Not Entirely to Plan

[Laszlo]

Fall 35th, 511 AV
Six and a half bells.

"Nnh…" The blackness parted slowly, and a barely conscious Laszlo peered out into the waking world through his eyelashes. As his dull mind began slowly reorienting itself to reality, now freed from the discomfort of vague, unnerving dreams, he wondered absently why his tall, broad form was compressed to one narrow side of his bed so far that his left arm hung lethargically over the edge of the mattress.

Painstakingly he pulled the half-numb limb back into the respite of his warm bed, swiping away a patch of stale drool from the side of his mouth. Laszlo rubbed at his face, digging his fingers into his vibrant auburn waves, bumping his finger blindly into a smooth, sleek red horn at his temple. He arced his back and stretched, pressing his eyelids shut as he drew a long, hissing inhale. When he rolled over, his leg bumped something warm and soft.

Laszlo opened his eyes again.

There was another body sprawled in his bed, a healthy man in his twenties, nude but for a taut strip of wool blanket wrapped snugly around his waist. Laszlo sat up quickly, a fleeting throbbing in his head for the effort, and trained his sharp, shimmering golden eyes on the exposed back of his acquaintance. Only in the next moment did Laszlo remember that his name was Ambrose, and that he'd been kind and charming.

"Oh… right…" The Ethaefal hadn't been that intoxicated—the decision to bring Ambrose into his room was a mostly lucid one—but it was still the first time he'd ever woken up next to anyone, and he had not been remotely expecting to see this.

Not that that was anything to complain about, but…

Pulling his legs from what he had salvaged of his bedcovers in the night, Laszlo paused to take note of his matching outfit of nothing. "Right," he repeated numbly, then swiveled and pressed his feet upon the cold wooden floor. Leaning over his knees, Laszlo fished up a tangled pair of discarded pants and quickly went about putting them on.

Leaving the bed, Laszlo crossed the room in a groggy semi-stumble, feathering his fingers through his curling hair and tossing it into something hopefully presentable and handsome. Illuminated by the gentle morning rays pushing a dusty beam of light through the window, the Ethaefal was nowhere near the creature he was last night. His lithe figure and ashen skin were traded for a moderate build and a more human pink hue, mildly iridescent like mother-of-pearl. His crescent horns bloomed with sunlight, becoming a more striking red as he stepped into the windowlight, shirtless and barefoot.

The air felt thick and humid, so Laszlo nudged open the window's lock. It took effort to pry the thing open, and it finally came loose with a loud groan. Laszlo sent a considerate glance back to Ambrose, but soon turned back to the window again, leaning on his elbows upon the sill. A morning breeze pulled at his chestnut strands, brushing them delicately over his face as the sunlight view of an Alvad street offered him a good morning's greeting.

[Ambrose Kain]

"Mmmm..." Blinking his long lashes, Ambrose slowly rolled onto his backside and cast his slit gaze towards the source of light. In the window stood an unfamiliar figure, but rather than feel alarmed, Ambrose was simply puzzled. He watched the stranger quietly while he pieced together the night's events, and though he recalled something about Laszlo mentioning having a different shape in the day time, his mind couldn't quite believe that the change could be so drastic. On the other hand, it wasn't as if Laszlo had turned into a woman, or some kind of scaled beast--he was just a little broader of shoulder, and had traded his ashen pallor for fair skin that seemed to glimmer in the sun. So, this was what a fallen god looked like. "You weren't exaggerating," Ambrose called in cheerful greeting, finally breaking the soft silence. Ambrose had pulled himself to lay on his stomach across the width of the bed, his chin resting in his palms and his legs folded upward at the knee. He was unabashed in his nudity, and only smiled at the half-deity with the innocent pride of a satisfied child. And he was satisfied--his night with Laszlo had been wonderful, if unexpectedly sudden. Turned out that the ethaefal made quite an excellent lover, willing to go along with Ambrose's suggestions to maximize their pleasure. In a way, Ambrose had stolen his virginity, but he thought to himself with some smugness that there were certainly less pleasant ways it could have gone. Laszlo looked quite different now, though, and not only in physical shape. Though Ambrose couldn't see too much detail from his vantage, Laszlo looked...calmer, more at ease with the world and himself than had the slightly-tipsy symenestra Ambrose had fallen for just a few hours earlier. For a scant moment, uncertain butterflies danced in Ambrose's belly, wondering if Laszlo regretted jumping into bed with a complete stranger. But he didn't allow his nervousness to take hold of him, knowing there was no use in worrying about what might be the case.*

[Laszlo]

A charmingly groggy, but familiar sweet voice sailed across the room, persuading Laszlo to turn his head. The crisp yellow sunlight struck the side of the Ethaefal's unblemished face, which creased in gentle, hazy smile. Crossing eyes with Ambrose brought last night's memories swimming to the surface; of pleasured noises, of hot skin slick with sweat, and two bodies moving in the darkness. The Ethaefal's cheeks grew pink, and he looked away bashfully. The morning sun warmed his bare shoulders.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, his tone a little bored although the inquiry was genuine. The greater question was: what was he going to do with Ambrose now? Laszlo had not exactly expected he'd ever share a bed with anyone, least of all his own likeness. Especially after he'd inwardly acknowledged Victor and Seven as uncommon—if his assumptions were correct.

Did the red rose at the restaurant have anything to do with this? Could it have? This hadn't been some spell, perhaps?

Laszlo rubbed drowsily at the back of his neck as he opened his mouth into a wide yawn. "I'm still me," he mewled before he regained complete control of his tongue and jaw. The bashful, placid smile made a return. "Sleep well?" Laszlo didn't. "I uh… I didn't really expect last night to go the way it had. I've never considered… well." An uncertain hand waved helplessly. "I barely consider women at all, as it is."

Propping up his arm, Laszlo laid his cheek in one hand. "I'm glad for it though. You were… you took the reins. It was what I needed. A pleasant distraction." Trimmed, white-tipped fingernails scraped his scalp through his hair. "Thanks for the company."

[Ambrose Kain]

For just a second, Ambrose flinched, his grit-teeth smile hardening. Of course, it had been just a dalliance. Ambrose had nothing more lasting in mind, and he doubted such a thought had ever occurred to Laszlo, either. Still, it was a little uncouth to say it so plainly, wasn't it? "Of course," he responded with perfect, distant cordiality, and began to lift himself out of bed and reattach his attire. He moved like a cat that had just been sprayed with water--graceful, but with an air of tenseness, his virtual hackles risen on the back of his neck. He was calm by the time he had the last toggle fastened, though. Finally lifting his eyes to Laszlo's face again, he hesitated, then decided to indulge himself just a little. He doubted he'd ever have another chance, anyway. Gliding forward, he reached his hand out and gently touched two fingers to the ethaefal's cheek, then followed the line of his bone structure up to his hairline, then the exotic curl of his horn. It felt smooth and cold, rather like the surface of a window. How odd. Just as quickly, Ambrose drew his hand back, returned to the side of the bed, and knelt towards Laszlo in an elegant bow. "Well. I was going to ask if you'd care to join me for breakfast, but then I recalled that you do not need food, do you? In that case, I suppose I ought to bid you adieu." This felt like such an odd parting. It wasn't that Ambrose was a stranger to casual affairs--anything but. However, usually he was the one issuing the polite dismissal. Well, this was what he got after falling asleep in the stranger's bed. That'd teach him not to slip away in the night as soon as the deed was done.*

[Laszlo]

Laszlo could still feel a whisper of sensation at the base of his right horn, remembering the touch of Ambrose' private examination. The Ethaefal had barely reacted, not minding the human's curiosity. The corner of his blush lips flickered upward in light pleasure to see Ambrose bow, appreciating the inappropriately grandiose gesture. It was still flattering, nonetheless.

"I'm sure I'll see you again, Ambrose. You're staying at this Inn, aren't you?" Laszlo leaned his head in question, then glanced over to the door that led to the hall. A stiff breeze pushed its way into the window, cold enough to raise the hairs on his arms. He shivered, but stayed at the window sill. "My list of allies is short in this city. We can meet up again in the future, perhaps, and share another drink."

His golden stare flickered upward at the poignancy of the thought. "Properly, this time."

[Ambrose Kain]

"Yes." That was true. In fact, it surprised Ambrose that he hadn't knocked elbows with the ethaefal before then, given that he'd been staying at the inn for almost a week now. Perhaps they'd just never chanced to pass by each other. Or, perchance, he'd simply failed to take notice of the handsome man before. Something about his final words caused Ambrose to quirk his lips in a slight frown. What emotion did the suddenly-distant ethaefal intend behind that remark? "Do you regret how last night turned out?" Ambrose replied, forcing lightness into his eyes and smile, though inwardly he was still a bit stung. "How awfully rude of me, interrupting your miserable solitary state. Obviously something was bothering you--no man sits alone in the corner of a bar if something hasn't left him perturbed."*

[Laszlo]

"What?" Laszlo turned away from the window, surprised by both Ambrose' persistence and the note of initial defensiveness in his question. The Ethaefal had missed some social cue, he realized, as he often did. The sex itself may have been familiar and enjoyable, even if it was the first he'd ever known it in this body. As for what followed afterward, Laszlo had little clue. Surely Ambrose didn't think they were together now? Aside from the mildly startling notion that Laszlo himself could even lay with a man, he couldn't fathom a romantic attraction to him or anyone.

As if Laszlo could form such a profound attachment to a creature so earthly.

"Why would I regret it?" He moved away from the window, passing Ambrose and approaching the end of the bed to a large cedar trunk, provided by the Inn for personal storage. Leaning over, he flipped the latch, prying open the heavy lid and revealing a jumbled mess of clothing inside. Whispers of the autumn chill brushed at him as he began to fumble through his things for a new shirt. "I already said it was pleasant. I enjoyed last night, you were wonderful. The interruption was welcome, believe me."

Laszlo pulled a long, black button-down from the chaos and began threading his arms into the sleeves. When he looked back up at Ambrose, he felt the pull of a smile. It was probably the first time in at least a very long while that Laszlo felt so comfortable around another human being. Beyond cordiality, he was familiar with Ambrose. Very familiar.

He couldn't help but find the man more handsome now. "How keen you are," the Ethaefal mumbled, fetching a jacket from the drunk as well before buttoning down his shirt. "I was perturbed. I… still am, but I don't wish to talk about it, if you don't mind. I'd rather not think at all."

[Ambrose Kain]

His back still stiffened, Ambrose's brows drew a hair's breadth closer together as he stared at the perplexing man. How could he sound so dismissive yet smile so openly? Was he aware of what mixed signals he was sending, and therefore intended to leave Ambrose nonplussed? How different he now was from his nighttime persona. Ambrose seriously wondered if he'd even have approached Laszlo, had he always worn his current facade. "You sound as if you intend to get yourself inebriated again, if your only goal is to prevent yourself from thinking," he murmured after a spell, his expression more guarded but his tone light. "Of course, that's your right, but please allow me to impart something from my personal experience--drinking never solves the problem, it only puts it aside for a little while. But it always comes back to haunt you, in the end." Actually, Ambrose was referring more to his father's personal experiences--but he didn't feel the need to clarify that. "Instead," he went on, and taking Laszlo's smile as permission, stepped towards him again and lightly touched the back of his hand. "I would suggest something a bit more distracting and healthy for the body. A long walk, perhaps. This is the city of illusions, after all--there is plenty around to distract a person. Have you visited the House of Broken Mirrors yet? Quite a fascinating place, that." It was, in fact, a harrowing place, and Ambrose had scarcely dared set a few feet inside before a rather frightening apparition had inspired him to turn heel and quickly exit again. Yet he found himself suggesting it now, thinking that perhaps that, if nothing else, might awaken the ethaefal from the stupor he seemed to have awakened in. Perhaps he was always like this in the daytime, but even still, Ambrose had trouble reconciling himself to the belief that the worrisome, self-loathing creature he'd met in the Withering Rose could be completely vanished from within the Laszlo he now faced.*

[Laszlo]

"Fascinating?" Interesting choice of words. Laszlo had heard about the House of Broken Mirrors, and considering the troubled nature of his previous lives and even his recent experiences, he was not eager to see the place. Already deciding to decline Ambrose' offer, Laszlo went about buttoning his shirt, reserving a moment of personal silence as he thought about how to word his reply. "Ambrose, you're kind, but I have no desire to see the House of Broken Mirrors."

What was fascinating, to the ever observant Ethaefal, was that Ambrose had suggested shallow distractions in place of drinking, as if they offered a more permanent solution to "the problem". Laszlo may have been naïve, and a mite socially awkward, but he was not an idiot, and he certainly wasn't blind. In Laszlo's short time in Mizahar, he noticed some people attached a certain stigma to frequent drinking. Even Laszlo himself had adopted it, using it as the reason to start conversation with Seven just the other day. He supposed Ambrose had some personal reason for doing so, but wasn't curious enough to ask about it.

"And… beg your pardon, but what do you know of my problem?" Laszlo looked up from his shirt, at the Zeltivan, adjusting his cuffs as his golden eyes grew harder, almost fierce. "I told you what I was, how I'm imprisoned here in this mound of dirt, trapped in this body that feels pain and hunger and desire, smells every rotten odor, and sees terrible things happen every day. The warmth of Syna's light touches my skin from so far away, and I don't know that I'll ever stand beside her again. Do you know what I've given to her? You can't even begin to fathom what I've lost, azo." The Symenos word for "meat" slipped into his dialogue, a common slur used against non-Symenestra in Kalinor. Laszlo hadn't meant to use it, but as he thought about it, he deemed it quite fitting.

With a frustrated flourish, Laszlo snatched a belt from his trunk and began fastening it to his waist. "I loathe this wretched place and the ugliness that crawls beneath the sky, but that is always my reality. It no longer perturbs me in a way that is worth showing. Did I not tell you that I witnessed a murder? It was the most gruesome, terrifying thing I've ever seen. And the only person I can talk to about it is…"

Insane. Worrying that Seven was present in his Inn room, and that Laszlo's raised voice might be bleeding through the wall, he quieted himself with a defeated sigh. Laszlo swiped a broad portion of his curling hair away from his face. "Look, just… leave me for a while. Please? We can have dinner and talk another time, perhaps. For now I need to be alone. I have business to attend to this morning." He really didn't. "I'll see you another time, Ambrose."

[Ambrose Kain]

Some time during the tirade, Ambrose's eyes had grown quite wide. He'd certainly meant no offense in his offer, and to hear Laszlo's sudden violent reaction nearly floored him. He had the sneaking suspicion Laszlo wasn't angry with him as much as with what Ambrose had reminded him of, but still, it shocked and unnerved him. Rather than feel angered, or even guilty, at first Ambrose could only stare. Barring the moment of climax last night, it was the most impassioned he'd ever seen the ethaefal, and certainly the most in this phase of his being. A murder, huh. Well, that was grisly business, but in the eyes of a god who barely deigned to associate with mortals, he couldn't see why Laszlo would be so affected by it. Carefully swallowing down a lump of uncertainty, he finally tried for a faint smile, but it was a mere shadow of the one he'd worn a few minutes ago--and even that had been shallow. "Of course," he murmured, his voice as soft as a whispering wind. Gods knew he didn't want to risk offending the suddenly vitriolic ethaefal any further. "Yes. I...do apologize for reminding you of the 'filth' of this world." Stiffly, sadly, he bowed in another curtsey, then took himself to the door. Just before stepping through, his hand already resting on the knob, he looked back at Laszlo once more. "Well, I hope you were at least a little pleased with our 'distraction.'" Then he closed his lips in a neutral expression and stepped out.*