The Taste of Revenge

The anger that had simmered within the lapidarist soon sizzled out as he allowed the other to turn to his side, stare at the darkness that was left where no bioluminescent mushroom could reach. He got to his feet now, his knees popping ever so slightly in the silence Ivory was so known for.

He returned a moment later, his hands gripping the steaming mugs that held the breakfast tea. He set his own on the bedside counter with little care before very gently pressing the other mug into his lover's back, just enough for the other to finally feel a source of heat in the otherwise damp and chilly cave system Ivory called his home . He set it gently on the other dresser on Elior's side after reaching over his lover's frame, his touch gentle all the while.

"You may only be able to lay in bed alone for now but acting like a petulant child won't help either of us, Elior." Ivory stated simply as he sat on the bed, sipping his own tea absentmindedly. "Once you are stronger, once you've healed up, then I won't need to be by your side. For now, laying in bed getting -" he paused, putting a finger to his nose to plug it for emphasis, "- quite pungent won't be something I allow."

A small smile rested on his lips, however halfhearted it was. Nonetheless he held it as a hand gently caressed Elior's hair. He knew he had to approach the situation carefully; in his exhaustion, he assumed he could simply shut down like he had with his father. Evidently, Elior was far from the man who raised him and shutting off emotionally wouldn't help, however much easier it would be. Granted, at what point did Elior make anything easy?

"Of course, I can't make you do anything you don't want to. If you want to rot in this bed, so be it. It's that, or you allow me to help you get up and we can step one foot at a time. I don't mind carrying you if I must, not to mention I would like to see you naked again." He suggested, his tone positive and almost babyish as he continued to dip.
 
For a moment, one spanning several seconds that felt as though they dragged out far longer than the actual timeframe of them, Elior didn't move. His body remained still, eerily still in fact, though the only indication that he hadn't gone to sleep was the rigidity of his limbs; the distinct lack of relaxation within them as he clutched the blanket tightly in his fists, preparing himself against the fear that Ivory, impatiently and on the verge of losing his temper, would simply seek to tear it away from him to nudge Elior into doing what he wanted.

And, admittedly, what Elior really ought to do.

Yet, however prone to stubbornness he was, the former King finally rolled onto his back and shot his head to the side to glare up at his lover - just because he had caved and decided to do what Ivory suggested didn't mean he would make that easy on him. On the contrary, even if he quietly knew he had to get back out of bed and start moving if he wanted any chance at a relatively quick recovery, he wasn't going to give Ivory any of the satisfaction that came with him admitting he was right; that he knew best.

He doubted he would hear the end of it any time soon if he gave Ivory that particular crumb of approval.

"For once, would you please get your mind out of the gutter? Your constant lusting over me really gets tiresome sometimes," muttered Elior as, with a sharp intake of breath to brace himself for the discomfort the movement would cause, he pressed his hands flat against the bed at his side and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, a smile breaking on his lips in triumph. The upturn in his mood allowed him to soften his gaze towards the other - even if it had occurred seconds prior with his light, reciprocated teasing.

Regardless what he had said, he would never actually tire of hearing Ivory flatter him with praise - just as he would never tire of showering Ivory with similar compliments.

"I don't need you to carry me, I'd only feel like an infant being carted around. No, let's... try walking first. One step at a time, like you said," he confirmed as he reached across for the tea - or what passed as tea down in The Dark. His lip immediately curled at the sight of it in his hands, his mind inevitably racing to compare it to the sweet tea he enjoyed each morning alongside his breakfast and a newspaper... but he couldn't afford to be fussy. If his life was in The Dark now, he had to quickly acquire a taste for what the land provided... even if he would always be at a disadvantage to the locals, having experienced the fine foods that made up The Light.

Taking a sip, he dramatically hummed in an attempt to sound enthusiastic - however unsubtle the grimace pulling at his lips might have been. It didn't stop him from pressing his lips back to the edge of the cup, blowing softly into the liquid to cool it a little before moving for a second sip.

A sip that wouldn't arrive when thudding against the home's front door, hard and loud, was a fist; a noise accompanied by the booming tone of one of the neighbours.

"Oi, you're wanted up at the surface," the man called, hesitating with an unsubtle ear pressed to the door to take in any noise from within before he grunted, deciding it wasn't worth his time - as long as he passed on the message, he couldn't get in trouble if Ivory didn't venture up to meet those at the surface, could he? "You might want t' get your ass up there, kid."
 
For the briefest moment, briefest millisecond it felt, Ivory was able to relax. For the first moment in years he almost felt the pain in his shoulders dissipate. If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could picture this being the future; the two of them, enjoying life in The Dark. He had taught Elior how to fish and enjoy the culture of his people, getting to witness the man dressed in the finest linen and jewelry. He could picture a child by their side, given how often children lost their parents to work related incidents. A daughter, maybe a son too.

He could pick up where his family tree seemed to end, using the remains of it all to make something beautiful. Rather, that would have been the case if the knock on the door hadn't jolted the lapidarist from his daydream.

Ivory hesitated initially, frozen as his eyes peered through the window. Inhaling sharply, there was a clear level of anxiety within the man; how couldn't there be? The last thing he had done on the surface was capture the soon to be King. He had been pardoned and put his trust that Elior would keep him safe. Evidently, the latter may not apply.

"… do you know as to why I'm due at the surface?" Ivory finally asked once stepping into the front doorway. He peeled open the door to see the messenger; an older citizen of his town, though not by much. Running a hand through his midnight locks. He stood before the other, emotionless in his approach.

"Who sent you to tell me? I no longer make commission for the Royal family, so…" he continued, his voice returning to the classic gravelly sound in clear confrontation.
 
"I dunno, kid. Let me think a second, would 'ya?" Grunted the man in reply, not having expected Ivory to make an appearance so soon and thus, he remained unprepared for the intensity that often encompassed the other's general demeanour, finding himself lacking for a response for a few long, awkward seconds.

Eventually, the older of the men rolled his shoulders back until he heard a satisfying crack and, with it, a sigh escaped him, the removal of the ache allowing his mind to refocus on the message that had been relayed to him from someone else, who had subsequently been told by another person, but the details, however vague and lacking specifics, remained the same.

"Think they mentioned a carriage. An' guards, definitely guards. Might be royal; might not be, but they're from The Light alright. An' they asked for you. That much I know for a fact," he added as he scratched at his cheek, the noise bristling audibly as a result of his unshaven state. After a moment, however, the moment ceased as he regarded Ivory with an expression of concern mixed with suspicion, the latter perhaps stronger than the former.

After Ivory's past antics, was he wrong for fearing that the other had gotten himself mixed up in something troubling again if it risked incurring the wrath of The Light; of a King he, like all in The Dark, thought remained sat on the throne. Oblivious to the nature of the relationship between Ivory and Elior, he like many others was grateful that the latter pardoned Ivory, showing him a kindness that he was perhaps justified in depriving him of when he had been kidnapped and held against his will--

But, thinking Elior was still on the throne, alive and well, was the older man dramatic for fearing that the King's kindness would show itself a second time if Ivory had gotten mixed up in his old tricks?

"You ain't been up to those shenanigans of yours again, have 'ya?" He questioned with appropriate brutishness, his lips twisting in concern as his mind replayed how swiftly the door had been shut behind the other, concealing the inside from view. He wasn't a paranoid man by nature, but Ivory's past and the sudden arrival of guards (possibly royal) at the surface requesting his presence naturally sent the mind whirring.

"Kid, listen. Whatever you've gotten yourself mixed up in again, the guards are here. They ain't going 'til you talk to 'em. You fix this, y'hear? 'Cos it's The Light. The Council ain't got shit to deal with their gunpowder and their swords so... so you fix this."
 
The owlish nature of any citizen of The Dark wasn't unusual but the imagery was only fueled as Ivory's head tilted, face otherwise emotionless as he watched his elder speak. On the outside he seemed calm, albeit a bit surprised by the accusations.

In reality, there was an immeasurable anger deep within Ivory that was threatening to emerge as the thought of the royal guard emerged from his mind. He pictured Elior, intentionally playing to his heart and using him to gain access to The Dark and conquer it like he knew the man wanted. What if he was to be the scapegoat; the martyr meant to be crucified for actions made so long ago?

Blink. A chuckle, calm and quiet in nature. Ivory wanted nothing more than to scream and cry and dig his sharp nails into the flesh of these guards but he had a responsibility now; a responsibility to keep Elior safe and healthy, no matter what it took.

"I can assure you, I have been keeping to myself since that day, Kingfisher," Ivory reassured as he placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and even offered it a squeeze. What may be seen as assurance to his neighbor was in reality a way to keep the lapidarist from breaking apart then and there, his stomach churning.

"If The Light wants to check up on me, I won't stop them. I'll fix all of this, I promise. That seems to be my new career lately; I have to fix quite a bit, don't I?" He hummed. "I'll head up once I'm done this morning. Now, moving forward, can you perhaps call a bit quieter in the future? I don't need a heart attack." He teased with the smallest of smiles. Lucrative and forced.

"Now. I'm going to finish up my breakfast. I appreciate you caring about me." He added before stepping back into the doorway of his home, lips pursed.
 
The unease that ran throughout the neighbour didn't suddenly vanish at Ivory's insistence that there was nothing to worry about. On the contrary, he found himself more wary than ever, a cautious glance sent in Ivory's direction as he tried, genuinely and desperately, to allow himself to be reassured - but he wasn't.

How could he be when there were guards from The Light lingering at the surface, for reasons unknown?

But it wasn't his business to get involved. Perhaps he ought to have exhibited a little solidarity with Ivory, align himself to the cause if there was a chance that the situation would spiral into full out warfare against the two nations-- but that required involving himself far more than he actually cared to do. No, he was simply the messenger and even that felt like too much of an involvement on his part. He just wanted to get on with his day and live out the hours as he had done for decades - without anything threatening to deter or disrupt the comfort of that routine.

Did he care about Ivory? Perhaps, at least in the same manner he cared for all in The Dark-- but he wasn't going to throw himself into the line of fire to spare the other if it came down to it. All he would do was provide him some advice, tell him to fix things (as if him simply demanding it would alleviate whatever trouble he genuinely believed Ivory had gotten himself into again) and walk away before he got pulled in any further.

The unease, however, was mirrored in Elior as he held his breath, listening in to the conversation as best he could from the bed. Words were muffled, some lost altogether as a result of the low grumbles and the distance itself, but he picked up enough to get a handle on the situation brewing above on the surface - all it took was the mention of a 'guard' needing to speak to Ivory for the former King to sit back against the bed, nibbling at the inside of his cheek in sudden panic.

Was it possible they knew he wasn't dead; that he was seen hobbling to The Dark and venturing into the caves a week prior? Would they imprison him for dereliction of duty, for faking his death, for abandoning family and kingdom alike?

Worse still, would they think Ivory had been in on it at the start and demand his imprisonment?

Or even his execution--

The thought was one that made Elior shudder, the image of Ivory at the guillotine being one that came sharply to mind before he could stop it. The nauseated feeling it brought up made him grimace, his head dipping a little as he greedily took in a few breaths to calm a panic he despised himself for feeling - because nothing made him feel more pathetic, more weak, than the worry coursing through his veins.

"...What are you going to do?" He inquired the moment he felt Ivory's presence return to the room, lifting his eyes to meet his. Not caring to feign ignorance about what he had overheard, he set his gaze on Ivory with a frown. "You cannot seriously consider going up there to meet them - they're here for a reason, aren't they? I've been seen or-- or maybe they just suspect that I came here, or even that you somehow plotted for me to be brought-- I don't know, Ivory, but you can't go up. I-- What if you don't come back?"
 
Ivory's feigned smile didn't drop initially as he returned to the seat beside the bed. He said nothing at first, perhaps allowing the illusion of listening to his lover when in reality there wasn't anything Ivory could hear outside of his own panicked thoughts. His brain scanned each and every scenario moving forward. His eyes, in a state of miosis rather than their large and vibrant orbs, locked in a patch of bruises on Elior's skin.

Pinpoint black orbs grew to their owlish nature the minute they took Elior's face in, leaving Ivory to realize his smile was beginning to hurt. Slowly that smile faded, his lips pulled into a grimace in disgust at his own situation. With a sharp inhale, he moved to take Elior's hand in his; whether it be to comfort his lover of comfort himself, that didn't seem to matter.

"Well, let's look at this reasonably," Ivory began, voice rough as his throat seemed fo be coated with phlegm. He cleared it briefly. "If I were to stay here and ignore the situation, some soldiers may try to venture down here and die. Their deaths could be seen as a direct attack on The Light even if it's just their bad luck. Then your former people will declare war. If I were fo go to the surface, explain that you weren't hurt by my hand… I suppose I have no proof though, do I? The only proof I would have would to bring you with me," he explained, more so to himself as he avoided Elior's eyes.

It was becoming hard to breathe for the lapidarist but he tried not to bring attention to the teetering of his panic attack. No, he needed to be strong for Elior while he was recovering -

"I believe I am fucked, no matter what." He stated honestly, his tone warbling as he finally met eyes with Elior again. He scooted a bit in the chair just enough to be able to rest his head close to Elior's arms. He hoped to be held as he tried to keep his hands from shaking.

"I think I should go to the surface, present mg case. No one will know you're here. Besides, Kingfisher won't convince all of The Dark that you're the king, right? Thsg being said, you're far too injured -" he continued, his voice growing more and more unstable as he squeezed his eyes shut
 
"And what if I go to the surface and show that I am still alive and they didn't even suspect that to be the case? What if they are here for a reason entirely separate from my 'death' and we expose it all inadvertently and-- and land ourselves into trouble unnecessarily?" Countered Elior after a further moment of silence, his own voice shaky and thick with the weight of the emotion now starting to rage unsubtly through him.

Unlike Ivory, he wasn't capable of keeping himself held somewhat together, not when the worst of all possible thoughts were running through his head: thoughts of a lifetime imprisoned, an existence without Ivory who he saw hanging, body left on display as a celebratory sign of The Light's success in defeating some malevolence that threatened their way of life; that had caused no end of chaos to their treasured royal family.

His panic didn't prevent him from taking in the other's need for comfort. Without hesitation, he adjusted his position to take Ivory into his arms, cradling him close to his chest as his head rested lightly upon his own, fingers gently and methodically running through the other's dark locks. As he did so, he fell into silence once again to contemplate what they could do and how to approach the situation-- even if there was only really one outcome.

Ivory would have to go to the surface to greet the guards, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

The contemplation came from whether he would do so alone or not and what he would say when he arrived there; how he should prepare himself for the scenario that would play out when he did emerge from the tunnels of The Dark.

And admittedly, Elior didn't know what to say. Other than comforting murmurs, he had nothing to provide; nothing to offer, at least of substance to provide Ivory with a semblance of confidence. He wanted to cling onto him, refuse to let him leave the security of his arms - but if Ivory didn't release himself and venture up to greet those awaiting him, wouldn't they just storm The Dark in search for him?

That would only lead to more trouble.

"I... I'll stay here. Until we know for certain that they think me still alive, I'll wait for you here. For all we know, they still think I am dead - and it would be silly for us to expose the truth needlessly. I... I want to go with you, I want to defend you-- and I will if they do think I'm alive. If that is the case, I will fight to defend you with every fibre of my being, Ivory, I-- I promise you. But there might be an innocent explanation for their arrival, mightn't there? They-- They might simply wish to-- to question you, nothing more and nothing less. They might leave you alone after a few minutes and you can come home and we can get on with our lives," babbled Elior, his initial attempt to offer advice up calmly gradually deteriorating into a panicked ramble, his voice growing steadily shakier the longer he continued and realised, ultimately, that he was living in a dreamland; that royal guards wouldn't arrive and demand Ivory's presence for some innocent reason.

"You might not come back," he repeated after a moment, pulling back from their embrace to lock his eyes onto Ivory's. "Ivory, what happens if you don't come back? I can't live without you; I won't. I... I would rather death than a life without you here with me."
 
The well known lapidarist sat there for a moment, enjoying the closeness of his lover; savoring the embrace as he felt his head cradled. Ivory didn't speak at first, preferring to stew in the silence he had grown so used to - though upon meeting Elior's eyes, he wasn't able to keep the tears in. The only evidence said tears were even a thing being the way his cheeks felt misty in the already moist air, and the brief warp of those owlish eyes.

A sigh escaped, heavy in nature. In all honesty, Ivory wasn't sure whether or not his feelings were hyperbolic but he was growing more and more tired and, for the briefest of moments, he wondered how it would have been to finally rest in the form of a just death. Alas, Elior was here now and there was no way he could simply back out and end it all.,

A small smile could be briefly seen in the dark, if Elior looked for it, but it was gone the moment he felt the other's hands on his cheeks. The sight of the hardened man's cheeks smushed might give a sense of playfulness in any other situation and while he wanted to roll his eyes and dismiss the other's worry… he couldn't.

He had been to the surface once before and that had been enough. Ivory knew that no matter how the tides turned, he would never belong there. So, with rapidly moving eyes that took in Elior and his condition in the dimly lit home, he offered a simple nod at first. His rough hands moved to take one of Elior's, where he happily interlaced their fingers.

"I might not come back, this is true. That being said, I kidnapped a prince and still made it home, did I not? This time there isn't actually any blood on my hands," he reminded with his voice just above a whisper. He nestled into Elior's touch more, his desperation unsubtle, "Unlike some of us, I do know how the tunnels work. I will go to the surface, see what they're worried about. Explain my innocence and be back no later than tomorrow evening, hm? I can cook you up some meals before I go so you don't have to worry about going hungry. I do have an acquaintance- the lapidarist apprentice I've been helping - who I am certain would help you need it. Ruby is a brilliant girl, really. We'll be… fine, my love.@,
 
Elior wasn't naive enough to believe he would be okay without anyone's assistance, however disgruntled and genuinely pathetic he felt at having to come to that realisation. His pride would only serve to deteriorate his condition if he chose to rigidly stick with it so, however keen he was to dismiss the offer of help and maintain that he was perfectly capable of caring for himself, he knew that he would only do himself a disservice and jeopardise his recovery if he did.

Besides, the likelihood of Ivory venturing off and leaving him to his own devices within the home was slim. Regardless what Elior said, regardless how passionate his defence, he already knew Ivory would land him with the presence of this so-called apprentice - so arguing (however keen he might have been to do so) was a waste of much-needed energy.

He didn't want a stranger fussing over him, pestering him every so often with peppered questions about how he was doing and if he needed help, but better to endure the annoyance of it than be left alone.

He would prefer Ivory's presence above everyone else's, only yearned for him to be at his side - but evidently, such a luxury was once again robbed from him, from them.

"You had better return, I will hold a grudge against you for the rest of our lives together if you do not - be that our mortal lives or whatever plane exists beyond this one. I will be a pain, lambasting you for failing to come home at every opportunity, so unless you wish to spend decades enduring those whines, you come home Ivory. Okay? I... I don't care what you have to do, what you need to say, just make sure you get back," he emphasised, attempting to lighten the heavy gloom of the situation by introducing a little levity; something light and tantamount to the usual teasing quips that formed their interactions--

But inevitably, emotion arrived to interrupt, cutting through the chuckles with a shakiness, a quivering, that Elior couldn't quite disguise in time. He coughed in an effort to compose himself, reluctantly pulling back out of Ivory's embrace with a firm nod.

"You won't have time to prepare these meals. If they're up there waiting, best not to piss them off by prolonging the inevitable. Sooner you leave, Ivory, the sooner you can return-- so send in that apprentice and she can cook up something for me if need be, though I can't imagine she quite has your skill. I can't guarantee I will eat anything she prepares, but that is an argument I'm sure you'll land me with when you return," he snorted, the hand residing at Ivory's cheek quietly withdrawing when he had reached the conclusion that clinging to the other, encouraging him to stay, would only have detrimental effects if those waiting for him at the presence were left stood around for longer than they expected to be.

"...No, you'll be fine. I will be fine. This is just... a little blip we have to overcome, that is all. You'll be home tomorrow evening and I will be clean and refreshed and-- eager to show you how desperately I missed having you at my side."
 
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