but you are far too beautiful to love me.

[daedalos]

Comments

[manlet]

[If Edmond hadn't initiated, Hans would've. He cups his lover's face as he welcomes the kiss. The warmth in his chest flutters, and when there's a chance for him to speak up--]

It's peculiar for an Adonis to chase such a wretched creature. And so brazenly, at that. [He grins.] What if someone were to see you claiming your prey?

[ressusciter]

Then they can keep their opinions to themselves, for my heart rests where it does, and I would challenge any to speak ill of him who I am so fond of. For he is not my prey, but my equal, whom I lay myself bare to that he might know my sincerity and choose how to respond. Adonis you might name me, but I have no wish for the affections of the divine - only a wish for yours.

[sometimes he knows he's laying it on thick, but it's who they are. theatrics are yet another language they speak, vaulting ideas back and forth to see how far they'd go.]

[manlet]

[Dramatics suit Hans perfectly, who's always dreamed of the stage. And what better stage to perform than with Edmond? He gazes into those golden eyes while his own crinkle with happiness.]

Ah, but there's no reason for you to pine for my affections when you've already commanded it. This heart of mine is fully yours, Edmond. Nothing -- not even God or time -- can change that.

[ressusciter]

As you have mine. So I shall faithfully wait for you until you return to me, and write often to fill the space between.

[there's nothing but fond warmth in his expression, and he leans up to kiss Hans on the forehead. alone, he can be freely indulgent in his physical affection, close and content for it. the time will pass swiftly enough, if he makes his plans come to fruition - ways for them to be free of their families and live in no less comfort for it.]

[manlet]

[This is what love should be: promises beneath the stars, without any family politics or scheming. Hans doesn't know how he'll survive the next few months without Edmond. Even if he writes, it won't be the same. He closes his eyes.] Will you be traveling while I'm away?

[ressusciter]

No. I'll remain in Copenhagen - anything I need to do can be conducted through letters, or is already in motion. Unless you write and beg me to visit you at school, I will stand still for a while. [it'll be easier for letters, and it'll mean that he knows where Edmond is. it's not a great hardship for him to endure, and it means that when he returns, he knows that he'll be ready for him.]

[manlet]

Still, it's a great sacrifice, especially from a man of the sea. [He knows how much Edmond enjoys traveling.]

[ressusciter]

Not one that will break me.

[he laughs, and glances up to the sky.]

None of this will leave if I spend a while on the shore.

[manlet]

[He drops his hands, so he can rest them on Edmond's arms.] What did I do to deserve a man like you? Sometimes, I wish-- [He catches himself. Hesitates, before rushing his words:] --I wish I was a woman instead.

[ressusciter]

[his eyes widen in surprise as he looks back to Hans, before they soften. that...speaks to his heart in some ways, and the expression in his eyes is gentler.] If you were a woman, I wouldn't be allowed to bring you onboard my boat, much less at night. [but then they could court openly, and he could ask the Collins what they wished for in terms of marriage, and...] ...It would all happen over again, if you weren't in this shape. Man or woman, it is you whom I adore.

[manlet]

[Each moment of affection feels like a scrap to Hans' starving appetite. The times their hands have brushed over each other; the looks they shared; the way Hans has to be oh-so-careful to keep the joy from his voice when he talks about his "dear friend." He wants to hold Edmond's hand; wants to kiss his cheek before his family; wants to speak freely of his adoration without hesitation. And-- to hear Edmond affirm those feelings makes his heart flutter.] Bah, you'll have no trouble convincing the world you're a paramour. You speak with such earnestness... it's enough to make a cynic like me dissolve into a helpless romantic. [Hans moves away so he can pick up his journal and lantern. Turns to Edmond, the smile on his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.] It's cold out here. I think I've had my fill of stars for tonight.

[ressusciter]

[the wind is picking up a little bit, it's true, and it isn't summer, when it'd be bearable. but the look on Edmond's face, while still a smile, looks slightly more somber.]

It's warmer where I am, if you come closer.

[he's not quite ready to bring them back to shore, is what he means. if Hans is done being out here, it doesn't mean they have to go, but...]

[manlet]

[He hears what Edmond doesn't say, and extends his hand.] I'm cold, is all. I couldn't leave you behind so soon.

[ressusciter]

[taking his hand, he'll follow behind then into the warmth of below deck, where the lights are lower save in individual rooms. the night cradles the ship, makes it a cocoon away from the rest of the world, and Edmond pauses at the door to his own quarters.]

Are you tired?

[he's not. he doesn't have to be, if Hans would prefer to sit up and talk instead.]

[manlet]

[Hans runs his free hand through his hair and sighs.] Even if I was, I don't think I could sleep. [Why would he want to, when the morning promised nothing but a bitter parting? His eyes flicker to Edmond's face, then the door, but the question he wants to ask is lodged in his throat. Tries to cover up his moment of weakness by grumbling:] I'm still too cold.

[ressusciter]

[he sees where his eyes go, and pauses. it's one thing to declare his love in the open air, to be theatrical and let that carry him. but it is another when their hands are linked - his hands feel almost too rough to be holding Hans's, scholar that he is - and their hearts are close like this. sometimes it stuns him how intensely he feels.] It's warmer in my room. I can't have you getting a cold on my account. [so he pushes open the door and invites him in, setting the lamp down on his desk to illuminate it. it's a small space, as most are aboard this craft, but it is Edmond's through and through, from the books tucked away to the neatly made bed to the cupboards that hold more of him than the room he has in his relatives' house. a space carved out for him to rest his body, while his spirit soars in the breeze and the waves visible out of the window. and true to his word, because it's small, it's insulated from the outside winds. in one of those cupboards is a spare blanket, Edmond knows, and he's looking for it.]

[manlet]

[An author's greatest asset is his words. But what's most precious to said author is a reader who can understand what's omitted. Hans does everything in his power to keep his heart shut, hides it all beneath barbs of sarcasm and bitterness. Edmond, though, somehow always slips his way through. He's truly grateful for that. So, hand in hand, Hans walks in with him. He eases himself onto Edmond's bed, fingers laced together as he watches his companion move about.] ... do you have any drinks? [hans you fucking alcoholic]

[ressusciter]

[his fingers pause on the blanket, looking over his shoulder, and then he withdraws.] Who do you take me for? [of course he does. a different cupboard yields what he's after - a mostly full bottle of whiskey plucked from a secure hiding space, and he goes to sit down next to Hans.] I don't have any glasses, though. You'll have to settle for the bottle.

[manlet]

[Hans' face lights up, his hand already half-risen to claim the bottle.] Ha! As if that's ever stopped me before! [If you give him the whiskey, he'll chug it......]

[ressusciter]

[he might, so Edmond will preempt him, and open it to take a sip of the alcohol for himself before he passes it over and sits down next to him. it's something to savor, not to chug - it's not like kerosene in the throat, after all.] I see there's no need to worry over your health.

[manlet]

[The whiskey burns going down, but that's exactly what Hans wants. He lets out a sigh of relish once he lowers the bottle, content.]

Who says I'm healthy? [He rattles the whiskey, sloshes it around good.] I'm sick in heart and spirit. This is my medicine.

[ressusciter]

Sick in heart? You'll make me the worried one with words like that.

[taking the bottle back, his lips touch where Hans's did as he sips, far more moderate than his companion.]

[manlet]

[Edmond's self-control has always been better than Hans'. He patiently waits for the bottle to be passed back to him.] My heart was sick from the day I was born. A man who bellyaches over the smallest things is either someone spoiled or someone with a profoundly ill soul. [He was the bird, discontent in his gilded cage. Resigned to singing for audiences who only wanted sweet melodies.] No one understood me. Not until you came along.

[ressusciter]

[giving the bottle back, he leans back on his hands.] Your eyes are open to more than the average man. Thus you see what needs to be changed, and speak of it. [he understands, and finds his eyes drawn to Hans all over again, like it was the day he gave voice to his feelings. his hands, his lips, his eyes - he's not past the part of his life where these things will continue to fascinate him.]

[manlet]

[He's about to make a smart remark about looking and seeing, with an allusion to Tiresias or some other blind prophet, when he catches how Edmond looks at him. He lowers the bottle, holds it by its neck so it can dangle between his legs. His hands are pale and smooth - a sign of aristocracy Hans takes care to maintain. For all he complains about the rich, he tries much too hard to fit in.] ... we're cut from the same cloth. [He meets Edmond's eyes.] So if there's something you'd like to change, say it.