Duck Lake are you worth your weight in gold, cause you're behind my eyelids when i'm all alone

@Mahler <3
600th post !!

He felt— dirty. He wasn't; not really. But it felt that way— so when he came to the edge of the clear, sparkling lake, his first thought was that he ought to wash himself. Without thinking, he stepped into the water. A couple feet in, he realized this was a mistake.
Alarian was just so goddamn tired. He stood in the water, gaze drifting out over the horizon with a distant expression. Here was a pressing dilemma— he wanted the bath, even if he didn't need it, but at present he didn't even possess the willpower to get out of the water. He sighed softly, wondering not for the first time why he was like this.

:D!

the small lake not far from swiftcurrent's borders was an infernal place, mahler decided. he had quit the packlands once more in search of prey; he was unused to the constant appearance of others roundabout him, and found it altogether unpleasant. 
and so he had slipped away, ranging toward the glitter of water in the green distance. but as he grew near, so did the raucuous sounds, until he found the lakeshore choked with reeking fowl. ears splayed with disappointment and no small amount of irritation, mahler paused, lowering his head betwixt his shoulders and narrowing his lavender gaze in indignation.
a sweep of the vicinity brought something aside from loud duck; the musiker lifted his broad muzzle and did not hesitate to approach the sanctuary's governer, a low and friendly woof emerging from his throat.

He had come to a place on the lake a small distance off from where the ducks congregated; the arrival of another seemed to startle them back towards him, and he was no longer able to ignore their presence. His expression shifted to one of distaste; he found it sufficient motivation to move from the water. Alarian emerged with legs dripping, though the rest of him was fairly dry, and kept his head low until a bark alerted him to the presence of another.
Mahler. He blinked once, too weary to feel anything more than a muted stirring in his chest at the sight of him. Oh, he was still beautiful— but Alarian, for once, felt quite composed. His expression remained passive (if tired), but did not lack warmth; the dark-furred male was pleasant company.
Mahler, His tail swished as the other approached, but he didn't move. Instead he laid down and started to groom the wetness from his legs, gesturing for the other to settle near if he felt inclined. For the moment, he was content with not speaking.

swiftly mahler had taken in the slower movements, the new gauntness of alarian's already slim form, the haggard nature that clung to the boy like silt. pausing alongside the brackenwolf, he peered hesitantly into the cherub's face, ears sliding back along his skull.
a creature altogether worthless in terms of comforting, he opted not to hover awkwardly beside his companion. settling himself a scant few feet away, he glanced a last time at alarian before turning his lavender stare out over the lake. and, mahler noted grimly, its overabundance of ducks.

Alarian didn't speak until his forelimbs were mostly dry; it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, from his perspective. He was oblivious to the other's brief scrutiny of his condition, for better or worse. Mostly, he thought it was nice to have company— Mahler was not the warmest of wolves, but he was... alive, breathing. That was enough.
You know, He began almost lazily when the urge to break the silence finally struck him. His thoughts went to Ulf. I don't think I look anything like a mouse. Alarian wasn't offended; his tone was more playful than anything, though muted by his lethargy. Little mouse, he mused to himself for the billionth time since learning the word's meaning. He didn't look at all like a mouse!

mahler too found enjoyment in the comfortable silence that wreathed around them. when alarian spoke, one ear swiveled toward the boy, but it was not until the subject of mice arose that the gargoyle turned his gaze back upon his companion. implacably he stared at the dampened cherub, until some sneaking light of humour rose in his lilac eyes. accompanying it soon thereafter was the slow spread of a pleased smile.
"no. you do not." there was no aspect vaguely rodentlike shared by alarian. "but you are small. delicate. shy. wie eine maus." a little field creature caught unawares in a summertime downpour. satisfied by the shift from quietude, mahler waited to see what might be given in response.

Perhaps it was odd, but he thought of the smile almost as a gift; not necessarily from Mahler, either. It was a small moment granted to him to feel something aside from exhaustion, grief, self-loathing. A half-hearted consolation prize from the world, he thought, to witness what he felt was a rare thing in the other. He returned the smile, his own faint and quick to fade.
Another time, the blunt observation of his traits might have sent a flush through his ears. His gaze only sparked with muted curiosity now. Alarian stretched out his legs, a slightly mischievous thought coming to him. What would you be, then? The smile returned, this time impish and a little more enthusiastic, though it was as fleeting as the first. He wasn't sure what answer he expected, but he thought he knew what his own choice would be.

alarian smiled twice, brightening more with the last. mahler turned, aligning himself toward the cherub and allowing the worry to ebb in a small way from his regard of the boy. the words that came then were more inviting, perhaps rougish in a way — mahler welcomed them for their direct reflection of alarian's improving mood.
rolling his dappled shoulders in an exaggerated show of ignorance, the musiker peered at his companion with an expectant expression. what animal, what creature, might the governor see in him? though his elation was not readily apparent, mahler had found a deep enjoyment in this game of little subtleties.

This time he angled his head slightly to hide his smile when Mahler only shrugged, taking a moment to consider the man before him.
Dark and elusive, he thought; elegant, but rough-edged. Ultimately, he supposed the physical aesthetic wasn't all that drew him to the man— perhaps not even most of it, though it could seem that way. It was in large part the quiet, dispassionate nature of his companion— and everything he thought he could sense rippling under it. He imagined Mahler's mind was sharp, beautiful; not welcoming, perhaps, but fascinating. Something to be admired only from afar, alluring as he was. It made his physical appeal so much greater than it might have been otherwise (though that was nothing to be scoffed at, either).

A raven, He murmured after several long moments, smile fading but not fully abating as he watched for Mahler's reaction. For a moment he considered clarifying, but he only studied the man's features as he waited. He was undeniably intrigued to see where his companion took the comparison in his own mind— assuming he would be made privy to these thoughts.

mahler gave a low smile as alarian revealed what it was he saw the other to be. "good," came the consistency of his more monosyllabic nature. ravens were loyal, fierce corvids who did not respect without reason. fitting; flattering. the din of the ducks forgotten, the gargoyle turned his gaze upon the lake and several breaths passed before once more his heavy voice broke the silence.
"many years ago, my vife once called me teufel. devil." some inflection of unfamilar emotional root infused the edges of the old word, but mahler remained impassive, his focus trained across the ripples left by swimming waterfowl. "and i vas a devil." and coward, came the years-spanning and thorny hiss at the back of his mind; mahler allowed it voice this time. the sentiment was not incorrect.
presently, one charcoal aud swiveled to monitor alarian's response; the beast looked again at his slight companion. "vhat has made you sad?"

Mahler was pleased, then— it gave Alarian some small pleasure as well. The man's next words brought conflicting reactions within himself, none of which pierced the lethargic expression that had settled on his features as the last hints of the smile faded. He didn't doubt the other meant what he said; against his better judgment, he found it... enticing. If only because the statement solidified in many ways that Mahler was untouchable— a devil, he called himself.
And the whole wife thing was rather disappointing. Of course he was straight— just his luck. He couldn't remember ever craving a near-stranger's touch so badly; knowing for certain he could not have it increased the desire tenfold. Still, he was tired. And Mahler had a question he did not want to answer. In a way, Alarian was grateful for the reason to briefly feel irritated with the man.
Too many things, He murmured, deciding he was thinking too much and turning his focus instead to admiring Mahler's features. Clearly the other didn't mind— perhaps he even found it flattering. And it gave Alarian a focus aside from things he couldn't have and questions he didn't like. Things I'd rather forget right now.

alarian turned toward mahler and the wretched thing studied him with no small measure of cool regard. it was the expectancy that the gargoyle felt the governor intended that bristled the silver-stippled hackles, brought an edge that had not been there to sharpen the lilac of his stare.
mahler lifted himself presently, closing the distance between himself and the slight boy with two trudges of his long side. silently the man settled himself against alarian's flank, allowing the proximity between the pair to dissipate with the brush of his pelt. it was not often he allowed such things; mahler was not a creature who desired contact from his fellows. 
but the mouse was someone about which he had come to care, albeit in a fleeting and largely unemotional way, as was his way. and he felt that perhaps the closeness of another might go some way toward improving the sylph's mood. once more, mahler turned his gaze upon the ducks and found quietude upon his tongue.

He suspected it was unintentional, but he felt deeply the subtle cruelty in Mahler's actions. His pulse increased first with apprehension, expression growing confused and faintly hurt. The only reason he could fathom for the shift in demeanor was that the man was displeased with his reticence; that could not be helped. It wasn't this, ultimately, that tormented him.
The emotion rending his chest in two stemmed from what he saw as a complete and total 180. Mahler's approach had been met with further confusion, a tinge of fear to it, but the end result cut more deeply than anything he might have expected. Despite his exhaustion, his mind's determination to be little but dull and detached, the lilac-eyed man effortlessly drew feeling from him.
He was tense for the first beat as he took in the feeling of their fur mingling. Almost involuntarily, he relaxed into the touch. He sighed, then, as if relieved of some burden; in a way, it was rather opposite. Nothing could have stopped him from taking some solace in this, however. Not even the lingering confusion over Mahler's seemingly mixed messages— not even the unfairness of it all.

Alarian lowered his head to the ground, daring to shift closer by fractions. In that moment, his existence was centered on their point of contact. Few things existed outside of it; there was little room for thought. He let the silence stretch between them, but something had shifted within him, and perhaps it was obvious. The heavy fog had abated, at least temporarily; in its place sat a strange and somehow equally heavy rawness, a vulnerability he had not been eager to expose. It was a feeling he found not entirely negative— or unwanted.

sensing the boy's turmoil, but sadly unaware of the detailing that marked each moment for alarian, mahler settled against his companion, the lake holding his attention but for a moment. not a creature pleased by touch, the musiker nevertheless found some biological draw toward the comfort of another. resistant for only a short time, the gargoyle glanced sideways at alarian, his gaze taking in the light-auraed edges of the other's pelt.
and away again, but the ducks had collected themselves into a flock and gone off. mahler, aware  he had initiated something that was beginning to largely discomfit him, if only at the newness, nevertheless determined he would remain as he was. silence stretched on, interminable; at length he found himself unable to look toward the governor again, for fear he would entangle them in ways mahler had not intended.

The chaos Mahler had caused within him faded in the silence, left him stripped bare and far too tired to do anything about it. Actually, he was too tired to do anything about anything right now; the general theme of the interaction, really. 'ITT: Alarian is too tired to do anything stupid this time'. He did notice when the other turned to look at him— and he did notice that it didn't happen again, but he thought very little of it.
He lifted his head slightly to idly inspect the man's scarred leg, remembering the circumstances of their first meeting. He recalled what he'd been doing, and the thought ached a little; he hadn't been so carefree since. Perhaps he never would be again. (Assuming his inspection was allowed) his nose brushed slightly over the scarred flesh, brief and feather-light and— genuinely unintentional. A little startled by his own slip, he turned his face away from Mahler entirely and tensed marginally, and considered just retreating entirely if the other didn't do so first. 'Correction: he's still quite capable.'

the exhaustion wafting from his companion did little to tender the stiffness that suddenly compelled mahler at the gentle brush of the other's muzzle. the scars had long heaked — from time to time they did ache or itch, but beneath alarian's questing lips, mahler felt only an uncomfortable and foreign warmth.
the sensation eked through him, until he was fair put-upon to steady himself upon a long and direct gaze at the young governor. the brute was not unaware of how the boy had once felt, and beneath the tired mien he suspected there were other wants to alarian, in this moment. but he was not sure — he did not wish to assume. once more, directness found his tongue, a bluntness softened by the rare and open expression in his lilac eyes: "vhat is it you vant, alarian?"

The feeling of Mahler's gaze on him prompted him to turn his own eyes back to the other. The length of the stare coupled with his companion's tension slowly increased his anxiety, but he found himself frozen. And when the man finally spoke, Alarian found himself at once baffled and breathless and terrified. He knew immediately he couldn't lie, no matter how much he wished he could; he knew rejection was imminent, but some part of him refused to allow his own retreat. Perhaps because he'd already been obvious enough to prompt Mahler's question.
Um, I didn't mean to— I mean, I do want to, you know, but— I wasn't trying to force anything, and— Alarian swallowed hard, regretting everything; why had he admitted this? He always ended up regretting everything. I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. You're just, um, He swallowed again, ears pinning to his skull and flushing with heat as he realized he couldn't back out of this statement. Really, um— really hot.

had the boy referred to mahler as a sweet piece of ass, the reaction would have been much the same: a slow blink followed alarian's words, punctuated by a decidedly vague twitch of his dark lips. quietly he fielded the nerves of the other, preferring to keep on the same pointed path he had taken up until now. "and you vant to lie vith me," mahler suggested, with nary a frisson of social trepidation surrounding his bold assumption.
the nature of males with males was something as of yet uncontemplated by the largely celibate mahler. it was an activity to which he had given no thought, for the solitary nature of his ways had dampened whatever desire might have remained in him from youth. however, a cursory guess led the man to believe it was much the same, but he doubted whatever carnal pleasure he could offer alarian would be enough.
"you vould make a good mate. there is no vorth in rolling about with strangers," the gargoyle intoned, without judgement. there were only two reasons here that he could, or would see: alarian had little sense of self-worth, or it was mere lust that drove the boy. and both prickled at the root of his hackles, for mahler knew he was ill-equipped to deal with either extreme.

He definitely wanted to crawl into a hole and die now. Um, sort of? He managed to choke out. The answer was definitely yes, but he couldn't just say that. Obviously. He wondered briefly if his seeming obsession with the male would abate in the wake of an affair— it didn't seem likely to happen, but he thought maybe it would have.
Mahler's next words inspired another wave of anxiety despite the lack of judgment to his tone. I'm not really ummmm the 'marriage type', He offered awkwardly. 'Rolling about with strangers' was about the extent of his relationship capabilities. And even if he had been inclined to make such a mistake again, Mahler would not have been his first choice. At least, not for that. For a 'roll', though? Mmm.

conflicted, succinct; mahler found himself wary of alarian in the next moments. however, his stoic features impressed none of this; he remained with gaze trained on his companion, silent. pensive. yes to his question; rejection of mateship as a concept. perhaps it was age, or ill experience. mahler did not know, but realized he had come to quite a conundrum. 
and so the musiker settled stubbornly into the tract of each literal thought being spoken aloud. perhaps it was to alarian's chagrin, though it was to mahler's relief, and annoyance. "i am not a physical being. it has been ... many years." that his interludes had been with those of the feminine persuasion was of little account to mahler, for what he wished to impress was not his preference.
"i have little desire for such things, and vould make a poor bedfellow indeed," the brute went on, some flash of self-deprecating humour lighting the stilted planes of his face for a moment.

He swallowed hard as he listened, nodding mutely; he couldn't say he'd expected that, exactly, but he had expected rejection, so the intention behind the words did not surprise him. For several moments he was quiet, expression betraying very little. I— I mean, I figured, He admitted quietly, no trace of resentment to his tone. It was hardly his place to hold it against someone if they didn't want to— him. He wouldn't have wanted himself, desperate as he was, so why should he expect one disinterested in sex as a whole to want him? He tacked on for clarity: That you aren't interested, I mean.
Obviously that's ummm fine, Alarian swallowed again, gaze fixed firmly on the earth between his paws. At least, he thought, Mahler didn't seem to be taking much offense. Or maybe he was, and he just couldn't tell. Like I said, I didn't mean to— I'm not going to— try anything. But god, rejection did sting.

though alarian answered in agreement, in acceptance, the boy's tonality, the way held his body, signalled all was not well. a frown flitted across mahler's dark features; he drew composure by tightening his broad paws against the earth. settling his hard lavender stare upon the governor, the gargoyle waited until the cherub had presumably lifted his head; if not, he would speak all the same.
"you must believe me when i say it has nothing to with vith you, alarian," the musiker stated firmly. "i find you, uhh, was ist das wort, pleasant. to look upon." pausing to recover himself, mahler shook out his thick ruff, rather heated beneath it with embarassment. "i mean that i am not intererested in anyone, man or voman, in that regard."

He sort of wanted to shrivel up and die. The compliment was definitely out of pity, he decided. Nevermind that he didn't suspect Mahler was the type to do things out of pity— it was the only explanation that made any sense to him. And either way, he just wanted a change of subject now.
Um, I— thank you, He managed to choke out before he had to pause, not sounding at all like he believed Mahler. He swallowed hard and took a breath, trying to collect himself before he died of his own embarrassment. Really, though, it's fine. I can handle rejection, I just— I just don't want to talk about it. We can talk about anything else— hell, the ducks, even. Or uhh, I can tell you about my psychotic brother who keeps trying to murder me— or plants? Anything, god, please. Okay, time to breathe and regret that rambling mess.

it had not helped. mahler blinked with a disjointed sense of failure growing inside him; he turned his gaze back upon the lake that held no appeal for him. a brother. murder. ducks. the words spun through his head and mahler realized again with chagrin the disconnect betwixt him and many others, how he had just pressed alarian beyond the boy's limits due to a misreading of a situation he found he did not understand.
and while worry lanced through him for alarian's safety, mahler was reluctant to venture into intimate territory after so heated a rebuff. "vhat is the most interesting plant you have found thus far?" the musiker inquired quietly, a muscle leaping in his cheek, inspiring a rush of muted frustration.
he did not look at alarian this time.

He couldn't help the surge of guilt as Mahler looked away, and pressed a little closer into their lingering closeness without realizing it. In a way, he did appreciate the sentiment behind what the man had tried to express— but he'd likely ruined any chance he might have to make that known. There were too many feelings; a common problem for Alarian, but sometimes he found it exhausting. Sometimes it was just too much, even for him.
You, He deadpanned without thinking to the question, watching the dark male and hoping he might turn to look again. If he did look, Alarian would put some effort into trying to offer a smile— a playful, gentle, sort of grateful smile, but one he could not pull off without a lingering exhaustion to the entire expression. Otherwise he'd just lay his head down again and hope he didn't drive Mahler away in the end.