[Thread] [Kvar and Rodyle]

[meticulousmind.livejournal.com]

Who: Kvar and Rodyle
What: At dinner, exchanging gifts.
When: After this.
Where: Starting with the kitchen and then to the dining room.
Rating: PG Dah, NC-17!

Kvar goes out of his room first, he needs to be early since he would be the one who's cooking dinner. Beforehand, he placed all seven dragons, six purple and one with four legs into a basket and took his gift intended for Rodyle to the elevators. He goes down and traveled to the kitchen, put the basket in a safe place out of reach on top of a cabinet, shooed away the phantom spirits that insisted in assisting in his work. Soon, he started to work with the ingredients by the stove. Tonight, he'll be making different types of curries. He learned from past meals he shared with Rodyle that the senior Grand Cardinal is very fond of the spicey foods.

The aromatic smell of hot spices and herbs quickly began it's spell through the kitchen as the curries boils inside the pot and another type being steamed above it. Dark shiny black beads of dragons' eyes were watching doing his work as they lumped together closely, guarding the cabinet and the realm of their basket.

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The dragon beanies stared back cutely at Rodyle, their triangle white fangs which protrude from black yarn that outline their jaws for mouths were made of felt. They seemed to be grinning right, back at him.

For Kvar, it taken him about forty minutes to cook the food and finished it. The smell of spices and curry is powerful that anyone who entered the dining room by the entrance door could smell it, but Kvar made enough servings for two eaters. He made frequent trips in and out of the kitchen and to their table by placing plates and bowls of three difference types of curries and small portions of side dishes in the center. They’re not beautifully done, Kvar is not an expert, but they’re simple and they were cooked to be eaten, not to be seen as art. The last trip, he placed two plates of white rice for the both of them, and before he took his seat, he reached up to take the basket down.

He smiled warmly as he sat; the moonlight that streaked through the windows shines his blonde hair, which is not streaked back with hair gel, but loose and short bangs that covered half of his forehead and his left eye. Then he handed the basket of dragon beanies to Rodyle over the food, “For you, Rodyle.”

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Noting the smile on Rodyle’s face, he smiled back. He reached over and light grasped the small gift box with his hands while the food steamed hotly on his skin. Eying the box with curiosity, his ears flicked with acute half-elven hearing, he carefully unwrap the box and being meticulous with deft fingers to not rip the paper apart. He saw a small white card box and he carefully slides the box out. Eyes widen as he lifts the lid and there was a silver pocket watch with tinge of bronze sitting before him on a small bed of cotton balls meshed together. Clearly it was hand-made, but crafted with a masterful and deft hand. A small, faint gasp of appreciation, a slight shudder straining his tone as it escape his throat and he was overwhelm with an emotion he couldn’t place.

Nobody had given him a gift before, he always made gift for everyone, but nobody cared about him to reciprocate in response. Back then, he never felt a thing as long his superiors remembered his position on various projects, always dreaming of being so close on the hierarchy Cruxis ladder, but somehow he never really reached the top because once he did, there’s always somebody else more superior and higher above him and there his former dream was obsolete and quickly replaced with a new one. There’s no rest for the power-hungry.

He mumurred a faint thank you, but he felt that didn’t do justice, so he repeated louder again, “Rodyle, thank you.” And he traced the smooth surface of the lid with his fingertip. The lid snapped open and clicks when it closed, perfectly locked. “I didn’t know you could make this sort of thing,” then he grins with eyes bright, “but I love it! I used to have one of these at home, but it broke 50 years ago because a rebellious prisoner punched me in the chest.”

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Kvar watched him prodded, dig, pushed and felt the dragon dolls, groping for any harden materials sewn underneath, fully knowing Rodyle will feel nothing but plastic beanies. “I’m pretty sure there’s none. Besides, I think about this place, I don’t think this place doesn’t produce materials for home-mode explosives.” With precise caution, he covered the box again, slide the box back into the wraps, rewrapped and sealed with the scotch tape that ripped off a few colors from the paper wrap on the sticky side and placed the box safely back into his coat pocket.

He then picked up a spoon and began to eat at the food he cooked, “I didn’t make much today, so if you wanted more food, I’ll cook more.”

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He chomped and swallowed a few mouthfuls of rice and curry, when he heard the question, “Well. . .I made good time of the silence and solitude to make four more dragons." Then absentmindedly, "I made a few human friends, but I’m not close to them. I just only determined how harmless they are.” He sipped a glass of water to washed the hot flavor down, “Humans are. . . humans are. . .I do not know what to think of them.”

Then he turned his gaze away to look out at the window to catch a glimpse of the dark skies and the bright white quarter-half moon. “This place is too perfect,” he said quietly, obvious changing the subject and then whispering. “After I died, you didn’t spend time mourning for me, didn’t you? Did you take the plans of the Angelus Project for yourself?” He said his rhetoric questions all too calmly.

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“Oh,” and then he felt as ease, his expression shows he’s putting faith and trust in Rodyle’s words, “yes, I see.” Then he ate another bite, slowly and after he swallowed, then he was clear to speak, “Yes, I’m grateful that the Angelus Project fell into your good hands, you must be in a hurry before Pronyma can take it for herself, I imagine? You put it to good use, haven’t you? Before the main power source was switched off by her conniving hands, which were stained with her filthy greed? I mean, I don’t think she didn’t figured out the back-up system, but I could be mistaken before my,” his tone became heavy and deadpan, his face look sadden with melancholy as if touched by regret, “timely death.” The way he worded at the end of his statement, there was a vulnerable weakspot of uncertainity and anxiety, exposed and ripe to be picked at.

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Kvar finished the rest of his plate, though his eyes were on Rodyle, watching his every move. He’s captivated by him in general, the thought of what happened in the theater flashes in his mind, lingered him dumbfounded for a moment, but he felt better if it’s pushed aside. He was slightly bothered by Rodyle aloofness and lack of emotion or what little there is he discovered on his own by means through a newfound shared intimacy, but it was minor and this who Rodyle really is, “No, except,” he drank more water and cleared his throat and in a quiet voice, “I know you moved on fairly quickly, but how do you feel when I died?”

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“I see,” was all Kvar could say. Then in silence, he ate the rest of his meal and at intervals drink his water, “I’m not that strong enough, though,” he confessed. “Everything, my life, my work, and my research, they were all built on theories and assumptions. I was so. . .” in a strained tone, and then a sigh, he said his trademark quote (which was more of a whine than anything), “I was so close.” Then he placed his empty glass down and it gave off a light chink when it gently collided next to his ceramic plate. He sighed depressingly, pointed ears listlessly, the expression on his face grimaced, and his eyes seemed to wander off to a distant, non-existent place. He clearly shows he’s thinking of something in great concentration, but has great difficulty in remembering what he’s trying to picture in his mind.

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Kvar sighed, gathering a deep breath, and a forced a smile on his face to keep his calm. “Still, we’re here now.” He said brightly. “Even though I’m not myself as of late and my mind doesn’t seem to be stable . . . as long I am staying here and a good portion of my best has been taken away as a price for my imprisonment,” he paused to take a napkin and wipe his mouth, then he continued, “We’ll make the best of it, and adapt. That’s how we survived for so long, we adapt, bide our until the time is right to take chances and perhaps, once we found the opportunity, we can go home and return to our selves the way we are.” He looked at Rodyle longingly, waiting patiently for his response and input, and an opinion of their overall situation, but then another thought struck him. "That is. . .if you wished to go home," he quickly added, remembering Rodyle's rants in the first few days of their stay. "If you want to stay here, I'll stay with you." And his cheeks flushed lightly.

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The questiThe question threw him off guard, and he quickly said, “I don’t think so.” Then he becomes a bit agitated, “If we returned to our world, who to say we return to our current state of,” he shuddered and his tone become chilled, “death.” Death frighten him more than anything now, even though he used to be a murderer, considering himself, he was violently killed, and he remembered how even though it was blurred out into fragments.

“But,” he said quietly as he stared at all the soiled plates, utensils, and glassed cups. His stomach full and his body was heavy from dinner, his limbs and his head felt light from fear. Too many thoughts rushed through his head, “I think I want to stay here, I’m too scared to go back where Kratos and the rest of the Seraphims’ are alive and all of them will impose our lives into eternal servitude. Here, I have freedom to do as I please, as I feel, even though my emotion to kill humans was taken way, I found alternatives of amusement that was much more pleasant and cleaner.” He gazed at Rodyle long and meaningful, “I can even feel pleasure in holding a civil conversation with you that isn’t work related most of the time.”

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Eyes widen in surprise. “Cleaner?” He then figured Rodyle didn’t get his meaning before, since he couldn’t read his mind or state his wording clearly, “What I meant by clean is . . .in the past, I loved,” putting an emphasis on his past tenses, “to kill humans on an average oo five bodies per week. Murdering casually is a hobby. Imagine the messes I have to deal with cleaning up the crude carcasses, especially on those where I used a simple, 25lb water pipe as a weapon. Here, I can’t do that because I simply don’t have it in me anymore, so the other alternatives of my limited range of hobbies are art, gardening, and other means of creativity of the mind.”

He then leaned lazily on his right palm, elbow propped for support, gazing at him, “Or, are you insinuating something else, entirely?” he asked in an airily tone. The dirty dishes lay between them and he kept a mental note to get Rodyle to assist him in cleaning them once this conversation is over.

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“I see,” he said matter-of-factly and he sighed. He sighed too many times in one night, but he felt he needed more air to get his brain processing and thinking. “Like I was saying, we should make good use of our time here and be careful not to be reckless.” Then he smiled gentility, elegant, “Up to me to decide?” he said smoothly, his smile turn into a half-grin, half-smirk. To test his elder’s true intentions of his statement, he used his toe, stretched his leg underneath the table, and lightly taps where Rodyle’s right toe should be. Kvar tapped twice, smiled, acting out his playful side. and expressed clearly and obvious that he’s enjoying it, eyes wanting to see his elder’s reaction.

And at that, everything he remembered about his past and his homeworld melts away slowly for this moment. The issue at hand is not important anymore, the most important of significance in essence is sitting right before him and he wants a living response.

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He followed in suit, talking as he made trips to put everything into the sink, “Hmm,” he hummed pleasantly, “I’d love to, and if you cleaned more dishes than me,” when he was by the sink, standing next to Rodyle, and turning on the water, he sneaked a whisper on his ear, “I would let you do whatever you want with me, in my room.” He changed his tone into something more provocative, “My room is. . .cleaner more than anything.”

Then a thought struck him, their breaths smelled strongly with curry, “But first,” he said cheerfully, gladden that their relationship is slowly mending and he pointed to the bottle of liquid detergent for Rodyle to fetch, “I found some pre-made ice cream cones in the freezer. I would like a bite of those, how about you? Do you fancy a sweet dessert?” At this point, who cares about problems and other people? Kvar haven’t tasted ice cream in a long while, he never say outloud that he possessed a sweet-tooth and actually enjoys it. When he ate during work, he’s too stressful about rebelling humans, that there wasn’t enough time to enjoy sweets long enough to taste it.

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Kvar merely nodded and in silence, with Rodyle’s assistance, he worked on scrubbing, rinsing, and drying. It was hard to clean considering the invisible spirits continuously harassing them, whispering persistence of doing the job for them. In five minutes, they died away and they left them alone at their task.

They finished in about half-an-hour or so. While Rodyle was choosing the type of ice cream he wanted, with the fridge wide open along with the freezer door, Kvar gathered up the pots with the leftover food, squatted under Rodyle’s chin, “Pardon me,” and then placed them into the fridge so perhaps other people might want them. He doesn’t like food wasted or thrown away. Once the pots and plastic Tupperware inside the fridge, he close the section and joined Rodyle in the choosing of ice cream. He picked up a cone, which is vanilla flavored topped with fudge. “Go on, pick one or the ice cream will melt!” Which is highly unlikely.

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Kvar nodded, showing the same expression of yearning as he idily licked away at the sweet cool cream. The vanilla melted upon contact of his tongue and he spoke softly, "I forgot what it's like to be younger, but there's no time like the present." Then he crunched down the semi-sweet cone with his teeth while chomping down any chocolate chip his mouth would encounter. "And when I was younger, you're not in it." He said with a light bleakness, but in his tone he does suggested Rodyle is more important than yearning for the past of youth.

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Kvar shrugged, "With the new arrivals coming in every few days, I'm starting to find amusement by seeking kindered souls. Though I cannot kill, I may can hinder for the annoyance of others." He smirked with satisfaction and crunched the wrap into his fist and threw an alley-oop into the trash can.

Then with a smile, his eyes are bright and intensely blue, he slowly placed a hand on his shoulder. There's no one around and he lightly whispered in Rodyle's ear with sweeten, ice cream cool breath, and with purposeful, precise enunciate on every syllable, "And. . .Your. . . thoughts. . .?"

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Kvar hushed him, whispering in a hushed voice against his cheeks, and he held his chin lightly with a cupped hand, "You do made a point, I was boring when I tried to make myself meek. I shouldn't worry too much, but then what should we when Lord Kratos and Lord Yggdrasill arrives? Best be prepared. Now, there are more interesting subjects to play around with my honeyed words, maybe I can't kill, but I could hinder." With a fingertip, he lightly stroke down Rodyle's throat. "Interesting plan? Mind games, mind games, mind games~!" He chittered airily on his fleshy earlobe.

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To answer Rodyle’s question, Kvar gently turned around to make Rodyle face against the closed fridge and lightly shove him against it. The chilly cool temperature from the inside permeates to the outside upon contact and Kvar wants to make sure Rodyle is feeling it by using his own bodyweight and presses against Rodyle’s back. He applied gentle pressure, the warmth from Rodyle’s body heated his front, and he snaked his arms around Rodyle’s waist. With deliberate slowness, his hands sneaks up under the hem of his shirt and slowly pressed his fingertips downward on his soft abdomen, then up again to feel the rolls of muscle and fat by touch and he speaks softly in his ear in warm huffs of breathes, “Of course I’m willing to do my share, be patient for the results. What’s your ideas? I’m anticipating that, I want a taste.”

For Rodyle’s second question, he chuckled deviously and silently placed his lips on his nape, placing heated kisses and licks with a hungry passion. His busy hands quickly found their way further up to roll around the nubs of his nipples while locking Rodyle’s legs with his own to imprison him.

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Kvar sneaked a tender bite on his nape and it lingered for a moment to feel for a pulse. Then once his lips felt a few strong heartbeats bumping lightly against his inner lips, he released his hold over him, and licked the spot over, so he could speak, “But of course,” and then he lets him go. “I feel like I needed a shower anyway,” then step away from Rodyle and reaches his arms far up for a stretch. “So, here’s a thought,” he grinned, “Since you need some form of work, I’ll give you one,” his tone pompous and arrogant, “I’ll give you the task of washing my back.”

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Kvar's face redden as his arms are put down, muscles relaxed from being contracted. A small gasp of air caught in his throat, expressively showing he enjoyed being rubbed in that spot. His ears flicked and with a grin and he wordlessly nodded.

He turned around, back facing Rodyle now, and he bended down to his knees and squat, offering himself to give him a piggy back ride. "C'mon," he smiled encouragingly, "I'm quite strong to give you a lift."

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With a great huff and puff, he bends up, standing upright with Rodyle in tow by carrying him piggyback-style. His senior is right, he nearly weight nothing at all. He estimated he weight about 145lbs maximum. Just shed a few articles of clothing off and he would be a few pounds light. Then slowly, with each deliberate step, he start to walk towards the elevator with no difficulty.

As he walked, Rodyle purposely distrated him by playing on his neck with nips and tortorusly licks to edge him on while his hands carresses and pokes around his check. When they're in front of the elevator, he told Rodyle with a smug and smirk, "Do that one more time and I will assigned you to wash my feet." And then puts Rodyle close enough for him to reach out and press a button to summon the elevator. "Hmm, I can imagine how you're going to massage my feet, my Lord," Kvar said with a suggestive hiss, but he didn't want to admit he's getting harder quickly from the little tortures of nips and pokes of Rodyle's mischievious touches.

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Kvar gave off a squeek and he jumped, nearly toppled to the side of the elevator wall, loosing his balance with Rodyle in tow. and with bashfulness, "Rodyle, we're in the elevator, be patient and of course I knew the power exchange~!" He let off an accidental half-snort, half-giggle, and then he regain his balance and shuffled Rodyle on his back, but nevertheless the smile was plastered on his face and he sneaked a nipped whenever Rodyle's hand is close enough to his lips to capture.

When Rodyle asked to specify bathrooms, "Hmm," he pondered, "if it's no trobule, I'd like you to brush your teeth first and then come and see me." Kvar said matter-of-factly, he is always meticulous concerning hygiene and a neat-freak.

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The elevator door gave off a ding and when got off, his face was beet red even through they only been inside for five minutes. With all of his strength, he huff and puffed all the way to Rodyle’s room and dropped him in front of the door, and then catches his breath. “Phew, you weren’t heavy at first, but then after a while,” with a smirk and he crossed his arms, pretending Rodyle’s prior administrations didn’t affect him at all, “your weight sinks in~!” All of course, his tone indincates lying, but the bulge in his pants, which Kvar is blissfully oblivious off doesn’t lie, a truth indicator of his body language.

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As Rodyle goes inside of his room through the door, he sneaked a playful spank on his rump and goes on his way. "I'll leave my bedroom door open just for you, and when you're done, you can come in. My room is just down the hall," he said with a cheeky grin, "number 604."

Then he quickly skittered away down the hall to his room, leaving the door opened as he promised, before Rodyle have a chance to strike back.

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Rodyle could hear a splash of water from the bathroom, which is not too far off from the bedroom. Kvar had done cleaning himself and now he's filling the huge bathtub with hot water. "Rodyle," he shouted above the crashing sound of water, "don't bother the cats, all of them scratch. Come over here, the water is ready~!"

He beamed to himself as the tub is filling up half-way and is about to undress himself. When his scar where his exsphere suppose to be is in his view, he blushed, embarrassed, and then he hesitanted. Out of shyness and fear, he quickly puts his shirt back on just when Rodyle enter the room to catch a glimspe of his naked back.

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His ears flicked, picking up his voice, as he turned his head slowly to gaze at Rodyle, blue eyes looking for assurance. He sighed, then he nodded once, "If you say so," and as he sighed, his chest heaved against Rodyle's arms and shyly he shrugged off his shirt with one smooth pull. Rodyle has a nice view of his back muscles tensing and rolling as he does this action.

The bathtub water was full enough and the steam vapor is warming up the room. Kvar leaned over to turn the facet, and once the water stopped running, he worked on unzipping his pants while Rodyle held onto him. “If you insist on holding onto me, you can help me by pulling my pants and underwear down.,” he said lightly, though now he seems more shy, now that he’s suggesting Rodyle to help him get naked.