makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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Chris settles down on the temple's stoop, the stairs this time he'd made generic as opposed to a copy of the old Sonom house. It was better like that. Less distracting. Though he almost wishes for the distraction with the way the conversation turns.

"I'll clean up in a bit. I didn't bury them...I left that for him to do. I...unburied them, I guess. An old fisherman who's worked my family's docks since my parents' time and a kid from a neighboring town were retrieving bodies from the wreckage of homes. From the initial razing of the city." Chris picks at the conjured stone and watches the tendrils of Jon's smoke drift into the air.

"There weren't many basements in Melvaunt, but this was one of them. They got trapped there when Zenethil attacked...and later when the dragon came. There's no one left of that family to bury them; they'll probably be put to the pyre for how many dead they're recovering...at least they'll be together. Like they were at the end. I'd only talked to them once...but I remember them introducing their son to me, he was old enough to start seeking his own employ...I think they were hoping the Sonom family would have use for a private tailor."

It's grim talk in a day that's been full of it. The day before hadn't been much better, but Jon knows he can't allow himself to crack further. He'd had his moment in the gentle silence of Chris' magic.

"Pity." The Archivist takes another drag before offering the cigarette down to the cleric if he wants it. "I suppose that's... what we'll be dealing with while we stay here. More lost than might be found." His eyes flick to Chris briefly, before turning back out to the landscape. "Still, we have a direction, each other. And what abilities we maintain for the time being.

"I did tell Wolfe I'm, uh... I'm worried my nature might mean I fade faster than he does. Knowing things, even when I'm not trying to, feeling all of you, people in general." God, this awkward. But Wolfe had told him he should ask Chris about setting consequences. "I can't stop those things happening, but there are some things within my control. More or less."

There's a long pause before he continues. "You're not my... if I use my powers when I shouldn't, I need someone to hold me accountable. You're the person I trust most to have a handle on what constitutes 'necessary' and what's me... reaching for a reason. We're both practical men. Sometimes I might have to use them before we're written into the Weave, especially if there's some sort of trial or quest we have to go on to satisfy Mystra. But I don't... I don't want to lose myself sooner than I have to. For everyone's sake."

He trails off into silence, unsure how to ask more directly. Putting a label like 'dominant' on it feels wrong, but it's the vocabulary he's most used to reaching for.

The smoke turns into the whole cigarette offered, and Chris contemplates it a moment before taking it from his partner. He'd dabbled in Earth's smoking when he'd worked at the theatre, but hadn't taken to it any more than he took to smoking here. Still, the familiarity of the action held appeal enough.

He lets the smoke out from his mouth slow so he can choose the order of his words before answering. "Well...I did want to talk to you about...all of this. Didn't expect it to be one conversation, but I don't mind."

Chris holds the stick back to Jon and catches his eyes along with it. "I want to be whatever you need me to be...and I know...as dependent as you and I have gotten over the years, that's not likely to get any better with our social circles as limited as they're like to be. So let me say: I intend to love you and care for you and keep you whole and happy as best as I can beyond our dying days...and if that includes taking you out of your head for a bit or putting you back in your place for a misstep, I'll do that happily. It'll be for both of us, I can assure you."

He looks down at Patience, who was fully enjoying her role as a foot warmer, then back up to Jon, his expression shifting to something a little harder. More determined. "And as practical men...I fully intend to find people who don't deserve the comfort of an easy night's rest to help keep you whole as long as we need. Trust me to help you with that, and I'll trust you should you find suitable victims. The Raven Queen says I'm to end the lives of those who are deserving and cause suffering to the honest living...she says nothing specific about how to end those lives."

Jon can feel some sense of relief mixed with shame. They're not in Duplicity anymore. He shouldn't need this sort of thing. But then again, hadn't he needed it at home, as well? Basira had been his self-appointed keeper and Martin after her. There had been significantly more affection with the former than the latter, and Basira had definitely held him to a higher standard than he thinks Martin ever could. Which puts Chris somewhere in the middle of them. Affectionate, but firm in a way that Martin struggled to be at times.

"Right. Thank you. That's- It's good. I love you, as well." He feels the flush on his cheeks as he accepts the cigarette and takes a quick drag for something to do. There's a part of him that wants to kiss Chris, but that feels... odd right at the moment. Another part of him wants to settle himself in the other man's lap and cuddle close to him for the warmth and the comfort, but that is entirely out of the question. Jon doesn't particularly want dead people bits on him, and Chris really needs to clean up before the Archivist wraps his arms around the cleric again.

All the better because the conversation takes a darker turn that's... probably needed. Jon plays with the cigarette as he considers. "All right. We- I don't think Amelia would care, but Wolfe won't like that. He knows I need to eat, but... well. He knows first hand what I do to people when I take them. I can have that conversation with him or..." Another puff. "Or he doesn't need to be apprised of everything I do."

There's a voice in the back of his head that sounds like Elias praising his pragmatism, but Jon tries to mentally shake it away. It doesn't help he can feel the disappointment of people universes away bearing down on him, as well.

The suggestion merits a moment of consideration, but Chris still shakes his head.

“We are too small of a group to suffer secrets between each other. Besides, the keeping often causes more hurt than the initial action.” It was half the reason he still held a large ember of anger towards his rogue.

“I’ll talk with him, though. You and I share this decision, I don’t mind being the one to tell him. I suspect he might not like it, but he’ll understand. And if we’re choosy about our victims -like the doll maker woman- then we’ll be as inline with everyone’s needs as we can be.”

A chill scampers through him from his equally bare feet and thin shirt and he wraps his arms more around him.

“At this rate, you’ll have to come into the shower with me just to warm up.”

It's not that Chris intends to keep stabbing Jon with that particular knife of guilt, but here it is once more. Stabbing. He really needs to talk to Amelia sooner rather than later. There aren't likely to be any odd truth-telling effects like there were in Duplicity, but still. He's promised Chris more than once to be honest with him. Maybe he should-

No. No, he needs to wait for the talk with Amelia. Although... he could potentially prime Chris for it? Prove that he's making an effort. That might work.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." He tries to keep his tone a bit lighter as he flicks ash from the end of the cigarette. There's not much more. Now or never.

"There's something I- You talk to Wolfe. I need to speak with Amelia. Privately. I'll likely need to discuss something with you afterwards, but I need to check something with her first."

Chris cocks his head slightly, curiosity piqued, but he doesn't press. If it were truly so dire, there'd be more signs. Maybe something going on in Amelia's head that Jon had picked up on? That wouldn't surprise him either.

He nods and gets back to his feet with chilly effort. "Of course, whatever needs discussing. I will clean up first, though."

He leans in to press another kiss to Jon's hair, then his forehead, and makes for the door. "I trust Patience to keep you company, but that invitation to join me once you're done out here was as genuine as you'd like. Just so you know."

He offers Jon a smile, but then retreats back into the comfortable temperature of the temple to head for the showers, his dirty clothing shed along the way, regardless of the gentle conversation happening at the other end of the temple. He'll bother them later.

Edited 2025-11-13 17:43 (UTC)

It would probably be polite to shower after smoking. He doesn't actually know Amelia's thoughts on it, and the dogs and Poppet will probably have a preference for soap over ash. Jon quirks a brief smile back at Chris and lets the cleric go as he takes one of the last drags. His attention turns downward to Patience.

"I'm a bastard, you know? A lying bastard." The dog cocks an ear at him and turns her head upward. "Come to a third world and make the same mistakes." Jon puffs out smoke in his sigh and shakes his head. "I'll do it differently this time. I just-I just need to talk to her, you know? They'll fuss over her, and I know she doesn't want that."

Something moves out in the woods, a Patience is up, alert, moving to put herself between it and Jon. With his toes free (and freezing), the Archivist steps down and off onto the ground to stub his cigarette out. It feels... rude to do it on the temple, itself.

"Come on, girl." Jon snaps his fingers and heads inside with only a mildly distasteful look on his face as he grasps the creepy handle. Once inside, Jon offers Wolfe and Amelia a brief wave of his hand before heading to the wardrobe room and picking out some new undergarments and heading toward the showers. He doesn't join Chris immediately, but steps into the other stall and undresses.

"Is it warm in there, Lord Sonom?" he practically purrs through partition. Maybe he shouldn't try to rile Chris up, but he feels guilty, and maybe teasing the cleric will help make things... easier. Maybe it will make him happier? Who can say?

He’s let the water run hot over his skin as he imagines it washing the death away along with the chill.

It hadn’t been pleasant work, of course…but it had been leagues more satisfying than every machination set into motion. Handling death was easy, so long as he didn’t have to handle another’s emotions about it. Just his own.

Jon’s voice cuts through morbid thoughts and he welcomes it with a smile to himself.

“Certainly seems things are hotter while you’re around, master Sims.”

Soap. He can bust his hands with soap rather than thinking about Jon showering so close and yet so far from his touch.

“Is my impropriety with your naked person under question, my love?”

Chris is taking things in good humor. Small relief for the Archivist's nerves. "Hmm... I don't know. Everyone seems to have decided they're keeping their hands to themselves. Can you manage that if I'm stood with you? I wonder. I'd certainly be... impressed."

He keeps his voice pitched low. Loud enough to be heard over the shower, but hopefully not enough it's going to carry to Wolfe and Amelia.

He opens his mouth to point out they haven't had any sort of conversation yet, but cuts himself off when he realizes he hadn't even gotten so far as to mention they might need to have that sort of conversation.

"I do enjoy impressing you; it's a weakness of mine, I admit." The soap washes away, and he leans a little closer to the partition to keep his voice low enough not to be heard by anyone else in the temple but the man on the other side of it.

"Whatever anyone else does, I fully intend to keep my hands to myself to your comfort. You've no need nor requirement to do anything more than you ever wish to again. However attracted I am to you, your comfort is my priority. Just so we're clear." And perhaps the wall can spare them both the depth of that earnest clarification for at least a moment.

Jon's smirk fades away at Chris' words. He'd known they were escaping quota coming here. Known that the whole dom and sub nonsense would be behind them. Having the reminder sends his heart into his throat as a sudden wave of relief hits. He doesn't have to have sex or watch sex or be threatened with sex constantly anymore. It's a choice. It's an actual choice again. Not the sort of no-win devil's bargain of Duplicity. No panic that he might get sent to a SLUT Center or aphros twisting him around and making him want when he might not have.

It's with some effort that Jon swallows down that swell of emotion, grateful for the partition. Chris doesn't need to know how that affects him. "I know. I- There was never any doubt." Another breath. "I know you have interests I don't, but I do enjoy indulging you now and again, and I'll never say no to your touch.

"Unless I'm making you work for it, of course." There. There, they're back on track and he doesn't have to think about how close he'd come to tears for a simple reassurance.

Edited 2025-11-14 21:16 (UTC)

The water is a gentle thrum, the partition muffles some of the emotion in Jon's voice...but not enough when he's got a cleric keyed into every rise and fall of his voice and every pause or stutter of his breath. The floor of the shower is treated to Chris's affectionate smile, and he presses a hand to the partition as if he might be able to phase through it and put his palm against his partner's face.

"Of course. I do enjoy that game...As I enjoy and appreciate your indulgences. I might also be inclined to touch with the intent of teasing now and again...but never too far without your explicit permission. I think I want that between us for a little while: the space to give permission because we can."

Besides, it would probably help them find a new normal for themselves. Their physical and intimate relationship had been built around so few chances to make a conscious choice to be intimate. They could use the resetting of base between them. "And if you get some soap in your eyes and they seem a little red-rimmed after this from all of that, I'll entirely understand." He pauses briefly. "Are you going to stay all the way over there?"

The emotion grips at his throat again, and Jon squeezes his eyes shut tightly. It's only made worse when Chris makes it clear he knows what this is doing to Jon. Embarrassment mixes with everything else, and there's a part of him that wants to leap into the other stall and kiss away Chris' clever words until he can't think to know him like that. And why shouldn't he? There's nothing stopping him, nothing compelling him. It might be something Chris wants, but that's all right, too. Especially if he ends up being left blue-balled for his kind teasing.

Jon moves. He's not particularly stealthy about it as he shifts from his own stall and into Chris'. His modesty is a little less delicate here where they're meant to be naked, and the Archivist walks up to cleric, grabs his hair and pulls him down into a hard kiss. His tongue invades Chris' mouth, seeking to silence him. No more talk of soap in eyes. If there's a rim of red in his eyes... no one needs to ever comment on that again.

He can hear the change and can tell Jon's getting closer even before he arrives in the stall with Chris, but the grab of his hair is unexpected enough to earn a surprised and pleased sound as their lips crash together. It's a pleasant thing to be caught in Jon's current, even if he can practically taste the good-natured frustration. All the better, really.

For a long moment, he's content to be caught up in the silencing kiss and the dance of tongues it brings. His nature being what it is, however, means he eventually moves his hands from where they'd naturally fallen to Jon's shoulders and laces them behind his boyfriend's neck and into his wet hair. It's a small shift, but enough of one to use his height to regain his control. Kisses turn shallow and then shift to Jon's jaw and neck, and shoulder before jumping back to his lips. Better to bite and mark them as Chris indulges his possessive flair.

Whenever they do both find air more pressing than the feeling of each other's lips, Chris presses a far sweeter kiss to his Archivist's lips, chin, and cheeks.

"It's a selfish thing, but I will revel in the fact you are mine. Now and always, without question. And I am yours. We no longer need fear being separated. I will always come back to you."

Jon bites his own lips to stifle any sound as Chris kisses and bites his way across the Archivist's body. Small favors those marks aren't likely to last for a while yet with his regeneration. But when that goes away... The idea of walking out of the shower with a hickey to confront Wolfe and Amelia leaves him flustered in a way he thinks might be better served to schoolboys with their crush. Thankfully, Moonsea garb seems to tend toward covering up with how cold it is. He should be able to hide any marks easily enough.

But what if he we wearing a collar?

No. Absolutely not. Not entertaining that thought in the slightest. This isn't the sort of place for that, and he's not interested in it. No.

"Always," Jon agrees once he has hold of his head. "And whatever I need to do to pledge my soul to your Raven Queen. To make sure that holds true in the afterlife, too." He assumes becoming a worshiper will suffice and that all of them will be following that route. "I'm tied to this place. I know that's what the vials were, but I could feel it when we drank them. It was almost-almost like becoming the Archivist. That sense of... completion. Wholeness I didn't know was missing."

His next kiss is softer as he leans against Chris. "I love you... and I really should wash up."

He nods to the mention of following into the afterlife. That promise from both of his boys had been a beacon of hope for a long time now, and perhaps Amelia would want to follow as well?

Though, maybe they’d all rethink that when they saw the Shadowfell tomorrow…

Could he blame them? It was a dreary place to be bound to for what one could assume would be eternity. Saying it and seeing it were different. He’d abide by their decision, regardless.

Besides, the mention of feeling the connection is interesting to hear, he’d never considered what it might feel like to have your soul thread severed or then reattached. It puts wondering into his thoughts even as he bends to meet the kiss.

“Of course. I’ll grant you peace to finish.” Besides, that soreness he’d been expecting was starting to settle in and the scrapes on his feet were incredibly unhappy.

He starts to leave, but pauses in the shower’s doorway. “Do you think your soul was…healing? Finding wholeness again from what either the Eye or your death took?” Morbid, probably, but he’s horribly curious now.

Jon's halfway to grabbing the soap when Chris raises a similar idea to one Wolfe had posited. "I don't know. Maybe?" There's a long pause before he adds, "I hope so. We'd need someone who can see souls to be sure. But if it is... I think it's more like-like lancing a wound. There was a sickness in me it's excised. Being written into the Weave is, I imagine, what's going to actually heal it, or at least patch it with something else."

Which is, in a way, very troubling. "Have you ever heard of severed souls here? Or ones that have been damaged?"

He thinks for a long moment before shrugging slightly with a shake of his head. "Not personally. I've heard of something like that happening when gods or archfiends and fey are involved, but they're rumors and stories. Perhaps will learn more in time...or maybe-" He flashes a smirk at his Archivist. "-your long line of bad luck and bad options to choose from is starting to change just a little. Remember...not everything here is good, but not everything is bad either. Balance is key."

He reaches out a hand to brush along Jon's shoulder, but then heads out to let him clean up. There were towels hung up by the showers this time, at least, and Chris runs one over his hair and chest before wrapping it around his waist.

He glances to Wolfe and Amelia again as he crosses to the room with the wardrobe and smiles to himself at how domestic they look bunched up by the counter like that. How at ease.

Good. That was the bare minimum he'd been hoping for for them. They deserved some normalcy.

It's the thought he continues to turn over in his mind, and what options they might have in Bastila now that the idea had come to him, as he dresses in simple under things and a long-sleeved shirt for the evening.

"You can darn all our socks," she jokes, sort of. It's something that will need to be done, likely fairly often, and be practical. If ever there were a reason to give Wolfe some kind of menial work to be done, fixing up their socks would be one of them. Although, as she thinks on it a few other ideas come to mind.

"You could also learn to knit or crochet to make us more socks or other cold weather items." It's only fair he learn something if she has to by cooking. "And on nights where we don't need anything or you don't feel like working on that, you can always play for us." A beat. Fuck, his lute. Of all the things she didn't think to grab before leaving Duplicity, she didn't grab his lute. She sighs at herself, looking over to Chris when the cleric approaches them.

"Do you think they'll have lutes for purchase in Ilinvur? Or can you include one in a temple in the future?" Wolfe is getting a lute one way or another, but perhaps Chris can provide a temporary one until they can find a replacement for the one she lost.

Out of everything, out of all her compliments to him earlier and his embarrassment over his physique, her skipping asking him about if he'd want to continue wasting his idle time with a lute and practically demanding one from Chris, has him flushing and putting his hands up defensively.

"I'm really not very good, even after all these years. You don't have to if you'd rather not hear it. Darling socks or learning to knit is at least useful."

He’s still swiping at his water-flattened curls when he comes over to his other partners, but he nods to Amelia’s question.

“I can make one for the temple, though a real one will sound better. We can buy one eventually. I’d like another flute at some point as well.” He’d gotten passably ok at it since picking it back up, he’d likely miss it in the calmer days ahead.

He tosses the towel haphazardly towards the laundry area and shrugs at Wolfe. “You’re multi-talented, you can learn all of that. If you’ve got dinner in hand, I’m gonna start cleaning the real clothes we’ve got so we can pick up and move after the Shadowfell. If…if we all think we’re ready to start trying to mingle again. I’ve an idea for some quick coin afore Ilinivur.”

"I washed my and Wolfe's clothes earlier, though our clothes from yesterday could use another go." She got a lot of blood on her clothes during the fight getting out of Duplicity. She smiles softly. "Thank you, Chris. I appreciate your help.

"Though... what do you mean before Ilinvur? Are there places along the road we could stop at for a day or two?" If they could simply Gate to the city, wouldn't that be faster? A larger city would certainly lend itself to more coin. More notoriety for Chris and the Guardians, which could cause them trouble, but that's what disguises are for.

"Doing what?" Wolfe asks, almost in tandem with Amelia's question. Better talking about this than the multiple talents he's not entirely sure he posesses the attention span to nurture.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms casually over his middle.

“It’s along the way were we to walk, but we can Gate there no different. Half a day’s decent travel from Ilinivur is a vacationing town for her rich and elite. Bastila.” He nods to Wolfe. “I might have mentioned the place before: where I debuted and retired my stint as ‘The Carmine Corvid.’ Bastila’s got a fighting ring that brings in lots of crowds and money, there’s places for gambling as well and plenty of coin people don’t know what else to do with it but overpay for others doing inconvenient things for them. Anything from paperwork to menacing rivals, I’d expect. Plus, I don’t care if you cut a few purse strings there.”

cw: mention of child death

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cw: reference to non-con/dub-con

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