Cyril is happy that Sorrel is at least letting loose. As the First leans against him he moves his arm and wraps it around Sorrel. That puts them closer and also gives him the ability to better support Sorrel is he does end up falling over.
"Oh? I'd love to hear it," he says. His voice is low, meant just for Sorrel. He's smiling and his eyes shine just a bit. He hasn't been drinking himself, but he does hope that Sorrel is at least having a good time.
Made bold, Sorrel's smile softens, mind wandering, remembering...
...Well, it doesn't matter. He blinks, then tilts back a little, catching his balance clumsily against Cyril's arm. Ah! So that's what that was, then? Lovely. More than lovely.
"So, I'm thinking. It's like. Life, alright? You go through life, always wanting something, yeah? From the minute you're born, you always want something," This accompanied by a circular, expansive gesture, still smiling, trying to lead Cyril down this path by tipsy-tongued guile if not by logic, "Food, or love, or whatever. Right? But it's bullshit."
"I don't know," Cyril replies carefully. His attention is on Sorrel, and more importantly Sorrel's eyes and how breathtaking they are even in the firelight.
"I wouldn't say wanting something is always bullshit."
Sorrel huffs a laugh, looking away towards the fire, towards where Beleth is drinking something out of a wooden bowl, and laughing at what someone's just said to her. There's a glance exchanged, a visible language passed between them, before the moment breaks. But then Sorrel turns back to Cyril, all eye contact and winsome grins.
"Ah, but that's... because if you got enough to eat, you're not hungry, right? I-- I mean, it's like. Okay, so then, take you and me, for example, yeah?" He pauses, nodding along to see if Cyril is following along, "So, when we were kids. I would've killed to have you look at me halfway to the way you look at your Sam. I wanted you so bad! But then, nothing ever happened. And I kept wanting it, and then-- poof! All that.... All that-that..."
He stops a moment, confused, searching for a word. After a moment he gives up and sighs, then remembers his intention and turns back to Cyril again.
"...All that suffering. But, it's like, it's bullshit. It was never going to happen, never has, never will. And I do it to myself!" This, laughing, as if the joke were funny. He's tired, and it's warm and fuzzy here, leaning against Cyril in the firelight and the pleasant weight of liquor in his belly. His mouth keeps speaking, but his mind is wandering away, forgetting propriety and the carefully constructed lie of Sorrel's existence, "It's bullshit, wanting all the time, something you can never have. If I could just stop, everything would be so much easier. I could just be."
For a moment, Cyril feels as if the world has been pulled out from under him. His stomach falls, and his face falls with it, and he doesn't even bother to recover it quickly and put on a playful mask.
Cyril had wanted to love Sorrel too, but he had always seen the mage as off limits. That and his own infatuation with Merrick had tainted so much of his desires. He had felt so broken, and ruined, far too dirty to ever touch the Keeper's son.
"Sorrel..." he starts, but he doesn't know what to say to that, or to even begin to explain half of the things he feels or thinks. He's never been very good at being honest with his emotions.
"S'okay," He replies, placid, nearly unconcerned. In the morning, if he remembers this at all, it will be with a frantic, mortified guilt, but at the moment, Sorrel is calm, "You're not the only one, y'know? Nobody ever sees me. Like a secret."
And here he is, wearing Dirth'amen on his face. Lord of Secrets indeed, ha! He snorts at that, private laughter for a private joke. His eyes are closed, and he's halfway drowsing now, completely unconscious of Cyril's personal crisis.
"'Cept Bel, 'course. But that's just how she is, sees everything. M'so proud of her. She got out! I'm never gonna..."
"But, I do see you," Cyril said before he could stop himself. "Sorrel..." he starts again, but he feel like there's a hand gripping onto his throat stopping the words and making him choke.
It's the same hand that always stops him from saying things the way that he means, and guides him to pretend he can't take anything personal too seriously.
The only answer Cryil gets is a soft, formless sound, part-query, but mostly breath. Sorrel is more than merely half drowsing, now, with his head down on Cyril's shoulder, a warm limp weight: he's asleep.
Cyril takes a deep breath and feels almost relieved that Sorrel has passed out and lightly won't remember any of this conversation. Slowly, he reaches up to adjust Sorrel into a more comfortable position. A part of his chest still aches from what Sorrel had told him, and probably always will.
It wasn't that he didn't want Sorrel, it had just been so complicated with Sorrel's mother and his own complicated and twisted feelings. He smooths out Sorrel's hair and lets him rest against him for now. Eventually he'll have to be brought back to the Clan and left here. That thought hurts most of all.
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Date: 2016-11-04 02:40 am (UTC)"Oh? I'd love to hear it," he says. His voice is low, meant just for Sorrel. He's smiling and his eyes shine just a bit. He hasn't been drinking himself, but he does hope that Sorrel is at least having a good time.
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Date: 2016-11-04 02:54 am (UTC)...Well, it doesn't matter. He blinks, then tilts back a little, catching his balance clumsily against Cyril's arm. Ah! So that's what that was, then? Lovely. More than lovely.
"So, I'm thinking. It's like. Life, alright? You go through life, always wanting something, yeah? From the minute you're born, you always want something," This accompanied by a circular, expansive gesture, still smiling, trying to lead Cyril down this path by tipsy-tongued guile if not by logic, "Food, or love, or whatever. Right? But it's bullshit."
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Date: 2016-11-05 04:53 am (UTC)"I wouldn't say wanting something is always bullshit."
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Date: 2016-11-05 05:07 am (UTC)"Ah, but that's... because if you got enough to eat, you're not hungry, right? I-- I mean, it's like. Okay, so then, take you and me, for example, yeah?" He pauses, nodding along to see if Cyril is following along, "So, when we were kids. I would've killed to have you look at me halfway to the way you look at your Sam. I wanted you so bad! But then, nothing ever happened. And I kept wanting it, and then-- poof! All that.... All that-that..."
He stops a moment, confused, searching for a word. After a moment he gives up and sighs, then remembers his intention and turns back to Cyril again.
"...All that suffering. But, it's like, it's bullshit. It was never going to happen, never has, never will. And I do it to myself!" This, laughing, as if the joke were funny. He's tired, and it's warm and fuzzy here, leaning against Cyril in the firelight and the pleasant weight of liquor in his belly. His mouth keeps speaking, but his mind is wandering away, forgetting propriety and the carefully constructed lie of Sorrel's existence, "It's bullshit, wanting all the time, something you can never have. If I could just stop, everything would be so much easier. I could just be."
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Date: 2016-11-05 05:18 am (UTC)Cyril had wanted to love Sorrel too, but he had always seen the mage as off limits. That and his own infatuation with Merrick had tainted so much of his desires. He had felt so broken, and ruined, far too dirty to ever touch the Keeper's son.
"Sorrel..." he starts, but he doesn't know what to say to that, or to even begin to explain half of the things he feels or thinks. He's never been very good at being honest with his emotions.
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Date: 2016-11-05 05:26 am (UTC)And here he is, wearing Dirth'amen on his face. Lord of Secrets indeed, ha! He snorts at that, private laughter for a private joke. His eyes are closed, and he's halfway drowsing now, completely unconscious of Cyril's personal crisis.
"'Cept Bel, 'course. But that's just how she is, sees everything. M'so proud of her. She got out! I'm never gonna..."
no subject
Date: 2016-11-05 05:29 am (UTC)It's the same hand that always stops him from saying things the way that he means, and guides him to pretend he can't take anything personal too seriously.
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Date: 2016-11-05 06:18 am (UTC)And now Cyril, and his feelings, are alone.
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Date: 2016-11-05 06:37 am (UTC)It wasn't that he didn't want Sorrel, it had just been so complicated with Sorrel's mother and his own complicated and twisted feelings. He smooths out Sorrel's hair and lets him rest against him for now. Eventually he'll have to be brought back to the Clan and left here. That thought hurts most of all.