davin0s

he wasn't good at reciprocating care. never knowing the right words to say, despite being overly aware of other's emotions around him. he could see julien struggling under the weight of it all, as if his own grief was chafing against julien's. now that his focus had solely fallen on this man in his bed, it was easier to see the tears welling in that sharp jade gaze. fighting for control over overwhelming emotions that azune had just surrendered himself to.

“ okay, ” he breathed at the other's first words. who would've thought? back when their fate first met, on different sides of the battlefield, that they'd be tangled like this now. that he'd have his back without being asked to. “ we've showed einfassen the truth of that night. ” azune confessed, cupping julien's cheek, as if that could provide some comfort. “ with careful fabricated evidence, but we did not let tachonis' lies cover up what really happened. ”

there is much that i know of you, harondus had said meaning his service of the falconer's rebellion. and now there is something you know of me. and azune hoped it meant the beginning of his distrust towards house tachonis. he hoped he didn't doom julien too.

“Do you presume to know why I came here?” It was that same old mocking tone but contrasting to the way his eyes closed, head tilting slightly as if guided by the brush of Azune’s callous thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. Too delicate and soft for a warrior and a veteran. Only a thin scar across his upper lip marred the perfect visage, like a chip in a porcelain cup. He chuckled low and his eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes for a moment.

Almost distractedly, he picked the tip of Azune’s braid, rolling the end with his fingers until it was as fine as a rare ginger brush. It was unclear if he was allowing himself to stay in the closeness of that intimacy, or allowing Azune to keep him there. But he was there, for now, tense but close, looking like he might start to purr at any minute or simply bolt. Maybe not even he was entirely sure. 

Julien Davinos wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, but not of this kind. Any other time he would have pushed Azune back on that bed and let the night take them where it willed. It was what one usually did when death was certain, or when alone with a handsome and willing knight. But Azune asked, or needed something more of him— Somehow giving up his life to die by his side felt far easier. He could give him a hundred oaths if it involved fighting by his side. 

Those green eyes looked up again to watch him, a near perfect jade green, pale and cool. Fast fingers tugging slightly at the end of the braid wrapped around his finger.

or those nights they spend, tangled in rented sheets and in a desperate search to feel alive. the julien after the massacre of house davinos was the clearest to see. lost, mourning, a weapon honed to avenge those that had hurt him. this julien tonight, is perhaps the biggest puzzle of all. he’d been used to a sharp tongue and possessive touch. the steady hand on his stomach was almost uncharacteristically tender in comparison. staunching an invisible wound that had begun to bleed since thjazi’s funeral.

although a day before, it was his hand staunching an actual wound. and her words that brought a part of a little boy back to life.

julien’s words hit him, as if someone had taken his warhammer and knocked the air out of his lungs. a mere 12 hours ago, he was sobbing and begging asking for assistance in the support of his case. he’d tried his oldest and his closest friend. he’d tried a boy who was not alive anymore but could prove it all. just don’t let me go alone. please don’t make me go with only of what i already have. a small animal noise escaped him. not quite a sob, more of a gasp. at hearing an answer he was searching for, from a question he didn’t know how to ask. after all, julien had been both a victim and a witness to it all.

The other hand still gripped the bottle, crushed between their bodies, his only known way out of the pain discarded and forgotten. There was none of the playful possessiveness he had come to know, but a hungry, lonely desperation. He tasted salt on his lips, grief, fear. Too raw, too open, too much.

With a grunt that sounded almost like a wounded animal, Julien finally turned his face to the side, breaking the kiss. He didn’t entirely pull away, his hand still holding a fistful of his shirt, body tense. A nearly drowned man taking shaky, lungfuls of air. He felt just as lightheaded, his mind reeling to grasp at the threads of his thoughts, his cool disregard that always kept him safe from this kind of thing. 

He tried his usual smirk and opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came, just a too vulnerable intake of breath that made him feel sick to his stomach. Like offering his neck up for the chopping block. Stupid.

Dead, cursed gods, how he hated him then.