The Taste of Revenge

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"Raw cave spider?" Confirmed the doctor, his eyes widening and brows raising much like Ivory's had, clearly impressed. He hummed briefly in feigned consideration as he used that distraction to cut free Elior's shirt. He moved carefully to remove the fabric that seemed to stick to the seeping wound, his expression still seemingly contemplative as he did so.

Said doctor - Doctor Adima - may not be like the doctors on the surface but if there was one man Ivory trusted his life with, it would be the doctor. The lapidarist could recall running to the man's business crying, sobbing, after twisting his ankle while running through the very tunnels he had done so just a bit prior to return Elior to safety. He had been to his house nearly every day in the past two weeks as his father's condition deteriorated quickly.

If there was a chance for Elior to survive, it was in the hands of Doctor Adima and Ivory would go to the grave believing that.

Ivory tilted his head slightly upon hearing the slight growl in Elior's voice at the mention of his new name. It was subtle, but there was certainly the faintest air of mockery to the action - light teasing. It wasn't meant to be below Elior but to see him be so salty while he was on the verge of death? It earned an audible laugh, heard only barely as the man dipped out with a large bucket to retrieve more water, leaving the Doctor alone with the (former?) King.

"Well, no. That's awfully impressive, Lucien - assuming it wasn't a domesticated spider, those things pack quite the punch. What would've gotten you mighty sick is getting properly bit by one, depending on the species. Granted, not all spiders are poisonous - I'm sure Ivory can find you some reading material, eh?" He finally, clearly trying his best to keep the air light as he took in the wound. The way his eyes darted from the bullet to Elior's own pair of eyes and back was... slightly concerning, despite his casual disposition. He rummaged through his bag for a moment, pulling out bottles - medicine from the surface, mostly, as well as some jarred ointments.

"Well, there's good news and bad news of course. Good news, eating raw spider leg won't kill you - though I can only imagine how horrible it tasted. No, you'll survive. Bad news? You will be down here for quite awhile. Not only that, but I recommend that you get plenty of that rest. Whoever it is waiting for you in The Light will have to wait for you to get stronger, hm?" He reassured, a toothy smile on display - sharp, just as Ivory's were. The sharp row certainly would put distress on anyone other than a citizen of The Dark but it was all in good jest.

"You aren't actually supposed to remove the bullet in situations like this, but I think it's the biggest reason behind your infection so - perhaps taking a nap is for the better," he murmured, his tone apologetic as he pulled out the bottle of antiseptic and tweezers. He glanced over briefly to Ivory, that of whom entered with a sharp exhale as the metal bucket sloshed lightly. He froze upon meeting the doctor's gaze before quietly apologizing and setting the metal bucket upon the hearth.

"Should I send a letter to The Light of where you are? Get someone to help lead you back out?" The doctor asked, his tone soft.
 
"Awfully impressive? Well, I suppose I'm just an awfully impressive fellow," drily responded Elior without a hint of sarcasm. The overwhelmingly arrogant nature of the comment would have sounded humorous from most people's lips, playfully offered up to break the tension in the room -and the severity of the situation- with the levity it would provide - but most people didn't possess the sort of narcissism that characterised Elior.

Because out of his lips, the words were uttered without a playfulness that invited a laugh at his expense; they were spoken with entire seriousness, backed up by the confidence that came with the man's belief that he was special; that he was superior. Having ventured so close to death, perhaps others would reflect upon the manner in which they had lived their lives and resolved to change it now a second chance at it had been granted; to take the opportunity to change their mindsets and be a better, more whole person in the days that followed.

But Elior felt no such demand. If anything, he felt far more inclined to boast; to talk Ivory's ears off about how remarkable it was that he had wandered so far into The Dark, bloodied and wounded, emotionally and physically exhausted, and still survived. No, the situation he had yet to even see through was simply a catalyst for all his narcissistic traits to intensify; something to show to doubters that all his claims of being some amazing being were now backed up by physical proof, rather than simply the ferocity of his vocalisations on the matter.

He wasn't out of the woods yet, far from it - but a cocky smile pulled on his lips regardless, a belief settling in that he was on the road to recovery; that the worst had concluded.

Granted, the sight of the tweezers caused what little colour had returned to his cheeks to vanish in an instant, his own eyes wide in unease.

"I, um... no, it's quite alright. I'm sure this kind man Ivory, my hero, will pass on the word to my loved ones waiting for me in The Light, when the time comes. I intend to recover fully before I contemplate anything of the sort," he responded swiftly, after briefly glancing to his hand; to his wedding ring. His words to the Doctor were meaningless, no intention held on Elior's behalf to have his family alerted to the fact he was alive and -potentially- on the mend. No, as far as he was now concerned, his ties to The Light had been severed in favour of the life with Ivory he had always longed for, and even if the thought of them grieving him caused a genuine grimace to settle on his lips, wasn't that better than the knowledge that he had willfully abandoned them for Ivory?

His decision had been made in the heat of the moment, when he wasn't thinking straight - but he knew he didn't regret making it. How could he when he was with Ivory again; when they had a chance to build a life together after years of absence and dwindling hope? It was that realisation -that he was back with Ivory- that caused him to lift his eyes from his wedding ring to his lover, a smile breaking on his face. He knew there was a story told to the Doctor, one he was intended to go along with for the sake of ensuring his actual identity wasn't uncovered, but he couldn't help himself but to turn to Ivory, a hand extended towards him.

"Will you hold my hand? Not for... comfort or support, I'm not a crybaby, but... it would be helpful, just in case this hurts quite a bit more than I anticipate," he murmured in an effort to play off his fear casually, with a coolness. It faltered the instant he made the mistake of glancing at the tweezers, his eyes clenching shut in immediate response. "...Is this going to hurt? Because, to be quite honest with you Doctor I rather enjoy pain but not in this context."
 
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"Oh, well, as long as-" began the Doctor as he offered a bit of distance, though Ivory didn't needed to be told otherwise. No, he moved from the hearth quickly with a warm cup of tea. Well, 'tea' was subjective; it was mostly dried mushrooms with some dried mint from the surface, but it was the best Elior was getting on sudden notice. With one hand holding the ceramic mug carefully, the other practically snatched Elior's hands with force.

As light as the Doctor was trying to make everything, the lapidarist had seen far too much death in people who were supposed to get better to be comfortable with their situation. He gripped Elior's hand, taking in the details - a soft snort escaped at how soft the man's hands still were, if not a bit scraped up now. Did royalty really do nothing all day? Because with how smooth the former King's hands were, he wouldn't be surprised if he was told he didn't even cut his own meat.

He shivered at the thought of 'crab'.

"Have some tea too, yeah? It isn't terribly hot, didn't have enough time to sit in the fire, but I'm sure it's brewed enough," Ivory reassured as he let go of the other's hand - if only briefly - to help open his jaw. It was meant as a distraction from the tweezers as their metal glinted in the light, however briefly. Once he was sure his lover had taken a solid few sips he set the mug down carefully away from Elior's feet, his expression once again turning grim as he hunched a bit over the bed.

"Well, do you want me to be honest, Lucien? I have no doubt in my mind this will hurt," the Doctor admitted once he was sure Elior had gotten enough fluids. "I mean, it's a bullet. It's a bullet lodged pretty far deep into your side, with a lot of infectious growth around it. How about -" he paused, once again rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a rubber rod. "- you bite onto this. It's disinfected of course, so no worries."

"… you're kidding me, right? I - whatever. Just get that thing out of him, Doctor Adima," grumbled Ivory after taking in the gag. He turned his attention to focus on Elior instead and once again took the man's chin, ignoring the curious gaze of the doctor beside them at the tender touch. "Just get this done so Lucien can get better."
 
"You sound appalled, as though the idea of a gag in my mouth is something displeasing to you, Ivory," remarked Elior with the threat of a smirk daring to appear at the teasing as he reluctantly swallowed back as much of the tea as he could, the intensity of his thirst encouraging him to absorb every drop offered... even if the taste of it made his lips curl in disgust. He was in no position to begin to be fussy when he had gone days struggling to find more than a few drops of water amongst the cave complex, but it was hard not to criticise when, to his taste, the tea was revolting.

Perhaps it would taste more appealing when he had the opportunity to watch the process of brewing it and add his own twist to the procedure, finetune the liquid until it resembled something akin to the tea he enjoyed back home (if that was even possible), but at the very least, he knew he would enjoy it more if it was hot, rather than disconcertingly lukewarm.

Regardless, dwelling on it was irrelevant... even if it formed a useful distraction from the thought of the tweezers, entering through the wound and rummaging within him in search of the lodged bullet--

"Whenever you're ready, I... I'm as prepared as I can be for it," nodded Elior encouragingly, using the last remnants of the strength his body had within it to clench his teeth down on the rod and squeeze Ivory's hand.

The pain of getting shot had been dampened by the adrenaline that coursed through him, the shock of the incident and the chaos that began to unfold around him as fire rampaged through his beloved capital fortunately sparing him the full extent of the agony. The aftermath of it wasn't dimmed by shock, which wore off eventually and left him fully exposed to the torture his body was trying its best to fight off, but nothing came close to the pain he felt now, when the Doctor finally began the procedure to remove the foreign object from his side.

All at once, the searing white-hot pain tore through almost every inch of his body, the general aches and pains that he had picked up from wandering the caves of The Dark suddenly intensifying. Even with the gag limiting the ability for his screams to fill the room, the sound Elior emitted was still horrendous, as close to pure agony as someone could ever communicate. His chest heaved with heavy, desperate breaths and his head turned to the side, pressed down into the pillow in an effort to adjust to the sensation and every sharp stab of pain it provoked... albeit to no avail.

Clutching Ivory's hand harder than he thought he was ever capable of, sobs began to emerge; deep, racking cries from his chest that were only interrupted by pitched screams. Inevitably, he would bemoan the tears that began to fall from his eyes as an embarrassment, alongside the regretful nature of his screaming, but that was a problem he would deal with when the pain stopped.
 
The Doctor seemed unfazed by the other's reaction, which wasn't a surprise given the injuries that often occurred in the mines. Both Ivory and the Doctor had seen it up close plenty of times, often in much more severe circumstances, but those people weren't the loves of Ivory's life, were they? No, Doctor Adima had dropped all attempts at niceties and smiles as he pulled on the bullet slowly, rhythmically.

As typically hardened as Ivory was though, he couldn't do the same. He couldn't simply sit there on his knees and do nothing with a flat face. No, he wanted desperately to tell the doctor he had seen as a friend to fucking stop - but he didn't, he couldn't. He bit hard on the inside of his cheek until he found himself eating his own flesh and his mouth began to fill with blood. His eyes darted between both men, his own breathing growing shaky as he did everything he could to keep himself centered, for Elior's sake. He knew he had to be the strong one, the one who could protect them -

but Ivory never hid his emotions well, it was why he was often teased as a child. He was the baby, the softie. While he did his very best, he couldn't help the tears that began to stain his cheeks and the blankets below as he tried to offer gentle pets to his lover's cheek. He wiped matching tears from Elior's all the while, ignoring his own.

"Shh, shh, it's okay..." he tried to sooth, though he doubted that his voice could be heard over the screams. Nonetheless Ivory persisted, doing his best to try and calm Elior. It wasn;t until the bullet had finally been removed that Ivory looked down at the wound. He wished he hadn't, his stomach churning. He swallowed back vomit and smiled encouragingly, or as best as he could.

"Okay, so - good news, the bullet is out. Bad news, this will sting quite a bit." Came the inevitable words of the Doctor as he grabbed the disinfectant. Despite the vantablack skin, Ivory's hand seemed to have just a tint of red from the tight squeezing so he waited impatiently for more to come. Thank goodness he took a few days off to kill himself because if he was to go back to work, he needed a functioning hand.

"You're doing great, you know that? You're so brave," Ivory praised with a sniffle and took the moments of quiet to wipe his tears finally. "Seriously, I... you deserve to celebrate for dealing with all of this."
 
Though it was an altogether different kind of pain, the disinfectant only encouraged a further scream to break the back of Elior's throat, guttural and raw in nature. He knew that the entire situation was necessary if he wanted the chance to recover, with the temporary pain a hurdle he had to overcome if he wanted the long life with Ivory he had spent five long years yearning for, but it didn't stop the urge he had to scream at the Doctor to just stop what he was doing; to beg and plead for just a second of freedom from the pain.

But he didn't; he couldn't - and not only because the gag restricted him from verbalising it. No, this was one of those moments where he knew he had to display a bravery he didn't often have the opportunity to present. When his entire life was that of luxury and comfort, where he could do as he pleased without justification, Elior seldom found himself in a situation that required him to dig in deep and be brave. There were moments when he had no choice but to take on that challenge, his father's murder being a prime example, but the last few days had demanded more of him than he ever thought he possessed.

And it was that thought that remained in his head as the sharp sting from the disinfectant took hold - he had endured days of suffering and this was the last hurdle to overcome before it was all over. This was the final challenge in the way before he could begin to recover, comfortable and content in the presence of Ivory. As agonising as the pain was, he welcomed it in the now firm belief that it was the only thing left to overcome before he could... finally look forward; finally enjoy the time with Ivory he had longed for for half a decade.

Perhaps it was inevitable that he passed out, be it from the pain itself or the stress his body had gone through, presently and throughout the days prior. Regardless, it was probably for the best that his consciousness abandoned him when it provided a temporary relief from the pain - and the pain that would follow the attempts to stitch the wound. Saved that dose of agony and the stress his throat would go through from further pained screaming, Elior was left to wake up a good hour or so after the event, groggily groaning once the faint throb at his side seemed to cruelly reawaken once his eyes blearily parted open.

His throat dry, he reached automatically to his side where, back home at his palace, a glass of water would reside upon his bedside table. When his hand met with space, he confusedly opened his eyes wider despite his tiredness - before a sharp burst of clarity reminded him where he laid, what had occurred and, most importantly, who he was with.

Hissing in discomfort as he attempted to sit up from the bed, his hand resided at his side as he took in the room. Despite it appearing nothing like the luxuries of home, possessing none of the ostentatious glamour he was so proud of, Elior still found himself grinning like a fool at the unmistakably Dark decor, if only because of what it represented.

A future with Ivory.

"Ivory?" He called out once the other -inevitably- came to mind, swallowing hard to try and ease the croak of his voice. "I'm-- I'm awake."
 
The extraction and subsequent stitching up of his lover was a success but that didn't mean it didn't leave Ivory wrecked.

This had all happened so quickly. One moment, he was ready to end it all. Now suddenly there was his lover, near death, happy to finally be together? To say it left him staring at Elior's unconscious form for what felt like hours in pure silence was a bit hyperbolic but it was simply fact.

Once the Doctor had left, and after a very, very long moment spent focusing on taking in every new detail he could from Elior, Ivory exhaled with shaky breath and began to work on something to eat. He settled for soup as he peered into the ice box, pulling out a mix of foods; cave spider meat mostly, shredded thin. He added the root vegetables he had grown a few weeks back before cringing.

He was going to leave this all to rot in someone's ice box? That was pretty disrespectful, wasn't it? He could picture his father's face staring at him, disapproving. His stomach flip but the lapidarist continued.

The added benefits of seasonings helped transform Ivory's mediocre food, to good, to really good - not great, Ivory knew how to humble himself when it came to certain things. His craftsmanship skills on his jewelry? No, he would boast and brag until his throat was sore. Cooking? That was a whole other beast.

Once the soup was cooking over the stove, Ivory couldn't do much else but rest his cheek beside the other and wait. He would wait as long as he needed and if Elior didn't wake up? That would only feed into Ivory's deadly desires. He would make sure Elior looked quite pretty. Maybe he could get flowers from the surface? The lichen and algae that made up bouquets in The Dark didn't feel right-
His eyes had been closed as his hand continued to absently play with the (former?) King's hair, honing in primarily to the sound of soup and the steady breathing of his lover. When Elior finally came through, Ivory's eyes shot open. He didn't wait to take his face carefully, those tears once again making their appearance.

Whether they were tears of joy or tears of fear were hard to discern as Ivory peppered the other's face in gentle kisses.

"Are you thirsty? In pain? Tell me what I can do." He demanded almost instantly, his own voice croaky from a lack of use. "Do you want some tea? Water? Alcohol?"
 
Understandably still a little dazed, particularly when the pain only seemed intent on causing him more misery than he had already endured for the past few days (and past five years, if he was being truly honest), it took Elior a moment to take in not only Ivory's position at his side but the tears brimming his eyes. Immediately, he felt his chest tighten in response to the emotion on display, the threat of his own rising steadily to the surface causing him to groan and run a hand down his face, in the rather naive hope that he would be able to dispel the emerging sting of tears in a few short seconds.

He couldn't, of course - so he opted instead to lean into the moment, a hand reaching out to take Ivory's as the kisses arrived, and with them came the arrival of the tears, a rogue one or two slipping from his eyes against his desire or want. With his spare hand, he furiously wiped them aside with another quiet groan, though the tearfulness wasn't enough to ward off the smile that once again grew on his face - especially now he had firm proof that this wasn't just some ridiculously good hallucination his mind had conjured up to comfort him.

"Are those the only things you're going to offer me? Beverages? That's an awful shame, though-- well, I suppose it pays to be careful. Demanding you sweep me up off my feet and make up for five years of absence when I could bleed out if the stitches are torn is-- perhaps unwise, especially if I take into consideration how much of a brute you can be," drawled Elior in response, his smile transitioning with ease into a smirk. The teasing nature wasn't uncharacteristic of him nor their interactions together, but he made more of an effort to introduce it now to distract from the stress and the panic that had undoubtedly consumed Ivory during Elior's unconsciousness.

He didn't need to have seen Ivory's brimming tears to be aware of that fact.

Settling back onto the pillows beneath him once the effort to sit up became too much for him, he exhaled softly and set his eyes firmly on his lover, offering his hand a squeeze in reassurance.

"I'm fine, I just need to... relax, I think. Take my time with my recovery. Be dutifully cared for by my boyfriend. It isn't all bad, really," he hummed amusedly, only to pause, just slightly, when he took his own words into account. He hadn't conducted a conversation on whether they were in a relationship, whether they ought to title what they had - but the word felt right regardless, bringing a lightness to his chest that had only experienced a consistent, unsettling weight for five years, save for a few brief moments of genuine happiness. Those moments were few and far between, however, with a reunion with Ivory being the only thing that could consistently bring him joy.

The fact he felt happier now than he had been for years was proof of that.

"You are my boyfriend, aren't you? I didn't wait five years and traverse those fucking tunnels just to have you dismiss me and my desire for a relationship with you, Ivory-- speaking of, to make my point quite clear, you're free to dispose of this for me. I don't care for it," he continued with a pointed glance at his wedding ring, momentarily abandoning his contact with Ivory in order to slide it, with a little struggle, from his finger. "It's proof of a marriage I have despised since it was forced upon me. Melt it down, give it to a friend, sell it and buy yourself something nice-- I don't care, I just don't want to see it again."
 
"If what you said is true and you ate raw cave spider, you ought to be grateful for mg simple beverages and soups," replied Ivory, his tone light despite his otherwise gravelly voice, still thick from a mixture of crying and silence. He carefully ran his hands through Elior's hair again, taking comfort in the locks - however greasy they had become from the sweat and lack of washes. No, he didn't care much because what that hair meant was that Elior was truly there, with him.

Or much like Elior's words, this was all an oddly elaborate daydream or hallucination. He would hope he would hallucinate something less stressful.

"I did make soup, y'know. Still got on the hearth, if you're hungry. The doctor advised you not to eat too much at first because your stomach likely had shrunk while you travelled down here - which, can we talk about that? Can we talk about the… the insanity that is you entering The Dark, alone, shot?" He continued, those large orbs scanning his lover's face with concern. A snort escaped not long after. "You must be mad, there's no other explanation for it, Elior. Absolutely wrong in the head."

Of course his words were light, teasing, as his vantablack cheeks seemed to grow a dark hue of pink in embarrassment when it came to the image of how the two had sex; the image itself s bit blurry, like a window covered in wax paper that now stuck to the wall from the heat. He looked away, if only briefly, bashful. He knew he was an excellent partner in bed but it all meant something different from Elior's lips. His well-worn hands took the King's hand in his own, still stiff at the sight but certainly looser than prior.

He stopped his kisses at the mention of 'boyfriend'. That blush grew deeper at the proposal, however casual. He only responded with a hurried nod and another kiss to the forehead, the idea making his heart beat faster than it had the last time the two spoke, however indirectly.

"I… suppose so, yes, if you're still willing to be my boyfriend. It's been lonely without you, to be honest. As for this ring…" he held up the wedding band to ghr flickering of candle lights, his expression otherwise critical as he took in the details. He pocketed the ring the moment he finished and offered that goofy grin.

"I'm honestly disappointed. Who crafted the ring? It's… not great, you and I both know I could easily craft us a better pair of bands, if you'll let me."
 
"Is it insanity or is it determination to be reunited with my one true love? Really, Ivory, where's your romance? This is a tale we can reflect upon in our old age with a fond smile - the story of how I valiantly fought against my conditions, against a gunshot, to be with you. Maybe it's madness, but I prefer to call it... an act of pure love," hummed Elior in response, understandably eager to emphasise his courage and have that be the overarching fact, rather than the sheer idiocy that he had embarked into The Dark with, injured and unused to its surroundings.

He wanted the story to be told in the years to come in a way that prioritised his bravery and the fight he had shown to reach ivory... rather than the regrettable actions and consequences that had befallen him throughout the journey, be it the countless tears he shed or the spider he had to feast upon. The reference to that act caused his eyes to narrow in dismay, a glare -however unserious in its intensity- being shot upwards at Ivory, Elior gathering as much strength as he could to slap his arm.

"It's called surviving, Ivory. Do you think I'd tear into one of those things if I had another option available to me at the time? Honestly, I'd better not hear you teasing me over it when they were the actions of a hero," he huffed in feigned offence, though failed to destroy the smirk that hurriedly rose in place of the falsified frown. It was almost impossible to maintain any energy that wasn't steeped in euphoria, the joy of the reunion having settled the second he opened his eyes but only continued to exacerbate as the time ticked by, so much so that he could swear his heart would burst from the extent of his happiness.

Maybe that was dramatic, but he had no other way of sufficiently explaining how overjoyed he was; how much it meant to him to be back with Ivory.

The criticisms of his wedding ring caused a snort to escape him, dismissively throwing a hand in the air as he settled as comfortably as he could upon the bed.

"I did try to subtly suggest we hire a lapidarist from The Dark -said lapidarist being you, of course- but that idea went down like a lead balloon. Wasn't remotely popular so I was left with... that thing. Her ring wasn't favourable either; it was horrid and gawdy but she fawned over it and I couldn't bear to hear her whine if I spoke up against it. It was easier to shut up and get the whole thing over and done with," he shrugged as he set his eyes on his bare ring ringer - though, ideally, it wouldn't remain bare for long, a smile creeping on his lips at the thought of Ivory crafting them a matching set of rings for them each to sport.

"I'd love that, of course. Nothing would quite make me happier than that-- oh, me being here with you leaves you no excuse now, do you realise that? I intend on being gifted extraordinary pieces of jewellery for every special occasion we have together. We can start with the rings, but I anticipate a crown for my birthday; a necklace on an anniversary. Whatever that mind of yours can concoct, I'll devour," he eagerly continued as his teeth absently bit down onto his bottom lip, as though to try and bite back the extent of his enthusiasm. Welcomingly, it distracted him from his pain, the throbs almost a background nuisance rather than blindingly aching him in the forefront.

"...I won't return there, you know. To The Light. I mean it when I say that my home is here, with you. I'll-- become accustomed to the ways of The Dark; I'll... settle here. It's my home now," concluded Elior with a firm nod, swallowing back the wave of emotion that arose from the confession. Everything he treasured was in The Dark so that was where he had to be, where he wanted to be - but it didn't dismiss the momentary pain that ran through him when he considered what he was choosing to leave behind. He could get over losing his kingdom, his riches, his luxuries and the power because as much as he valued them, they couldn't compare to the happiness he had with Ivory.

Similarly, his children didn't compare to Ivory, the latter being his priority... but together, they formed the one thing that Elior knew he might struggle with abandoning the most. He could casually dismiss fatherhood as a necessity that had been forced upon him and he could have taken on the duty in that regard, providing his children no attention or love and simply seeing them as the tools they were to further the royal line-- but, however much he claimed otherwise, Elior found some joy in regaling his son with grand stories at bedtime and having the young boy nestle into his side, eyes wide in awe and fascination; in walking through the gardens with his daughter tucked up in his arms, giggles erupting from her when her eyes watched a collection of vibrantly-coloured butterflies flutter about the flowers.

Leaving them hadn't been too much of a struggle, not when his thoughts had been dominated entirely by Ivory - and ultimately, Ivory would always be the person whose love he valued the most; the person he would choose above all others.

But he would be lying if he said a part of him didn't feel complete without his children.

Forcing a quick smile to make up for the seconds he spent in unsubtle silence, he offered Ivory's hand another squeeze in reassurance.

"Soup sounds lovely, actually-- which ought to tell you how desperate I am, trusting in your cooking again. I haven't forgotten about that incident during our first time together down here, sneaking fucking spider onto my plate-- but the soup does smell nice so I think I'll risk it."
 
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"Hmm… no, I think it's certainly madness," Ivory protested teasingly as he knelt down further, burying his face in the other's bow unkept hair. He made a mental note to help the love of his life take a quick wash in the river as soon as possible, but he would withstand the earthy musk for now. No, as gross as it was it was just more proof that it was Elior. No way in hell would he picture his… boyfriend, like this. No, he instead pictured Elior bound tightly by rope, whimpering and begging behind a guard or muzzle-

Blink. A clearing of the man's throat followed, a blush emerging to his cheeks as subtly as it could. Nonetheless he smiled as he listened intently, focusing rather on the more wholesome aspect of their relationship because as much as he wanted to grasp Elior, throw him over his shoulder, and sanctify a love that had been put off for five whole years, Ivory knew he had to be patient, especially with the other's current injuries.

"Do you honestly think I would let you return there? Absolutely not, don't be daft. I would let you do your best, no doubt, but there is no way I would assist you out of here. Then you'd come literally crawling back to me, most likely riddled with more injuries and broken bones. Then I would have to call the Doctor back and that's just more time I can't spend absolutely worshipping your body as I fuck you, and I dare to say neither of us want that," hummed Ivory as he pushed to his feet, his words holding a tone of a-matter-of-fact nature. He moved to leave the bedroom, allowing for some silence to fall, before he returned holding two bowls featuring the very…. Soup-like meal.

"I didn't have much reference for food that's similar to that of The Light," he explained as he set both bowls down carefully. He raised one with one hand and a spoon in the other, offering his lover a bite with those owlish eyes of his, "unfortunately one day in The Light with one dinner isn't exactly enough to absorb the culture of your food, but - like I said, I've met some friends who catch fresh fish, which is much better than cave spider, yeah? I promise I've gotten better, but whether that means my food is good…. well, that's for you to decide."

He waited patiently, the steam from the soup doing nothing but aide in the faint moisture. It was true, it looked like any other soup: root vegetables, a thick broth, and certainly protein that is no doubt fish. What else would someone want in soup? Garnish?

… because Ivory added a little bit of just that, with sprigs of dried rosemary.

"Now eat up. I want you on your feet by the end of the week, no later. Then I can show you around town, and how we do things here."
 
In the course of an entire five years, of course Elior's thoughts regarding Ivory often ventured into explicit territory. As fond as he may have been of simply longing for something as minimal as a hug with the man he loved, he would be lying if he claimed that that was the extent of his imagination. Fuelled by a hunger that only intensified with each passing day without Ivory's company, Elior was often left to concoct memories of their sole time together, clinging desperately to it so it didn't fade or become dimmed by detachment and time itself.

When the finer details inevitably began to become blurry, in spite of how tightly he tried to keep a clutch on them, what more could Elior do other than imagine ideal scenarios he hoped to have materialise in the future; a future he was always determined to one day have with Ivory. If his memory began to desert him, he could at least imagine what their future together held... and ultimately, much of those thoughts revolved around Ivory tugging him close, no resistance or remorse shown as he planted kisses along Elior's collarbones.

Having those desires voiced by Ivory with such a smug undertone left Elior crimson, a blush spreading so intensely on his cheeks that the colour began to creep to the very top of his neck. He swallowed hard and attempted to compose himself as best he could whilst Ivory remained in the room, though when he momentarily left to collect the food, Elior was quick to run his hands down his face, exuding a breath through his fingers in the attempt to calm his mind and cool down the heat gradually spreading throughout his body.

He had no qualms in abandoning his recovery for a few minutes of pleasure - but he knew, deep down, he would come to regret the recklessness when his injuries would be no doubt exacerbated by the intensity of his and Ivory's actions. No, as strong as the pull of desire was, made all the more potent by five years without his touch, Elior... had to force it aside; focus on getting back to some sort of strength before he could contemplate dealing with the aches and pains Ivory would happily bestow onto him... and which he, undeniably, would be hungry to receive.

Shoving his hands back to his sides at the sound of Ivory's footsteps approaching, he offered a casual smile as though he hadn't been groaning behind his hands, struggling to climb out of being the absolute mess that Ivory's words had made him. He eyed the soup with a little wariness, his nose crinkling when he compared it to the creamy tomato soup with freshly baked bread and salter butter he had enjoyed a day before events exploded and set him on course for The Dark... but he wasn't in a position to be fussy anymore. Besides, if The Dark was to be his new home, he had to try and enjoy the food it provided without constantly comparing it to the feasts he was graced with back in Hollowslocke.

"You're putting me to deadlines now? I was shot, Ivory. Some-- horrid rebels thought it appropriate to shoot at me; tried to kill me. I spent days venturing these tunnels in search of you, suffering hunger and pain and agony-- and you're putting a deadline on me? Really. I thought you loved me?" Elior huffed in mock disgust-- albeit with a thread of truth lingering within the words. Ideally, he wouldn't have to work hard to get better, not when lounging around comfortably in bed suited him more - but, resigned to the fact that the process would be quicker if he helped it along, he sighed heavily and offered a nod in agreement after taking another spoonful of soup gratefully.

"Ugh, fine. But I really don't care to get to know anyone down here. I don't really require friends or acquaintances. But I'll-- accompany you, take in the sights, acclimatise to the surroundings. Whatever you think is best, I'll oblige with-- though I make no promises about doing so quietly. If I want to whine or moan, I think you know me enough to know I will do just that, hm?"
 
"When you put it like that, yes. Yes, I am putting you on a deadline. When you're a lapidarist of my calibre, making jewelry for royals and members of The Council, you learn to live by a deadline. I can't just go, 'oh, sheesh, sorry! I can't have your necklace done by your coronation because I've got something to do'." He reminded, his tone light as he continued to carefully run his hands through his lover's hair. He paused only briefly to grab a cloth and blot the old sweat that had accumulated from the stress of the surgery.

"You'll learn to adapt, even if I have to make you," Ivory continued with a purr and an unsubtle wiggle of the brow. He then returned to offer more soup - though only to sip it first, humming in content at the flavor. After a moment of comfortable silence as to allow Elior to eat, he spoke again.

He wanted his words to make his lover fluster again, finding more joy in the sight than her admit.

"Regarding friends and whatnot, are you implying you had no friends in The Light? That… doesn't surprise me," he admitted and laughed before picking a piece of spider meat from the bowl to eat himself. "I understand that. I understand wanting to lock yourself away emotionally from others. I did it physically, for a few years. After losing you, I didn't want to talk to anyone else. It… took me a few years to talk to my community again, make some connections. It wasn't enough to make me happy but it at least number the pain a bit of my situation - but then you reappeared! So… we don't have to dwell on that," he quickly added as that grin was now locked on his lips, the surprising white of his teeth almost as illuminated as his eyes.

"I still have the heart, you know. In my bedroom drawer. It calcified years ago, to my surprise. I surely thought it would have rotted due to the moisture, but no - hard as stone. I never let my father know because how on Earth would I explain a human heart in my dresser?" He snorted, his voice - while still holding a small bit of texture in his older age - now much lighter, especially after having a good bit of soup to sooth his throat. "I genuinely can't believe you had that sent to me, and I can't believe it didn't get caught. You're rather lucky, you know."
 
"It shouldn't be that surprising. I don't need friends and nobody I've met has reached the standard required anyway. Locking myself away emotionally is part of it but the other part is simply because-- well. Anyone I call a friend has to be deserving of the privilege and nobody came close to it, so..." He began, only to quietly trail off as the other's words fully registered and, inevitably, had their effect. He felt his stomach twisting in guilt once again as the pain and the hurt he had put Ivory through was once again emphasised - and even if causing guilt hadn't been the other's intention, Elior wasn't capable of brushing it aside when it hit as hard as it did.

Because no amount of time could pass and alleviate himself from the regret of wasting five entire years of their lives in the naive hope that his people would magically abandon decades' worth of distrust and uneasiness towards their counterparts. If he had chosen to leave with Ivory the night his lover dared his own life by encroaching The Light's royal palace, they would have had five more years together. Granted, Elior would never have achieved his status as King - but what did that matter in the grand scheme of things?

He wasn't King anymore; not now he was presumed dead and the title passed along to his eldest child, inevitably under the guidance of the countless advisors who would rule until the boy came of age. It wasn't even as though Elior could boast of once having held the title when his life in The Dark was under disguise, a new name forging a new identity to ensure his and Ivory's life could proceed without a hitch.

The five years might have given him children he genuinely knew he loved, even if he knew better than to admit that aloud, but when compared to losing out on more time with Ivory and knowing he could have spared him so much pain?

Was it any surprise that Elior wished he could turn back time and do things differently? Flee in the middle of the night to start the life he only now was able to start?

Breaking out of the contemplations, just in time to blink back the tears that threateningly stung his eyes, a smile was quick to arrive upon his lips at the fact that Ivory not only received the heart, but had kept it.

"It's rather gruesome as a gift, isn't it? A human heart... But I'm glad you have it. Glad you received it. I was concerned that it wouldn't reach you. After all my hard work in getting it, it would have been disappointing if the idiot I had deliver it to you just tossed it aside," he sighed, the nature of the sound matching the dramatic roll of his eyes. He allowed the theatrics to drop in order to lift a hand to cup Ivory's cheek, his renewed clarity, free of his earlier delirium, finally allowing him to drink in the sight of his lover.

"...You've aged like a fine wine, you know. Five years hardly makes you an old man, but still. There's an edge to you I admit I'm incredibly fond of," he murmured to clarify the few seconds he spent in silence, unable to voice his desires whilst caught in the trace Ivory inevitably pulled him under. "Give me a week to recuperate and you can flood me with compliments too. I don't need a mirror to know I hardly look my best right now, but-- a bath might help, at least. I feel revolting, coated in all this-- sweat and dust and whatnot."
 
"You don't look like you've aged a day, Elior." Ivory admitted as he took the other's hand in his and entangled their fingers together. He wanted to remain in that moment, feeling the defined lines within the other's skin against his own roughened cheek. His large owlish eyes closed briefly, causing the room to darken as he did. He dared to move Elior's hand from his cheek with the tenderness of a man who had to work with delicate gems on the daily. He pressed his lips against each individual digit, unfazed by their dirty nature.

"Things have been... stressful, to say the least. That does quite a bit to you, y'know?" He murmured between kisses as he sat firmly in place. He may be coming off as cool and levelheaded but there was an unspoken amount of patience from Ivory's side as he did all he could not to pull Elior into the throes of passion. If there was one thing he had learned in the last few years, it was that patience was a fickle lover. It was almost cruel, to have been granted relief from the five years of incessant waiting only to have to wait longer. Ivory knew better though, humming absently into the kiss.

"If there's a bath you're looking for, you're in luck. They discovered a new hot springs not far from here that I find downright divine. After a long day of work, I just hop into the hot springs and relax. For now though, I recommend you allow me to help you wash off in the river. I hope you don't mind the neighbors gaining a peek - I promise I won't be jealous," Ivory explained softly before offering another unsubtle wriggle of his brow. He was trying his best to seem cool, slick, but the reality of the situation was creeping up his neck. He exhaled softly, forcing back the urge to suddenly scream in... anger? Happiness? He wasn't quite sure, but he chose not to dwell on it for now.

He could focus on it when he was out of Elior's company. Like hell was he going to bring that sort of negativity to his lover when he was so weak.

"The gift was quite gruesome, yes. I appreciate it nonetheless. Unfortunately, if anyone from The Light were to hear of a package to be sent from The Dark, I think they'd use that as an excuse to execute me. I never laid a finger on your father of course but I do still believe your people think I did it. It's hardly fair, that they don't understand their darling King Elior was the murderer - alas. I know the burdens I msut bear," he drawled dramatically.
 
"You can't tempt me in with talk of hot springs and then firmly shove me back down to earth with the reality of a cold river, Ivory. Do you know how badly I crave a hot bath right now? With my bath salts and creams and-- and all my scented moisturisers? I will learn to like it here, in The Dark, but I won't pretend that my baths won't be sorely missed, especially if I'm forced to endure a scrub in the river," he groaned in an inevitably theatrical retort, a frown, glum and gloomy, resting on his lips the longer he was forced to contend with the reality of his situation.

He knew he would be abandoning all the luxuries that had come to dominate his life the moment the plan of action was quickly formulated and acted upon, but it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant being with his lover. It was a fact he still clung to, firmly believing in it as strongly now as he had when his decision was first made, but it didn't dismiss the longing he felt for all the items that he had become dependent on; necessities that he expected and deserved.

Adjusting to a life almost comically juxtaposed to the one he had lived since birth wouldn't be easy, especially when it meant lowering his impossibly high standards, but he knew not to be too negative, dismissing every effort made to make him more comfortable just because things were easier, more luxurious and suiting his standards more, back in The Light.

It was why he hurriedly shook his head and grabbed Ivory's hand, determined to reaffirm his promise to make an effort; show The Dark the respect of actively trying to adjust to it and its peoples' ways.

"No, that's-- I'm being silly. I'm dirty and sore and-- the river sounds refreshing, actually. They do say that bathing in cold water can reduce inflammation, so that's a benefit, isn't it?" He attempted, the effort at positivity hardly subtle but it didn't need to be. All he needed to do was actually make the effort -now and continually going forward- for it to count.

"As for the neighbours-- oh, let them stare if they must. I imagine I won't be able to wander about The Dark with the luxury of privacy when I stand out amongst you all so visibly, so better to become accustomed to that early on. If that means letting your neighbours get a bit of a show, so be it. I'm hardly shy, am I? In fact, I rather thrive off the attention."
 
"Speak for yourself, Elior. I don't want them seeing what is properly mine." Ivory stated simply with the subtlest of growls in his throat. He wanted to be the gentle, caring lover in Elior's time of need but he had essentially been alone for the last five years. Sure, he had his father but the man hardly said more than three words to him on a daily basis. There had been small talk amongst neighbors and people he could comfortably call acquaintances but otherwise? Otherwise his communication, his human interaction, had been… limited.

It was that limited interaction that made his desire all the more powerful. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, it seemed, especially when Ivory's heart was nearly close to breaking.

"I would recommend you remain in bed for now though, rest up. While you certainly are still quite weak compared to the average Dark worker, it takes quite a lot to survive a bullet, love." He continued casually, as if he hadn't actually growled at the thought of people he knew seeing his lover naked. He would allow the Doctor but otherwise he wanted the sight for him and him alone. He offered a kiss, gentle in nature compared to his stiff muscles and tight fists.

He had a lot of complicated emotions, emotions he didn't know what to do with at the moment.

"We can take this as slow as you like. I… waited five years, I can wait a little longer if it means you won't die on me, eh? So rest. You know I would drop everything for you, so don't be afraid to call upon me. I will go grab more water to boil, hm? Then perhaps offer a sponge bath. This bed is n… no longer really needed so we can use it to bathe you while we sleep in my bed. How does that sound?" He inquired with a hum before practically chugging back his own soup. It couldn't be seen in the light but his smile - that of which had softened during his unsubtle growl - made an appearance.

"I can see if I can make you a cane. Imagine a nice, lightweight little cane. How grand, for a stranger from The Light, eh?" He teased as he pushed to his feet and moved to the kitchen, though the house's small size left it easy to continue to talk.
 
The growl caught Elior by surprise just as much as the words themselves did, a brow arched as he tried to digest both in equal measure as best as he could. Perhaps he ought to have been unsettled by the possessiveness, by being described in a way that made him feel as though he was an item, a possession... but he didn't. On the contrary, Elior found himself almost touched by the sentiment - as troubling as that might have been, he couldn't help the heat that warmed his cheeks or the pang of desire that now resided in his chest.

He knew his body was too weak to even attempt making a move, with quiet kisses and perhaps the comfort of intimacy as they snuggled together later on in the same bed being all he would be able to adopt... but that didn't stop his mind from running rampant with ideas, full of passionate longing; images of their first (and thus far, only) time together now inevitably dominating it.

"You know, being so possessive is rather unsettling, Ivory," he hummed aloud as he lifted his head to watch the other momentarily depart from the room, only allowing his confident expression to similarly vanish when he was certain Ivory wasn't present to witness the emotions that his features proceeded to adopt. He had no real qualms in appearing flustered in front of the person he loved, considering Ivory was perhaps the only person free to see Elior as he truly was, but he could do without being teased for becoming so easily aroused by a mere growl and the gentlest of kisses.

If the situations were reversed, he wouldn't have hesitated to taunt Ivory for how easy he was to tease - so he could only assume that, even in his own weakened state, Ivory equally couldn't refuse the material that was hand-delivered to him on a plate.

Which was why he had to take the moments when they weren't in the same room to get it all out: remove the blushes, calm his desirous thoughts, still his beating heart.

A task easier said than done, but one he knew he had to tackle while he had the free minute or two to do so.

"You tease, but a cane would be useful while I recuperate," he admitted aloud, adjusting his voice as best he could so he sounded calmer than he felt... and probably looked, his hand dramatically fanning his face as though that would aid in ridding himself of the crimson staining his cheeks. "Unless you preferred to carry me around? I wouldn't object to that, but it might not be all that subtle to onlookers if you carted me around in your arms all day."
 
"There's quite a bit to me that is unsettling, my dearest Elior. Those that live in The Dark are born to be unsettling." Ivory reminded, a brief dash of his eyes moving towards the discarded spider carcass he had left behind. He made a note to clean it later; perhaps it was rude, to leave some trash, but in the grand scheme of things he thought he had left the home rather clean for when he abandoned it-

Blink.

His eyes moved back to his injured lover, taking in the watercolor-like bruises that resided beneath the former King's tattered clothes. He dared not to touch but god did he want to carefully trace each mark, each gash. He wanted to leave bruises himself, ones created from love rather than pain. He had to bite his lower lip. Keep it together.

"imagine I carry you bridal style," Ivory hummed before finishing his soup and laying beside Elior. He didn't touch the other, instead keeping his hands resting neatly on his stomach as he let his owlish eyes close for a moment. The room grew significantly darker, "across the veranda, eh? I still have my mother's wedding dress, I'm sure you'd look cute and fit like a glove. Of course, I would have to make a proper tiara… or perhaps I would carry you like you were a child, holding onto my back. That would be a sight to see. I already thought I was going mad but seeing that would be too convincing."

A smile, like the waxing moon as it grew just a hint. A moon Ivory hadn't forgotten since returning home. His teeth, pristine and white, almost brought enough light alone. Only one eye opened to scan Elior from his side.

"… you're covered in dirt, so come morning we can take a careful bath and I could fit you into some more… appropriate dress. If I'm to show off my mysterious lover from the surface, I'd like for him to look good doing it. I doubt you can blame me." He reminded, his voice now just a murmur as he decided to get a bit closer. Half an inch was left as the two laid there, the candles casting shadows on the ceiling. It wasn't much but eventually Ivory offered to entangle their pinkies.

He wanted more but this would have to do.

"How does it feel, knowing a King is now subjected to my demands? I'm sure your ego is screaming…" he snorted.
 
"If you expect me to turn my nose up at the idea of you dressing me up like that, you're very much mistaken. Not to sound arrogant, but I'm well aware that I could pull off any article of clothing, be it a royal suit of armour or a flattering dress-- I've got the subtle muscularity for the former and I've certainly got the slender legs for the latter." Elior hummed amusedly in response as he adjusted his position just a little to welcome in the other's approach, at first shifting to accommodate him into the space before leaning into the embrace entirely, both out of want and necessity.

Like Ivory, relying almost entirely upon a cuddled embrace and the entanglement of their little fingers was hardly the reunion he wanted to have with him after years of absence from one another's lives - but falling to desire and embracing pleasure now was a reckless move that would only hinder the recovery his body needed to go through, given how close to Death's door he had ventured.

As tempting as it was to throw caution to the wind and receive instant gratification, doing so would only leave him worse off when the fun concluded. No, sacrificing his urges now would make their eventual expression of love worth it; something memorable that he could at least throw all his energy and strength into.

After all, as fond as he was of the idea of Ivory bestowing him with attention, he wanted, ideally, to return the favour; to make the other feel as good as he made Elior feel.

"Ego? You think I have an ego? Well, that is quite a revelation, certainly news to me. I consider myself rather modest; accepting, generous, kind, charitable..." the man sarcastically drawled, his sentence tailing off as a smile of his own grew in amusement at his own remarks.

"If we're honest, I'm not particularly fond of the way events have played out. Losing my throne, presumed dead by the kingdom that showered me with attention, lacking the opportunity to bathe in the glow of their adoration and love... of course my ego is fucking screaming, it's a tragedy. No person has suffered more than me, do you know that?" He proceeded with a dramatic groan, albeit this time lacking the sarcasm that drowned his earlier comments - because ultimately, even if he knew his words to be theatrical and certainly hyperbolic, there contained within them a genuine sincerity; a belief that he had was suffering more than most people would ever know, however narcissistic that viewpoint was.

But Elior was hardly known for his sympathetic world view or empathy towards others - years may have passed but wisdom hadn't accompanied it.

"But I suppose I'll be content if you take up the reins, dearest. I can forgo the adoration of my kingdom if I gain your attention in its place. One word from you is worth more than a thousand voices crying out in love for me - even if those words may be demands that I as King ought not to hear. But I'll allow them from you, of course - there's something rather enticing about it, in fact. A little attractive, arousing even-- though I shouldn't say that. Not when it's best we keep our hands off one another until I'm healed - flirting outrageously with you won't help either of us achieve that."
 
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