PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[maskarang]

[ ... ah. he can't say he's glad, exactly (but he is thankful for the distraction. it may even show in the way he very marginally relaxes), but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel some relief hearing it wasn't anyone from their timeline.

he meets owain's gaze as steadily as he can. ] ... A speech. [ he repeats this curiously as he ponders what it means. owain's speeches are—well, they're obviously a mix of tall tales, pride, heroic rhetoric, and entertainment, but... he hasn't ever really considered them at length before. or, truth be told, considered them capable of convincing other people to act.

he may not fully understand, but it's clear owain is ashamed of himself. upset, too. enough to bawl when not even a near-death experience had phased him. uh, like this, at least. ] And that's why you think you're a monster?

[swordhandled]

I knew they were going to die, either from the creature that was being contained, or from the attack the Foundation was mounting to destroy. They were a distraction, a sacrificial force so the Foundation can carry out their attack.

[ a longer pause, and in the barest of whispers: ] One of them looked like Mother.

[maskarang]

[ he hears the whisper, though he nearly misses it. his eyes immediately narrow. ] Hmph. They play a twisted game.

[ a proxy for a mother and his true mother used as pawns. and for what end? perhaps a bit too roughly, he reaches for owain and grasps his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. ]

Listen closely: you and I have both seen a monster. A true one who took nothing but pleasure in inflicting pain and suffering on others. Make no mistake—what you did is not the same. You are not a monster. You were forced to pervert something you hold dear—and made to do it in the presence of a proxy.

[swordhandled]

--Her screams, Gerome. Her screams... I can still hear them. [ but he's nodding his head slowly at that ]

[maskarang]

... I know. [ with just a few words, owain's dispersed most of his anger. this time, his voice is soft when he speaks. he knows well owain wouldn't forget the sound. and even he—

he shakes his head slowly before dropping his hand from owain's face. gently, he begins trying to coax owain back into a close embrace. ] Come. I cannot help you forget, but I can at least hold you until you're ready to face the day. ...Tonight, tomorrow, and every night after.

[swordhandled]

[ he gently lets himself be coaxed, still being careful with gerome's injuries. ] You do so much for me.

[maskarang]

[ tiredly, he leans against owain as much as he can. the contact eases his mind more than he wishes to openly admit. ] You do just as much.

[swordhandled]

[ a small huff of laughter ] It never seems enough.

[maskarang]

Only because you would dote on me endlessly if I allowed it.

[swordhandled]

You deserve it.

[maskarang]

Hmph. No more so than you.

[swordhandled]

Moreso than me.

[maskarang]

How anyone could utter such a ridiculous sentence is beyond me. A face so cute deserves nothing but relentless, unending care and affection.

[swordhandled]

And a face so handsome deserves every good thing that his fiance can provide to him.

[maskarang]

... You provide plenty already. [ leaning in real close so their foreheads touch ] I appreciate all you do, from the way you care so dutifully for Minerva to the silly scribbles lining your notebook.

[ yeah he saw them, what of it ]

[swordhandled]

There's mo-- [ wait ] You saw that?!

[maskarang]

I did. Such sweet words from you would never escape my notice, even if you hide them near the back cover. [ don't mind him as he gives owain a light kiss ]

[swordhandled]

I hoped you wou-- [ oh. a kiss. a kiss is sufficiently distracting enough that owain doesn't even remember the mention of back cover ]

[maskarang]

[ around this point, he'd typically climb onto owain and keep going (much to minerva's chagrin) until they need to make a hurried exit to owain's room but, well. he's not quite up to the task just now. and some soft kissing while lying together sounds better than that anyway. ]

[swordhandled]

[ it's very soft. owain is still very needy, so he's going to gently cradle gerome's face as he kisses him back ]

[maskarang]

[ that makes two of them. it would be a lie to say he's all right, and he fears that if he doesn't find a way to curb his sorrow he'll wind up weeping for his mother a third time (and he knows it must be a third time, even without any memories of the act). holding owain, kissing him, it's ultimately all his own selfish need for comfort.

thankfully, it's a mutually fulfilling comfort, too. ]

[swordhandled]

[ mutually beneficial comfort, but owain knows gerome and can feel the neediness from his end at this point, so he's providing it to him. ]

[maskarang]

[ give him an inch and he takes—an inch. literally, as now he's flush against owain. somewhere nearby, minerva exhales and hops off the bed to go hang out with deirdre on the unicorn couch. because they probably brought it for her to nap on. ]

[swordhandled]

[ sorry not sorry minerva, but you knew that this was going to happen. carefully throwing his arm around gerome as he keeps the kissing going. ]

[maskarang]

[ she absolutely did, there's no way this is their first spontaneous morning make-out. it is, however, an immensely satisfying one. and if limbs are getting involved now? well, all the better. don't mind him as he slides one hand under owain's shoulder and into his hair, toying with the ends ]