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[There were many things about Richard in the weight of silence that he didn't know. He expected the reverse was certainly true, but he was willing to bridge the gap and take the first step in hopes that Richard might eventually share as the younger man now and again when they had first met and shown curiosity towards each other.

Perhaps that shame of him being gutterblood would come to the surface. Until then, he had to assume that Richard would tolerate whatever low born status meant, especially in a place where they were no kings or dukes or whatever other silly titles people gave themselves. This place was about what people did or didn't do, what they made of themselves even if it was troublesome.

His hands slid down from Richard's cheeks as their kiss broke, palms stroking either side of the column of the younger man's neck. One hand dropped away to reach out to take one of Richard's in his own. He brought it between them so he could set his lover's hand over the round scar in the middle of his chest. It was a wound that had killed him before he arrived here.

He made a soft hmm noise of contemplation.]

My daughter gave me this scar and the one above. She hadn't meant to, but in the confusion of the moment, I received these wounds.

[He hadn't told anyone that. There were only two conscious people present when he died: Jinx and Vi. It was his secret, the one he carried each day without malice towards his daughter.]

[Richard isn't exactly sure what he was expecting to hear from Silco. Just what kind of dark secret could he be harboring under that calm exterior, and willing to lift the veil enough to have Richard a peek? Well. Whatever his initial thought and expectations were they certainly hadn't gotten anywhere close to the truth.

Fingertips circled around the very familiar scars. Ever since laying his eyes on the injuries on Silco's chest Richard had been very intrigued by them. They were similar yet still so different to scars he'd seen in his own world. But now he could understand their nature a little better, thanks to Mr. Valentine's training. He had seen the damage that bullets could do to different surfaces - and only could only imagine the pain of being on the receiving end.

The revelation does move something in Richard's mind. The neutrality softening in his eyes once again as he lowers his gaze from the man's face to the injuries. He parts his lips slightly as if to say something, but the words die before he can even let out a sound. A flock of questions sprang to his mind, loudest ones being How and Why? Richard was now certain that the girl was indeed a thorn. Something that poisoned the man's mind and will, eating away his ambition and life. Surely, Silco saw this too. So why was she still there and not cut off?

However, the mention of the confusing moment does resonate with him, pulling strings within his core. The sound of shower pouring on them all of the sudden sounded a quite lot like a heavy rain drumming against the thick glass of chapel's windows. Hadn't he done something like this, once upon a time? If Silco could forgive her then maybe,--- No. That thought is best left unfinished.

Richard slides his arm around Silco's frame, pulling the man closer, skin against skin. It is so strange, how all the confusion could just melt away and be replaced by the warm feeling of appreciation. Somehow, he looked up at the man as a father more than before.]

My mother tried to kill me, [He speaks softly, breaking his own silence as he decides to offer something with similar value to the other.] Over and over again. She abandoned me in the forest when I was a child, locked me up in the tower and left me at the mercy of enemy army. She told my secret to lords of royal council in hopes that they would execute me. For that I had to sacrifice my arm. [And yet, despite all the hate between two of them, Richard still could not break free from her. His mother shadow following him even here.] Family is not always perfect.

[His chin tipped down so he could watch Richard touch the round jagged scar on his chest. He knew the younger man had been curious of the old wounds, and he had always been vague about them and the nature of his acquiring them. He supposed they would make more sense now that they had undertaken training with firearms, though he would always prefer a knife.

He expected questions to pull back the veil further on the situation which lead to his own demise at the hands of his daughter. It was an accident in a way, the chaos of the situation driving rational thought from the scene at the click of a firearm which might mean she was under attack. Jinx had never been his target. She reacted on instinct, and he had paid the price for trying to help her by silencing the source of her mental breakdown.

Yet, there were no questions, and he stepped in as that arm wound around him and pulled him in. He didn't resist and pressed Richard against the tiles to feel the warmth and comfort that he found with his lover's body. His fingers stroked down the younger man's side, only to pause when Richard replied with a secret of his own.

He listened, drinking in the information, and mismatched eyes moved to the burnt scarred flesh. He moved his mouth to kiss the top of the scarred shoulder; it seemed that family had given them both many scars. No wonder they found comfort in one another.] Family is never perfect. [He added another kiss the scarred skin.] It doesn't sound like she wanted to kill you herself; she manufactured circumstances in hopes that they might eliminate you but couldn't bring herself to murder her own child. It sounds like you were her thorn as much as she was yours.

[He lifted his head to rest it against Richard's forehead again, peering into those mismatched eyes. A part of this reminded him of Vander, of the failed attempt to murder him and then the other man letting him live once he escaped.] Perhaps the failed attempts by those we cared about are simply us being their shame. Our living on forces them to face a part of themselves they despise... and yet, I expect a part of us still cares for them....

[The press of lips against his scarred skin felt almost ticklish, his damaged nerve-endings reaction to the touch by making the arm twitch a little. It was still somewhat jarring to have such gentle and affectionate gestures displayed towards his injury, despite the mutilation twisting it unsightly and unbearable. Yet another reminder that his body was not one for the light. 'These are the markings of the King,' that is how Buckingham had called the fresh burns on his flesh, kissing them with full of devotion and love. He could not sense the same kind of worship from Silco -- hell, he wasn't sure if the man was even capable of such notion. But still, there was something else present here even if he could not name it. Was it pity? Or maybe... empathy?

A small, almost an inaudible sound leaves from Richard's lips as Silco's words reaches to his ears. The other man did know the whole context. And how hard it would be for his mother to directly strike at him, seeing how high his position was and how much she, just like Richard himself, feared for her mortal soul. But that hadn't stopped her. There had been the case when she had attacked him and aimed for his life. If it hadn't been Buckingham and Catesby, she probably would have succeeded. And yet.. The subtle hint that provoked a daring thought that maybe there could be another reason why his mother hadn't been able to end his life.

His heart swells, the corners of his eyes burning as the tears threatened to force their way out. With his throat tight Richard found himself loss at words. So he just swallows air and tightens his embrace around Silco's frame.

No. He could not dwell on this thought or he'll fall apart.]

But.. You forgave her. [He says weakly, trying to tamper down emotions that were fighting to get a hold of him. While Richard might have poor opinion of Jinx he still respected the bond that she and Silco shared, finding it precious.] Tell.. Tell me more about the night and her confusion.

[Anyone who had to endure scars as extensive as this was someone he didn't mind being around; they understood the pain and suffering of that kind of healing and it was not something that could be explained. Pain on that level had to be experienced. Scars told a story about what someone endured, some good, some bad, some accidental or some purposeful. This arm fit in well with the other mismatch of Richard's body, and if anything he found it even more endearing to touch. Much like how his facial scarring defined him; Richard's arm could define the younger man.

The sound of water hitting them and the floor hid the sound that Richard made regardless of how close his ear was. He did feel the slightly shift of air against his shoulder of course, but as there were no words to follow and instead arms tightening around him, he could understand. He wondered if anyone had discussed such things with Richard before. He then wondered if the younger man would be open to, a slow pondering of the antics of those who wished them harm and ruin.

He turned his face so he could kiss Richard's temple in response, staying physically close for the time being.]

My daughter... yes. [He left the words hanging there. Truth be told, it was easy to forgive Jinx for that incident. Vander was another story, a painful one where a part of him had forgiven the other man and another part relished giving back just a fraction of the pain and suffering that he had endured. A story for another time perhaps.]

You want to hear about the night that I died, do you? We'll surely run out of hot water before that tale comes to a close. Come, let's get out of the shower, and I will provide the abridged version. Or would you prefer to stay for it?

[He never denied enjoying stories and speeches, of course. This was very... personal, laying bare one of his many secrets.]

Just to preface, I was tied to a chair and gagged for most of it.

[It is truly only so often that one can find another soul who understands the necessity of having to sacrifice part of your body. Someone else who's resolve is strong enough to carry both the physical and mental toll it takes on them. And yet, not regretting the choice behind it, willing to do it again if the situation were to call for it. So far Silco had given vague reasons for his own mutilation, something about betrayal of sorts, but something told Richard that the other man would not hesitate to repeat it if it meant that he could reach the heights he had. At least that was the case for Richard.

Richard presses his forehead against Silco's front, burying his face into the column of the older man's neck. There is something very calming in feeling the other man's heartbeat against his own chest and the faint breeze of breath on ear. They smooth the ripples caused by anxiety, quieting down the trepidation of his own rapid heartbeat. The kiss against his temple does cause him lose the tension from his body, relaxing against Silco.

He might not be out of the wooden maze yet, he never was, but the tight embrace that caged him against the cool tile walls did create a small bubble just for them -- keeping Richard away from the nightmares.

He almost didn't want to let go, preferring to stay in this comforting darkness with the other. That is, of course, until Silco's another revelation forced his attention back to the present, drawing his attention to the shower that he had nearly forgotten about. The calmness in him is short-lived as the mention of his initial death is brought up. His chest tightens all of the sudden, making his stomach drop. Hesitantly, Richard lifts chin, unsure eyes looking up at the other man.

Why? Why did this drag out such strong reaction out of him? Richard already knew that Silco had died in his own world. And he had assumed that the bullet wounds were part of that story. So, why did this shook him so?]

Aye. Let us move. [He whispers and dibs his head down to press a gentle kiss on the upper wound.] I shall listen to and carry whatever darkness you have to share.

Edited 2024-09-21 02:48 (UTC)

[He slowly disentangled one arm from holding Richard so that he could turn off the water of the shower, leaving them holding each other in the quiet steam for a moment longer. He tipped his chin to peer at the younger man, his one eyebrow drawing down and towards his nose in a frown at the uncertainty in Richard's expression.

The hand that had shut off the shower moved in to cup the younger man's cheek, stroking his thumb under Richard's eye as he tried to discern the shift. Had the mother tied him up as a boy? Gagged him so he couldn't call for help? He was reminded of the Doctor's words out of context here, 'sometimes death is a mercy'. She might not have killed her son, but he had seen the torment one could inflict on another time and time again, especially children. Tied to a chair in a corner wasn't an uncommon 'time-out'.

He mentally prompted himself to lean down and kiss the top of Richard's head before he pulled them both off of the wall. With his arm still around Richard, he pulled them to the edge of the shower where he could grab a towel and drape it over the younger man's head and shoulders, stepping away enough to hand off the edges to Richard.]

I had saved her from certain death, but the effects left her mind paranoid. She overhead a conversation that lead her to believe that I would betray her when the opposite was true. [If she had simply done her usual minor physical assault to get answers, he could have explained. Instead, her paranoia had driven her to use more force than usual to rendered him unconscious.] As I'm sure you know, politics can be... dramatic. She felt she had to make a choice between who she used to be and who she was with myself and someone she was sisters with. [Is, was, no difference to him.] Her and myself were tied to chairs to prevent escape; I was gagged and there was another who... was a source of conflict between Jinx and her sister.

[His hands lifted and rub the towel over Richard's hair like this was a perfectly normal conversation. Truth be told, he kept his hands busy to distract himself from remembering the details.] I don't know if she intended to let me speak at all at first. She did eventually remove the gag, but the situation became out of control when one escaped bindings and leveled a weapon at Jinx. She defended herself. The sister...

[He trailed off, his jaw working before he shook his head to pull himself out of the memory. Jinx had always responded to him, the steady calm that he brought to her episodes. He knew all the signs of her falling into the voices, the hallucinations, the confused terror that came with them when they were beyond reasoning. Instinctively, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, then realized his tell and dropped his hand away.]

Family can be the ties that bind or the ones that break everything apart... Come, let's get you out of the shower.

[When the shower is cut off it doesn't take long for the warm steam to evaporate around them. The chill air against his damp skin causes shivers to ran through Richard's spine, making him shudder. But yet, despite of it all, he did not feel the least cold when standing in there, on the arms of the other man. The almost uncharacteristically gentle kiss on top of his head manages to quell some of the anxieties storming in his mind, chasing away some of the restlessness from his body. While the gesture might for Silco's sake, calming his nerves as he tries to find a way to approach the dark tale of his past, it definitely is smart move considering Richard's state. When they finally pull apart from the embrace, Richard does not fret nor fear, instead of only looking down at their joined hands as they walk across the bathroom.

The forest is not as threatening anymore.

He pulls the blanket further on himself, and turns his eyes back up to Silco. There still traces of distress in his face, brows knitted together into a frown as he listens to the story that the other man weaves to him. Richard bows his head down just a notch as Silco proceeds to dry off his hair, but other than that he stays still like a statue, allowing his companion to take the time and space he needs to finish his words.

There is something very familiar in the scene that Silco describes to him. Of course, he could not really relate to the dramatic confrontation with the hostages, but other than that? Having to choose which direction to go, which voice to listen to. Which future to choose for himself. Both Joan and father leading him to different paths towards to Henry. Choosing George's fate. Buckingham pinning him down on the bed of rose petals, forcing the darkness out of him.

His thoughts led him to the first time when Silco had talked to him about his death. And how he had chosen to spend his last moments before the angel of death had claimed him. Closing his eyes, Richard reaches to take Silco's hand to his own and brings it up to against his cheek, leaning into it and nuzzling gently to it.]

I feel my respect towards you grown ten-fold. [He says, voice soft and gentle -- just like the brief kiss he places on middle of Silco's palm.] I see you found the light and held it in your hands.

[While Richard did seem calmer, he noted the obvious expression of distress on the younger man's face and considered leaving the story there. He expected that whatever he had to say next may be the most triggering part for Richard who seemed to suffer similar internal struggles when pushed in certain directions. He was aware that Richard had an interesting family with the way the younger man praised the father and described his two brothers and now he had insight to Richard's mother.

His words trailed off as his hand was moved and placed against his lover's cheek, stretching his fingers so that Richard could nuzzle his palm. He blinked in mild surprise at the words. People respected him because they feared him for the most part. He was used to be questioned or disparaged for how he treated his daughter, the lengths he would go to and the opportunities he would provide for her despite her own behaviour making her difficult at times.] No, I don't think so. My path has always led me to exist and thrive in darkness. My daughter is the one person that perhaps showed some light to me, but we also exist in darkness together.

[His fingers curled to caress the side of Richard's face where the younger man was nuzzling him. He didn't try to remove his hand from that grip, closing his blue eye as he recalled the sharp details of that tea party.]

Her sister has a habit ramming through all situations and making them worse. She tried to push my daughter to remembering painful past memories, to remember being a person who had to be put to rest for Jinx to exist. Those memories and all the monsters that come with them sent Jinx into a confused tormented episode. I tried to stop it, but tied up... I was limited, but previous fortuitous events put a weapon close to me. So I tried to silence that ignorant stupid girl, but... Jinx when she is in such a state is very reactive. [He paused to sigh again as this part was hazy when everything happened so fast. If only he hadn't missed that shot...] In the act of defending Jinx, she simply reacted as I assume she thought she was in danger and turned her weapon on me...

[He shook his head, leaning his head closer to Richard's for a moment. He remembered that pain, the struggle to breathe, the shock of realizing he was going to die with his empire at his feet with no way to salvage. Dying the in darkness where he deserved he supposed.] And then I ended up here....

[Richard has never feared a man. A mere human could not hold a light to a candle that were the demons accompanying his every waking moment. As long as it was made of flesh and bone, Richard knew he could cut through it. There was no reason for him to be afraid of such thorns. No, Richard's respect, as rare it was, stemmed from the admiration and love. And Silco held at least one of those qualities currently.

The skin of Silco's palm feels nice and rough against Richard's softness of cheek. He slid his own much smaller hand on top of Silco's, holding the touch close as he listened the rest of the story.

The other man was right to assume that there would be bits and pieces that did resonate with Richard. He knew very well what it was like to be lost on that fog. Scrambling through the thick forest with no light to guide his way, grasping on the smallest sliver of hope while also seeing shadows of dangers at every turn. The only way out of that nightmare was ice cold death, destroying part themselves with it. For Richard it had been Henry. For Jinx. Apparently Silco.

He could understand.]

I.. look nothing like my father or brothers. [He says softly after Silco finishes his story.] They were all big and strong. Fair hair, muscles of steel and handsome faces. Like the valiant heroes from the stories of the past. [They were beautiful, beings of like. Unlike him. And Silco. Richard slowly opens his eyes and looks up to Silco again -- the initial distress now mellowed down.] And yet, the bond we shared was stronger than with anyone else, the most special. He was my light. And I see the same between you and your daughter. [A hint of admiration raises to his voice as he says the last sentence. He has no doubt that Silco is the light to Jinx and vice versa. Now how did this revelation affect to how Richard felt about the duo? Despite this new born sympathy towards the girl he still couldn't claim to like her, not with her antics and harassment. And he wasn't convinced that she wasn't yet another thorn on Silco's side.]

You are here now. And still support her. I find that respectable.

Edited (What an embarrassing typo) 2024-09-28 19:46 (UTC)

[Over the course of their interactions, he had noticed similarities between Richard and Jinx when it came to their mental torments. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had first taken notice aside from the scarring, though Richard had a silent control of his afflictions until the younger man went berserk such as with the communicator.

A part of him wondered if Richard had lost control and killed someone close, or if that control had been maintained and only lashed out during war and battles. He hadn't asked and now didn't seem like the appropriate time to do so. They had finally reached a calm and a compromise of secret exchange to build their situation upon.

And perhaps for others and Richard himself, such a declaration would be upsetting and suspicious. For Silco, family was less about blood and more about association and ties that bound. Adoption was very common given the high mortality rate in the Undercity.] And you do not find your own appearance to their level then? Dark haired, lithe and athletic with a moody air about you? I expect you still strike a handsome pose when leading your troops to war against your family's enemies. [He shrugged and curled his fingers against Richard's cheek.] I prefer your look compared to what you described from your other family members.

[He nodded his head at the mention of light, slowly formulating what it meant given the often references to it. He found it clear that the younger man had a special bond with his late father.] Where I am from family is what you make of it, not the blood that runs in your veins. Adults die in the mines or other means, leaving their children to find their own way. People make family together, as I did with Jinx. It's the bond that's important, isn't it?

[He hummed, nodding his head. Whether it was respected or not, he could continue to support his only child for as long as she needed him to. He did it for him too, of course, finding and being possessive over the family unit that he had made with her.]

You support your own son in such a way? Or is he simply the heir for namesake and little more than that?

[He moved to grab the other towel for himself, draping it over one shoulder as until he could claim his hand back. He was not in that much of a hurry to do so, liking the feel of Richard's warm smooth skin under his fingers.]

[The corners of his lips slowly curl up, imitating a smile but never quite reaching it. He supposes that only a man like Silco could say something like that. But that was because they were the same, the lurkers of darkness. Richard supposes that getting too close to from light would be too blinding for them.] Handsome and inspiring, yes. Until you look closer and see the demon horns.

[There is a hint of defeatism in that admittance. Richard closed his eyes, pressing his face against the warmth of Silco's palm, enjoying from the simple affection. It wasn't in his intention to make the moment about him. Silco had just revealed a hurtful scar of his past. So Richard had decided to do the same. Both of them again sharing yet another raw and vulnerable moment together. Like during the night they had found each other for the first time.

Richard doesn't try to stop Silco from moving away, allowing the hand slip away from his own. He grabs the edges of the towel and pulls is more securely around himself.]

Once he is old enough, yes. If he'll have me. [The jury was still admittedly out on that matter. Richard barely knew the small child living in his castle and carrying his name and legacy. A heavily necessary part of his plans and ambitions, yet there was no connection between them. Or so Richard wanted to believe. The distant memory of the small body crying in the darkness, looking for comfort from him instead of Anne.] In any case, I believe he will grow up to be a fine man.

Hmm, no that's not it. Horns or no, you're still beautiful. [He had once gone for those larger and wider than himself, people who could offer a manner of protection with their physicality. These days he paid people to fit that role and had no use for them as a manner of attraction. Richard might not believe his candor, but it was truth. Richard was opposite to what he was normally attracted to, and he expected that was why they were making it work. There was a beauty and a grace he hadn't seen in others; maybe it was that royal blood or something.

He grabbed the towel and quickly dried off his short hair before wrapping the towel around his waist. Soon enough, he would have to dress and leave to spend time with his daughter, obligations he was yet unwilling to miss.

Until that time though, he stayed close to Richard in the bathroom.] Does he carry aspects of your appearance, or does he take many of his characteristics from his mother? [Silco had his suspicions about Richard's child, but they remained completely unvoiced. For him, it didn't matter. Being a parent was a duty not suited to everyone; he had believed it didn't suit him for a very long time.]

[This is not the first time when Silco had called him beautiful, directly or not. It had been that acceptance born from fearless curiosity towards the abnormalities of Richard's body that had caught his interest. There had been no judgement or disdain from the older man when Richard had revealed his body to him for the first time.

However, unlike the previous times, the words did not quite reach him. There is no hope blossoming in his chest, no shy warmth spreading to his cheeks or desire rekindling within him. Instead, there was almost a sad hum of acknowledgement from him, fingers curling around the soft edges of the towel. 'Beautiful with or without horns,' or so he says. Richard can't help but wonder what he would say if he truly saw his brothers, wrapped in golden light. Would Silco be mesmerized by their beauty or run away from their blinding light.

He's not entirely sure what he feels about the subject moving to his young son. But he supposed that it was normal for parents to talk about their children. But the boy was basically a stranger to him. Yet another person that he kept at arm's length]

He is like a spitting image of his mother. [He nods, stepping outside of the bathroom now that they're both dry.] He was born during the time of peace, so he has had more freedom than what me and my brothers did in our childhood. And so far it appears that his interests lie in different subjects as I did at his age.

[Silco was perceptive enough to know what that sort of reaction meant, and he knew that his lover internalized considerable self hatred and struggled to 'measure up' to what would be considered 'a real man'. That was fine; neither he nor Richard measured up to the typical socially accepted standards of revered manhood. Perhaps that was why their jagged pieces fit so well together thusfar.]

Don't do that, Richard. [He followed the younger man from the bathroom, reaching out to stroke his fingertips across the back of Richard's shoulders.] You are my lover, and my attraction to you is multifaceted, which does include your body exactly as it is. What other people think or even the idea of physical ideals is to chain you to misery. You are beautiful to me.

[Building Richard's confidence was one of his personal projects. He expected the younger man could thrive with a constant encouraging force that would not walk away or wane. They might even have all the time in the world to do it.]

So you have trouble bonding with him then? I was the same with Jinx when she first came into my life. [Miller was the only other person he could talk to about parenthood. He noticed Richard took very little interest in the responsibilities but perhaps that was his station. He wouldn't know.]

[ He feels the press of the fingertips on his shoulder through the fabric of the towel. Richard turns his head to side to look at Silco, hints of confusion on his face. 'Do what?' He almost asks, but before even a sound can leave from him he thinks he catches on the meaning. He's shutting off into the maze of his own mind again, closing the doors and windows around him. This isn't the first time Silco has called him out on this behavior, is it?

For a brief second Richard lets his eyes wander around the features of Silco's face. And for that short-lived moment he allows something raw and vulnerable to be reflected in his eyes as he tries to form his thoughts. He's never really been in a situation like this, not even with Buckingham. There was times when his kingmaker would look for answers to his silence, but never like this. So direct and perceptive. Was this what having a lover without any premeditated goals was like?

And just like always when Richard fell short of words, he submitted to silence. Suddenly the topic of parenthood seemed rather appealing.]

..Did you ever fear of her rejecting you?

[This time, Silco didn't call out the silence. The look that Richard gave him was answer enough, knowing the younger man realized what was happening and maybe not correct it but not contest it either. Without further word, he stepped in to press his chest to Richard's back, sliding his arms around the younger man's waist so he could lace his own hands together.

As a point of accepting the silence and the vulnerability that came with the silence, he simply hooked his chin over Richard's shoulders and remained a close presence. Nothing more, nothing less. That was as far as that portion of the conversation had to go, but he remained willing if his lover wished to pursue further.

He considered for a long quiet moment the question, and then he simply shrugged his bare shoulders.]

Not back then. She was... a mess. I provided her a home, a family and all the protections she needed. My attachment to her came... later. Yes, I felt an initial draw, but I didn't fully embrace being her parent until months into it. At first, I expected her to run away. We... didn't have much in common, but I provided her the space to simply exist with me if she chose to. Then I provided opportunity to rise above all those who doubted her.

Once I found myself attached? I did fear her rejection. I was a monster and I had to do terrible things to get what I wanted. I did it, and I don't regret any of it. If she rejected me, well... it was never meant to be, was it?

[Taking a deep breath Richard allows himself to rest against the other man, the slender fingers curling around the larger ones as he indulges in the embrace. The arms around him felt strong and warm, wrapping him into a protective hold. When was last time he had something like this? He and Silco had shared plenty of intimate moments with each other, bodies clashing together in heated passion -- but never quite like this. Closeness without assumption of sex or anything else. Just comfort.

Closing his eyes, Richard listens to Silco's words and looking for similarities between their experiences. And oh, it appears that there are more common ground than what he had initially believed.

When Anne's pregnancy had become obvious Richard hadn't wasted a second to claim responsibility for it. It had been like a gift from above, saving him from lot of scrutiny and doubts towards his person. He needed an heir and Anne had offered him one on silver platter. Originally, he had planned the boy to be just that. A just another set piece in the theater he called life - no feelings, no attachments. But then again.. Being held like this and listening to Silco's talking about his daughter made him think back to that one silent night, where the small boy had sought comfort and love from him. As a child would from parent.]

You never told me... Why did you take her in to begin with? [Silco wasn't like him. He wasn't tied into the expectations of society, nor did he care for importance of blood. If he truly hadn't wished for a daughter, why not just leave the girl to die?]

[It was strange standing here like this, right? It wasn't a normal that he expected to have or actually initiate. It seemed to him that all those mental reminders were clearly paying off, and he had found himself growing more and more comfortable in these kinds of interactions. If he allowed himself to think about it, they both seemed to be growing rather comfortable together in such a way.

On the topic of parenthood, it wasn't particularly one that was with equal sharing. After all, Silco was very pleased and proud to be a father, which seemed so opposite to how he had been two decades ago. His city welcomed people that took in children, and they didn't dissuade those took advantage of child labour either.

His arms tightened around Richard's waist at the question.]

We shared a similar moment of violent abandonment by our first families. [For once, he didn't take the opportunity to over talk the matter.] Did you hold him when he was born? Your son?

[There is a small trepidation aching in Richard's chest at the mention of "abandonment." The tension flares up in his body, trapping the air in his lungs and making his throat feel painfully tight. And once again, he could not stop the howling wind rustling the leaves of dark woods. He could see the shadows of the trees raising again, reaching for them. There was no denying it... Richard felt sad. But for who?

Instead of addressing those thoughts he focuses on Silco's question. How... How had it gone again?]

Not.. Not right away. [He swallows around his words, thinking back to that moment.] I wasn't there when Anne went in labor. I was only allowed inside when it was over. That is common practice in my world among the nobles. But yes, I did hold him, then. [What kind of father wouldn't hold his newborn heir? It had been all an act. The small human being sleeping in his arms, all while he exchanged knowing looks with each other. They both accepted the child.]

Do you think it is weird? That this body of mine could produce something like that. A normal human being.

[He understood from select conversations that abandonment was a sore topic for the pair of them. Perhaps it was why he didn't elaborate in case it triggered his lover, and perhaps the moment itself couldn't be explained well in words without a considerable amount of very private backstory.

He nodded his head, accepting the explanation without judgement. He could claim to have held exactly zero babies in his life, and he wasn't looking for any opportunity to do so. His daughter had been fully functional when he had first held her there on the wet ground with the rain pouring on them. He had promised to protect her then.]

I doubt that's uncommon where I'm from either. It seems to me that men tend to get in the way for such events. [He credited Richard for holding the newborn at all. He expected they were small and fragile; it was probably some manner of sick joke or miracle he and Richard had survived infancy.

He regarded Richard, considering the question and shrugging.] No, it's not. Besides, being a father is more than impregnating a woman. [If Richard could produce children, then he expected that Richard couldn't carry a child. Just as well, as the younger man leaned more heavily on that male side. Who was he to judge for it?]

[The similarities between two of them kept increasing after each discussion, it seems. Though, strangely enough it stopped Richard to think just how little he knew of Silco and his past. The man spoke proudly of Zaun and his daughter, but only so rarely muttered a word about himself. Something Richard was guilty of as well. But unlike the other man, Richard didn't seek out the answers to the mysteries - preferring to focus on the present than in the past.

However, it would be a lie to say that his disregard for his lovers past wasn't colored at least somewhat by their class differences. No matter how much he admired and found the other man intriguing Silco still was a peasant compared to him. Hardships and tragedies were part of their lives, struggles engraved on their backs by the hard work and scarcity of the resources. And yet, Richard found his heart aching in solidarity at the thought of the abandonment that the man must've gone through.

Closing his eyes, Richard leaned his head against Silco's cheek - lulling into the embrace. He might be in the forest, but for now he could tell that he wasn't alone.

There's a small smile on his lips at the statement. As much as Richard valued bloodlines and such, he couldn't help but agree with Silco. The man was as true father to his daughter as Richard's had been to him.]

And yet. Impregnating a woman is the true measure of the man. [Something that Richard didn't know if he was capable of. And quite frankly? He was too terrified to find out the true limitations of this cursed body.

Swallowing air he remembered Silco's words from the earlier. My attraction to you is multifaceted. And that he liked him just as he was. But he still couldn't help but ask:] Which one you like, then? A man or woman?

[Betrayal stung. It was a fact of life that it shaped their lives regardless of where they came from or who they associated with. He didn't particularly want to bring up the reason for it or the person who had been so important that abandonment had stung and wounded him that deeply. He had mostly gotten over it by now, of course, but he understood the pain of that, especially when Jinx had come into his life.

He had ached for Vander to admit he was right. He had desired the other man to join him in taking it to Piltover together as they had discussed all those years ago. Instead, he had been left empty for both of those, and found a shivering crying child who had suffered a similar rejection that how could he not see himself in her?

His arms tightened as a little embrace from where they were fixed around his lover's waist, and he was staring off across the room as he felt Richard nestled further into his embrace. However, he snorted in amusement at the statement, rolling his eyes. It was true but also ridiculous.]

But should it be? If being a man comes down to a single climax into a woman, we should be rethinking our standards of maleness. [He had never sired a child, and he never had any intention of it, not even when he was young and could consider the value of a family. After all, his own background soured him to the notion; was his father truly a man for paying his mother for sex and happening to hit the mark? So illogical.

He lifted his chin a little from Richard's shoulder so he could turn his gaze on his lover. He supposed that question hadn't come out of the blue entirely, given the current topic of conversation.] I like both. I'm bisexual. [He tipped his temple to rest on Richard's again.] Hence why I say you are the best of both worlds. [A beat.] Do you have a preference between male and female?

[It was ridiculous, especially when put in words like that. But Richard had never really thought to challenge the thought before, just assuming it to be right as he went along with the currents of the world, acting the role he had been given in the society.] My brothers never did as much as scoff at my appearance, despite falling short on the standards of manhood. Nay, his Majesty believed that the measure of a man was not decided by the size of his muscles, but by the approval of women and strength of his seed.

[Something that he had found equally ridiculous at the time, believing himself that the manhood was proved by the strength of his blade. George, as usual, hadn't had much to say - escaping to his drink. Richard's stance on the matter hadn't changed. Man who didn't fight was no man at all.

Feeling the subtle shift in the body behind him, Richard slowly opened his eyes, peeking underneath his long lashes. There was that word again. "Bisexual". Richard had seen it thrown around the network. It had been also used by AI to describe him in that bizarre person catalogue. So, that's what it meant. And well, to be frank, it didn't surprise him the least that Silco was one to embrace sin and sodomy. But he had assumed that there was something specific he was looking for when laying with him.]

No. I.. I have never thought about it. [Which was true. Richard could find women beautiful and men handsome - but there had always been very little attraction on his part. The people he preferred were those who he could be himself with.]

Edited 2024-10-25 14:47 (UTC)

[Silco audibly scoffed at the ideas of 'his betters' sitting upon a throne in some place no one reasonably cared about preaching about things that one might have the liberty to at the cost of everyone downhill from that position. Of course, he would have opinions, but he wisely decided not to voice them all that much at this point in time.] Well then, I suppose I fall very far below his standards. Fitting given I doubt his majesty would never give me a second look to start with.

[And that was just as well too. He was far better at stabbing the rich in the back or taking his own personal wars to them by any means necessary. He remained there still holding Richard, and he found himself wondering what Richard's version of manhood was. The younger man expressed others opinions after all, likely based around society's expectations.]

What do you consider a good measure of a man then?

[He hummed softly, not surprised that Richard hadn't considered a preference. He supposed when one spent that long hiding themselves away and going silent to having an overt opinion at times on top of a seemingly conservative repressed society, determining one's sexual preferences was high on the list of priorities.]

You seem the type to care less about one's sex and more about intellectual or someone that makes you feel comfortable. Am I at all close?

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cw: child abuse

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