servant au for massochism

[hotproblems]

[When his father tells him they're going to be taking in a new member on the staff, Lorenz merely nods his acknowledgement and moves on. Their house takes on new servants all the time, that's how having a staff works, and so he misses a few key details, like the new man's coming from across the border, and how this is a favor to an old (old, old) friend of the family, and how he's going to be Lorenz's personal valet.

He is surprised, then, when he's introduced (or rather, when Olivine is introduced to him, as these things go) and suddenly has a valet all his own. He's been accustomed to staff, yes, but no one servant has waited on him more than the rest since, well, youth? When he had a nanny? What to do with a valet is almost a mystery.

But he works it out. Olivine is polite and well-mannered and has never once rolled his eyes when he thought Lorenz wasn't looking, and Lorenz is... charmed. Olivine is handsome, yes, and pleasingly-shaped, yes, and his big doleful eyes are so... well. When Lorenz is alone at night and conjures an image to feel less so, it's Olivine's pretty eyes that always float to the surface of his mind first.

Not that he can ever mention that. How wildly inappropriate.

So life with a valet now proceeds smoothly, for the most part, which is nice. Olivine is easy to speak to and confide in, although most of Lorenz's need for a confidant is to complain about his fellow nobles who just do not understand what basic human decency is-!! That doesn't matter. It's nice! It's fine! He dissociates only a little whenever Olivine helps him dress and undress, because if he thinks too long about clever fingers undoing all of his buttons in a quick row too much, he will have a nightmare of an explanation to wade through.

It's smooth. It's nice. He's dealing.

They find themselves out on a visit to one of the smaller villages in Gloucester territory that would be routine if not for the threat of bandits, or the alleged threat of bandits, as he's yet to see any one lurking criminal since they've ridden out here. The villagers seem convinced the threat is real, and waste hours of Lorenz's time talking to the local leaders (in this small of a village, also the local priest) and providing no actual evidence of bandit presence. Now in the dimming light of late afternoon he stands with his back to the surrounding forest, squinting into the setting sun at the village's incredibly boring proceedings and feeling like he hasn't helped at all. He sighs.]

Olivine, have I missed something? Have we truly, madly spent our entire day out here, and are now facing the long and dreadful ride home, having found nothing at all and wasted away these many hours, while the people can hardly glance in our direction? I am trying to do right by the commoners in new and more attentive ways, but for every imaginary bandit in the woods...

[He gestures, like, he is only one man and there are a lot of villages, and if his revolutionary new policies of actually seeking out and listening to commoners' concerns leads to his failing to help then the people will not be pleased, augh-- And surely no bandits are actually here. Surely.]

Be honest with me. You have my complete permission. Are my efforts in vain?

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[massochism]

[It had been a simple exchange, in the beginning. A part of life that continued on into the reality of becoming someone else's servant, all the trainings and expectations that came with it. This was his destiny, something he'd been told enthusiastically, year after year. Chosen, for the most illustrious and clandestine of circumstances.

Olivine had not thought twice about it, taking to his new role with ease and warmth. He was already a healer, and already happy to help others, so despite any uncertainty with the letter of it (and the limitation coming from becoming a "servant" officially), he'd settled into it without hesitation. There's no other choice, anyway, so what good would it do to rail against it?

He's brought out of his little country, into the larger one he'll now be living in. A whirlwind of action and then—then he was being introduced to his new charge. Lorenz himself is... beautiful. Tall and elegant. Decent, and easy enough to get along with for him. Olivine can't help but be understanding and encouraging, and so... well, time passes.

Time passes and he continues to get distracted from time to time, carefully keeping his expressions mild in spite of his thoughts. He can't admit the way Lorenz's frenetic energy flickers through him, inspires endless ideas with which to spend his nights alone, thinking of how his hands would feel sliding off the tight fabric and seeing what lay beneath—

It's fine. They're both doing great, with neither really catching the other out in their feelings.

Being out in the villages is a help, perhaps, to push that further aside. It doesn't hurt Olivine's mind any, though it leaves him a little antsy to be out here where Lorenz could get hurt. The noble is trained for this, he reminds himself, and really it seems like it won't be an issue in the first place. The villagers are worried, seemingly jumping at shadows, and too soon the day is spent and light dims.

Some part of him wants to help more, to speak with the priests and see if there's something they're not saying, but... it would be inappropriate. His gaze turns to Lorenz when the other man speaks, a quiet, slightly sad smile drawing over his face. He does not like to see this, hear the uncertainty of it in his voice.

Surely there are no bandits, indeed. Olivine isn't without hesitation even so—he's lived in their small town, unheeded by those in power, for long enough to know just how suddenly anything could go wrong.]

... I don't think so, Sir Lorenz. [His gaze turns briefly to the village, then back to his charge and their surroundings. It can be exhausting, he's sure, especially seeing it from Lorenz's side. But his truth, his honest beliefs... how can he even put them? Green eyes search the landscape, still searching for any movement in the distance.] Though... perhaps there is something we missed. Something the people weren't willing to say to someone they see as above them. I recall many in my time as a local priest where individuals would share their pain with me, knowing that it would never be shared beyond.

It... can be difficult for people to trust after so long, and despite their fear, it may feel less painful to suffer than to have hope and find it shattered again. This is difficult for us, of course, but we must remember that we're trying to help those who have been hurt repeatedly in the past.

[hotproblems]

[The village prepares for the early evening with or without the two of them still lingering there. Lorenz watches a woman in the middle distance sweeping, a child trotting by with a dog, a man already heading for the local tavern... It's the furthest he's ever felt from the people of Gloucester territory, and he spent the entire day here.

It's frustrating. In his less generous moments he might admit it rankles, a little bit, to not be met at least halfway—but Olivine is right, he realizes quickly. Knowing that the sweeping woman's name is Elisabet and she has two sons traveling abroad and she heard shrieks in the forest two nights in a row doesn't change anything about her daily life. It's the same for all of these people; Lorenz listening to their grievances has not elevated their lives, or earned more of their trust.

Not yet, in any case.]

I see.

[He takes a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh, giving Olivine a little smile that's part grateful and part tired.]

Wise as always. You're right, of course; I would be lost without you to ground me. [He sighs again but it's somehow more upbeat, as if he's deciding right now to shoo his frustrations out of the way. He looks towards the road leading out of the village.] I will endeavor to... put myself in their shoes. I expect I will do so clumsily, so please, do let me know.

[hah. he's trying.]

Now then, do we make our way home...? Dusk seems just seconds away.

[massochism]

[he hesitates often, knowing how hard it is for Lorenz to really handle it all. he's a noble, after all—in spite of his good intentions, it's easy to feel anger and disappointment. that's true on both sides, of course, with one feeling as though they're trying their best and the other as though they're not trying at all.

Olivine may consider himself able to bridge the gap, but it doesn't make it less exhausting sometimes. he can only imagine how it must be for Lorenz, given the pressures he's under in addition to his wishes for the future.]

I understand your frustration, still. [warmly, as he always does, he reaches to take Lorenz's hand in his own. it's an action that took some time to get to, a gentle fondness that's far beyond what a servant "should" do. even now, it makes his heart skip to do it, but he focuses first on his charge's comfort than his own thoughts and feelings.] If ever there's anything I can do to help, you need only ask me. I wish nothing more than for you to succeed, my Lord.

[he's so... obvious, he feels, but maybe it's good enough. if they can't have anything, if he's the only one who feels this way... that's fine. it's fine. that touch doesn't linger long enough to be inappropriate either, and Olivine's gaze turns back to the pathway.]

Yes, that seems best. No matter what is or isn't happening here, I'd feel more comfortable if we weren't traveling too late into the evening.

[and maybe, there's a little bit of intuition at work there. Olivine doesn't think the people of the village would just make things up, even if what they were saying wasn't the whole truth of it all. so... dusk is perhaps the most frightening time to be out right now.

it's fine, though. he'll ensure nothing happens to Lorenz. somehow.]

[hotproblems]

[As aware of Olivine's presence as he constantly is, Lorenz can practically feel the warmth radiating from his hand a split second before it actually touches his own. It's a familiar action, and one that brings a similar warmth to bloom in his chest that's at once a cherished comfort and a painful ache. Olivine's touch is soft, and Lorenz hastens to squeeze his fingers in another moment of gratitude before he pulls his hand away.

It's the most they've ever touched outside of what is "acceptable" or accidental. Lorenz gathers himself, reaching up to straighten his collar and fuss at his sleeve cuffs purely to "reset" the moment from his various worries and such an illicit touch.

Alright. He's collected. He's great.]

Your presence alone is a balm on my restless mind. Come, let us gather our things.

[Get the horses ready to go, all that good stuff. Taking care of his horse will calm Lorenz down a little more, at least...]

Perhaps a small squad of knights to patrol the area will assuage the villagers' worries, for a time.

[massochism]

[The shared moment aches so deeply in his chest that Olivine almost says something. It's so hard to just go back to what's correct, what's "ideal" when he wants for nothing more than to invade his space, to take up his thoughts.

How many times has he imagined Lorenz's fingers, moving away from the chaste brush of a hand and upward, to close the space and bring him—]

I think that is a good idea. It should alleviate some of their worries, at least until we can return again.

[He works on gathering their things then, letting Lorenz handle the horses, though he reaches to gently pat his own once they're both set and everything is packed.]

Everything is ready to go, my lord. Simply give the word, and we'll be off.

[He offers it easily, quietly climbing onto his horse. They ought to get going, in any case.]