[ is it a victory? on paper one can say that, and it's certainly one that's hard-won, but he doesn't feel like that. he's exhausted, physically and otherwise. (he can't call it spiritually because they'd just fought the knights of seiros and he's fairly sure they have been damned, in the archbishop's eyes if they haven't been before already.) there had been offers of drink as some of the men who have doubted their commitment to the cause suddenly view them more favourably, in a good light; even the lance of ruin is now being spoken of with something close to admiration which now sylvain finds uncomfortable and reminding him of his childhood. but he can't forget their faces, and he can't forget the battlefield, and while edelgard certainly shoulders the burden more than anyone else, sylvain is content to laugh and leave.
it's raining heavily and the camp is soaked to the bone with coldness and a fog that never seems to want to leave them. he's freezing. you walk into this battlefield, you spare one lord and kill the other because keeping dimitri alive is more dangerous than keeping claude alive and sylvain feels the long temptation miklan must've felt before his descent in the tower of winds.
there's a blessing to having his armor in black and that's to prevent anything else from being visible on it; blood, or tears. sylvain leaves the festivities without a word, uncharacteristic to him, and slips into his own tent; he removes his armour carefully and with some stiffness. from there he collapses on his cot with a bottle of wine and drinks it from the bottle after uncorking. it's bad. it's a dark red that he can't taste and is guaranteed to give him a headache in the morning. it's not the worst. and it's better than being alone. ]
[it is a victory. of that, felix is certain. whether or not it's one he can live with, well...he's alive, isn't he? he's alive, and the empire was victorious. that's all that matters. well, not quite. but sylvain made it out alive, too, so felix has no regrets.
that's what he tells himself so he can sleep at night, anyway.
he spares no attention for the soldiers who cheer and congratulate him, who act like he's a hero. fickle and pathetic, all of them. literally yesterday he overheard someone whispering that this battle would be where the two kingdom traitors showed their true colors and betrayed edelgard. and now they're being lauded for their 'loyalty' and 'diligent service'? please. felix didn't do this out of loyalty to anyone. he did it because whoever the king was, it wasn't dimitri anymore. hadn't been for a decade. he did it because the thought of taking up his father's title and serving the boar, of acquiescing to blind obedience and deference to the broken society that is - was - faerghus, disgusted him more than he could stand. because allowing people like his father to continue poisoning the world with a belief in ideals and church dogma that do nothing but get people killed senselessly and keep the unworthy in power was unacceptable.
and he did it because sylvain did. he's not sure if he could have actually stepped over that line, had his best friend not done it with him. perhaps it's disgraceful to admit that, and he certainly wouldn't aloud, but he thinks it's true nonetheless.
"you've betrayed just about everyone." ingrid's accusation still rings in his ears. well, she's dead and he survived. now, he supposes, he hasn't betrayed anyone, because they're all dead and beyond caring anymore.
he'll tell himself that to sleep at night, too, he suspects.
regardless of how many imperial toadies want to be his friend tonight, he skips the celebration altogether, staying in his tent to carefully clean and maintain his gear. and his tent is right beside sylvain's, so when he hears the other man return early by his footsteps, felix finds himself rising to his feet and going back out into the rain for a moment so he can barge into sylvain's tent uninvited.]
[ he gets another drink in him before he answers. ]
Drinking.
It's what everyone's doing, isn't it? [ sylvain sighs, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ] What are you doing?
[ not being alone, is likely the answer neither of them want to verbalize. they're both not blind as to how differently they're being treated right now; perhaps only edelgard and hubert understand exactly how difficult this was considering her relationship with dimitri ... well, more edelgard than hubert anyway, but he would understand, too. sylvain gestures at his bare lodgings - ] Go and have a seat, if you want to.
[and sylvain definitely isn't. not being alone is exactly the right answer, but what felix says instead is,]
Making sure I don't have to endure listening to you and some girl in your tent all night.
[he doesn't actually think that's a danger, but falling back on familiar patterns of conversation is so much easier than the alternative.
he moves to sit on the floor near the cot, close enough to reach out a hand and expect sylvain to put the bottle of wine in it.]
I'm not letting you drink that entire bottle yourself. You need to be able to ride tomorrow.
[felix isn't usually one for alcohol; he hates the way it dulls his reactions and muddles his mind. but tonight he thinks he might not mind a little muddling, for once.]
I've no plans with anyone else tonight, not to worry. Your ears are safe.
[ certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done it, if only because there are certain habits that are safe and easy and comforting, even if he's not the type to stay the next day, or ask them to stay. sylvain has needs, perhaps some people would call them faults, but he has them nonetheless.
he hands him the bottle of wine. it's not the best, given the circumstances, but it's what he's got and he's not about to complain when some of their men are literally sleeping in the dirt. gone are the days when he can rely on certain comforts for a lot of things. edelgard's project means that his name, and the presence of his crest, will long fall to unpopularity and obscurity with her might. ]
Thank you for thinking of me. But it wouldn't be the first time. [ he has, however, yet to drag his darling face right thru the mud and for that, he is grateful for his own luck. ] That being said, now that we have their favour, it's time to start looking sharp again, isn't it.
Ever since Felix and Korra first started sparring together, he told her never to go easy on him, and she doesn't. He appreciates that. He wants her to use her bending, because in a real fight, his enemies won't hesitate to do the same. And since she can bend every element, he can train against every element, which is a hell of a plus.
Particularly since he's not a bender at all.
But he has a sword, and that's plenty for him. Since he never had to spend time learning to control any sort of bending powers, he was free to devote all his time to his swordplay, and it shows.
Those aren't the only reasons he likes sparring with Korra, of course. In some ways, they're kindred spirits - both competitive, both better with actions than words, both always ready to defend the innocent. But there's one other reason, one he doesn't like to admit aloud, and that's that she's ridiculously attractive.
...enough of that, he thinks, not wanting to get distracted. He finishes up his stretches and steps into a ready stance, sword poised and waiting. He gives her a smirk.
This isn't the first time that Linhardt has gone to a brothel, nor is it the first time that someone has written to him to let him know about something of interest, although it's the first time Linhardt has combined the two. It's fairly normal for merchants and other people to give gifts to curry favor, but Linhardt has never liked the practice. He never knows when he's supposed to accept the gifts or what's expected of him in return. Like most of politics, it seems to involve a bunch of ridiculous guessing and trying to work around people's stupid emotions.
The only reason he's there is that his love of the interesting and the novel have overwhelmed his disdain for politics. Well. That's not entirely accurate. The Adrestian medic also thinks it's funny to make Hubert fetch him from a whorehouse.
He's definitely not there out of any desire to partake in the wares, despite the offers. His primary interest in said dens of lust is that brothels are the best place to find experienced healers who aren't squeamish and don't raise a fuss when Linhardt tells them to start digging around in chest cavities.
Still, there's entirely too much politicking and ass-kissing, and by the time he's actually escorted to the room with this interesting artifact, Linhardt can't stop his face from falling in disappointment when he enters the room.
"A person?"
What is he going to do with a person?
He doesn't want a person.
People aren't interesting. People are the worst.
He sighs.
"I don't suppose you're holding something, are you?"
This may not be anything like what Felix would have chosen to do with his life, but if he's expected to do a job, he's damn well going to make sure he's the best there is at it. Which is why, despite his surliness and dislike of people in general, he's the most popular companion in the whole place.
They learned early on that he didn't have the social skills to pull off 'charming,' so his appeal for clients is in his cold, demure persona that lets them feel like they're the only ones who can warm him up - it's the easiest way to seduce them without having to talk much. Then again, he's pretty enough that sometimes he barely needs to do anything at all. A single disdainful glance over his shoulder or the simple act of pulling his dark hair loose is often enough.
So when they told him they were just going to give him to some middling Adrestian official's heir, of course he was offended. He argued until they threatened to drag him kicking and screaming if they had to. Eventually, he had no choice but to give in.
He sits now in a velvet armchair, dressed as he does when he's on the clock, hair down aside from a few artful braids along the sides. He's only just barely keeping his fury reined in behind a cool gaze when this noble comes in.
Felix arches a brow and holds up his hands, both of which are of course empty. "Do I look like I'm holding something? What kind of question is that?"
...okay, so he's pretty close to breaking character already and if he ruins this deal with his attitude problem he'll be in big trouble, but come on.
The prostitute has a fair point. It is a stupid question. Given the man's outfit and general presentation as well as basic safety protocols, of course the man isn't holding anything or hiding any objects. If he could do that, he could easily have a weapon.
So Linhardt nods, accepting being called out for his stupidity. In fact, his gaze on Felix is appreciative; Linhardt wants to make good decisions, and he can't do that if people won't tell him if he's being stupid. This man doesn't have that problem.
Which, although nice, isn't particularly interesting.
"Fair point. It was a stupid question."
He holds his chin and looks at Felix closely, examining him. It's different from how clients normally look at him: The Adrestian isn't undressing Felix with his eyes or lingering on areas of erotic interest; he seems more mildly confused than aroused.
An impression that he deepens when he can't figure it out and shakes his head.
"I don't see how you're interesting." Pretty, yes, but most prostitutes were at a certain level. The market dictates that.
So far the most interesting thing about this is the reminder that even his choice in bedmates is something others note and use politically. Why can't he just relax once in a while?
Not that he has since his last attempt ended with his lover trying to stab him afterwards.
"Are you a spy?" No, wait. Phrasing. "Are you trained as a spy?"
That can't be it. They'd give him to Hubert. Although that would be hilarious. The thought makes his lips curl up in a smile.
True, he doesn't know what to do with this.
But at least he's managing better than Hubert would have. Or Caspar.
A second brow joins the first when this man actually agrees that his question was stupid. What kind of Adrestian noble does that? Is it some kind of trick to ingratiate himself to Felix, get him to like him? Please. Felix doesn't like anyone.
Then this starts to make a little more sense, he thinks. Interesting, huh? So the man is after peculiar thrills, is he? If so, he'll be disappointed.
"I'm not interesting." Which is not self-deprecation; as far as he's concerned, it's true, and he says it like it's a mere fact. He's a skilled professional courtesan who trains every day to keep himself in peak physical condition, and that's about it. Anymore, anyway.
He scoffs. "If I were trained as a spy, I wouldn't be here."
Then he pauses. He has questions, but he's not supposed to ask questions. At least, not beyond what do you need and the like. So what he eventually says is an only slightly judgmental, "Are you looking for something in particular?"
"I don't think I need to repeat myself. It speaks for itself." Byleth hands him the bundle of things. The thigh-high stockings adorned with adorable pink paw-pads, the long weighted tail attached to a plug, and the top, if it could really even be called that. It didn't even come down to cover his chest, mostly along his collarbone and down into long, form-fitting sleeves. The bell collar and leash are nothing new, but the headband with the cat ears is.
"Go on. Get dressed down, brat."
He goes to tend to his own gear. Just his usual trousers and boots, a pair of gloves, and the leather harness that crosses over his bare chest.
Felix takes the bundle like it's a pile of dirty laundry, gingerly and with an air of distaste. But he did agree to do this, and he's not one to back out once he commits, so...
It's not long before he's standing in front of Byleth wearing the stockings, the top, and the headband, having taken his hair down, along with a faint flush in his cheeks. The tail and the collar are still in his hands, and he's looking at them with a frown.
He holds up the plug with the tail first. "You expect me to put this in myself, right now?"
"You'll look cute." And lo and behold, he's right. He does look cute. "Oh yes of course I do. There's some lube on the nightstand. I know that you're well versed in prepping yourself."
He says it all very casually as he's doing the clips on his own harness, examining his gloves as if they aren't already pristine.
"I'll put your collar on of course." He strides over, taking the collar and gingerly fastening it around Felix's neck. Snug, but enough that he can easily breathe.
Byleth's deliberate nonchalance, the false implication that he's not putting his full attention on this, makes a certain petty spite rise in him - which is all part of their game, of course. That seed of mutiny grows a little when Byleth takes the collar from him and fastens it, as though Felix couldn't have done it himself. Still, refusing to even prepare for what's to come only defeats the purpose of being here.
His cheeks' flush doesn't subside as he moves to the nightstand to fetch the lube and then kneels on the bed to open himself up enough for the plug. He does it quickly and efficiently, very unlike how Byleth would do it for him, and soon enough he's slicking up the plug as well and carefully putting it in.
With that finished, he wipes the lube from his hands on the bedsheets and returns to stand in front of Byleth. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his face reddens more. He folds his arms and lifts his chin. "Well? Now what?"
The situation in Remire Village is so much worse than any of them could have expected. It's a kind of fighting Felix has never done before today - being forced to hold back to avoid killing innocent people. Felix doesn't hold back, as a general rule. He hates the idea of it. But he has no choice today, and it's...rough.
Rougher still when he ends up with a choice between letting a rabid villager hit him or impaling the man through the gut; things are happening too fast for any other options, and so of course he takes the blow. It slows him down, and as a result it isn't the last injury he sustains.
The battle's been over for a few hours now, though, and the healers have done what they could without the infirmary's resources. He's well enough to eat dinner with the others around the campfire - at least, in his own estimation; Mercedes might have disagreed, if she were here - and if he's a little too quiet, it isn't like anyone can really tell; he rarely speaks up much in large groups anyway. He's kept his cloak wrapped close around him to conceal the bloodstains and bandages.
One by one the others leave the fireside behind to get what sleep they can in their tents, but once Felix is finished eating, he finds he's suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open. He dozes off leaning against the tree where he's been sitting beside Sylvain since the meal began...but by the time everyone else is gone, he's slumped over in his sleep to lean his slumbering weight against Sylvain instead.
Apparently, no amount of nightmares could prepare him for seeing the real thing. Not only had it felt like they were fighting innocent people, villagers, peasants, farmers, but he'd looked up through the acrid smoke at some point to watch as Felix had no choice but to brace for attacks. And he'd been too far away to intercept them, too far away to have even helped if Felix had gone down.
He'd been uncharacteristically quiet and subdued as they sat around after the battle had been won... or whatever they were calling what they'd done. Felix seemed alright, he'd hovered around close by as he'd been patched up and he'd eaten a bit but Sylvain was still keeping a watchful eye on him even as his thoughts ran a mile a minute on what he'd done wrong, what he should have done, what he'd do in their next battle. He could follow orders and stick closer to Felix at the same time, couldn't he? He'd have to.
If people had said goodnight to him before making their way away from the fire, he hadn't noticed. He blinked out of his thoughts and honestly found himself wondering when everyone had left. Or when his arm had wrapped protectively around Felix's shoulders to pull him closer.
His heart does some strange little flutters in his chest as he looks over at Felix and he had to swallow hard to push the odd feelings away. Moving as slowly and carefully as he can, does his best to pull Felix closer as he scoops his other arm under Felix's knees so he can lift him up and carry him back to his tent. His side aches dully, reminding him of his own bruises and the irritated burned skin on his arm rub uncomfortably against Felix's pant leg but none of it matters. He just wants to make sure Felix makes it into his bedroll so he can get a good rest.
Felix calls it a victory, regardless of how difficult or fraught it was. They did what they had to to ensure the survival of as many villagers as possible; better a concussion than having killed their own neighbors.
He doesn't wake when Sylvain lifts him, only stirs a little, unthinkingly curling in close against Sylvain's chest. His brow furrows as his injuries are jostled gently, but the pain isn't enough to jar him into consciousness.
When Sylvain puts him down, his eyes crack open, eyelids still heavy and not even quite half-awake. Before Sylvain can stand up again and leave his side, Felix's hand escapes the blankets and his cloak to latch somewhat weakly onto Sylvain's arm.
"Nn. Stay here," he murmurs, even as his eyes close again.
He cringes a little as he sets Felix down, feeling him stir in his arms as he lays him onto his bedroll. As he exhales, he sighs a soft apology without even meaning to but before he can dwell on that, Felix's fingers are grasping lightly at his arm and all he can do for a moment is just stare down at him as his chest tightens.
Finally, he realizes he hasn't responded yet and nods, probably a little too eagerly, but Felix's eyes are already closed, "Okay."
His response ends up soft and quiet.
Moving slowly, he settles on the edge of Felix's bedroll so he can slowly shrug off his jacket before turning back to Felix.
"How are you feeling? Nothing too sore, right? No sharp pains?" He reaches out to put his hand on Felix's forehead. He knows Felix. And he knows he could easily be hiding injuries that are far worse than he's letting on. The one thing he wouldn't be able to hide is the potential fever developing from those injuries.
"M'fine," Felix mumbles, pulling his cloak closer around himself now that Sylvain's sitting down. Sylvain won't leave him. Right? Sylvain's the only one who never leaves him. "Just...tired. Need sleep."
He tries halfheartedly to push Sylvain's hand away from his head, but not quickly or effectively enough to stop Sylvain from confirming his suspicions; Felix's skin is much too hot to the touch.
Sylvain's gaze lingers on Felix's face, his closed eyes, just watching him inhale and exhale for a moment. He doesn't believe he's fine, but he also doesn't appear to be on the verge of death. It's a compromise, he guesses.
He won't call a healer, but he does toe at their supplies, eyes lighting up when he spots a water canteen. That'd work for now. Shifting a little, he snags a clean cloth. It looks like it'd been packed for armor and weapon maintenance but hadn't been used yet. He pours dampens it and settles in beside Felix, sitting with his back against the wall so Felix can use his legs as a pillow and guides him closer, delicately dabbing his forehead with the cool cloth.
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branchandroot
PSL - CF Felix & Sylvain
Date: 2021-06-02 12:24 am (UTC)post-arianrhod
Date: 2021-06-02 01:39 am (UTC)it's raining heavily and the camp is soaked to the bone with coldness and a fog that never seems to want to leave them. he's freezing. you walk into this battlefield, you spare one lord and kill the other because keeping dimitri alive is more dangerous than keeping claude alive and sylvain feels the long temptation miklan must've felt before his descent in the tower of winds.
there's a blessing to having his armor in black and that's to prevent anything else from being visible on it; blood, or tears. sylvain leaves the festivities without a word, uncharacteristic to him, and slips into his own tent; he removes his armour carefully and with some stiffness. from there he collapses on his cot with a bottle of wine and drinks it from the bottle after uncorking. it's bad. it's a dark red that he can't taste and is guaranteed to give him a headache in the morning. it's not the worst. and it's better than being alone. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-02 03:12 am (UTC)that's what he tells himself so he can sleep at night, anyway.
he spares no attention for the soldiers who cheer and congratulate him, who act like he's a hero. fickle and pathetic, all of them. literally yesterday he overheard someone whispering that this battle would be where the two kingdom traitors showed their true colors and betrayed edelgard. and now they're being lauded for their 'loyalty' and 'diligent service'? please. felix didn't do this out of loyalty to anyone. he did it because whoever the king was, it wasn't dimitri anymore. hadn't been for a decade. he did it because the thought of taking up his father's title and serving the boar, of acquiescing to blind obedience and deference to the broken society that is - was - faerghus, disgusted him more than he could stand. because allowing people like his father to continue poisoning the world with a belief in ideals and church dogma that do nothing but get people killed senselessly and keep the unworthy in power was unacceptable.
and he did it because sylvain did. he's not sure if he could have actually stepped over that line, had his best friend not done it with him. perhaps it's disgraceful to admit that, and he certainly wouldn't aloud, but he thinks it's true nonetheless.
"you've betrayed just about everyone." ingrid's accusation still rings in his ears. well, she's dead and he survived. now, he supposes, he hasn't betrayed anyone, because they're all dead and beyond caring anymore.
he'll tell himself that to sleep at night, too, he suspects.
regardless of how many imperial toadies want to be his friend tonight, he skips the celebration altogether, staying in his tent to carefully clean and maintain his gear. and his tent is right beside sylvain's, so when he hears the other man return early by his footsteps, felix finds himself rising to his feet and going back out into the rain for a moment so he can barge into sylvain's tent uninvited.]
What are you doing?
no subject
Date: 2021-06-04 10:21 pm (UTC)Drinking.
It's what everyone's doing, isn't it? [ sylvain sighs, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ] What are you doing?
[ not being alone, is likely the answer neither of them want to verbalize. they're both not blind as to how differently they're being treated right now; perhaps only edelgard and hubert understand exactly how difficult this was considering her relationship with dimitri ... well, more edelgard than hubert anyway, but he would understand, too. sylvain gestures at his bare lodgings - ] Go and have a seat, if you want to.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-05 06:54 am (UTC)Everyone else is drinking to celebrate.
[and sylvain definitely isn't. not being alone is exactly the right answer, but what felix says instead is,]
Making sure I don't have to endure listening to you and some girl in your tent all night.
[he doesn't actually think that's a danger, but falling back on familiar patterns of conversation is so much easier than the alternative.
he moves to sit on the floor near the cot, close enough to reach out a hand and expect sylvain to put the bottle of wine in it.]
I'm not letting you drink that entire bottle yourself. You need to be able to ride tomorrow.
[felix isn't usually one for alcohol; he hates the way it dulls his reactions and muddles his mind. but tonight he thinks he might not mind a little muddling, for once.]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-05 01:13 pm (UTC)[ certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done it, if only because there are certain habits that are safe and easy and comforting, even if he's not the type to stay the next day, or ask them to stay. sylvain has needs, perhaps some people would call them faults, but he has them nonetheless.
he hands him the bottle of wine. it's not the best, given the circumstances, but it's what he's got and he's not about to complain when some of their men are literally sleeping in the dirt. gone are the days when he can rely on certain comforts for a lot of things. edelgard's project means that his name, and the presence of his crest, will long fall to unpopularity and obscurity with her might. ]
Thank you for thinking of me. But it wouldn't be the first time. [ he has, however, yet to drag his darling face right thru the mud and for that, he is grateful for his own luck. ] That being said, now that we have their favour, it's time to start looking sharp again, isn't it.
[ and what a pain that was. ]
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From:**NSFW** PSL - ATLA AU Felix & Korra
Date: 2021-06-18 04:58 am (UTC)Particularly since he's not a bender at all.
But he has a sword, and that's plenty for him. Since he never had to spend time learning to control any sort of bending powers, he was free to devote all his time to his swordplay, and it shows.
Those aren't the only reasons he likes sparring with Korra, of course. In some ways, they're kindred spirits - both competitive, both better with actions than words, both always ready to defend the innocent. But there's one other reason, one he doesn't like to admit aloud, and that's that she's ridiculously attractive.
...enough of that, he thinks, not wanting to get distracted. He finishes up his stretches and steps into a ready stance, sword poised and waiting. He gives her a smirk.
"Are you ready?"
PSL - Felix & Linhardt
Date: 2021-09-02 12:21 am (UTC)Adrestian House of Pleasure AU (possible nsfw)
Date: 2021-09-02 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-02 01:21 am (UTC)The only reason he's there is that his love of the interesting and the novel have overwhelmed his disdain for politics. Well. That's not entirely accurate. The Adrestian medic also thinks it's funny to make Hubert fetch him from a whorehouse.
He's definitely not there out of any desire to partake in the wares, despite the offers. His primary interest in said dens of lust is that brothels are the best place to find experienced healers who aren't squeamish and don't raise a fuss when Linhardt tells them to start digging around in chest cavities.
Still, there's entirely too much politicking and ass-kissing, and by the time he's actually escorted to the room with this interesting artifact, Linhardt can't stop his face from falling in disappointment when he enters the room.
"A person?"
What is he going to do with a person?
He doesn't want a person.
People aren't interesting. People are the worst.
He sighs.
"I don't suppose you're holding something, are you?"
no subject
Date: 2021-09-02 02:26 am (UTC)They learned early on that he didn't have the social skills to pull off 'charming,' so his appeal for clients is in his cold, demure persona that lets them feel like they're the only ones who can warm him up - it's the easiest way to seduce them without having to talk much. Then again, he's pretty enough that sometimes he barely needs to do anything at all. A single disdainful glance over his shoulder or the simple act of pulling his dark hair loose is often enough.
So when they told him they were just going to give him to some middling Adrestian official's heir, of course he was offended. He argued until they threatened to drag him kicking and screaming if they had to. Eventually, he had no choice but to give in.
He sits now in a velvet armchair, dressed as he does when he's on the clock, hair down aside from a few artful braids along the sides. He's only just barely keeping his fury reined in behind a cool gaze when this noble comes in.
Felix arches a brow and holds up his hands, both of which are of course empty. "Do I look like I'm holding something? What kind of question is that?"
...okay, so he's pretty close to breaking character already and if he ruins this deal with his attitude problem he'll be in big trouble, but come on.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-02 02:37 pm (UTC)So Linhardt nods, accepting being called out for his stupidity. In fact, his gaze on Felix is appreciative; Linhardt wants to make good decisions, and he can't do that if people won't tell him if he's being stupid. This man doesn't have that problem.
Which, although nice, isn't particularly interesting.
"Fair point. It was a stupid question."
He holds his chin and looks at Felix closely, examining him. It's different from how clients normally look at him: The Adrestian isn't undressing Felix with his eyes or lingering on areas of erotic interest; he seems more mildly confused than aroused.
An impression that he deepens when he can't figure it out and shakes his head.
"I don't see how you're interesting." Pretty, yes, but most prostitutes were at a certain level. The market dictates that.
So far the most interesting thing about this is the reminder that even his choice in bedmates is something others note and use politically. Why can't he just relax once in a while?
Not that he has since his last attempt ended with his lover trying to stab him afterwards.
"Are you a spy?" No, wait. Phrasing. "Are you trained as a spy?"
That can't be it. They'd give him to Hubert. Although that would be hilarious. The thought makes his lips curl up in a smile.
True, he doesn't know what to do with this.
But at least he's managing better than Hubert would have. Or Caspar.
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Date: 2021-09-02 08:55 pm (UTC)Then this starts to make a little more sense, he thinks. Interesting, huh? So the man is after peculiar thrills, is he? If so, he'll be disappointed.
"I'm not interesting." Which is not self-deprecation; as far as he's concerned, it's true, and he says it like it's a mere fact. He's a skilled professional courtesan who trains every day to keep himself in peak physical condition, and that's about it. Anymore, anyway.
He scoffs. "If I were trained as a spy, I wouldn't be here."
Then he pauses. He has questions, but he's not supposed to ask questions. At least, not beyond what do you need and the like. So what he eventually says is an only slightly judgmental, "Are you looking for something in particular?"
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From:sorry for the delay!!
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From:Sorry it's been a week; my boss quit and now we're short by two people yay
From:oh oof -_- no worries!
From:Everything's on fire and I'm the only one with tech skills but this is fine
From:wagh, good luck!
From:Right? RIP me
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From:PSL - Felix & Byleth (NSFW)
Date: 2022-01-01 10:46 am (UTC)feel free to decide w/e details u want!
Date: 2022-01-01 09:57 pm (UTC)Which is how he ended up here, standing naked with his arms folded and giving Byleth a skeptical look.
"You want me to wear what?"
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Date: 2022-01-02 09:13 am (UTC)"Go on. Get dressed down, brat."
He goes to tend to his own gear. Just his usual trousers and boots, a pair of gloves, and the leather harness that crosses over his bare chest.
"Hurry. I don't have all day."
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Date: 2022-01-02 09:32 am (UTC)Felix takes the bundle like it's a pile of dirty laundry, gingerly and with an air of distaste. But he did agree to do this, and he's not one to back out once he commits, so...
It's not long before he's standing in front of Byleth wearing the stockings, the top, and the headband, having taken his hair down, along with a faint flush in his cheeks. The tail and the collar are still in his hands, and he's looking at them with a frown.
He holds up the plug with the tail first. "You expect me to put this in myself, right now?"
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Date: 2022-01-02 11:54 pm (UTC)He says it all very casually as he's doing the clips on his own harness, examining his gloves as if they aren't already pristine.
"I'll put your collar on of course." He strides over, taking the collar and gingerly fastening it around Felix's neck. Snug, but enough that he can easily breathe.
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Date: 2022-01-03 12:19 am (UTC)Byleth's deliberate nonchalance, the false implication that he's not putting his full attention on this, makes a certain petty spite rise in him - which is all part of their game, of course. That seed of mutiny grows a little when Byleth takes the collar from him and fastens it, as though Felix couldn't have done it himself. Still, refusing to even prepare for what's to come only defeats the purpose of being here.
His cheeks' flush doesn't subside as he moves to the nightstand to fetch the lube and then kneels on the bed to open himself up enough for the plug. He does it quickly and efficiently, very unlike how Byleth would do it for him, and soon enough he's slicking up the plug as well and carefully putting it in.
With that finished, he wipes the lube from his hands on the bedsheets and returns to stand in front of Byleth. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his face reddens more. He folds his arms and lifts his chin. "Well? Now what?"
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From:Felix you little shit lkdsfjg
From:OH BUDDY
From:rip felix lmao
From:Re: rip felix lmao
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From:PSL - Academy Felix & Sylvain
Date: 2022-03-07 06:45 am (UTC)The situation in Remire Village is so much worse than any of them could have expected. It's a kind of fighting Felix has never done before today - being forced to hold back to avoid killing innocent people. Felix doesn't hold back, as a general rule. He hates the idea of it. But he has no choice today, and it's...rough.
Rougher still when he ends up with a choice between letting a rabid villager hit him or impaling the man through the gut; things are happening too fast for any other options, and so of course he takes the blow. It slows him down, and as a result it isn't the last injury he sustains.
The battle's been over for a few hours now, though, and the healers have done what they could without the infirmary's resources. He's well enough to eat dinner with the others around the campfire - at least, in his own estimation; Mercedes might have disagreed, if she were here - and if he's a little too quiet, it isn't like anyone can really tell; he rarely speaks up much in large groups anyway. He's kept his cloak wrapped close around him to conceal the bloodstains and bandages.
One by one the others leave the fireside behind to get what sleep they can in their tents, but once Felix is finished eating, he finds he's suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open. He dozes off leaning against the tree where he's been sitting beside Sylvain since the meal began...but by the time everyone else is gone, he's slumped over in his sleep to lean his slumbering weight against Sylvain instead.
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Date: 2022-03-11 05:57 am (UTC)He'd been uncharacteristically quiet and subdued as they sat around after the battle had been won... or whatever they were calling what they'd done. Felix seemed alright, he'd hovered around close by as he'd been patched up and he'd eaten a bit but Sylvain was still keeping a watchful eye on him even as his thoughts ran a mile a minute on what he'd done wrong, what he should have done, what he'd do in their next battle. He could follow orders and stick closer to Felix at the same time, couldn't he? He'd have to.
If people had said goodnight to him before making their way away from the fire, he hadn't noticed. He blinked out of his thoughts and honestly found himself wondering when everyone had left. Or when his arm had wrapped protectively around Felix's shoulders to pull him closer.
His heart does some strange little flutters in his chest as he looks over at Felix and he had to swallow hard to push the odd feelings away. Moving as slowly and carefully as he can, does his best to pull Felix closer as he scoops his other arm under Felix's knees so he can lift him up and carry him back to his tent. His side aches dully, reminding him of his own bruises and the irritated burned skin on his arm rub uncomfortably against Felix's pant leg but none of it matters. He just wants to make sure Felix makes it into his bedroll so he can get a good rest.
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Date: 2022-03-13 11:41 pm (UTC)He doesn't wake when Sylvain lifts him, only stirs a little, unthinkingly curling in close against Sylvain's chest. His brow furrows as his injuries are jostled gently, but the pain isn't enough to jar him into consciousness.
When Sylvain puts him down, his eyes crack open, eyelids still heavy and not even quite half-awake. Before Sylvain can stand up again and leave his side, Felix's hand escapes the blankets and his cloak to latch somewhat weakly onto Sylvain's arm.
"Nn. Stay here," he murmurs, even as his eyes close again.
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Date: 2022-03-29 07:18 am (UTC)Finally, he realizes he hasn't responded yet and nods, probably a little too eagerly, but Felix's eyes are already closed, "Okay."
His response ends up soft and quiet.
Moving slowly, he settles on the edge of Felix's bedroll so he can slowly shrug off his jacket before turning back to Felix.
"How are you feeling? Nothing too sore, right? No sharp pains?" He reaches out to put his hand on Felix's forehead. He knows Felix. And he knows he could easily be hiding injuries that are far worse than he's letting on. The one thing he wouldn't be able to hide is the potential fever developing from those injuries.
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Date: 2022-04-04 03:17 am (UTC)He tries halfheartedly to push Sylvain's hand away from his head, but not quickly or effectively enough to stop Sylvain from confirming his suspicions; Felix's skin is much too hot to the touch.
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Date: 2022-04-19 05:43 am (UTC)He won't call a healer, but he does toe at their supplies, eyes lighting up when he spots a water canteen. That'd work for now. Shifting a little, he snags a clean cloth. It looks like it'd been packed for armor and weapon maintenance but hadn't been used yet. He pours dampens it and settles in beside Felix, sitting with his back against the wall so Felix can use his legs as a pillow and guides him closer, delicately dabbing his forehead with the cool cloth.
"Sleep. I've got you, Fe."