't quiet the past or give him back the life he never had in the first place - and he knows this whenever the thrill dies off, always too soon, and he goes cold again. But raising his weapon means he isn't running or forced to hide like he used to; he isn't the helpless little boy he was once, nearly dying to men just like these hunters. Humans who could look at a pathetic wreck sobbing for mercy, and see only a liar, a creature, a threat to their own. He can't forgive, and he can't forget.
So he kills, and he laughs.
Whether Julia had ever understood that, he doesn't know, and tries not to care. She could do anything she wanted to try and change Wallachia, to heal everything that was wrong with it, he thinks, but she could never change him.
His smirk falters at Hector's unsteady approach, his empty hand. Something stirs inside him, closer to wariness than worry, and he doesn't like it. Hector doesn't seem wounded, but in the same way Hector is wondering about the blood streaking his furred cloak and scant armour plating, he can't be sure. He narrows his eyes, his gaze seeking the fairy before snapping back to Hector's face.]
Then arm yourself. [He says, more a command than anything else.]
[Isaac's barked order has Hector turning away from Isaac in instinctual compliance. Isaac isn't hurt. Those men -he can't even call them hunters anymore- had had no hope of defeating him without the element of surprise and a godly amount of luck. They'd been doomed from the start.
He sees the weapon, and leaves it where it fell. He's broken every resolution he's made in his life, and he may be destined to break this too, but he can't pick up a weapon he knows he'll have to turn against his fellow men again. Demons and creatures, he will fight without question, but this murder, this slaughter...he can't repeat.
The world isn't kind enough to suffer a pacifist to live, and he knows that he'll be forced to kill again one day to defend himself. But right now, today, he can't force himself to take his bloodied mace back up.]
...I don't sense anyone else around. If we go now, we won't have need of it.
[He starts walking out of the corpse-filled copse without waiting for Isaac's answer or his scorn.]
[Isaac goes rigid, turning a look on him that could strip metal.]
Hector! [He calls out after him, his mouth shaping his name into a warning, a weapon. But it's no use; Hector's free to safely defy his authority without threat of a higher power for Isaac to report to, and there's no punishment that can stamp out this infuriating reluctance he's seen rise in Hector before. Only death could free him of it, but by then, it'd be far too late.
Hurt and disgust curls in his gut.]
You damned fool!
[The mace goes flying after Hector, narrowly missing him.
Under the curse, Isaac remembers he had said that those who didn't fight didn't deserve to live, and he feels those same words weighing heavy on the tip of his tongue. Only the thought of Julia, it seems, keeps them there.
There'd be other slayers out for their heads - he's sure of it, just as surely as he'd seek to bait them out - and they wouldn't hesitate. Because the world isn't and would never be a place where everyone could live as equals, in peace, would never be safe enough for the hunted to afford to put their conscience, if any, ahead of what Isaac considers good sense.]
Think you this is some jest? That 'tis mercy they will show you should you spare their wretched lives? [A beat.] Will you heal their wounds in hopes that they invite you to their homes for dinner?
[He makes to catch up a in a few short, aggressive strides.]
[Hector keeps walking. He's capable of just as much stubbornness as Isaac, when its something that matters.]
We won't need to face them at all if we leave. Do hunters seek out every wolf in the forest? No, they only go after the ones that threaten their lives and livelihoods. If we stay out of their way, don't draw attention to ourselves, they won't keep seeking us out.
[Every thing has its place. Hector doesn't know what remote corner of the world his is hidden in, but he can wander until he finds it. Better to be a hermit than a murderer. There is darkness inside of Hector, but it's not so deeply entrenched as to let him take lives without remorse. He could become that, with practice, and that scares him more than the thought of having to constantly hide himself away from the world.]
There will only be a handful of people that ever accept us, but the rest....we are stronger than them. We can keep out of their reach without turning to violence.
[Violence breeds only more violence, after all. More hunters will come seeking vengeance for the first. They have to break the cycle if they ever want to find peace.]
[A few words is all it takes to stop Isaac cold. He goes raw inside, his heart pounding too hard and too fast as he looks on, Hector keeping on the move.]
No!
[Growling, Isaac manages to overtake him, moving to cut him off in the same way Hector had the other night. He whirls on him, wide-eyed. The thought alone that life could come back full circle after everything he's tried to escape, that Hector would have him keep his head down and be inconspicuous, tears old wounds wide open. A savage pain that makes him want to beat Hector senseless until he remembered where and what he came from. What drove him to Dracula in the first place.
For years, I fled those beasts because I hadn't a choice--! [He snarls, despairing.] For years, I drowned in fear and helplessness, having naught but the belief that, perhaps, if only I prayed hard enough, He would listen, and would grant me protection and refuge. That He would make a place for me!
[He supposes God did, though, in a funny, fucked up sort of way. Showed him the path to a castle full of monsters and washed his hands of him.
Isaac's gaze steels over.]
...But that time has long since passed -- and I will hide in the shadows no longer so that the humans might live more comfortably!
[There needed to be something more to life than just surviving - and then, one day, Hector had shown it was possible. Hector stole his dream and made settling in seem so damn effortless that watching him thrive among humans, loving and being loved, had cut him as deeply as watching him in bed through his scrying ball.
In three short years, Hector had proven there could be hope for anyone. But not for him.]
What I am doing now, this running, is for Julia's sake. [He says through his teeth] But the moment, the very instant we are clear of this mountain pass, I will live and go as I please, and any man wanting my head will meet his death.
[A beat.]
If you love them so very much, then go to them. [Making a sweeping gesture.] Go and mingle with their kind, and leave me be.
[Better for the both of them in the short and long run, taking all the complication out of sharing the same spaces, of not knowing what he wants and what's real and what he's winning and losing by letting Hector tear down his defenses stone by stone.]
God knows you would.
[In some other land, at least, if not this one.
With a sharp twist of his heel, a whirl of his cloak, he turns back towards the path, willing Abel to move in.]
[Hector stops short as Isaac bars his way. At first he’s cold and resolved, but when Isaac starts baring his scars, his expression softens.]
Isaac....
[He doesn’t want to try to reclaim what he had with Rosaly with another. He doesn’t know what the future will look like, but... he’s not ready to abandon Isaac to the darkness. Seeing the brokenness that formed him, he can’t help but want to show Isaac the same kindness Rosaly had shown him.]
You are not helpless anymore...and neither are you alone. We could go together, and what is there to fear with the two of us to face it?
[He will take up the weapon, even if he thinks not to use it, in hopes it will help sooth some of those old wounds. He follows Isaac, not planning to let him go off on his own to take out his frustrations on more hunters.]
[Little by little, Hector talks, chips at him, until something cracks, deep inside.
Not alone.
What it could've meant to know that, have that, when he had needed it most. When riding out the brightest time in Hector's life amid the darkest part of his own, with only himself and his inner demons for company.
He blinks through a stinging blurriness and tosses his head to clear it, angrily pressing onwards.]
There is nothing I fear. [Jutting his jaw.] ...And if it is your desire to tether me now, [his voice is raw, wavering] I am warning you once, and once alone-- [Stopping, he turns to look Hector square in the eye] ...stay out of my way.
[Hector lengthens his stride to keep pace with Isaac. If the forgemaster thinks he'll be put aside by just that, he's underestimating Hector. He feigns confidence as he replies.]
Only once? Good, then I won't have to hear it again.
[He is not exactly in Isaac's way. He's at his side, where for so long, no one has stood.
'Bless you, Rosaly,' he thinks to himself. When he had stood in much the same place as Isaac, broken and alone and convinced that he was unlovable, she had accepted him. When he'd walked away, she had followed, never forcing him, but always offering him a place beside her. He'd slithered out of the darkness and she had been like the sun, at first too bright to look at, but eventually coming to be a source of light and life, vital to him. He had not even realized all she had done for him until now, seeing the lack of it in Isaac.
He can never hope to offer the same gentleness and patience as Rosaly, but even a pale reflection is better than nothing.]
I know a place in the foothills where we can camp for the night. We should be able to reach it before night falls, if we waste no more time.
['So long as you don't fight me on this, Isaac,' he means.]
[For better and for worse - depending on who is asked -, the final leg of their journey down the mountainside is as uneventful as it is long. The way is just rugged enough that slipping into thought could have dangerous consequences, and Isaac is already restless and annoyed without having to worry about watching his step, inevitably pinning that frustration onto Hector as the afternoon wears on. But in the brief moments they stop to sit and drink, he doesn't hold out on what he's been able to gather along the way; pragmatic thinking prevails and Hector is offered a hunk of hastily-seared hare meat with a non-committal grunt, then small handfuls of mushrooms or tart berries, the ones Isaac recognizes as safe.
Hector's navigational sense and familiarity with the finer details of the landscape thankfully see them through. At dark, they reach a quiet clearing nestled among evergreens, where Isaac trudges around on aching legs to help pile dry leaves and twigs together. His boots aren't fit for travel and have chafed the patch of skin above his heels raw, but at rest, he elects to leave them on.
After the day they've had, simply basking in the heat of a humble bonfire and picking at a meal of roasted lizards feels almost indulgent. He doesn't complain, doesn't say much of anything while crunching through charred skin and spitting the many little bones aside.]
[Hector finds himself pleased with the campsite. He stretches a bit of scavenged canvas above a dry patch of earth near their fire. More pine needles are gathered to spread under it to cushion them, with a dead man’s cloak spread over. It’s a humble place to lay their heads, but world better than the night before spent on cold stone.
He too shares what meager supplies he has, offering his canteen to Isaac before he drinks any of it and adding some nuts and an unfortunate squirrel to their meal.
They eat in a silence that isn’t quite companionable, but can’t be said to be hostile. Hector will take that, for now.
He strips off his boots and gives his aching feet a rub as he checks for blisters by the light of the fire. He sighs as he digs his thumbs into the weary soles.]
You’re next. [He tells Isaac. They have to keep moving tomorrow, and that means taking care of themselves tonight. Hector tries not to push too hard, knowing Isaac to be skittish about any order he gives, no matter how well-meaning. His tone, he aims for easy. ‘Of course you will accept this, no question.’]
[He pauses to wipe some hot grease off his lips onto his arm, eying him across the spitting flames. But he gives in without word, unbuckling each boot and shucking them off, half-tempted to pull away from the fire just to dip his feet into the pond behind them. Despite his familiarity making do with what the wilderness provides, he longs for the luxury of a bath, the chance to wash away blood and sweat and dirt, fresh and old, griming his skin. One of the more unusual habits he owed Dracula and the castle for instilling in him. God forbid if he had ever presented himself in the throne room a second time smelling like rank goat.
Crossing his legs, he takes up a stick and stirs the logs some, throwing another look around the clearing. It feels too open to give himself permission to fully relax; no walls to put his back up against. Were there trees of a different sort in their midst, with thicker branches and no needles, he'd consider climbing up and sleeping leaned up against the trunk, readily trading comfort for a sense of safety and a decent vantage point.]
I do hope you are prepared for the morrow. [He husks, as if Hector spent most of the trip lagging behind. And because he didn't, it's nothing more than some half-hearted attempt to make conversation.]
Mmmmmh. [Hector hums noncommittally as he moves to sit near Isaac’s feet. He draws the first one up onto his thigh and begins to rub the sole. The initial pass is to examine and find the tender places for his fairy to patch up. Once the chafed skin is healed and whole, he presses his thumbs in deeper to massage the muscles.
He’ll wash up in the morning before they leave here, when having wet skin and wet hair will not doom him to a cold night. It might even feel nice despite the cool weather, depending on how grueling a pace they set tomorrow.]
Have you decided where you will go?
[He keeps his eyes downward, focused on the pale foot in his hands, purposely casual and non-threatening. It’s a tenuous alliance, and Hector has to be careful with how he proceeds.]
I know of some islands to the south. Warm clime, secluded, where people look to their own affairs, not to anyone else’s.
[He releases the first foot and draws up the second to repeat his ministrations.]
[The second Hector's hands land, gently manipulating skin and muscle, he questions why he agreed to this. To be fair, it's not unpleasant: the kneading and pressure are well-tolerated, a good sort of tingly soreness; but it's the ease with which Hector persists in helping unasked that's a hard thing to wrap his head around. A muscle flexes in his cheek, but he doesn't yank his foot away. Or offer it, either.]
You'd have made a passable servant in the castle, with your pretty mouth alone. [He muses, pointedly ignoring the question.] I have a little itch.
[It's his way of feeling out where Hector's boundaries lie while wondering what he gets out of this at all, what his angle is. There has to be something, his cynicism reminds him, or he wouldn't be so willing. If Hector looks like he's taken the hint and is moving to service him, he'll offer a stern, quiet 'no' and turn his hand or his face away in refusal, whichever is closest.]
I've heard rumours of new lands far to the West, over the water.
[Isaac says, eventually, not sounding particularly committed as he's never given the specifics serious thought. What other places may hold for him won't be much better, if at all, he suspects. But he'll settle for different, whatever that might look like. A new world and all its trappings, all its pleasures and disappointments.]
[He raises his head and arches an eyebrow at Isaac. Trying to build this alliance does not mean the death of his sass.]
I would have made a very poor servant, for by your word, you would have killed anyone I served.
[He does not give in to the goading, though, if he is honest with himself, he would not be opposed to taking Isaac's cock in his mouth again, or feeling Isaac's fingers grasp tight in his hair and forcing Hector's mouth around his cock. His own perversions, he will have to put aside. If he is to have any hope of getting through to Isaac, he can only reach out with gentle, innocent touches. For anything more, he must be still, and let Isaac come to him, if he wills it.]
It would be a long way by boat to reach those lands. Have you sailed on the open ocean before?
[He finishes with the massage and stops himself before he's tempted to move from weary feet to shapely ankles, where he could trace inked lines further up where they disappear into tight leather. He leans back on his hands.]
[Isaac stares into the flames, light and shadow dancing across his face.]
I was never so fortunate as to have the means.
[All his life experience is based on land, with many of his years spent in a small house tucked in the woods not far from Cordova, when it was thrived, once upon a time; The rest was in and around the castle, where what he knows of sea travel was gleaned from many maps and books in the library. He's aware that for everything he has learned as an alchemist and a general, a survivalist and weaponsmith, there are many gaps in his knowledge, so much of the world and its workings left untouched and untasted.
Maybe in a different life, a different time, he and Julia could've sought their luck out on the open water, stailing from island to island in search of home - a real home.
He snorts wryly, drifting back to reality.]
'twas not until my eleventh year when I had even set foot in a town, never mind a boat. [He can still remember what it was like, keeping to the shadows, queasy with fear and excitement.]
...And then I had only a good look about for a night or two, before my curiosity was met with swift punishment.
[Each glimpse Isaac offers of his past makes Hector ache. It's a light shone on darkness that helps explain some of the shadows he casts. He dares not delve further for fear of unveiling truths that Isaac would rather keep hidden.]
My father studied alchemy, and he dragged my mother and I along behind him as he traveled to learn more. I hated the towns. The children threw rocks at me, and the old women crossed themselves when I passed by.
[They'd recognized an otherness in him and rejected it instinctively. Hector drudges up the old memories, not to compare with Isaac's, but to meet his honesty and the vulnerability that comes of it with the same.]
We did take a boat a time or two before we...parted ways. I remember enough of it. I should be able to prepare us for the journey, if you wish to take it.
[To fully cross the sea, they will need to book passage on a vessel, but to see them a shorter distance, he thinks he could manage.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I could show you how it could be. [He says into Isaac’s ear, an offer likely doomed for failure.
Isaac's retreat hurts, even though Hector should have known better than to make such an advance.
The closeness, the warmth, Hector refuses to surrender. That, at least, they can grant one another. As Isaac had done a moment before, Hector twines his arms around his body and fits them together, front to back. His hand finds a more innocent purchase than Isaac’s had, settling on the hard plane of Isaac’s chest, feeling for the beat of his heart.]
no subject
This is how it starts, a little voice tells him.
Taking his eyes off Hector, turning his back. Doomed by a split second's carelessness.
He should've left Hector to sleep, should've made his own mind and left before dawn, alone. But life is full of missteps and mistakes, some more dangerous than others. Should've been stronger, fought harder.
Should've known better.
Despite how careful Hector's movements are - and maybe because they are, too, his mind given more time to tailspin over all the terrible possibilities he can think of - he feels himself flinch and go numb, paralyzed in the way he hasn't experienced since he was still a boy. It's the closest he's let anyone approach him from behind in just as long; the ones he let was because he had to, when he still occupied the lowest rungs of the castle hierarchy and he learned there was safety in keeping his head down and swallowing his rage, his pride, than in rising to a challenge he couldn't hope to beat. The only reason he thinks he hasn't driven his elbow back and into Hector, struggling away from him, is because he still can't, trapped by his own body. But it's more complicated than that. His muscles twitch with everything they can't unlearn, his heartbeat racing under Hector's hand. Would that Hector could reach inside him and tear it out, not to keep for himself but to get rid of it for good.]
Don't. [Is all he can get out through his teeth, and his voice sounds thick and shaky and wrong. Almost unrecognizable but for the anger in it. ]
no subject
Shhhh. [He soothes, the way he used to do for wild animals whose wounds he wanted to draw near to heal. No more kisses, that’s fine. He won’t press further. It was a long shot anyways.]
We’re just sleeping. You can hold me if you’d rather, but neither of us need to freeze this night.
[He doesn’t have the energy to fight any more than that, and he shifts against Isaac as gently as he can, trying to find the least uncomfortable position to doze. If Isaac breaks away from him, they will both be enduring a miserable few hours until they leave the cave
In the morning, Hector will puzzle over Isaac, can make a plan to slowly acclimate him to kindness... but tonight, both his body and mind have reached their limits.]
no subject
[Isaac hisses, still so wired and helpless but to wait for the shock to ease off, wait for the moment the past lets go and he can breathe, really breathe, again.
Through the half-panic whirling through him, he does realize that Hector hasn't really moved, his hand at rest, making no demands of him. Hector never was a conqueror. But what Hector is in this moment, curved into his trembling back, quiet and warm and shushing him, is beyond him. The part of Isaac that isn't caught between bristling and wanting to jump out of his own skin would laugh a sick, sad laugh. If only he could.
Come morning, when the harsh light of day would touch down and lay their choices bare, he's sure Hector will remember Rosaly and his betrayal in fraternizing with the enemy, and in silence they'd work to forget that Hector ever dared to lay a kiss on his lips and make him feel like there was one thing still right with the world, at least for a little while.
They're both mistakes, and history would suggest that two wrongs never make a right.
But for now, for now, they're just sleeping.
And eventually, broken and folding under the strain of being on edge for so long, Isaac fades, fades, his body finally softening into Hector's chest.]
no subject
Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]
no subject
Isaac's body gives a little jerk when he wakes, staring at the same wall he fell asleep to. It's a lighter shade of gray now, like Abel's scuted hide; outside, day is breaking, but it seems neither of them are in any great hurry. He lies very still under the tingling touch to the back of his head, lies like he used to, breath bitten back and a dagger in his hand, only feigning sleep - to the shifting of fabric and flesh, his skin prickling. Hector doesn't touch him again. Instead, he feels magic wash over him, cool and calming, a leeching of pain from his muscles. The tension knotting them, however, is there to stay.
To Hector, he says nothing. But he climbs to his feet with hollow-eyed determination, not looking his way, and in a single movement answers several questions. It takes a moment for the dizziness to pass from swinging up off the ground, though when his vision steadies and the fog in his head thins, the only thing that feels real, that assures him he isn't sleeping still, is the brisk morning chill and the heaviness in his bladder. When he pisses off to the side, he neither turns away nor makes a show of it, finishing with a shake and tucking himself away before he moves to gather his weapons. He glances to the cave entrance where Hector and his fairy happen to be waiting. He'll meet his gaze sternly, with shoulders squared, fingers squeezing and unsqueezing around the hilt of his sword.
Abel rejoins him.]
Do you sense them near? [He'll duck out, squinting, into the pale, silvery light before waiting too long for an answer, meaning to get a read on their immediate surroundings himself.]
no subject
They're getting closer. We should go now if we want to stay ahead of them.
[He still hopes, naively, to lead them away and part without any more bloodshed. If not for Julia's presence on the mountain, he would swear that he would do them no harm; since her safety is on the line, though, he will do whatever is necessary.
Isaac is already moving, never one to slow himself down for anyone else's sake. All Hector can do is follow, keeping low and watching his step to make sure he doesn't make any noise to alert the approaching hunters.]
no subject
It's like old times, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy with Hector at his side -- and if there's anything of Hector he feels he can trust, it's his ability to hold his own. Isaac spares only a quick glance his way until the last man has fallen - an amateur sorcerer who can't outrun his dagger - and the world around them is still again. Sunlight is just slanting through a bank of clouds, trees stirring softly. Life goes on without missing a beat, just like it always does. And the cycle of blood for blood goes unbroken.
Huffing, Isaac shoves his heel down over the corpse and bends to jerk his red, dripping knife from its back, giving it a shake before sheathing it at his boot. He finds a cross glinting in the grass on the way back and sneers at its uselessness. Not the first time the Good Lord had failed the faithful - and far from the last, he muses.]
...'twas child's play.
[Sweat gleams at his forehead and the hollow of his throat, but he looks galvanized, hard from the rush of blood and magic and restless for a challenge.]
no subject
When the fight is won, however, and he's left holding a mace bloodied with the pulp from inside of an unfortunate hunter's cracked skull, everything comes rushing back. There is no elation like there was in fighting Isaac. He struggles to keep from vomiting.
The makeshift weapon drops from his hand and he doesn't pick it up. He takes a shaky step toward Isaac. Wild, feral, victorious Isaac, who is taunting the fallen men with no concern for the lives that had been ended.]
They didn't hurt you? [The only way through this is to compartmentalize. Focus on his ally, and leave thoughts of the enemies until he can process them. Hector can make sure Isaac is unharmed. He can do nothing more to or for the men on the ground before them.]
We should keep moving. [The sick scent of blood and death, which he'd been so accustomed to in the past, is striking him anew and turning his stomach. 'Julia is safe. Isaac is safe. We did what we had to to make that so.' If he keeps telling himself that, he can force himself to keep going, and forcibly turn his thoughts away from whether these men had familes.]
no subject
So he kills, and he laughs.
Whether Julia had ever understood that, he doesn't know, and tries not to care. She could do anything she wanted to try and change Wallachia, to heal everything that was wrong with it, he thinks, but she could never change him.
His smirk falters at Hector's unsteady approach, his empty hand. Something stirs inside him, closer to wariness than worry, and he doesn't like it. Hector doesn't seem wounded, but in the same way Hector is wondering about the blood streaking his furred cloak and scant armour plating, he can't be sure. He narrows his eyes, his gaze seeking the fairy before snapping back to Hector's face.]
Then arm yourself. [He says, more a command than anything else.]
no subject
He sees the weapon, and leaves it where it fell. He's broken every resolution he's made in his life, and he may be destined to break this too, but he can't pick up a weapon he knows he'll have to turn against his fellow men again. Demons and creatures, he will fight without question, but this murder, this slaughter...he can't repeat.
The world isn't kind enough to suffer a pacifist to live, and he knows that he'll be forced to kill again one day to defend himself. But right now, today, he can't force himself to take his bloodied mace back up.]
...I don't sense anyone else around. If we go now, we won't have need of it.
[He starts walking out of the corpse-filled copse without waiting for Isaac's answer or his scorn.]
no subject
Hector! [He calls out after him, his mouth shaping his name into a warning, a weapon. But it's no use; Hector's free to safely defy his authority without threat of a higher power for Isaac to report to, and there's no punishment that can stamp out this infuriating reluctance he's seen rise in Hector before. Only death could free him of it, but by then, it'd be far too late.
Hurt and disgust curls in his gut.]
You damned fool!
[The mace goes flying after Hector, narrowly missing him.
Under the curse, Isaac remembers he had said that those who didn't fight didn't deserve to live, and he feels those same words weighing heavy on the tip of his tongue. Only the thought of Julia, it seems, keeps them there.
There'd be other slayers out for their heads - he's sure of it, just as surely as he'd seek to bait them out - and they wouldn't hesitate. Because the world isn't and would never be a place where everyone could live as equals, in peace, would never be safe enough for the hunted to afford to put their conscience, if any, ahead of what Isaac considers good sense.]
Think you this is some jest? That 'tis mercy they will show you should you spare their wretched lives? [A beat.] Will you heal their wounds in hopes that they invite you to their homes for dinner?
[He makes to catch up a in a few short, aggressive strides.]
no subject
We won't need to face them at all if we leave. Do hunters seek out every wolf in the forest? No, they only go after the ones that threaten their lives and livelihoods. If we stay out of their way, don't draw attention to ourselves, they won't keep seeking us out.
[Every thing has its place. Hector doesn't know what remote corner of the world his is hidden in, but he can wander until he finds it. Better to be a hermit than a murderer. There is darkness inside of Hector, but it's not so deeply entrenched as to let him take lives without remorse. He could become that, with practice, and that scares him more than the thought of having to constantly hide himself away from the world.]
There will only be a handful of people that ever accept us, but the rest....we are stronger than them. We can keep out of their reach without turning to violence.
[Violence breeds only more violence, after all. More hunters will come seeking vengeance for the first. They have to break the cycle if they ever want to find peace.]
no subject
No!
[Growling, Isaac manages to overtake him, moving to cut him off in the same way Hector had the other night. He whirls on him, wide-eyed. The thought alone that life could come back full circle after everything he's tried to escape, that Hector would have him keep his head down and be inconspicuous, tears old wounds wide open. A savage pain that makes him want to beat Hector senseless until he remembered where and what he came from. What drove him to Dracula in the first place.
For years, I fled those beasts because I hadn't a choice--! [He snarls, despairing.] For years, I drowned in fear and helplessness, having naught but the belief that, perhaps, if only I prayed hard enough, He would listen, and would grant me protection and refuge. That He would make a place for me!
[He supposes God did, though, in a funny, fucked up sort of way. Showed him the path to a castle full of monsters and washed his hands of him.
Isaac's gaze steels over.]
...But that time has long since passed -- and I will hide in the shadows no longer so that the humans might live more comfortably!
[There needed to be something more to life than just surviving - and then, one day, Hector had shown it was possible. Hector stole his dream and made settling in seem so damn effortless that watching him thrive among humans, loving and being loved, had cut him as deeply as watching him in bed through his scrying ball.
In three short years, Hector had proven there could be hope for anyone. But not for him.]
What I am doing now, this running, is for Julia's sake. [He says through his teeth] But the moment, the very instant we are clear of this mountain pass, I will live and go as I please, and any man wanting my head will meet his death.
[A beat.]
If you love them so very much, then go to them. [Making a sweeping gesture.] Go and mingle with their kind, and leave me be.
[Better for the both of them in the short and long run, taking all the complication out of sharing the same spaces, of not knowing what he wants and what's real and what he's winning and losing by letting Hector tear down his defenses stone by stone.]
God knows you would.
[In some other land, at least, if not this one.
With a sharp twist of his heel, a whirl of his cloak, he turns back towards the path, willing Abel to move in.]
no subject
Isaac....
[He doesn’t want to try to reclaim what he had with Rosaly with another. He doesn’t know what the future will look like, but... he’s not ready to abandon Isaac to the darkness. Seeing the brokenness that formed him, he can’t help but want to show Isaac the same kindness Rosaly had shown him.]
You are not helpless anymore...and neither are you alone. We could go together, and what is there to fear with the two of us to face it?
[He will take up the weapon, even if he thinks not to use it, in hopes it will help sooth some of those old wounds. He follows Isaac, not planning to let him go off on his own to take out his frustrations on more hunters.]
no subject
Not alone.
What it could've meant to know that, have that, when he had needed it most. When riding out the brightest time in Hector's life amid the darkest part of his own, with only himself and his inner demons for company.
He blinks through a stinging blurriness and tosses his head to clear it, angrily pressing onwards.]
There is nothing I fear. [Jutting his jaw.] ...And if it is your desire to tether me now, [his voice is raw, wavering] I am warning you once, and once alone-- [Stopping, he turns to look Hector square in the eye] ...stay out of my way.
no subject
Only once? Good, then I won't have to hear it again.
[He is not exactly in Isaac's way. He's at his side, where for so long, no one has stood.
'Bless you, Rosaly,' he thinks to himself. When he had stood in much the same place as Isaac, broken and alone and convinced that he was unlovable, she had accepted him. When he'd walked away, she had followed, never forcing him, but always offering him a place beside her. He'd slithered out of the darkness and she had been like the sun, at first too bright to look at, but eventually coming to be a source of light and life, vital to him. He had not even realized all she had done for him until now, seeing the lack of it in Isaac.
He can never hope to offer the same gentleness and patience as Rosaly, but even a pale reflection is better than nothing.]
I know a place in the foothills where we can camp for the night. We should be able to reach it before night falls, if we waste no more time.
['So long as you don't fight me on this, Isaac,' he means.]
no subject
Hector's navigational sense and familiarity with the finer details of the landscape thankfully see them through. At dark, they reach a quiet clearing nestled among evergreens, where Isaac trudges around on aching legs to help pile dry leaves and twigs together. His boots aren't fit for travel and have chafed the patch of skin above his heels raw, but at rest, he elects to leave them on.
After the day they've had, simply basking in the heat of a humble bonfire and picking at a meal of roasted lizards feels almost indulgent. He doesn't complain, doesn't say much of anything while crunching through charred skin and spitting the many little bones aside.]
no subject
He too shares what meager supplies he has, offering his canteen to Isaac before he drinks any of it and adding some nuts and an unfortunate squirrel to their meal.
They eat in a silence that isn’t quite companionable, but can’t be said to be hostile. Hector will take that, for now.
He strips off his boots and gives his aching feet a rub as he checks for blisters by the light of the fire. He sighs as he digs his thumbs into the weary soles.]
You’re next. [He tells Isaac. They have to keep moving tomorrow, and that means taking care of themselves tonight. Hector tries not to push too hard, knowing Isaac to be skittish about any order he gives, no matter how well-meaning. His tone, he aims for easy. ‘Of course you will accept this, no question.’]
no subject
Crossing his legs, he takes up a stick and stirs the logs some, throwing another look around the clearing. It feels too open to give himself permission to fully relax; no walls to put his back up against. Were there trees of a different sort in their midst, with thicker branches and no needles, he'd consider climbing up and sleeping leaned up against the trunk, readily trading comfort for a sense of safety and a decent vantage point.]
I do hope you are prepared for the morrow. [He husks, as if Hector spent most of the trip lagging behind. And because he didn't, it's nothing more than some half-hearted attempt to make conversation.]
no subject
He’ll wash up in the morning before they leave here, when having wet skin and wet hair will not doom him to a cold night. It might even feel nice despite the cool weather, depending on how grueling a pace they set tomorrow.]
Have you decided where you will go?
[He keeps his eyes downward, focused on the pale foot in his hands, purposely casual and non-threatening. It’s a tenuous alliance, and Hector has to be careful with how he proceeds.]
I know of some islands to the south. Warm clime, secluded, where people look to their own affairs, not to anyone else’s.
[He releases the first foot and draws up the second to repeat his ministrations.]
no subject
You'd have made a passable servant in the castle, with your pretty mouth alone. [He muses, pointedly ignoring the question.] I have a little itch.
[It's his way of feeling out where Hector's boundaries lie while wondering what he gets out of this at all, what his angle is. There has to be something, his cynicism reminds him, or he wouldn't be so willing. If Hector looks like he's taken the hint and is moving to service him, he'll offer a stern, quiet 'no' and turn his hand or his face away in refusal, whichever is closest.]
I've heard rumours of new lands far to the West, over the water.
[Isaac says, eventually, not sounding particularly committed as he's never given the specifics serious thought. What other places may hold for him won't be much better, if at all, he suspects. But he'll settle for different, whatever that might look like. A new world and all its trappings, all its pleasures and disappointments.]
no subject
I would have made a very poor servant, for by your word, you would have killed anyone I served.
[He does not give in to the goading, though, if he is honest with himself, he would not be opposed to taking Isaac's cock in his mouth again, or feeling Isaac's fingers grasp tight in his hair and forcing Hector's mouth around his cock. His own perversions, he will have to put aside. If he is to have any hope of getting through to Isaac, he can only reach out with gentle, innocent touches. For anything more, he must be still, and let Isaac come to him, if he wills it.]
It would be a long way by boat to reach those lands. Have you sailed on the open ocean before?
[He finishes with the massage and stops himself before he's tempted to move from weary feet to shapely ankles, where he could trace inked lines further up where they disappear into tight leather. He leans back on his hands.]
no subject
I was never so fortunate as to have the means.
[All his life experience is based on land, with many of his years spent in a small house tucked in the woods not far from Cordova, when it was thrived, once upon a time; The rest was in and around the castle, where what he knows of sea travel was gleaned from many maps and books in the library. He's aware that for everything he has learned as an alchemist and a general, a survivalist and weaponsmith, there are many gaps in his knowledge, so much of the world and its workings left untouched and untasted.
Maybe in a different life, a different time, he and Julia could've sought their luck out on the open water, stailing from island to island in search of home - a real home.
He snorts wryly, drifting back to reality.]
'twas not until my eleventh year when I had even set foot in a town, never mind a boat. [He can still remember what it was like, keeping to the shadows, queasy with fear and excitement.]
...And then I had only a good look about for a night or two, before my curiosity was met with swift punishment.
no subject
My father studied alchemy, and he dragged my mother and I along behind him as he traveled to learn more. I hated the towns. The children threw rocks at me, and the old women crossed themselves when I passed by.
[They'd recognized an otherness in him and rejected it instinctively. Hector drudges up the old memories, not to compare with Isaac's, but to meet his honesty and the vulnerability that comes of it with the same.]
We did take a boat a time or two before we...parted ways. I remember enough of it. I should be able to prepare us for the journey, if you wish to take it.
[To fully cross the sea, they will need to book passage on a vessel, but to see them a shorter distance, he thinks he could manage.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
learn how to teleport, hector, GOSH
Only with chairs so it doesn't break the game, sheesh
FINE
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
The morning sun has vanquished the horrible night
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
hector and isaac then start a food-reviewing youtube channel
Bone Appetit, They'll review food that's to die for.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
asshole is an asshole, more news at 11
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
crimson's deadly absorb is and will always be a lousy skill /huff
np, hec is here with tiramisu for two
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
guess who is being a stubborn shit
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
full blown lost it
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
if this doesn't work for any reason, I'm happy to change it, just lemme know
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
And what gets high... must come down. Something like that.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
imma fudge some travel times here so Isaac doesn't have to wait around for days
LOL fucking pumpkin
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no real kids for them is probably for the best, lol
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
HOW DARE HECTOR HAVE NEEDS OF HIS OWN
HE’S NOT SAYING IT SHOULD totally absolutely BE HIM
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...