ifionlyhadthecourage | Awash: IC Contact

"Implying I can't complain all I like on the way there?" he pointed out with a very stubborn pout. One that it would take only a second of knowing Caramia to know is there simply from his tone, let alone the centuries the two had accumulated between them.

But he followed. As he always did. And... well, as he always would. His steps gradually fell into the same rhythm as Kyrie's own, without even thinking much about it. He seemed far too busy complaining than to realize what else he happened to be doing.

"You could at least tell me how far we're going I could've brought us a blanket or something! Making me leave so suddenly is extremely selfish of you."

"You can't." Weird how he sounds so certain of that, as if it's some fundamental truth that Caramia cannot, in fact, complain. He angles his head to glance over, expression shifting into one of subtle amusement. "If anything unfavorable comes out of that idiot mouth of yours, I'll have it sewn shut and the string tied to the highest branch in the forest."

He probably doesn't mean it... Probably. He doesn't slow or stop their progress at least, so there's that. But, after a beat, he does heave exactly one, dramatic sigh and returns his attention to the path before them. They seem to be headed through the town center, in the direction of Flavo. It's a pretty familiar trip.

"I've told you as much before, you know." Kyrie lifts his chin, speaking as if distracted. "You say it as if I'm not fully aware of that fact about myself."

Of course he's selfish--he knows he is, just as surely as he knows the colors of the sunrise. Hell, even THIS is selfish. From the way he holds his hand, to the way he leads him in the direction of his old cottage, there's not a single scene he hasn't yet played out in his mind and fine-tuned into something that will better benefit him in the end.

It's the same game as he's always played, it's just... backwards, now. Instead of holding his heart so tightly to his chest, gathering every bit he can and keeping it locked safe between his fingers, he's begun to offer it, instead. Piece by piece, entrusted to others, but especially to Caramia--and, while that alone may not seem inherently selfish, Kyrie knows far too well their weight, and how sharp he may find their edges.

"Yet you chose to be with me anyway. If anyone is at fault here, it's you."

"My fault?" he whined, and looked like he was about to continue his onslaught of complaints despite Kyrie's previous warning, but he stopped short to turn his head and sneeze into his hand. There's a little shiver as he sniffed, patting himself down for his handkerchief to wipe his nose.

There's a pause, of course, but without even turning to Kyrie, he added quietly:

"...I can't say I don't love that part of you. I do. Just as I do all the others."

"Your fault," he agrees, pleasantly enough.

The sneeze doesn't exactly startle him, but the sound does draw his eye again. It's not as if they'll be outside for much longer, and the cottage has been fixed up enough by now to provide as decent a shelter as any, but... well, if his pace picks up just the slightest bit, who can really blame him? He can feel the cold too, you know.

He gives a soft hum, as much a sound of skepticism as it is one of acknowledgement, but remains otherwise silent until they've neared their destination. The cottage hasn't really changed much since he and Shiho left it. The garden is perhaps the biggest change, more scarcely planted now in response to the change in seasons.

The good news is that they aren't going into the garden! And also that there are still some blankets and firewood inside. The bad news is that Kyrie's not offering any explanation as to why he's brought Caramia here in the first place. Whoops.

Once they arrived, of course, Caramia could have abandoned Kyrie for said blankets and firewood. It would've been the smart thing to do, in all honesty. Alas, instead, he remained at Kyrie's side with a firm hold on his hand still.

He finally turned to look at him quizzically as he pocketed his handkerchief.

"Uh...?" Generally, being brought somewhere tended to have, like, y'know... a reason? "Are you missing this place that much already?"

Further proof that Caramia is an idiot! Not that Kyrie's at all opposed to the arrangement.

"There's hardly anything to miss, is there?" Some creaky floorboards? An old flowerbox? It's not as if he'd grown attached to the place; he only came back because it was convenient. "I've no intentions of leaving you for this old place, if that's what you're worried about."

That's likely not what he's worried about, if he's even worried at all, but?? Nevermind all that. Kyrie pauses once they reach the door, tugging himself free so he can pull the door open.

As he steps inside, he spares a quick glance over his shoulder. "It's easier to keep flowers here," he offers. And, sure enough, along the windows there are pots of different sizes containing some of the different flowers found nearby, some with color and some still without. They all seem to be plants native to the town, all in varying stages of growth--although the arrival of winter has still clearly affected some. "...I visit now and then to check on them."

It was true that Caramia knew that Kyrie did care about flora such as this. He'd learned that especially when Kyrie had decided to take roses from their world instead of anything else that might've seemed a little more... relevant. But he didn't intend to ask. And furthermore, didn't really question what Kyrie really did anymore. There were times what he did seemed strange or out of place, and Caramia just kind of accepted it-- sometimes with panicked exclamations, of course. But that's usually reserved for the very strange. This time, though?

He laughed.

"You?" He shook his head. "I somehow find that hard to believe. Since when do you do anything that requires physical amounts of energy?"

He meant that lovingly, really.

Regardless of how he might have meant it, the disbelief in the statement is more than enough to strike a defensive chord. Especially so now, of all times.

"Perhaps if you thought to pay attention to what's beyond your own nose, you might have picked up on it," Kyrie snaps, irritation ringing clear in his voice for the moment before it sort of just... simmers into something a bit more mild. For all his bristling, he does try to hide his frown as he makes his way farther into the room. And it?? Sort of works. When he speaks again, it at least sounds more like he's pouting than genuinely angry. "It's not like I have many options in a place like this. I kept flowers back home, too, you know."

Damn. Why is he showing gratitude to this brat again?

Ah. That's not his usual tone of snarky bullshit. Caramia is usually so good about keeping up with how Kyrie is feeling-- better than anyone else, probably. Sometimes even better than Kyrie himself. But he does have his slip ups. Be it from his own naivete or just because he took a joke a little too far. This was probably an odd mix of both.

After a brief pause, he gently stepped towards Kyrie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Scusa, il mio amore... I didn't know." Duh. "I'm just surprised...! I mean, you didn't seem interested in personally maintaining our garden back home at all..."

Edited 2018-11-29 12:01 (UTC)

He's still tense, still a few ticks behind where he had been on the 'how open will Kyrie be today' meter, but he doesn't move away. That's always a good sign.

"Of course not. A consigliere doesn't have time to be playing in the garden all morning." More like he just doesn't like waking up early enough to do it--not to mention all the handiwork that needs to be done on a regular basis on a plot that large? No thanks. "I kept to my own, smaller projects."

Smaller, but not necessarily easier. If anything, the hardy perennials in the garden were childsplay compared to the complex requirements of the orchids and such he kept in his room. But technically, the fact that Caramia didn't know is part of why Kyrie brought him here in the first place, isn't it? He can't exactly fault him for it when he's kept so many things a secret for so long.

He brought him here for a reason.

"...The cutting I brought with me," he begins, somewhat quieter now. "From the bar. It's planted here, too."

Kyrie still sounded like he was pouting about it. Which, in a sense, was kind of cute? Had Caramia been poking fun at him over something in casual conversation to get such a reaction out of him, he probably would've laughed and just teased him more. However, Kyrie went out of his way to bring him here, and only been insulted in the process?

Funny how these pangs of guilt had become a familiar feeling at this point. He took his hand away, and used it to adjust his coat so he seemed like he just wanted it to be occupied.

"It's able to grow in this weather?"

Talk about a trick question. But after a beat, Kyrie moves to the door of what used to be his room and pulls that door open as well. He hardly glances in before he's nodding for Caramia to come see for himself.

"I'm not sure." Which is an odd thing to hear from him in any instance, but if Caramia has anything to say about it, then too bad, because he continues too quickly anyway. "It's taken root readily enough, I suppose. And it doesn't seem to have any issue with the climate, either."

His attention is fixed on a pot in the corner farthest from any sunlight with soil hardened from cold, housing something hardly more than a bundle of stems compared to the proud bush it was taken from. Despite the sad state of its surroundings, it's obvious that its been carefully tended to, even more so than the other, brighter flowers in the cottage. There are even bright, new leaves sprouting confidently outward.

Without taking his eyes off of it, Kyrie leans lightly against the doorframe.

"Admittedly, I was worried it wouldn't last very long..." Any trace of irritation has gone, replaced by a bittersweet sort of musing. "I've never tried to transplant them anywhere else before--the conditions for them to grow are so very particular, but... I think they may be better off here after all." There's another pause, shorter this time. Then, more gently, "I've tended them for years, and they haven't produced a single flower; I'd like to see if they'll bloom here."

There was a lot to take in there. He was... surprised, he supposed. That seemed to be at the forefront of his emotions. Surprised he didn't understand how these flowers flourished. Surprised that he had been working for so long on these things that didn't seem to hold any importance. Surprised that... Kyrie brought him here to begin with...? He didn't know about these things for, what, years? Decades?

There had to be some reasoning for this. Caramia just... couldn't figure it out. Whatever the case, though, he'd just roll with the punches, and give a very soft smile in Kyrie's direction.

"They must be very pretty if you've worked so hard to tend to them, Kyrie."

"I wouldn't know." Wow, admitting he doesn't know something twice in one sitting? Better start keeping count. But the more he talks about the roses, the more the tension in his shoulders eases, and the easier it is for him to focus on the present, rather than what might still come. "Like I said, I haven't had any luck getting them to bloom. They're fairly troublesome, that way."

There's a moment where he looks over, finally, and despite it all there's a sort of smile on his face. If it says anything, it's probably something along the lines of, "They're not the only ones." But his eye slides away again, and it's with a much lighter tone that he continues, pushing away from the doorframe and walking towards the window--or, more specifically, to some of the flowers left growing along the sill. Looks like there's another cluster of roses--red petals fold gently into one another, small and delicate, and likely the last ones of the season.

"And yet, I find it's that same troublesome quality that draws me to them... Although I suppose anyone would enjoy seeing the results of their hard work manifest by way of bright colors and full blossoms, wouldn't they?"

Guess this is just the Twilight Zone now. Thanks, Kyrie.

Caramia seemed much too preoccupied and confused to point out how weird it was to buy flowers without even knowing what they looked like. Those were questions for another time. Possibly to be used as teasing fodder? Who knows.

However preoccupied he might have been, though, was clearly pushed aside by Kyrie's smile, and completely abandoned for dead when he brought over flowers. It wasn't hard for him to understand where this was going, at least. Had he really gone through all this trouble just for this?

"I..." He paused, glancing down at the flowers, and then back to Kyrie. There's quite clearly a red tinge to his cheeks he probably didn't realize had crept it's way there, but had made itself known once Caramia realized he wasn't exactly talking about the flowers. Not really, anyway. "I'd argue that it's less like 'work' if it's something that makes you happy."

The enjoyment comes in not knowing things, obviously. In the mystery of it, and the excitement of learning something new. If he just knew what the flowers would look like, they'd be just the same as any other flower.

And, speaking of flowers, he'd taken a few of the larger stems--still small compared to the ones you'd normally get, but then they are coming from a relatively young plant here--and brought them over to Caramia, freshly cut as he was speaking. It's a good thing Caramia's missed being a complete idiot by a few notches, or else this would be a much slower process.

"You may be right about that," he allows, "but the care required to nurture something so delicate isn't necessarily learned through ease."

He isn't the type to be bashful or coy, and the color in Caramia's cheeks ought to be enough to ward off any unnecessary worry, but for just one fraction of a second, Kyrie does hesitate. The flowers in his hand are kept in a loose hold at his chest, some part of him still too cautious, before he glances once more over to the pot in the corner.

"...I intend to bring some back to Ruga, once they bloom." If not to their old home, then to their new one, here. "I can bring one to you then as well, if you'd like. But." Another pause, as he turns his attention back again, this time tilting the roses out in offering. He doesn't seem at all bothered by it--he could just as easily be handing him a book, a careless angle to his wrist as if he doesn't quite care whether he accepts them or not--but to be perfectly fair, it's less a lack of care, and rather that his interest lies more in Caramia's expression than the flowers themselves. "For now, you can have these."

How romantic...?

He went to reply again with his own nugget of wisdom. Specifically that of the fact that their love didn’t exactly classify as “delicate” for as long as they’ve known each other. However, he was briefly silenced by a coughing fit that he had turned away for, stifling it into his hand as not to ruin the mood. Sorry, Kyrie.

By the time he was ready to speak again, that window of opportunity had passed, and Kyrie was on something entirely new. That, of course, wasn’t a bad thing. After all, Caramia was certain if he had tried to bring it up, he’d say something along the lines of “since when were we talking about that?” Like he didn’t know the implications. Please...

It was hard to pin down what Kyrie’s intention here was. And furthermore, what was going through his head. That part wasn’t unusual, of course, but in a situation like this it seemed just a little off putting. It should be simple enough to put together. Kyrie wanted to give him flowers and tell him about his weird special flowers. No problem. But there was a lot more to that, he felt. Was he nervous? Is that why he stalled to talk about the other flowers? Was he upset they others hadn’t blooms, and thus had to “settle” for these? Was he trying to throw Caramia off, and thus doing all this in such a roundabout way??? There were so many questions.

And yet, even through everything, and even despite how flippantly these flowers might have been presented to him, Caramia still flustered at the offer. His blush grew just a tad more intense, as he delicately took the flowers that Kyrie didn’t seem to have any emotional attachment to. Opposing him completely, Caramia was overjoyed with them. He gently held them close to his chest and gave Kyrie a very rare shy smile. He wasn’t trying to undermine the fact that his special flowers clearly meant a lot to him, but these meant a lot to Caramia, too.

“Grazie,” he hummed. “I... I really appreciate this.”

Those flowers may hold no significance to Kyrie, little more than placeholders in a much grander scheme, but the reaction they provide him with is better than even he could have expected. For something so simple to so easily brighten someone's eyes... he might have considered himself envious, in any other moment. But in this moment, there's an unfamiliar warmth that spreads through his chest in seeing such an expression. It sets him at ease and lowers his guard, and his smile softens as he brings his hand back up to his face.

"I'm glad," he admits on a laugh, light enough that the only proof it was there at all is the humor dancing in his eye. "If you hadn't accepted them, I was afraid I might have to lie and say they were all Miss Shiho's after all..." He doesn't seem at all bothered in admitting this--in fact, there's near-tangible relief behind his words, now that he isn't treading quite so carefully.

But, hey, nevermind asking why Caramia might not have accepted them, because he's quick to continue, a curious tilt to his head.

"I hope you won't get too attached to them, of course. They're nothing more than your average flowers, and rather unimpressive ones at that... It's not likely they'll last even a week."

Caramia's smile might've been warm and bright, but it was certainly nothing compared to Kyrie's. Which, honestly, was a shame, since he very rarely showed such genuine happiness. Which made it all the more crucial that he cherish it while it were there.

Caramia closed whatever distance still lingered between them and settled a very sweet, gentle kiss once he finished his thoughts. There was a lot there to process, after all, and he wanted to bring up the whole "Hey, why would I not accept them?" thing, but he figured the kiss would at least clear the air on a couple things there. After all, he's pretty sure Kyrie needed the confirmation occasionally that Caramia loved him more than he could put into words.

"Don't say stuff like that... They're beautiful. Have you forgotten that since you get them all the time?" He scoffed a bit, then returned his smile. "I'll keep them as long as I can. Press them, if I have to. They're the first flowers you gave me, and for that reason alone they mean so much to me."

Awash: IC Contact

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How many times can I say bloom in this thread, Take 96

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