So... This is a little excerpt from my current NaNoWriMo work, it's untitled. It's about these two people in one body, Thaselres and Thaseldes, Thaselres is very protective and moody, Thaseldes is very stupid and clueless. Please ignore typos/grammar mistakes, as I'm looking for concrits of the overall scene. This is where Thaselres, a guy who is not unwilling to 'tell it like it is' and basically has trust issues with just about everyone, sits down and finally has a serious man-to-man talk with the King. Of course, things go a little awry...
It's not very good, I admit... But I was convinced to post SOME of my works here, so... please be gentle.The next thing Thaselres remembered was that memory. He was awake now, a hand stroking over his pale face and over his silver eyes, urging him to awaken. Opening his silver eyes, the Confidant arose and stared at the King, his gaze displeased and full of questions he was once more determined to figure out. Opening his mouth to speak, the man's gloved hand covered his lips before noise came out. Growling, he bit the man's fingers again, pulling away only when he felt it was safe to. The man laughed, always entertained, amused by the constant resistence.
The boy was not so pleased at this laughter, pulling away with a snarl. "Don't you ever fucking sleep?!" His shout echoed off the walls in multiple pitches and languages, echoing forever. Looking over the walls that constantly changed, he felt nausea coming on and chose to look only at the King, he was no better but at least he did not give him the sensation of vomit inducing vertigo.
"I gave up my dreams long ago. Perhaps if you listened to my story when you first asked instead of interrupting rudely you would already know that." The Mad King's reply was gentle and sweet, ringing with a kitten's mewling and one got the feeling of soft fur upon their skin when he spoke. How magical, the King's ability to mix and meld the senses into a glorious mix of confusion, bewilderment and sensual overload. However, this mystic nature was lost on his dear Confidant, for the boy was too busy with the pain in his chest and the anger in his heart to see the beauty around him. Was that not the way of life?
"There's no fucking way that could be real." He snarled lightly, biting down on one of his own arms to let his blood flow. The blood surged out of him, leaping much like a predatory cat upon prey. The King seemed to see this coming, as he raised one hand and snapped his fingers, the blood suddenly coagulating and falling, hardened into blood crystals and useless to the boy. More blood surged, and the King simply opened one palm, absorbing the blood without fear or injury. This brought a large reaction from the child. "What the fuck?!"
The King stood and walked over to the child, his warm hand running through soft hair. "I told you." His fluffy voice rang between them and the sudden silence when there before was chaos of blood and battle. "You can't hurt me. Ever." He smiled and leaned down to kiss the child on the forehead lightly, his lips leaving an imprint on the mind. Thaselres snarled and felt suddenly sedated, a strange contentness flowing through his veins and encouraging him to trust this stranger, ask no more questions, and merely accept his path before him as a shadow.
He was not about to fall so quickly. snarling widely, he pulled away and shook himself of this spell. "Fuck you!" His roar echoed the walls, giving him a confusion of his own voice, but changed in pitch and the sound waves gliding over his skin as if corporeal. It was sensory overload and the brain could only react in one way. Buckling over, the child tried to throw up, but nothing came . Of course, he hadn't eaten since the last time he threw up... he probably should eat... Though this thought did not occur to him until after the first empty retches. The King was soon by his side, covering his eyes and ears with warm gloved-covered fingers.
Yet still, despite being deaf and blind, he could clearly see and hear the King, in his mind's eye, as clearly as he could see and hear his other half.
"Calm down. If you panic, Insanity will provide a reason. If you calm, it should not harm you. Though you still hold onto your sanity with a death grip, I will protect you when you begin to be overwhelmed. Though you believe me a terrible monster of a man, I really just want the best for you and the child you try so desperately hard to hide from me. Now, calm down, I will release you once the waves of nausea pass." The man spoke clearly, softly, gently, in a manner that was almost brotherly and concerned. It mentally flicked off all switches of doubt for the man, and for a moment, Thaselres found himself wondering why he had ever been so paranoid about the King in the first place. After all, if he was really as cruel as he imagined, would the man protect him if he even looked the least bit sick?
He tried not to think about it. Instead, the Confidant breathed inwards and outwards, lunges expanding and contracting and his blood flowing oxygen throughout his body. His spastic stomach slowly calmed down and he began to breathe normally once more. Those hands slowly pulled away once he relaxed, moving downwards to his chest and belly so that strong arms could haul him up and hold him closely against what felt like a soft bed that smelled faintly of morning dew. He heard no heartbeat from his man, no sounds of breathing, just the rustle of clothes. How was the King even alive? Did he truly give up as much as he said he did? In the timeless history that had fallen onto legend, how much was truth and how much was false? Perhaps this legend held more truth than lies.
In this world where things need not make sense, who was he to question? The self-doubt ate at him, gnawing slowly with a sensation of a light aching, and he placed one sleeve-covered hand at his chest, breathing inwards and outwards to quell the surging emotions within, the painful parts of Insanity he had pulled from his other half, the constant fears, the frightening hallucinations, the prevalent paranoia. How much of his judgment was his own? Was he wrong, to suspect? This moment of silence between the two was not awkward, instead it was contemplative, a boy who had barely lived, in the arms of a man who had lived perhaps far too long.
Thaselres sighed and got up once he felt the world stop spinning, aided by the man he so hated beforehand. He grumbled something along the lines of 'you bastard', but sat down in a far calmer manner. The King too, sat by his side and stroked his hair again, comforting, understanding. The guardian who wanted to badly to protect, what would he do now? The King leaned over and whispered in his ear, so close that his breath (which smelled faintly of metal) puffed onto his skin, frigidly cold.
"Thank you for understanding. I have a task I wish to ask of you."
The boy nodded quietly, closing his silver eyes, he had to, it would be easier to concentrate on that voice without seeing this realm of Insanity he was in. The voice continued, without any echoes, without any trills or extra sounds. It almost sounded boring now, with how many times he heard it followed by so many sounds in the past. Yet he threw these thoughts to the wind, he had to focus on the words.
"You must protect the child you hide within yourself. He will be critical in my plans for the future and... he is not strong enough to do it himself. The Source came to me today, in a vision. The wheel of Fate is turning, and we must rise to meet it." The King's words were soft and gentle, holding an undertone of power. He took the boy's shoulders so that they were face to face, silver eyes, now open, staring into blonde hair. "You must protect him, Thaselres. He muse rise to meet his fate, and you must make sure nothing can knock him down until that time comes. It is your fate to do so, it is why you exist, it is why you are strong and he is weak. You must make sure this child of the source does not fall. Do everything in your power to keep him innocent until it is impossible for you to anymore. Only tell him what he needs to know, lie to him if you need to, just keep him hoping there is a better future awaiting, no matter what happens. Do you understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" His voice grew to a frantic, hissing whisper, until the last sentence was spoken with such ferocity that Thaselres swore he felt the man's spittle on his face and moved to wipe it away, but he was shaken again. "DO YOU?!"