[ the denouement feels like a slow creep and a whirlwind at once. although that's largely a perception wriothesley carries born from falling in and out of consciousness during the worst of the recovery, then flitting between the buzz of sedatives in the immediate aftercare. judging from neuvillette's expressions throughout the week, along with everyone else's; containing the madness was a fittingly horrifying and taxing ordeal. and after entertaining the stream of friends who stepped in to help both him and neuvillette through the worst of it, wriothesley has kept up a convincing performance since being more lucid: that if he behaves as he should from now on, then they needn't stay too long.
and while it's hard to make spoken promises of prudence in a place like karteria, wriothesley admits easily enough to exercising far more caution moving forward. if only to spare everyone, and above all neuvillette, from worrying themselves sick or find themselves tangled in more corruption in looking after him.
so when wriothesley waves off the last of their sudden guests, largely by walking them to the front gate, he turns to face neuvillette with a rueful smile. tired and still mangled, but overall faring better. he lumbers his way back toward their front door, and the first real emotion he shares between them alone is one of wavering relief. for a split second—an instinct borne of his own sordid upbringing—he seems to steel himself for a real reprimand.. whether with cutting words or something a little more tactile. ]
So, any suggestions on what we do next? [ there's a pause as he steps into the threshold of their home and hovers close. almost bracing himself for any sort of reaction, response, or retort. ] Cleaning is mostly taken care of, thanks to everyone, but then there's dinner to think of still.. and I'm going to assume there's a nice, long heart-to-heart somewhere in there.
( the hours and days have blurred into an indiscernible period of time, marked by the ebb and flow of wriothesley's injuries and the dwindling violence of his healing. neuvillette finds himself endlessly grateful for the kindness of their friends, shared and otherwise — that their home has been thoughtfully, thoroughly cleaned in the aftermath of all of this is a testament to the warmth and grace extended by their fellow augmented.
wriothesley, it seems, needs even more time to recover. neuvillette can see it in the way he is more cautious, shedding his usual prowling grace for care. he looks rather the rough for wear, too, fraying at the edges when when seeing their friends off, and neuvillette can't blame him. it is a lot to digest all at once, to know the days you've lost when you have gone under for your own sanity. the agony that neuvillette has known in the past few days has dissipated, and his own healing had done the rest, leaving only bone-deep exhaustion that he sets aside for wriothesley's sake.
the tired, rueful smile he wears is a blessing, too, and neuvillette can't help but offer one in return, twitching lightly at the corners. if the duke expects a reprimand, he will find nothing of the sort; only relief that he has returned, un-tormented by his soul's healing abilities. neuvillette sets the near-decimated first aid kit aside, and makes a note to purchase new supplies, but that is not important now. what matters is that inevitable need for recalibration and a talk: a way to decompress and put to rest everything that has happened in the past week. the choices he had to make, all the truths wriothesley now has to face.
a part of him feels trepidation: had he made the right decisions for wriothesley? and this newfound, strange... connection between them, nascent and unexpected, redefining how they are to relate to each other. he feels the relief like his own and yet not, and he doesn't know what to think of it. what does he do with this, does wriothesley like it?
he stays close to him nonetheless, reaching out lightly to straighten the collar of his shirt. in the face of all the thing they have to address, he sorts out the easiest one first: )
I will heat up the leftovers in the fridge. Shall we speak as we dine? You will need to keep your strength up as you continue to heal.
[ neuvillette wears exhaustion much like wriothesley does—awkwardly, and with far too much emotion showing for his own liking. but at the end of the day, it's just the two of them again. same as it ever was after deciding to carve something in karteria for themselves; and outside of watching neuvillette quietly reach out to smooth the wrinkles from his shirt, wriothesley knows the gesture is as much for neuvillette’s comfort as it is for his own. and though he tries to tamp down the strangeness of their new emotional bond, there’s still a current of muted regret and concern that slips through.
it becomes harder to ignore once he notices the rough condition of neuvillette's hand: red and dry from tending to his wounds for days, with lingering traces of corruption from maintaining touch even as wriothesley's soul lashed out at the other in delirium. there's even a faint tremble from the iudex's hand that he can still feel through the fabric, likely from exhaustion and witnessing the same trauma they now share. even so, wriothesley holds himself steady for them both as he closes the front door behind them and leads the way to the kitchen. ]
I could go for one of the soups our friends have made. But really, I wouldn’t complain even if supper were just bouillon à la tasse.
[ while he knows neuvillette typically prefers soups and consommés served in proper tableware, wriothesley suspects the other might sense his desire for something simpler—something pacifying, even. amidst the haze of dulled emotions and the mental blocks he puts up between the pair bond, there's still a quiet longing for the sort of comfort that comes from sipping broth from a mug. something nostalgic and grounding. ]
That way, dinner and our talk won’t be such a hassle while we’re in bed. [ their conversation will be heavy, without question, and the last thing wriothesley wants is for it to taint their appetite or burden what should be a moment of peace. even as he suggests it, he’s keenly aware of how the idea might be taken, and quickly softens the implication. ] I promise it’s more about wanting a change of scenery for us than anything untoward.
[ he has no desire to spend another night in the parlor room. even though it's been scrubbed clean—free of all the viscera that nearly soaked through the baseboard moulding and up the walls—the room remains soured to him in more ways than one. it’s where old memories stirred, drawn up from the dark corners of orphanage halls, and where the echoes of blood and failure clung no matter how hard they all worked to mask it. what he wants now is simple and plainly familiar to them both. and he almost pleads for it in his emotions, silently—just the comfort of their shared room, their 'nest'. ultimately: a space untouched by pain. ]
( neuvillette catches the hint quickly, and perhaps it is just as well; neither of them are up for the time-consuming ritual of food preparation and cleaning up when there are other more crucial matters at hand. like this upcoming talk, which might perhaps address why wriothesley's gaze lingers on his hands when he thinks neuvillette isn't looking. despite the clear indications of wriothesley's own exhaustion — neuvillette notices, too, that wriothesley is their anchor, steadying himself for them both.
as it always is; wriothesley has always presented as the sturdy, immovable force within the fortress, and perhaps now he finds that role within the new boundaries of the relationship they have created for themselves here.
neuvillette nods, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth when he hurries to clarify his intentions, and he gently rests his hand on his with quiet reassurance. )
I understand. Although... there is nothing untoward about us in bed.
( no matter what they're doing in it. it is their sanctuary, their nest, of quiet connection, comfort and peace, however it is achieved: although now it seems they are of one mind, to seek shelter, understanding, and to rest. the parlor room, while impeccably restored by friends, still bears the fresh memories of agony, the sour edge of torment and determination, and he can feel the ache for their sanctuary echoing in their new connection, amidst the ebb and flow of wriothesley's thoughts. )
Would you like to make yourself comfortable while I prepare our cups? I will be there soon.
[ even if wriothesley does his best to keep his side of the bond quiet—for more reasons than one—it’s impossible to ignore how grounded neuvillette seems through their shared connection. while there are still faint ripples across the surface, they’re less turbulent now—more like steady pulses or quiet echoes of what wriothesley allows from his side to pass through. ]
No. [ the refusal lingers just a second too long, enough to suggest he’s making a point. but it’s softened by a faint smirk and a light laugh. along with a subtle shake of his head, wriothesley shifts the conversation before neuvillette can interrupt. ] I think the better question is: how would you like your soup tonight, my dear? Strained through the usual cheesecloth, or filtered with a proper raft so you can enjoy a bit of real consommé this time?
[ they're still far from reclaiming the full rhythm of their day-to-day, but wriothesley leans into the domestic moment anyway, his teasing light despite the weight of everything they've endured. they pause at the kitchen entrance, caught between weariness and familiarity. ]
We've had others taking care of us all week. And you’ve done more than enough to help me through my own recovery.
[ to underline his point, he lifts his bandaged arm and gently reaches for neuvillette’s hand. the grip is shaky—his fingers tremble as they curl around the other’s—but it’s a clear, conscious effort. a sign of his usual steadiness trying to reassert itself through the haze of healing. ]
So please, let me move around a bit. Let me return some of that care in kind. Even if it’s just skimming the stock the way you like it.
( where there are beats of calm and the occasional inexplicable silence on wriothesley's end of the bond, neuvillette's own end thrums with the warmth, honesty, and trust of one who has never had to gird himself from betrayal — or fear that it will be used against him. even if he had once used distance as a survival mechanism and a way to dispense justice effectively, neuvillette has always made exceptions for wriothesley.
neuvillette wonders, however, if feeling the tranquility from him amidst the odd quiet is normal. perhaps that is how whatever this new thing between them works. he's back to being dressed in his usual outfit, buttoned up to hide the new scars on his throat, a mirror of wriothesley's. he had thought little of it at first; perhaps just a result of the violence of sustained healing. when it hadn't gone away, neuvillette had hidden it away to figure it out later.
anyway, now is not the time to think about that when wriothesley refuses him, a welcome echo of himself that makes something in neuvillette's chest loosen. there he is, with that trademark humor and stubbornness. "my dear", he says now, and neuvillette's heart is warm. )
I will defer to your preferences. I find that you have a way of making such fare both exciting and palatable.
( but has he done enough, really? neuvillette has heard what he did and why; that self-sacrificing act as noble as they come, and when his bandaged hand comes to grip his, still shaky and loose, neuvillette closes his around him to provide more warmth, more of their imprinting. he lifts it to his cheek and closes his eyes, resting it on the gauze. )
Of course. That said... you have had a long, long week, my Wriothesley. Perhaps you can order me around while you get things ready.
[ as they usher the chaos of the past week out of their home, the silence that settles in its place feels different in a few ways. maybe it’s the weight of everything said and done in the middle of the frenzy, or maybe it’s the quiet, dawning sense that something between them has irrevocably changed in a way neither can fully name yet. whatever the reason, the warmth behind neuvillette’s gestures and the softness in his voice still reach wriothesley without issue; and deeper and intimately felt this time.
so he gives the both of them a long, quiet moment to simply lean into each other’s presence. and when that gentleness starts to settle him further; wriothesley steps forward and guides neuvillette into a loose half-turn, his chest lightly pressed to the other’s back as he leads them toward the kitchen.
the task of preparing dinner itself is almost silent, but not in a way that feels lacking. instead of their usual teasing or small talk, there’s the steady comfort of their new bond slipping into place as wriothesley keeps neuvillette close while they clarify the soup stock together. and rather than letting neuvillette jump in with his natural abilities, wriothesley takes his time having them both work through each step of making the raft and filtering out their small mugs of consommé. the closeness makes it easier to stay open through their bond, and the quiet rhythm of cooking helps him learn the feel of neuvillette’s presence in the back of his mind—its edges, its warmth, the way it settles between breaths both literally and figuratively.
even if it’s far too much work for soup in a mug, the ease it brings them carries just as well when he walks them down the hall and into their bed. and though he tries not to let the faint smell of gore bother him, he lets neuvillette wrap his wounds in a fresh roll of gauze and soothe what’s left of any open wounds with a touch of hydro.
by the end of it, wriothesley settles in the middle of their bed instead of either of their usual sides. he noses neuvillette’s pillow once in a small, wordless show of care before looking up at his other half with a quiet breath. ]
Should we start with the heart of the matter then?
[ his mug sits on the nightstand for now. in the small minute he gives himself to sink into the familiar weight of their bed, he lets his gaze drift from neuvillette to the ceiling and pulls together the pieces of what he remembers. the outline comes together slowly, and his stare tightens when it becomes clear where the trouble began. ]
Since everything past coming home to you is more or less a blur.
( in the wake of a desperate flurry to keep wriothesley alive and his raging healing abilities under control, the newfound peace and quiet doesn't sit all that well, out of place and odd. but it is comfortable and yet not at the same time. quite like a newly aligned tooth, perhaps, where one cannot help but brush against it, time and again.
the slow rhythm of readying consomme is welcome, and he allows himself the pleasure and relief of wriothesley's presence and steadiness, up until they make their way to the bedroom, two cups steaming on the nightstand.
he doesn't miss that little gesture, sweet and instinctive, and he wonders if his scent still brings the duke comfort. small blessings.
he doesn't lay beside him in bed, and instead only sits beside him, watching the play of emotions on his handsome face. dearest wriothesley, only just returned from hell and back, and already on a difficult topic. )
I promised I would not let you die.
( he offers quietly, aching. ) And I held you, until your natural soul took over. Still, I held you, and I called upon your friends for help.
I understand how much you dislike having painkillers and sedatives in your system.
[ there’s a flicker of a smile from wriothesley. not quite his usual huff of a laugh, but close enough to show he understands why neuvillette frets over the details. it isn’t wrong for neuvillette to worry about his preference for staying clear-headed in most situations, especially given his past, yet wriothesley still finds the other’s self-imposed standards bordering on the impossible at times. but he recognizes the tendency well enough; wriothesley shares it, after all. although even wriothesley knows when a situation slips beyond his control and requires yielding to someone he trusts.
and he has never sought to chide or correct neuvillette for the way he thinks. wriothesley trusts him as deeply as he trusts himself, and now that the worst has passed, that trust sits openly in the emotions moving along their bond. ]
But even I know there’s a time and place to be reasonable when certain decisions need to be made. You made the right call, on all fronts. [ it is the truth as cleanly as he can offer it; both in the thought itself and in the steady rise of feeling neuvillette can catch through their tether. ] Besides, if you hadn’t stepped in, I can assure you, Neuvillette—I'd have been out of my mind taking swings at you too. Not only from the pain, but the madness that came with it.
[ he hadn’t exactly hidden the early screams or delirious rambling before neuvillette reached out for help. but wriothesley is also grateful those moments of raw vulnerability stayed between them rather than being broadcast to the network, yet he knows he had already been fighting his own delusions before everyone intervened to ease the pain and work at the corruption. ]
So let the punishment fit the crime, I say. [ there is more he could unravel here, more threads waiting to be pulled, but one matter needs addressing first: ] And I apologize for being careless and hasty with helping at the pillar. True to its nature, the corrupted Katalyth started wearing me down the moment I pushed ahead without thinking.
[ leaning on others has never come naturally to him, but it feels like as good a place as any to start. he lifts a hand and settles it gently atop neuvillette’s thigh, offering a quiet, reassuring squeeze before letting his touch simply rest there; knowing at least that it's always welcome without any formal bids or an invitation. ]
( perhaps there really are things they must talk about — the emotional turmoil, the true fear that set in, not for himself, but for wriothesley, which is a first for a creature like him, ageless and enduring. that's what love does to you, perhaps; the stakes are higher. the threat and loss, only able to watch as wriothesley wrests himself from the brink.
and wriothesley, brave, self-aware, acting on the interests of others. there are threads to unravel, even in the curious silences across their bond, but neuvillette only leans in when he feels that warm hand on his thigh, drawing his legs up to settle fully on the bed with him, taking his hand to press a reverent kiss to the heart of his palm. )
You did your very best to help. One cannot punish you for that.
( he says quietly, reaching out to touch his cheek in turn as he wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer. )
[ for once, wriothesley’s side of the bond stalls, falling briefly still before an earnest laugh and a rush of whimsy fill the space again. neuvillette’s candor and sweet affection together always manages to catch him off guard, no matter the circumstances. and now, it's all the more evident between them as they've paired together. ]
And what’s it like to have such a way with words?
[ he reaches up and gently guides neuvillette’s hand from his cheek to the small stretch of marred skin that's visible above the bandages on his chest. it isn’t where the true source of their new bond rests, or the wellspring of his emotions are from, but sigewinne once told him that if two people stand close enough, they often can feel the echo of each other’s heartbeat. of course, he had been skeptical—as he often is with her well-meaning advice—but he's never allowed anyone else close enough to test the theory either. that is, until now. ]
Here I am, pouring my heart and soul into what I did wrong, and somehow you manage to sum everything up in one nice little package.
[ his laugh fades into something steadier, familiar to the quiet that sits between them. whatever abstraction exists in their shared emotions, neuvillette is still able to touch it—to trace the feeling beneath the bandages and healing skin. and it is unmistakable, the way wriothesley softens under that touch. ]
Tired, but more relieved than anything to have made it out relatively unscathed. [ the humor in his voice feels slightly misplaced, yet his ease is obvious in the way his body settles at last, tension unwinding as they lie together with each slow, lulling breath. ] Thanks to you, and your quick thinking, I feel mostly normal again.
( is wriothesley teasing him? has he done something strange that he doesn't like? that split second of silence on wriothesley's side of the bond unleashes a spike of confusion and subsequent anxiety. the ways of humans are still a mystery to him, and their subtleties even more so. wriothesley cloaks himself in good humor and warmth, and a way of deflecting often has others in circles, but then he feels the rush of whimsy come flooding back, and relief tails that feeling, still tinged with gentle confusion.
but mostly dissipates to fondness, pure and unfettered, his fingers tracing light patterns over his chest. he tilts his head, curious at the words he'd chosen, the self-recrimination he hints at. the thanks is nice, but neuvillette is fixated on one particular detail, that wriothesley seems to think what he has done was wrong. )
Do you think you did something wrong because you believe that you've imposed on others?
[ a beat passes as wriothesley reconsiders his earlier reply, wondering if he can pass the admission off as another self-deprecating joke or if it deserves to be addressed plainly. the scrutiny he feels isn’t unfamiliar—sigewinne’s check-ins have the same sort of well-meaning sharpness—but there is little he can hide from neuvillette now, and the other isn’t pressing him into a corner for answers thankfully. this is simply new ground for both of them, something neither has likely shared with anyone else. so it seems only fair to examine the frayed ends of the thread before they try to unravel and make sense of it all together. ]
Well, it was certainly wrong of me to rush headfirst into the situation and make such a reckless play. But as for letting others take on the burden of helping me in the immediate fallout…
[ his emotions settle into a deliberate quiet. beneath the confident veneer he always presents, the feelings underneath shift like water—steady one moment, then undulating or rippling the next depending on what stirs the surface. he glances to the side, as though arranging his thoughts in the space beside neuvillette’s head until they fall into something workable. ]
I’ve spent too long in places where needing something, or someone, gets you noticed in ways that aren’t always safe. [ the wording is precise, meant to show this runs deeper than his history in the fortress. ] So it isn’t about assuming I’ve done something wrong, I suppose. It’s more about understanding the room I stand in. The Fortress watches its warden the way inmates watch one another—for cracks, for patterns, for permission. If I start leaning, even a little, it becomes something they measure. Something they test.
[ he's never once read the letters exchanged between neuvillette and sigewinne through the years, but the iudex knows well enough that the fortress runs on an entirely different set of rules than the courts or the overworld. and wriothesley has always met those rules with pragmatism and a realistic kind of insight. ]
I can offer that sort of comfort for others to rely on, but I’ve never felt free to take advantage of what I've built for myself.
( neuvillette is quietly thoughtful. there is something momentous in the way wriothesley peels back a layer, then another layer of himself just for him. he has always sensed how the man's frequently had others — even him, sometimes — at arm's length, and he understands.
it's a survival mechanism, and it takes as much courage to admit it as he did taking care of the katalyth as best as he can. he can feel the man pull back, like a tide from the shore, but neuvillette allows it. it must be shocking to him, knowing that they're connected without knowing, having to make space for another when he has always been accustomed to his own thoughts. )
You can, now. Here.
( neuvillette will make sure of that for him. wriothesley has spent so long putting others before him, and he can't help but run his fingers through his hair, pressing his forehead through his. )
[ short or trite as the reply might sound at first, it's carried with a smile and a slight lift of his head so he can brush a featherlight kiss against neuvillette's lips when the other leans close. for once, wriothesley doesn’t argue or undercut the moment with a teasing remark; coupled with the weight on his side of their bond settling into quiet acceptance. it’s a welcome reminder that here, in karteria, they are free of titles and the usual expectations—and free to carry on as just themselves. and the longer they live this particular life together, the more wriothesley has come to appreciate every facet of what they share, whether here or back in fontaine.
so he reaches out without further hesitation, with an arm loose around neuvillette’s waist while his other hand slips between their gazes to gently drag a thumb across the faint pinch in neuvillette’s brow, as if trying to ease the worry the other has worn ever since coming home battered earlier in the week. ]
Do know that sentiment extends to you as well. [ the nudge is soft but sincere, underscored by the slow circles he rubs into the dip of neuvillette’s back as the other hand threads fingers through a section of mussed hair, coaxing it straight and smooth again. ] So you can breathe easy now, mon beau. The worst has already come and gone.
[ wriothesley isn’t as direct as neuvillette when it comes to matters concerning certain feelings, but he’s learning to balance the weight of his own ordeal with the chance to guide neuvillette through the sharper edges of human emotion. instead of sidestepping with another self-deprecating joke, he chooses to voice his concerns as plainly as he can. ]
( perhaps he ought to take his own advice, he decides, when wriothesley asks about him. out of instinct, he is prone to telling him that he's fine, because he eventually will be, because no one wants to hear about the new nightmares that plague him, or the newfound, unfamiliar, utterly irrational fear that he might discover him fighting for life again, barely holding himself together.
he feels soothed, just a little, surprised by his touch. he can't help a small smile at that new nickname, and he pulls him closer, like he's afraid wriothesley might slip through his fingers if he lets go. he wakes often, just to make sure that wriothesley is sleeping soundly beside him, unharmed and whole.
neuvillette exhales quietly. ) This is new, we both understand this. I have been... more prone to irrational fears of late, involving you.
( he cups his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his lips, leaning into his lover's touch. ) And I've noticed how you tend to go silent, as well... in here.
( a gentle gesture to his temple. ) Has it been bothering you?
[ it’s a curious thing, to consider emotions as something almost tangible. or at least something another can hear, in a sense, through a bond shared with someone wriothesley holds close. intimacy on its own has become familiar territory for them both by now, but pairing it with a constant, implicit tether makes the experience entirely different.
it may simply be how neuvillette reads him now: the silence he catches is the same stillness wriothesley falls into when he carefully listens, and the muted feelings that follow are the focus he pours into forming a meaningful answer. he’s always been that way—sensitive enough to place himself in another’s shoes, yet grounded enough to tamp down his own feelings so he can examine things as rationally as a human can.
and yet nothing in that quiet pushes neuvillette away. if anything, the shared space of their emotions only settles more comfortably between them, until wriothesley is pulled out of his thoughts by the warmth of a soft kiss and a palm holding his cheek. ]
I don’t think so, no. [ it’s the best answer he has, offered with a contemplative hum and the slow glide of his fingers through neuvillette’s bangs. tenderness softens his expression before his hand slips down to join the other, wrapping neuvillette in a loose hold and drawing him chest-to-chest. close enough to feel the rhythm of the other’s heart through his bandages. ] Though I would ask in return what it feels like to be so steady that your words end up carrying more weight than you might ever intend them to.
[ despite the seriousness of the question, a silent huff of laughter stirs against neuvillette; more felt than heard. it’s never surprising to find the other operating at a different level of calm; being a sovereign and centuries of taking up the mantle of fontaine's judgment have shaped a sort of brevity and clarity that can be both distant and cutting. however, that perspective is one wriothesley thinks he needs in any sort of trusting relationship, and one he has come to love. ]
But like you said, this is still new to both of us. And I think we might need some time yet to get a feel for the ins and outs of our emotions. [ picking apart their bond and chasing it down to the hard truth beneath it isn’t something solved in a single night. but the fact that they stepped into the conversation at all, willingly and openly, is its own kind of progress. draining after everything they’ve endured, yes, but this is a kind of honesty wriothesley trusts neuvillette with. ] However… I think fear is something we both understand fairly well.
[ he doesn’t pull neuvillette into a tighter hold, but one of his hands traces slow circles along the dips of his back, comforting and coaxing almost. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
post-everyone bully wrio for being a lil shounen protag (despair-induced mid life crisis?)
and while it's hard to make spoken promises of prudence in a place like karteria, wriothesley admits easily enough to exercising far more caution moving forward. if only to spare everyone, and above all neuvillette, from worrying themselves sick or find themselves tangled in more corruption in looking after him.
so when wriothesley waves off the last of their sudden guests, largely by walking them to the front gate, he turns to face neuvillette with a rueful smile. tired and still mangled, but overall faring better. he lumbers his way back toward their front door, and the first real emotion he shares between them alone is one of wavering relief. for a split second—an instinct borne of his own sordid upbringing—he seems to steel himself for a real reprimand.. whether with cutting words or something a little more tactile. ]
So, any suggestions on what we do next? [ there's a pause as he steps into the threshold of their home and hovers close. almost bracing himself for any sort of reaction, response, or retort. ] Cleaning is mostly taken care of, thanks to everyone, but then there's dinner to think of still.. and I'm going to assume there's a nice, long heart-to-heart somewhere in there.
no subject
wriothesley, it seems, needs even more time to recover. neuvillette can see it in the way he is more cautious, shedding his usual prowling grace for care. he looks rather the rough for wear, too, fraying at the edges when when seeing their friends off, and neuvillette can't blame him. it is a lot to digest all at once, to know the days you've lost when you have gone under for your own sanity. the agony that neuvillette has known in the past few days has dissipated, and his own healing had done the rest, leaving only bone-deep exhaustion that he sets aside for wriothesley's sake.
the tired, rueful smile he wears is a blessing, too, and neuvillette can't help but offer one in return, twitching lightly at the corners. if the duke expects a reprimand, he will find nothing of the sort; only relief that he has returned, un-tormented by his soul's healing abilities. neuvillette sets the near-decimated first aid kit aside, and makes a note to purchase new supplies, but that is not important now. what matters is that inevitable need for recalibration and a talk: a way to decompress and put to rest everything that has happened in the past week. the choices he had to make, all the truths wriothesley now has to face.
a part of him feels trepidation: had he made the right decisions for wriothesley? and this newfound, strange... connection between them, nascent and unexpected, redefining how they are to relate to each other. he feels the relief like his own and yet not, and he doesn't know what to think of it. what does he do with this, does wriothesley like it?
he stays close to him nonetheless, reaching out lightly to straighten the collar of his shirt. in the face of all the thing they have to address, he sorts out the easiest one first: )
I will heat up the leftovers in the fridge. Shall we speak as we dine? You will need to keep your strength up as you continue to heal.
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it becomes harder to ignore once he notices the rough condition of neuvillette's hand: red and dry from tending to his wounds for days, with lingering traces of corruption from maintaining touch even as wriothesley's soul lashed out at the other in delirium. there's even a faint tremble from the iudex's hand that he can still feel through the fabric, likely from exhaustion and witnessing the same trauma they now share. even so, wriothesley holds himself steady for them both as he closes the front door behind them and leads the way to the kitchen. ]
I could go for one of the soups our friends have made. But really, I wouldn’t complain even if supper were just bouillon à la tasse.
[ while he knows neuvillette typically prefers soups and consommés served in proper tableware, wriothesley suspects the other might sense his desire for something simpler—something pacifying, even. amidst the haze of dulled emotions and the mental blocks he puts up between the pair bond, there's still a quiet longing for the sort of comfort that comes from sipping broth from a mug. something nostalgic and grounding. ]
That way, dinner and our talk won’t be such a hassle while we’re in bed. [ their conversation will be heavy, without question, and the last thing wriothesley wants is for it to taint their appetite or burden what should be a moment of peace. even as he suggests it, he’s keenly aware of how the idea might be taken, and quickly softens the implication. ] I promise it’s more about wanting a change of scenery for us than anything untoward.
[ he has no desire to spend another night in the parlor room. even though it's been scrubbed clean—free of all the viscera that nearly soaked through the baseboard moulding and up the walls—the room remains soured to him in more ways than one. it’s where old memories stirred, drawn up from the dark corners of orphanage halls, and where the echoes of blood and failure clung no matter how hard they all worked to mask it. what he wants now is simple and plainly familiar to them both. and he almost pleads for it in his emotions, silently—just the comfort of their shared room, their 'nest'. ultimately: a space untouched by pain. ]
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as it always is; wriothesley has always presented as the sturdy, immovable force within the fortress, and perhaps now he finds that role within the new boundaries of the relationship they have created for themselves here.
neuvillette nods, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth when he hurries to clarify his intentions, and he gently rests his hand on his with quiet reassurance. )
I understand. Although... there is nothing untoward about us in bed.
( no matter what they're doing in it. it is their sanctuary, their nest, of quiet connection, comfort and peace, however it is achieved: although now it seems they are of one mind, to seek shelter, understanding, and to rest. the parlor room, while impeccably restored by friends, still bears the fresh memories of agony, the sour edge of torment and determination, and he can feel the ache for their sanctuary echoing in their new connection, amidst the ebb and flow of wriothesley's thoughts. )
Would you like to make yourself comfortable while I prepare our cups? I will be there soon.
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No. [ the refusal lingers just a second too long, enough to suggest he’s making a point. but it’s softened by a faint smirk and a light laugh. along with a subtle shake of his head, wriothesley shifts the conversation before neuvillette can interrupt. ] I think the better question is: how would you like your soup tonight, my dear? Strained through the usual cheesecloth, or filtered with a proper raft so you can enjoy a bit of real consommé this time?
[ they're still far from reclaiming the full rhythm of their day-to-day, but wriothesley leans into the domestic moment anyway, his teasing light despite the weight of everything they've endured. they pause at the kitchen entrance, caught between weariness and familiarity. ]
We've had others taking care of us all week. And you’ve done more than enough to help me through my own recovery.
[ to underline his point, he lifts his bandaged arm and gently reaches for neuvillette’s hand. the grip is shaky—his fingers tremble as they curl around the other’s—but it’s a clear, conscious effort. a sign of his usual steadiness trying to reassert itself through the haze of healing. ]
So please, let me move around a bit. Let me return some of that care in kind. Even if it’s just skimming the stock the way you like it.
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neuvillette wonders, however, if feeling the tranquility from him amidst the odd quiet is normal. perhaps that is how whatever this new thing between them works. he's back to being dressed in his usual outfit, buttoned up to hide the new scars on his throat, a mirror of wriothesley's. he had thought little of it at first; perhaps just a result of the violence of sustained healing. when it hadn't gone away, neuvillette had hidden it away to figure it out later.
anyway, now is not the time to think about that when wriothesley refuses him, a welcome echo of himself that makes something in neuvillette's chest loosen. there he is, with that trademark humor and stubbornness. "my dear", he says now, and neuvillette's heart is warm. )
I will defer to your preferences. I find that you have a way of making such fare both exciting and palatable.
( but has he done enough, really? neuvillette has heard what he did and why; that self-sacrificing act as noble as they come, and when his bandaged hand comes to grip his, still shaky and loose, neuvillette closes his around him to provide more warmth, more of their imprinting. he lifts it to his cheek and closes his eyes, resting it on the gauze. )
Of course. That said... you have had a long, long week, my Wriothesley. Perhaps you can order me around while you get things ready.
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so he gives the both of them a long, quiet moment to simply lean into each other’s presence. and when that gentleness starts to settle him further; wriothesley steps forward and guides neuvillette into a loose half-turn, his chest lightly pressed to the other’s back as he leads them toward the kitchen.
the task of preparing dinner itself is almost silent, but not in a way that feels lacking. instead of their usual teasing or small talk, there’s the steady comfort of their new bond slipping into place as wriothesley keeps neuvillette close while they clarify the soup stock together. and rather than letting neuvillette jump in with his natural abilities, wriothesley takes his time having them both work through each step of making the raft and filtering out their small mugs of consommé. the closeness makes it easier to stay open through their bond, and the quiet rhythm of cooking helps him learn the feel of neuvillette’s presence in the back of his mind—its edges, its warmth, the way it settles between breaths both literally and figuratively.
even if it’s far too much work for soup in a mug, the ease it brings them carries just as well when he walks them down the hall and into their bed. and though he tries not to let the faint smell of gore bother him, he lets neuvillette wrap his wounds in a fresh roll of gauze and soothe what’s left of any open wounds with a touch of hydro.
by the end of it, wriothesley settles in the middle of their bed instead of either of their usual sides. he noses neuvillette’s pillow once in a small, wordless show of care before looking up at his other half with a quiet breath. ]
Should we start with the heart of the matter then?
[ his mug sits on the nightstand for now. in the small minute he gives himself to sink into the familiar weight of their bed, he lets his gaze drift from neuvillette to the ceiling and pulls together the pieces of what he remembers. the outline comes together slowly, and his stare tightens when it becomes clear where the trouble began. ]
Since everything past coming home to you is more or less a blur.
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the slow rhythm of readying consomme is welcome, and he allows himself the pleasure and relief of wriothesley's presence and steadiness, up until they make their way to the bedroom, two cups steaming on the nightstand.
he doesn't miss that little gesture, sweet and instinctive, and he wonders if his scent still brings the duke comfort. small blessings.
he doesn't lay beside him in bed, and instead only sits beside him, watching the play of emotions on his handsome face. dearest wriothesley, only just returned from hell and back, and already on a difficult topic. )
I promised I would not let you die.
( he offers quietly, aching. ) And I held you, until your natural soul took over. Still, I held you, and I called upon your friends for help.
I understand how much you dislike having painkillers and sedatives in your system.
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and he has never sought to chide or correct neuvillette for the way he thinks. wriothesley trusts him as deeply as he trusts himself, and now that the worst has passed, that trust sits openly in the emotions moving along their bond. ]
But even I know there’s a time and place to be reasonable when certain decisions need to be made. You made the right call, on all fronts. [ it is the truth as cleanly as he can offer it; both in the thought itself and in the steady rise of feeling neuvillette can catch through their tether. ] Besides, if you hadn’t stepped in, I can assure you, Neuvillette—I'd have been out of my mind taking swings at you too. Not only from the pain, but the madness that came with it.
[ he hadn’t exactly hidden the early screams or delirious rambling before neuvillette reached out for help. but wriothesley is also grateful those moments of raw vulnerability stayed between them rather than being broadcast to the network, yet he knows he had already been fighting his own delusions before everyone intervened to ease the pain and work at the corruption. ]
So let the punishment fit the crime, I say. [ there is more he could unravel here, more threads waiting to be pulled, but one matter needs addressing first: ] And I apologize for being careless and hasty with helping at the pillar. True to its nature, the corrupted Katalyth started wearing me down the moment I pushed ahead without thinking.
[ leaning on others has never come naturally to him, but it feels like as good a place as any to start. he lifts a hand and settles it gently atop neuvillette’s thigh, offering a quiet, reassuring squeeze before letting his touch simply rest there; knowing at least that it's always welcome without any formal bids or an invitation. ]
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and wriothesley, brave, self-aware, acting on the interests of others. there are threads to unravel, even in the curious silences across their bond, but neuvillette only leans in when he feels that warm hand on his thigh, drawing his legs up to settle fully on the bed with him, taking his hand to press a reverent kiss to the heart of his palm. )
You did your very best to help. One cannot punish you for that.
( he says quietly, reaching out to touch his cheek in turn as he wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer. )
Can you tell me how you are feeling?
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And what’s it like to have such a way with words?
[ he reaches up and gently guides neuvillette’s hand from his cheek to the small stretch of marred skin that's visible above the bandages on his chest. it isn’t where the true source of their new bond rests, or the wellspring of his emotions are from, but sigewinne once told him that if two people stand close enough, they often can feel the echo of each other’s heartbeat. of course, he had been skeptical—as he often is with her well-meaning advice—but he's never allowed anyone else close enough to test the theory either. that is, until now. ]
Here I am, pouring my heart and soul into what I did wrong, and somehow you manage to sum everything up in one nice little package.
[ his laugh fades into something steadier, familiar to the quiet that sits between them. whatever abstraction exists in their shared emotions, neuvillette is still able to touch it—to trace the feeling beneath the bandages and healing skin. and it is unmistakable, the way wriothesley softens under that touch. ]
Tired, but more relieved than anything to have made it out relatively unscathed. [ the humor in his voice feels slightly misplaced, yet his ease is obvious in the way his body settles at last, tension unwinding as they lie together with each slow, lulling breath. ] Thanks to you, and your quick thinking, I feel mostly normal again.
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but mostly dissipates to fondness, pure and unfettered, his fingers tracing light patterns over his chest. he tilts his head, curious at the words he'd chosen, the self-recrimination he hints at. the thanks is nice, but neuvillette is fixated on one particular detail, that wriothesley seems to think what he has done was wrong. )
Do you think you did something wrong because you believe that you've imposed on others?
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Well, it was certainly wrong of me to rush headfirst into the situation and make such a reckless play. But as for letting others take on the burden of helping me in the immediate fallout…
[ his emotions settle into a deliberate quiet. beneath the confident veneer he always presents, the feelings underneath shift like water—steady one moment, then undulating or rippling the next depending on what stirs the surface. he glances to the side, as though arranging his thoughts in the space beside neuvillette’s head until they fall into something workable. ]
I’ve spent too long in places where needing something, or someone, gets you noticed in ways that aren’t always safe. [ the wording is precise, meant to show this runs deeper than his history in the fortress. ] So it isn’t about assuming I’ve done something wrong, I suppose. It’s more about understanding the room I stand in. The Fortress watches its warden the way inmates watch one another—for cracks, for patterns, for permission. If I start leaning, even a little, it becomes something they measure. Something they test.
[ he's never once read the letters exchanged between neuvillette and sigewinne through the years, but the iudex knows well enough that the fortress runs on an entirely different set of rules than the courts or the overworld. and wriothesley has always met those rules with pragmatism and a realistic kind of insight. ]
I can offer that sort of comfort for others to rely on, but I’ve never felt free to take advantage of what I've built for myself.
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it's a survival mechanism, and it takes as much courage to admit it as he did taking care of the katalyth as best as he can. he can feel the man pull back, like a tide from the shore, but neuvillette allows it. it must be shocking to him, knowing that they're connected without knowing, having to make space for another when he has always been accustomed to his own thoughts. )
You can, now. Here.
( neuvillette will make sure of that for him. wriothesley has spent so long putting others before him, and he can't help but run his fingers through his hair, pressing his forehead through his. )
You can allow yourself to be comforted.
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[ short or trite as the reply might sound at first, it's carried with a smile and a slight lift of his head so he can brush a featherlight kiss against neuvillette's lips when the other leans close. for once, wriothesley doesn’t argue or undercut the moment with a teasing remark; coupled with the weight on his side of their bond settling into quiet acceptance. it’s a welcome reminder that here, in karteria, they are free of titles and the usual expectations—and free to carry on as just themselves. and the longer they live this particular life together, the more wriothesley has come to appreciate every facet of what they share, whether here or back in fontaine.
so he reaches out without further hesitation, with an arm loose around neuvillette’s waist while his other hand slips between their gazes to gently drag a thumb across the faint pinch in neuvillette’s brow, as if trying to ease the worry the other has worn ever since coming home battered earlier in the week. ]
Do know that sentiment extends to you as well. [ the nudge is soft but sincere, underscored by the slow circles he rubs into the dip of neuvillette’s back as the other hand threads fingers through a section of mussed hair, coaxing it straight and smooth again. ] So you can breathe easy now, mon beau. The worst has already come and gone.
[ wriothesley isn’t as direct as neuvillette when it comes to matters concerning certain feelings, but he’s learning to balance the weight of his own ordeal with the chance to guide neuvillette through the sharper edges of human emotion. instead of sidestepping with another self-deprecating joke, he chooses to voice his concerns as plainly as he can. ]
But how are you holding up, truly?
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he feels soothed, just a little, surprised by his touch. he can't help a small smile at that new nickname, and he pulls him closer, like he's afraid wriothesley might slip through his fingers if he lets go. he wakes often, just to make sure that wriothesley is sleeping soundly beside him, unharmed and whole.
neuvillette exhales quietly. ) This is new, we both understand this. I have been... more prone to irrational fears of late, involving you.
( he cups his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his lips, leaning into his lover's touch. ) And I've noticed how you tend to go silent, as well... in here.
( a gentle gesture to his temple. ) Has it been bothering you?
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it may simply be how neuvillette reads him now: the silence he catches is the same stillness wriothesley falls into when he carefully listens, and the muted feelings that follow are the focus he pours into forming a meaningful answer. he’s always been that way—sensitive enough to place himself in another’s shoes, yet grounded enough to tamp down his own feelings so he can examine things as rationally as a human can.
and yet nothing in that quiet pushes neuvillette away. if anything, the shared space of their emotions only settles more comfortably between them, until wriothesley is pulled out of his thoughts by the warmth of a soft kiss and a palm holding his cheek. ]
I don’t think so, no. [ it’s the best answer he has, offered with a contemplative hum and the slow glide of his fingers through neuvillette’s bangs. tenderness softens his expression before his hand slips down to join the other, wrapping neuvillette in a loose hold and drawing him chest-to-chest. close enough to feel the rhythm of the other’s heart through his bandages. ] Though I would ask in return what it feels like to be so steady that your words end up carrying more weight than you might ever intend them to.
[ despite the seriousness of the question, a silent huff of laughter stirs against neuvillette; more felt than heard. it’s never surprising to find the other operating at a different level of calm; being a sovereign and centuries of taking up the mantle of fontaine's judgment have shaped a sort of brevity and clarity that can be both distant and cutting. however, that perspective is one wriothesley thinks he needs in any sort of trusting relationship, and one he has come to love. ]
But like you said, this is still new to both of us. And I think we might need some time yet to get a feel for the ins and outs of our emotions. [ picking apart their bond and chasing it down to the hard truth beneath it isn’t something solved in a single night. but the fact that they stepped into the conversation at all, willingly and openly, is its own kind of progress. draining after everything they’ve endured, yes, but this is a kind of honesty wriothesley trusts neuvillette with. ] However… I think fear is something we both understand fairly well.
[ he doesn’t pull neuvillette into a tighter hold, but one of his hands traces slow circles along the dips of his back, comforting and coaxing almost. ]
Did you want to talk about it some?