…for my character’s reaction to your character running their fingers through my character’s hair.
He really isn't fond of Daud.
There is little to find fond in the (former, possibly current, as Corvo does not care what methods Daud employs to keep the little Empress safe) assassin, but Corvo doesn't try either way. Daud is Daud and Corvo cannot stand the presence of him, riveted so on echoes brought about by the past.
However, he is fond enough of Daud's habits that are no doubt meant to irk him further, and as much as he dislikes Daud, he doesn't quite mind the touch of the other man's fingers in his hair, ruffling the long strands.
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He is made of the things, welts and sore spots. His eyes raise to see posters of the Empress and his chest purples all over again; he moves to subdue instead of kill and his hands ache; when he runs and leaps and slides to a stop, there is always a moment of lurched discomfort in his legs, arms, bones. He is a bruise and all of him hurts.
Most of all, there is always a pain on his tongue, begging to be heard, but it is just under the surface of his skin, and he will not speak of it.
His fingers seek out Daud’s coat and his shirt and climb up, grabbing taut on the collar to reel him in and make it impossible to leave, for there is a cup of affliction that they two share, even with this, and to bow out would be to allow the cup to spill over. He wants to strangle the man as much as he wants to kiss him hard enough to make him want to forget, and the bruises bloom darker against his heart.
Bruises and stitches and wounds, and he does not think to help them heal.
A hand grasps Corvo’s hair tight and strong and Corvo growls, enough to still Daud for a second; a second is all he needs to shove the man back into the wall, lips back on lips within a beat of that damaged heart, and there is a hint of satisfaction in the manner that Daud tugs on his hair again, but Corvo is moving to bite bruises into Daud’s neck, throat, everywhere.
If all of Corvo is a bruise, then the least he can do is share the anguish.
They’re getting along, if getting along means that the first time they attempt sparring with each other, Corvo slams his heel down on top of Daud’s foot while ignoring actual etiquette, because there are manners associated with these things. There is decorum, even for the murderer of the Empress and the masked Terror of Dunwall; there is protocol, especially for the Royal Spymaster and the Lord Protector.
Manners, decorum, and protocol is all well and good, but Corvo still rams the hardest part of his shoe into Daud’s toes.
One of the guards whistles, and Curnow is shading his eyes against the dim sunlight to see what exact kind of foul play is going on, but it’s ultimately the young Empress that stops the sparring from turning into an all-out fight.
She sees Daud favoring his foot and sees Corvo no worse for wear, aside from the dust making his coat turn a muddy color rather than the usual blue.
"Corvo," Emily says, scolding him for not playing nice, and he only appears ruefully apologetic because Emily’s word will always be law in his mind; his expression turns to one of irritated disgust when he notices Daud’s amused smirk.
"— you’ll have to doctor him," Emily finishes, and Corvo stares at her. Daud’s glee is palpable. Corvo hopes vindictively that his foot is broken.
"Lady Emily, surely the Royal Physician would be more equipped," Corvo tries to say, but Emily shakes her head once, decisive.
"No, you’ll do just fine. You’ve taken care of me when I’ve been sick before. And Callista makes sure I clean up my messes, so should you.”
Corvo makes a note to ask Callista to please make sure Emily does not apply any lessons to him, anymore, thank you. He looks at Daud, who is playing up the injury as if he really has broken his foot, and then looks back to Emily, who makes sure she kisses Corvo’s cheek before running off again, accompanied by a clearly entertained Curnow.
And this is how Corvo ends up perched on a stool as Daud lounges in an armchair, the Spymaster’s bare foot propped atop Corvo’s knee.
"I’m sure it was an accident," Daud says indulgently.
Corvo’s going to kill him.
"I know how clumsy you can be…"
Corvo’s really going to kill him.
"If you were surefooted — fuck —”
Corvo smiles as he releases his death grip on the pressure point at the bottom of Daud’s foot, head tipped down so as to allow his hair to shield the majority of his face. Daud has tensed entirely, every muscle as rigid as can be, and Corvo does not look up as he tries to actually make it seem like he’s helping.
Daud doesn’t fall for it, but Corvo didn’t think he would.
”No —”
Daud cuts himself off with a loud exhale through his nose this time as Corvo’s fingers dig into the pressure point again, and the quiet breath that passes between Corvo’s lips could be described as a laugh.
crawls into your inbox seeking the k like a piece of trash
#5 | firm kiss
His name is enough to drive Corvo to the end of his patience, and the only thing keeping him from going right off the edge is the knowledge that he chose to allow the man to live; he is indebted to Corvo, by all rights, twice over.
Corvo keeps his name bitten between his teeth, the bitter taste of regret and hatred and sorrow thick and cloying on his tongue. There is a desperation that seeps through his skin and electrifies all his movements, all his muscles taut and irritated the moment he lays eyes on him. Every time, without fail, he wants him to just go already.
They fight. Always, do they fight. And with Corvo’s blade shrieking against the metal of the other’s, Corvo has his mask wrenched off in a heartbeat and in the next, his lips are on Daud’s.
He could not tell anyone what possessed him to do such; why he would kiss the man, when he would sooner prefer to slide his blade between Daud’s ribs and rip away his lungs, leave him just as breathless as Corvo had been, seeing Jessamine slumped to the ground. He couldn’t do a thing, but this — this he could do, a hard kiss so different from the usual soft set of his mouth, so different than how he would have ever kissed her —
When the kiss breaks, quick, surprised, Corvo stumbles back a step, throws the mask on the floor, and kisses Daud again, just as unrelenting as the last, with the same furious edge.
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4: Is there anything enjoyable about writing your muse?
No.
JK. Corvo is a very interesting character because there's such a dichotomy between his low chaos and high chaos personality. It's fun to write both of them and see what about him is the same, what is different, how his thought processes differ and why. Low Chaos Corvo is dear to me because I rarely play characters who aren't outright rude or horrible.
7: What is your preferred roleplaying style and why?
I really like para. I can sort of blab a lot, and it allows me to get more in depth with my character's thoughts and actions. I tend to stretch semi-para out into para over the course of like two replies, anyway.
9: Is there a certain writing style or colloquialisms you have to use for you muse that changes from your own?
Well, to start with, he doesn't say "fuckin" every other sentence. Other than that, I try to keep his dialogue simple, without all the convoluted bullshit that I'm likely to say. I also try to limit my use of words that have been invented more recently or words that are specific to the religion or history of this universe.
