dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ah, is he hopeless on his own? Yes— it's hardly something worth thinking about, as he's always been that way... From his lowest moments to his arguably highest ones, he's always leaned into the extremes without someone there to rein him in. Felix pointing it out dredges up old feelings he can't banish so easily, memories of the horrors he's committed that swirl back to the surface unbidden, and he frowns a little deeper. Yes, yes, Felix is right yet again— but they don't need to talk about it tonight, do they?

No. Maybe. Not right this second, which leaves Dimitri with the rest of Felix's words to ponder. He needs someone at his side as a ballast, true enough, and various people have been that for him throughout his life whether he wanted them to or not, but Felix is... unique. Unique in his position, in their shared history, in being the one person who's seen every shade of Dimitri that he has to offer, and of course, unique in being the person most firm in telling him no. Dimitri has had concerned gazes and gentle suggestions that he behave in some other way foisted on him by so many people throughout the years, but isn't it true that sometimes he simply needs to be told no?

It must be. He did ask Felix to join him above anyone else. It isn't a choice he had to make, he thinks, not consciously; of course he would ask Felix. And— ah.]

And so you did.

[If there's a lilt of surprise in his voice, don't think too much of it. He's grateful more than anything else, feels no pressing need to bother Felix for the deep and buried details of why he did come along for this ride. It's enough to have him here, shuffling papers and very much not abiding by the even split Dimitri used to get him up here in the first place...

Well, Felix needn't explain himself. Dimitri isn't sure he has the right to ask him to, anyway, not yet. The space between them is still too vast to make that particular leap unless he's feeling very daring, so...]

I can't help but notice you haven't given me anything to read.

[He says, while all but sinking physically into this chair... shh, he can totally work like this.]

[And so he did. That, in Felix's opinion, is what truly matters, which is why he hums in quiet acknowledgement, feeling—well? Well. The truth is the truth; there's never any sense in hiding it, but on some level, Felix recognizes that, had Dimitri pushed for more...

...Hmm. Felix would have retaliated, of course. Would have reached for the familiar comfort that is sarcasm and driven Dimitri far, far away—and Felix is almost grateful, really, that Dimitri didn't provide him with such an opportunity. They're tired; Felix is testy; the peace between them is such an easily broken thing.

There are other things that could—should—go along with that, but Felix skims through the first of many lists, checking and double-checking sums even though he isn't half as quick as, say, Sylvain. It's fine. Pushing through this is the same as pushing through his grueling training sessions, even if the end result is rarely as satisfying. There is, as ever, a reason he does what he does, and when said reason sees fit to ruin the almost comfortable silence:]

Are you complaining? [Yes. Or, well... he could if he very well wanted to, which is why, as Felix squints down at a number that seems out of proportion compared to the rest, he follows it up with a brusque:] You read too slowly when you're tired—and math never was your best subject.

[It wasn't his, either, and yet this is how it be! But ah, this reminder of their Academy days... when the Professor would stare blankly at them as they hurried to finish their tests...]

[The true mistake was not inviting Sylvain to be good at math for them, but you know? Dimitri isn't really keen on trying to do math while he's tired. That's a whole step beyond reading! He can't help but chuckle, shaking his head lightly at the thought. If it's advanced topics... pass...]

In that case, if you become too tired, just let me know and I will take over.

[Felix is already tired... He knows! Don't pull a Dimitri and overwork yourself, Felix? Imagine the Look he will have to give if he wakes up tomorrow and Felix is passed out in his armchair with a parchment over his face.]

It seems like you'll get what you wanted after all. [Him resting, that is. Wake him when the bland meal comes, but also, more seriously:] ...Keep me company for a while tonight.

[To be specific, don't leave him immediately if he dozes off! Or after dinner! He'll be... lonely, which he naturally can't say, but it's true. This trip is stressful enough, and tired as he is, he'll be up all night thinking about all the things they have to do anyway with nothing to distract him— He hasn't looked at Felix this whole time, but for this he does open his only eye because he only has one, to peer at him... what's the vibe, Felix??]

[The vibe... is Felix reading the same short line once, twice, thrice, buying himself a sliver of time before he turns his head to openly study Dimitri. Such a request is—well, it's simple enough! And Felix isn't an idiot; he isn't about to—doesn't want to—read more into this than there is, which is Dimitri disliking being alone.

...He's always alone, these days. Even amidst the hustle and bustle of court, because Dimitri is the king and everyone wants something from him, expects something from him, and isn't this one of the many reasons Felix spends more time in Fhirdiad than Fraldarius territory? Isn't this one of the many reasons Felix agreed to come along on this very trip? After his father—after Dimitri returned to them, finally, Dimitri was at his best when all of their friends were gathered around him; now they've left, scattering about the continent to start a new chapter in their lives, and all the letters in the world can't make up for the warmth their presence provided.

And neither can Felix, he know, and yet here he is, anyway! Following Dimitri about just like he did when they were children, because for all that Dimitri has done, Dimitri is still... hmm. Many, many things, which is why Felix looks away from that eye at last.]

Perhaps.

[Yes. Yes, he'll stay, poring over these reports and shooing away anyone brave enough to disturb the king at this not-at-all-late hour.]

If you stop distracting me. The sooner this mess is taken care of, the better. [Because he knows his limits! He's willing to forgo his early morning drills for this, yes, but he does need some rest. ...Actually, speaking of: there's more shuffling of parchment, then, before—] Sleep.

[Yeah, yeah, dinner is on its way, whatEVER. He'll wake him.]

[What if he doesn't sleep and just looks at Felix, instead? What if he did that? He'll doze off soon enough, he can feel it, but just for a moment— Well, there he is. If Dimitri lets his mind wander just enough he can imagine they're back home and that Felix is looking through ordinary expenses, and the country hasn't been ripped apart by war. Wouldn't that be something? What would it be like, to be king of a country that hasn't been decimated by foolish decisions? So many of those decisions are his own...

Goddess, what would it be like to just take a nap in peace! He resolves to not think about anything, but looking at Felix is still on the agenda. It's much easier to let his mind go blank- or as blank as it will go, but a dull static is better than the alternative- with Felix sitting across from him. Dimitri would not say he's studied Felix's features before, but he's known him too long to not have them more or less memorized; he knows the exact spot his brow will crease when he frowns, the way loose strands of his hair will fall out of place and into his face, the way the fire makes the color of his eyes look more vibrant than usual... Hmm.

He clears his throat, which is stupid after sitting there in silence for too long, but... whatever! He's clearly only thinking about dinner, and not the slope of Felix's jaw or the way he really could use some help tucking his hair back, and Dimitri has nothing else to do, and so... It's fine. He knows what the boundaries are here, and he's already pushing his lucky by asking Felix to stay with him.

So! He looks away under the guise of, like, finding a more comfortable position to slouch in this chair in... He's going to sleep right here... This is all very ordinary, and if he turns his face away from Felix, no one will have to worry about the strained look he gives the fireplace. Perfect.]

Sorry... I'll be quiet.

[The king, apologizing like a child caught misbehaving... Let him nap until this never happened, good night.]

[Dimitri surely knows how Felix feels about being stared at—and yet, while the back of Felix's neck prickles in a most uncomfortable way, he forces himself to focus solely on the running tally of Rowe's expenses. It isn't as if there's anything to stare at, what with him sitting in this chair, buried beneath parchment as he works to connect the ever-elusive dots; Dimitri staring is more than likely Dimitri doing what he can to stay awake, because if he stares long enough, surely Felix will look up at him, will say something.

Which means, of course, that Felix does nothing of the sort? Both the throat-clearing (ridiculous!) and the apology are met with silence as Felix flips through lists, cross-referencing them with reports and requests and hastily scribbled, barely decipherable notes. It's a tedious task. Wearing, honestly, but as he sinks a bit deeper into his own chair, he's too disciplined to permit himself even the briefest of breaks. If he can at least finish sorting through a third of this stack before dinner...

To his credit, he makes it through a fourth of the stack before a swarm of dish-bearing servants arrive... and then he's up, directing them to set things here and there as quietly as humanly possible. It's much simpler than calculating sums. It also has the added benefit of going much, much more quickly, and thus Felix is standing before a dozing Dimitri before he knows it.

...Ah.

Felix lived for this face, once. Loved nothing more than to watch a smile break across it, because Dimitri was so brave, so good, that Felix orbited around him as if he were the sun itself. How could he not? Dimitri was bright, bright, bright—until whatever inner light he possessed suddenly vanished from view, disappearing behind a hideous mask that Felix could barely bring himself to look at. No one else seemed to notice. No one else seemed to care, and so Felix spent years studying it, memorizing it, watching and waiting (and hoping?) for cracks to form.

And form they did.

But now, with Dimitri's cheek pressed against the chair and his features slack with sleep, there is no trace of that mask to be seen; there is only a face both like and unlike the one Felix treasured so many years ago, and he allows his eyes to drift across it, to trace old lines and wander along new ones. This is what is left of his old friend now, Felix thinks, ignoring the peculiar way his heart aches as he leans forward, stretches out a hand. Worn and weary. Not a boar, but—]

...Dimitri.

[Little more than an absentminded murmur, really, as Felix slips his fingers between the chair and Dimitri's cheek, allowing them to rest along the man's jawline. The angle at which Dimitri's neck is bent is sure to cost him, come the morning; Felix is doing the king a service by gently, gently, pushing his face in the opposite direction, even if said king does wake the fuck up. Felix isn't thinking about that.]

[So— sleep. To say that Dimitri sleeps soundly or well, sunk into an upright armchair and thinking about a hundred other things as he dozes off is a lie. Of course he doesn't, but it isn't as if it's a total loss, either. In the purest sense he needs to recharge at least some of his energy, to look less haggard the next time they have to stand in front of equally haggard citizens, and closing his eye for a while... helps. He isn't woken abruptly by his usual ghosts, too exhausted perhaps to sink into yet another bad dream. It's a fair enough kind of sleep, not fitful, but functional.

Felix's presence helps. Dimitri in his dozing moments, face turned away, does not deny himself that small comfort - that Felix is there, and so he is not alone. Faint paper shuffling is a goddess-given balm for his restless mind, and if he does dream, then it is of moments like this, quietly stolen among other chaos, himself and Felix making the most of what they can. By choice once they were inseparable, and Dimitri can only hope that perhaps, one day...

His sleeping imagination doesn't get that far. There's a bustle in the room just quiet enough not to wake him, but Felix's touch against his face stirs him in a handful of sleepy seconds. He screws his eye shut tighter, alnost a grimace, before he stirs properly and blinks slowly at Felix. Ah—

Dimitri smiles at him, something slow, like it catches uncertainly on something first before it spreads over his face. Whatever other world that smile comes from is anyone's guess; another moment and he blinks again, harder, and sits up slightly— reaching up for Felix's hand, fingers closing lightly around his palm as his gaze slides past him. Hm, what's going on—]

Oh— dinner already?

[Cool... Food. Wow. Belatedly he realizes what he's doing with his hand and lets go, haltingly, awkwardly... ah...

Ahem.]

How did you fare with those documents?

[It isn't as though Felix is unaware of what, exactly, he's doing? The boundary he's pushing? He feels the warmth of Dimitri's skin beneath his fingertips, watches as Dimitri's relaxed expression twitches and tightens, and he knows that he should pull away before that eye cracks open. He does. Dimitri is well on his way to wakefulness; there's no reason for Felix to continue touching him like he is, and he certainly has no excuse to offer.

His hand, however, remains precisely where it is as Dimitri looks up at him, and while there's something undeniably bold—undeniably stupid—about that... ah, well. Those are dim thoughts indeed, easily washed away by the smile that's offered to him. Not that it's the widest smile; not that it's the brightest, but it's slow and soft and... warm, somehow, and Felix is drawn to it even as it sends the ache in his heart deepening. He wants to lean even further forward, for whatever reason. A hand—Dimitri's—closes around his, and for an inexplicably heart-pounding moment, Felix thinks that he's going to be pulled forward—

But... no, no. Dimitri looks around him, releases hold of his hand, and Felix swallows the disappointment that has no right to exist. Dinner and documents. Right. He straightens up, pulling his hand back to his side—and pointedly ignoring the (light) warmth in his face.]

Well enough.

[Don't ask any more about it!! He has miles to go before he sleeps, but for a few, ah, decidedly awkward seconds, he continues looking down at Dimitri? Seemingly searching for something before he abruptly up and turns away.]

I'll finish after we eat. Some sort of stew, [he says, simply, as he walks to the table.] And tea. Chamomile.

[Is it Felix's tea of choice? No, but it's Dimitri's—and as it helps with sleep, of course Felix requested it. Come sit at the table like a civilized person.]

[Felix, go to bed. Dimitri glances back at him when he realizes Felix is still looking, but ah— too late. Some sort of stew and a cup of tea it is, then... He hums, uncertain of whether or not something just happened that he ought to say something about, but more likely than not, that's not a good idea. He stands stiffly from the chair and follows to sit across from Felix at the little table, to eat in silence. Felix should take a break, besides this break for a meal; Dimitri genuinely spends several minutes considering how to phrase this to actually convince him to do it while he eats stew on autopilot.

He's still tired and distracted, so forgive him for not using this mealtime to tease Felix about when they were children. That wouldn't convince him to take a nap... Perhaps locking him out of the room with the documents still inside, but Felix would most certainly break open a door no matter whose it is—

He's been staring at his tea; awkwardly he takes a sip, like he hasn't been zoning out, and automatically he says:]

It's delicious.

[...and winces, a moment later. Ah, wait... don't roast him... Hastily, he barrels on:]

I'd like to take a closer look at the town tomorrow, and the surrounding lands... Without an entourage, preferably.

[Help him escape their very round host and run away to see the people, thank you?? Stomp around in the woods a little??]

[Only one idiot in this room consistently pushes themselves past their limits—and that idiot is not Felix, thank you. He's tired, yes; it's one of the, ah, many reasons he sinks into silence as he settles at the table, but he's well aware of what he can and cannot handle. He'll step right up to the line, but rarely cross over it.

For now, though? Dinner! An excuse to frown down at his bowl of stew—the mysteriously cheesy Verona stew, from the looks of it—and avoid looking at Dimitri for however long he's able, but not because he's ashamed, or embarrassed, or anything of the sort. It's just— he's just—

...Mmph. Felix's thoughts regarding Dimitri are, as always, both complicated and frustrating, which is why he does his best to bury them beneath names and numbers pulled from the many reports he's read. And it's a sound enough strategy, really—until Dimitri sees fit to speak, and Felix instinctively glances over at him, processing the comment as he notes that wince. It is... dumb, and that makes it so... perfectly Dimitri, doesn't it? He can't help it; he has to snort, quietly, as he sets his spoon down and considers the rest of what was said. Back to business...]

Without the count's entourage, [is his pointed response, and truth be told, it's not a bad idea. A chance to see things how they are as opposed to how the count wants them to be perceived. Hmm, hmm, hmm.] Leave early enough and he'll be too busy lazing about in bed to invite himself along.

[And the count will no doubt be offended by this second snub, once he hears of it, but that's a price Felix is willing to pay. In fact, the thought alone is enough to make him perk up the slightest bit as he reaches for his own cup of tea.]

How many people will you take?

[He can and will make personnel suggestions, as is tradition, but...]

[One of these idiots wants to put stew robotically into his face and then go back to sleep, really, without having to think too much about other things. That... maybe doesn't fall in line with what he's doing right this second, making plans for tomorrow, but Felix has the right idea that they'll need to leave early to get out without the count's entire court in tow. Dimitri doesn't need to be flattered and distracted for another day in a row— he wants to see what's become of the surrounding villages with his own... eye, and return with a better judgment that isn't dipped in polite allowances for the count's poor spending habits.

Basically, he would love to pull a Felix and just tell the count to leave him alone, but as he's too polite to do that... They'll have to sneak out like wayward teenagers.

So: he offers a light chuckle for Felix's assessment of the count, because it's not wrong, and then—]

I was thinking... You and I would be more productive on our own, without an entire company.

[And if there are bandits out there in the woods, it's not like they'll need help anyway. Dimitri stirs the half or so bowl of stew he has left and glances up at Felix to gauge his reaction. Yes? Come stomp in the woods with him?]

We should send another party to scout in another direction, of course. But the two of us work better together without anyone else.

[They're in SYNC!! Somehow, despite everything. More in sync than with other people, at least— and part of Dimitri's reasoning is, admittedly, that sitting here with Felix has been the most relaxing thing he's done since leaving the capital, and even if they're working, that will still hold true...

Look just come hang out with him in the woods.]

[Felix is, in truth, already considering who to bring along the very second after he asks his question! Attempting to pick out two, possibly three of the least irritating knights, because he refuses to suffer fools—and of course he's coming with Dimitri. That's never in question. So loyal, courtiers whisper. So critical, his opponents claim. Same old, same old, their two closest friends tell him, knowing and fond.

...Same old, same old. Maybe it's why Dimitri's sensible suggestion sounds better to his ears than it necessarily should? He takes a moment to swirl the tea around in his cup, refusing to look too eager even as—especially because—he feels Dimitri watching him. Two riders could set a faster pace, he knows. Two riders could slip in and out of towns with ease, potentially avoiding any and all annoying fanfare.

And they do work well together, when they're alone. It's why he breaks the silence with a thoughtful hum before finally meeting Dimitri's... eye.]

Hm. We'll certainly cover more ground.

[Spoken like a done deal, because it is. He's sold on this hangout sesh; he does, in fact, look somewhat pleased about it, in that he isn't frowning.]

How long has it been since we last rode together? [Just them, he means. Without anyone else butting into their business. Was it when Dimitri last visited Fraldarius territory? An age ago, then—but ah, ah, ah. Felix, suddenly aware that such a question sounds almost sentimental, abruptly places his cup back in its dish, hating the loud clink it makes. How careless of him. Time to make up for it with a quick:] We'll see if you've forgotten how to move swiftly.

[Like Dimitri isn't the better rider of the two? Felix is Not a horseboy and they both know it.]

[It's a done deal indeed, and it's too late for Felix's pride now; Dimitri has already latched onto that pseudo-sentimental question and the notably not-so-pissy look on Felix's face, and ah— that's it! There it is!

He picks up his own cup just as hastily as Felix put his down, taking a sip to cover the look of amusement threatening to encroach on his usual look of just being tired. That Felix... same old, same old.]

If I recall, [he says lightly, with the exact tone of someone who relishes in bringing up Felix's crybaby past, every time,] It was you who would get upset when your horse couldn't keep up with mine. Or was it a pony, back then...?

[You know! Because he's little! He was smaller once and he's still small now, but Dimitri means it with as much fondness as he can muster. Is it wise, to make Felix even snappier with him than usual, like this...? Nah, not really, but the Flustered Felix Look(tm) is worth every second.

Anyway, the horse boy has spoken. Try to keep up, Felix. He's a little excited now about the prospect of getting out there and doing an Activity, something physical... ah.]

We'll have to see come tomorrow morning whose skills on horseback have suffered from all of this sitting and talking.

[It definitely was a pony, because no matter how long (or how loud) Felix cried for a horse exactly like Glenn's... ah, well. Felix was small; it made sense for him to either ride with his brother or trail behind everyone else with his tiny, trusty steed, even if both options did embarrass him to no end. Of course he cried... he couldn't possibly impress Dima wile riding a dumb pony...

So: Accurate, Dimitri! Accurate! But rude, hence the Look that is indeed leveled his way—and the faint trace of color that does indeed appear high on Felix's cheekbones. Soft and embarrassing is, unsurprisingly, the perfect combination, and Felix huffs as he turns his attention back to his fuckin' stew. Time to eat this as quickly as possible.]

Yours, obviously. [Because? Because.] So there's no need to discuss it. Finish your meal.

[In stony silence... no, no. Dinner passes as dinners normally do: with Felix humming or clicking his tongue or responding with simple sentences, as needed. It is late! And now that they've a plan for the coming day, it isn't as though Felix has very much to offer. He certainly doesn't want to reminisce. Memories are dangerous things.

There's even less time to talk after dinner, what with Felix hurriedly skimming through (most of) the remaining reports before leaving Dimitri to his own devices. He has to stop by so-and-so's quarters to ensure that such-and-such is up at the proper time, that the people who need to know about the morning's plans... know about the morning's plans. Like herding cats, he sometimes thinks. Annoying.

But necessary—and rewarding, really, when everything moves swiftly and smoothly well before the break of dawn. He doesn't even have to glare at too many people before he's atop his horse, which, um. You know, she's a good horse? A fine, sleek mare, but again: Felix is not a horseboy, and thus his horse is neither as impressive nor as well-behaved as the king's. She's stomping about as the final preparations are made, clearly eager to move, and by the time he and Dimitri manage to slip out a side gate... ah, but it takes visible effort for Felix to rein her in. She wants to fly...

...And Felix, still remembering that dinner conversation, cuts Dimitri the same sort of Look he'd shot him over the stew.]

Don't say a word.

[Do not. Him... grumpy. Current pros, though: the morning air is crisp and cold! They're both out of their more formal attire at last, with Felix wearing something akin to the outfit he wore during the war! They have miles and miles and miles to cover! They're alone!]

[Despite Felix's grumbling- or maybe even a little bit because of it- the evening passes almost pleasantly, and then the morning comes with more ease than the day before. Dimitri is as rested as he can be, after no doubt being bullied into going to sleep properly, in a bed, not long after dinner... He doesn't think about that; instead, he waits with his horse for Felix to herd all of his cats, and he feels... kind of good!

It's being out and about without the entourage, of course - to get up on horseback without ceremony or twenty people trailing after him, minimum, and appearances to think about. He's reminded even more fervently of the old days, brought up together with Felix and the others, with the relative freedom to do things like this purely for enjoyment. No, this isn't like that - there's duty here, and enough obligation to break his back if he isn't careful - but the morning weather is clear, and just to be outdoors and able to take a deep breath without fifty people wondering what deeper meaning could be behind such an act is refreshing.

And Felix is already grumpy (or still grumpy, actually), which makes Dimitri almost smile, despite himself. His own horse is as calm and poised as if she were born to carry kings, which probably isn't far from the truth, but still! Watching Felix's mare just barely tolerate his direction is so...]

I had no intention of saying anything, [he says, but look: he was thinking it. He was thinking it a lot, remembering tiny crybaby Felix just as frustrated trying to control his slow little pony— but! To business!

He spurs his horse into a nice, steady canter, assuming Felix will wrangle that beast enough to keep up with him. Come, sword boy!! He's long since picked which particularly sad-looking village he wants to check in on first.]

We have a ways to go, so let's not waste daylight. [It's like 6 in the morning. He glances over his shoulder at Felix, then:] What was your pony's name, again?

[This is not technically teasing him about the new horse, so he's allowed this one thing.]

[It takes some convincing—that is to say, a good deal of ill-tempered grumbling—before Felix's horse matches the pace set by Dimitri's, and even then it takes her another moment to come to terms with the fact that, no, she will not be allowed to outstrip her much calmer friend. The folly of youth! Or so Felix assumes, anyway, because he's loath to admit that he just isn't good at something. He's a noble; he knows how to ride a damn horse.

But here's the unfortunate truth: Felix has never been comfortable around horses, and horses, intelligent creatures that they are, sense this? As, of course, do the people who've spent any amount of time with Felix, which is why Dimitri's assurance is hardly reassuring. Felix (thinks he) knows what Dimitri is thinking well before Dimitri asks that stupid question; he's fully prepared to risk losing control of his horse just to look over at this fool of a man, eyes narrowing as he—

Oh. Well. Examines him for a moment, apparently, because it's the first time he's seriously looked at Dimitri since they slipped out of Rowe's estate, and he looks... far better than he did the night before. Not perfect, mind you; that dark circle under his eye is apparently here to stay for the remainder of the tour, but the cold air has brought color to his cheeks, seemingly breathed a bit of life back into him. A hint of that old spark...

...Hmm. Felix faces forward, smoothing his expression as he offers up a hum of what he hopes is disapproval. Spoiler: it is not. This teasing is... well, maybe Felix doesn't want to be the reason Dimitri's face falls at this early hour. That's all.]

Eachann, [he soon says, albeit somewhat stiffly.] If you must know.

[The name of Kyphon's valiant steed, plucked right from their favorite tales—because once upon a time, Felix wanted to be the Kyphon to Dimitri's Loog more than anything in the world. Silly kids being silly kids, Felix thinks as he loosens his hold on his reins, allowing his horse to pull ahead at last. So long, sucker. Let him say one more thing as he passes on by:]

Your horse was named something just as ridiculous.

[So THERE. Memories.]

[He'd honestly forgotten the name of the pony, so as much as that question was genuinely intended to tease, the answer brings with it a rush of memories that feel so far away it's as if they happened to someone else. It was another lifetime, wasn't it, that they'd been children and Felix had always been at his heels, and would burst into messy tears the moment he thought he'd be left behind—

The way he was after Duscur, Dimitri thinks darkly. The way he was after their year at the monastery— those years in between are ones Felix will never tell him about except to detail the things that happened because he was too busy being a beast in the shadows, or whatever Felix wants to call it these days, and Dimitri can't say he doesn't deserve that. Guilt threatens to darken the morning again, to slide over his shoulders like a second cloak he can never be rid of, and Dimitri only sighs and shakes his head— for all intents and purposes in response to Felix's fussing. Like, it is a bit, anyway...

It's fine. The morning is bright, the air is crisp, they're out here together and if Dimitri squints, he can almost imagine that the village they're riding toward is one undamaged by war, and that the two of them are unspoiled by their mutual tragedies. He doesn't want to be the thing that ruins his morning, either!

So. The ride is nice, and the preliminary trip through the village is... sobering, but in a way that feels productive the way looking at endless charts and lists of numbers in supply documents doesn't. They leave the horses and evaluate the village on foot, and yes, there's an awful lot of villagers grabbing Dimitri's hands and thanking him with tears in their eyes, and even a few scrappy children who trot diligently after Felix, but it's still better than whatever the Count and his court are getting up to right about now. Breakfast and being furious at the pair of them, most likely.

But a woman in the village mentions bandits, and her son being missing, and that's the rest of the morning as far as Dimitri is concerned. It's time to march back into the woods, which is... surprisingly not productive? In due time Dimitri stops to look around, like, surely there are no bandits out here that can be this good. Not enough to avoid the two of them, so...]

I have not seen anything suspicious yet, [he says, and that is suspicious in itself, but hmm!!] Perhaps her son ran away from home...

[Grim, but like, more awkward-family-problems grim than kidnapping grim.]

[The ride is nice, and the village they visit is... all that Felix expects it to be, honestly. He trails behind Dimitri, working to keep his expression impassive as he notes the condition of the buildings, of the people staring wide-eyed at their king. When did Count Rowe last ride through? Has he ever ridden through? And maybe, just maybe, there's a twinge of guilt that accompanies this thought, given how long it's been since his last visit to his own territory, but he receives frequent reports; Count Rowe, it would seem, does not, and thus... bandits!

...Bandits. He doesn't even bother to disguise his scoff when he hears this bit of news, because as if he needed even more of a reason to dislike the lazy, lazy noble entrusted with protecting this corner of the kingdom. Not that it's about duty! Not really. It's about defenseless people looking for—needing—protection, and so Felix doesn't argue when Dimitri insists upon heading into the forest to find the boy and his alleged captors. He should, perhaps; like, he could think of several solid reasons to object—but he doesn't, because the two of them are more than capable of handling such basic enemies.

And could there be several selfish somethings to this? Oh, of course. He's eager to be back in the thick of it, after spending so many moons suffering through meeting after meeting; he's eager to bring this bit of news to the count's attention, staring him down as the the man tries (and fails) to save face; he's eager to remain alongside Dimitri, watching more and more life creep into him as they continue moving, continue doing.

But god damn, if this eerily empty forest isn't making all of those somethings difficult. Felix, impatient at the best of times, clicks his tongue in response to Dimitri's brilliant deduction.]

Likely, [he mutters, brushing past Dimitri just to come to a stop a foot or so ahead of him.] Fitting. The king and his advisor, charging in like fools...

[Letting Stuff and Things get in the way of better judgment! Damn! Just another day for Dimitri, perhaps, but Felix glares at the ground, scuffing the toe of his boot across the forest floor to judge the ease with which tracks can be made. He... is supposed to be better than this; he... is going to take this personally, if they find neither hide nor hair of bandits. He's a pissy Idiot.]

A waste of time.

[Hmm.]

[Felix... please. Dimitri watches him Take it Personally, crossing his arms and frowning. It's disappointing to come out here needlessly, yes, but it's much less disappointing to confirm that there... aren't bandits so close to the village? Well— that or the wayward son has since joined said bandits himself, willingly, and they've all left. That situation would be one they have to deal with, but for the time being, there's no real evidence that anyone has passed through here in the past day or two besides the pair of them.

But Felix is taking it personally, so.]

Like fools?

[Really? Really. Come on.]

Do you believe that villager wanted to shame us by sending us on a fruitless chase? How is it a waste to consider the feelings of a mother separated from her son?

[Be reasonable, my guy. It would be worse to ignore her, or to throw a couple soldiers at the problem and call it done, the way Count Rowe might if he ever bothered to come out this far— Maybe they've wasted time, but Dimitri doesn't think it foolish to take a look around...]

No one is calling you a fool except you, Felix.

[Somewhere far, far away, Ingrid is nodding her approval—and somewhere, far, far closer, Felix is shifting his attention from the ground to Dimitri's face, hand going right to his hip. It's not that he doesn't care? It never is, given the depth of Felix's emotions, but it's... well, he's always been practical; as an advisor, he's expected to be even more so, and he is, without a doubt, his own harshest critic. They have so much ground to cover! They have so little time to do so! They weren't meant to handle every problem they came across today!

But here they are, anyway. Two idiots alone in the woods, as far as Felix sees it—and so he scowls. He's never been one to shy away from a fight.]

Because I am one. I stood there and watched as you agreed to... this.

[He lifts his free hand hand, gesturing vaguely at their very forest-y surroundings. A bird is probably chirping somewhere. This!!]

Rowe's men are less than a day away. We could have sent for them, or I could have handled this alone. [While Dimitri continued talking with the people? Agreed to even more things? ...Whew. A sigh, and then:] You're the king, Dimitri. Are you planning to search for every lost son, when you're already so—

[...Well. There are a thousand ways to end that sentence, but he closes his map with a snap, allowing the silence to just, ah, awkwardly hang there.]

[And to think, they were having a decent morning before the inevitable arguing. Dimitri is tired already; he moves to lean against the nearest tree trunk, ready to be here for a while as Felix works out whatever this new problem is. Does he have a point, should they have delegated this task to someone else? ...Maybe. But can a king not speak directly to his people? Dimitri has no guidelines for this; everyone who could have advised him- either of them- with real, lived experience is... well.

So he follows his heart and Felix just lets him, and perhaps they are both to blame for that, but standing around in a forest clearing arguing about it isn't productive either, is it... All the same, if he will stop to listen to anyone complain that they've wasted their time, it's Felix...

He's quiet for a moment.]

It isn't just a lost son, [is what he comes up with eventually, spoken without any hint of argument. He doesn't want to fight, actually! He would rather not argue about this! Yet it would be remiss of him not to engage at all, so he speaks simply, stating his case: it's more than the one boy. It's the bandits (or lack thereof); the people's faith in them, in him; the way it feels backwards and wrong to look a mother in the eye and tell her to wait patiently and someone else will deal with her son when the paperwork clears...

He sighs shortly, looking down at the dirt. Hmm. Well.

Alright,] Already so what? What am I now?

[Of course it isn't just a lost son, Felix thinks. It's that helping here sets a precedent; it's that even the smallest problem comes with, like, twenty more problems attached; it's that they, as a pair, are one inexperienced king and his inexperienced advisor, and as little as Felix cares for politics, he remembers enough of his father's lessons to know that change doesn't come without a cost. They need to be better in every way? A step ahead of everything.

...Things were, in a sense, easier during the war. Felix is so much better at taking down enemies than keeping track of all of this, but he has an important reason to try? And said reason is, hmm, currently staring at the dirt, asking questions Felix wishes he wouldn't, and really, whose fault is that. For someone who prides himself on his control, that slip was...

Well! Whatever! It isn't just fights; Felix refuses to shy away from anything, which is why he lifts his chin, studying Dimitri for a moment before he decides to be as blunt as ever.]

Exhausted.

[A beat, just to let that sink in, before he continues right along.]

Everyone expects you to be something. Even myself, [he adds, somewhat bitterly, not so caught up as to not recognize his own role in all of this. Like he wasn't just pushing Dimitri to be a certain way, to do certain things.] But you expect yourself to be everything. You push yourself to make up for—

[This isn't Felix cutting himself off; this is Felix trying—and failing!—to find the proper words for those lost years before he once again throws a hand into the air. He's trying. He means what he says, even though he's aware that there are things Dimitri refuses to do, things Dimitri argues for or against. It's not that Dimitri is some mindless people-pleaser; it's that Felix still sees so much guilt driving him, and he loathes it for so many reasons.

And you know, he could say something about how, if Dimitri continues pushing himself to the edge, the country will run terribly without a king. Fractures will form, the center will not hold, etc—but he looks at Dimitri's face and his own expression flickers, softens the slightest bit. No. The kingdom is important, yes, but.]

Do you think anyone is prepared to lose you again?

[Anyone? Him, a not-so-small part of him knows that he means. This is selfish, and dramatic, and yet.]

[Oh. Exhausted. Well. That's true enough; Dimitri has been exhausted for nearly a decade now, he thinks, in one way or another. Even now the ghosts of their shared past linger in his periphery, just out of the forefront of here and now— waiting. Waiting for him to slip up, to fail again, to fall back into the monster he let himself become for all those years before Felix and everyone else pulled him (with, ahem, varying degrees of gentleness) out of that darkness. They always will lurk there, he knows, and it takes so much of his energy to stay one step ahead of that, of himself, to say nothing of the rest of the kingdom.

So, okay. Felix is right. Dimitri can't help the laugh that comes out, more a puff of breath than anything else; his laugh is as tired as the rest of him. Felix is right about all of it! How does it feel to be right this time, old friend?

Dimitri glances up at him, holding his gaze in silence for a moment while he studies Felix's face, taking in that expression, the drama...

And he looks down again, brow furrowed.]

I do not know how else to be, [comes his quiet reply, honest in a way he holds back from most. Unfiltered through any of the masks he's picked up or had forced upon him, frank in the same way he's told Felix that, yes, the monster and the man are both him, regrettable as it may be. Regrettable as this is, now.

He kind of hoped he'd last a little longer before his behavior threatened to burn him out for, like, the third time... How disappointing.]

And I don't know how to stop. Still, Felix— I know the damage I've caused, and that my word may not mean much, but I will not leave you again.

[And everyone else, etc, that's obviously implied. Only Felix is in front of him now, clearly having... some emotions about all of this, and it's crossed Dimitri's mind before that Felix could tire of him one day and leave Dimitri behind, as unlikely as it truly sounds. That's what inspires Dimitri's own selfish and dramatic line, anyway:]

If I'm going to do this right, it won't be alone. I need you.

[Being right feels shitty, thanks! Not because Felix regrets making this particular point; he does, in fact, lift his chin as Dimitri studies him, as fiercely unapologetic as he's ever been, but the moment Dimitri's attention shifts downward—ah. Ha. Younger Felix would have undoubtedly felt a flash of self-righteousness; older Felix, however, feels oddly drained, because it's difficult to take pride in landing even the lightest of blows these days. Sometimes it's necessary to point out this or that; sometimes it's, ah, less about necessity and more about him failing to hold himself back, but no matter the reason(s), this isn't how he wants things to be. He wants...

Well. Part of what he wants is what Dimitri says, although hearing it prompts a hot stab of something akin to shame—and no small amount of annoyance, really. Directed at himself, for failing to keep his emotions in check, but also at this man who would rather study the dirt than the person he's addressing. Is it guilt? Is it shame? Perhaps it doesn't matter at this point in time, because hearing Dimitri say that his word means little, seeing him act as though it's a foregone conclusion, is bad enough in and of itself. Like he knows how Felix feels, or what Felix thinks. Ridiculous.

Or: Not so ridiculous, given the many, many things Felix has said in the past. Hmm. He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, pressing his lips into a thin line before he releases an audible breath. Lowly:]

I know that. Why do you think I'm here?

[In this forest, on this tour, spending more time back in Fhirdiad than his own duchy—always by Dimitri's side. He can pretend it's for the kingdom, but they both know how he's always viewed duty; the simple, slightly selfish truth is that he's here... for Dimitri. To ensure that he never, ever slips away again, and so Felix takes a step closer. And then another. And then another. Closing this gap between them, bit by bit.]

You tell me that I'm needed, [he says, quietly cross, as he comes to a stop a mere foot from Dimitri, tilts his head back to peer up at him through narrowed eyes.] You give me your word, but you can't even bring yourself to look at me.

[Look at him! Look him in the eye, because damn, but he wants to believe Dimitri.]

[Anyone hearing the same thing enough times will start to believe it to be true, and Dimitri is far from the exception to that rule; of course, for him it's mostly been the voices of the dead hammering at the back of his skull for years and years, convincing him for so long that his only reason for living was to seek revenge. Still: while he appreciates, on the most basic level, Felix's ability to tell him no when he needs it, to metaphorically slap his hands away from the worst of his habits, there's still... Well.

What is his word worth, after all these years of falling apart, in one way or another? He never kept his many promises to his father, to Glenn, to everyone— and the part of him that knows now that he never had to is at constant war with the part that screams back that maybe he should have anyway.

So, yes, alright: Felix being so persistently hard on him has gotten to him, whether he believes wholly in Felix's, ah, methods or not. It's not one of their faults more than the other; Felix could stand to relax and Dimitri could stand to do less brooding, less stewing in misery and shame— but it is what it is. He's still looking at the ground when Felix speaks again, and feels another jolt of something heavy and miserable when he's... not quite corrected.

Know that this only builds the more Felix says, making his expression twist into a guilty frown, but ah— he blinks, realizing only when Felix is finally in front of him that he's actually moved, and looking up automatically— out of surprise, really. It's Felix's accusation that holds Dimitri's gaze on his face, though the upset set of his mouth really does betray how much he would love to look at the ground again.

So... hey? Childishly, Dimitri wishes he could express everything he feels about this and about Felix just by looking at him, without having to put it to words that will be poked and prodded and judged before the mess that is his heart is given a fighting chance. He doesn't know what to say! He never has! No one who could have taught him lived long enough to do that, so—]

I miss you, [he says, clumsily, and it must be relative proximity to Felix that determines just how many childish things he's willing to blurt out like that without thinking. Surely he doesn't need to specify what he means...] And I'm sorry.

[That, too, can stand on its own without redundant explanation. Felix is too close, not for comfort, just— Dimitri can't help himself from lifting a hand to touch his cheek, thumb brushing high over his cheekbone and resting there without pulling away.

He probably could have waited until he had his gloves off to do this, but here they are.]

I want to be someone the people can be proud of. [The people, the living ones, not the dead at last.] That... includes you, Felix.

[Boy does it ever!!]

Edited 2020-02-05 23:43 (UTC)

highly new, slightly improved open post

can't believe i grew dima an extra eye up there.... it's an au now

au dima: two eyes, can taste food, ???

knows how to make expressions, can hold delicate items without breaking them

damn... dima 2.0 comes with some great features

he also comes with a usb charger

but is he bluetooth capable?

somehow that's dirty

says the person who brought up dima's charger

https://i.imgur.com/60Ev4Gu.png

makes the sign of the cross

this is not a christian server

this is a darksided tech support forum

feral dima is a deep web hitman. my modern cyberpunk au

does this make felix a cop? a blade runner... this au has promise

now i'm just saying, but cop uniforms and spandex pilot suits are both things a stripper could wear

let felix live his slutty, slutty au lives in peace

hmmm i cannot do that

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how many tags until we make it soft

maybe if flex would just accept his innate tenderness

a tsun's gotta tsun... the tsun before the soft...

you imply the tsun will end? don't lie

eternal tsunshine... embrace it

hmm don't care for that

just call him tsunderella

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i didn't upload any awkward dingus icons, who am i

a foole... dima deserves 100 of em, at least

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