terriblepurpose | Deer Country Contact

[Paul tilts his head as he observes the rise and fall of Kaworu's fingers. He slides his hand in Kaworu's hair to one side, sets his thumb against the thickest ridge of his skull, and mirrors it back to him, soundless and soft as the faint suggestion of an upturned corner of his mouth.]

Is it worth the allergies?

[Paul understands the distinction between protected and guarded well enough not to have to ask about it. Safe, but also constrained.]

Edited 2022-03-05 00:02 (UTC)

[Don't call him out like this! There's a little huff and squirm and Kaworu hopes that it's too dark to see his face turn a little pink. Then he feels the gentle taps and settles, instantly soothed by the feeling of affectionate fingers against his hair. A tether and a reminder of a promise.]

Maybe. [A new rhythm.] If I get to pick the next film for movie night.

[Considering that no one in this house or its constituent Houses knows any films, Paul thinks this is a compromise he can manage. It's good to see Kaworu taking an interest in something that requires being conscious, too.

(He worries about the dreams, their pull. He should have worried more, before. Now anything that anchors Kaworu is a thing Paul wants to give him.)]

I think we can do that. What do you have in mind?

[Mirrored, again, and then repeated with a slight alteration.]

Mmm.

[He taps back, as easily as breathing. It's soothing, like the sound of the water in his dream, but it anchors him in his body. A reminder of where he is, what his body is like, how he exists next to another.]

We could try the wizard movie again.

[Last time he was out like a light before they even showed the ring.]

[Paul had pretended to be pinned by Kaworu's draped legs over his lap for the rest of it, blankets pulled up under his chin in the dark room.]

Do you want me to wake you up if you fall asleep this time?

[There's yet another blanket piled up where the bed meets the wall in the corner Paul shoved it into (more defensible, out of the line of sight of the window - and who puts glass in a bedroom, anyway?), this one smaller. They've been accumulating steadily, although Paul isn't quite sure how. He reaches for this one and absently shrugs it over his shoulders against a feeling of cold that's either new, or just remembered.]

I won't fall asleep! I'm better now.

[(As long as he doesn't take any benadryl or anything.)

Still, he had tried to stay awake, he really had, but back then his body just kept getting tugged back into dreams. Simply existing as a single entity had been exhausting, almost painful, so curling up and sleeping while Paul sat next to him had been nothing but relief.

And he's still a little on the sleepys ide but he can manage much more now thanks to Teacher. A lot of things were thanks to Teacher.

Noticing Paul's reach for a blanket, Kaworu shifts a little so the blanket covering him can go askew and cover more of Paul's legs. It's probably meaningless but still a gentle gesture.]

I want to understand these stories you like so much.

[Kaworu has been better. It's undeniable truth, even without the closing of the blurred hor~~eye~~zons of unbearable possibilities in the dark oceans of the yet. Another miracle from God's own merciful hands that Paul can only be wretchedly humbled by.

He was so wrong, about so much. (It drowns him when he sleeps.)]

You'll like them too. I promise.

[But the sentiment softens him, anyway, as does the gesture. Watching Kaworu be able to do this at all is a hot compress on a bruise.]

Now that you're awake, do you want to get up, or stay here?

[He can't help but smile up at Paul and his messy hair. A promise over something so small and almost meaningless, that's definitely Paul Atreides. A reminder that, no matter what, the Paul he cares for is always in there.]

Hmm. It is comfortable here.

[But not everyone appreciates naps as much as he does! He's trying to win Paul over on this one. He settles down a little in the blankets.]

Do you want to make something in the kitchen?

[This is Paul's new idea of... fun? Kaworu hasn't quite parsed that one out.]

[At the mention of the kitchen Paul draws himself up a little straighter, anticipation obvious.]

Are you hungry? I can, if you are.

[He's not good at cooking, yet, but it's a tangible thing that occupies his hands and his time, and it settles something in him, watching the people he shares this roof with eat things he made for them.]

But we can stay here if you aren't. There's no where else you have to go.

A little.

[He's not but he sees the way Paul draws himself up straighter and he likes that. And he likes the idea that he can facilitate that. He'll stomach a few mouthfuls of overdone noodles for that.

He's quiet for a moment, enjoying the last few seconds of being comfortable and close in the bed. Then he raises his arms and wiggles his fingers temptingly for Paul to grab his hands and pull him upright.]

But there are other places I can go.

I was going to try to make rice again.

[It should be simple, according to the instructions the shopkeeper pinned to the bag at his request. He'd managed to produce a pot of sticky clumps over a compressed, blackened puck instead.

(And it's not the same rice, only as close as he can find, but he remembers steaming bowls of fluffy grains topped with tiny, fried fish, dark fermented sauce, grey salt, and he keeps trying.)

He slips out of the bed, blanket still draped over his shoulders, and takes Kaworu's wriggling fingers to raise him up as requested.]

Like to the bath?

[An innocuous-seeming question, if not for the tilted, slight smile that goes with it.]

Rice is good. The smell reminds me of Japan.

[The only other home he'd had before coming here. He stuffs the handkerchief into his pocket and, using Paul more as an anchor than elevator, Kaworu uses the motion to swing himself lightly up onto his feet and out of the bed. His footsteps are light and airy in contrast to the loud sneeze that indicates Paul's success at clearing his sinuses.]

The bath is amazing. It feels like you're floating and sound echoes around the room. You should try it. Teacher's room has one so big I bet even you could lie down in it.

[You and your stupid long legs! He gives Paul a little press on the back of the heel with his own foot.]

[Paul nudges Kaworu's foot back with his socked toes as he takes the blanket from his shoulders and drapes it around Kaworu's. It hangs further on the smaller boy, envelops more of him.]

It reminds me of home, too.

[His voice is settling into a closer approximation of singularity, he notices. He touches his throat, absently, stroking fingers down its column. It feels the same as it always does.]

I don't know if he'd want me to use his bath.

[The softness in his voice, on the other hand, is for another reason. He touches Kaworu's elbow to guide them both towards the door, staying close.]

Have you ever put scented oils in a bath? Or bubbles?

[Kaworu takes the blanket without fuss, smiling a little at the way Paul's voice seems to be returning to its normal tenor. He follows Paul, barefoot, out the room, musing with more energy than he'd had in a long time.]

I could ask. [For now, Kaworu still thinks Teacher to be nothing but a kind man who helped him back from the brink. He's more indulgent than other adult Kaworu has ever encountered.] No, I haven't. Should I? In Japan, shared bathing spaces were common. They had baths the size of our entire bedroom at NERV. There are even still hot springs resorts just outside of Tokyo-3. I'd always hoped to go to one.

[But he never did.]

Edited 2022-03-07 19:50 (UTC)

There's a hot spring bath in Trench. Achelliac. We could go someday.

[Down the stairs they head, Paul a half-step ahead. He feels safe enough leaving all but his wrist-knife behind in this house. Perhaps that's close to safe enough to ask about the bath.

(But when would he have time? Who would watch the door?)]

You should ask for you. And you might like bubbles in your bath, even if it's one of the smaller tubs. They wouldn't let you do that at a bathhouse, but they're - fun.

[Paul hasn't taken a bath with bubbles in it for some time, but he remembers building mountains of foam and hiding inside them, pretending he was lying in wait like a sea monster to surprise a maid or an attendant or even his mother, when she had time to see to him.]

We should. It might not be like the ones in Japan but... I want to see it. We could bring Gideon and Harrow.

[He bounds after Paul, leaping and then floating down the last few steps onto the landing, so he can observe the taller boy's back curiously. He thinks that this is something Paul has done. In some ways, he and Paul are similar, they were cultivated for a purpose and kept from excess that didn't move them closer towards an end goal. But there are things that Paul knows that Kaworu can't imagine ever learning.]

Did you do that? Take baths with bubbles?

[Paul presses his lips together firmly to stifle a little cough, his throat perhaps irritated by the ambient pollen. For some reason, it looks and sounds like someone holding back a laugh.]

Gideon and Harrow might not like it there.

['Harrow', now, when he's speaking to people in the house. He walks down the hall unconcerned by Kaworu's floating, a thing that is also becoming familiar.]

I did, when I was younger. [No skeletons in the kitchen, this time; only a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink.] I'd make islands out of it to sail my boats around.

What's that about?

[Squinting at him and yet padding after him eagerly! Why did that sound like a laugh? What's going! What's the big secret? He must know or else he'll die (again). And there's a joy in enthusiasm that he missed while his soul was submerged.]

Boats? Oh, toys. [He cocks his head, looking up at Paul.] So at one time, we were the same size.

[So there's hope!]

It's a bath house that caters to men and people of other genders. Not so much women.

[The words for genders he uses don't quite translate as precisely as Paul would prefer, but he thinks the gist is retained, and hopes the implications translate with them.

It's hard to focus too much on that as he finds a small, genuine smile at the corner of his mouth, despite everything.]

I was even smaller than you, if you can believe that. I didn't start getting taller until two years ago.

Ah, I see. Humans are always so concerned about modesty.

[He snorts like it's funny. Too bad Gideon and Harrow won't be able to chill out at the men's only bathtub that Kaworu's still growing mind could never imagine actually existed for people just like him.

Then his eyes go wide and he stands closer to Paul as if trying to assess how much smaller that would be by sizing him up in his current state. ...That's pretty small. That's a lot of inches to grow.]

So, you were just a little younger than me when you started growing. Maybe I'll be taller than you by next year.

[Modesty taboos are admittedly funny, even if that's still not exactly the nature of the bath house (which Paul finds himself oddly unsettled to think about describing to Kaworu, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth).]

The only animals ashamed of our own skin, I know.

[He evaluates Kaworu sizing him up, almost like a mirror.]

You could be. I'm not going to get taller than this.

[On that note, he reaches out to ruffle Kaworu's hair while he still can, before gracefully slipping away to bring down the bag of rice from a high cupboard shelf.]

It's very odd. Still... it's only for men and those that are like men. Hm. I suppose it makes everyone more at ease.

[Yeah, okay. That's kind of appealing. Even if he thinks the reasoning behind it is silly.

(Little does he know of course.)

There's a huff at the hair ruffle and a weak attempt to shove the hand away.]

We should start measuring. So we can catch when it starts.

[Like teen growth is like that of the plants that have started growing everywhere.

He hops up onto the counter to reach into a cupboard and pull out a pot that he sets onto the stove. At this point, he's at least started to understand all the bits and pieces that are needed when it comes to cooking. So he can help with that.]

[Paul will have to get around to explaining, eventually, if he does ever take Kaworu there. (If he's given the chance. If Kaworu will still go with him. If, if, if.) But it feels - delicate, sensitive. Another thing he should be careful with.]

We should.

[He almost suggests markings on a wall, in a fit of thoughtless nostalgia, but that implies things about the duration of their time here that fall into the category of things Paul isn't thinking of yet. (He doesn't have to. He can let it rest in someone else's steady hands. There are days when that relief is all that lets him crawl out from under piled blankets.)

Kaworu adding the pot to the stove brings another pale smile to Paul as he measures out rice into a bowl with one of the mugs from the cupboard after a review of the pinned instructions.]

It says we need two and a half cups of water. Would you mind?

[He offers Kaworu the empty cup in his outstretched hand, moving to the sink to rinse the rice - even though to his eye, it doesn't seem dirty.]

I'm going to keep reminding you until we do.

[It's said with good humor because it doesn't really need to be said, if he wants something, he'll keep trying to get it. But there's an underlying current there, of someone who is desperate to have promises kept and to be held in enough esteem to be remembered.

Dutifully, he takes the cup and fills it with water. He lets it run over the edge of the cup and cascade down his hands. It's warm, not cold like the sea, and it doesn't have the stinging smell of salt beneath it.

He offers cup to Paul.]

[Paul takes the cup, heedless of the wet exterior, and dumps it into the pot on the stove before handing it back. He swirls the rice in its bowl until the water is milky, then strains it through his fingers slowly - last time, he'd done it all at once, and spilled half the rice into the sink.

(Paul is not yet aware of the existent of a fine mesh strainer basket in this very kitchen.)]

I don't forget things, Kaworu.

[With answering wan good humor, and an answering undercurrent to match. He remembers almost everything, always.]

Especially not about you. Brat.

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