impure_tale

I would very much like to understand as well, bello. You were gone, and I did not like that you were gone. I did not understand this thing.

Then come enjoy a little wine with me, and we shall discuss it at length.

Si, very well.

[The Marquis' door is different -- still made of very heavy wood, but lacking now the latches and slotted windows. He stands before it, open, awaiting a coming guest. He looks very much the same Marquis, if not dressed a little more finely. It was not to say that his clothing before was not of a formal style, but age and wear and tear had obviously frayed the overall image of him. These are new; their colors are unfaded.]

[Being on the same level, Pavi spotted the man immediately, and a small brief smile crossed his lips at the sight of the Marquis in his renewed clothing. A graduate, indeed. But the satisfaction, the - dare he say it - relief still made him nervous; he hadn't actively missed anyone since...well, it had been a long time. Pavi swallowed it down and made his way along the corridor, heels clicking.]

Marchese. You look better.

[If the Marquis took notice of any shift in the Pavi's demeanor, he did not show it. He's not surprised he was missed by at least one or two people? But he allows also that he was not gone long. As much as it might have fed some selfish part of him to have been gone longer and been missed more, the Admiral assured him he would want to be about at the end of the week.]

Paviche.

[He pushes the door open the rest of the way to allow him entry. The room inside is very much like his personal chambers back in La Coste, and this pleases him deeply. Lush, perhaps, for his time, but only in decor. The structure of these chambers is very much still that of a medieval chateau.]

[Pavi nods his thanks and steps inside, making no disguise of his curiosity as he looks around. Although it could be far more luxurious, of course, it certainly seems far more befitting to a man such as the Marquise, compared to his former rooms. Pavi smiles broadly over his shoulder.]

Much improved, si? You are deserving of this.

I am glad you think so, persimmon.

[He closes the door behind them. His chambers do have some walls dividing one or two ante-rooms, including a bath (he HAD to ask for indoor plumbing once he saw how nice it had been), but his bedroom area is divided only by a couple pillars from a sitting area and fireplace. It resembles the old one, only with finer furniture, and is a little larger. He has a decanter of wine -- not what Kirk gave him -- and two glasses waiting, already full, and he offers one to his guest.]

[Pavi wishes he could ask the man to choose one bizarre nickname and stick to it, but he can't; he'd hardly be one to talk, himself. They're still all better than the catalogue of abuse his siblings use.]

Grazie. [He accepts the glass and raises it in a small, somewhat theatrical toast before taking a sip. It's not what he's used to, but it's good. It occurs to him that he has no idea what to say or how to say it and that hasn't been an issue since his adolescence.]

Bottoms up. [The Marquis takes a sip from his own glass, himself. Much, much better wine than what his old room had -- that had been spirits from the asylum cellar, after all.] I forgot what real wine tasted like. [This is not to say that he hasn't had drinks in Pavi's room, but wine that he knows? Wine that he remembers, and savored? That's another story. There's such a huge difference.]

Then it is good that you have been so promoted, si? These small luxuries are a very terrible thing to forget. [There are things he's forgetting - missing - already. The experience of the opera. His brother's entertainingly impotent taunting. The feel of fresh skin on his scars. They fade so fast. By the month's end they might all be gone - but they're making port soon. He can deal with the latter, certainly. He'll have time.]

But things were not so poor even before then. [A small smile.] I do not think I thanked you for the use of your chambers during the last flood. Not suitably, anyhow.

Oh? [The grin he offers is actually agonising. Maybe the synthetic replacement his warden offered...no. A poor substitute.] And what would you think of as suitable thanks, Marchese? The Pavi is very curious.

[He's not one to have someone turn the situation around on him. This is his territory, and he brushes past that question with calculation.] Did you enjoy our liasons in that time, Paviche?

[And it actually turns out that hearing his own full name actually puts him more off-kilter than the Marquis' nicknames. Pavi traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth for the barest second, drawing a deep breath through his nose so as not to open his mouth and let anything stupid fall out.]

Is this thing not obvious? [But he knows he isn't going to get off that easily.] Yes. Of course.

I am not one for riddles and unspoken things, pet -- this is something you will learn of me if you have not already. [Besides, he hadn't had sex since October; of course he doesn't mind reliving the event.]

Si. I am learning this. [Pavi's own appreciation of riddles and unspoken things varies wildly, just as much as his appreciation of everything else. Right now it sounds really, really nice, though. He takes a sip of wine but it doesn't do much for the dryness in his throat.] About what would you like to speak, then?

I am -- [He rolls the glass in his hand, watching the deep liquid shift and tremble with that movement] -- grateful that you would welcome my company, much less my presence in your bed. That is a silly, self-conscious response on my part, the endearments of someone much younger and less certain of themselves than I am. As I told you, it had been long for me. Very long. [He takes another sip.] That you were concerned in my passing is -- warming, to say the least. I write about monsters, predators, beasts in fine clothing. I do not write about loneliness.

[For a long few moments, Pavi says nothing. For someone who's just said they have no interest in riddles, the Marquis' wording seems ludicrously circumspect. As for beasts in fine clothing, well. When the Marquis had once said that Pavi's world was something he might have written about, those words stuck with him.]

Naturally, why would you write of this? I could not imagine a less worthy subject.

Then you are too young to have truly suffered from it, and I wonder what might have happened had I stayed away longer. [He says this plainly, and with a kind of firmness that is not uncommon for him. He does not avoid eye contact; his tone of voice does not turn softer to make the words easier on the ear.] You are very postured. You make your home in massive luxury, saturated in finery and color. You wear a face that is not your own. I must either wonder whether what lies beneath is something that shames you or whether what lies beneath is simply incomplete.

[Pavi stares at him as if he's been slapped. Nobody has ever spoken to him in this way, never...judged him. Nobody back home would ever dare. He is a Largo; an heir to the world's most powerful corporation. You just...wouldn't. And from anyone else Pavi would be tempted to channel his older brother for a few seconds just to shut up the offending party, but this is the fucking Marquis de Sade and he can't.]

In... [He feels his throat freezing. No. No. His smile is rigid.] Incomplete, Marchese? I am not a child, and I do not have anything that shames me.

[He's smart to mark the strain in that smile. He's seen it before from others.] I would welcome knowing you either way, Paviche. [He says this seriously.] And I do not smile when I am unhappy, pet. If you are displeased then say so.

Displeased? No. Why would the Pavi be displeased? [He takes a long, fortifying sip of wine, nonetheless.] The mask...my face, it is...some would find it ugly, si? It is not what it once was. [A careful shrug.] That is all.

There are many ugly things in the world, dumpling, but beauty fades. Always. [He raises his glass as though in toast.] However, the older a man becomes, the wiser, the less attractive, and thereby the more successful. I'm a shadow of the beauty I was in my youth, not even that. But I can make anyone want me if I so desired.

[Pavi gives him a sly look.] You are fishing for compliments, Marchese, si? You can make everyone want you because you are still extremely beautiful. If you think that age makes a man ugly then you are not as wise as you think.

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