Now I'm gonna reap what I sow

[dreadinquisitor]

WHO: Maxwell Trevean and Gavin Ashara; Gavin Ashara and Pel Ashara
WHAT: Maxwell and Gavin crush awkwardly, Gavin's ex-fiance wanders in. Dun dun duuuun.
WHEN: Forward dated slightly to just before the Mire signups.
WHERE: Battlements
NOTES: All the sadz. Maybe some language? Will updated if needed.

Walking the battlements, Maxwell was on patrol. Watching the dark night sky and the cold, moonlit horizon for rippling wings or marching shadows. In reality the only he'd seen were shining stars and the occasional animal - foxes and rabbits, kiting across the ground.

Humming to himself, a old Marcher battle hymn, he leaned against the stone and chased a familiar constellation with his eyes.

Comments

[mythalenaste]

Pel must have cosmically bad luck, to walk in on these particular people at this particular moment. It takes her a moment to see them, and her steps slow as she passes, to halt when she realizes that's Gavin kissing someone. And it's weird. At first it's this out-of-body experience, him kissing someone who isn't her. It's not like she didn't know this happened a lot, but she's never had the misfortune to see it.

Whatever she lacks, this stranger seems to have plenty of. She doesn't mean to stop and stare, but she does. Maybe if she watches, she can punish herself into getting over this.

It doesn't last long. A heartbeat later, she can't take it. She turns away and starts jogging in a direction, whatever direction she happened to turn in, not even the one that leads to her destination. She just needs to get far away before this teetering wall crumbles entirely and the water pours in.

[dreadinquisitor]

A small part of him had hoped, but how quickly it had turned to dread, the quickened beat of his heart wrenching and slowing. Thickening as Gavin's face paled and those green eyes widened.

Clear, undeniable panic.

He told himself to turn, to remember his place - what he was, what they were - but before it was anything more than a chiding whisper, Gavin was moving. He was raising closer, the moonlight and the stone falling away as Maxwell's sight was eclipsed by Gavin's eyes, his mouth moving in. The whole of his senses were shuttering away and filtering through the press of those lips. The feel of them against his own, warm and lightly trembling; the taste of them - like salt and something else, something fresh.

He had hoped, but he had never imagined that it would be like that. That would be that simple. That he would feel the pieces falling into place just like that.

It was what he had wanted then, yes. And it was what he wanted now. And he could easily, so easily, want tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.... He started to reach, his trembling fingers moving toward Gavin's cheek, readying to cup him closer - then he heard it, somehow, over the drum of his heart.

The shift of stone, a stumbling step.

His lips broke away from Gavin's in time to see the woman turning and hurrying away.

[slipshot]

It may as well have been a canon shot, for how abruptly he pulled away. He turned in time to see her - the silhouette absolutely unmistakable. The panic that had almost been pushed away when Maxwell's lips had pressed back that tender kiss had now returned full force, and far eclipsed it.

Pel.

The knowledge of what had happened was instant, and made his heart plummet right into his stomach. Idiot. He was an absolute idiot. He turned quickly back to look at Maxwell, his expression torn between apologetic and panicked, and he squeezed his arm once, tightly.

"Sorry," he said in a rush. "Maxwell, I--- Sorry, I have to--" But he couldn't finish the sentence, just abruptly let go, turned on his heel, and ran off: swearing under his breath as he chased after Pel.

[dreadinquisitor]

He might have laughed, was starting to smile - a stranger, embarrassed for having walked in on them; him, blushing, but happy - but both died quickly when he turned back and saw the look on Gavin's face. He had just enough time to process that something was horribly wrong, but before he could even ask, Gavin was pulling away.

"Gav--"

Then he was running away. And in a heartbeat, Maxwell was standing alone in the quiet of the battlements, feeling like he'd been struck. Uncertainly, his hands flexed at his sides and he turned, eyes blank. Lost.

There was nothing to say. There was nothing to do.

He could only stagger back into his patrol, watching the strangely emptier horizon.