He is reading a book, bathed in golden light, the hue of a lamp set off into the corner. Layers of cocoa, crimson, the golden scarf, with the book, fashion the look of a European student. The shirt has been unbuttoned, layers of fabric falling away from the skin to show the citrine sparkle of the gemmed chain he wears at his torso, as if he had started to undress but in distraction of study merely turned another page.
     Around him, all the signs of his return from the forest. Pine needles on the carpet, an errant leaf brushed from his hair to rest on the table. A decanter of brandy, light and golden (it smells of apples -- it must be of Normandy), rests upon the damask runner that protects the wood of the reading table. His wide-bowled glass is nearly empty, and there is, along with some flavor of the outdoors, the smell of a cigarette had some time in the past half hour.
     The book is a book of language and verse. The Langue d'Oc and the Langue d'Oeil. What was spoken in the south (and central) and what was spoken in the Ille de Paris. The verse are snippets from the 12th through the 14th century, the verse of the Gascon poets of tragic love.
     Curled up in the comfortable chair, a chair big enough for two men, Valan Montague reads quietly and drinks. The glass is lifted by one hand as a page is turned with his other...

     He had not expected to find someone so immediately. Edward let himself into the room quietly, back to the room as he closed the door. Only when he turned about, standing upright, that he sees his other half is present.
     "Oh, ami," Edward smiles, surprise evident. He grins as he strides over, putting hand on the arm of the chair and at the back before leaning in for a kiss.

     His hand goes to your face, fingertips there pressing, cradling the line of your jaw as his mouth brushes you, parts for you, and you receive the brandied greeting. Yes, the brandy is from the golden apples of Normandy. Sweet-backed fire. Much like the kiss, really.
     Valan smiles, a chuckling sound in his throat as he parts the kiss, lowers his hand and leans back into the chair to receive whatever else you're going to bring his way. "I was wondering when I would see ami. Did you go riding with William? I visited with Ian in the forest for a while. You know, I would believe it is haunted. That, or there is just a lot of good hunting game...so..." he exhales, setting the book aside for now, lain flat to save his place for later. "...How are you?" he wonders.
     You see him note your grin, and he smiles in echo to it. And then to the rest of you. And what do you see? An exquisitely presented young man and sparkling gems at his navel.

     "Perfect?" Edward questions, letting you see it openly. He looks down to the sparkles below, then looks to the ones he expects at your throat. He sighs and nods, "I am good," as if answering his question.
     "Here," Edward whispers, standing up and sliding out of his shoes. He taps you, expecting a move, a sit from him, then a resettlement of you upon his lap. The shoes are discarded as he goes on, "I didn't go riding with William, no. I..." he slows, "...we should talk, ami. Really, talk. And you should ask me questions, you deserve that. I think...sometimes I do not encourage you...to ask or demand of me. That is...not how it should be."

     He rises easily, with the grace befitting one of your kind, with as much artfulness than most of the Rose can claim, and he slips out of his shoes as he stands, waiting for you to take a seat. Talk. You see it cross his features. Then, curiously, he tips his head back to watch you sit, to wait for the sign for him to follow. "Okay," he says in English, speaking their language as long as he is on the island. "I do not know what I should ask..." A pause and he smirks. "I will not be so blonde," he notes. "I should say, I'm not sure where to begin. What would you like to discuss? There," Valan smiles, "...that is a good beginning. The beginning..."
     While you get settled, he refills the glass. More than he would normally take for himself, for it will be shared between you. Cigarettes and lighter are likewise removed and set upon the table within reach. The jacket, not the shirt or the scarf, is removed and lain across the neighboring chair.

     King of all and master of nothing. Edward eases himself into the seat, settling in comfortably. "I don't know," Edward confesses with a smile. "I have...taken you across half of Europe, ami. And you have done it. I guess...I want to know what...it is you want. From us. From me?"

     Valan settles upon your lap, though there is room for him to sit mostly beside you. He will not waste such an opportunity to lounge on you. He sips at the brandy and then offers you the glass, his gold-green eyes on your own. "For us," Valan speaks, "... I want us to have a good partnership. We are friends. We are lovers. I think we do this well. I would like to see us rely on one another. Without smothering," he adds. "I do not want to ...well, I will not lie," he grins, "...the idea of chaining you to the bed is entertaining, but I mean that metaphorically. Literally, mais oui, ami... but not metaphorically. To talk specifics is hard. I think we have had few struggles as we've negotiated something very new. I would like us to ...continue to move forward in concert. To support one another and to make sure that in our efforts to be liberated we do not neglect one another...."
     "From you," Valan smiles, "I want you to know that I can be trusted with your heart. I want to see you give yourself more credit. I want you to be happy. And I want you to tell me when you are feeling trapped or smothered, or if you are. You adore me," he grins, "I am very spoiled and loved. I really... have no specific thing to add there. You already fuck me nightly," he chuckles. "Maybe twice nightly, but I don't want to push my luck, ami..."
     Valan takes another sip of brandy and considers you. "I think I would like to stay on the Continent for a time. I want to give Us whatever time we need together to figure out where we want to be.... or if we want to call the Continent Our home. There is no need to rush anything. There is no need to plan anything. We just need to remember to ... experience life. Not to get so caught up in it that it distracts us. It happens so easily in London." He looks at you again, kissing you at the end of his thoughts and now it is his turn: "Is there something that you want from Us... from me? Something I am doing too much or that I could be doing? What is it that you want for yourself?"

     Edward listens, hands resting on thighs he knows so well. "You think," he looks down, "...some of those things are not...as you would like?" Getting caught up in things. Being trusted. It's not quite what he expected. "I guess," Edward smiles nervously, "I shouldn't have asked," if I didn't want to know.
     "Maybe I'm not so ready for this," Edward chuckles to himself. The wind seeps from his sails, and what was a confident greeting's now something else. "We'll go to Fleurlil, and...see." Try to make things better.

     "You think I think it isn't? Non..." Valan sighs. "Our relationship is wonderful. I love you, I love being with you. I don't want to be where you are not. I want you to be happy. I am already happy," he smiles. "Relationships are work, you know? We need to make sure we pay attention to it, that is all I mean, Eduard. There is nothing broken that needs to be fixed..." He leans in and looks at you, seriously. "They are new things for us, you and I. We've talked of this before, yes? And so, all the more reason to make sure we take care of one another. And ourselves. Do not look so crestfallen," he smiles a little and he nudges you. "You look as though I'm getting ready to leave you. Like you've done something wrong..."
     Shaking his head, Valan sips at the brandy. "I say these things not because they are not there or we do not have them. I say them because they are goals to keep one's eyes on. Like in fencing. You have to keep your eyes on your partner's eyes, no matter where your sword is going. Where your eyes lead, your body follows. It is the same, ami... "

     Edward counters with a series of nods, taking in what's said. "I know," he whispers, mustering a smile.
     Maybe he was right the first time. Talking is very overrated. He should stick with what he knows best -- communication through the physical. And almost immediately, beneath downcast eyes, Edward's hands instinctively massage.
     "I wanted...to tell you...if you needed to ask questions about..." all this, "...that I could answer them. I didn't want you to feel," Edward explains, "...left out, you know?"

     "That is what I thought you were going to ask me, but then you asked something else." There is a little smile. "And don't close up on me..." Valan murmurs, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. "Do not punish yourself. I don't like to see that. I want you to tell me, Christophe," he smirks a little, using the formal only when he wants to get your attention, "...that you understand I am not faulting you or Us. Did you hear me? Those were good things I said! Unless, of course, you do not want a partner, a companion who is going to be with you on this road. I do not think about what the road will be, just so you know... I just... walk, ami. I just want to walk with you..."
     Sitting up, his eyes go to your hands. "Where do you go now?" he murmurs. "With your friends. With Davydd. What is going to happen to him? And, ami, are you okay... you seem to be handling it well, but I know that look can sometimes be full of shite..."

     Christophe. Say the name, and he belongs to you.
     Edward's eyes close when foreheads touch. "That's what I want, ami," his language slipping French. He tries not to recede, and finds some success. He exhales, staying in the conversation.
     "I go now, wherever you want," Edward says softly. "Anywhere you want. Davydd..." he shrugs, "...must do what he must do, just as we did. He is...different somehow, ami." And here Edward treads lightly. "I...worry, ami, just...like we just talked about, telling you too much. I don't want you to know if...something happens," his hand waves, "...but we...are together and I want you to understand. William," Edward exhales butterflies away, "...is very angry with him. Me," Edward shrugs, "I am not, strangely. I don't know ami. What's happened...is what's happened. I am alright with what we did and what Davydd may feel about it. Though Davydd did apologize to me for all of this and I am fine with it, ami..."

     There is a smile. That is all I want. It's all I want and it's good enough for me. "Well, I can understand why William would be upset... but, you are right. I think... I think I don't want to know. I don't want that responsibility. And I do not want to be the one at the other end of William's anger. I cannot imagine that it is a good place to be. My concern was mostly for you. You are all grown men, you will handle things and they will be what they will be. But you are my man," Valan smiles gently, closing the distance between you again. He brushes a kiss against your mouth. He cannot help but kiss that mouth. "I hope that friends can still be friends. But if they can't that ...you are alright. That is what concerned me. But, it sounds as if there's nothing to be worried about. It was handled quickly... whatever it was..."
     Valan smiles at that, brilliantly at that. Playing the blonde again. He does it so well. There is only the hint of shadow around his golden features. "I do not understand why it had to be this way. I wish for you all that you can come to some arrangement. We're talking about very old friendships here. Older than most nations on this earth, ami... but... really, all I care about is you, that you are okay. The rest I leave up to others to worry about, ne c'est pas?"
     Now, says the look, I need another kiss. The garnets sparkle at his throat and he smiles as he leans in, brandied mouth moving over yours again. "We will make our own way, you and I," Valan murmurs there. "We will always have each other, I promise you that. You will always have me." That mouth curls a grin at your mouth. "In fact, I want you to have me right now..."

     Christophe grins, the blush giving away his reddening features. "We will make our own way," he whispers, looking for another kiss and finding it. "And I think," despite the meandering conversation, "...I am..." as you put it, "...alright."
     Brows arch. "I suspect, I'll be even better, very soon..."

Posted by rowan at June 21, 2004 06:42 PM