Am I beast or am I human? [closed]

[curruid_coinchenn]

Who: Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) and Waver Velvet
When: July-ish
Where: Diarmuid and Waver's apartment
What: Two people bonded to the same person meet
Warnings: none


Berserker is fast asleep on the couch, deciding to sleep there instead of with Diarmuid. When the Lancer fell asleep, he excused himself. Not that he wanted to be alone, but it was the easier path -- neither would wake each other that way. Normally, he's a very light sleeper unless he feels safe and safety for him is a luxury. He didn't even stir when the Lancer left the apartment to avoid what would be a very awkward situation.

There's a moment when he hears something in his sleep and starts to stir. Half-asleep and half-dressed, the groggy dragon lifts his head at the noise.

"...Are you up, Diarmuid?" he asks, not even sure if he heard a person. Safety is the only reason he isn't immediately hostile.

Comments

[tryhard]

Despite everything, the touch helps almost instantly. It strengthens their connection, the thin echoes of their Bond solidifying, as real as the feeling of Diarmuid’s skin against the back of Waver’s hand, breath warm against his slim fingers. Waver can feel his earnest hope, his regret. It’s clear Diarmuid means every word he says; at the very least, it’s true to him.

With a soft, shaky exhale, Waver squeezes his fingers gently around Diarmuid’s beneath them, then lets go to allow him to stand. His own eyes linger on the Lancer’s face as he looks up at his other Bonded, but even if the connection isn’t between them, Waver can feel the tension in the air. He can sense the discomfort, Berserker’s awkwardness in not knowing what to say or do. That feeling of being an outsider is one Waver can understand well enough, even if he doesn’t understand the circumstances.

If Berserker wants to leave, Waver won’t stop him or ask him to stay. He’s not that selfless. But he won’t argue either if Diarmuid asks him to. He doesn’t answer, but Diarmuid can probably feel him growing calmer after the reassurance. He waits.

[ua_duibhne]

It's like a breath being released in a slow sigh. As the tension in Waver and Diarmuid's bond releases, so does that in his shoulders and he takes a moment to brush a silky strand of dark hair back behind the mage's ear. As much as he wants to prolong the contact, though, there's someone else just as important he needs to face.

He turns to Berserker. What a complex rush of a emotions it must be for someone who normally feels nothing to be flooded with ones even the most empathetic of people would be overwhelmed by. Two states of mind, one clear but complicated and the other clouded by proxy but no less difficult to process, alongside what he's starting to pick up on as Berserker's own, conflicted feelings. They're surprisingly delicate for such a beast of a man, almost completely inperceptible but beating with a heart of their own. They're out of his reach for now but maybe with time-

Diarmuid doesn't want him to go but he doesn't want to push an already fragile situation to its breaking point either.

In the end, all he can do is try and be sensitive. The Lancer heads over and rests one hand on his chest, just beneath his still open shirt. The touch is light enough to allow him to brush it away if he so chooses but Diarmuid's hoping he won't.

"I truly am sorry that my foolishness caused such chaos. I... won't stop you if you want to leave," he says softly, "but know that I want you here."

It's a fight not to call him Cú.

[curruid_coinchenn]

It's a terribly delicate situation. His heart pounds beneath Diarmuid's hand, though the touch does soothe him just a little bit. A dull ache throbs inside him for reasons he doesn't understand. Physical pain he can tolerate, but this is something different. A wound he can't nurse, an injury he can't deal with.

Stiff beneath the other's touch, he finally relaxes. He raises a shaky hand to clasp it over Diarmuid's. To be this weak, this vulnerable on top of everything else is too much. Run, his mind screams at him. He can't. He can't shut hmself off again. His expression hardens with a renewed resolve.

"...I made a promise to you as Cú Chulainn." There's no fear of Waver hearing his True Name -- perhaps it was out of fairness he offered it. "I told you not to let me push you away. But I have to hold myself to that, as well. It's an unfair burden for you to bear, my knight."

He wants to offer some kind of softness beyond taking his hand in his own, but he hesitates. Waver doesn't need to see him anymore vulnerable than he already has. A small concession he allows himself is to lean down and rest his forehead against Diarmuid's. The gentle affection soothes some of the turmoil inside him. Anything to calm that down right now is welcome.

"I'll stay for now."

[tryhard]

Now, it's Waver who feels awkward watching their affection. He hangs back, his fingers following the motion of Diarmuid's in a belated echo as he tucks back his hair even though it doesn't need it. While they reaffirm their Bond as well, Waver takes a few steps back, quietly moves to pick up his fallen blanket and fold it, start tidying up the kitchen. Coffee can be attempted again in a few minutes.

It feels invasive to listen, but he can't help but be curious too, and Waver takes note of Berserker's True Name-- which sounds a little familiar, but doesn't mean anything in particular to him. Unfortunately, he doubts this place would have literature on old Earth heroes, so his curiosity may go unanswered for now, until he feels comfortable asking Diarmuid about it.

In any case, he also feels better with the tension easing in the room. He's noticed the smell of the pastries by now too and goes to pick the bag up off the floor and set it on the kitchen counter, pretend-busying himself so he's not staring invasively at their moment of affection.

When Berserker decides to stay, Waver looks back up. All right. Take two.

"Then let's stop standing around. Lancer, coffee or tea?"

fml lost this tag

[ua_duibhne]

My knight. It's fantastical indulgence to the extreme but hearing him say that again strips away whatever tension remained in his body after the unexpected relief of his agreeing to stay. It wasn't necessary. Nothing that Berserker just did was necessary- on the contrary, he was only making things harder for himself and giving a glimpse of something vulnerable to a near stranger by staying- and yet he did it anyway. For him. He did it for him. Deep as the trust between them runs, Diarmuid's still quietly amazed by the realisation that he's making an effort for his sake. That he's worth that much to him.

But to call attention to it would embarrass them both. Instead, he clasps his hand and, amber eyes wide with gratitude (and no small amount of affection), half whispers, half mouths a simple: thank you.

China clinks. Cups. Saucers. Hot drinks ready to be made. It's the sound of domesticity that, thankfully, drags him out of his daydream and stops the moment from becoming any more sentimental than he's entirely comfortable with. Diarmuid gives his hand one last squeeze and turns back to Waver. The other third of this increasingly bizarre triangle.

"Coffee- and there's no need to call me that when it's just the three of us, Waver." He gives him a small, gentle smile. "Diarmuid is fine if you prefer it."

[curruid_coinchenn]

Berserker smiles faintly at the thanks before letting apathy settle back over him. With that settled, the urge to run away lessened to a quiet nagging in the back of his mind. That he could ignore -- it's no longer screaming at him. The tension in his body relaxes and he looks the same as before: completely disinterested in the world around him.

He does take a moment to button up his shirt out of courtesy. Being considerate if not something that comes naturally to him, though he'd try to make at least a token effort for the moment. It would take more yelling and scolding for him to not walk around half-dressed on a regular basis.

"Maybe this time you'll finish making it," he says to Waver, a gentle jab. It's a joke at his expense, the only type he knows how to make.

[tryhard]

Mostly, it's just been habit to call him Lancer. It feels weirdly intimate calling a Servant by name, in a way... but there's no need for their classes here, and if Diarmuid wants to be called by his name, Waver can oblige. They're... friends, right?

"Okay. Diarmuid." It feels odd, but not bad. Waver smiles back tentatively.

Berserker's little joke quickly makes the beginnings of that smile slide away though. Waver's lips purse, and he shoots the larger man a flat glare.

"Maybe this time you'll let me."