Rook immediately appeared scandalized by his own words, Fingers drawn to the edge of lips where he worried a nail between his teeth. Emmrich wasn't why he was angry and the last person he'd want to vent these frustrations on.
"I only meant..." Rook stopped nervously playing with his own hands to reach out and place his solidly over Emmrich's own. Looking at him with a gaze that spoke of a want for forgiveness he hasn't yet earned.
The touch helped. It was grounding, connecting, and reminded Emmrich of all of the other times that hand had been on him. Something here was deeply wrong, but it didn't mean everything was broken.
Emmrich nodded. "Please." An explanation could make this easier, or so he hoped. Perhaps there was some way to distance 'father' from 'my father', some way to cut the association that seemed to be the issue, but he needed more information before he was to sort that particular knot out.
He also, probably, needed continued physical contact to soothe his startled nerves.
"I-" He always stumbled on the words; he failed to talk about the pertinent topic of himself. It was easier, kinder even, to shove everything under the rug then to drag and dust everyone other.
Emmrich was going to hate him. Now, that everything would be out in the open, he would see someone who joined the Wardens as the last resort and find his company lacking. Might as well give him a good reason, Rook considered on a shake exhale.
"I never told you why or how I ended up with the Wardens because normally the rank and file tales in thieves and killers looking to get off the gallows and I..."
Rook swallowed as he found the words, "I happen to be one of them."
"I thought that might be the case. Not due to anything you've done or how you've acted, but due to the fact that you've never spoken about the Wardens the way Davrin does. You've never struck me as someone who aspired to join them."
Someone's past should not forever define them if they've made an attempt to change, and the man before him is admirable. Emmrich placed his other hand over Rook's, sandwiching his partner's hand.
"I've never judged you for it. I take people as I find them. But I feel like the strength of your reactions here means I must know what happened in your past. We cannot move past this if I don't understand."
"First Warden never exactly gave me something to speak fondly of in the first place."
Rook laughed. Only it was a hollow sound like it was just trying to fill space, or play for time. He held that hand like a lifeline.
"I killed my father."
There it was - just plainly said. Why he was on the edge of a noose; the reason he was jumpy and nervous on even the implications of Emmrich having any affinity.
Emmrich gave Rook's hand a squeeze and shook his head.
"I don't see a reason to apologize." Someone who had done something like that for heinous reasons would be spilling forth with excuses from the start, and between that and what Emmrich knows of Rook Emmrich is certain that Rook is no murderer.
"Why did you do it? What happened?" Emmrich does not have blood-free hands either. Rook was there when Emmrich freed the spirits so they could end Johanna, not to mention the countless Venatori and Antaam they've killed. There's a line. He does not think Rook crossed it.
"I've...told you that my family escaped the Blight when I was young?"
Escaped was a funny word—fled more like, with the clothes on their back and his mother and elder brother freshly burned before the Blight could take them further. Rook shuddered at the memory, grounded by Emmrich being here and his own fears of oblivion slipping away.
"Something broke in him," Rook confessed in a tired and almost far-off voice. "After my mother— well, he drank, and when he drank, he became a monster. When I wasn't there and off working to take the licks my sister, she—"
Words broke off with the choked noises of a man trying very hard and failing not to cry. Rook dug the heel of his palm into his face to stifle any wayward tears as he collected himself.
"I had barely turned nineteen, and when he was drunk one night, I didn't see the man that barely held us together to escape the Blight; I just saw a monster hitting my sister, and I— I was an animal after that."
It is not gratifying to be right when Rook is falling apart in front of him.
"You saw someone vulnerable being attacked by someone stronger, and intervened. You protected. That's not the actions of an animal."
Nor is it cause to be sentenced to death. Emmrich does not get angry easily, but there is a cold fury in the back of his mind at the people who would sentence a young man to die for such a thing. But that cannot be addressed right now, if ever, and Emmrich is a practical man.
"You and your sister deserved better, my dearest." He wanted to hug Rook, but wasn't sure it would be welcome right now. Sometimes the man was prickly about being vulnerable and getting comfort.
"But the shopkeeper... Her and others who make similar comments don't know what cruelties you've endured. They mean it as a compliment, somehow, as ignorant and misguided and jumping to assumptions it is, and we have to meet them at that place. I want this, Rook. If you're still, if this isn't enough to chase you off, the fact that we will get these comments and not just from Harding, then we need to separate the concept of your actual father from it."
"She doesn't want anything to do with me. What sort of brother is that?"
Rook let the tears come, only just long enough for him to choke them back down. Enough for it to feel cathartic enough to piece himself back together. — He hadn't even spoken Lyla's name in nearly a decade, so this felt like something burgeoning on the good.
"I—Emmrich..." Rook wanted so badly to fall into the other man's arms then and there had not the gripping fear or being not worth such a thing held him back. "You're the only good thing in my life, do you know that? Before you, the only thing I had to look forward to was another posting in the backends of nowhere and the first Warden yelling at me.
I'll take whatever anyone might say...I just need time, I guess."
The way Rook stumbled on Emmrich's name, with the questions, make it impossible for Emmrich to stay seated. If Rook pulled away so be it, but Emmrich got up and wrapped his arms around the man in case, holding him tight and close.
"Victims can react in strange ways. Many internalize that they deserve the abuse they receive because it's a comfort. It suggests that nothing will happen they don't deserve, that there's a line that won't be crossed even though lines are being crossed." It's why some mages wanted the Circles.
"And she doesn't know what she's missing. You bring such joy to my life, Rook. I cannot imagine it without you now that I have you in it. You make my days brighter." There was the shortest of pauses in which he contemplated going further and then gave in. He shouldn't avoid something that might help. "And my nights quite exciting."
"I miss him, sometimes," Rook remembered the man who carried him on his shoulders and told him stories before it all was stained ruddy black with the Blight. "Hurt can be a comfort when all you're fed is poison."
Rook was bitter about a lot. He never measured well as a Warden and hardly rated as much else. Who was he to kill gods, much less save another?
And then Emmrich, I'd hold him, and the world is much less loud. The gentle weight of those arms around him and the painful patience in the hesitation it took to get them there.
"Touch me..." Rook murmured into Emmrich's shoulder, pulling him closer. He didn't want to think about the past or hell, even the next ten seconds, if he could get those hands on him.
The issue isn't fully sorted out. It could cause problems again. On top of that, it's clear that Rook is carrying so much baggage regarding his family. But Rook is saying what he wants clearly for a change and Emmrich thinks it should be rewarded.
Emmrich splays the long fingers of one hand across Rook's back, rubbing it. He knows it's almost definitely not just a request for physical contact thanks to the context, which is why he glides his other hand down to Rook's waistband. It's the work of a half-second to untuck Rook's shirt and slide his hand up it and along the bare skin there.
"Anything and everything you want, love." It's the gentlest whisper.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I only meant..." Rook stopped nervously playing with his own hands to reach out and place his solidly over Emmrich's own. Looking at him with a gaze that spoke of a want for forgiveness he hasn't yet earned.
"Please just...let me explain."
no subject
Emmrich nodded. "Please." An explanation could make this easier, or so he hoped. Perhaps there was some way to distance 'father' from 'my father', some way to cut the association that seemed to be the issue, but he needed more information before he was to sort that particular knot out.
He also, probably, needed continued physical contact to soothe his startled nerves.
no subject
Emmrich was going to hate him. Now, that everything would be out in the open, he would see someone who joined the Wardens as the last resort and find his company lacking. Might as well give him a good reason, Rook considered on a shake exhale.
"I never told you why or how I ended up with the Wardens because normally the rank and file tales in thieves and killers looking to get off the gallows and I..."
Rook swallowed as he found the words, "I happen to be one of them."
no subject
"I thought that might be the case. Not due to anything you've done or how you've acted, but due to the fact that you've never spoken about the Wardens the way Davrin does. You've never struck me as someone who aspired to join them."
Someone's past should not forever define them if they've made an attempt to change, and the man before him is admirable. Emmrich placed his other hand over Rook's, sandwiching his partner's hand.
"I've never judged you for it. I take people as I find them. But I feel like the strength of your reactions here means I must know what happened in your past. We cannot move past this if I don't understand."
no subject
Rook laughed. Only it was a hollow sound like it was just trying to fill space, or play for time. He held that hand like a lifeline.
"I killed my father."
There it was - just plainly said. Why he was on the edge of a noose; the reason he was jumpy and nervous on even the implications of Emmrich having any affinity.
"Emmrich, I'm so sorry."
no subject
"I don't see a reason to apologize." Someone who had done something like that for heinous reasons would be spilling forth with excuses from the start, and between that and what Emmrich knows of Rook Emmrich is certain that Rook is no murderer.
"Why did you do it? What happened?" Emmrich does not have blood-free hands either. Rook was there when Emmrich freed the spirits so they could end Johanna, not to mention the countless Venatori and Antaam they've killed. There's a line. He does not think Rook crossed it.
no subject
Escaped was a funny word—fled more like, with the clothes on their back and his mother and elder brother freshly burned before the Blight could take them further. Rook shuddered at the memory, grounded by Emmrich being here and his own fears of oblivion slipping away.
"Something broke in him," Rook confessed in a tired and almost far-off voice. "After my mother— well, he drank, and when he drank, he became a monster. When I wasn't there and off working to take the licks my sister, she—"
Words broke off with the choked noises of a man trying very hard and failing not to cry. Rook dug the heel of his palm into his face to stifle any wayward tears as he collected himself.
"I had barely turned nineteen, and when he was drunk one night, I didn't see the man that barely held us together to escape the Blight; I just saw a monster hitting my sister, and I— I was an animal after that."
no subject
"You saw someone vulnerable being attacked by someone stronger, and intervened. You protected. That's not the actions of an animal."
Nor is it cause to be sentenced to death. Emmrich does not get angry easily, but there is a cold fury in the back of his mind at the people who would sentence a young man to die for such a thing. But that cannot be addressed right now, if ever, and Emmrich is a practical man.
"You and your sister deserved better, my dearest." He wanted to hug Rook, but wasn't sure it would be welcome right now. Sometimes the man was prickly about being vulnerable and getting comfort.
"But the shopkeeper... Her and others who make similar comments don't know what cruelties you've endured. They mean it as a compliment, somehow, as ignorant and misguided and jumping to assumptions it is, and we have to meet them at that place. I want this, Rook. If you're still, if this isn't enough to chase you off, the fact that we will get these comments and not just from Harding, then we need to separate the concept of your actual father from it."
no subject
Rook let the tears come, only just long enough for him to choke them back down. Enough for it to feel cathartic enough to piece himself back together. — He hadn't even spoken Lyla's name in nearly a decade, so this felt like something burgeoning on the good.
"I—Emmrich..." Rook wanted so badly to fall into the other man's arms then and there had not the gripping fear or being not worth such a thing held him back. "You're the only good thing in my life, do you know that? Before you, the only thing I had to look forward to was another posting in the backends of nowhere and the first Warden yelling at me.
I'll take whatever anyone might say...I just need time, I guess."
no subject
"Victims can react in strange ways. Many internalize that they deserve the abuse they receive because it's a comfort. It suggests that nothing will happen they don't deserve, that there's a line that won't be crossed even though lines are being crossed." It's why some mages wanted the Circles.
"And she doesn't know what she's missing. You bring such joy to my life, Rook. I cannot imagine it without you now that I have you in it. You make my days brighter." There was the shortest of pauses in which he contemplated going further and then gave in. He shouldn't avoid something that might help. "And my nights quite exciting."
no subject
Rook was bitter about a lot. He never measured well as a Warden and hardly rated as much else. Who was he to kill gods, much less save another?
And then Emmrich, I'd hold him, and the world is much less loud. The gentle weight of those arms around him and the painful patience in the hesitation it took to get them there.
"Touch me..." Rook murmured into Emmrich's shoulder, pulling him closer. He didn't want to think about the past or hell, even the next ten seconds, if he could get those hands on him.
no subject
Emmrich splays the long fingers of one hand across Rook's back, rubbing it. He knows it's almost definitely not just a request for physical contact thanks to the context, which is why he glides his other hand down to Rook's waistband. It's the work of a half-second to untuck Rook's shirt and slide his hand up it and along the bare skin there.
"Anything and everything you want, love." It's the gentlest whisper.