InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Mon amour."

caius_dukas (caius_dukas) wrote in thebattleage,
@ 2012-03-14 16:32:00

Entry tags:

! incomplete, (thread), brennan wulfe, caius dukas

Thread: Come Sail Away
Who: Caius Dukas, Brennan Wulfe
When: 15 Solis, 9:45
Where: Topside, aboard the ship returning to Amaranthine
Rating: T, at the least. For Caius’ mouth, if nothing else.
Summary: Two asses on board does not an ark make...

The weather was certainly nicer this time around, Caius noted, as he stepped from the gloom of below decks into blinding sunlight. The briney smell of the harbor stung his nose, fish and salt and the rot that accumulated around the piers blending into a stomach-churning miasma. The ship continued its slow crawl from shore, the warehouses and docks sliding further from view with every passing moment. Gulls screamed overhead, wheeling about the masts that threw stark shadows along the length of the ship in the bright daylight, and the breeze that danced along the broadcloth above gradually grew sweeter.

He ambled his way across the rough planks, picking a crooked path between serpentine coils of rope and bulky boxes of cargo, enjoying the colorful language of the sailors as they scampered in the rigging and around the rails. Rough men, every one of them, but he respected their brutal work. The sea was a harsh mistress, even on a relatively uneventful route like this one.

Most of their party seemed to be below still, probably settling in their gear and picking bunks. A lone figure stood alongside the railing however, lanky and taller than most of the sailors that flowed unnoticed around him, a curled mop of hair tossing in the slight wind that blew their ship along. From behind, Brennan’s pose looked casual, nonchalant even, but Caius could see how tightly his hands clenched around the wooden guard that ringed the deck. Knuckles white, the man seemed more than a little bit green around the gills, and Caius couldn’t stop the chuckle that rumbled out of him as he pulled up alongside Brennan.

“You know, if you’re going to puke you might as well get it over with. You’d probably feel better, and...” he paused to glance over at the sailors nearby, who were eyeing Brennan with some amusement. “I’d get to win my bet.”

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brennanwulfe
2012-03-15 10:16 pm UTC (link)

Brennan wished that he had what they called 'sealegs' but at the same time he did not want to go through all the effort to get them. It seemed to involved getting sick so much that it no longer bothered you, which was about as appealing as having an amputation of his third leg. It would probably be less embarrassing, although Brennan claimed rather vocally that he was immune to embarrassment - that was a lie of the highest order, if they had left the harbor and were in the deeper and roiling seas instead of just knocking up against the dock. His stomach gave a full revolution at the thought of the deeper seas. Brennan ducked his head and started taking deep breaths in through his mouth.

The air was heavy with the smell of salt and rotting fish, or maybe it was just fish but whatever it was it smelled disgusting to him, but the breeze that played with his hair was a welcome distraction. As he stood at the rail with his eyes closed and head bowed, he heard and then felt the ship pull away from the dock. Brennan concentrated on breathing and not hurling over the side of the ship.

He hear someone approach, and recognized the mocking tones of the older, one-eyed man. Brennan laughed weakly at the man's comment, although it made his stomach clench dangerously. Gripping the rail even tighter, he tried for a flippant grin as he opened his eyes to look at the man over his shoulder, but it probably came off more like he felt - nauseated and weak. "Only if I get a cut of the winnings." His stomach lurched suddenly, making him pale even more under his naturally darker skin. He closed his eyes and ducked his head again.

Generally, Brennan had enjoyed the man's comments throughout the mission. He had a unique way of putting a sardonic spin on the situation, which always appealed to Brennan's easy sense of humor. Brennan himself was usually mocking, although he often masked it with a grin and a laugh, but the man took it a step further than Brennan would dare.

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caius_dukas
2012-03-16 05:40 am UTC (link)

Caius guffawed at Brennan’s wobbly smile and clapped his broad hand against his back in an amiable gesture, hard enough to jostle the taller man slightly. “Of course! You’re the one doing all the hard work, after all.” Turning around, he braced himself against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other as he folded his rough hands across his middle, squinting into the bright sunlight over at Brennan. “Look at it this way, it could always be worse. At least it’s not your ass you’re having to hang over the side, right?” He paused, cocking his head to one side and pondering briefly before continuing thoughtfully. “Although I’d probably avoid the eel in the mess hall, just to be safe.”

Caius pulled a tiny dagger from some secret spot on his person, and began to absently dig at the road grime embedded beneath his nails with its sharp tip, watching as a young lad clambered nimbly up the ropes that strung between masts, looking for all the word like a large monkey. “Don’t suppose we met properly, despite being packed together tighter than a whore’s schedule for the past few weeks. Name’s Dukas. Caius Dukas. You’re Imenry’s friend, right? You two have been thick as thieves this whole trip.” He lifted his gaze from the sailors activities and arched a brow at Brennan, a sly grin quirking his mouth.” Or is it more than that?”

He had no idea the exact nature of their relationship, only that they’d been nearly inseparable since this little merry band had set out from Amaranthine. They were of a similar age, and as far as Caius’ uninterested eye could tell, Brennan seemed a decent-enough looking fellow. It wouldn’t be any surprise if the two were involved somehow...but he’d never seen them share a tent.

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brennanwulfe
2012-04-10 09:40 pm UTC (link)

The talk about sickness was only making him feel more ill, and the man's goodnatured slap still reverberated through the sloshing contents of Brennan's stomach. He managed a wane smile at the man's joking, before trying to focus his mind elsewhere. That did not work that well, because as a habit he tended to let his mind wander wherever it wanted to, whenever it wanted to. And it kept wandering back to how sick he felt.

Luckily, the man, whose name turned out to be Caius Dukas, distracted him well enough on his own. Barely enough time for an introduction and already the man was asking personal questions. Brennan had an odd feeling that this was what it would feel like if he ever could meet himself. The thought made him laugh, truly laugh, although that worsened the roiling of his stomach. "No no no no no." He gasped out, and added another, "No," for good measure. The man's grin left it obvious what he had been hinting at.

Brennan bent over with his hands on his knees and breathed deeply through his mouth for a moment before he could talk again. "We've been best friends for as long as I can remember," He explained. Looking curiously up at the man, a rare thing for one as tall as Brennan, he added, "Why did you think that?" Like Caius seemed to be, he was upfront about what he wanted to know. Finally, his own sly smile quirked the corners of his mouth, "'Fraid of competition?" If he was - and Brennan was not about to try to control his friend's choice in men, just make sure they knew the price of hurting her - then Brennan was not his competition.

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caius_dukas
2012-04-25 05:39 am UTC (link)

Caius watched with an amused quirk to his lips as Brennan tried valiantly to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged, mildly surprised when he managed to hold it together. He hadn’t thought anyone could possibly have gotten greener than Brennan had been earlier, but wonders never ceased, it seemed. “Competition?” he echoed, lifting one brow sardonically as a smirk stretched his scars. “Boy, you’re about fifteen years and seventeen new positions away from being competition, no matter how pretty of a face you’ve got. Haven’t you ever heard?” Caius leaned his head in closer and dropped his voice into a loud whisper, as if he was imparting some grave secret. “Women love scars. Shit, I have to carry a stick when I head into town just to beat them all off.” He winked playfully at Brennan and chuckled.

Shaking his head as he straightened, Caius turned his attention away from Brennan’s sly grin and back to the slender knife in his hands. “Nah, kid...don’t get me wrong, if she comes scratching at my tent I ain’t turning her away. But I’m not barking up that tree.”

He squinted over at the taller man, still doubled over in an attempt to keep his breakfast in place, and pointed his dagger at him for emphasis. “Friends for a long time? So are you also from this mystical magical village of love-thy-neighbor she tells me about?” He wasn’t fishing for secrets, but he had to admit that Imenry’s description of village life had him very curious as to where exactly it was she’d grown up. Did places like that even exist in the world? Caius couldn’t shake his natural cynicism, and wondered what Brennan’s take on his home had been.

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brennanwulfe
2012-08-15 03:39 am UTC (link)

Brennan had to laugh at the other man's blunt humor. He was not the sort to easily take offense, so the slight barb in the joke did not detract from the overall enjoyment. Brennan answered with a joke of his own, "Knock a few of them my way, would you? At least until I gain a few more scars." Pulling his best contemplative expression, he asked, "Should I get one along my jaw?" Brennan rubbed his hand along his jaw as if trying to place where it would best go.

Joking aside, Brennan did take a moment to think about how to answer Caius's question. Finally, he smiled and rubbed his stomach to calm it down. "Yes, I'm from there, but we never had to love our neighbor. In fact there were a few that I would rather have booted off the mountain...however, we still all cared about each other, even the ones we might be angry at." He did miss it, and he knew that he often glorified it, but it was better to remember it as it actually was. Brennan looked out into a middle distance as he pressed his hand more firmly into his stomach, getting lost for a moment in memories.

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caius_dukas
2013-05-02 06:39 pm UTC (link)

Caius chuckled and gestured towards Brennan's chin with the point of his knife. "Right about there I'd say...but not too big. Any less stubble and people might mistake you for a woman."

He watched as the younger man's eyes lost their focus, and he gave Brennan a moment to ruminate. He knew how it went...how the sharper memories lost their edges with time, how everything gained a patina of nostalgia whether it was deserved or not. Time had a strange way of making saints out of even the unlikeliest of men.

"Sounds miserable...having to put up with some fuckwit just because there's no other option?" His lips curled at the prospect, and then he softened, realizing how harsh that probably sounded. Nobody liked to have their home insulted...Maker only knew how many barfights he'd gotten into with random Ferelden's over his mother country. Tevinter might have had some asnine traditions, and he hated and loved it in equal measures, but it was familiar. "But I suppose there's no place like home, eh?"

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