(no subject)

[klaus_von_wolfstadt]

There's a reason it's called being lovesick.

[Low, ground out laughter etches itself out into the air. Hollow. Bitter. There's no lit or depth to the timbre, as if there isn't an ounce of real amusement behind any of it.]

The whole thing's an illness, y' know? Something people either get an immunity to.

...Or curl up and fucking die over it.

Comments

[klaus_von_wolfstadt]

[A rusty flask is raised in mock salute over this rather adept deduction before he takes a quick swig- grimacing in the aftermath.]

All too true.

[Wipes the back of his mouth thoughtfully.]

Heh. Or maybe the thing itself is madness. 'S insane to give up and hand over so much. To think it's not going to go up in flames and take you down with it.

[hydrokhoos]

Oh, honey, that's why it's so fucking scary. Especially when the person you love is an asshole.

[klaus_von_wolfstadt]

[One thorough looking-over seems to partly explain to him the reasoning behind that disarming pet-name. Not that the term doesn't leave him with an unsettling itch of discomfort. It does. Enough that the soldier rolls both shoulders; simultaneously making for nonchalant as he shucks off the sense of mock intimacy that term blankets him with.]

Maybe the object of your affection thinks the same of you. After all, every man assumes his own innocence and the others fault- first and foremost. It's survival.

Not to say it's true. But.

[Klaus neatly puts the flask away within an inner pocket of his coat. Busy work. Motion. Keeping hands busy.]

There ain't an umpire in these matters. So who the hell is ever impartial or objective enough to know which person gets the rightful blame when it all goes to hell?

[hydrokhoos]

[ a smile curves over his lips, surprisingly bitter on such a youthful, attractive face. ]

I've had close to four-thousand years to ask myself all these questions, go over it all again and again and again. I've wanted it, I've wanted it to be over, I've wanted to die, to live, I've hated him and I've loved him and most of the time, I can't tell the difference.

[ he pulls out a pack of cigarettes--new, because they never last long enough to get battered--sliding one between his lips with elegant, manicured hands. he's beautiful; zeus insists on it, on ganymede taking care of himself.

he offers the pack out as he lights up. ]

.. I don't suggest living as long as I have.

[klaus_von_wolfstadt]

[Whether or not Klaus believes the youth is irrelvent. He's heard plenty of tall tales or spectacular plots amongst pilots and soldiers alike; so there's not more than the blinking of an eye given to this particular fable. Who knows. Could be true in a place like this.]

Don't need that long to run through all those options:
Wanting to stay. Leave. End it all or make it last till your dying breath.

[Klaus plucks up one of the cigarettes, lights it without another word then takes a long drag on the thing, like it's his last.]

Hate and love. Ha.

Heard once that to really hate someone you gotta truly love 'em first.
Sounds about right.