[ jokes on you, gideon, because laurent has also never undressed a man in his life. certainly not in the manner of a slave's work. certainly also not in the manner of pleasure. his sleeve is sliced open shortly, and there is little he can do to stop it, because keeping his balance against the counter is taking all of his present concentration. he can't help but think — ]
The last person who touched me in such a manner... [ touched being used in a very broad sense here, because laurent does not invite it in any way, shape, or form, unless it's paschal, his physician, who complains that it's extremely difficult to administer treatment without contact. ] I had him put on a cross and flogged. Twice.
[ an action he has only a small well of remorse for. or at least a well that he refuses to peer into to assess the deepness of. damen was deserving of such a thing. but in his heart he knows that auguste would never have approved of such behavior from him. but auguste was so good, so untarnished, that he likely never knew what it was to feel hatred so strongly that he feared he would choke on it.
the skeleton. gideon's mother. he looks at her, and for a moment does feel sympathy, a wholly surprising sensation. must be the poisonous bite from the undead dog. his father favored auguste for being everything a man should be, but his mother hadn't minded laurent's preference for books and solitude. ]
You were meant to be a cavalier. Your mother saw to that. [ the drink appears while he holds down the cloth, feeling the warm pulse of blood through the fabric. the liquor has a strong smell, and it eyes it warily. this is not veretian wine, which he only sips in rare instances — he can't afford the luxury of losing his wits, and he doesn't hold his drink well at all. he's also been poisoned too many times for his liking.
he takes a drink, and shudders as it goes down. it's horrid. he swallows another small mouthful in the hopes it will ease the mounting pain in his arm. ]
Yes. [ to all of the above. he doesn't pour anything, or unlace anything. not unless he's in a foul mood and the men guarding his door have the sense to send all his servants away for pity's sake. ]
You are young and virile. You undress women? [ he approves of this; it is the acceptable veretian way. the drink goes down too fast, grimacing as it burns his throat and warms his stomach. when he lurches away from the sink, he takes gideon's cloak with him, stumbling in search of a bed. when he finds it, he promptly lays down, a pile of black fabric and streaming blond hair. his arm immediately starts bleeding onto the covers. ] Leave me. I will sleep.
no subject
The last person who touched me in such a manner... [ touched being used in a very broad sense here, because laurent does not invite it in any way, shape, or form, unless it's paschal, his physician, who complains that it's extremely difficult to administer treatment without contact. ] I had him put on a cross and flogged. Twice.
[ an action he has only a small well of remorse for. or at least a well that he refuses to peer into to assess the deepness of. damen was deserving of such a thing. but in his heart he knows that auguste would never have approved of such behavior from him. but auguste was so good, so untarnished, that he likely never knew what it was to feel hatred so strongly that he feared he would choke on it.
the skeleton. gideon's mother. he looks at her, and for a moment does feel sympathy, a wholly surprising sensation. must be the poisonous bite from the undead dog. his father favored auguste for being everything a man should be, but his mother hadn't minded laurent's preference for books and solitude. ]
You were meant to be a cavalier. Your mother saw to that. [ the drink appears while he holds down the cloth, feeling the warm pulse of blood through the fabric. the liquor has a strong smell, and it eyes it warily. this is not veretian wine, which he only sips in rare instances — he can't afford the luxury of losing his wits, and he doesn't hold his drink well at all. he's also been poisoned too many times for his liking.
he takes a drink, and shudders as it goes down. it's horrid. he swallows another small mouthful in the hopes it will ease the mounting pain in his arm. ]
Yes. [ to all of the above. he doesn't pour anything, or unlace anything. not unless he's in a foul mood and the men guarding his door have the sense to send all his servants away for pity's sake. ]
You are young and virile. You undress women? [ he approves of this; it is the acceptable veretian way. the drink goes down too fast, grimacing as it burns his throat and warms his stomach. when he lurches away from the sink, he takes gideon's cloak with him, stumbling in search of a bed. when he finds it, he promptly lays down, a pile of black fabric and streaming blond hair. his arm immediately starts bleeding onto the covers. ] Leave me. I will sleep.