chrisisofaith | IC Contact

[Jon stills, tense with anxiety at that question. He sets the scissors down and returns to stroking Chris' hair.] You work for a vampire. I don't see how you can be terribly high and mighty about that.

[He doesn't respond to Chris' wondering. The siren can wonder all he wants. Unless that becomes an actual question, the Archivist doesn't intend to answer it.]

[He leans into the touch again as best he can and focuses on that instead of the crawl of annoyance Jon's words put in him. Annoyance and grim determination.]

It's not about others being vampires. It's about me being undead. I'm a cleric of the Raven Queen...she would not tolerate an undead cleric and neither could I.

'I never felt unsafe.' Half drowned and used and bitten and scratched...and he hadn't felt unsafe? He hadn't been, not in the Siren's mind, but there was no way Wolfe would know that. And yet he felt it all the same.

Chris' eyes close tight, a swell of love that feels like it burns rising in him. A week ago, that would have made him feel better. Now...now maybe he understands a bit why Jon looks at him like he's grown extra limbs whenever Chris tells him he feels safe. How could you feel safe being so entwined with something that was built to kill and hurt and had done? Exactly how Chris did.

And either he condemned himself to deep, untenable hypocrisy, or he does what he knows he should: trust in his partner and his own limits. His throat feels thick when he opens his eyes again and looks to Wolfe. He does trust him...but still only so far, especially with himself.

"Yes. You and Jon and what I did to Amelia...it's been allowed too much. I can't...I hurt people I love. I can forgive myself many things, but not that. Not even if I'd been entirely out of my own mind. If you can't, that's fine...I don't- that's not part of our relationship, I just..." Selfish. Too selfish. He doesn't need anything. Doesn't need to put any of this back on those he hurt, that doesn't help. He breathes out, sits up straighter, and uncurls his fist as he forces the brewing storm deeper into his gut. "I'll sort it later. Thank you...for talking to me. I hear you that you're not hurt, but If you would let me do something to work towards amends all the same, it would ease a bit of my mind towards that."

Edited 2023-06-23 08:51 (UTC)

[This feels a little bit like Chris' anxiety about coming back from a watery grave. Jon tugs at one of the cleric's golden locks.]

You'll recall we've had this conversation. They Raven Queen isn't Bane. A temporary circumstance you had no control over seems permissible.

[Jon's certain this will be temporary. And if Chris were turned permanently? He's not sure. It seems hard to gauge when the Raven Queen is so distant from him. It might not become a problem until he returned to his own reality.]

[The noise that escapes him is…annoyed but resigned. No, she’s not Bane, but if he were truly undead? Would he find his power blocked to him? Surely she had her limits, even if it wasn't his fault.

He flicks his already tended wing and buries his face in an arm.]

Maybe.

[Its childish to stop there, but he does for a solid moment.]

There have to be consequences sometimes. When deserved. You’ve said as much to me.

[The Archivist waits the siren out. Two can play the childishly stubborn game. And he's going to win it.]

Do you think it's deserved when you had literally no control over it happening to you? You'd tell me to stop being stupid if our situations were reversed. Admit it.

"You can start by letting me hold you. If that's alright," he Chris in the eye with his request, a little unsure if he should be asking it at all. He thinks that's what Chris wants, to be close. His body language suggests it in the way he leans in just a little before leaning back out, like he's denying himself, but that's not a sort of penance that Wolfe can stand for. Selfish of him maybe, but with how he's had the sense lately that he's losing everyone he cares for, he can't let Chris pull away. He's at his limit.

"I'll always talk with you, love. I'm not only here for the easy and the good. I'm here because I love you, because I want to make sure you feel it, and... And because you make me feel loved. Wanted." Whether Chris has agreed to curl in his arms again or not, he reaches to brush a bit of that golden hair from his love's face. "Whatever you need, I want to try and give it. If you need to figure out some way for you to make amends, we'll figure out a way. Even if it turns out I can't be the one to do it. But I want to try."

Whatever Chris needs of him, he wants to try.

He hesitates, even as he leans in again and back out. He shouldn't. It feels too soft and too...undeserved. But if it's what Wolfe needs...? Except Wolfe would absolutely say its what he needs thinking it's what Chris needs and maneuver him accordingly. Especially when he reaches out to brush some of Chris' hair from his face. Every move feels stark and clear and he knows he should resist. He shouldn't be so easy.

But maybe for the right people, he is.

Chris shifts closer and onto his knees to better press himself into Wolfe's space and into his arms. It feels like fire wherever he touches, but he doesn't pull away. "I don't think you can. You don't want to hurt me, even if I asked for it...and I don't want to use you."

Only Wolfe could really decide what balanced the scales between them, what Chris needed could be found elsewhere eventually.

"You're not. I said I'll try. If I don't think I can at any point, then I won't. I know it will do neither of us any good to push that boundary, especially if we aim to fix the pushing of another. But I want to try. I want to help you feel set to rights." He wishes it didn't involve pain, that soft words and tender kisses could do the work of a firmer hand, but if that's not what he needs then it's simply not. And maybe this will help him understand more why Chris needs to be hurt.

"We don't have something that's fragile, Chris, nor am I fragile either. It's alright to try." He thinks. He hopes. He does believe that, truly, but what matters is if Chris believes it to. There's a rigidness to Chris in his arms that Wolfe's trying hard to keep from making him doubt.

That feels wrong. Feels hot and uncomfortable like he needs to run from her attention...but if that's what she needs, he won't speak against it or draw away. Not more than he physically needs to for the ritual itself. The rest in his head he quiets and shoves away into corners to bury or address later. "I don't need much. A glass of water will do. A candle if you've no incense at hand...and the darkest area of the house, something that could simulate night." He stands, stretches a bit, and retrieves his folded knife from his boot to put in his pocket instead.

Something to do. Things to find for him. This helps. Maybe enough to keep her mind from spiraling outward the way she can see him trying to do. She hopes she's right.

"I'll need a few minutes to find the incense that--" That Aloïs bought for them. Her breath catches a little as she finally withdraws from him, shaking her head. "I'll find it. Let me get you that water first."

It only takes a moment to get him a glass of water and then to lead him upstairs. She pauses for a moment to retrieve a dark sheet from a closet, then leads him to what looks to be a closet at the very end of the floor. It instead opens up to a narrow stairwell, leading up to a dim, unfurnished attic with a single window in it. This Amelia covers with the sheet in her hands before withdrawing once more and running back down to the second floor. Two minutes later, she returns once more and offers him matches, a plain wooden incense holder, and a handful of incense.

"If it's not dark enough, I can grab another sheet. If it's well, tell me where to be or to go until you're done. I'll think on what we might do for me while you attend to your ritual."

[He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to cause Jon is right. He'd offer patience and understanding if they were switched and then turn hard and firm if it was thrown back into his face. When Jon had hurt people and the guilt ate at him, Chris was patient and caring. When Chris did it suddenly it was different?

Yes.
No.

He wants it to be. He wants someone to be angry and disgusted and violent because it might at least ease the sickening anger and guilt in him. And he hates that he knows a little better where Jon's head is when he gets like this too. Frustration wells and he's been quiet too long.]

Yes. You're right. I... I think I know- It's not...

[He closes his eyes tight a moment. Jon won't hurt him and Chris shouldn't ask but the temptation is heavy like a bad taste in the back of his mouth.]

How...much more do you have? I n- I need your help with just a little more. My head's too full.

Nearly done.

[A few more snips and it's over. He's rendered his bird a helpless, landlocked thing, and there's some part of Jon that twists with self-loathing that he's doing this to someone he loves. It's necessary to keep other people safe, to keep Chris from doing things that he'll hate himself for later. But it's a wretched thing to be tasked with being the jailer for someone who's spent so much of his life in a cage already.]

It's done.

[He thinks for a moment, then offers Chris the scissors.]

Break these. Don't hurt yourself with them. When you're ready to move, we're going to get in the shower. We can stay there as long as you need. I want to kiss you and touch you, if you'll let me. You still deserve that, Chris. I know it doesn't feel like it... but I want to do that. Please?

He takes a deeper breath and lets it out slowly to try and re-center his mind and shift the course of his thoughts. If they were going to do this, it needed to help. It needed to be the release and answer his mind needed so he didn't hurt Wolfe further. So he could maybe feel worth the forgiveness offered him.

"I know we don't...just-" He shuts his lips tightly so the words don't come out. Something didn't need to be fragile to become strained or cracked under enough pressure. He shakes his head and sits up to better face Wolfe, though he keeps a hand holding his mage's.

"We don't need a full new talk, but just a baseline. I won't make you make me beg, but you'll keep my safeword in mind just in case and are welcome to use the lights system. What I need is firmness and pain. That can be in form of a fight if you'd rather, but I've no intent of hitting you in a way that'd matter. I know you've no stomach for blades or blood...so impact would be fine. Your electricity or ice'd be fine, I'd only request heat not go so far as fire. If you want to get me off, you can, but it's not my personal aim. All I'm after is...silence. For my head. Release from the grip in my chest."

The attic she takes him to is perfect, all things considered, and the time it takes her to retrieve the incense he spends taking a small sip of the water and then drawing a bit of chalk from the one small pouch he almost always took with him. It's enough time to get most of the circle and symbols he needs on the floor.

He looks up at her from where he's kneeling and takes the items with a grateful nod. "This is appreciated and all well enough. I only need another minute or so to finish this step, then I'll need abut ten to cast the spell...you need not be here until the end, if you'd rather be elsewhere...or you can remain on the other side of the circle there." He nods to the far curve across from him. He could cast it sooner...but if Amelia was going to take the time to think, he could draw it out and spare his reserves the strain.

As he waits for her decision, he turns and lights some of the inscense and settles in cross-legged to finish the last symbols he needs regardless.

It feels like she's invading a sacred space as he works. In a way, she knows she is, with this ritual being for his god. If he needs her here at the end of it, though, so be it. She only hopes she doesn't disturb anything he needs to do

"Take your time - I'm not going anywhere today, and I'm here with you as you need me." Chris gets a last small smile before she takes a few steps back and settles onto the floor, exhaling a slow breath to steady herself as he begins.

Even as she's promised to take it, Amelia doesn't know what to ask the cleric for to help herself. Time with Wolfe had helped settle her in her body again. More time would be what's necessary for her to fully process what had happened at the beach. Maybe... talking to him would help? Would make it easier to understand why he'd called to her in the first place? Her own part in it she understands, but his is still difficult to comprehend.

Her fingers are in her hair attempting to weave new braids to pull into a loose crown atop her head as he works, the rote motion helping ease some of her anxiety. She keeps failing when attempting to pull them together across the back of her head, but it doesn't matter. She'll finish or give up when he's settled things with his lady, and she'll be ready for him when he once again asks for her.

Edited 2023-07-08 13:20 (UTC)

"Not with magic," he answers immediately. That's a hard line for him. It's one thing to use it in the bedroom for pleasure and fun, an expression of affection, but to intentionally use his magic to harm someone he loves, that he can't do and still face himself in the mirror. Justice going mad and turning on them when they'd been trying to get out of the Warden prison had shaken him for months, and that had been self defense.

"Framing it like sparring might be easiest. Boxing, maybe?" It's a sport, they're meant to hit each other, that should work out. Maybe. There's still an unease to the idea that he's having trouble sitting with but he buries it under what Chris needs from him.

"I don't think I could mix sex with that, though. Not if you're just... Letting me hit you." This is settling very wrongly in the pit of his stomach, but he's trying.

“I’d be putting up some kind of fight. I’d not ask you to just beat me like some poor maiden caught with the wrong man.” It comes out a bit sharper than he means, but his next breath cools it again. He tries for a smile.

“If I thought you’d be genuinely rough, I’d simply take sex as well…but I respect the line you have there. Come on, then..”

He stands and makes to lead them around to the backyard. “Don’t want people getting thoughts to inviting SIN guards here or that Jon can’t ‘control his submissives’ properly.”

Once they have a little more privacy, he turns to face Hawke. “Just a friendly spar, right? Don’t need to think of it any other way.”

He thinks he could be genuinely rough, but not if it comes from this place of violence that Chris is asking of him. It's one thing if the goal is release and that's just a way to it, but this is punishment. Maybe even deserved, Hawke does see how Chris feels he should be punished for what he's done. It makes sense, he just doesn't agree. Maybe Amelia would feel otherwise, will feel otherwise.

Chris getting up snaps his thoughts back to the present. "No, of course not."

He'd not thought they would be doing this right now, but he nods and follows, trying to get in a proper mindset for a fight when all he wants is to wrap himself around Chris and shield him, apologize again for not being there for him in his anger. He squares off, knowing he's grown quiet, that he should say something to make this easier, more... Normal? But nothing about this is their normal.

Neither was sex, to start. Neither was love. This is just another shift. Chris has asked this of him directly and he asks so little. He can try. For Chris, he can try anything.

Hawke curls his hands into fists and brings them level with this face, bending at the knees slightly as Scott taught him after the Pit, after he'd needed to learn to defend himself without magic.

He readies himself and he lets out a slow breath of frost that mingles with the too-warm air, and time slows to an agonizing, torturous crawl.

They square off and Chris can see the tinge in the air, the frost in a reasonably warm day. Hawke is stressed. Incredibly so. He should stop this. He should call this off. Wolfe is not made for this, not a man made of love. Kindly love. Love Chris didn't deserve. Not for how terribly he handles it.

His hands are too rough for someone like Adalwolfe Hawke. And Chris is too selfish to do anything to change it.

He brings his hands up in his usual stance and nods to him. He should stop this. He can feel the thorns tangling in his throat.

Chris lunges, uncharacteristically making the first attack in the hopes it loosens Wolfe up, but it's easily tracked and easily blocked. Hitting Wolfe isn't his intention, not more than a glancing blow to his shoulder, if allowed.

It had been Hawke's plan to make the first move. Strike quickly and decisively so he didn't give himself enough time to think. But even with the world seeming to move in horrible slow motion, he's not fast enough. His feet remain rooted, his arms up, and when Chris darts at him it feels like an age before the cleric actually connects. Or would have.

He moves on instinct not to block, not to parry, but instead his arms drop and he twists, grasping Chris against his arms so he doesn't go flying past but the blow barely connects. There's not even a sting. Instead he holds Chris there for a moment, lines apparent around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

"I can't do this." He should have known when Chris asked. Shouldn't have pushed. He knows he can be violent, dole out pain in a myriad of ways, but that's precisely why he can't do this now. There's still frost on his breath when he looks at Chris, strained but calm. Clarity at the forefront, hopefully grand enough to cover the guilt for not being able to do what's been asked. "I've hurt far too many people in my life already, whether they deserved it or not. I can't purposely hurt someone I love as well as I love you."

He swallows, a guilty hollow in his chest for not being able to be what Chris needs of him, but there's a calm to it. A knowledge that Chris won't leave him for it, a security that he's not sure he's ever really felt with anyone else, not after saying no to something. There's always been a doubt, even with Anders, that his refusal will mean an ending, however trivial. Here it feels like wisdom, knowing and setting their boundaries. He'd learned that from Chris in the first place.

"I'm sorry I can't be what you need right now, Love." He hugs him then, a tight, fierce squeeze that's over as quickly as he'd given it for how he imagines Chris doesn't want a soft touch. He pulls back just after, his knuckles brushing Chris' fingers the only contact he still allows for himself and even that is easily moved away from. "Just... promise me you'll be safe in finding it."

There's a moment of surprise and then crushing guilt that flits through his expression and buries back down to hide in the cold and thorns in his chest. He should have been the one to call this when Wolfe offered. Nevermind being a better dom, he should have been a better boyfriend. What a sorry excuse he was.

His expression smooths out to concern and Chris' hands reach up to stroke and then cup Wolfe's face. "No, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked...and I shouldn't have let it get so far. I know your stance on such things...and this isn't the nature of our relationship." He hesitates and his hands fall again, though he doesn't move away. "I'll figure it out, it's not for you to worry after...all I want from you is to know if you do think of someway for me to make up the pain I've caused you aside from what time'll allow."

[There's a twist in him at being known so well that even an accidental 'slip' with the scissors might not be tolerated, but he dutifully sits up and does as he's told. The scissors snap apart far too easily and sheer in the middle for the effort. He sets the pieces aside and drags himself to turn around and face Jon. Well, face might be too generous when he plants his eyes against his boyfriend's shoulder and snakes his arms around him. His back feels wrong. Too light. The gentle touch and sentiment feel wrong. Too soft. He breathes through the feeling of glass inside his chest and buries it down.]

Alright. [Another breath and a pause before he lifts his face enough to kiss Jon's shoulder.] Sometimes, you're far too good for me.

[And sometimes, it was the reverse...but that was just how they balanced each other. Some days on the same plane and others spent pulling one or the other or the both of them back out of the muck they found themselves in.]

"Don't be, please. It's something that you need and I want to be able to do whatever it is that you ever need." He rests one hand against Chris' on his cheek but doesn't hold him there when he pulls away. "But I can't be all things, and you've never asked that of me. It's just something I've needed to learn to accept for a long time."

Another flaw he'd figured out too slowly.

He smiles regardless, a soft expression with a tinge of regret but not remorse. "I do worry after you, though. That you'll have to allow me because I don't intend to stop. As for the rest of it, I think time is the best healer, but I will tell you if I think of anything."

He knows in his bones there's nothing because he doesn't feel there's anything left to forgive. He doesn't feel wronged. Maybe he should, but for Wolfe knowing whoever's wronged him did so not of malice and makes efforts not to repeat it has always been enough. What he said is true, he's not so fragile. "You can always ask, Love. If I know I can say no and it won't break anything, then please know you can always ask for anything."

[Sometimes, Jon knows he's not nearly good enough for Chris. He'll do his best to make up for it where he can. Like flinching slightly when Chris wraps around him. Jon knows a better boyfriend wouldn't do that... even with a murderous siren as the one to hug them so sweetly.

Jon breathes out slowly and forces his body to stop. For now. Instead, he reaches up to grasp one of Chris' arms and give it a comforting squeeze.]

You'd do the same for me. I love you. Now, let's get you back onto the roller and into the bathroom. I like my sirens like I like my coffee: wet.

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