[ Kaspar finds he likes the color, how high he has to lift his arm and his gaze. But he decides to keep that, like most things, to himself. He's still holding his hand, not intimidated in the least when he asks-- ]
[van Zieks almost stumbles at that assessment, for how strikingly perceptive it is, and for how... strange it feels to think that no one ever expressed that sentiment to him before.]
I... [He looks away. Does he dislike being feared? He's always played the role. It was just as well people be afraid of him, it kept them at arms length. If he remained a solitary figure, no one else could be harmed by the tragedy of the van Zieks family. He couldn't lose anyone else if he had no one. That, and the fear of the Reaper reducing crime had always been why he'd maintained the act. But... Does that mean he liked it?
No, no of course it didn't. He hated it. He was miserable. Still.]
[ He'll let van Zieks take his hand back if he wants it, but Kaspar doesn't abandon it either. His patience is quiet and forgiving, comfortable. He doesn't even mind him not answering the question in words. Because understanding is here too, though Kaspar isn't one to linger on the past.
The worst part of standing guard in the grand halls or the streets had been frightened faces; a heavy feeling from the pit of his stomach. One he recieved punishment for soothing with funny faces. Beyond that, keeping his heart to himself kept their tragedies off his conscious.
Not that he thinks on any of that beyond the ghost of a familiar feeling. Because he is here in the moment and he likes holding hands. He reminds van Zieks with peaceful certainty-- ]
[It's true. There's no rumors of the Reaper, dispelled or not. No tragedy to befall anyone who gets close. He could start over. Be a different person. No one would know. But does he know how? They always say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And even though he knows the truth now, and the Reaper is gone... there's so much that can't be fixed.]
I'm not sure if I know how to be anything else. I think... maybe I lost some part of myself that had that capacity ten years ago. [Still.... he will keep up the handholding. It's discrete and comfortable enough he can not think TOO much about it.]
[ Kaspar keeps hold of his hand then, gentle as they go. The silence isn't too long, as if the small physical connection emboldens him. Still, his voice is still soft. ]
[ Kaspar is silent again, considering it. He isn't even sure which part van Zieks is asking about. He squeezes his hand, gently, admitting more before he thinks better of it. ]
... I don't, like it when people are scared of me either.
[Interesting. Van Zieks mulls this concept over, for a moment. He certainly doesn't enjoy being viewed as some sort of supernatural judge jury and executioner. But to be truly perceived as the person he is?
Does he even know what that would mean at this point? What parts are the Reaper, what parts are Barok van Zieks, and what part's are Barok van Zieks' grief?]
... The strength of character to be able to claim such a thing is admirable.
[ On the one hand, he doesn't really want to argue, and he knows van Zieks isn't doing it to be mean. On the other hand, he is still holding van Zieks' hand and... Kaspar realizes suddenly that the other man is actually arguing in favor of a compliment to him? Or at least, that's the conclusion Kaspar arrives at.
Any other words he was trying to prepare crumble to pieces. He's never been checkmated quite like that, brute forced into accepting praise. In the moment, he can't even decide how he feels about that! But it does resemble a soreness, the rare kind that he will need to poke at later when he's bored.
Stop making his ears red, they're already a little pink from the sun. Kaspar laughs suddenly, but it's the bright kind, soft around the edges as he tries to guide them both into his farm. ]
... you win, I have strength of character. And don't worry, Trahearne shouldn't be back yet.
[ Kaspar turns away then, keeping hold of his hand as long as he's allowed-- even as he holds the door for him.
Not that he can look at him when he informs the floor of personal.shit he didn't really plan on saying. It's clearly rote from somewhere, though he means the mostly borrowed words just the same. He even leaves out the lines that he's been fed to remain on the marriage registry but never agreed with: ]
... all of it--It takes time and practice. Forgiving all ignorances and trespasses. Finding what really matters to you now, accepting all weaknesses, strengths, and what cannot be changed.
[ Don't perceive him. ]
But it, does become easier, to hear yourself. And listen.
... I have no quarrel with Trahearne, but noted nevertheless.
[Wait, why would it be an issue??? There's nothing wrong with visiting the residence of a friend.
Unless.... Unless there's been a misunderstanding?? Has he missed a cue??? Are Kaspar's intentions more- No, no how could he assign such untoward behavior to his new friend!?!? Kaspar is not that kind of man, and for that matter, surely he isn't the sort of person who gives off the impression as being open to such a thing????
He drops Kaspar's hand in the midst of having an entirely internal crisis about this issue that only exists inside his own head. He brushes dust from the cuff on his jacket, absently.]
I... I will keep your advice in mind. [He only half heard it, really.]
[ First being just the two of them was good and now... it seems as though it isn't?
Kaspar finds it all a bit puzzling. The puzzle keeps him from feeling ignored now, though he will remember the feeling later. He was used to it, not being taken seriously or being misunderstood, though not quite as used to it after saying quite so much. It is a raw feeling, an unfortunate fabric choice on a hot day. At least, it isn't an active thought. But he doesn't believe van Zieks is keeping anything he said in mind at all, and part of him feels silly for saying so much or for hoping for anything more than that. In his own brand of stubbornness, his attention drifts now that van Zieks' has. Quieter, but still not uncomfortably so despite his clear verbal retreat, he still offers politely-- ]
... Tea?
[ No matter his answer, there is silence that follows from Kaspar, as he moves inside and leaves his guest to his own devices in the run down farm house. On the way by the table, Kaspar pulls out a dining chair for him, but he seems determined to calmly make it to the kitchen. Not that the open plan affords him more than illusionary privacy once he makes it there and distracts himself with tea and pancakes.
On instinct, he will make a cup and a plate for van Zieks because he does not feel like asking any more questions. ]
[He's british so of course he nods at the offer of tea.]
I'd be much obliged.
[He tries, in vain, to intuit something about Kaspar based on his living quarters, but of course, they haven't been here long, so... probably there isn't much he can work out. Feel free to correct me, Tin.
He's observant, sure, and trying to take a card out of the book of a certain acquaintance he wouldn't admit to having, despite having read all of his adventures published in Randst magazine. Don't worry about it.
[ In truth, there is very little yet, beyond the obvious and creative methods of securing leaks with floorboards from underneath tables or corners. And the plants that have already made their way decoratively over the television. Hints of warmth with flowers and it is surprisingly... clean. Far too clean for there not to have been effort made early.
Kaspar is gone for some time, though most of him is visible as he works. The batter, the whistle of the kettle, it's a wonder he manages so efficiently in such a run down kitchen. He preemptively works around their faults.
He returns with two plates pulled a few pancakes high. As he sets them on the table, each one gets a single word for his guest to choose-- ]
Lemon. Brown sugar.
[ Leaving again, he will be back with tea, store bought. The cups and small plates are slightly chipped, but they are clean. ]
[He was expecting tea, and then, maybe a few biscuits on the side. Given the time Kaspar was gone, he really should have figured something more was happening. But maybe he was a little distracted by mildly dissociating because he made a friend??? He wasn't expecting it to happen so quickly. He'd called Kaspar stupid and then Kaspar had asked to be friends anyway??? And he'd said yes??? Why did either of them do these things.
[ That comment almost surprises him as much as the pancakes did to poor van Zieks. Though they hardly know one another here, so it is less obvious save for the blink in his direction over his tea cup. The warm feeling makes it into his smile again. With that honesty and time spent alone in the kitchen, Kaspar doesn't cling to staying too upset about being ignored earlier. Though he didn't forget.
There is just food to discuss, to test the palate of those used to things grown and raised in the sun. And that is far more fun than serious talk. ]
[ Kaspar slides the syrup that has totally been on this table this whole time because the residents of this farm eat a lot of pancakes.
To the question, he hums softly as he nods and readies his own plate with some of both flavors of pancakes. There is no mention of the effort put into expanding from the recipe in the book. How he took the extra step of whisking egg whites to layer them in, or achieving the lemon flavor with fresh lemon zest and spice from the store or his forest wanderings. ]
... Prefer? [He's suddenly embarrassed to admit that he typically is so focused on his work that he gives tea very little thought, and the majority of the time whatever service is provided is simply decided by the staff. It's not as if he often takes tea with others.
But if he were to actually give it thought? Hm. His brow is creasing as he's clearly ruminating over it, his hands finding the convenient distraction of sampling the pancake.]
Smoken salmon and dill on dark bread. And scones with clotted cream and rose petal jam.
[A pause, as arriving at an answer allows his thoughts to come back to the moment.]
But these are quite good, Kaspar. The sharper flavor from the zest is an interesting contrast with the soft texture.
[ Salmon, dark bread, scones, clotted cream, jam-- Kaspar wonders at what some of those things even are. But the way van Zieks says it so easily, makes him hum with the energy of exciting and unknown things. It's a unique feeling, hungering for tastes he's never known.
He blinks at the comment though. More genuine surprise than most get from him. Many might be able to tell his alterations tasted better this way, but not the exact reason. He'd been beginning to think his sensitive palate was unique above ground.
Being ignored is now water beneath the bridge. One paved with compliments from someone who would not say it if he did not mean it. It isn't quite gratitude, but paired with being declared a good host it still hits him in the chest and has him smiling happily into his own plate of pancakes. There is a beat, casually enjoying his first bite before he speaks again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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... wouldn't you dislike that?
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I...
[He looks away. Does he dislike being feared? He's always played the role. It was just as well people be afraid of him, it kept them at arms length. If he remained a solitary figure, no one else could be harmed by the tragedy of the van Zieks family. He couldn't lose anyone else if he had no one. That, and the fear of the Reaper reducing crime had always been why he'd maintained the act. But... Does that mean he liked it?
No, no of course it didn't. He hated it. He was miserable. Still.]
I'm used to it.
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The worst part of standing guard in the grand halls or the streets had been frightened faces; a heavy feeling from the pit of his stomach. One he recieved punishment for soothing with funny faces. Beyond that, keeping his heart to himself kept their tragedies off his conscious.
Not that he thinks on any of that beyond the ghost of a familiar feeling. Because he is here in the moment and he likes holding hands. He reminds van Zieks with peaceful certainty-- ]
You needn't be, here, I don't think.
[ Not from him, at least, his smile says. ]
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I'm not sure if I know how to be anything else. I think... maybe I lost some part of myself that had that capacity ten years ago.
[Still.... he will keep up the handholding. It's discrete and comfortable enough he can not think TOO much about it.]
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Still, his voice is still soft. ]
... Is there any harm, in trying?
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[It's his instinct to say yes. But he knows that's not the case anymore.]
I suppose not.
[He doesn't mind the silences, really. It's weird how much he doesn't.]
How did you know?
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... I don't, like it when people are scared of me either.
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... I mean no offense by this, but I'm struggling to imagine someone being afraid of you, Mr. Kaspar.
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[ Kaspar clearly takes no offense to this. ]
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You prefer to come across as completely innocuous?
[Isn't it better to be at least a LITTLE intimidating???]
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I prefer to come across as the person I am.
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Does he even know what that would mean at this point? What parts are the Reaper, what parts are Barok van Zieks, and what part's are Barok van Zieks' grief?]
... The strength of character to be able to claim such a thing is admirable.
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... preferences may also be ideals, I think. But I would simply rather, be myself.
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[Sometimes you get so bogged down in other shit you couldn't simply "be yourself" even if you tried.]
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Any other words he was trying to prepare crumble to pieces. He's never been checkmated quite like that, brute forced into accepting praise. In the moment, he can't even decide how he feels about that! But it does resemble a soreness, the rare kind that he will need to poke at later when he's bored.
Stop making his ears red, they're already a little pink from the sun. Kaspar laughs suddenly, but it's the bright kind, soft around the edges as he tries to guide them both into his farm. ]
... you win, I have strength of character. And don't worry, Trahearne shouldn't be back yet.
[ Kaspar turns away then, keeping hold of his hand as long as he's allowed-- even as he holds the door for him.
Not that he can look at him when he informs the floor of personal.shit he didn't really plan on saying. It's clearly rote from somewhere, though he means the mostly borrowed words just the same. He even leaves out the lines that he's been fed to remain on the marriage registry but never agreed with: ]
... all of it--It takes time and practice. Forgiving all ignorances and trespasses. Finding what really matters to you now, accepting all weaknesses, strengths, and what cannot be changed.
[ Don't perceive him. ]
But it, does become easier, to hear yourself. And listen.
no subject
[Wait, why would it be an issue??? There's nothing wrong with visiting the residence of a friend.
Unless.... Unless there's been a misunderstanding?? Has he missed a cue??? Are Kaspar's intentions more- No, no how could he assign such untoward behavior to his new friend!?!? Kaspar is not that kind of man, and for that matter, surely he isn't the sort of person who gives off the impression as being open to such a thing????
He drops Kaspar's hand in the midst of having an entirely internal crisis about this issue that only exists inside his own head. He brushes dust from the cuff on his jacket, absently.]
I... I will keep your advice in mind. [He only half heard it, really.]
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Kaspar finds it all a bit puzzling. The puzzle keeps him from feeling ignored now, though he will remember the feeling later. He was used to it, not being taken seriously or being misunderstood, though not quite as used to it after saying quite so much. It is a raw feeling, an unfortunate fabric choice on a hot day. At least, it isn't an active thought. But he doesn't believe van Zieks is keeping anything he said in mind at all, and part of him feels silly for saying so much or for hoping for anything more than that. In his own brand of stubbornness, his attention drifts now that van Zieks' has. Quieter, but still not uncomfortably so despite his clear verbal retreat, he still offers politely-- ]
... Tea?
[ No matter his answer, there is silence that follows from Kaspar, as he moves inside and leaves his guest to his own devices in the run down farm house. On the way by the table, Kaspar pulls out a dining chair for him, but he seems determined to calmly make it to the kitchen. Not that the open plan affords him more than illusionary privacy once he makes it there and distracts himself with tea and pancakes.
On instinct, he will make a cup and a plate for van Zieks because he does not feel like asking any more questions. ]
no subject
I'd be much obliged.
[He tries, in vain, to intuit something about Kaspar based on his living quarters, but of course, they haven't been here long, so... probably there isn't much he can work out. Feel free to correct me, Tin.
He's observant, sure, and trying to take a card out of the book of a certain acquaintance he wouldn't admit to having, despite having read all of his adventures published in Randst magazine. Don't worry about it.
The pancakes will surprise him though.]
no subject
Kaspar is gone for some time, though most of him is visible as he works. The batter, the whistle of the kettle, it's a wonder he manages so efficiently in such a run down kitchen. He preemptively works around their faults.
He returns with two plates pulled a few pancakes high. As he sets them on the table, each one gets a single word for his guest to choose-- ]
Lemon. Brown sugar.
[ Leaving again, he will be back with tea, store bought. The cups and small plates are slightly chipped, but they are clean. ]
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Anyway, there's pancakes?? He's visibly surprised.]
I- Do you- [HE'S SO CAUGHT OFF GUARD. He can't say that wasn't necessary because that would be rude now that they're already made??]
That's... you're quite the host. I don't even know the first thing about baking.
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There is just food to discuss, to test the palate of those used to things grown and raised in the sun. And that is far more fun than serious talk. ]
... have you eaten them before?
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[That said, he's not going to be rude. He takes a lemon one.]
Is cooking something you enjoy?
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To the question, he hums softly as he nods and readies his own plate with some of both flavors of pancakes. There is no mention of the effort put into expanding from the recipe in the book. How he took the extra step of whisking egg whites to layer them in, or achieving the lemon flavor with fresh lemon zest and spice from the store or his forest wanderings. ]
What do you, prefer with tea?
no subject
... Prefer?
[He's suddenly embarrassed to admit that he typically is so focused on his work that he gives tea very little thought, and the majority of the time whatever service is provided is simply decided by the staff. It's not as if he often takes tea with others.
But if he were to actually give it thought? Hm. His brow is creasing as he's clearly ruminating over it, his hands finding the convenient distraction of sampling the pancake.]
Smoken salmon and dill on dark bread. And scones with clotted cream and rose petal jam.
[A pause, as arriving at an answer allows his thoughts to come back to the moment.]
But these are quite good, Kaspar. The sharper flavor from the zest is an interesting contrast with the soft texture.
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He blinks at the comment though. More genuine surprise than most get from him. Many might be able to tell his alterations tasted better this way, but not the exact reason. He'd been beginning to think his sensitive palate was unique above ground.
Being ignored is now water beneath the bridge. One paved with compliments from someone who would not say it if he did not mean it. It isn't quite gratitude, but paired with being declared a good host it still hits him in the chest and has him smiling happily into his own plate of pancakes. There is a beat, casually enjoying his first bite before he speaks again.
He probably means food: ]
... do you, have a favorite?
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Capping this offfff