[ closed ]

[aenseidhe]

WHO: Iorveth + Kostos + Sexual Tension
WHAT: Fight training and frustration
WHEN: Waves hands at whatever the DA version of October is I forgot
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: iiiiidek

[ It’s been... some days since Iorveth finally realized he was being hit on and Nell had a good laugh and Kostos had an awkward day. He hadn’t lied about coming back to the topic, but it did take more time than he was expecting. More issues came up than he'd foreseen. More concerns winded their way to the front of his mind that he’d been pushing back.

He’d told them, at the beginning of this, that he doesn’t sacrifice ideals for people. It’s the pillar he’s built himself around, the steadfast principle that gave his soldiers the belief in him to follow him into suicidal situations. For a century, he has been uncompromising, and still, they’d decided to put on a sham of a Chantry wedding, and though they found a means for Iorveth to accept it, that fact alone too a lot of time to unpack. Thranduil even, who’s had so much time to be true to who and what he is. He made the phylactery, he protected the slave master Archon. Were he anyone but an object of such love for Iorveth, he’d have slit his throat at the first one. In truth, he’s already compromised. Already betrayed those who gave their lives for him, for their mission. Iorveth knows in the core of him that he loves them both in an impossible way, but what he isn't so sure of now is if he should. If they should, either. They don't exist in a vacuum, and attachment to someone like Iorveth comes with a far higher cost than the occasional scuffle about foreign slave masters. So, thanks Kostos, for being the spark that inspired Iorveth to pull his head out of his ass and start actually thinking again.

But, that's all been set aside for the time being, an agreement made that's unfortunate for the original spark of this thing, but better than it was before. So, back to Kostos, who Iorveth doesn't actually despise the ways he normally would despise a snarky human sorcerer. Odd, how he keeps finding these humans he's somewhat attached to. Saskia would be proud (oh look, another name that's going to give him a headache with this whole everything unfolding). It’s come around to the regularly scheduled day for combat training with Kostos, and Iorveth shows up as he’d promised, albeit, carrying a cleaned up bear skull, that he tosses to Kostos once he sees him. Catch, broski. ]

Couldn’t take the Vint’s. Went hunting instead.

Comments

[exequy]

[ Kostos catches it relatively smoothly, despite the startled flicker on his face, and turns it the few degrees and lifts it the few inches necessary to look it in the empty eye sockets like he's searching for a soul. He doesn't say thank you again, because he already said it last time they talked, and he's kind of a dick. But he does smile at it, which is rarer than minding his manners. Minimal chipping. Good teeth.

He's going to bedazzle the fuck out of it. ]

There is always later.

[ Obviously he wouldn't really want the Vint's skull. He'd give it to his brother. Obviously.

—and that's the extent of what he's thinking. No crises of identity or morality or romance on his end. He's mostly forgotten about the earlier conversation, until just now, as he's putting the skull down on the nearest bench, looking at Iorveth, and remembering he looks like... that. Like that, and like trouble, which is more important than bone structure.

We're coming back to this. That's what he said. But this isn't the first time Kostos has been stuck living in a fortress with a hundred-odd people, at least a few of whom were not interested in slipping into an alcove with him just because he made some lazy overture. It's actually the third time he's been stuck living in a fortress etc., not counting the first one, because he was too young and religious to be slipping into alcoves with anyone there. If Iorveth pretends that conversation never happened, Kostos will maybe, probably, follow his lead. Or will have every honorable intention of doing so and then snap. Whichever.

He takes off his jacket and puts it next to the skull. ]

Does that mean you lost?

[aenseidhe]

No. [ and how dare you even suggest it!! but neither does he say he won - it was a draw, and iorveth is sporting a fading bruise on the visible side of his face, still. ] It means murder within these walls is illegal, and for some reason I'm meant to care about that now.

[ gross. granted, iorveth has developed some modicum of respect for thor, even if he thinks his thoughts on other races is fucking disgusting and should get him flayed. at least he's willing to discuss it, and admit he might be wrong, which is more than most. if it were the continent, though, iorveth would've cut his head off before he opened his mouth. different times, etc etc. whatever.

crossing his arms over his chest, iorveth leans back against a weapons table, sighing out, because he isn't the kind of person to just ignore a thing he's said he means to address. if he said it, he's doing it, regardless of how awkward it might end up. it helps that iorveth's near positive kostos couldn't give a flying nug fuck about his answer, and might not even still care for it, considering the shitshow iorveth's reaction was. over a century old and he still doesn't get basic flirting if he isn't being actively climbed or shoved against a wall.

but it's the principle. so here we go. ]

Much as I'd like to reciprocate, and indulge in carnal urges — and I would. [ it's important to him that Kostos knows that. it isn't an issue of him not wanting to. even if he doubts that means much to the man either. this is what you get for hitting on this fool - too much fucking honesty. ] There's two people I hold very dear to me that would be deeply hurt by it. And that I cannot do.

[ there's a frown on his lips, still not completely settled with that, but resolved to keep his word. fidelity, man. exclusive relationships. it's weird. ]

But, I've assured neither will come after your head for it, which is fortunate, because your form is still pitiful. [ ignoring the part where he's actually a lethally powerful mage. whatever, get good, let's train. ]

[exequy]

[ Iorveth says carnal urges, and Kostos’ head angles thoughtfully. Thoughtfully and judgmentally, because what he’s thinking about is whether or not someone ever saying carnal urges where he can hear them is a dealbreaker—

not that it matters, once Iorveth has finished with all the words after those two. He raises his eyebrows, at first, but by the end they’ve drifted back down to their usual position.

First of all: ]

You haven’t seen my form.

[ Not actually innuendo. He isn’t going to never mind that he’s a lethally powerful mage. Admittedly, his form there isn’t ideal either, but the problem is that he’s likely to kill somebody who doesn’t deserve it, not that he might fail to kill somebody who does.

Don’t let any muggles try to murder him unprepared, is the point.

Second of all—idly, because he doesn’t care, he isn’t even sure he would say Iorveth is a friend, if only because he’s used to having people he could take or leave and then people he would die and/or murder for and he isn’t used to having to label anything in between those two categories— ]

Two people. We are coming due for a rifter scandal.

[aenseidhe]

[ wow leave him alone, he was attempting to have more tact than usual and avoid just saying "much as I'd like to fuck you". humans get so touchy, you feel? this is what he gets for hanging around thranduil all day. ]

If that form was all you needed, you wouldn't be here.

[ he's still not entirely sure why Kostos wanted to learn how to fight hand-to-hand, but the fact remains nonetheless, and regardless, Iorveth's content to teach it. really, it's somewhat soothing, to be able to do things like this again. so much time in the scoia'tael camps, sequestered off in the woods, had been spent training to new faces that escaped the cities to join them how to become strong, and indomitable. well this lacks all the rest of the meaning behind it, the mechanics in training others is pleasant enough.

that covered, iorveth pulls his weapons belt from his person, dragging the holster for his bow free from his shoulder and leaving it aside as well. stretching out one arm and then the other, he snorts, shaking his head. yeah, he knows, his life is kind of a shitshow right now, and not for the reasons it normally is. ]

Two. And the first to breathe word of that scandal will be the first I skin alive and leave out for the birds to pick at.

[ he's super charming. aren't you so glad you wanted to tap this? ]

[exequy]

[ Don't be so hasty with that past tense. ]

You say the nicest things.

[ He should probably worry more, if two mysterious someones already had to be convinced not to come after him. He'll definitely use that as an excuse not to get attached: in his experience, people into violent jealousy don't like him hitting on their lovers and spouses from across a table anymore than they'd like him touching them, and it's only a matter of time before someone is ushered away and told to stop talking to him at all.

But no one's ever accused him of not having a bit of a death wish.

Only a bit of one, though, which is why he adds, ]

No one will hear it from me.

[aenseidhe]

[ kostos, you are so good at making bad life choices, bless you.

iorveth snorts, smirking. humor dry is the freaking deserts has always been his favorite thing, and he keeps finding himself missing geralt of late. nothing makes an apocalypticly bad situation better like an old ass witcher giving wry, morbid commentary while bitching about no one paying him enough for this shit. ]

That is what I've always been known for. Sweetest, most polite terrorist in the land.

[ hardy har har. not that he's done much terrorizing here, so maybe he can't claim that title anymore, but whatever, fight him, all of Thedas. iorveth's glad, though, that this didn't turn out more awkward, and that kostos is as detached as he is, as he does genuinely enjoy the man's company, regardless of bickering and banter. ]

I do appreciate that.

[ especially considering he's the only one that knows outside of maybe coupe, iorveth's not too sure of that one. so if anyone were to hear it, he'd hate to have to track it back to kostos and toss him off a bring or something lame like that (not that he really could, unless he drugged the man first - he's no match for a mage). iorveth takes a step out into the training ring, waving a hand for kostos to join him. time for training. but, one thought before they start - ]

A question. I'd thought you disliked rifters?

[exequy]

I dislike people, [ Kostos says, which could be his answer in full. People suck. and the pause is almost long enough to indicate it's all he intends to say. But it isn't: ] who are arrogant enough to believe that they are exempt from the world they find themselves in, or that they know better than everyone because of something they saw once in a dream, or that all of this time my people have been fighting and dying, all we really lacked were their personal fucking expertise and—

[ that's a lot of words, for him, all at once. He needs another pause. ]

—and their weird fucking magic, like they won't be just as helpless as the rest of us when faced with a Templar.

[ He follows Iorveth into the ring—and despite the bitching, despite being only a few minutes removed from a rejection, he still looks to be in slightly better spirits than his average. He wants to learn to fight (better) because of all the situations where giving himself away as a mage would be unwise, and because of all the situations where giving himself away as a mage would kill someone who really only needs a bloody nose, but also because he straight-up enjoys it. ]

Rifters are just very good at believing those things.

[aenseidhe]

[ if iorveth's bandana weren't covering his eyebrows at pretty much all times, kostos could've watched them gradually arching higher and higher as that rant continued on. it's true, that's the most iorveth's heard him say all at once, and with something slightly more compelling than wry witticism. it almost sounded like something iorveth would've spewed, in one of his eight million moments of ranting on stupid social practices. maybe he'd needed to get that out. either way, there's a smirk pulled across his lips by the time kostos finishes, and iorveth barks a laugh. ]

While I doubt my magic will do you any good, [ because he doesn't fucking have anyway, ] I cannot claim innocence from the other part, at least where elves are concerned. But even at home, when my people had given up on freedom, I was still the fool trying to force it after thousands of years.

[ so it evens out to about the same. maybe his tactics and strategies he's shared are things that've already tried, but so is most everything in war, and art, and everything else. it's circumstances and variables that change. he continues that fight here, because iorveth doesn't know what better to do with himself, can't simply be a soldier anymore, can't stomach himself to do nothing for a people so like his own in biology and history. perhaps he's just an idealistic idiot, but he doesn't know how to live any other way.

pacing over to a crate, iorveth tugs on some padded gloves, pulling them on before he takes a stance in front of kostos, holding his palms up like targets. warm up, hit the targets, don't get slapped when Iorveth reaches out a hand to. ]

Do you believe that's all our lives have been? A dream?