[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.
[ normally, larus would have argued the point about dorian getting his way – especially when blood is involved – but he doesn't have the desire to prod at him like he usually would. he isn't even sure he should touch him as he offers his hand, hesitant for several seconds that appear obvious before slowly shifting forward to get to his feet. once he's upright, he lets his fingers slowly slide over dorian's palm until he's lightly gripping his wrist and finally, finally gets free of that room.
he stands there for a moment, still feeling strange, and before he can stop himself or question whatever it is he's doing, he steps into dorian's personal space to rest his forehead against his shoulder. a gentle point of contact, a way to ground his thoughts and whatever else is threatening to rise up and swallow him. ]
I couldn't stop, [ he says, trying to explain. ] It was like nothing else mattered.
[As soon as Larus' forehead falls against his shoulder, Dorian enfolds the vampire in his arms. He holds him close, taking some solace in the gesture himself. It's done, everything's over, and the external damage is nothing that can't be fixed or forgotten-- although he assumes Larus won't see that the same way he does. Any internal damage is something else, but whatever Larus was before was right-- he's tough. There's a reassurance and feeling of solidity in that knowledge as he holds the vampire. Turning his head slightly, Dorian slips fingers into the dried, and slightly crunchy hair falling against the back of Larus' neck, offering soothing touches.]
You came through it, and you're still here. [He's glad.]
[ it feels good to have any sort of touch that reminds him he isn't a complete monster, easing an arm around dorian's waist to hold him there. even if he tried to pull away, larus wouldn't let him. having been in that room for so long, it's a reminder that things like this are going to be short. even shorter when there's the possibility of either of them disappearing without notice, a thought that he pushes aside with everything else that's happened to him (and them) in the last week or so. ]
With your help. You could have left me out there.
[ it's not exactly thanks, but it's close. and again, it's the second time dorian's saved him in some way. it's a pattern larus doesn't want to repeat, feeling indebted to him along with the guilt that's always there at the edges. ]
[There's still a vague knot of tension in Dorian's chest that's slowly untying itself as they stand wrapped up together in the kitchen. Several days both standing on the tip of a knife and feeling protective has left an edge, but this isn't the place for those feelings now. He opens himself to Larus holding onto him instead-- he'll stand here as long as it takes.]
I could have, but I wouldn't. [He turns his head further to press his lips against the side of Larus' head.]
I'm not going to next time, either. [Even if it means throwing him in another cage.] I'd trust you to do the same for me.
[ it's almost sweet to hear those things, but it's nearly too much after having spent eight extremely long days trapped in a room with no one other than himself. and the worst version of himself at that, recalling just how easy it would have been to disappear and never come back if he'd gotten free. he's made ties with dorian in a way he hadn't expected to find, and it's almost like a betrayal to him, after everything dorian's done. and says he will do.
larus' eyes open at the feel of that mouth to his skin, the warmth of his breath. he'd like to be close to him, but he also remembers the feeling of shoving dorian against the wall with an intention to take more than just his body. ]
I would, but it might not end the way you'd want it to. You shouldn't continue risking yourself for me.
[He has a feeling where those words are coming from, but they're still unpleasant to hear.]
You're dangerous, [Dorian acknowledges in an even tone. He understands that. He has no doubt that if he'd let Larus out of the portrait room one even one day ago, the vampire would have wasted no time tearing into him.
It's just that it isn't a deterrent.] I've told you before that you can't hurt me. The same goes for killing, too. Nothing can.
[ this is almost difficult to listen to after what's happened, slowly drawing back to look at him. larus still, undoubtedly, wants more. he'd like to wrap himself around dorian and distract them both for even a little while, but he can't. there's so much more he wants to say too, though his thoughts are drawn back to the room he's just left. with dorian's words, he knows that must be tied to the hidden painting inside; he just isn't entirely sure how. (why go through so much to protect it otherwise? not that larus would ever ask.)
instead, he gently touches the curve of dorian's jaw. ]
There are other ways to hurt someone without leaving a mark on them. [ and it's not pleasant. ] I want to keep you safe, Dorian.
[ but one way or another, he fears he won't be able to. ]
[Larus isn't wrong about there being wounds worse than any dealt to the flesh. There's still a temptation to insist that he's unbreakable and come through more in over a century than Larus could probably conceive of, but right now he'd rather try and keep the other man from pulling away emotionally.
Frowning, he watches Larus' face closely.]
Then keep me safe. [He catches Larus' hand lightly and wraps fingers around it.] If you fall into a pool of blood, I'll pull you out, and you can keep going from there.
[ their experiences shape them, of course, and it isn't the first time that he's reminded of that. different worlds, different lives. somehow, they've come together in this one, and he should really do his best to remain present with him. this room and this building—they're the closest thing larus has had to a real home in a very long time, which makes it difficult to adjust to. but he's made a conscious effort to keep communication open between them, to always come back to dorian, and he shouldn't shut it down now, glancing at the hand curled around his before meeting his eyes. ]
I don't know where to go from here. [ he needs to think about what's happened, revisit the places he'd killed those people in. but — ] Will you stay?
[ even if dorian didn't look the part of someone planning to go out, he would have asked. this is as close to vulnerable as he can be right now. ]
[He had been planning on heading out for the morning, but those plans stuttered to a halt when Larus had come back to himself. Now he just wants to be present with the other man.]
I'll stay, [he confirms. The hand at the base of of Larus' neck shifts slightly then, brushing up against blood-hardened strands. His fingers pause. It's strange, but it's this small touch that makes him suddenly aware of the amount of dried blood caking various parts of the vampire's form. Getting rid of that may be the easiest first step to deciding what to do next.]
A shower might be a good place to start, if nothing else. [A slightly wry, but still softer than usual, look tugs at his features as he looks Larus over.] I can take your clothes and either send them for cleaning, or throw them out, too.
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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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he stands there for a moment, still feeling strange, and before he can stop himself or question whatever it is he's doing, he steps into dorian's personal space to rest his forehead against his shoulder. a gentle point of contact, a way to ground his thoughts and whatever else is threatening to rise up and swallow him. ]
I couldn't stop, [ he says, trying to explain. ] It was like nothing else mattered.
[ like he didn't care at all. ]
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You came through it, and you're still here. [He's glad.]
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With your help. You could have left me out there.
[ it's not exactly thanks, but it's close. and again, it's the second time dorian's saved him in some way. it's a pattern larus doesn't want to repeat, feeling indebted to him along with the guilt that's always there at the edges. ]
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I could have, but I wouldn't. [He turns his head further to press his lips against the side of Larus' head.]
I'm not going to next time, either. [Even if it means throwing him in another cage.] I'd trust you to do the same for me.
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larus' eyes open at the feel of that mouth to his skin, the warmth of his breath. he'd like to be close to him, but he also remembers the feeling of shoving dorian against the wall with an intention to take more than just his body. ]
I would, but it might not end the way you'd want it to. You shouldn't continue risking yourself for me.
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You're dangerous, [Dorian acknowledges in an even tone. He understands that. He has no doubt that if he'd let Larus out of the portrait room one even one day ago, the vampire would have wasted no time tearing into him.
It's just that it isn't a deterrent.] I've told you before that you can't hurt me. The same goes for killing, too. Nothing can.
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instead, he gently touches the curve of dorian's jaw. ]
There are other ways to hurt someone without leaving a mark on them. [ and it's not pleasant. ] I want to keep you safe, Dorian.
[ but one way or another, he fears he won't be able to. ]
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Frowning, he watches Larus' face closely.]
Then keep me safe. [He catches Larus' hand lightly and wraps fingers around it.] If you fall into a pool of blood, I'll pull you out, and you can keep going from there.
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I don't know where to go from here. [ he needs to think about what's happened, revisit the places he'd killed those people in. but — ] Will you stay?
[ even if dorian didn't look the part of someone planning to go out, he would have asked. this is as close to vulnerable as he can be right now. ]
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I'll stay, [he confirms. The hand at the base of of Larus' neck shifts slightly then, brushing up against blood-hardened strands. His fingers pause. It's strange, but it's this small touch that makes him suddenly aware of the amount of dried blood caking various parts of the vampire's form. Getting rid of that may be the easiest first step to deciding what to do next.]
A shower might be a good place to start, if nothing else. [A slightly wry, but still softer than usual, look tugs at his features as he looks Larus over.] I can take your clothes and either send them for cleaning, or throw them out, too.
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