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

[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. ]

I only have games with me right now...

[sheepishly, francel pulls his phone from his sweater's pocket, fidgeting with it as it fails to recognize his thumbprint, then gets it right on a second try. this all feels rather strange, being encouraged to play his games rather than being chastised for it. but then, francel reasons, perhaps zephirin has no reason to care simply because he knows that few people will be walking in the park.]

You don't mind?

Should I?

[ The real question is whether Francel minds playing his games in front of others, made self-conscious instead of being able to relax. Zephirin moves his sketchpad to his lap, pencil poised above the paper's surface. As Francel unlocks his phone, Zephirin catches a brief glimpse of the lock screen, then the phone's background, but he averts his gaze at that point, lowering it to the blank page of his sketchpad.

He doesn't begin just yet — instead, he waits to give Francel some time to adjust to the unusual request asked of him. ]

[nowadays, francel's lock screen and background say nothing of his personality. he has wiped away all personalizations, set everything to their meaningless defaults. once upon a time, his lock screen was a picture of him with aucheforne; long before that, it was haurchefant's smiling face.

but francel doesn't know what he wants to see anymore. he isn't even entirely certain that he knows who he is.]

...Aucheforne never liked it when I played games around him. He'd say I... I was being rude. That I wasn't paying attention to him.

[uncertainty colors the tone in francel's voice, but this does not deter him from tapping on an icon in the corner of his home screen, pulling up the logo of his fantasy game, which fades away as he rapidly taps through cutscenes.]

[ At mention of Aucheforne, Zephirin looks up. His sidelong glance lands on Francel's profile, on the boy's lowered lashes and the curve of his full cheek, and then it drops to Francel's tapping finger and the images flashing by on his phone's screen. Zephirin's pencil remains motionless.

Aucheforne, despite his absence, isn't completely erased from Francel's life, reminders of his influence lurking even in otherwise harmless pastimes.

Could anyone who knows Francel interpret his behaviour as rudeness? In Zephirin's company, the boy has been nothing but attentive — in fact, he seems the sort to go overboard in order to make sure that he doesn't offend or impose on anyone, afraid of being a bother.

Zephirin is inclined to think that Aucheforne spun anything that Francel chose to do for himself as not paying attention to his boyfriend. ]

You're doing as I asked — I see no reason to complain. However, if you're uncomfortable, sit as you prefer while I draw you.

[ Quietly, the tip of Zephirin's pencil scratches across the page, starting on faint outlines that gradually darken with detail. Francel's features take shape, from his soft mouth and dainty nose to the texture of his hair. ]

No, it's fine... I mean, this is okay...

[again, francel's response suggests the type of individual who is afraid to make mistakes, fearful of imposing on others — terrified of being a bother. he is keenly aware of the sensation of being watched, of the imaginary touch of zephirin's gaze upon his face and features. despite the fact that he asked for this, he does feel faintly embarrassed and self-conscious.

eventually, however, tension dissipates from his face, his body. francel hunches over in his seat, unaware of his own bad posture as he thoughtfully ponders his party's skillset and his opponent's future moves. he wears a look of utmost concentration — one would think him in the middle of writing a paper in french for professor de leusignac's class.

periodically, a member of his collection of cute boys offers his encouragement. this particular character has been but recently appointed francel's favorite commander — he appears to be a knight of some sort, with long blond hair and green eyes, and each time he appears on francel's phone screen, the boy smiles...]

[ Stealing another glance at Francel's screen, Zephirin soon uncovers the mystery of the boy's smile. Francel's expression softens with it, replacing his look of concentration — the boy regards the knight in his game with such fondness that it must have driven Aucheforne to irrational jealousy.

Zephirin, on the other hand, simply seizes the opportunity before him. The smile on Francel's lips is the final touch to complete capturing him at his most relaxed, and the Francel in Zephirin's sketch looks content, gazing dreamily at something unseen.

Zephirin's pencil stills. He pockets it, and holds his finished drawing upon his knees, silent as he watches Francel immersed in playing his game. ]

[francel does not notice when zephirin ceases his movements. the blond, green-eyed commander disappears from his screen; the boy furrows his brow once more, tapping slowly at his screen as he selects his party's actions and special skills.

at last — he has the sound on — the ferocious chimera he has been battling disappears in a flash of light; a victory fanfare plays as francel throws his head back in triumph, closing his eyes as he sighs in relief.]

It's over! Fury, I've been stuck on that boss for the last few days...

[sitting up properly, at last he remembers zephirin sitting at his side. he turns his head toward the man.]

...Oh! Did you finish?

Then I'd like to offer my congratulations.

[ Apparently Francel was so engrossed in his game that he forgot he had an audience at all, his movements unrestrained to celebrate his victory. Zephirin takes no offense — if anything, the look he gives Francel is one of mildly amused approval. They've accomplished exactly what they set out to achieve, learning a little more about each other through their hobbies.

To answer Francel's question, Zephirin slides his sketchpad over to the boy. ]

[francel's eyes light upon the sketch; they widen in surprise. this is his face in profile, he knows, a dreamy smile playing upon his lips — and yet the boy in the sketch is worry-free, impossibly happy, completely unlike his image of himself. it is simultaneously flattering and frustrating at the same time. an embarrassed smile plays about his lips.]

...This is me?

[he cannot help the shy giggle that escapes his lips as he lowers his phone into his lap.]

Zephirin! He looks nothing like me!

No?

[ Francel isn't wrong — Zephirin's sketch has captured his likeness accurately, save the self-conscious smile he wears again, a single, seemingly minor detail that makes disproportionately significant a difference. Consequently, the boy in the sketch appears uncharacteristically at ease to Francel himself. After all, between Aucheforne and Professor de Leusignac, relaxation doubtless slips through Francel's fingers, more often than not. ]

I drew what I saw, but I suppose I could redo it.

[ Taking his sketchpad back, Zephirin flips the page to a fresh sheet of paper, setting the tip of his pencil against it. Within seconds, the page is blank no longer — peeking around one edge is a swiftly sketched rendition of a lop-eared rabbit. Perhaps the edge of the page represents the doorway to Zephirin's office. ]

[the rabbit peeks over the edge of the page, strangely reproachful and frightened, its ears dangling in the direction of gravity. seeing this, francel bursts into fresh laughter — he understands, that is how he's peeked into zephirin's office before, too afraid of being a bother to walk in through the door normally.

emboldened by his own embarrassment, francel shakes his head and rests his cheek upon zephirin's shoulder, as if in an effort to hide his face.]

Oh, come on, now! Is that what you see when you look at me, too?

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