Just Go With It

[Laszlo]

"It's Symenestra, and, er, no. They don't." Two fresh mugs of amber arrived, and Laszlo's empty one was efficiently collected and carried away. Feeling awkward, Laszlo stole his hand back from Ambrose to take the item by its handle, lifting it to his lips.

"But I'm not a Symenestra," Laszlo finally explained, his tongue smacking against the roof of his mouth after he swallowed, setting down the mug again. His fingers remained hooked in the rectangular metal handle. With the long of his forearm, Laszlo comfortably rested his weight onto the table to casually lean into the conversation. "I look like one, and that's the end of it. Have you heard of the Ethaefal?"

Without waiting for him to answer, too fearful to hear a 'no', Laszlo continued. "I'm a son of Syna, the sun goddess. My form looks different under the sunlight. This isn't my true face. This is a previous life I lived, roughly fifty years ago. In the day, you can see my divine phase."

That didn't exactly explain what Laszlo had been saying. "I'm not supposed to… exist, physically. I sort of… fell out of the ukalas. That's what I meant. I know it sounds strange."

[Ambrose Kain]

Now this was truly fantastical, and Ambrose was hard-pressed not to immediately suppose he was being taken for a fool. Twisting roads and shifting landscapes were one thing--to meet a stranger who claimed to be the son of a goddess was quite another. Yet Ambrose prided himself in his ability to read people, and Laszlo didn't seem to be lying. If nothing else, the man thought he was speaking the truth. "Ukalas...isn't that the, uh," he hesitated, waving his hands vaguely in the air to reference something not easily put into words. "Where the gods come from?" His brows drew together, and he leaned closer still, until their noses were practically touching. The feeling of urgent intimacy matched the rapid palpitations of his heart as he tried to consider Laszlo's words genuinely. "But--you--" For a different purpose this time, Ambrose reached out and encircled Laszlo's wrist with his thumb and forefinger, giving it a slight tug. "You're not imaginary, I can see and hear and feel you, so how--?" If his brows drew any further over his eyes, he wouldn't have been able to see. It looked a little comical, but Ambrose was too preoccupied to notice. "So, an Ethaefal is...a fallen god?" Could that be as painful as it sounded? Surely he meant metaphorically--right? "But you're drinking...um, what exactly does that...what does being an Ethaefal entail? Do you eat? Do you sleep? Do you--" He hesitated, and blushed crimson for a second before he managed to smother it under a wry smile. "Sorry. I'm being rude, aren't I?" Sorry. In one swift motion, he released hold of Laszlo, leaned back in his chair, and lifted his own mug, taking a purposeful sip. Even if he was titillated, he ought to give the appearance of nonchalance--surely Laszlo grew weary of such questions, if he was such a rare creature as he claimed.*

[Laszlo]

"Uh, yes, sort of—" Laszlo recoiled his neck slightly in surprise as Ambrose drew even closer. His eyebrows slid upward as his placid amethysts widened in confusion. Why was Ambrose so curious, or rather, why was he so eager to be physically close? Was he teasing Laszlo with that earnest, fascinated light in his features? Or was the red rose making him act this way? Whether this was simply the way Ambrose was or not, Laszlo felt his heart beat faster, tickling the base of his throat.

Suddenly his thin wrist was enclosed by warm fingers, and a lilac glance dipped briefly downward. "Uh—" Ambrose was intimate, wasn't he!

"No! No, no, no… I-I'm not a god. Not even close." With one hand imprisoned by Ambrose gentle insistence, Laszlo used the other to rub unsurely at the back of his neck. He'd only met the affable Zeltivan a few minutes ago, and was at a complete loss as to how to counter his forthcoming nature. He certainly was… engaging. Out of precaution, Laszlo leaned back to create room enough for himself to breathe comfortably. "You don't need to apologize. You're not being rude, really, I just… you're the first person who's really cared, to be honest. Beyond a basic academic level, anyway," Laszlo added, remembering a certain Symenestra that had used Laszlo as an educational tool. "It's actually quite nice. I don't mind at all."

Looking down at his captive hand, Laszlo idly rubbed his long thumbnail against the side of his index finger, a simple small movement under Ambrose' forearm. A new, shy smile grew upon his wan lips, showing the barest glint off of his right fang. "I'm not much different from you, but my soul was taken from the living world of Mizahar and brought into the ukalas to be with Syna. I was supposed to be immortal but… well, here I am." He forced a weak laugh, not wanting to think about the melancholy of his existence. "I don’t really have to eat, or sleep, but I can if I want to. Syna's light is all the nourishment I need."

Gentle eyes went astray. "Sort of like a… plant, I guess."

[Ambrose Kain]

For a fallen god--or whatever he was--he didn't seem all that sure of himself. It was almost...cute. No, it was cute, and the paradox between ethereality and childish uncertainty could only make Ambrose smile. He liked this Symenestra-Ethaefal-fellow quite a lot, even if and despite the fact that they'd just met. But then, Ambrose always caught an interest in the unusual, especially when the unusual came in such a comely package. "That sounds like a pretty good deal, all things considered," Ambrose murmured, his voice dropping a sultry few notes. The more the ethaefal doubted himself, the more comfortable Ambrose felt taking the lead, ushering the conversation in a direction that pleased him all the more. With studied nonchalance, his grip on Laszlo's wrist gentled, and his thumb began absentmindedly grazing the back of the man's narrow wrist. "Luckily I've never been in a position where food was scarce, but many have and are. Likewise, we'd all be a lot more productive if we didn't lose half our lives to slumber." Pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips, he gestured towards Laszlo with a slight tilt of his chin. "Don't be silly. Plants don't talk." Feeling bolder still, he put his other hand over Laszlo's, and gently turned it until he held it securely between both of his own. His hands felt warm and dry, and that wasn't the only part of him heating up. Well, he was a healthy young man, and undeniably attracted to the stranger. It was only natural he'd react in such a way. "Nor do they feel, I think--not that I can tell. But you feel, don't you? Emotions?" His thumb resumed its small movement, brushing over the muscle tendons in Laszlo's hand. "Physical touches?"*

[Laszlo]

Laszlo's free hand remained on the back of his neck, nervously teasing the long wisps of hair that sprouted from his neckline, unnerved by a certain quiet rush that swam in his veins and made him feel quite mortal. Though naïve he was, there had to be a point at which Laszlo's observation and common sense would tell him he was being overtly flirted with. Now he was relatively certain that's what this was, though he didn't expect these attentions to come from another man. Laszlo was more comfortable with women; he could read them easier, toy with them if he wanted. It was something innate about his Symenestran nature. But here? Laszlo was at a loss, and probably at Ambrose' mercy.

Regardless of his lack of confidence, Laszlo's blood was as hot as any other man's. He wasn't immune to desire.

"Yes, all of that. I think, feel, want, and need." Laszlo paused to swallow, feeling a warmth in his cheeks as they gave off the slightest hint of color. His eyes were fixed on the loving treatment of his hand and wrist, a long gray thing ensnared in Ambrose's healthy pink human fingers. Every soft touch seemed to electrify his skin, and his gracefully thin forearm couldn't help but twitch. "Although—"

A pull of apprehension brought his deep violets upward, placing them in Ambrose' russet-eyed stare. Suddenly he began to notice how much he liked every gentle tip of his head, and the warm, wanting look he was getting. Laszlo tongued at his fang as the roof of his mouth tingled. In the side of his vision, two mugs of ale stood forgotten and neglected. This evening wasn't about drinking anymore.

At least the thought of Seven's madness was purged completely from his mind.

"I don't really know if I…" Laszlo tugged at the strands at the back of his head, anchored around his fingers. "…want to."

[Ambrose Kain]

"Want to?" Ambrose echoed in a voice that was entirely too innocent, his catlike smile widening slightly. His thumb was actively stroking the back of Laszlo's hand by then, though that remained the only piece of actual physical contact between them. Of course, a small part of Ambrose's mind was still conscious of the fact that they were hardly alone, and indeed he thought he could catch a few curious, if not disgusted stares passing their way. But it was only a small part of him, and he could easily and blithely ignore it--so he did. "Want to...feel?" he belatedly supplied, drawling out his words the way a baker drizzles molasses into cake batter. "Hmmmm. Yes, I agree, feeling can be scary. Sentient beings are susceptible to an awful lot of hurts, both physical and emotional. But feeling can also be exquisite and wonderful--surely you know that? In all your years of existence, there must have been some moments of happiness and pleasure, no?" He had no idea how old the ethaefal was, but he supposed it must have been a significant period of time. Who ever heard of fallen gods who weren't at least a century old?*

[Laszlo]

The hazy, cornered look on Laszlo's pallid face finally wavered, subject to a brief flash of minor pain. He angled his amethysts down at the reflective surface of the polished table, then closed his eyes altogether. How old did Ambrose think Laszlo was? "I fell less than two years ago," he muttered, his volume just above a whisper. He didn't clarify that by 'fell', he meant 'born', only assumed Ambrose would understand. "I haven't experienced much, myself. I have memories, though, of older lives that… I recall, sometimes. Being the people I used to be."

Laszlo's heart slowed as his whole reality caught up to him, taming the excitement of the moment and reminding him of what little experience he, as the Ethaefal, did have. "My fangs—" he remembered, looking back up to Ambrose with a new, fervent plea in his dark, satiny eyes. If Ambrose was going to kiss him, he at least ought to warn him about what happened the last time someone tried to. "I'm not afraid of pain or hurting. Rather used to it. It's just… The last time I tried to… a girl hurt herself. Symenestra are venomous."

Self-conscious, Laszlo tugged on his captive hand reluctantly, suddenly desiring an exit. He looked over to the exit, keeping his eyes off of that warm brown gaze. "It'd be easier if I didn't have to worry about that."

[Ambrose Kain]

For a moment, Ambrose was stunned, and his fingers slid to a stop against Laszlo's flesh. Only two years? And before that, he had...no memory? He nearly asked to be certain, but paused again at the ethaefal's outburst. "Fangs?" he echoed in bemusement, arching a brow. Yet as he looked over the man's anxious expression, he finally noticed the flash of slightly elongated canines. Oh. Wait, he looked human, but he had poisonous teeth? What was he, a rattlesnake?! Though it was highly inappropriate and probably more than a little rude, Ambrose couldn't help it. He laughed. "My, you are an interesting one," he chuckled, his fingers gently resuming their soft strokes. Seeing how upset he'd made the ethaefal, Ambrose determined that he should ignore his own discomfort and put a smile back on that lovely face. "Well. I wasn't planning to let you bite me, but if you should want to in the future, I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He hadn't meant for the words to sound quite so sexual in nature, but once they were out, he found he didn't mind. So Laszlo's teeth were venomous--but that couldn't be the end of it, or how else did other symenestra procreate? Besides, even if Laszlo couldn't place any kisses without fear of causing injury, Ambrose had no such restrictions. He'd just have to do enough kissing for the both of them--a task he was more than willing to take on. Well, provided Laszlo even wanted him to engage in kissing. He hadn't gotten that far yet. "Really, don't look so frightened. I'm an adult, and not so very foolish, I don't think. I can take care of myself. Relax." Ambrose reached forward, and gently cupped Laszlo's cheek. Despite the thirty-something nature of his looks, his expression was borderline childish. It only made him that much more endearing--appealing to Ambrose's protective side. "That girl--it was just an accident, I'm sure. Accidents happen." Ambrose had certainly endured his own share of tragic happenstances. But no, he wouldn't dwell on that right now. It just wasn't in his nature to drag out old wounds for the masochistic purpose of revisiting them.*

[Laszlo]

Ambrose told Laszlo to relax, so he did. The anxiety that had crept up into the pit of his stomach slowly departed, vanishing completely when he felt that soft lay upon his cheek. His eyes fell closed as he pressed gently into it, his captive hand twitched and flexed, longing for soothing attention again. The charming confidence and flirtatious amusement Ambrose brandished quickly calmed a nascent disquiet in the Ethaefal. The sandy-haired Zeltivan did not seem to mind taking the reins.

How badly Laszlo had longed to surrender, to let someone else worry about everything.

Shy violets revealed themselves again, staring sleepily at the lower half of his new acquaintance's face, sinking further downward over his neck and the thick, autumn-ready attire covering his chest. Removing his free hand at last from the sanctuary of his hair, it drifted forward toward Ambrose, hesitating once for half a moment. Tilting his head in mild consideration, Laszlo ran the pads of his fingers along the collar of Ambrose' tunic, even tracing the long edge of his thumbnail over the nape of his neck.

"I don't usually…" The words trailed off as he leaned a little further into the table, his bashful eyes cast just off to the side, not confident enough to meet Ambrose' eyes. "…meet people like you." Wait no, that wasn't it. Laszlo shook his head quickly, trying to right himself. "I mean, like this. I don't usually meet people like… this."

[Ambrose Kain]

It thrilled Ambrose to see Laszlo reciprocate, and he barely managed to suppress a wide grin, not wanting to kill the mood by being too expressive. It really was an intimate sort of place, the dim lighting, quiet voices, and isolation of each table leaving one with the sense of being all alone--or alone, save for the person across from them. "Maybe it is the roses," he replied with a faint grin, though privately he attributed it more to his skills as a smooth talker. "Or maybe it's just fated." Jeez, now he was really laying it on thick. Oh well--this was fun. He hadn't flirted so overtly in a long time, or met with such pleasing results. And he really did like the fellow, what he knew of him anyway--mayhap there was a dark, brooding killer resting under the surface, but honestly Ambrose doubted that very much. Either way, it was an adventure. Maneuvering around the edge of the table, he stood suddenly, and all without taking his hands away from Lazlo's. Able to get much closer without the table to obstruct him, he leaned very near to Laszlo, his breath washing warmly over the ethaefal's ear. "You know, come to think of it, I'm not that thirsty. I am famished, though. I have some gourmet cheese I purchased at the market yesterday that I've been meaning to try--would you like to try it as well?" Of course, his main purpose was to get Laszlo alone where there weren't so many prying eyes to distract him, but there really was some cheese as well. Wouldn't it be fun if he could eat it off the ethaefal's stomach, piece by piece?*