behavioural | saltburnmods

[ ah. he hasn't heard. ]

Jamison. He names you in his vote.

I'd cut him for you, but I imagine you'd prefer doing it yourself.

that fucking bitch

( matt jamison, you're dead. )

i'm coming out

Looking forward to it.

( well, he said his piece, got his ☕️ and had a few hours to... suspend his murderous rage against matt jamison, so next to waiting for the help to clean up the rather unfortunate mess in his bedroom, he has enough of his night left to seek a certain blond out. a favor, even unprompted, is never left unpaid.

he also figures that he should tell aemond what he is in his own words, even though the choice to reveal it had been stolen from him today. so, he seeks him out within the manor, during a moment in time when he knows that he will be alone.

at least now that he has been exposed as a witch, pierce no longer needs to pretend like he can't track somebody down if he wanted to. )

Let's talk. ( no greeting, no pleasantries. )

Out here, or in private?

[ pierce finds aemond trying to rest in a reclining seat, nursing a single cup of a fragrant sweetwine. he'd ask the servants to raise a draught for relief, the pain in his head and empty socket having gotten unbearable earlier. a painkiller, the servant had said, when she handed him a small tablet of white. crush it and mix it with the drink,she suggested, it'd kick in faster.

she had been correct. he can barely feel the throb of pain along his brow. truthfully he can't feel much of anything beyond an odd lassitude.

he is not robbed of his senses, however, unlike with milk of the poppy. he rises, drains his cup of the drink, and waits for pierce to lead. ]

Edited (please i'm dying) 2024-10-09 06:55 (UTC)

In private.

( it ultimately doesn't matter to him where they have this conversation though, so as soon as aemond is on his feet, pierce guides them towards one of the nearby rooms within the manor. the chance of it being occupied is slim, given what had happened the night of the party and what is expected to happen again.

most would be attempting to either ensure safety in numbers within a group or barricade themselves within their bedrooms. )

I'd invite you to my room, but it's currently being refurnished. ( he flicks his fingers at the first door, swinging it open. it's one of the many break rooms scattered throughout the country house and, unsurprisingly, empty and unused. ) Don't worry, I'll make this quick.

[ is it wrong that he feels himself thrilled at this encounter? he understands their relationship to be nothing more than transactional, and he appreciates its clarity. they give as much as they take, which means the balance between them will always equal; their sums will account to null, at the end of the day.

unless— ]

Is there something I could for you, Strickland?

[ he's entered the room soon as the door opens without needs opening by hand; he notes it with curiosity, now knowing pierce's true nature, but doesn't press upon it. aemond sits himself against the edge of a simple table pushed against the wall. ]

Or is this a social call?

( just as it had opened, the door closes behind them.

pierce waits for aemond to settle in the room, before he speaks. )

I'm not seeking a favor. ( he draws closer to him, until he can easily brace his hands on either side of him upon the surface of the table. ) Or a social call. ( he raises his hand to tap the corner of his dark blue mask. ) Kind of a mood killer.

( one thing for a masquerade mask to be a temporary accessory, but when it suddenly becomes a more permanent fixture, let's just say that he isn't too thrilled about his own magic being surpassed by some unknown force. )

I just wanted you to hear this directly from me. ( he makes certain that their gaze meet. ) I'm a witch. Natural born. Magic courses through my veins because it's my birthright. I don't need acceptance and I damn well don't fear persecution. I only... ( he draws in a quiet breath. ) wanted to do this the right way. With you. ( —to take back some control, at least enough to last him until the end of this game. )

I also wanted to thank you. ( he reclines back now, retracting his hands. ) For contacting me when you did.

[ the cursed mask. aemond has had to fight with his own, seeing as it trapped his hair in places that felt uncomfortable. good that he had the sense to not wear his eyepatch under the mask, because the pinch of the mask and the stress of the strap would have made him even worse-tempered than he usually is.

but now the sapphire is clearly visible, the polished surface winking when the light glances over it. he wants to take the stone out, as it presses against bone painfully with the mask pushing it down, but there isn't a way to pull it, no way to ease it.

pain within. and now, pain without. not because pierce is speaking to him to hurt him, or that his words find their aim true and cutting into his affections. this closeness stings on the heels of tim laughlin's rejection of him, of the way he expresses his fondness. he doesn't understand how tim would refuse him but pierce would give him this, how easily it is for both men to pull him in separate directions by simply talking to him.

aemond breathes lightly, draws a breath through his teeth. catches one of pierce's wrists in a fine-boned hand and holds him in place. ]

No one man should be accused in absence. They behave cravenly and shamefully, giving your name and birthright as if they command it.

You make my blood rise, Strickland. But I do not mislike you. [ with his other hand he cradles pierce's cheek. digs his thumb hard against the slope of his cheekbone. ] Why is that?

Edited (wow html) 2024-10-10 04:30 (UTC)

( in truth, pierce has not known aemond for long. they have not spent much time together, aside from two heated joining of the flesh. he knows little of aemond's family or the world that he originates from because he has never felt a reason to ask, to pry into affairs that have no relation to his own. even when he had agreed to protect alicent hightower, he didn't bother to ask for more detail than what he needed to ensure that he got the right woman.

arguably, his indifference does not lend credence to why they both find themselves here now — one on the tail end of a genuine admission and the other left to ruminate on why, of all the persons he has met in this manor, aemond is the one he chose to give it.

but pierce strickland cannot claim to be a honest or sentimental creature. at his core, he is self-serving, calculative and terribly broken — and is this exchange not just a desperate attempt for him to regain some semblance of power over a life that has spiraled completely out of his own control?

if he was a better person, perhaps he would have had the foresight to circumvent misunderstanding.

but it's too late for that and, even if there had exist any signs of conflict within aemond's eye, he is far more enthralled by the sapphire in the other, having said what he needed to and, at least for a moment, able to take note and appreciate the unraveling of what was once concealed from his sight.

he doesn't pull away from aemond, yet the sharpness of his eyes and the rigidness of his features do not waver at the warmth of his touch. if anything, they seem to intensify with a renewed heat and, perhaps, an ever subtle hint of confoundment. )

You tell me. ( his voice soft and direct, his accent almost imperceptible as he purposefully leans into the caress of aemond's hand. )

[ quietly, almost as if he's telling himself; ]

I don't know. But I do.

[ pierce is not like him, but aemond doesn't need him to be. pierce matches his anger, matches his penchant for violence but differently. this place has taken his life apart in ways foreign to aemond, and he supposes it's something similar for pierce. there is no control. there is no distance from the world that presses its will against their own. aemond does not have a dragon to burn his enemies with, to cleanse the earth so that it might be rebuilt into something he understands.

he doesn't understand pierce either. but he understands his anger, the rage over the offence and at family and at all of the fuckery this place has offered without reprieve.

fingers near-cut into skin, but not out of a desire to hurt. he wants to feel. to touch the living heartbeat within pierce's body.

aemond settles for kissing him instead. ]

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why do i only see typos when i can't edit

me always

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