[When there's an opening clear enough to get Larus through it, Dorian's going to yank his hand back, and then use what he's hoping is a moment's surprised advantage to give the vampire a hard and sudden shove to get him far enough over the threshold to trip the room's magics.
There's no particular sign of anything as Larus stumbles his way in, but he might feel a very slight increased pressure in the air around his body. A subtle sensation of not being welcome, and surrounded by something on all sides.
When Dorian's done, he exhales, and shakes the tension out of the hand he'd gripped Larus with.]
It's done. [There's no feeling of victory in it, either.] Don't bother trying to push out because you're not going to be able to unless I help you out myself.
[ it's just enough to catch him unaware, thrown off by the sudden change in mood, and before he can even do anything, larus knows what room he's in. there's a glance around, taking in what he can see, but he's annoyed enough that dorian had tricked him that he staggers his way to the door until he can't seem to breach whatever is keeping him from leaving the room. ]
What the hell are you doing, Dorian? [ he grits his teeth, feeling the pressure in his jaw. ] If you don't open this door, I'll tear you apart when I get out of here.
[ a pointless threat since he'd just leave and never come back. ]
[The only thing in the room is the enormous portrait, covered over by a sheet and entrapped within a clear and enchanted display case. Even the wall behind it the case is enchanted, but no one without a sensitivity to it could guess at the extensive work Grayson had done by simply looking at it or the room itself. All the room looks like is just that: a small, mostly empty room, with a single divan and the large enchanted display case inside.
Just beyond the barrier that separates him from Larus, Dorian slips his hands into his pockets. His eyebrows rise slightly when the other man threatens him, but otherwise he doesn't react.
He's still not sure exactly what or who he's dealing with here, but it's sort of Larus, so he'll start with an apology.]
Sorry about the confines, I really am. You caught me by surprise. [By being kind of insane.]
You've had enough blood to be in there comfortably for some time, I imagine --something that should normally be the case, if you ask me, but I'm not going to fight about that with a vampire that's against it. I know better. But this does give us some time to figure out what's happened.
You aren't yourself, obviously. [He gestures.] And the city's to blame.
Knowing you, you wouldn't be much happier trapped in there than you would be running around the city like a wild animal, but at least in here you aren't going to do damage that you can't undo later. I don't think you'd thank me under better circumstances, but it's the best I can do for you right now.
[That's his reasoning for trapping him.]
So, seeing as we're not going anywhere for a while, I want you to help me help you.
larus glares at him, the drop of his brow heavy as he makes a few more attempts to step forward before slipping to his knees. part of him is furious for this, reminded yet again of sun and all the times he'd managed to trap him because larus hadn't been steps ahead of him. he shouldn't have trusted dorian is what he's realizing now, curling his fingers against his thighs and staring hard at the spot in front of him. almost petulant. ]
So your solution is to keep me here and let me starve until you get answers?
[ larus scoffs, unable to help it. ]
I'm not helping you with anything. I'm fine.
[ he feels fine. he's never felt better, if he's being honest. he's well-fed and functioning more proficiently than he has in a long time. there's nothing wrong with him as far as he can tell. so why is dorian blaming the city and asking these pointless questions? is this what it's going to be like for the next several months until their contract expires?
[All Dorian does in response to being demanded to let Larus out is pull up a chair.]
You aren't going to starve. I don't know how much you remember, but I haven't seen you take much more blood than mine in the weeks that we've known each other.
My guess is that you starve yourself on a regular basis.
[There may not be much point in reasoning with this(?) Larus, but they've come this far.]
You left the suite at night two days ago. Did you go hunting directly after that?
[ this time, he is being petulant, and larus lifts his head to stare at him. part of him wants to crawl through that door and rip his pretty throat out, but it wars with the part that craves the gentleness he knows dorian is capable of giving him. ]
What else would I be doing with my time? There's plenty of people in this city that wouldn't be missed if they happened to disappear.
You're right. On both counts. And even if people do miss them, all of that fades and becomes meaningless in no time at all. [But that's something he thinks, not something Larus thinks. Larus is the one who was ready to venture right back into the Down to check on people he didn't know well after getting halfway mutilated there.
It's a strange thought to have suddenly, but Dorian finds himself wondering idly if this is somehow the portrait's fault. Has the presence of his soul in the suite acted like some kind of infection under the city's influence? He glances at it, frowning thoughtfully, before his gaze shifts back to Larus again.]
So after you went out, you don't remember meeting anyone or anything unusual happening to you?
[ he wants to say something about not caring if anyone misses them. would anyone miss the man wearing gang colors he drained and left for dead? or the woman and her partner he'd stumbled across in a blood-soaked haze of delirium? what about the couple he'd just finished when dorian had texted him? so many people that no one is ever going to think about again, and they're having this conversation.
larus follows dorian's gaze for a moment and then looks back at him without missing a beat. ]
The only unusual thing that's happened to me is this. [ there's a half-gesture at the room and dorian himself. ] Why does it matter to you anyway?
[ not that he actually wants to ask, but he is curious. ]
[ he doesn't know if he likes that answer, but it's worth a try switching tactics if he has the chance. ]
Either you still think I'm soft, or you believe there's someone who could hurt me. [ a moment, and there's a flash of fang when his lip curls. ] The only one hurting me right now is you.
[ dorian can do whatever he wants with that information. ]
[Not a good sign then. That's fine. It isn't like he was expecting this to be easy when there doesn't seem to be any real reason for Larus suddenly going cold.]
In my world we call this 'tough love', and for now you're just going to have to endure it. [He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs.]
But for the record, I don't think you're soft. I think you care. [A tragic flaw for an immortal in his eyes, and especially for a vampire.] And in a few days you're going to wake up with a hell of a remorse hangover.
The only thing I care about is tearing you to pieces when I get out of here.
[ his voice is low and borderline emotionless, giving dorian one last look before turning his back to him. he isn't interested in seeing his face right now or hearing him, though it's impossible given how he automatically listens to his heartbeat. it's something larus instantly hates, though only for the sole reason that he can't escape it.
he's in dorian's prison, at dorian's mercy, but he can wait it out. he's patient. ]
Cathartic, I'm sure, but pointless. [Larus can't kill him, not that he's fully aware of that, and he'd just heal.
But until the vampire refuses to keep replying, Dorian's going to keep prompting him.]
Is a willingness to hunt and kill the only things different about yourself that you remember from the last two days? [If he remembers anything at all.]
[ is it pointless? larus wouldn't tire. he'd eventually find a way to destroy him so he couldn't lock anyone else up. ]
I don't know what you mean by different. [ there had been that hunger, but that's not much different than usual. he looks over his shoulder at him. ] Do you want to know how many I killed before I came here?
Anything about how you felt or feel now that's different than what you're used to.
[Dorian uncrosses his legs, running a thumb thoughtfully along the line of his jaw. His gaze stays fixed upon Larus' face as he thinks about that offer of information.
It doesn't matter much in the moment, except in one specific way in which it very much does.]
You can tell me. I'm more interested in who you killed, [Are they important enough to warrant damage control, or nameless people any of the many vampires in the city could have killed?] if you knew them, and where.
I'm not really interested in talking about how I feel.
[ larus catches that movement out of the corner of his eye though and turns partially towards him. is that why he'd locked him in this room? in case someone decided to hunt him down? it's honestly laughable, the slightest twitch of his lips in an effort not to smile. ]
Do you know other vampires who remember the names of those they've killed? I don't really care to know my food on a personal level.
On a whim, Dorian rises from his chair and moves to stand before the barrier. He stops within two feet of Larus, a more intimate than conversational distance if the magics weren't separating the pair of them. He knows he's distracting, at least in the sense of the endless beating of his heart.
Dorian folds his arms behind his back.]
Where, then? You remember where you've been over the past two days, I trust. The Up? The Down? The Tower? [Probably not the tower. There would have been a disturbance and then cleanup crews.]
[ larus immediately tunes into dorian's movements, desperate to be free of this room, but it's clear by his posture that he's not going to be let out until something happens. whatever that is. but those questions grate on his nerves, jaw tight as he tries to decide what to tell him. the truth? or something that will satisfy him enough to be left alone? ]
Ask someone else if you're that concerned about it.
[ leave dorian to think about what he might have done because he's finished talking for now, which is punctuated by the way he turns away from him again—both an ending to the conversation and a visible way to show he's not afraid of dorian whatsoever. ]
[Dorian watches him turn away, frowning with concentration.]
I intend to. [More like listening to the city's various news channels on the stereo and reading the network to check for posts about violent vampire murder, but it'll be enough. There still enough lingering fallout and chatter related to Hellboy's rampage that the only murder victims likely worth enough attention to be announced will be anyone important.
If there's nothing over the next day or two, he'll take that as a sign that nobody cares.
From the way Larus turns away from him, it's easy to see that this conversation is over. Dorian lingers by the barrier.]
If you change your mind and feel like playing nice, tell me. [Dorian takes a step away, and then turns.] The sooner you're done being this, the sooner you get out of that room.
[He'll wait another moment to see if that gets a reaction, before turning away and heading into the living room to find wherever he threw his phone.]
[ larus doesn't even grace that with an actual response.
done being like what, he almost asks, but it's not important enough to follow up with, deciding to simply bide his time until he can be free of this boxed prison. it's difficult to tell the hours considering, though he follows the movements and noises he occasionally hears in the apartment to get an idea. breakfast, tea, dinner, sleep. the routine doesn't alter much unless dorian decides to leave, and then, it's larus trying to fight his way out of the room with no avail. at least a few days pass like this before he tries to verbally coax his way out.
dorian doesn't believe him, naturally, because he snaps at him, and he's left to his own devices once more.
every time he walks by and sees him, he glares so hard it would have given him a headache if he'd been human.
he gets used to this rhythm until the hunger starts to crawl up into his throat, days later, and at one point, larus considers tearing into his own wrist to smear his blood everywhere in protest. if he bleeds out enough, perhaps dorian would take pity on him and let him feed. at the very least. but that idea fades just as quickly as he has it, purposely exhaling as he sits by the barrier to the door and stares out across the room. he's alone. like always, he's alone, and no one is going to care if he doesn't make an appearance or speak to them ever again.
if he just closes his eyes —
larus blinks, and the desperation to feed is muted by the fact he's more than used to it. this isn't even the worst it's ever been, leaning back into the wall at his back and sagging under his own weight as the days leading up to all of this seep through him in bright technicolor. the people he's killed, the taste of it still somehow lingering on his tongue. what he'd said to dorian. he swallows and grimaces. he needs to get out of this place. he needs to leave. ]
Dorian. [ his voice is a little dry from not having spoken in a while. so, he tries again, louder. ] Let me out.
[Dorian's starting to get used to the steady, mundane and yet low-grade horrible, routine of waking up each day to a sulky vampire shut up in the portrait room. The past few days have been unrevealing, frustratingly so, and Dorian's patience with the entire situation --with watching Larus get progressively more morose and, as he imagines it, hungry-- is wearing thin. Attempts to find anything out have been less than fruitful, and the most helpful information he's received in days is that the majority of the people on the network say that this kind of sudden and random personality shift is an idiosyncrasy of the city and something to wait out.
Something to wait out.
He doesn't do waiting. Especially not in a case like this.
So on the morning of the 8th day of Larus' confinement, a restless and frustrated mood is gnawing at the edges of Dorian's mind, and his shoulders have a gentle tension pulling at them. He enters the kitchen in simple yet elegant dress in preparation for leaving later that morning, giving himself time before he turns to see how worn down Larus looks today. The electric kettle clatters lightly as he prepares it for tea.
The vampire speaking to him again is something newer. Dorian hesitates, and then glances over at Larus when he speaks. It's unexpected that the tight glare that's usually waiting for him is missing from the other man's face, but only just so. After eight days he has to be exhausted. Dorian exhales and turns away to pull out a mug from a cupboard.]
Why? [His tone is dry, unaffected.] So you can rip my throat out?
[ he can understand the frustration, but his mind is so numb to much else that he isn't going to focus on it. yet, the insinuation of that causes him to wince, replaying all their exchanges at the very beginning of this seemingly long bout of imprisonment. apologizing would be the next step, of course. there's only so much dorian might believe unless he convinces him that he doesn't belong in this room with its sad little walls though.
that he isn't going to try to murder him or anyone else. ]
Because I don't want to be alone in here.
[ it's much more honest than even larus is expecting, but it doesn't make it any less true.
if kept confined, all he has are his thoughts, and there's nothing good about them right now. he thinks about what he's done and said and can't seem to find anything pleasant about it, wondering why and also knowing it's probably this place that's finally (and slowly) getting to him. and if dorian expects him to beg to be set free, he just might do it. ]
The creature he's come to think of this version of Larus has made several attempts at coercing him over the course of a few days, all of them ending in shows of moroseness, biting frustration, or petulance. Pitiable words is a new one. It's not in character. Dorian breathes out, uncurling his fingers from the handle of the mug on the table, his posture opening slightly.
It's been eight days. Is that enough time?
Dorian abandons the kettle to start heating, and makes his way across the room and over the front of the barrier separating him from Larus. He crouches down to look the other man in the face, searching the vampire's expression with a fixed, intense gaze.
He's almost hopeful, and Dorian's smoother and rounder tone, unlike the more edged one he's been using to wrangle with the creature, carries that emotion. He won't rule out that this is a new ploy, but it's a possibility mostly resting on his automatic cynicism in the face of every circumstance.]
Do you feel different? [If it's Larus, he'll probably have the memories that will make that question make sense. If it's not, he doubts he'll be able to answer.]
I'd rather not rip your throat out, if that's what you mean.
[ it's an answer that comes automatically, though it's immediately followed by so much regret that he has to look away from dorian and across the room instead. he considers moving to sit on the divan, but he'd rather stay on the floor until he's allowed to leave, hoping that there will somehow be enough evidence to convince him to let him out. there's not so much remorse flooding him as there is guilt, hating that such things have transpired between them when they could have been avoided entirely.
is this really what it's going to be like to be contracted? ]
I shouldn't have said that to you. [ his voice is quiet, clearly tired. ] And you shouldn't have promised me your blood.
[ just saying that word makes him feel... strange. disconnected and terrified all at once. they might have trust, but what if something like this happens again and larus doesn't let dorian trick him into this room? what if dorian's imprisoned instead and kept somewhere just to feed him when he wants a taste? his expression wavers at the thought and he tries to hide it by ducking his head, only realizing afterward that there are bits of red dried into the ends of his hair. ]
[The relative outpouring --such as it is coming from Larus-- of tightly-expressed feeling registers with a wave of relief. Even the way the vampire's looking around suggests to Dorian a descending of heavy thoughts, and it's enough to be convincing. Dorian breathes out what feels like days of concern and frustration at being unable to do anything to change what was happening.]
You weren't going to get it. [His tone is confident on that point, almost informative.] I tend to get my way in these kinds of situations.
[Dorian rises to his feet, and bends to reach a hand out through the magical barrier and hold it out in front of Larus.]
Take my hand and step through the barrier while you're holding it. [His tone is smoother now, softer. This has been a terrible handful of days for both of them, and it's starting to hit properly now.] You'll be able to walk through.
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There's no particular sign of anything as Larus stumbles his way in, but he might feel a very slight increased pressure in the air around his body. A subtle sensation of not being welcome, and surrounded by something on all sides.
When Dorian's done, he exhales, and shakes the tension out of the hand he'd gripped Larus with.]
It's done. [There's no feeling of victory in it, either.] Don't bother trying to push out because you're not going to be able to unless I help you out myself.
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What the hell are you doing, Dorian? [ he grits his teeth, feeling the pressure in his jaw. ] If you don't open this door, I'll tear you apart when I get out of here.
[ a pointless threat since he'd just leave and never come back. ]
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Just beyond the barrier that separates him from Larus, Dorian slips his hands into his pockets. His eyebrows rise slightly when the other man threatens him, but otherwise he doesn't react.
He's still not sure exactly what or who he's dealing with here, but it's sort of Larus, so he'll start with an apology.]
Sorry about the confines, I really am. You caught me by surprise. [By being kind of insane.]
You've had enough blood to be in there comfortably for some time, I imagine --something that should normally be the case, if you ask me, but I'm not going to fight about that with a vampire that's against it. I know better. But this does give us some time to figure out what's happened.
You aren't yourself, obviously. [He gestures.] And the city's to blame.
Knowing you, you wouldn't be much happier trapped in there than you would be running around the city like a wild animal, but at least in here you aren't going to do damage that you can't undo later. I don't think you'd thank me under better circumstances, but it's the best I can do for you right now.
[That's his reasoning for trapping him.]
So, seeing as we're not going anywhere for a while, I want you to help me help you.
[He frowns, leaning in slightly.] What happened?
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larus glares at him, the drop of his brow heavy as he makes a few more attempts to step forward before slipping to his knees. part of him is furious for this, reminded yet again of sun and all the times he'd managed to trap him because larus hadn't been steps ahead of him. he shouldn't have trusted dorian is what he's realizing now, curling his fingers against his thighs and staring hard at the spot in front of him. almost petulant. ]
So your solution is to keep me here and let me starve until you get answers?
[ larus scoffs, unable to help it. ]
I'm not helping you with anything. I'm fine.
[ he feels fine. he's never felt better, if he's being honest. he's well-fed and functioning more proficiently than he has in a long time. there's nothing wrong with him as far as he can tell. so why is dorian blaming the city and asking these pointless questions? is this what it's going to be like for the next several months until their contract expires?
trapped in this room for no reason? ]
So let me out. [ his tone is sharper this time. ]
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You aren't going to starve. I don't know how much you remember, but I haven't seen you take much more blood than mine in the weeks that we've known each other.
My guess is that you starve yourself on a regular basis.
[There may not be much point in reasoning with this(?) Larus, but they've come this far.]
You left the suite at night two days ago. Did you go hunting directly after that?
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[ this time, he is being petulant, and larus lifts his head to stare at him. part of him wants to crawl through that door and rip his pretty throat out, but it wars with the part that craves the gentleness he knows dorian is capable of giving him. ]
What else would I be doing with my time? There's plenty of people in this city that wouldn't be missed if they happened to disappear.
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It's a strange thought to have suddenly, but Dorian finds himself wondering idly if this is somehow the portrait's fault. Has the presence of his soul in the suite acted like some kind of infection under the city's influence? He glances at it, frowning thoughtfully, before his gaze shifts back to Larus again.]
So after you went out, you don't remember meeting anyone or anything unusual happening to you?
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larus follows dorian's gaze for a moment and then looks back at him without missing a beat. ]
The only unusual thing that's happened to me is this. [ there's a half-gesture at the room and dorian himself. ] Why does it matter to you anyway?
[ not that he actually wants to ask, but he is curious. ]
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It seems worth pushing the envelope, and it's a truth he doesn't mind offering anyway.]
Because it matters to me if you end up hurt because you can't stop yourself.
[Because some people are worth saving and remembering while the rest fall like grains of sand through an hourglass.]
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Either you still think I'm soft, or you believe there's someone who could hurt me. [ a moment, and there's a flash of fang when his lip curls. ] The only one hurting me right now is you.
[ dorian can do whatever he wants with that information. ]
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In my world we call this 'tough love', and for now you're just going to have to endure it. [He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs.]
But for the record, I don't think you're soft. I think you care. [A tragic flaw for an immortal in his eyes, and especially for a vampire.] And in a few days you're going to wake up with a hell of a remorse hangover.
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The only thing I care about is tearing you to pieces when I get out of here.
[ his voice is low and borderline emotionless, giving dorian one last look before turning his back to him. he isn't interested in seeing his face right now or hearing him, though it's impossible given how he automatically listens to his heartbeat. it's something larus instantly hates, though only for the sole reason that he can't escape it.
he's in dorian's prison, at dorian's mercy, but he can wait it out. he's patient. ]
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But until the vampire refuses to keep replying, Dorian's going to keep prompting him.]
Is a willingness to hunt and kill the only things different about yourself that you remember from the last two days? [If he remembers anything at all.]
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I don't know what you mean by different. [ there had been that hunger, but that's not much different than usual. he looks over his shoulder at him. ] Do you want to know how many I killed before I came here?
[ because he will. ]
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[Dorian uncrosses his legs, running a thumb thoughtfully along the line of his jaw. His gaze stays fixed upon Larus' face as he thinks about that offer of information.
It doesn't matter much in the moment, except in one specific way in which it very much does.]
You can tell me. I'm more interested in who you killed, [Are they important enough to warrant damage control, or nameless people any of the many vampires in the city could have killed?] if you knew them, and where.
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[ larus catches that movement out of the corner of his eye though and turns partially towards him. is that why he'd locked him in this room? in case someone decided to hunt him down? it's honestly laughable, the slightest twitch of his lips in an effort not to smile. ]
Do you know other vampires who remember the names of those they've killed? I don't really care to know my food on a personal level.
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On a whim, Dorian rises from his chair and moves to stand before the barrier. He stops within two feet of Larus, a more intimate than conversational distance if the magics weren't separating the pair of them. He knows he's distracting, at least in the sense of the endless beating of his heart.
Dorian folds his arms behind his back.]
Where, then? You remember where you've been over the past two days, I trust. The Up? The Down? The Tower? [Probably not the tower. There would have been a disturbance and then cleanup crews.]
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Ask someone else if you're that concerned about it.
[ leave dorian to think about what he might have done because he's finished talking for now, which is punctuated by the way he turns away from him again—both an ending to the conversation and a visible way to show he's not afraid of dorian whatsoever. ]
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I intend to. [More like listening to the city's various news channels on the stereo and reading the network to check for posts about violent vampire murder, but it'll be enough. There still enough lingering fallout and chatter related to Hellboy's rampage that the only murder victims likely worth enough attention to be announced will be anyone important.
If there's nothing over the next day or two, he'll take that as a sign that nobody cares.
From the way Larus turns away from him, it's easy to see that this conversation is over. Dorian lingers by the barrier.]
If you change your mind and feel like playing nice, tell me. [Dorian takes a step away, and then turns.] The sooner you're done being this, the sooner you get out of that room.
[He'll wait another moment to see if that gets a reaction, before turning away and heading into the living room to find wherever he threw his phone.]
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done being like what, he almost asks, but it's not important enough to follow up with, deciding to simply bide his time until he can be free of this boxed prison. it's difficult to tell the hours considering, though he follows the movements and noises he occasionally hears in the apartment to get an idea. breakfast, tea, dinner, sleep. the routine doesn't alter much unless dorian decides to leave, and then, it's larus trying to fight his way out of the room with no avail. at least a few days pass like this before he tries to verbally coax his way out.
dorian doesn't believe him, naturally, because he snaps at him, and he's left to his own devices once more.
every time he walks by and sees him, he glares so hard it would have given him a headache if he'd been human.
he gets used to this rhythm until the hunger starts to crawl up into his throat, days later, and at one point, larus considers tearing into his own wrist to smear his blood everywhere in protest. if he bleeds out enough, perhaps dorian would take pity on him and let him feed. at the very least. but that idea fades just as quickly as he has it, purposely exhaling as he sits by the barrier to the door and stares out across the room. he's alone. like always, he's alone, and no one is going to care if he doesn't make an appearance or speak to them ever again.
if he just closes his eyes —
larus blinks, and the desperation to feed is muted by the fact he's more than used to it. this isn't even the worst it's ever been, leaning back into the wall at his back and sagging under his own weight as the days leading up to all of this seep through him in bright technicolor. the people he's killed, the taste of it still somehow lingering on his tongue. what he'd said to dorian. he swallows and grimaces. he needs to get out of this place. he needs to leave. ]
Dorian. [ his voice is a little dry from not having spoken in a while. so, he tries again, louder. ] Let me out.
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Something to wait out.
He doesn't do waiting. Especially not in a case like this.
So on the morning of the 8th day of Larus' confinement, a restless and frustrated mood is gnawing at the edges of Dorian's mind, and his shoulders have a gentle tension pulling at them. He enters the kitchen in simple yet elegant dress in preparation for leaving later that morning, giving himself time before he turns to see how worn down Larus looks today. The electric kettle clatters lightly as he prepares it for tea.
The vampire speaking to him again is something newer. Dorian hesitates, and then glances over at Larus when he speaks. It's unexpected that the tight glare that's usually waiting for him is missing from the other man's face, but only just so. After eight days he has to be exhausted. Dorian exhales and turns away to pull out a mug from a cupboard.]
Why? [His tone is dry, unaffected.] So you can rip my throat out?
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that he isn't going to try to murder him or anyone else. ]
Because I don't want to be alone in here.
[ it's much more honest than even larus is expecting, but it doesn't make it any less true.
if kept confined, all he has are his thoughts, and there's nothing good about them right now. he thinks about what he's done and said and can't seem to find anything pleasant about it, wondering why and also knowing it's probably this place that's finally (and slowly) getting to him. and if dorian expects him to beg to be set free, he just might do it. ]
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The creature he's come to think of this version of Larus has made several attempts at coercing him over the course of a few days, all of them ending in shows of moroseness, biting frustration, or petulance. Pitiable words is a new one. It's not in character. Dorian breathes out, uncurling his fingers from the handle of the mug on the table, his posture opening slightly.
It's been eight days. Is that enough time?
Dorian abandons the kettle to start heating, and makes his way across the room and over the front of the barrier separating him from Larus. He crouches down to look the other man in the face, searching the vampire's expression with a fixed, intense gaze.
He's almost hopeful, and Dorian's smoother and rounder tone, unlike the more edged one he's been using to wrangle with the creature, carries that emotion. He won't rule out that this is a new ploy, but it's a possibility mostly resting on his automatic cynicism in the face of every circumstance.]
Do you feel different? [If it's Larus, he'll probably have the memories that will make that question make sense. If it's not, he doubts he'll be able to answer.]
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[ it's an answer that comes automatically, though it's immediately followed by so much regret that he has to look away from dorian and across the room instead. he considers moving to sit on the divan, but he'd rather stay on the floor until he's allowed to leave, hoping that there will somehow be enough evidence to convince him to let him out. there's not so much remorse flooding him as there is guilt, hating that such things have transpired between them when they could have been avoided entirely.
is this really what it's going to be like to be contracted? ]
I shouldn't have said that to you. [ his voice is quiet, clearly tired. ] And you shouldn't have promised me your blood.
[ just saying that word makes him feel... strange. disconnected and terrified all at once. they might have trust, but what if something like this happens again and larus doesn't let dorian trick him into this room? what if dorian's imprisoned instead and kept somewhere just to feed him when he wants a taste? his expression wavers at the thought and he tries to hide it by ducking his head, only realizing afterward that there are bits of red dried into the ends of his hair. ]
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You weren't going to get it. [His tone is confident on that point, almost informative.] I tend to get my way in these kinds of situations.
[Dorian rises to his feet, and bends to reach a hand out through the magical barrier and hold it out in front of Larus.]
Take my hand and step through the barrier while you're holding it. [His tone is smoother now, softer. This has been a terrible handful of days for both of them, and it's starting to hit properly now.] You'll be able to walk through.
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