chrisisofaith | IC Contact

[ The second Crais opens the door, the tabby is winding around Chris' ankles and making annoying noises. Look, Crais is training him to be happy about guests - that Crais often thrusts him upon as a means of disarming said guests. ]

Yes, actually, but if you even think of actually singing and I 'll throw you out again.

[ He's smiling a bit. It's not a serious threat, just... Crais. ]

[Despite any kvetching, Chris doesn’t hesitate to crouch down and offer his piece of chicken to the little tabby.]

Hey there, small one. An offering for ya…

[He looks up at Crais, that smile back in place.]

No fears, I’m a passable singer, but more likely to sweep you into a dance if I fancied.

[ Slyvester takes the chicken with delight, and much purring. He's honestly a very nice cat, even if Crais called him an asshole. ]

I can't even pretend you're that sort of person. The cat's occupied, come join me in the kitchen. I'll feed you to make up for demanding your attention.

[He hums a bit to himself.]

Ah...yes, now I see why you've got the cat. Alright, deal.

[He does give the little thing a few scritches before leaving him to his prize to follow Crais.]

You're welcome to my attention so long as it's not elsewhere in more need, which honestly isn't often. Anything on your mind or just a cooking bug and needed a ready mouth?

If I invited you over to make use of your mouth, I wouldn't be cooking.

[ He's a little caught off guard by that statement but only in a way that actually makes him laugh. This guy is... a lot more than he appears, in several ways. The wicked sense of humor is a nice surprise. ]

Let me feed you the food, first. Then we can discuss the rest.

[He shrugs.]

I dunno what you're into. Grew up in a brothel, lotsa people into lotsa things.

[But the smile and humor in his voice give away that he definitely doesn't think Crais is into anything he might be implying.

Teasing was just a fun pastime.]

I'm all yours, what's on the menu, then?

[He'll follow Crais into the kitchen and waste no time in ploping himself up on the countertop.]

[ He doesn't think Crais might be into... oral sex? Because Crais is absolutely into having his dick sucked, thank you.

He moves to grab a dishtowel to pull a pan out of the oven, and set it on top of the stove. ]

Potatoes with gravy. It's cheese short of being poutine, but cheese and I have a questionable relationship. Grew up in a brothel?

[The fuck’s poutine? Well, potatoes with cheese, he supposes.]

Sounds wonderful. But, yeah…“Swallow’s Charm” was home sweet home from the age of four to twenty-two.

[ Given their wildly different time periods and realities their confusion over things is strangely similar. Crais enjoys the food aspects of that confusion though.

He gets busy plating up the fries and gravy and finding forks. ]

I'd like to be surprised or appalled but we had children born and growing up on Command Carriers - military ships. I'll settle for concerned.

[Theres a surge of defensiveness in him that he quickly tamps down on. Other brothels certainly had such practices and Chris hadn’t been specific, it’s not Crais’ fault.]

Ah..well, valid feelings, but they’re not needed on my behalf, I didn’t do much work there until I was sixteen-on and even then, only man I bedded was one I picked, wasn’t allowed on the menu otherwise.

My official title was ‘companion’ when I had skirts about me, I gave people company and listened to their stories and woes. When I shed the skirts, turned more to security.

[He shakes his head]

Lady Ivaline woulda skinned anyone who so looked at me. She took me in to protect me from those who wanted a child dead.

that is definitely better than starting to train children to kill people when they're five.

[ He just accepts what he's told. He knows nothing about most people's world's here so what he's told is... what is. It's freeing in some ways.

Meanwhile he hands Chris his prepared plate of food and plates his own up. Yeah Chris, go ahead and eat on the counter. He'll settle in beside you shortly.]

No, that’d be my twin.

[He takes the food, yes on the counter, with a small ‘thank you’ and happily takes a bite of fries with gravy. Great use of fries or chips or whatever they’re called, honestly.]

She was taken in by an assassin group and raised for one. We each had our role to play.

[Even if it had taken time for Chris to fall into his.]

Were you one of those children you mention, born into such a life?

Role to play.

[ Echoed blandly, but not with judgement. He might resent those implications a little but that's not about Chris or his sibling, it's his own shit coming out to play.

Speaking of. ]

No.

[ He takes a bite, and then elaborates. ]

My brother and I were part of a handful of conscripts when I was in my early teens. I spent most of my actual childhood in an agricultural community.

[Chris is patient for the explanation, happy to busy himself with his own food.

Crais says agriculture and for a moment, there's an almost starry look in his eye at the thought. Farming and ranching were a novelty, Melvaunt's ground wasn't rich enough to support either, which was why so many people were fishermen or manufacturers or soldiers. There was something charming to the idea of working with the land like that, even if Chris had only ever picked up one of those little hand trowels because Chastity had shoved it at him.

Then the rest registers, particularly 'conscript' and Chris' eyes narrow a moment.]

So you and he were still forced into the war, just not from birth.

[Was it better or worse to not know another life? He supposes he wouldn't know.]

Were you able to stay together, at least?

[ Common misunderstanding he should have anticipated. He's still not used to sanity in these things, but- ]

No war. Not of our own. We were effectively a very large mercenary group, to which most were born to, some where conscripted to, and almost no one voluntarily joined. We fought wars for the highest bidder.

And yes, Tauvo and I stayed together.

[He had no opinions on mercenaries or mercenary work in general, but a whole group like that, one that could even conscript? That was a private army waiting to happen and, by the sounds of it, did.

Terrifying in concept, especially when he can just picture how a city like Mulmaster or Zenethil might use such a thing..

He shakes his head.]

I hate that. Sorry it happened to you both.

I appreciate the compassion and sense behind that statement, but it's a system tens of thousands of years old and while I didn't enjoy it, it was also completely normal while I was within it and if I'm traumatized I haven't noticed.

[ He does however recognize that it's terrible, but also he's dead. ]

Eat. We can go cuddle or something when we've finished.

[There’s, honestly, plenty of sense in that. It was similar to how he felt about the assassination of his family. Plenty were angry for him. He didn’t remember them or the event, it wasn’t his trauma.]

I hear you. Not worried for it so much as the thought scares me, but you’re right: it is what it is, and what it isn’t is here.

[But he’ll turn back to his food. It affords him a chance to figure out the emotions for what he needs to say. At least he doesn’t feel the need to pick his words carefully with Crais.]

I’m not a great cuddler unless it’s after sex or going to bed, but I can try.

Though, if you’re into having your hair pet, my lap makes an excellent pillow.

[ He really likes Chris.

He really really likes Chris. ]

I want to sit down and I like physical contact. You can pet my hair or we can forego the contact. The part I'm determined about is sitting on an upholstered surface.

[Chris laughs, bright and not unlike a bark, but earnest. There was what made Crais so endearing and why Chris had been willing to try and cuddle until his inevitable fidgeting discomfort rolled up.]

What, counter’s not good enough for you? Fine, couch it’ll be, but I want at your hair for a bit. It’s relaxing.

[And, with that, he will finish up his food.]

Edited 2022-02-07 22:45 (UTC)

Some of us are less inclined to perching.

[Tease about the bird and wings? Yes. But he puts all their dishes in the sink and then heads into the living room, working on getting his ponytail unwrapped so he can take it down for Chris.]

Can you elaborate on the not being a fan of cuddling, so I can avoid anything similar in the future?

[If Chris looks like he’s preening a bit under the tease, it’s cause he is. He does perch.

He follows Crais to the living room and takes one side of the couch to give as much room for stretching out as possible.]

I can try. Not always good at words. You’re a little easier for my head, though.

[He pats his lap. Doing something with his hands will help.

Once he can get his fingers into Crais’ hair, he picks through the feeling as carefully as the strands.]

It’s..not that I don’t like it or can’t do it, not even that I can’t sit still when I want to, but physical affection’s always been…harder’n it should be. Not sex, mind, that’s easy, but holding hands, hugs, cuddling, the like.

[He smiles to himself, but there’s some sadness to it.]

I’ve got..two beautiful men back home, love ‘em dearly but I…forget to say it. Forget to take their hands, kiss ‘em goodnight or goodbye. I have to remind myself it’s what they want. They do it as easy as breathing, but when they want to hold me, it’s like a vibration starts under my skin and eventually it’s too much.

[He shakes his head, focus fully on the hair in his hands.]

Dunno why, I’m just bad at love and affection. Luckily, they’ve got each other for it too, for when I forget.

[ Crais is not particularly tall and has no intention of putting his feet on the couch, anyway, so there's plenty of room for him to use Chris' lap as a pillow and have his ankles and feet just off the end and over the arm.

His hair is surprisingly fluffy. It's also curly and fine and prone to tangling, so the care is appreciated.

Crais listens to all of that without a change in expression until near the end and then-]

That made perfectly good sense, except 'bad at love'.

[Now Chris is confused, but it doesn’t stop him from working small braids into Crais’ hair. Nothing fancy.]

What’d you mean? If I can’t express what I’m feeling, generally means I’m bad for it, to my mind.

[ He may have a minor concern about what is being done to his hair but he isn't interested in stopping the conversation to investigate. ]

It's an emotion and you made sure their needs were met. I'm not sure how you can be bad at an emotion or how not ensuring that their needs were met, as well as your own, is a lack of expression of it.

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