[The Last Remnant] A Quest of Honor
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rose_in_winterCharacters: David Nassau, Rush Sykes
Rating: G
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 1509
Notes: Written forparallels 2019
Betas: N/A
Summary: David seeks Rush out at the Warrior's Honor for the ease of his company.
David dismisses his generals--or rather, waits for them to dismiss themselves, once they have dissected the day's battle into its smallest component parts. He is fortunate to have generals both competent and loyal, and so many of them, with different strengths. Athlum can contend with far stronger enemies than she otherwise might, with these generals to lay her battle plans. They have already hashed out all their plans for Dillmoor. He is confident that Rush is in good hands, and they are well set to undertake this mission.
They leave his office, and he sits at his desk and pushes papers without any real intent. He knows what he ought to do: he ought to sleep, or read the latest missives from Celapaleis and Ghor, or if he will not do either of those, he ought to review the tax receipts or the petitions that forever pile up no matter how assiduous he is in addressing them.
He does none of those things. He rises from his desk, and changes Athlum's colors for a simpler shirt and trousers, ones that will not immediately declare his rank. It is easy to leave the castle unregarded; his life is not as regimented as the Duke of Ghor's, though for his generals' sake he most often stays safe within the castle.
Yet he does go out without them, sometimes, because he needs to see Athlum for himself, although he trusts their reports completely. There is something different about seeing it with his own eyes. The path to the Warrior's Honor is a familiar one, and the bartender knows his face. The bartender knows, too, that when he comes dressed like this, he does not come as the marquis.
"Hel-lo," the bartender chirps, and if it is part of his job to flirt with the customers, David still feels singled out for special attention when the bartender smiles. "What can I get you, cutie?"
"The usual," he says, and the bartender beams.
"Coming right up," he says.
While the bartender draws the mug of ale, David leans casually on the bar and looks around. It is a busy night in the Warrior's Honor, and representatives of all the races mingle casually, talking of hunts and battles. He is about to give up and just have his ale when a massive yama moves and he spies Rush at the end of the bar. He moves toward his guest, and Rush looks up, a huge smile breaking over his face.
"Dave!" He claps David's shoulder with a force Blocter would relish. "I wouldn't think Emma would let you out on your own." He stutters, and checks the surroundings as though he expects Emma to loom up and throw him to the ground.
Some unspoken tension in David's shoulders eases. He does not resent his position, or the work that comes with it, but sometimes he does resent the distance it creates—a distance Rush seems blithely immune to. It draws him. "When I am here, I am only myself," he says. "Let us keep that between us."
"Oh, sure, sure!" Rush finishes the ale before him and the bartender brings another, along with David's own mug.
"Are your quarters to your liking?" David asks, because he does not know what else to say. He knows a dozen ways to flatter a courtier or the scion of a noble house, whether for flirtation or alliance, but he knows enough to know that that approach would be lost on Rush. This is one arena where he cannot ask his generals' advice; Emma and Torgal would disapprove, and Blocter's advice off the field of battle has proven of dubious quality. He could have asked Pagus—who was, after all, the general who, when David was younger, had made sure to leave useful books where he was sure to see them and then make himself available for any questions afterward, unflappable as always.
David is unfamiliar with qsiti mating practices, however, and therefore unsure if Pagus's advice would apply to this. He lifts his drink to still his enthusiastic tongue.
"Yeah, they're great!" Rush answers with enthusiasm. There is no self-consciousness to him at all. "I just came down here because I wanted to get a feel for what we might have to face. The guys here know so much! That yama? He was telling me all about Dillmoor and what he's fought there." He pauses to take a drink, and David watches the muscles in his throat work when he swallows, with rather more fascination than is usually wise in public.
"I really appreciate you helping me find Irina," Rush says when he puts the mug down. "I mean, you're—well, you've got better things to do, and to even send out such, uh—" He pauses, hunting for words; he is obviously trying to respect David's wish for relative anonymity, and it's charming. "Such important help."
"I could hardly refuse," David says. "It is part of what my duties entail."
Rush shakes his head. "There's a difference between not refusing, and helping," he points out. "You're helping."
"You have me there." David sips his own ale. It's light and full of hops, more bitter than the rich stouts made in Celapaleis. The bartender here jokes that Athlum puts all her sweetness into wine. "And yet I have the ability to help, so why would I not?"
Rush smiles a little. "Irina would like you," he says.
"I look forward to meeting her." He does, because it will take that shadow from Rush's face. So much of what David does on a daily basis is calculated for the advantage of Athlum, to become strong enough to break away from Celapaleis. There is always a question of what Athlum gains. It is likely Athlum can gain from this, as well, for the gratitude of Dr. Sykes would be a powerful thing to have, but that was not why David offered his assistance. He knows it perplexes his generals, but if it is not strictly to Athlum's advantage, neither is it to her detriment, and why have power if not to use it?
Behind Rush, a sovani has taken exception to the words of the yama next to him, and a fight bids fair to break out. While the occasional unauthorized absence from the castle will be overlooked, any injury David might sustain in the circumstance will not, so he puts money on the bar and rests a hand on Rush's arm. "Shall we go before that becomes worse?" He nods to the hunters who are gathering in a circle around the two angry patrons.
"Oh, yeah, that wouldn't be good for you, would it?" Rush finishes his ale. "Let's go, then." He turns his arm so David's hand slides down into his, and it sets a little shiver running across the back of David's neck; that cannot have been an accident, can it?
They are not the only ones to think of leaving the Warrior's Honor before it gets too rowdy. It is a pleasant night, and the streets of Athlum are busy. They walk in the direction of the castle, Rush's hand warm around his, and a comfortable silence falls between them.
They are near the castle when Rush slows, and tugs at David's hand. David turns and admires the way moonlight falls on Rush's face, the shadows and depth it casts.
"I figure I'd better do this here where Emma can't see," Rush says, and then he leans forward for a kiss. David meets him halfway, tasting the lingering bitterness of ale and a tang under it that is simply Rush, and the warmth of the moment spreads through him. He laces his fingers through Rush's and lets his other hand slide up Rush's arm, to sink into the warmth of Rush's hair.
He isn't sure how long they stand there; it hardly matters. When at last he leans back, he feels lightheaded, his lips tingling and his heart pounding in his chest.
It takes a moment to untangle his words. "It is best that we not do that where Emma can see," he agrees, "though I hope that doesn't mean we will not do it again."
Rush grins, but David makes himself step back; he does not wish to take undue advantage. He sees the shadow disappointment on Rush's face, but Rush shrugs it off, and slings and arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure you've got somewhere in this big old place where she can't find us," he says.
David laughs, and lets himself put his arm around Rush as well, at least until they draw near enough for the sovani guards to see them.
"Goodnight, Dave," Rush says when they reach the hallway that leads to his rooms.
"Sleep well," David says, and Rush grins.
David feels lighter as he continues on to his own rooms. He will hardly take advantage while he has something Rush needs—it is a simple question of honor—but he looks forward to the day Irina is found safe.
Rating: G
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 1509
Notes: Written for
parallels 2019Betas: N/A
Summary: David seeks Rush out at the Warrior's Honor for the ease of his company.
David dismisses his generals--or rather, waits for them to dismiss themselves, once they have dissected the day's battle into its smallest component parts. He is fortunate to have generals both competent and loyal, and so many of them, with different strengths. Athlum can contend with far stronger enemies than she otherwise might, with these generals to lay her battle plans. They have already hashed out all their plans for Dillmoor. He is confident that Rush is in good hands, and they are well set to undertake this mission.
They leave his office, and he sits at his desk and pushes papers without any real intent. He knows what he ought to do: he ought to sleep, or read the latest missives from Celapaleis and Ghor, or if he will not do either of those, he ought to review the tax receipts or the petitions that forever pile up no matter how assiduous he is in addressing them.
He does none of those things. He rises from his desk, and changes Athlum's colors for a simpler shirt and trousers, ones that will not immediately declare his rank. It is easy to leave the castle unregarded; his life is not as regimented as the Duke of Ghor's, though for his generals' sake he most often stays safe within the castle.
Yet he does go out without them, sometimes, because he needs to see Athlum for himself, although he trusts their reports completely. There is something different about seeing it with his own eyes. The path to the Warrior's Honor is a familiar one, and the bartender knows his face. The bartender knows, too, that when he comes dressed like this, he does not come as the marquis.
"Hel-lo," the bartender chirps, and if it is part of his job to flirt with the customers, David still feels singled out for special attention when the bartender smiles. "What can I get you, cutie?"
"The usual," he says, and the bartender beams.
"Coming right up," he says.
While the bartender draws the mug of ale, David leans casually on the bar and looks around. It is a busy night in the Warrior's Honor, and representatives of all the races mingle casually, talking of hunts and battles. He is about to give up and just have his ale when a massive yama moves and he spies Rush at the end of the bar. He moves toward his guest, and Rush looks up, a huge smile breaking over his face.
"Dave!" He claps David's shoulder with a force Blocter would relish. "I wouldn't think Emma would let you out on your own." He stutters, and checks the surroundings as though he expects Emma to loom up and throw him to the ground.
Some unspoken tension in David's shoulders eases. He does not resent his position, or the work that comes with it, but sometimes he does resent the distance it creates—a distance Rush seems blithely immune to. It draws him. "When I am here, I am only myself," he says. "Let us keep that between us."
"Oh, sure, sure!" Rush finishes the ale before him and the bartender brings another, along with David's own mug.
"Are your quarters to your liking?" David asks, because he does not know what else to say. He knows a dozen ways to flatter a courtier or the scion of a noble house, whether for flirtation or alliance, but he knows enough to know that that approach would be lost on Rush. This is one arena where he cannot ask his generals' advice; Emma and Torgal would disapprove, and Blocter's advice off the field of battle has proven of dubious quality. He could have asked Pagus—who was, after all, the general who, when David was younger, had made sure to leave useful books where he was sure to see them and then make himself available for any questions afterward, unflappable as always.
David is unfamiliar with qsiti mating practices, however, and therefore unsure if Pagus's advice would apply to this. He lifts his drink to still his enthusiastic tongue.
"Yeah, they're great!" Rush answers with enthusiasm. There is no self-consciousness to him at all. "I just came down here because I wanted to get a feel for what we might have to face. The guys here know so much! That yama? He was telling me all about Dillmoor and what he's fought there." He pauses to take a drink, and David watches the muscles in his throat work when he swallows, with rather more fascination than is usually wise in public.
"I really appreciate you helping me find Irina," Rush says when he puts the mug down. "I mean, you're—well, you've got better things to do, and to even send out such, uh—" He pauses, hunting for words; he is obviously trying to respect David's wish for relative anonymity, and it's charming. "Such important help."
"I could hardly refuse," David says. "It is part of what my duties entail."
Rush shakes his head. "There's a difference between not refusing, and helping," he points out. "You're helping."
"You have me there." David sips his own ale. It's light and full of hops, more bitter than the rich stouts made in Celapaleis. The bartender here jokes that Athlum puts all her sweetness into wine. "And yet I have the ability to help, so why would I not?"
Rush smiles a little. "Irina would like you," he says.
"I look forward to meeting her." He does, because it will take that shadow from Rush's face. So much of what David does on a daily basis is calculated for the advantage of Athlum, to become strong enough to break away from Celapaleis. There is always a question of what Athlum gains. It is likely Athlum can gain from this, as well, for the gratitude of Dr. Sykes would be a powerful thing to have, but that was not why David offered his assistance. He knows it perplexes his generals, but if it is not strictly to Athlum's advantage, neither is it to her detriment, and why have power if not to use it?
Behind Rush, a sovani has taken exception to the words of the yama next to him, and a fight bids fair to break out. While the occasional unauthorized absence from the castle will be overlooked, any injury David might sustain in the circumstance will not, so he puts money on the bar and rests a hand on Rush's arm. "Shall we go before that becomes worse?" He nods to the hunters who are gathering in a circle around the two angry patrons.
"Oh, yeah, that wouldn't be good for you, would it?" Rush finishes his ale. "Let's go, then." He turns his arm so David's hand slides down into his, and it sets a little shiver running across the back of David's neck; that cannot have been an accident, can it?
They are not the only ones to think of leaving the Warrior's Honor before it gets too rowdy. It is a pleasant night, and the streets of Athlum are busy. They walk in the direction of the castle, Rush's hand warm around his, and a comfortable silence falls between them.
They are near the castle when Rush slows, and tugs at David's hand. David turns and admires the way moonlight falls on Rush's face, the shadows and depth it casts.
"I figure I'd better do this here where Emma can't see," Rush says, and then he leans forward for a kiss. David meets him halfway, tasting the lingering bitterness of ale and a tang under it that is simply Rush, and the warmth of the moment spreads through him. He laces his fingers through Rush's and lets his other hand slide up Rush's arm, to sink into the warmth of Rush's hair.
He isn't sure how long they stand there; it hardly matters. When at last he leans back, he feels lightheaded, his lips tingling and his heart pounding in his chest.
It takes a moment to untangle his words. "It is best that we not do that where Emma can see," he agrees, "though I hope that doesn't mean we will not do it again."
Rush grins, but David makes himself step back; he does not wish to take undue advantage. He sees the shadow disappointment on Rush's face, but Rush shrugs it off, and slings and arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure you've got somewhere in this big old place where she can't find us," he says.
David laughs, and lets himself put his arm around Rush as well, at least until they draw near enough for the sovani guards to see them.
"Goodnight, Dave," Rush says when they reach the hallway that leads to his rooms.
"Sleep well," David says, and Rush grins.
David feels lighter as he continues on to his own rooms. He will hardly take advantage while he has something Rush needs—it is a simple question of honor—but he looks forward to the day Irina is found safe.