"I can't always help it, you know," Churat said, eyes firmly on the tear he was mending. He always preferred it when someone ripped a hole where there wasn't a seam. Trying to get the patch to match as best as possible, trying to stitch it on as unobtrusively as possible, it was a challenge. One that he could focus on when other things were bothering him. "The talking. I try, but...." Sometimes it's not me doing the talking....
Think I ought to talk to him? Hmm?
No. No, he didn't, and he pressed his mouth firmly together, enough that his own fangs were biting at his skin a little, just to keep the nameless dark one quiet.
As if that will help.
"Sure you could help it," Rémy tossed off over his shoulder from in front of the wardrobe, where he was having a rummage for his most ornamental cape. Having to steer clear of fur limited him somewhat, but a lot could be done with fancy stitching and metallic thread. "You could keep your fool mouth shut and talk to them from inside your brain," he suggested. A snide smile etched his lips as he finally put his fingers on the cape he wanted and pulled it free. He shook it out and tossed it over the end of his bed, then began gathering his socks and shoes.
Of course, being civilized wouldn't occur to him. Churat was handy for chores on occasion, but he had no real status here, so why should Rémy bother?
Oh yes. Let me out. Let me talk to him... let me prove to him that there are some things you just can't help....
No. No no no no no no no.
Even if it was very, very bloody tempting, just then. Though he was more often than not a doormat, even to a lady, Churat did have a temper and he did dislike being talked down to. He just didn't often do anything about it. Looking up and over at Remy through a fringe of dark, messy hair, he said mildly, "Maybe you just don't listen very well, or you'd understand."
Yes. Keep that up, little kidling. Let's listen to what not-really-insults you can come up with next.
Oh, just shut up. You're not helping.
Rémy was pulling on his socks, aligning the seams smoothly and then wriggling his toes, and he lifted his head to look through the hole at the other Vrykola. "What am I to listen to?" he asked, his tone an amused drawl. "You blather all the time. If I listened to every word from out of your mouth, I'd not have the time to do anything else." Then he snickered and shook his head, getting up from his perch on the end of the bed to slide his feet into his shoes. Rémy had to be perfectly groomed and dressed at all times, even when he was just getting out and about to see if he could stir up some trouble.
Finally, dramatically, he shook out his cape and fastened it around his neck, then strode to the mirror. Perfect. Just barely, he restrained himself from the usual posturing and turning his head to observe all angles of his profile, since Churat was likely still watching. This holes-in-the-wall thing was fairly onerous, though he wouldn't say no to peering into the rooms of others and seeing what he could see once he was out of his room.
No. No no no no no no no.
Even if it was very, very bloody tempting, just then. Though he was more often than not a doormat, even to a lady, Churat did have a temper and he did dislike being talked down to. He just didn't often do anything about it. Looking up and over at Remy through a fringe of dark, messy hair, he said mildly, "Maybe you just don't listen very well, or you'd understand."
Yes. Keep that up, little kidling. Let's listen to what not-really-insults you can come up with next.
Oh, just shut up. You're not helping.
Rémy was pulling on his socks, aligning the seams smoothly and then wriggling his toes, and he lifted his head to look through the hole at the other Vrykola. "What am I to listen to?" he asked, his tone an amused drawl. "You blather all the time. If I listened to every word from out of your mouth, I'd not have the time to do anything else." Then he snickered and shook his head, getting up from his perch on the end of the bed to slide his feet into his shoes. Rémy had to be perfectly groomed and dressed at all times, even when he was just getting out and about to see if he could stir up some trouble.
Finally, dramatically, he shook out his cape and fastened it around his neck, then strode to the mirror. Perfect. Just barely, he restrained himself from the usual posturing and turning his head to observe all angles of his profile, since Churat was likely still watching. This holes-in-the-wall thing was fairly onerous, though he wouldn't say no to peering into the rooms of others and seeing what he could see once he was out of his room.
You are the most pompous, arrogant, self-absorbed fool I have ever met.
Mexecal's words, thankfully, didn't actually make it out of Churat's mouth, though he'd found himself with his mouth open to say them. The scathing shadow was suddenly very close to the front. He looked back down at his mending, letting Remy preen. Remy was good-looking enough to get away with preening, but that was just... a bit much.
Not even Pradhan preens that much.
Not even Garnet.
And they're both girls.
"I get the feeling you don't listen to much of anybody," was what he said, eyes firmly on his mending. "Chatty or not."
Oooo. Them's fightin' words.
When did all of you show up?
Oh, shut up, you're perfectly glad to see us instead of that one.
Well....
Rémy was incredibly arrogant, but at least he admitted it. That should count in his favor, right? He'd grown up spoiled rotten, and yet in his opinion he'd turned out just fine. It didn't bother him if Churat didn't think so.
He whirled, the cape fanning out behind him as he moved, approaching the hole between his and Churat's room and crouching down in front of it to look through. "Do you suppose we could save the encounter session?" he asked. "I'm ravenous... I'm just about to pop out to round up a bite." His gaze fell to what the other Vrykola was doing. "Say, I seem to have ripped my other shirt. Think you might want to trade me a little something for a nip later on, if I get lucky?" He grinned, his dimples showing and his gaze mischievous.
Churat was sorely tempted to just glower. He really did have a very good glower, very dark and threatening-looking. All he could muster, though, was a light glare that seemed more hang-dog than actually menacing. "If you get lucky?" he grumbled. "Of course you'll 'get lucky'." Remy usually did, damn him.
Oh gods food please food please yes.
You are disgusting.
Shut up, you're hungry, too!
I don't want food from him.
I don't care where it's from as long as it's not the horses.
"I'll think about it," Churat said aloud after a slightly uncomfortable pause while he listened to the shadows bicker, then had to blink himself back into focusing. "If you do, let me know somehow or another."
It was true that Rémy had a way of getting what he wanted a lot of the time. Not always, certainly, but being at the compound for the past couple of years had only honed his skills, if anything. He also knew that offering to trade blood for chores was a good lever with which to move Churat, because the other Vrykola sometimes had difficulty staying fed due to his peculiar nature. "You do that," he said archly when Churat said he'd think about it. Rémy didn't imagine that he'd have to think for very long.
He stood up and moved away from the hole, heading for his door. "Later, then," he tossed off from over his shoulder, anxious to see what might be going on elsewhere in the compound and to wheedle some sustenance out of somebody.
I hate lowering ourselves to that piece of filth.
I don't care I don't care as long as we eat!
Churat hated it, too. But what could he do? The lure of actual, human blood, shared with another Vrykola or not, was far too tempting. He watched Remy go through the new hole between their rooms, and through his fringe of dark, slightly-dirty hair. "Good-bye," he said, but so quietly that not even Remy might have heard it.
And good riddance, the darkest one muttered, and the rest, mercifully, went silent.
Mexecal's words, thankfully, didn't actually make it out of Churat's mouth, though he'd found himself with his mouth open to say them. The scathing shadow was suddenly very close to the front. He looked back down at his mending, letting Remy preen. Remy was good-looking enough to get away with preening, but that was just... a bit much.
Not even Pradhan preens that much.
Not even Garnet.
And they're both girls.
"I get the feeling you don't listen to much of anybody," was what he said, eyes firmly on his mending. "Chatty or not."
Oooo. Them's fightin' words.
When did all of you show up?
Oh, shut up, you're perfectly glad to see us instead of that one.
Well....
Rémy was incredibly arrogant, but at least he admitted it. That should count in his favor, right? He'd grown up spoiled rotten, and yet in his opinion he'd turned out just fine. It didn't bother him if Churat didn't think so.
He whirled, the cape fanning out behind him as he moved, approaching the hole between his and Churat's room and crouching down in front of it to look through. "Do you suppose we could save the encounter session?" he asked. "I'm ravenous... I'm just about to pop out to round up a bite." His gaze fell to what the other Vrykola was doing. "Say, I seem to have ripped my other shirt. Think you might want to trade me a little something for a nip later on, if I get lucky?" He grinned, his dimples showing and his gaze mischievous.
Churat was sorely tempted to just glower. He really did have a very good glower, very dark and threatening-looking. All he could muster, though, was a light glare that seemed more hang-dog than actually menacing. "If you get lucky?" he grumbled. "Of course you'll 'get lucky'." Remy usually did, damn him.
Oh gods food please food please yes.
You are disgusting.
Shut up, you're hungry, too!
I don't want food from him.
I don't care where it's from as long as it's not the horses.
"I'll think about it," Churat said aloud after a slightly uncomfortable pause while he listened to the shadows bicker, then had to blink himself back into focusing. "If you do, let me know somehow or another."
It was true that Rémy had a way of getting what he wanted a lot of the time. Not always, certainly, but being at the compound for the past couple of years had only honed his skills, if anything. He also knew that offering to trade blood for chores was a good lever with which to move Churat, because the other Vrykola sometimes had difficulty staying fed due to his peculiar nature. "You do that," he said archly when Churat said he'd think about it. Rémy didn't imagine that he'd have to think for very long.
He stood up and moved away from the hole, heading for his door. "Later, then," he tossed off from over his shoulder, anxious to see what might be going on elsewhere in the compound and to wheedle some sustenance out of somebody.
I hate lowering ourselves to that piece of filth.
I don't care I don't care as long as we eat!
Churat hated it, too. But what could he do? The lure of actual, human blood, shared with another Vrykola or not, was far too tempting. He watched Remy go through the new hole between their rooms, and through his fringe of dark, slightly-dirty hair. "Good-bye," he said, but so quietly that not even Remy might have heard it.
And good riddance, the darkest one muttered, and the rest, mercifully, went silent.