dear_mun | Canon: Maiden Rose

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canon: maiden rose

Canon: Maiden Rose

It always seems as though there are infinitely more choices when one is starting out, in comparison to as when things draw to a close. But when the end of everything comes- whether you struggle or resign yourself; unfortunately it is still very much 'The End'.

A person does wonder how differently things might have turned out, had the decisions been unlike those which paved this journey. Or if it was always fated or designed from the start to collapse in upon itself as it has.

Regardless.

....I'm done, aren't I?

Soldiers willingly race to the very Ends of the Earth to fight for the cause they are striving for. But once everything they sought to defend and hold dear no longer exists...

Shouldn't they be cut free?

Or are they condemned to occupy the ruins and forever chase after ghosts?

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No matter the wound- nothing could coerce me to willingly fall so low.

[Exhales. Despite the words themselves, their tone holds very little bite.]

You should know better, Klaus.

I know to load a gun, take aim and kill when you give word. I know enough.

[ His cynicism softens. ]

I know as much as you'll let me rip from you. That's what I know.

Enough for what, exactly?

[To survive? To be an effective tool? To bind the two together in a twisted semblance of dependent loathing? Certainly not 'enough' to understand. Otherwise- the knowledge wouldn't need to be stolen in the way it always is.]

Enough to bite your fingers and grovel at your feet.

[ Good dog. ]

[Does his best to tolerate and evade the particular phrasing here.]

Yet neither of those seem very useful for my goals.

['Good' isn't the word Taki would use. But the latter title doesn't suit his opinion of Klaus either.]

I require you to obey. [A beat] ...Nothing more.

[ A glimmer of sobriety, coming to one knee. ]

I defend your ambitions, your honour, your body and your cause, until your own sword should strike me down. I've sworn as much. I stand by it.

[ With that kneel comes his own outstretched hand, as if on instinct. It's reaching. Yet neither visage nor posture change one iota; as if refusing to acknowledge that Taki is in fact searching for Klaus' own hand. It's a custom between them. One which roots itself in a place far from ceremony or duty. ]

I would never believe otherwise.

[ A deceptively casual statement, for the incredible degree of faith it implies. ]

[ He hosts the offered hand in his larger ones, lips pressing on each knuckle. This is one gesture he doesn't care to besmirch with passion. ]

Tell me what to do for you. [ Perhaps too honestly. ] I'll do it.

...

[ His command needs no great ruminating over. In fact the words hover, resting heavy and unforgivably eager on Taki's lips; unspoken. He has an answer the moment Klaus asks it of him- because it's echoed within his mind all along. From the very start of this companionship, if not before, this has been his internal mantra. Yet Taki doesn't utter a word. Not until the last vestiges of sensation ebb away from where every kiss had burned it's touch into skin. ]

Don't leave my side.

[ If one were not paying attention they might fail in catching a slight turn of that cradled hand. That or the way fingertips tenderly graze a portion of the chiseled jawline within reach. ]

[ He stills for a moment; nods imperceptibly; mulls over his words, if not for the proper reply, nor the sincere one, then at least for what will earn Taki some peace of mind. ]

Doable. Scouts haven't left word to expect a raid, or ambush. I'll watch your sleep.

[ For all Taki knows, Klaus actually misses the flash of his exposed underbelly; so to speak. As if the man had blinked in the second Taki was pressing his boundaries and letting slip a moment of vulnerability long enough for actions to say what words cannot.

So why does disappointment weigh upon his shoulders when he managed to escape any scathing remark or announcement of this show of affection; weakness? ]

Ah. [ A thoughtful pause. ]

I haven't heard from anyone in the Division for some time now.

[ The duality of meanings hangs in the air between them. But he doesn't dwell- and instead withdraws the once extended hand to hide it away. The shield of gloves work well enough; bandaging up traces of what feels like so many holes Klaus places in his defenses. ]

[ He lingers on his knee a moment longer, head hanging tiredly. His neck's sore. His shoulders - the wounded one, most of all. ]

Say...

[ His fingers knit where Taki's trousers meet his boots, tucking them in, drawing out the folds aesthetically. As if they were still in military school, readying for inspection. ]

...there. The hell do they give you clothes so big for?

[ This man is... this man, their leader is so impossibly slight. ]

[ Those strong hands are deftly brushed away as Taki lowers; moving to offer a now gloved hand and the wordless invitation to aid Klaus in standing. He should have known. The almost impossibly faint air of injury ought to have been read long before now. Klaus was typically fluid in his movements; no matter his size or how brutish the task was. To miss that was to forget who the man in front of him really was. ]

It's nothing to fuss over.

[ Perhaps Taki simply hadn't experienced a penchant for spending much time on meals recently. Even still, he wasn't overly concerned that the once-tailored uniform hung a smidgen loose these days. No one but Klaus would have even noticed as that remained one of very few things he could not directly control while putting on the air of a good appearance. ]

Can you stand- or do you not wish to?

[ There's something about those slivers of pity from this man, whom he can't fail - something that shames him. Finds his jaw clenched, sends his teeth gritting. This won't be it. Injury, disability, war use, trauma, morphine addiction - this won't be what sends Taki looking at him as if he's another man in his employ, a mere man to be protected.

Better a threat and a nuisance than that. Better hated than pitied. His arm bolts up, aiming for the lapel of Taki's coat to try to pull him forward, down. ]

Plan to sink to my level if I don't? Sir? Suppose maybe you've learned to like it there.

[Even if Taki hadn't been all the more slender but instead rested, well fed and with a mind at ease- The odds still would have been in favor of Klaus' grasp landing it's hold. The element of surprise cannot be so easily outrun, no matter how swift one might be.

It goes without saying that there's little turning back in the instant muscular arms seek to drag Taki to the ground. The sheer strength Klaus harbors remains a force unto itself, one Taki cannot free himself from. Only give into.

With a little quick thinking and luck he does manage to break the fall onto both knees and a sore palm; simultaneously avoiding gravity's inclination to drag him against the man responsible for this. However, none of this salvages his ego or the bruised and tattered state Taki's pride now lays in.]

...Tch. Are you delusional?

[Even if he felt up to inquiring on or even listening to whatever reasoning that had compelled Klaus to turn on him, both hands appear far less compassionate. If anything they revoke the wordless amnesty between the two comrades and rise, fingers wrapping around the wrist belonging to each of Klaus' hands. The touch is neither careful nor violent; simply task-oriented and determined to remove the other man's hands from his attire.]

You're the only one who enjoys this.

[ There. That fire. That's more like it. Klaus wants to laugh: Taki's contempt is comforting. He doesn't. ]

Like the fellow in the officers' mess say, commander's got the stipends, commander's got the leaves, commander's got the goods. Seems right I should enjoy whatever scraps you're feeding me.

[ Klaus' hold on the clothing persists, his intent, seemingly, to drag Taki's head down, until their foreheads are close. To force, maybe, a sort of privacy. ]

Play nice.

You don't get to tell me what to do.

[ He speaks around gritted teeth, defenses clearly roused all while finding little comfort in the way Klaus manhandles him into the sad semblance of intimacy. It feels like the comfort Taki had found in his companion was being rubbed in his face- a lesson he had to learn.

Honestly? That just drives him towards wanting to make this physical. And eye for an eye. A blow for Klaus in turn for how much this feels like a betrayal. Taki's just desserts for letting his guard down and allowing compassion to be his downfall. ]

Let. Go.

[ It's quiet, but definitely not submissive. If that's not hint enough there's a jolt of his form to punctuate the command- a decisive attempt to forcibly pull away. ]

[ A sad victory, when you can count down its seconds. He forces their foreheads pressed close, closes his eyes, softens his whole demeanor. Breathes Taki's air in, half-smiles. ]

...good evening to you.

[ Hah. Fucking romantic is what this all is. That's right. Fucking beautiful and fucking romantic. He lets go very suddenly, leaning back to sit down properly on the ground, one hand fishing through the inside of his coat for his pack, peeling out a cigarette. He nods Taki's way before lighting it. ]

You're too damned young - sir. We'll have to teach you how to smoke like the big boys and hold your liquor. They won't take you seriously, unless you get a little dirty.

[ He cannot even begin to comprehend Klaus. The moment he succumbs to the man and finds himself mellowed, even comforted by the force of nature that Klaus is- the other behaves like he wants a literal piece of Taki.

It seems to not even matter, though. They part like repelling magnets; Taki pushing himself an arm's length away so he can simply breathe in enough air to replenish all which Klaus had robbed him of. He feels drained and breathless. A hand catches his face, smothering down and bottling up everything from the moment before. The mask goes back on and he reels himself back in; shoulders square and face marred only by a wary scowl.

He can't keep up with Klaus. Hot and Cold; forever one or the other. Always either scalding or chilling him to the marrow. ]

Do you honestly believe I'd wish for you to be my instructor in such matters?

Better me than most.

[ The lighter takes a few flicker to give flame - gas; have to remember that, stop the damned raids, get gas in the lighter. He enjoys his first drag of the stick at some leisure. The second, more so. Finally, he holds the cigarette out to Taki in silent invitation. ]

Deep breath before. Suck. Release. Inhale - slowly. Slowly.

[ He frowns for a moment, takes the cigarette back to illustrate the point - before returning it out again. ]

Like that. No, slower for you. Then you breathe out. Done.

[Taki's features are unreadable for a good long while. His thoughts are circling around why this moment remains far from two young men sharing a casual conversation and the drags of a cigarrette passed between them.

How could Taki begin to explain to Klaus the strange and inexplicable olive branch he was offering remained taboo? Not merely a practice frowned upon but once which remained condemnable for him. For one who had to be 'Pure'.

Unmarred. Unblemished. Untouched and untainted.

Could Klaus ever understand why offering to take Taki under his wing, and school him upon human vices, was like asking to shame the man, break his vows and betray the spirit of his people? His soldiers.

Perhaps it was moot and even blasphemous to think Taki had not already traversed down that road long ago; considering the tryst-laden history between the pair. But even still- he could not ignore everything he represented, all that he stood for.

Which is why, though fingers deftly pluck the paper-wrapped tobacco from Klaus' callous-laden fingers; it's flickering red embers are carefully rubbed out against the ground nearby. There's no malice there, only an air of calm which extends from the creaseless brow to the gentle way he smoothly returns to face Klaus.

The proximity only ceases to gradually increase once Taki is close enough to count each and every one of Klaus' eyelashes. There he places himself, somewhere dangerously between tempered defiance and curiosity; as if determined to meet the challange presented. It's then that his eyes shut, and he simply breathes the last remnants of smoke lingering on Klaus' breath. The moment is gone before Klaus has time to take a second; in this time Taki has casually leaned away into comfortable distance yet again. ]

Bitter. Earthern yet metallic tasting. It's not terrible.

[ As circumstances of war go, this is when, he imagines, Klaus' capitulation comes as a polite formality, rather than a gesture of great exception. It's painful how taut his leash's been pulled.

...Taki Reizen, you hold yourself too proud.

Bitter? Metallic? Klaus wants to force his lips on this man. Show him bitter. Truly bitter.

He somehow falls into a casual shrug instead. ]

Tsk. High tar. Stays in your lungs.

[ His glance stays fixed on the squandered cigarette. ]

Know about some boys - [ His hand goes up preemptively. ] you're not getting the names [ Then down. ] - they get up in the morning, shine their shoes, do up their uniforms. Kiss the flag. Eat yesterday's ratios. Then take a drink every hour of doing rounds. Small flask in the chest pocket. Guess it's rum. Could be something cheaper.

[ Laughter. ]

Good boys. But I'm afraid I never picked up one of those bottles, so there's no alcohol to give you. Sorry. That lesson'll have to wait.

You have enough vices as it stands.
I'm not sorry a compulsive tendency towards alcohol fails to be one of them.

[It stays in the lungs? He's entirely unapologetic and unceremonious, cloaked more in the role of commander than companion when he moves again. Taki's hands simply brush open the front of Klaus' coat, take a moment to feel along the inside of that garment and then withdraw the remains of that pack of cigarettes which had been tucked there.

No time is wasted in blatantly antagonizing him over the matter; but instead that item is tucked away into one of the little pockets on Taki's person. An act of confiscation.]

Also, I would appreciate it if you didn't deliberately damage yourself.

No one holds the right to sully what's mine.
Not even by your own hands against yourself, Klaus.

As you say, sir.

[ He doesn't bother to stop the 'confiscation,' much as it has no place. It's neither martial policy, nor the commander's due, but the shinka is owed certain dues. That, or Taki. Sometimes, it's difficult to say.

But he's an obedient dog, not a tame one. He holds Taki's glance steadily. ]

There'll be another.

I'll remove them again, then.

[The edges of a frown crease the otherwise still and thin shape of hTaki's mouth. It's a struggle to retain the exterior guise of calm when everything, every single thing about Klaus upsets the inner serenity needed to center himself.]

As many times as is necessary.

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