amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ There's entirely too much soap, nearly all of it scented and worth more money than Carver's seen in a long time. The sort of luxury that would have been unthinkable once, before he started moving up in the world, and that was suddenly ripped away along with everything else after the fall. He distrusts it in the aftermath, sensing a trap. A means to lure him into a false sense of security - dangerous, even if it's not a trick that Gold's playing on him so much as this place.

He showers, in the meantime. Even uses conditioner on his hair, picking the least offensive-smelling one and just going for it.

It's nice, he thinks absently. The heat of the water, the way it scrubs the grime away. The way he feels in the aftermath. And how the exhaustion starts hitting him now that the adrenaline and endorphins aren't rushing through him anymore. He doesn't sleep much these days. Can't manage more than a few hours in a single go.

There's a cost, eventually. But he comes out in due time, won't use all of Gold's hot water, and leans against the wall. Watching for a moment, his hair loose and damp, as Gold finishes cleaning up in the kitchen. ]

You wanna do this again, let me know. I don't like cooking in the Down. The food's shit and nobody will sell anything to me.

[ Whether Carver's presence truly startles him or not, one couldn't say for sure, but he certainly looks up at the sound of his voice like he was.

It would be so easy to offer, he realizes.

But he recovers a little, the ghost of a smile appearing has he hangs a washcloth to dry. ]

...I would certainly not be opposed.

[ Glance. ]

But I'm a lot more interested in knowing what you want.

[ Hmm. So they're talking about this now. Carver shrugs, spreading his hands out. A deceptively casual gesture. Maybe one that Gold won't buy, given everything they know about each other now and all the things they've done within these walls, but habits are habits. ]

I want back with my people.

[ Simple to say. Harder to do. ]

I want a place for them to be safe, where they won't starve to death or get torn to pieces in the middle of the night. I want a place where we can remember our dead without joining them before God calls us back. Either way, I want them back. Maybe they show up and we build that here. Maybe I find a way back to them. Doesn't matter. Right here, right now?

[ He shrugs again. Watching Gold like a hawk. ]

Haven't decided. Maybe we fuck, maybe you let me crash on the floor for a while so I can ignore my annoying ass roommate. I don't care. What'd you want, Gold?

[ I want back with my people. He didn't have people so much anymore. Just her. He wanted her safe, far away from anything like this. He tired of chains. He wanted to be free, where his hand couldn't be forced.

He wanted to see where his son had been buried.

But right here? Right now? ]

...I had meant in the more immediate sense.

[ But it sent a message, to jump right to the idea of arrangements. He didn't have a lot of the things many others here could offer: he was no paragon of beauty, or desire. But he has the luxuries that most dominants are just handed when they get here. He also has his magic.

That's always been enough.

A bit of that caught him, though. His brow furrows. ]

...And I have a second bed, you know.

[ Carver snorts at that. He's used to sleeping on the ground. It's more familiar, in many ways. ]

You got a habit of not answering questions, Gold. What'd you want?

And I have told you before that what I want here matters far less.

[ Because this place treats it as though he matters more. He has had the chance in the past to have that kind of power over another person, and he has always been very careful not to let himself go in that direction. It has always been key to be sure no one is with him because they feel required. ]

We're gonna go in circles if you keep doing that, [ Carver points out blandly. They aren't enemies yet. They haven't done any damage to each other. There were, maybe, some moments that bordered trust.

And now here they stand. Staring at each other. ]

Humor me. What do you want?

[ He swallows. ]

To be with someone that I want, and who wants me for more than just what I can provide for them. And if I can't have that, it's fine -- after a while this place won't care to give me the choice to wait for it. But I'd sooner know that up front.

[ There's a sense that they're both treading too honest here, touching things that might as well be secrets. What business did Carver have remembering the dead girl's name? She was no one, just another body left in the ashes. And what business did Gold have, treating this thing with care?

Yet here they are.

Carver tips his head back. ]

You're not one of my people.

[ One day, that's going to make it very simple. ]

But you didn't fuck me up when you could have. That's worth something.

[ There's something there, then. Maybe that stung a little, even if it wasn't fully understood. ]

I'm not trying to take anyone's place. And believe me there are people that I want to go home to, as well. But I also know that for as long as I am here, until I can get home, they want me to have people. At least a person. And everyone that resists that, they will just punish more.

[ It's a practical thing. There are rules to this place. Defiance has a price, one that Carver's not willing to pay just yet. If they don't hit quota, they get fucked up. If they don't get contracts, they get fucked up. It's all control measures, humiliation, pain in certain and specific ways. Some avoidable. Some not.

Carver nods slowly, eyes never leaving Gold. ]

My people come first. Always.

[ That needs to be understood. ]

But you want me sometimes, in some ways, I can work with that.

You are going home to your people someday. I am going back to mine.

[ His tone is even and careful, there. ]

The same should be assumed for everyone here. Never under any circumstances will I require you or anyone else to forsake that.

[ He nods just once. ]

Good.

[ Just so long as that's clear. Carver leans back against the wall, watching Gold. ]

I liked cooking for you. Liked what we did after, too.

[ Another subtle bloom of red in his face, and he glances away. ]

Y-yes. Likewise. Moreso than expected, really.

[ The blush is unexpected. But still - nice, Carver thinks. He doesn't comment, in case that makes Gold lock it down. But he watches, and he nods, and some of the tension bleeds out. ]

I got that feeling.

[ No judgement. Just is what it is. ]

You wanna go again? I can go again. If not, I'm gonna try and sleep, since you offered. Might even happen.

...Do you want to?

[ He sounds a little less certain of that, but that has been what he has been trying to ask since this conversation started. He doesn't need to know if he can. Obviously they can do what they must in this place. He just wants to know this -- he -- is more than just a take or leave situation, here. ]

Wouldn't offer if I didn't. Not my style.

[ He is, despite everything, an honest man. ]

But I don't force people. Not with this.

Neither do I, and you would not still be here if I believed you were trying to.

[ A frown. His misgivings are his own; he knows where he is in his head. But in spite of that, for the moment? Being alone feels like the last thing he wants right now, and that is strange for him. ]

[ Carver just shrugs. He can lie - and does, from time to time when it suits him - but right now it doesn’t, so he tells the truth as blunt and plain as it comes to him.

It keeps the world simple. ]

Just is what it is. You want to go again, I’m down with that. If not, no skin off my back. So.

[ He cants his head. He wonders if he’ll be able to sleep in this place. Maybe, maybe not. ]

What’d you want, Gold?

As much as we've discussed it, tonight's probably the least I've thought about being where we are, since I arrived. I think I'd like to go on not thinking about that for a while.

[ Because whether it was intended that way or not, Gold isn't going to get explicit if nobody else is. Not like that's an easy thing to get him to do anyway. ]

Okay.

[ Carver just nods once, accepting it. He watches Gold for a moment. ]

I’m gonna try sleeping for a while, then.

[ He had started to lift his hand, either to offer it or to wave the way back toward the room, and he freezes mind-motion, then lowers it back to his side. ]

...Of course.

[ He gestures back the way they had come in. ]

Last door on your left.

[ Hmm. Carver notes the gesture, and all the things it might or might not say. Something to think about later. He doesn’t dig into it.

Might, one day. But right now he’s tired and had enough of an endorphin rush - the thrill of it since faded - that he might actually be able to manage some sleep. Maybe not for long, but an hour or two - that’d be nice.

Might even happen.

Carver gives Gold one last nod and then turns, heading back. He doesn’t take his boots or any of his layers off once he’s inside, and keeps a knife close at hand.

Old habit at this point, written all the way down in his DNA. Some things you just don’t shake. He curls onto his side, and he faces the door, and he closes his eyes.

Maybe he’ll manage a few hours. Wouldn’t that be something? ]

[ Whatever Gold's misgivings, after cleaning up a little himself, he plants himself in the living room area that's under all the windows and skylight -- all less oppressive to him when there's stars above and not the sun. By the light of a lamp, he quietly sees to some sewing. Fabric isn't hard to come by and he only needs simple materials to make the clothing he prefers to wear, and it's something simple but time-consuming to dive into when he has no desire to sleep -- and he isn't much of a channel surfer.

Sleep isn't really something he needs unless he overdoes it in the magic department; like eating, it is something he might do because he wishes to. ]

[ There aren’t any dreams - or at least none that Carver can remember - but he snaps awake before long, tense and aware, adrenaline flooding his system - proof enough of a nightmare, or some unconscious tick, some threat or another, that jolted him back to the moment. There’s nothing, though. Just the room and it’s four walls and - presumably - Gold somewhere out there. Doing whatever it is he does at this hour.

Carver drags a hand through his hair, feeling nothing but empty. He doesn’t like the size of the room, how things loom in the shadows. Instinct says threats are hiding there, that he needs to control his environment and shut that down. Eliminate any hiding places that could be used against him.

Sometimes he just can’t sleep. Sometimes he crams himself into closets or underneath beds because that’s simpler, easier to control, but there are things you just don’t do around other people.

That’s one of them.

He lies on his side for a while, blade in hand. Trying to control his breathing, to settle. It doesn’t work.

Great. He gets up without a word, cat-quiet, and decides he’ll just leave. Go wander out in the dark for a while. But of course Gold’s still up, because fuck Carver and his perfectly reasonable desire to bolt before he starts pacing like a dog in a too-small cage, and - sewing, it looks like.

Huh.

Carver stills. It’s late. And he is so fucking tired. ]

Can’t sleep, huh. Guess it’s going around.

Duplicity - IC Inbox

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