gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[ No roommate is exempt from chores, and as Francel clearly enjoyed himself earlier, Zephirin pauses in his preparations, glancing up to meet Francel's intent gaze before considering the dishware they've used. Their plates and utensils sit waiting on the table, the frying pan and mixing bowls beside the sink.

Zephirin hands Francel a fresh dish towel from a drawer. ]

We'll take turns. Could you stack the plates on the counter?

[more delighted than he has any right to be, francel nods and eagerly begins drying the dishes as zephirin has asked. if he were a miqo'te, zephirin would no doubt be able to see his eagerly wiggling tail and ears; alas, as he is an elezen, his happiness manifests itself only as a certain perking of the ears...]

Mm-hmm. Ah... like this? And the spoons go... here?

[ Together, they make short work of this task, leaving a tidier kitchen in their wake. Francel's returning enthusiasm is oddly enjoyable to observe — not even Janlenoux appeared so excited in his domain. ]

Will Civerege be coming to the door or are you meeting him outside? You'll have a spare key.

[ Untying his apron, Zephirin hangs it away on a hook for Francel to don when his turn to wash the dishes comes. ]

He'll be coming to the door. Ah, he texted me a few minutes ago to say he'll be here soon...

[unfortunately, francel doesn't understand the point of zephirin's taking off the apron at all, and he goes on washing the dishes without the protection of an apron to safeguard his rose-pink sweater from soap and water. he hums as he washes a dish free of egg-related oils, but it isn't long before the apartment buzzer sounds out, and francel has to put the plate down.]

Oh! That must be him.

[ Civerege arrives just as Zephirin switches out the dish towel in his hands for the apron retrieved from its hook, meaning to offer it to Francel, who might not realize that he has Zephirin's permission to use it. For now, Zephirin holds onto it, and lowers his arm. ]

Let's finish this later — I'll go with you and introduce myself.

[ With that, Zephirin makes for the door to let Civerege deliver Francel's belongings. ]

[civerege, as it turns out, is a harried-looking duskwight man with steely blue eyes that rove over francel's face as soon as the door is open, searching for any sign of mistreatment — he has grown wary of francel's taste in men. after a moment, he steps aside, using his hand to indicate the large rolling trunk in which he has packed francel's requested items.

"i brought your things, joacin," the housekeeper says, gruffly, evidently still under the impression that zephirin, too, is a man he might have to scare away.]

Thank you, Civerege! And, er... forgive me, Zephirin, but might you assist...?

[ Civerege's distrust is a good sign, indicating that at least someone close to Francel knows of his relationship with Aucheforne. Zephirin doesn't take offense; unperturbed, he rounds the side of the trunk, in position to haul it into the apartment.

To Civerege, he merely says: ]

Would you like to come in? We have both tea and coffee.

[ It would be too brief a visit to convince the man that Francel is safer here than at home, but it should serve as a step in that direction. ]

[the offer seems to take civerege off-guard — for a moment, he sputters, seemingly uncertain of what he should do. "no, i should go," comes out of his mouth first — no doubt he is thinking of the housework that awaits him back at the haillenarte residence — but then he thinks about his obligation to protect francel from harm, and looks at francel's eager smile, and then the duskwight seems to relent. "i — well, maybe only for a little while..."

francel smiles broadly.]

Come now, Civerege, it won't take long! Mother and Father are away this week, so you know they can't possibly fire you for being derelict in your duties...

[civerege bristles good-naturedly, evidently still trying to put up a tough front. "they won't fire me because i'm good at what i do!" he growls, as francel laughs.]

Thank you for taking the time to come.

[ In lieu of laughter, a smile touches Zephirin's lips as he watches the exchange before leading the way inside. The trunk containing Francel's belongings finds a temporary spot in Zephirin's bedroom, put aside to unpack later. Civerege and Francel are invited to take a seat in the living room area instead of the kitchen — while Zephirin prepares the former's chosen beverage, they have the chance to talk undisturbed.

Francel has explained the situation to Civerege, he assumes. ]

[civerege's beverage of choice is, as it turns out, coffee with sugar and milk on the side, so that he can mix it himself. "no one ever gets it right," the man grumbles, ostensibly because his preferred amount of sugar and milk is, frankly, ungodly. francel hides a smile behind his hand as he makes an attempt at introductions.]

So, erm... as I said, Civerege, this is Zephirin. I'll be staying with him for a while... at least until, um... until Aucheforne stops hanging around.

["yes, but we don't know when that's going to be, now do we?" civerege quips, then sighs. he nods at zephirin, offering his hand. "civerege. nice to meet you."

his grip is deadly firm — tight, but not bone-crushing.]

[ Civerege's preference for an ungodly amount of sugar and milk stirred into his coffee contrasts almost comically with his gruff manner. But then, the man has a soft spot for his employers' youngest son, evidently a case of a hard outer shell concealing a kind heart within.

Zephirin takes Civerege's hand, matching his grip. ]

Likewise. I'm aware that this arrangement must raise questions, but we share the same goal. Francel is welcome to stay indefinitely.

[ Francel isn't a prisoner in Zephirin's apartment, however, not even for his protection. ]

[francel smiles at the sight of the two men shaking hands, strangely pleased by it. civerege is still regarding zephirin with an odd wariness. no doubt he must find it strange that his employers' son has suddenly grown attached to this strange young professor from university — he has the look of a man who is trying to dissect zephirin's appeal.]

Well, I won't stay forever... I'd rather not be a bother to you.

[civerege's brows arch. "oh," he says, exaggerated, as if re-evaluating his entire worldview. "so you two aren't together?"]

Not to my knowledge.

[ Even if they've slept in the same bed, which Civerege doesn't need to hear while he suspects Zephirin of luring Francel into his lair, another Aucheforne.

Their handshake done, Zephirin sits back. He doesn't assure Francel that the boy isn't a bother at all — by now, that should be obvious — nor will he insist on making their arrangement a permanent one, pleasant though it would be to have Francel's company. ]

I am willing to prove myself a worthy roommate, however.

[ Fortunately, in this day and age, it's unlikely to involve performing a series of impossible feats. ]

[this new revelation calms civerege considerably. settling back into his seat with a smile, he immediately seems much less tense — indeed, he even laughs a few times. in time, he finishes his coffee, then packs up his things, saying that he needs to get back to work. no doubt the upkeep of haillenarte manor is a considerable task for only one man.

"well, you take your time unpacking your things, francel," civerege says — and then he is gone.

the boy seems content enough with this outcome. after civerege leaves, he turns towards zephirin, smiling.]

...See, he's nice enough after he warms up to you. He's a bit silly that way.

Edited 2018-03-04 23:34 (UTC)

His reservations are understandable, but I'd like to think that we've convinced him to consider me an ally rather than a threat.

[ Civerege has left to resume his duties sufficiently reassured that Francel hasn't found new worrisome company to keep — and he knows where Zephirin lives and works. With that taken care of, and the remaining dishes put away, restocking Zephirin's kitchen and rearranging the apartment await, as does Zephirin's promise of showing Francel his mysterious hobby on the way home.

Fulfilling that promise takes the grocery-laden car to Saint Reinette's Park, where Zephirin invites Francel to follow him along tree-lined paths to a lone bench atop a hill. ]

[francel enjoys grocery shopping the way a visitor to a foreign land enjoys visiting designated landmarks. despite the fact that he was clearly raised in luxury, with few material wants left unsated, and he has of course stepped foot into a supermarket before, francel seems as though he has never seen such neat and colorful rows of shelved products, and he stays close to zephirin, his guide and guardian, as though the wonders of consumerism might rise up on their heels and attack him.

in the car, francel is no less like an eager puppy. he is unabashedly eager to know what sort of hobbies zephirin has. when they near the park bench, however, his expression becomes slightly taken aback.]

Don’t tell me you’re a people-watcher, now...

Edited 2018-03-08 16:08 (UTC)

Surprisingly few people come here.

[ It's an ideal place to read outdoors, out of the way compared to benches along the park's paths or around the duck pond and gardens, and so this spot suits Zephirin's purposes just fine. From here, they have a view of the park grounds and the city's skyline in the distance. Wildflowers dot the grass carpeting the hill in spring and summer; bright autumn leaves take their place when the tree near the bench sheds them.

Zephirin has brought with him a pencil and a sketchpad kept in his car, and he opens the latter to its last used page for Francel to see that the sketch there depicts not a single person — the picture is of a small round bird perched on a branch. ]

Oh!

[suddenly delighted by zephirin's sketch of the little round bird, francel abruptly leans closer, the better to see all the details in zephirin's pencil sketch. though it is but a sketch, the mere illusion of a living thing on flat paper, the bird looks charmingly plump and lively. francel cannot hide his delight.]

You draw?

[ The only other person to know of this particular hobby is Janlenoux. Zephirin draws every once in a while when time allows it, for himself — it's one thing he does simply for enjoyment.

But he takes pleasure in witnessing Francel's reaction, too. ]

Admittedly not all that often, but it's a way to unwind, I've found.

You're really good at it!

[leaning upon one arm of the bench, francel presses closer still, eager to see more of zephirin's sketchwork. he smells faintly floral and calming; his hair brushes up against zephirin's cheek, silky and feather-soft.]

Can I see more? Could I look through your book? Oh, but I won't be pushy! Only if you want to, okay?

Of course.

[ Perhaps eager himself now to watch Francel look through his sketchpad, finding the boy's delighted interest charming, Zephirin readily hands the book over. It contains nothing private; most of his sketches are of whatever happened to catch his eye out here at the time, much like the plump little bird. One page merely features a leaf, with careful attention paid to its intricate pattern of veins. Reproducing such details appears to be Zephirin's method of unwinding.

Some sketches were evidently drawn elsewhere, of people after all, or at least one person — Janlenoux, in profile, follows a study of hands. ]

Oooh, it's Jan...

[the boy calls janlenoux by a truncated version of his name as readily as if they were friends. the baker's lumpy profile provided an interesting facial study, no doubt — and a more interesting challenge than what adelphel's more classical beauty would have presented. briefly, francel imagines what he would look like beneath zephirin's skillful pencil.

he flips from page to page, eyes skirting over trees, buildings, a delightfully dreamy cat. and after some time, he finally feels empowered to ask the question that has been on his lips:]

I... I'm sure you get this question an awful lot, Zephirin, but do you... suppose you could draw me?

[ As Francel's gaze traces the lines of his sketches, Zephirin's rests on the boy. Francel's features are smoother than Janlenoux's, gentler than Adelphel's, expressive in a way that would make him another appealingly challenging subject to capture. Zephirin doesn't have volunteers lined up, of course, contrary to what Francel assumes, and by the look that settles on his face, the request intrigues him. ]

Would you like me to do so now? [ Zephirin motions at the sketchpad. ] When I drew Janlenoux, I had his consent to observe him in the kitchen — perhaps if we were to combine our hobbies, neither of us needs to fear subjecting the other to boredom.

Oh, er... my hobby is a little...

[naturally, francel has his phone in his pocket, but he has not forgotten that his hobby of "collecting cute boys" is not very presentable. aucheforne was never fond of it — aucheforne always thought it was horribly embarrassing to have a boyfriend who played dating sims in public, never mind francel's constantly trying to explain that they were strategy games.

the one good thing about francel's games, in aucheforne's view, was that they kept him occupied and quiet.]

It's not as though I really like how I look, but... I just thought it might be nice to see how you would draw me. You needn't put up with me.

It would be my pleasure to draw you. I merely recommend playing your games or an instrument, or reading a book, as it's likely to take longer than a few minutes.

[ Zephirin has his pencil ready, and their peaceful hill makes for a pleasant backdrop, but since Francel has none of his instruments or books here with him, his phone is his only immediate source of entertainment. Zephirin's artistic vision, as it were, is nothing more than a natural scene, to sketch the boy at his most relaxed, not in any artificially arranged pose. ]

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