amicustenebris | Duplicity

006-B.

[ It takes a while for him to make his way down there, but he does eventually arrive. He speaks over the device before knocking. ]

I'm here.

[ It's only by the mercy of God that his roommate is out right now, otherwise this would be a whole other thing instead of just humiliating and - underneath the seething rage - terrifying. He woke up seeing nothing but shadows and things have only gone downhill since.

There's broken glass all over the kitchen. Furniture knocked over. Nothing that happened here today was graceful.

Carver opens the door without a word, looking nothing but coldly furious. One hand at the knife at his side, the other braced firmly against the wall. His eyes don't track at all. No part of him wants to endure this around other people. ]

I can't see.

[ He twitches, then steps back to let Gold in. One hand braced against the wall. ]

[ Gold ignores any looks he gets coming in; he doesn't know how often doms come here from the Up, but the place clearly wasn't made to accommodate extra guests like his is.

More that's put in place to give people with lines on their necks the illusion that they need to give over authority to have more simple, daily things.

Like privacy. ]

...

[ He steps in and is quick to calmly continue to speak, to give him an idea where he is. ]

I can tell you now I do not believe my magic can do anything -- if I had to guess, they did it, which means it should not be permanent -- but if your intention is just to wait it out, this is a bad place to do it.

[ There's nothing about this that isn't hateful. Carver stays where he is, his hand braced against the wall. He's fought blind before - in training, out of necessity a few times - but those moments ended. He got his vision back. Whatever was limiting him faded.

This hasn't. And he feels clumsy, off balance. Horribly exposed.

The fear curls sour in him. If he can't see, his combat effectiveness is shot. And if he can't fight, then what use is he to the others? Nothing but dead weight. They'll leave him behind.

His fingers twitch. Gold keeps talking. Doesn't try to touch him. Probably for the best. ]

I'm not going outside like this.

[ His voice is tight, tension thrumming through him. ]

This is really fucking fun for me.

If your accommodations were not utter dogshit, I would agree with that decision.

[ Short in tone, not willing to brook much disagreement there. ]

I would recommend coming back to the Up with me. You would have space to work on getting around and doing what you need in a safer location, with more privacy and less likelihood of bumping into strangers.

[ Carver makes a strangled noise. Bitter and furious. He's weak now. Horribly exposed. Anyone could come up in his corners and kill him. Anyone at all. ]

You want me out in the open? Fuck that.

[ There are walls here. It's not defensible at all, but there are walls. ]

To get to my apartment? Yes. That's generally how these things work. Do you know how easy it was for me to just walk up here?

[ No part of Carver wants to endure this quietly. He wants to hit something, put his fist through an enemy’s face just to feel the bone give. He’s off balance, weak. It’s not the first time he’s taken an injury that knocked him out of commission, but this happened so suddenly there was no preparing for it. And now he has no brothers or sisters at his side to shoulder the load. To watch his back.

The worst part is that Gold’s right. This location is exposed.

Carver works his jaw. ]

Fine.

[ He hates this. And he hates Gold a little for witnessing it, even though Carver was the one who called him here. ]

[ Nothing that Carver is experiencing is something wholly alien to Gold; the set dressing is just different. So he does not lack empathy for the man, on some level. On the other...Gold is Gold, and he has for a long time had a lot of freedom to pick and choose how much patience he has to allot to other people, for the sake of his own comfort. ]

You said you wanted a favor.

That was when I thought you could fix me.

[ It comes out sharp, angry. Carver digs his nails into the wall, hating how still he’s holding himself.

He grits his teeth. He’s weak. And you can never be weak in front of other people. ]

What?

I told you from the start that my magic was not a guarantee, and you certainly didn't feel like providing any specifics to narrow things down before I came down here.

[ All things considered, he is keeping his tone very even and calm. One of them should be. ]

And I am going to help you. I just can't snap my fingers and make things better, and even if I could, the cost likely would not be worth the product. No sense that you still have would be worth losing in exchange -- that's magic. And if our hosts are responsible, there are some they wouldn't let you trade anyhow. I can reiterate, however, that it is likely temporary. I am offering you a safer place to wait it out. All that I ask in return is that if our situations are ever reversed you be willing to make a similar effort.

[ Carver would shoot Gold a nasty look if his eyes were working. Instead, he ends up glaring at the far wall. This entire situation is hateful.

But Gold has a point, in the end. And the terms are as reasonable as either of them are going to get around here. ]

I can do that.

[ His tone is very even. Not any calmer than before, but less overtly hostile. ]

That all you want for it?

In a place like this and the position you find yourself in, other than an outright get-out-of-jail-free card, what would matter more than safety? [ And someone safe to be around if you HAVE to be around someone? ]

Safety is conditional.

[ Safety is fleeting. The only people that Carver trusts completely are his people and none of them are here.

He exhales through his teeth. Embrace the suck, soldier. Get through this.

Survival is a choice. So, survive. ]

How are we doing this?

I am offering it as a condition because that is what we both seem to be comfortable with. I already told you. Contracts are what I know.

[ A breath through his nose. ]

I am bringing you to my apartment in the Up. Does it concern you that people will see you? Because that is unavoidable; throwing a sheet over you like a bird in a cage is not going to make you feel any better. What I can help is whether people think you are at a disadvantage you cannot control, or something you are choosing to do.

[ None of this is comfortable. But it has to be done, so he’ll survive. It’s just another test.

He snorts. Biting down bitter laughter. ]

Make it look like a sex thing? Cute.

[ But it’s less of a weakness than telegraphing to the whole city that he’s gone magically blind. ]

Let’s do it.

If that is how you choose to interpret it.

[ Gold has established more than once that bedroom things, as far as he is concerned, stay in the bedroom. ]

Do you have anything you wish to bring with you?

It’s all sex and control, Gold.

[ Just the reality. They all have to maneuver within it.

Carver exhales through his teeth. ]

No.

[ He sleeps with his weapons on him, when he sleeps at all, and there’s nothing else he cares to bring with. The mask is hidden; it serves no purpose out in the open. ]

[ He is not going to argue with him right now; there is no point. He removes a handkerchief from his pocket, and there is a sound like tinkling metal as he coaxes the bolt of silk into something longer and easier to maneuver. ]

I am going to touch you.

[ So that he doesn't panic. ]

[ Carver cocks his head like a dog, listening intently. He knows - mostly - where Gold is. That doesn't translate to a full tactical picture. There are gaps. That's going to matter if it swings violent, and it always swings violent by the end.

Still: ]

I won't flinch.

Good.

[ He comes around to bring the length of cloth over his eyes. It's carefully folded, pulled taut enough to be secure but not uncomfortably so. It'll look like he's completing some king of exercise. The both of them, really.

But maybe it'll make Carver feel better. Convince himself it is just the blindfold. Cement that it's temporary. ]

I am going to walk ahead of you. Keep a hand on my shoulder, and I will tell you when the terrain is changing.

[ True to his word, Carver doesn't flinch or lash out. He can hear Gold's footsteps, his words. It's telegraphed enough to pass muster. But the way that Carver goes utterly - perfectly - still is probably telling on its own.

The blindfold isn't painful. It's just there. Like this is a choice they made. Like the razor.

He takes a breath. Lets it go with a hiss. ]

Okay.

[ Gingerly, he reaches out and curls his hand around Gold's shoulder. ]

[ Gold similarly takes a moment to muster himself, covering Carver's hand with his own to keep it there while he turns around to lead him out. He remembers his way out well enough, and if he doesn't verbally tell the other man they're turning, his hand comes back as something of a signal. It makes it easier to feel which way he's turning. ]

[ This part, at least, is familiar. He’s done trust exercises before. Run drills under varied conditions, including with limited sight. He’s been hit with tear gas before. Flashbangs. Gotten blood in his eyes. Sometimes, you just have to trust the person leading you.

Carver exhales through his teeth, but he doesn’t fight it. He moves where Gold leads him. ]

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