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yrae
Title~ Wordsmith
Authors~![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
annarti and creatore_magico
Disclaimer~ Florien is Saku's, Kurae and the rest of Raykin are mine
Notes~ Quite some time after SH reaches its conclusion, Kurae gets sick of how Florien treats his brother. So he goes to fight him. With words. This can only end well.
~ ~ ~
The afternoon was pleasantly cool as Kurae walked home from his day of training. He’d washed and changed into clean, casual clothes at the palace, though experience told him it was easier to wear his heavy army boots home rather than carry them. His uniform was stuffed into a canvas bag he hung over his shoulder. He held his sword by its sheath in his other hand.
It was earlier than he usually finished his training for the day, but he had business to attend to before he got home.
Kurae didn’t even pause as he pushed open the door to the Vintage Harvest, though the restaurant wouldn’t start accepting guests for another two or three hours yet. He could hear the sounds of preparation through the kitchen door, the clattering of metal pots and clack of knives against wood as the kitchen staff chopped vegetables. He couldn’t hear Sebastian’s clear, Llayan accent; the head chef would be at the fish markets.
But it wasn’t Sebastian who Kurae was here for this afternoon. He passed by his regular table and in through the kitchen door, looking as discreet as he could as he strode to the staircase at the back of the room.
‘Afternoon,’ the sous-chef said to him, her voice distracted.
Kurae returned her greeting with a wave of his sword, glad he was such a regular at the restaurant these days that the staff paid him no mind. Nevertheless, he was glad to disappear up the stairs.
Only halfway up did he hesitate. He was no wordsmith. He never claimed to be a leader. The Llayan would probably run rings around him, but Kurae was sick of being polite to him. He took a breath and stared at the steps as he steeled himself, then pushed on up the stairs to the Llayans’ quarters.
When he entered he was greeted with a look reserved only for Sebastian. It was tired, weak and nothing like the sharp looks he often gave Kurae and strangers alike. The instant the crippled man saw that it was not his brother entering his space he stiffened, and his eyes narrowed.
“Sebastian is not here, swordsman,” He rolled his eyes and turned away from the intruder as if he were stupid. “I thought you knew his schedule well enough by now, you spend so much time disrupting it after all.”
‘You’re the one I’m here to see,’ Kurae answered. He slid the bag from his shoulder and set it on the floor by the wall, but he held onto his sword. He needed something familiar in his hands, even if his battle this time wasn’t with steel.
He pointed the shark-tailed pommel at Sebastian’s brother and spoke very clearly. ‘Sweep the Aeia-damned desert with your petty backstabbing.’
Florien tilted his head to one side curiously and furrowed his brow.
“Excuse me?” He asked, shaping his Raykinian words carefully.
‘You heard.’ Kurae lowered his sword, resting the tip of its sheath on the floor. All the phrases he’d been rehearsing on the way over had faded from his mind. He waited a moment, thumbing over the familiar pommel until one of them returned. ‘I’m sick of pretending to be polite to you when you can’t be bothered to do the same for me.’
“Then stop pretending. It’s of no concern to Florien.” He answered simply. His apparent lack of concern was potent in his eyes. “Is that all you wanted?”
Kurae’s eyes narrowed at he found his anger. ‘I want you,’ he said, lifting his sword by the sheath and pointing the hilt once more at the Llayan. ‘I want you to stop being such a petty, guilt-tripping, clingy, backstabbing little cripple and let Sebastian have a life.’ He’d already said petty, and backstabbing, but he couldn’t think of any other words for the moment. Besides, that’s what Florien was to him. He felt the words bore repeating.
“Stay your sword ruffian. Or is the land of Raykin so unjust that an Own Rider may threaten a cripple over a personal matter?”
Kurae slowly shook his head and lowered his sword, but he was far from comfortable enough to put it down. ‘I’m not threatening anything,’ he growled. ‘I’m telling you to stop being a bitch to your brother.’
Florien paused, watching the man with scrutiny for a moment which seemed all too long. His small chest rose and fell with the delicate sound of his breathing accompanying it.
“You are telling me?” He questioned softly, his thin lips tightening. “And who are you to me swordsman? What it is which makes you believe you can tell Florien how to behave toward his own brother? With a sword in your hand, which incidentally makes what you have said a threat despite your ill worded stipulation, you order me to change something you have no right to meddle with? Forgive me if I politely decline your ‘offer’ and bid you leave my home sooner rather than later.”
Kurae wished his battle were with his sword. He chose to ignore Florien’s words rather than respond to them. ‘You’re in my kingdom,’ he snapped, ‘and, like it or not, you’re in my life. All I’m looking for is a little respect. For Seb,’ he clarified. ‘I couldn’t care less what you think of the Own. But you… you’re so selfish you think you’re the only one in Seb’s life. You treat him like your personal staff… your slave, even. Does it make you feel stronger? Florien rings and Seb follows.’
Florien’s eyes narrowed and he turned weakly in his chair, straightening his back.
“Strength is for those of your ilk, swordsman, clearly, not of mine. However, if you honestly wish to voice your opinion on what goes on between my brother and I, then that is fine. I will do the same and tell you just how I feel about your involvement with Sebastian.” The sickly man took a breath, but it was not long enough a pause to give the Own Rider any chance to stop Florien’s tongue.
“You disgust me. You are an oaf and a brute that will never, ever deserve my brother; no matter how many honours are placed upon your name. You distract him, you misguide him, and I don’t need to add that you can’t even say his name correctly.
No. Swordsman, you are right. There is no point in pleasantries. It is refreshing at least that you see that and understand that if you have indeed chosen to have Sebastian in your life, then you have also chosen to deal with Florien, of your own infliction.
I would be happy to remain the only one in Sebastian’s life. If you insist on forcing your way into it as well then be prepared Kurae, to deal with me. ”
It was the first time Florien had referred to Kurae by his name. There was enough spite in it to choke the sun.
Kurae had been listening patiently to the Llayan’s insults. They were certainly better thought out than those he was used to from drunkards at the pub or challengers losing in the palace courtyard, but Kurae’s skin was thick enough that they cut no deeper. He folded his arms at the last, awkward with his sword still in one hand, and gave a tired sigh.
‘I don’t care what you think of me,’ he said again. ‘I care what you think of your brother.’
“I love him.” Florien answered simply and honestly.
Kurae nodded, having expected something far more verbose from the Llayan. ‘Start acting like it,’ he said, his voice dark. ‘Like it or not, I have influence. I know people who can make your life much worse, and I know people who can make it a whole lot better. I’ll give you until the next new moon until I start introducing you to them.’
“So you are threatening me?” The Llayan sighed. “I do you wish you have gotten to this point sooner.”
Kurae shrugged. ‘Up to you,’ he answered. He could only hope that Florien’s bitterness was just a mask, but somehow he didn’t expect any of his words had even been heard, let alone sunk in. He bent to pick up his clothes bag. ‘Just think on it, right?’ he said, hooking his bag over his shoulder and turning one last, threatening look on the Llayan.
“Your ultimatum is not accepted swordsman.” Florien gave a bitter smile. “Do anything to me, and Sebastian will never forgive you. Nor will the goddesses or your own conscience. You can justify your actions I am sure, thinking you are saving Sebastian from some sort of prison of which I am the master. How wrong you would be then. You’ll soon discover the only one keeping that man is himself. Do wrong by me and whatever love he has for you will become a lie so thick it chokes you.”
Kurae frowned back at him in incomprehension. He’d been ready to leave the pathetic man behind, but he couldn’t leave now.
‘You’ve brainwashed him,’ he realised.
“He’s my brother.” The Llayan snapped. “We’ve been together his whole life. I don’t hurt him because I want to. I love him. I need him more than an oaf like you could possibly understand!”
The thin man’s harsh reply caused him to begin coughing and spluttering. His chest heaved, and he covered his mouth as he struggled to regain breath. The sickness in him was all over his skin, seeping out in beads of sweat.
“Get out of my home!” He wheezed, leaning forward in his chair like some sort of misshapen creature.
Kurae set one hand loosely on his hip, suddenly recognising the strained voice of a losing man. It wasn’t the argument Florien was losing, though.
‘You’ve brainwashed him,’ Kurae repeated, more sure of himself. ‘I won’t have to say a word, because sooner or later he’ll figure it out all on his own.’ He hitched his bag more securely on his shoulder. ‘Then who will he want to be with? The brother who’s been a clingy, needy prick to him his whole life, or the brother who realised what a prick he was and found it in himself to change?’
Florien did not stop struggling for breath as he pulled himself forward. He had a rag to splutter into, and it speckled with blood as he did so.
“Get, out…” He sobbed, clutching his chest with his free hand. “Get out!”
Kurae nodded to himself. He’d said all he could. ‘Think on it,’ he said again, then made for the stairs, descending two at a time as he neared their foot.
He raked his fingers back through his hair and scratched the back of his head as he strode back through the kitchens and out into the sunlight. He rolled his shoulders, but didn’t feel the stiffness lifting from them. His conversation with Florien wasn’t the last of it, he knew, but he hoped at least it was a start. Kurae himself had changed for Sebastian; he could only hope Florien might, too.
Authors~
annarti and creatore_magicoDisclaimer~ Florien is Saku's, Kurae and the rest of Raykin are mine
Notes~ Quite some time after SH reaches its conclusion, Kurae gets sick of how Florien treats his brother. So he goes to fight him. With words. This can only end well.
The afternoon was pleasantly cool as Kurae walked home from his day of training. He’d washed and changed into clean, casual clothes at the palace, though experience told him it was easier to wear his heavy army boots home rather than carry them. His uniform was stuffed into a canvas bag he hung over his shoulder. He held his sword by its sheath in his other hand.
It was earlier than he usually finished his training for the day, but he had business to attend to before he got home.
Kurae didn’t even pause as he pushed open the door to the Vintage Harvest, though the restaurant wouldn’t start accepting guests for another two or three hours yet. He could hear the sounds of preparation through the kitchen door, the clattering of metal pots and clack of knives against wood as the kitchen staff chopped vegetables. He couldn’t hear Sebastian’s clear, Llayan accent; the head chef would be at the fish markets.
But it wasn’t Sebastian who Kurae was here for this afternoon. He passed by his regular table and in through the kitchen door, looking as discreet as he could as he strode to the staircase at the back of the room.
‘Afternoon,’ the sous-chef said to him, her voice distracted.
Kurae returned her greeting with a wave of his sword, glad he was such a regular at the restaurant these days that the staff paid him no mind. Nevertheless, he was glad to disappear up the stairs.
Only halfway up did he hesitate. He was no wordsmith. He never claimed to be a leader. The Llayan would probably run rings around him, but Kurae was sick of being polite to him. He took a breath and stared at the steps as he steeled himself, then pushed on up the stairs to the Llayans’ quarters.
When he entered he was greeted with a look reserved only for Sebastian. It was tired, weak and nothing like the sharp looks he often gave Kurae and strangers alike. The instant the crippled man saw that it was not his brother entering his space he stiffened, and his eyes narrowed.
“Sebastian is not here, swordsman,” He rolled his eyes and turned away from the intruder as if he were stupid. “I thought you knew his schedule well enough by now, you spend so much time disrupting it after all.”
‘You’re the one I’m here to see,’ Kurae answered. He slid the bag from his shoulder and set it on the floor by the wall, but he held onto his sword. He needed something familiar in his hands, even if his battle this time wasn’t with steel.
He pointed the shark-tailed pommel at Sebastian’s brother and spoke very clearly. ‘Sweep the Aeia-damned desert with your petty backstabbing.’
Florien tilted his head to one side curiously and furrowed his brow.
“Excuse me?” He asked, shaping his Raykinian words carefully.
‘You heard.’ Kurae lowered his sword, resting the tip of its sheath on the floor. All the phrases he’d been rehearsing on the way over had faded from his mind. He waited a moment, thumbing over the familiar pommel until one of them returned. ‘I’m sick of pretending to be polite to you when you can’t be bothered to do the same for me.’
“Then stop pretending. It’s of no concern to Florien.” He answered simply. His apparent lack of concern was potent in his eyes. “Is that all you wanted?”
Kurae’s eyes narrowed at he found his anger. ‘I want you,’ he said, lifting his sword by the sheath and pointing the hilt once more at the Llayan. ‘I want you to stop being such a petty, guilt-tripping, clingy, backstabbing little cripple and let Sebastian have a life.’ He’d already said petty, and backstabbing, but he couldn’t think of any other words for the moment. Besides, that’s what Florien was to him. He felt the words bore repeating.
“Stay your sword ruffian. Or is the land of Raykin so unjust that an Own Rider may threaten a cripple over a personal matter?”
Kurae slowly shook his head and lowered his sword, but he was far from comfortable enough to put it down. ‘I’m not threatening anything,’ he growled. ‘I’m telling you to stop being a bitch to your brother.’
Florien paused, watching the man with scrutiny for a moment which seemed all too long. His small chest rose and fell with the delicate sound of his breathing accompanying it.
“You are telling me?” He questioned softly, his thin lips tightening. “And who are you to me swordsman? What it is which makes you believe you can tell Florien how to behave toward his own brother? With a sword in your hand, which incidentally makes what you have said a threat despite your ill worded stipulation, you order me to change something you have no right to meddle with? Forgive me if I politely decline your ‘offer’ and bid you leave my home sooner rather than later.”
Kurae wished his battle were with his sword. He chose to ignore Florien’s words rather than respond to them. ‘You’re in my kingdom,’ he snapped, ‘and, like it or not, you’re in my life. All I’m looking for is a little respect. For Seb,’ he clarified. ‘I couldn’t care less what you think of the Own. But you… you’re so selfish you think you’re the only one in Seb’s life. You treat him like your personal staff… your slave, even. Does it make you feel stronger? Florien rings and Seb follows.’
Florien’s eyes narrowed and he turned weakly in his chair, straightening his back.
“Strength is for those of your ilk, swordsman, clearly, not of mine. However, if you honestly wish to voice your opinion on what goes on between my brother and I, then that is fine. I will do the same and tell you just how I feel about your involvement with Sebastian.” The sickly man took a breath, but it was not long enough a pause to give the Own Rider any chance to stop Florien’s tongue.
“You disgust me. You are an oaf and a brute that will never, ever deserve my brother; no matter how many honours are placed upon your name. You distract him, you misguide him, and I don’t need to add that you can’t even say his name correctly.
No. Swordsman, you are right. There is no point in pleasantries. It is refreshing at least that you see that and understand that if you have indeed chosen to have Sebastian in your life, then you have also chosen to deal with Florien, of your own infliction.
I would be happy to remain the only one in Sebastian’s life. If you insist on forcing your way into it as well then be prepared Kurae, to deal with me. ”
It was the first time Florien had referred to Kurae by his name. There was enough spite in it to choke the sun.
Kurae had been listening patiently to the Llayan’s insults. They were certainly better thought out than those he was used to from drunkards at the pub or challengers losing in the palace courtyard, but Kurae’s skin was thick enough that they cut no deeper. He folded his arms at the last, awkward with his sword still in one hand, and gave a tired sigh.
‘I don’t care what you think of me,’ he said again. ‘I care what you think of your brother.’
“I love him.” Florien answered simply and honestly.
Kurae nodded, having expected something far more verbose from the Llayan. ‘Start acting like it,’ he said, his voice dark. ‘Like it or not, I have influence. I know people who can make your life much worse, and I know people who can make it a whole lot better. I’ll give you until the next new moon until I start introducing you to them.’
“So you are threatening me?” The Llayan sighed. “I do you wish you have gotten to this point sooner.”
Kurae shrugged. ‘Up to you,’ he answered. He could only hope that Florien’s bitterness was just a mask, but somehow he didn’t expect any of his words had even been heard, let alone sunk in. He bent to pick up his clothes bag. ‘Just think on it, right?’ he said, hooking his bag over his shoulder and turning one last, threatening look on the Llayan.
“Your ultimatum is not accepted swordsman.” Florien gave a bitter smile. “Do anything to me, and Sebastian will never forgive you. Nor will the goddesses or your own conscience. You can justify your actions I am sure, thinking you are saving Sebastian from some sort of prison of which I am the master. How wrong you would be then. You’ll soon discover the only one keeping that man is himself. Do wrong by me and whatever love he has for you will become a lie so thick it chokes you.”
Kurae frowned back at him in incomprehension. He’d been ready to leave the pathetic man behind, but he couldn’t leave now.
‘You’ve brainwashed him,’ he realised.
“He’s my brother.” The Llayan snapped. “We’ve been together his whole life. I don’t hurt him because I want to. I love him. I need him more than an oaf like you could possibly understand!”
The thin man’s harsh reply caused him to begin coughing and spluttering. His chest heaved, and he covered his mouth as he struggled to regain breath. The sickness in him was all over his skin, seeping out in beads of sweat.
“Get out of my home!” He wheezed, leaning forward in his chair like some sort of misshapen creature.
Kurae set one hand loosely on his hip, suddenly recognising the strained voice of a losing man. It wasn’t the argument Florien was losing, though.
‘You’ve brainwashed him,’ Kurae repeated, more sure of himself. ‘I won’t have to say a word, because sooner or later he’ll figure it out all on his own.’ He hitched his bag more securely on his shoulder. ‘Then who will he want to be with? The brother who’s been a clingy, needy prick to him his whole life, or the brother who realised what a prick he was and found it in himself to change?’
Florien did not stop struggling for breath as he pulled himself forward. He had a rag to splutter into, and it speckled with blood as he did so.
“Get, out…” He sobbed, clutching his chest with his free hand. “Get out!”
Kurae nodded to himself. He’d said all he could. ‘Think on it,’ he said again, then made for the stairs, descending two at a time as he neared their foot.
He raked his fingers back through his hair and scratched the back of his head as he strode back through the kitchens and out into the sunlight. He rolled his shoulders, but didn’t feel the stiffness lifting from them. His conversation with Florien wasn’t the last of it, he knew, but he hoped at least it was a start. Kurae himself had changed for Sebastian; he could only hope Florien might, too.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 12:17 pm (UTC)I still love "‘I’m not threatening anything!" Best line Kurae. <3 Sorry Florien is such a horrible bitter bitch!
Follow up fic now please? Go find Seb at the fish markets Kurae!
no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 06:09 pm (UTC)Oh Man Sebastian just...
criesheadhands.no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 08:52 am (UTC)We need to write the follow up to this AND the follow up to the sex AND finish the Kazinians fic ANNNNND.... so many other things.
SO MANY NARTI.
(Ku said to start WRITING.)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 07:52 am (UTC)Florien is fantastically sharp. I love him in a twisted, malicious kind of way >)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 08:24 am (UTC)I just hope I get your Layan people right when I do write him @_@
no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 08:51 am (UTC)... what.