((OOC: It’s from the skyward sword OST. Here it is on youtube
I think I recall it playing when Link arrives too late and Impa tells him off but it’s been a while since I played… In any case it’s one of my favorites.))
Corvin really didn’t like the Rufous talked, especially about the knights he looked up to so much. The irritation even showed up on his face, his brows pointing down and coming together in mild anger with a small scowl on his lips. “What does he mean, pretend to have freedom? Does he not understand what it means to be a knight? No one ever said anything about freedom, it’s about protecting those in need and making sure everyone lives safe, happy lives. Nothing could possibly be any better than that! I mean, yeah, it can be pretty rough, but that kind of comes with the job. Just means more respect to them for that!” he thought to himself. Rufous almost made it seem like Skyloft was a bad place to live, like no one was actually happy to live there. Corvin didn’t know if that true, and he really didn’t think it was, so it all just sounded like garbage to him. He loved Skyloft and everyone who lived there, even the jerks…
He was so caught up in that thought that it was only when Tacitus moved to pull up a seat that he snapped back to the situation at hand. His expression returned to normal, albeit slightly flustered and with maybe a hint of chagrin, as he took a seat, making sure that it was near Tacitus. He really, really didn’t want to be too far from him.
He sat and read Tacitus’ messages the best he could from his seat before looking back to Rufous for his response, though he made sure to avoid looking directly at his eyes. With his own squinty pair, he figured it would be pretty easy to do without looking disrespectful.
This air around them grew to weigh several tons at a moments notice. The moment his pen withdrew from the paper.
“To deny this fantastic opportunity—” Rufous retained his composure rather majestically, though there was a certain way that his brows lowered that darkened his eyes to threatening depths, the yellow of his iris sparked. There was no denial, he repeated to his own psyche silently as he distracted the bloodlust on his lips with something of equal hue within his glass. There was simply no denial! “— To obliterate your chance to see something beyond your current scope of visions, why, it would be a true loss. I would be forced to accept a simplified business proposition in turn for a broken window and you would not be able to expand your own repertoire with experience and skills.”
He set the spent glass away from himself, hovering its base over marked continents and a sprawled map that lay beneath the papers stacked neatly above it. Each was meticulously notated on, from what could be seen, each linked, and he gave it a fond, saddened sort of regard to it, as if to denote the lost opportunities physically, and drive his point further home. He took up his personal quill and set it to Tacitus’ paper right away, drawing a slow, deliberate shape around a few select letters in his name.
“You possess a lot of redeeming, interesting qualities within you— both of you— and most noticeably, tact.. which is with you down to your very name.” His tongue made a slight dash between ghost-white teeth, grazing them in thought as he broke into a wide grin, as oddly flirtatious as that came off as, “I believe you know what you need in your lives, permanent change or otherwise, I will not be cross in your decision. I am merely making a fine offer for you, a job opportunity not soon compared to by any other force. You could only progress upward through knowing me, and from there, you could become anything.” The fine black lines of ink tapered into something of a fine curl, deliberate and practiced, before he returned it to his home within the well and sat back in his chairs.
“If it would help you to decide further, I would be more than obliging to indulge in any questions you may have, or tell you of what I have seen and done. This was not meant to be an interrogation, after all, and I am rather partial to opening the air between us all.” His attention faltered to his nails, examining and raking his thumb over them idly. There was no sense in demanding an answer so quickly— he could manage SOME patience, for as good of a thing as he had sitting before him; some things were just worth the wait.
“Perhaps you both could even tell me what you have planned for yourself on Capital Rock, I am quite interested about what has you so defensive and yet so eager to sneak away from at night. I am not from here, after all, I know little of the interpersonal lives of those native, merely business and political. Indulge away.” And hopefully he would be met with a witty paragraph when he was through. He crossed his legs and got comfortable now ahead of time.
It still sounded too good to be true. Who rewarded someone with adventure for breaking something of theirs? He had goosebumps from just trying to figure out what this creep was thinking.
Since childhood he had been protective of his paper. It had always been his only way of communication that wasn’t flapping around like a seal, and even with as tedious and frustrating as it had been it was still his. It brought back memories of all the children who would take his things and write on them as Rufous drew shapes around his messy, bold lettering. His fingers twitched. Momo had always been around in those days to offer him a clean paper while reminding him of how much it sucked to be grounded.
Being grounded would be the least of his problems if he punched this guy.
'I'll work to pay off the window.' He wrote. Tacitus knew the change he had in his pockets could not buy even a stamina potion, let alone replace an expensive window. 'But you'll drop me off for school. Keep this between us.' He looked at Corvin tiredly, as if the second part was for not only Rufous, but for him as well.
((OOC: It’s from the skyward sword OST. Here it is on youtube
RED- I love you romantically
SALMON- I love you platonically
PINK- I have a crush on you
OLIVE- I used to love you but now I don’t
MAGENTA- I’m secretly in love with you
ORANGE- I don’t think you realise my feelings for you
BLACK- I want to have sex with you
GREY- I want to cuddle with you
SILVER- I don’t know how I feel about you
YELLOW- I want to be friends with you
NAVY- You’re my best friend
TEAL- You complete me
GREEN- I trust you with my life
EMERALD- I’d do anything for you
PURPLE- I’d spend my life with you
COBALT- I feel sad when you get hurt
AQUAMARINE- I’m terrified of losing you
WHITE- You scare me
TAUPE- I want you to die
BROWN- I want to kill you
AMBER- I like seeing you in pain
VERMILLION- I hope something horrible happens to you
MAROON- I hate you
PLUM- You are my enemy
PUCE- Life would be better without you
Corvin jumped and tried his best to stifle a yelp as the door was shut behind them. As a result, he ended up making a small squeak-like sound. He brought his hands up and together, just above his chest. His nerves were beginning to come undone the slightest bit more. His eyes, now wide enough to appear “normal” followed Rufous carefully. There was something about any time he’d get close to Tacitus, especially when he’d touch him, that Corvin didn’t like. Something more than the obvious, but it was a subtle thing that tugged at the very back of his mind.
“S-sorry, I can’t accept that,” he said in response to having the drinks offered. He tried his best to keep his tone firm, but it was obvious he was uneasy. He certainly wouldn’t sit, either, at least not as long as Tacitus remained standing. It seemed his room mate was the only source of confidence he had at the moment. His presence alone kept him from cowering on the floor and begging for mercy (although from what, he has yet to find out. he’s certain this guy is nothing but trouble…) “And, well…” he glanced over at Tacitus to see him making the writing-like gesture and decided to add onto it with his own voice. “You’re better off just giving him some paper and something to write with…” He remained silent on the question of how far they’ve been. He honestly thought it was kind of stupid, asking a couple of students if they ever ventured too far from Skyloft, and he saw little necessity in it.
It almost amused Rufous how stubbornly coarse teen boys tended to be, it almost made it seem like an age when he had been one— a young entrepreneur thrust into the world to make a name for himself, stubbornly only heeding his own advice. It paid off.. but then again he also had nobody in his way to cross, nor did he make an effort to break many things until he was capable of doing so with no repercussions.
He sit to work, shimmying out a stack of thick bristol paper and a quill, which he shuffled into a meticulous stack between his hands and set out between the glasses for the mute. “Apologies once more. You are rather vivacious for a mute, aren’t you? You wouldn’t even need words to command a presence, even if you had them.” He let out a playful sort of chuckle, one that would probably cut through glass if it had form, and would send beet-red wine spilling over his mahogany desk.
But oh the things he could ACCOMPLISH if he had this one on board, he mused. The fantastical obtaining of information, the stealth, the perfect relays, nobody would question that! For now he would need to keep that notion to the back of his mind, but there was that sort of glimmer in his gaze. The one that worked, tinkering away at his every breath, assuring himself that he would get what he wanted in the end— he always did. Rufous was not one to lose out on a good thing.
“It was a rhetorical question, by the way.” He muttered, pausing for a moment to tap his index finger to his lower lip while leaning into the back of his chair. Maybe if he looked hard enough then at Corvin he would break this nonchalant attitude he was trying to bear upon his petite shoulders before his partner; how duteous of him. It was clearly a facade though, and it wasn’t fooling anyone. “—The one about leaving, I was not born yesterday about you Capital folk. I know that once you are born there you have little chance of getting out, and that is one of the saddest fates one could ever hope to deal with. To never see the world, to never let yourself be known for what you are best for. You are carved a future on a steel tablet of destiny and forced to follow through, or made to conduct yourself within a strict knighthood semblance to even begin to PRETEND you have freedom— while sentencing yourself to a horde upon a surface you know little of when leaving. In fact, you hardly see that, if anything. Trust me, I really have heard it all before.” It seemed even nonchalant as he discussed it, his index finger tangled in a thick curl along his cheekbone while he thought out loud, sighing through his nose.
“Try the wine though, you won’t find it at your taverns. Live a little more than they let you.” He chuckled, “What I truly want to know is if you’d ever thought about getting away for a little while, maybe? Finding your own adventure, obtaining your own life experiences. I am not telling you you MUST follow my suggestions, but I would like if you give it even a moments thought and sincerity, whether or not you want to regard me with any decency whatsoever.” His glance was only averted from between them for a fleeting moment, when it cast itself upon the pocket with the rock, as if to regard it with the slightest of notice.
“And if you do hear me out, our interactions would be most pleasant, and there would be nothing between us in terms of.. Capital propriety. Our evening would end on a kind note and you would leave with a fulfilling promise of excitement and wealth, without the pain of loss and forbearance from officials, as I am well within my means for recruiting. Does this pique either of you?”
His smile lit up brilliantly, as if to seal his words. Declination was so far from his mind, it was practically nonexistent.
Maybe Tacitus couldn’t say words, and according to Rufous he didn’t need words, but it didn’t mean he did not have words to say. Right then he had so many colourful words that would burn so bad that Rufous would need a bucket of cold water stat to relieve the pain. Words that earned most Skyloftian children a bar of soap in their mouths until their little faces were swollen and dribbling with tears and words like 'if you lay a hand on Corvin I'll break you like peanut brittle'. In fact, Tacitus was temporarily consumed by more words as his fingers twitched anxiously for the paper stack that the man before him was shuffling and teasing him with. Only when it was passed over the table did he step forward to claim it in the most hard boiled manner possible. What was that supposed to mean? For a mute? Of course it was a question that would go unasked. Paper was far too precious and expensive to waste on small talk with a nut job.
It wasn’t as if this worthless stain had done a thing deserving of getting to know his name but it was how he began any conversation habitually. It was written large and slightly crooked, uppercase and gone over twice in ink so it would stand out better. Tacitus paused to listen to Rufous talk, and after a while of listening he pulled up a chair and sat. The guy was long winded and his feet were starting to hurt but he’d hear him out and stay passive so long as he had that note…actually, scratch that. so long as he had his freakshow entourage waiting outside of the cabin to protect him.
'So you're saying if we agree to let you take us on a field trip you'll give me the note back?'
He glanced back at Corvin with uncertainty. It honestly sounded too good to be true…there had to be a catch. There was always a catch.
'And if we refuse?'
What. What. WHAT? What just happened? Corvin wasn’t sure if he had just seen that, but was this guy… for real? Had he just kissed Tacitus on the hand? That seemed more than a bit off to him, and he became even more apprehensive of Rufous. He almost spoke out, figuring Tacitus disliked it very much, but it seemed he didn’t want to risk saying something dumb again.
Corvin shrunk momentarily under Tacitus’ gaze. ‘Yup, should have kept my mouth shut!’ he thought to himself before leaning toward Tacitus and standing on his tippy-toes to make sure the taller male could hear him. “S-sorry. I just didn’t want to aggravate him or something,” he whispered in response. “I say really stupid things when I’m scared,” he added quietly before returning to his normal posture. His voice was still shaky, though he had managed to control his quaking knees… sort of.
Unfortunately, he didn’t quite know Tacitus well enough to be able to fully discern what his last gesture had meant. He figured it meant something along the lines of, ‘leave this to me.’ Such bravery! Already, Corvin began to grow a strong sense of respect and trust for his room mate. “I guess I’ll just leave this to you then, huh?” His tone was quiet, but not completely hushed. Seemed a little bit more stable, even. However, he didn’t want to be left alone, so he followed him and this, as Corvin saw Rufous, untrustworthy slimeball.
No sooner had they entered the cabin, Rufous shut them in with a gentle thud, one with a heaviness that stirred even a piece of the broken mosaic to clatter to the deck on the outside, but the host remained colored all sorts of pleasant— even in the face of destruction of personal property and unnecessary discretion on his guests part! He’d been patient, he didn’t even raise his voice a decibel on a single beat! That in itself had to come as some form of comfort to these boys in comparison to most traders and bazaarmen, now why in the skies heavenly plane did they continue to be so hesitant. He would repress the delirious burning in his chest with a momentary tightening of the jabot.
“Excellent! Someone with integrity, quite an admirable trait. Sadly that is not a commodity that can be sold to the general populace, so consider yourself lucky to possess it.” He gave Tacitus a gentle, albeit flirtatious grazing of a ringed middle and index finger along his shoulder in passing, making transit to the massive desk at the far end of the room; centralized and certainly lived against, with scrolls and maps decorating it in oddly neat stacks, a lone bottle of fine liquor at the corner being his target to open, then ambling around alongside his chair behind it to search the desk for more glasses. “You’ll have a drink, won’t you both?” Come along and sit, I would like to show you something before I make proper arrangements. This will be quick and painless.”
(Though it has proven to be painful for a few in the past, casually omitted from his memory.)
The lantern-light seemed to ignite the amusement in his gaze as he glanced up at the two, scanning them over. Still the smaller boy was speaking for the other, the realization beginning to dawn on him rather quickly.
“Now boy, are you shy or do you have an assure I should accommodate you with? I hope you don’t find my asking too rude.” The glasses were set before him and properly filled, brow slightly quirked, attention then fluctuating over to Corvin, nodding to the chair before him, another in close proximity— close enough to be dragged, once he had set the glasses aside, which he then set off to do for them.
“Certainly we can have a mature discussion, regardless of your situation, can we not?” In that he wouldn’t go about babying them or talking circles from his intent. They would need to relax or this would only be a more difficult situation, in his opinion. “I am namely just curious about you Capitalers. Do humor me— how far from home have you two actually traveled?”
With their stage set, he took to his own seat with one leg crossed over the other, knit fingers. It was time to talk.
It wasn’t as if he locked the door but he might as well have. Tacitus wasn’t normally one to be claustrophobic, after all the very bedroom he had spent most of his life in was about two times smaller than where the lot of them were standing but he was nervous anyway. Luckily he was also good at hiding it. A combination of unkempt bangs and thick eyebrows just made him look pissed off all the time he guessed. It must have, on a count of everyone was always asking him why he was pissed off even when he wasn’t.
He didn’t turn his back on Rufous for more than a second, and when the man passed him he turned to face him, gruff and looking like he’d just smelt something nasty. The guy thought he had them wrapped around his gaudy fingers, didn’t he? Well he did, actually… Tacitus would do a lot for that damn rock as it was probably close to his last straw before being kicked out of the academy. But the fact that he looked so damn SMUG about it was really grinding his gears.
I’m not shy, fucker, I just can’t talk.
that’s what he would have said, but instead he just forced his hands to unclench so he could gesture like he was writing something.