sinbound. [Akira & Earinor] [ENG]

"Lucky? I mean, yes, but ... forget it, I don't think it would be good to have a conversation about something like this", Ronan chuckled and brushed the rest off. Cameron should be happy to be alive and as long as his father loved all of his eleven children, why even get into an argument about stupid traditions? While there were none in Alster, he was sure there were more than enough in Thria, for more than just a few people - getting into an argument over something like that was stupid. "You could, if your father lets you - and I mean, as long as the wolves don't kill you on the spot for intruding into their territory, why not at least try?" Not that Darragh would like that idea if Ronan would be onboard with it, but he wasn't - if Caelan wanted to go, he could, it wasn't like he was going to nail him down and never let him go anywhere again or forbid him from diverting his attention to his friends. This was how it was, how it should be and Ronan - for one - wasn't going to mind that. "He could have our fathers as his father and I doubt Stenz would be the same country that it is now, but I also doubt Cameron would have ten siblings." One person could change a whole lot, couldn't they?

"Again, you underestimate me", Ronan laughed. Yes, some things tended to happen on accident, but others were merely a wash of one too many things and resulted in the blondes doom, his downfall in one way or the other - but none of them had killed him, not yet, not soon enough. One time, he'd thrown himself off a hill, had hoped he'd be pierced by whatever stones or icicles lay beneath his line of sight and the only thing that had happened was, that he'd given himself a concussion, ruined one of his favorite clothes and had to cut off that pesky hair of his when it had clogged up with blood that was a pain to wash out. "He'd probably beg me to leave the house for once as long as he doesn't know who's going to hunt with me, so why not? As for that - my father doesn't care, we could as easily just do nothing." Darragh didn't want trophies, he wanted results, nothing more - it was that simple. "No, no - you aren't, don't worry", he'd put aside what they'd have to feed the ravens out back, or some other hungry animal frequenting the forest. Then, he severed the limbs from the rest of the body. "I could have as easily just eating vegetable broth, though. But dismantling an animal isn't hard, you know?" Well, it wasn't easy either. "Hmmm, let me think. I mean, I just have to reheat the broth and probably cook the meat a bit before I toss it in there, but ... I don't think there's anything you could do right now."

"You wouldn't have to ask him to go there outright, I'm sure he wouldn't be opposed to you spending a few months with Caelan, you know? After all, you told me he wouldn't mind if I spent the entire winter at your place, so why wouldn't that work for you?", Ronan asked, seemingly confused. Allard of Fhaergus was nobody he knew good things about - both his boyfriend and his father seemed to hate him - and there wasn't anything to make that better, let alone was there a single good hair left on that man, at least it seemed like that. "Well, you're right! Stenz wouldn't be what it is without its nobles." Ronan had no idea what Stenz truly was like, but he wasn't keen on finding out all that soon - he was friends with Caelan and not Cameron and he wasn't willing to come out of his shell all that much just yet. "Don't be sorry", he mused as he started to remove the meat from the bones and cutting it up - he probably had enough oil and a pan somewhere, so he just had to move the kettle aside and try cooking without a proper stove, didn't he? It wouldn't kill him, though. "Some alone time with you never hurt, you know? So, yes, I approve of that." After all, it didn't matter how he spend his days outside, as long as he actually got along with someone, anyone, didn't it?

"That's because they're all lazy and up their own asses. I don't know much about our fellow to-be dukes, but most of them seem like they'll explode from their pride and head-assery alone." Though, Henry wasn't exactly a to-be duke and not full of himself either, Ronan would probably defend that man to his last breath, even if that mean to get into fights, yet, he couldn't imagine anyone would be as stupid as to insult their future king at all. "Makes me wonder how long that book actually is or if you're just taking your time", the noble laughed and immediately felt bad about the loss of warmth but then went back to cooking, hands still bloodied, yet he was trying to make the best out of it and started with what he'd planned anyway - the difference was, that he decided to just leave the meat in the pan until it was done and then tossed it inside the heated broth, stirring it and mixing it in before he grabbed some dishes to put those on. They probably should wash those bowls from yesterday - unless Caelan already had - but for now, he had enough of those here to actually just dirty two different ones. As much as he wanted to eat at the table, he instead brought the bowls back to the bedroom, alongside two spoons and put one of them on Caelans nightstand and the other on his before he sat down onto the bed. He'd spend maybe thirty minutes cooking and prepping the rest, but ... oh. "I should wash my hands before I get that on the sheets, I'll be right back", he mumbled, got up - and touched the sheets in the process - and immediately cursed. "Oh for fucks sake." It wasn't much, but now there was rabbit blood on the fresh sheets, at least some smudges of the residue on his hands anyway.

"You'd actually get along with Darragh, if it weren't for the fact that you're from Fhaergus. My old man usually is almost hellbent on getting me outside and wanting me to do things that he did in his youth - whatever that was. He seems adventurous enough, you know? Maybe you can talk about that with him because I doubt he'd ever lock me up - unlike yours. But I'm sure your father won't disown you for having fun, that'd be silly", but who knew. A duke sometimes had a really stupid mindset, especially about his heirs and their behavior and sometimes, that showed, more than once too - and Ronan knew as much. His father wasn't stupid, nor was he himself, but they both were standing on different grounds. Darragh was the duke of Alster, the one that could say and do what he wanted and Ronan was nothing more than his good for nothing son that would do good to go out every once in a while and stop wasting his time, all the way up in his own headspace. Or out here, in a hut, because he didn't want to attend any of those stupid events that he should at least join to keep in touch with those around him, but Ronan rarely felt like it to begin with.

"Neither do I, especially since Henry doesn't exactly count as a future duke, right?", he chuckled. No, while they both would have a country of their own to rule, Henry would ascend to the throne one day and not only have his hands full with Myriad, but also all the other nations under his flag - and he'd be the one they'd all have to listen to, as simple as that. Ronan wouldn't have any problem with bowing to him, his will or his desires, whatever those would turn out to be, but he knew that someone like Henry drew the ire of many, especially since he wasn't like one would imagine a crown prince. "Only almost?", he teased, but after that, he was pretty much the one getting teased - for being a forgetful idiot, despite the evidence being right in front of him, glued to his hands and all over the things he'd touched. "Sorry! I didn't mean to!", he immediately, frantically apologized as his eyes had widened and he kind of stared at what he did, almost as if it had spooked him. "I mean, I could change the sheets and wash them with the ones from yesterday? I'd have to wash my hands for that first, though ... HEY!" And as Caelan had smeared the blood on his face, Ronan brought his hand up to Caelans cheek and rubbed it against it for a second. "Nice."

"I don't think there's much to curse, you are pretty handsome", the noble said. If his hands hadn't been sticky with blood just a few moments ago, he would have brushed some of those pesky strands in Caelans face aside, but for now he didn't dare - lest he'd have to wash that hair of his to get rid of any residue blood. But then again, Caelan was handsome, beautiful even - he looked dashing and a white armor would actually suit him, though, those were unneccessary thoughts. An armor was uncomfortable, a pain to get into and also horrible for physical contact, but at least it protect oneself, didn't it? Fair skin, blue eyes, blonde hair - a dashing smile and so much more than Ronan could ever have with that raven hair of his and those auburn eyes. Weren't it for the color of his iris, nobody would even recognize him as a noble of Alster, but ... he wouldn't mind. The pitch-black hair was uncommon for his fellow sheep and prove of his heritage, but everyone ignored it - even Darragh did - and they chalked it up to something else. And while Cameron was a fellow noble with black hair of his own, who even questioned someones heritage if they came from Stenz? "You don't need one, it would only get in my way."

"Don't worry. You look embarrassed, though - but that's fine", he chuckled and once he'd finished cleaning Caelans face, he put the wet towel back into the water, sumberged it fully and then wrung it out - he'd actually have to get some soap and warmer water for this, didn't he? How frustrarting - but ... "It's a good book? I mean, I have some more lying around but I doubt you can just discern them based on their covers." After all, he hid those forbidden texts - as one might call them - in different books altogether, which was why it took some time to figure everything out by himself sometimes. "Hey now! At least you're still in one piece, so be happy the rabbit died for our sins", what did he even say? Why did he say it like that? "I mean, not sins, but rather for ... you get what I mean! I'm just so damn hungry!" Ronan was about to lose his composure sooner or later if this went on, didn't he? God, why was all of this so confusing anyway? And why was he still so stuck up about all of this? Just for a moment, that damn kiss lingered on his lips and left behind a warm, tingling feeling - but Caelan parted as soon as he'd arrived and said he'd get the sheets. "You're pretty eager to clean for someone who said he dislikes cleaning! But you really don't have to, at least let me change the bed sheets myself."

"Why, yes. Your beauty is enough to kill me one of these days, probably", he joked, but on the other hand - was it really a joke if he meant it and was just being honest? They both had their own issues, their own problems and they both were opposites of one another, yet worked in tandem - almost as if there was nothing they couldn't conquer once they had set their mind to it, yet they had only known each other for a few days, nothing more. "You do have one? Show it to me when you've got time to, I'd like to see how much it can actually get in my way when putting my hands on you." Ronan didn't have one and it almost felt as if he was the weird one for that - but he wasn't, right? After all, he was trying his best and if his best was somewhere else - not in the fighting department - then he wouldn't have garments made for him that he'd never wear, that was about as wasteful as any other noble would be and he really, really didn't want to be like them. "I don't even dream of having one, I just think it would collect dust and I'd either grow out of it or never wear it to begin with. There's no need for me to have one." Or was there?

"I mean, I was - it was pretty stupid. I'd picked it up because my father told me to leave those books alone and, well, I didn't want him to dictate what I do. After I got to the more explicit parts, I felt like some girl being kissed for the first time", he chuckled. His head had been red, he himself confused about what was going on and all in all, he made quick work of the book, hid it beneath his pillow and concentrated on something else that evening, only to go back to it in the dead of the night and read some more pages, the embarrassment rising back up in no time. "You can read anything you'd like, I could blindly choose one and tell you to take it home." Nobody would suspect a thing, except maybe, that their future duke read out of his own volition and wasn't forced to - which would raise some suspicion, but not much, right? "But I don't want it to be a sin, there's nothing wrong about that, you know? At least not for me ... it's just. I don't get why it's supposed to be a sin, you know?", he said, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "Argh, you're right. But I call dibs on changing the bedsheets, so don't you dare!" And as Ronan used the water to soak their dirty bedsheets and went over the dirty spots with soap, he already knew that all of his words were in vain - Caelan would probably do what he wanted.

"Why should I stop?", Ronan asked, amused. "Are you getting flustered because I'm saying the truth?", he asked with an almost devilish grin spreading on that face of his before it disappeared again. As cheesy as it may have been to say something like that, he meant it - he really did. They belonged to one another and Ronan was going to bask in it as long as he could, as long as they were somewhere where no one could ask stupid questions or even want to punish them for what they did - they belonged to one another and nothing was going to change that anytime soon, after all, why would they want that? "You don't have to wear it if it's too much of a hassle, but I'd like to at least see it, just for the mental image of you in it. I don't know, you're hot without it, but I think you, with an armor on the battlefield would look nice too", and yet again, Ronan laughed, just a bit - not, because he thought an impending war would be fun, but the thought alone was. The thought of him Caelan in his armor, hating every second of it - and the thought of the blonde, covered in his own sweat and someone elses blood, that was kind of hot, wasn't it? "We should be glad we're not at war with anyone."

The south would squash them like incessant bugs, the wolves would mince them to meat and one didn't even dare to imagine what awaited them beyond the vast, blue sea of their land. Was there something, somewhere out there or was it all just an imagination that Ronan had to deal with from time to time. "It felt better. Soft and warm - I wouldn't mind some more, you know ...", he threw in, going over the bedsheets again, washing them over and over until he was sure that all of the soap residue was out, as well as the dirt they'd covered them in. For once, those two would still be usable once they'd dry - and for that, Ronan just hung them up in the bathroom, from the thin line of thread he could span from one side to the other to create a small but durable clothes line for their laundry. "Hm, I could recommend you some, too!" Then, once that was done, his attention shifted and he finally left the bathroom of horrors that now was used to dry their laundry. "I kind of do, but ... don't worry about it. We'll do it when we've both grown more comfortable with it and when there's less to do. No need to throw yourself into something like that headfirst, take your time." Ronan brushed past the blonde and back into the bedroom, just to open the cabinet and fumble with some of the bedsheets - they were all stained, weren't they? Now there was a pile of them on the floor and some in his hands. He'd throw those out now, rip them up and use them to fuel their fireplaces. "Who knows, who cares. Gods are just a sorry excuse for those who can't come up with a valid argument. I don't care for he gods and their supposed words, because if I did, I shouldn't be alive", the noble grumbled. "We don't have any clean sheets."

"I can't give you too much credit, that's a lie!", he said, quite harshly actually. Sometimes compliments drove him up a wall - he wasn't used to them, instead he knew that his father was quick to talk him down, to discourage him from doing anything that didn't involve his work and he just had accepted it for the past few years, acting like the good son he was expected to be and never questioning much. Ronan of Alster was dutybound, even if he didn't want to, and that would never change - not once. What remained wasn't much more than an abyss of mixed feelings for all sorts of things. "I'm not expecting to be dragged around, so don't worry. I'd love to visit you anyway." It would be weird to actually spend time in an official estate of Fhaergus' nobility and unable to do whatever they wanted, at least on a whim, wouldn't it? "Who said you'd have to lean down? I can tiptoe if I have to! Or wear some higher boots", Ronan stuck his tongue out at Caelan, much like a tiny child, offended by the fact that someone had talked about its height - but was he? "Unfortunately, I don't have spares lying around. My father doesn't have anything that fits me and I don't personally need it, I never will."

Wasn't that conclusion a bit too quick? Or did he just intend to never wear armor in a fight, to guard his body as best as he could? No, it wasn't about that - if he was meant to die, he would, just as it was intended for someone like him. "Dirty? What's dirty about a kiss?", he asked, somewhat puzzled - this wasn't a joke, right? Then what was it? In the end, Ronan was the one that was confused by something he'd said himself and even touched his own mouth - die he say something stupid? "You swear you will? Are you sure? Do I have to write you letters to remind you?" Figuring out how to send the heir of Fhaergus a letter wasn't hard, but getting that letter past his father without him finding out would be, unfortunately. "Forget it and ... you can't disappoint me. I don't even have expectations or experiences in that regard, so ... this might as well be my first impression. But I don't want to ruin another bedsheet, so lets save that for the next time, alright?" Ronan wasn't backing out because he got cold feed and he surely wasn't slightly blushing right now, but ... all of this was kind of embarrassing and hard to figure out, wasn't it? Then, he sighed - Caelan had seen and yet didn't seem to take note of it, or did he? Whatever - the cat was out of the bag. "Waiting is alright", he mumbled, then grabbed one of the sheet and started looking for a hole or something else before he started tearing - the ripping sound of fabric still was odd. Soon enough, as Caelan moved, he tossed it back to the others. "Sounds like a plan. What do you even want to do after we finish eating and while we wait for the sheets to dry?"

"Is it now? That precious kitten of yours can still reach your neck, or scratch out your eyes, you know", the noble giggled. He wasn't as tall as most of the others his age, but he still had some faith that he'd grow eventually - after all, his actual father wasn't tiny either and his mother was quite the tall woman, so ... that had to mean something, right? He'd still grow, wouldn't he? Usually, he'd be offended by jabs at his height, but right now, there was only some sort of dread that he'd stay the way he was right now and Caelan would grow even taller - worries like that were stupid, but they were still present and something Ronan disliked about himself. Right now, he was overthinking and what if he stayed the way he was? It was fine like that. Maybe. "The sword you saw once when you took it out of its hilt? I mean, I didn't know you could read someone that fast - but if I had to guess, you're like my father. Brute strength over strategy." Still, it was alright - they all had their own fighting styles, their own values and he wasn't going to be mean to Caelan over something just because it reminded him of his father and said fathers doings. "It makes me feel nice, all bubbly inside actually - does that make more sense?", he asked, scratching the back of his head once more before sitting down across from the blonde. Were those the words he'd looked for, or was that just his imagination? In the end, Ronan couldn't actually tell, he just knew he wanted to eat his broth. "You won't forget? Good, I'll send you a letter anyway! Whatever you want one or not!" Having someone like Caelan by his side, someone he could confide in without being scared, wasn't that what he wanted? And yet he couldn't open that damned mouth of his and tell the whole story. "You fucked my throat yesterday and might I remind you my jaw hurts and my throat is sore? I would like a sex break, actually", Ronan laughed at his own comment - it sounded incredibly silly. "Let's concern ourselves with that later! And I'm glad you like my cooking! As for what we could do, I could actually force you to play chess with me!" Oh, this was going to be a fun one.

Eventually, all of this came to an end - their time together wasn't meant for eternity and once some of the snow had went and a week or two had gone by, they had to part ways, lest their parents would actually start to worry about them. Caelan almost looked like he didn't want to leave and Ronan didn't want to, either, but as soon as the blonde was leaving, he agreed to at least go with him until he'd reach the border to Fhaergus and then, as they had spend their last minutes together, he'd gone home. As expected, a scolding had been due by Darragh himself and he'd taken it, had accepted it - and oddly enough, he'd been praised in the same sentence. It was almost bewildering to be praised for his good, yet short work with his fathers business partners and fellow noble and Ronan took some pride in it - although the rest of his time at home was dull. While Caelan had that book of his to read, he actually had agreed to spend some time training with that useless sword of his - he did want to beat the blonde in the upcoming tournament, especially since Alster was going to host it, weren't they? After all, he did have to write him a letter to and ask about that book he was reading. It was time to get out of his shell and yet he spend most of his evenings pacing around his room, sneaked back into the courtyard in the middle of the night and sparred with thing air - or he did it in his room. All of this was nothing more than nervousness and so much more was ... what, exactly? The last time he'd slept well was when he was with Caelan - the blankets kept him warm, but not asleep and waking up was getting harder too - it was goddamn awful. In the end, his life felt dull again and not exactly worth living, but the usual remarks made by his father weren't there, for some reason he couldn't figure out. Still, he found himself in the exact same situation like always, two days before the tournament was supposed to be happening - sitting on his bed, knife in his hand and a piece of fabric in his mouth to muffle any noises he could make, before he the knife down upon the first and then the second wrist - if it was going to work out this time, he'd probably have broken a promise he'd made to Caelan. In the end, he still fucked this simple task up and after bleeding all over his bedsheets and his own clothes, he woke up in cold sweat with a hurting head and an unpleasant, burning feeling in his wrists - it hadn't been deep enough. If he were to try again, maybe it would work but ... he didn't dare. Instead, Ronan got back to doing the usual, to changing the sheets himself and letting those dirtied clothes of his disappear. And after that, he bandaged those fresh wounds and went back to bed.

Had he done anything remarkable the past two days? Not really, but now he was standing there, wearing some stupid, fancy clothes and gloves to cover up every single evidence there could have been - arguably, it still hurt like shit, but he couldn't tell his father he was going to pass up the opportunity to beat everyone to the pulp in the comfort of his own home, not when Darragh hadn't seemed this happy in what felt like forever - it was almost scary. Formalities were quick and mainly done by his mother, which meant more freedom for him - and more time to look for a certain blonde that he'd been longing for. Although, he probably looked horrible - tired to no end, but at least he wasn't exactly that; and there was still time until the main event would start - why else would good old Darragh invite so many nobles? Certainly not to hold just a flimsy tournament. So, where was Caelan? He had to be somewhere among all of these people, didn't he?

Where was Caelan? He couldn't figure that out, no matter how hard he tried - it almost seemed impossible to even get a glance at the blonde amidst all of these people, pouring in from all sides and by now, Ronan felt completely and utterly helpless. Maybe he should just go back to his parents or even retreat to his room and wait for the sun to settle and eventually crawl back out of the woodwork in hopes of finding anyone of Caelans friends chatting with him at a solemn spot in their garden - but there was no trace of the blonde, nor his friends and yet his father had probably invited anyone he could, whyever that was. He sighed, almost gave up, only to feel quite the confusing touch on his skin and hear a voice he hadn't heard in a while - Caelan was here after all, but he did do a better job at finding him than Ronan had done. "There you are!", he said, all the tension in his body slowly leaving and yet, why was he so stiff and so confused about what it actually was that he wanted to do? He really wanted to touch Caelan, didn't he?

"My father is here because this is his own mansion, but rest assured, I don't even think he knows where I went, let alone that he knows that I know you", he remarked, a soft smile plastered on those lips of his all of a sudden. He wanted nothing more than to reach for his boyfriends hands, or his wrist, and waltz off with him, but Ronan knew as well as anyone that he couldn't and that he'd be confined to formalities some longer, especially with those hurting hands of his, hidden beneath some gloves that he'd dug out of his closet. "I am, don't worry - but I hope you are prepared to be defeated." Ever the eager one, wasn't he? And yet, Ronan of Alster wasn't even sure if he could bear to wield a sword in his current condition - the stress had gotten to him and while it was nothing that wouldn't be easily fixed in Caelans presence, it still felt omnipresent and like it weighed down heavy on those sore shoulders of his. "Can we ... go somewhere else? Anywhere is fine, but ... I can't stand this crowd", he asked, reverting back to his pretty shy self that wanted nothing more than to bury his face in Caelans chest and never look at anyone ever again. "Please."