St. Aslepius University - A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)

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Brock Butschky
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Re: A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)
« Reply #30 on Oct 22, 2007, 12:28pm »

"Naturally," he offered, gracious and kind, as if there was never a man who was more willing to give than Brock Butschky -- as if temples should have been erected in his name; as if he should have had plays written about him; as if he resided at the top of the tallest mountain in the world looking down, sitting at a stone table with his arms folded and deciding that, no, the world wasn't truly all right, but it would do anyway: it was good enough.

His arm slipped around Elias' shoulders, shaking him gently and roughing him -- a small gesture of comfort. "But I ask you don't come at night unless you have an escort. Your kitten's welcome at any time as well, but I have a feeling you'd be unable to force him here."

Brock's eyes lifted to the ceiling, mouth curved down somewhat, eyes low-lidded and distant. "A shame, what happened to his face."

When that thought passed, he began to lead Elias toward the door, politely saying, "The keys are on the key holder." And they were: the key holder was mounted beside the door, deep and rich, carved into the shape of an upside-down oak leaf. On each of the leaf's ends, a set of keys lingered. There seemed to be more keys than what one person would need, but on the bottom left were two: one silver, one gold.

"They're the bottom most on the left. Whichever key colour you prefer, you're free to have." Judging by the two different colours, he must have had copies made.

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The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow,
He did not stay, nor go.

Elias Sven
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Re: A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)
« Reply #31 on Oct 22, 2007, 8:20pm »

The gesture reminded Elias that he had nothing to worry about, even though he wasn't worrying in the first place. Later on, weeks from now, he might have needed the small shake to remind him that Brock tolerating him was real. As for now, it was a quick transition from trying to get something to having nothing to achieve at all. While Brock had the idea to look up, Elias decided to glance down.

"It's healing," he informed, although a little put off that Fletcher was brought up. With the look Fletcher had given him when Brock was in their room, he would not inform the other male about his friend's well-being or who had exactly done it. Did Fletcher even really know who did it? It remained a mysterious.

Moving closer to the door he shifted his gaze off of the wood and noticed the keys mounted there, taunting him. Immediately, he took to the ones on the bottom left. Elias released Brock to reach out and take the silver one, folding the key within his palm to glance up at Brock. Really, can I have these? his face said but he quickly averted his attention to the door. Still, he didn't want to leave, not when the scent of Brock hung under his nose.

"Thank you again, Brock, I really appreciate it."

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The king is mine; the king is dead.

Brock Butschky
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Re: A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)
« Reply #32 on Oct 22, 2007, 9:21pm »

When Elias took the silver key, Brock reached his hand out to pluck up the gold one, as if he planned on being away after he'd seen Elias home. "There's nothing to appreciate," he teased, wisely not offering anything else in reply to 'It's healing' even though he would have liked to ask more about Fletcher's condition, how Fletcher was feeling, what Fletcher said, what time Fletcher came home, what Fletcher sounded like -- was his voice trembling? Was he brave? Was he upset? -- and various other questions that Elias likely wouldn't care to answer.

Even Brock could tell Elias didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm terribly selfish, you see: it will be nice to have another body coming and going. When I come home, it's too perfect." His arm slowly left Elias' shoulders, but the palm had another purpose: it slipped down so it could cup Elias' elbow, squeezing and holding onto it the way he always did when he intended to lead Elias somewhere, but was afraid of touching too much. The other palm reached for the door when they were close, holding it for the other. "Be sure to leave a mess for me to pick up. I'll be out for a few hours once I take you back. While I'm gone, you're free to come back once you let your pet know you're alive."

It was somewhat mean to call Fletcher that, but it was all in good humour. After all, Fletcher had been one of Elias' knights.

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The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow,
He did not stay, nor go.

Elias Sven
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mercyside

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Re: A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)
« Reply #33 on Oct 22, 2007, 9:49pm »

If Brock wanted another body coming and going, Elias would merrily act as the person doing so. He smiled lightly, but it wasn't too bright and obvious. There was a meaning in 'too perfect' that he couldn't grasp but he had an inkling that maybe Brock grew lonesome. Perhaps it was like the Men who dreamed about coming home to the Woman who had dinner prepared and the family gathered at the table.

Feeling the hand shift to his shoulder and down to his elbow, let him know it was time to leave.

Elias started to walk out, turning his head to look around the apartment building curiously. So far he saw no one else leaving their rooms and continued on. "A mess?" he mused, wondering why Brock wanted such a thing. Usually people wanted their rooms to be clean and well organized. However, other than repeating it to himself, he didn't question further. After all, he was going to come back and already had a plan in mind to make a mess. Perhaps Brock was an OCD and had loads of fun cleaning up after people.

"All right, except I wouldn't address him as a pet.." it was a slight warning, but his voice remained neutral, meaning no harm.

« Last Edit: Oct 22, 2007, 9:49pm by Elias Sven »

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Long live the king,
The king is mine; the king is dead.

Brock Butschky
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Re: A study in How Long Can He Sleep? (Elias)
« Reply #34 on Oct 22, 2007, 11:15pm »

"Oh, not to his face, no," answered Brock flippantly, waving the hand that held the key in the air as he used that very same hand to close the door behind him. The hand shifted to a pocket in his pants and he must have abandoned the key there: the next time he lifted his hand, it was empty.

Although Elias was starting to move, Brock kept his palm on Elias' elbow and kept up with him. If there was anything at which he'd gotten good since he'd known the other, it was keeping up with Elias Sven's whims and movements.

"But otherwise it's a harmless." As if proving that there was no harm in it at all, Brock squeezed Elias' elbow as he lead him down the hallway. "He'd do nearly anything for you, you know."

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The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow,
He did not stay, nor go.

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