oneman_onevote | (no subject)

You're viewing

oneman_onevote's journal
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More

Reload page in style: site light

[OOC: After this conversation with Flagg.]

Havelock opens the door, and walks in slowly. The medallion is hidden safely away in a pocket, but he brushes a light hand over it to make sure it is still there nonetheless.

He sits quietly down on the bed, to think for a while.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Havelock shrugs without releasing his gentle hold.

"It is a strange thing," he says thoughtfully. "When asked to speak, it immediately becomes far more difficult."

A slight pause. "What would you have me say, my love?"

He snickers softly, gaze still averted-- now to Havelock's hands on his shoulders.

"Let's not start this again."

A shrug, slight, not intended to dislodge him.Then the fae brings his hand up, slowly tracing a fingertip over Havelock's lips, top and bottom.

"Say what you wish," he tells him, and he can't quite smile as he meets his eyes.

"I don't-"

Havelock frowns slightly as he stops, almost puzzled looking.

"I... I'm not used to feeling anger," he says quietly, half to himself. "It is unsettling."

His thumb gently runs back and forth across Puck's collarbone, thoughtful.

His hand drops, and when he speaks, it could almost be a question:

"Not ... towards me."

"No, not towards you," he says quietly.

His expression tightens thoughtfully for a moment, and there is a flash of memory of just how furious the encounter had left him. Then he glances away, possibly ashamed.

Despite Havelock's expression, Puck can't suppress a faint, surprised smile-- but he frowns again as he watches him. After a moment, he slides a finger under Havelock's chin and gently turns it towards him.

"Thank you," he says softly.

Havelock looks down a moment longer as Puck turns his head to face him before looking up.

"...For what?" he asks quietly, curious.

Puck opens his mouth, but the words forming on his lips ... aren't what he wants to say. He searches for a long moment, thinking irritably somewhere at the back of his mind that surely Havelock must know.

"For ..."

It is so rare that Robin Goodfellow should be at a loss for words.

Havelock watches him.

Then gently places his fingertips over the fae's mouth, the very faintest, oddly sober smile playing around his own.

"It doesn't matter. You are welcome."

[OOC: ...Dude. We can indeed.]

Puck smiles back.

Then he takes Havelock's hand in his own and gives it a light squeeze.

The assassin is very willing to surrender his hand.

He returns the gentle pressure, soft slight smile remaining.

He does lean against him now, head on Havelock's shoulder, and brushes his thumb over the back of his hand. He looks pensive still.

Havelock sighs slowly, shutting his eyes as he begins to push away the anger, fierce and somehow protective but useless, and the fear - for there had been fear, he would have been foolish not to recognise the danger. The arm not held onto by Puck goes around the fae's shoulders.

And you see, he doesn't want there to be a reason for it-- that fear. He doesn't want anyone to take care of him. But it's so good right here, warm body against his side and warm arm around him, that he can't find the voice to protest. With Havelock, he never can.

Havelock knows. He knows Puck doesn't want to be taken care of, and the assassin knows he isn't able to do so. In so many ways Puck is the stronger of the two - and even if he were not, Havelock is not sure he could make himself look after Puck if it was unwanted. If he were unwanted.

But he can hold him close.