[ Siegfried isn't sure what's heavier— Percival's words or the silence that falls between them right after. Though Siegfried usually finds no particular discomfort in silence, today, he wishes he didn't have to suffer it.
The way Percival answers him, in his very Percival way, as if Siegfried's quiet refusal doesn't mean anything more than politely turning down a second cup of coffee, makes his heart feel heavy. He knows Percival well enough to know that if he had felt courageous enough to ask him, he'd given it a lot of thought already. Percival didn't do anything on impulse.
And why can't Siegfried accept, exactly? As the seconds pass, he's finding it more and more difficult to keep this resolve. He doesn't accept because of a notion of noble comradery and friendship— one that is irrelevant here, in a land driven entirely by sexual intimacy. There'a a small part of him that still can't help but see it as inappropriate, but even that seems like such a foolish notion. They haven't been captain and vice-captain in over a decade. Neither of them have official ties to the knights of Feendrache anymore.
He sighs, a tinge of anger in his voice at the other's self-flagellation. ]
Cease this. You are not a fool. [ Not anymore than himself, anyway. He certainly feels like a fool for how easily Percival makes him regret his words, and how he feels the inexplicable urge to reassure him that doesn't actually want to reject him.
He has grown too soft.
Another few moments pass, and Siegfried sets his cup down with a firm clink. He shifts so that they're sitting closer, close enough that their legs touch, and he reaches out to take the other's wrist in his hand. ]
Why must you put me in such a difficult position by asking this? My resolve is not as strong as you might think, Percival.
[ He presses the other's knuckles to his lips, not yet moving, eyes closing in thought. ]
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The way Percival answers him, in his very Percival way, as if Siegfried's quiet refusal doesn't mean anything more than politely turning down a second cup of coffee, makes his heart feel heavy. He knows Percival well enough to know that if he had felt courageous enough to ask him, he'd given it a lot of thought already. Percival didn't do anything on impulse.
And why can't Siegfried accept, exactly? As the seconds pass, he's finding it more and more difficult to keep this resolve. He doesn't accept because of a notion of noble comradery and friendship— one that is irrelevant here, in a land driven entirely by sexual intimacy. There'a a small part of him that still can't help but see it as inappropriate, but even that seems like such a foolish notion. They haven't been captain and vice-captain in over a decade. Neither of them have official ties to the knights of Feendrache anymore.
He sighs, a tinge of anger in his voice at the other's self-flagellation. ]
Cease this. You are not a fool. [ Not anymore than himself, anyway. He certainly feels like a fool for how easily Percival makes him regret his words, and how he feels the inexplicable urge to reassure him that doesn't actually want to reject him.
He has grown too soft.
Another few moments pass, and Siegfried sets his cup down with a firm clink. He shifts so that they're sitting closer, close enough that their legs touch, and he reaches out to take the other's wrist in his hand. ]
Why must you put me in such a difficult position by asking this? My resolve is not as strong as you might think, Percival.
[ He presses the other's knuckles to his lips, not yet moving, eyes closing in thought. ]