Two Princes [Closed]

[Skoll]

‹Skoll›The threat of sunrise was inevitable and ever-present as the still blade of a guillotine. Its inevitability was just as cruel as it hung over the city skyline. The scent of paint hung in the air; amplified by the humidity. The barest outline had begun to take shape on the eastern side of the church. It was hardly the most pristine of canvases; weathered, despite the newer coats of paint. The darker shades were like hastily applied skin grafts; taking the shape of an ideal, but not yet complete. The image that formed, by degrees, was a wolf's head; hackles drawn back to reveal the inky gleam of its gums, in stark contrast to the pale gold of its fur. It gave way to bone; the wolf's muzzle elongating to reveal the structure of its skull. Between the skeletal, bared teeth was a snake. It was attached at the root of the beast's tongue; the vivid slash of pink turning the color of ash and then bleeding into a muted shade of charcoal. Its scales, however, were a riot of color; shaped to resemble stained glass. It wasn't finished. The majority was still an outline, in need of color. There was a pause, and the sudden sharp, abbreviated sound of an aerosol can as its trigger was compressed. He was, for the moment, entirely absorbed in his work, his footing sure on the top rung of the ladder that leaned precariously against the side of the building.

‹Kaspar› Silence reigned supreme inside the studio, Kaspar had on a set of headphones, comfortably positioned in one of the large leather chairs that sat in front of the sound board. His laptop was sat atop his thighs, the man listening to some tracks while he finished the last of his work for the evening. It was soundproofed, the studio, so he had no idea of any commotion until he reluctantly tugged off the headphones, saved his work and headed towards the exit. Flicking light switches as he went he became vaguely aware of a strange hissing, one that had him concerned that perhaps there was a gas leak or something, but the noise wasn't constant. The tall German paused in the reception area, frowning as he tried hard to place the sound. Why was it making him think of drunken nights in Berlin? In the abandoned, derelict buildings predominantly taken over by artis-... "FICK!" The word was spat, sharp and guttural as he shoved at the door, running outside to become witness to the abuse that was occurring to his building's side. It wasn't bad, that much was a relief, not some poorly tagged insult or crude phallic drawing but it was still vandalism, unasked for upon HIS Church, his holy place, his studio. "AUS! Down. Now." He snapped, as if speaking to a naughty puppy, his hand catching theleg of the ladder and giving an experimental shake of warning.

‹Skoll›The ladder was far from stable. Rust had begun to discolor the outside corners of the rungs, and one steel support had come undone over the years, causing it to list to the left. The shake only served to destablize it further, the metal giving voice to protest in a series of hollow rattles that rung faintly. A low, startled inhale greeted the irritated snap, one hand raising to offer a brief salute of his middle finger before his palm braced against the side of the building. He eyed the edge of the roof, tempted, for the space of a breath, to simply leap from the ladder to the slanted surface."Rassbora," he replied, his tone clipped. There was the barest hint of laughter all the same. "Make me."

‹Kaspar The response he received was largely to be expected from someone who set up and scaled ladders on the side of a rather public building to deface it. "Arschloch!" Kaspar hissed, kicking the steel capped toe of leather combat boots into the unstable ladder. "Make you? I'm not opposed to knocking you to the ground, waste of talent I guess but you're defacing my building so dashing your skull open on the sidewalk seems pretty fair to me." Of course, that wasn't entirely true, but he was in a mood to give the guy some hell. The man gave the ladder another precarious shake, even as his other hand reached to stabilise it somewhat. "Come down."

‹Skoll›The metal shuddered under the impact, the blow serving as a conduit for smaller vibrations that traveled upwards. He felt the shock of them through the soles of his shoes; a shuddering hum, as if he'd cupped his palm over an insect in its final throes. "Spoken like an only childe," he remarked dryly, before he coiled, leaping lightly and soundlessly onto the roof. He landed in a crouch, long, pale fingers gingerly reaching for the tattered strap of a backpack, easing it onto his shoulder a moment later. It sagged under the weight of its contents. "You must be Kaspar." He considered him for a moment, before reaching out to brace the toe of his shoe against the worn upper rung, applying just enough pressure that it swung away from him. "Or you can come up here."

‹Kaspar› Years ago he'd gone through a phase of being simultaneously petrified and thoroughly enthused by heights, reaching them and jumping from them, the feeling of your stomach jumping into your throat so you couldn't breathe until you landed down safely and could check your limbs were intact. He'd gotten over it. The jump had a string of curses leaving his lips, he knew the game was afoot and it was a matter of whether he intended to play or not. The remark caught his attention, however, brows raising. He didn't say child, but his accent was unique and perhaps it was the impact of it that altered the word. "Actually, i've got siblings, I know how to be a complete **** if I am in the mood." The man knew his name, but as Kaspar got a better look at his face, blonde and pretty, he didn't recognise him. "Come up there? To what end? Yeah... I'm Kaspar. Who the hell are you?" He kept hold of the ladder, carefully not to let the metal clatter onto him.

‹Skoll› "I could ask the same of you." His tone was wry, lips hazarding the barest curl. It wasn't quite a smile. Not yet. He considered him for a moment, secure in his hesitation. "Skoll." He paused. "Careful, 'prince.' You're not the only heir to the throne, these days." He scoffed a second later."If you come up here, I can kiss it better," he offered after a pause. "And not that you aren't an excellent role model, but I'd prefer to keep my skull intact."

‹Kaspar› The ladder now balanced back into place had lost its appeal, Kaspar folding his arms across his chest as he watched the smile on the other man's lips, half tempted to climb up there just to smack it off him. What a strange urge. He too took the silence to study him in return, unabashedly letting his eyes move over the man's frame, picking up what details he could and committing them to memory. When he spoke again it was with great effort that Kaspar kept his expression even, a mere raise of the brow the only hint that he understood what the name meant. Skoll, Eva's newest accident. His use of the time Prince was rather amusing, giving him cause to wonder quite what Eva had said of him, or perhaps it had been Lyonel piping up about Eva's golden boy, her little Prince That Could. "Why would I be interested in getting kisses from the runt of the litter, hmm? I'm not sure if you've noticed but I wear no crown, and I don't need a throne to rule." His sigh was on of resignation, arms dropping to his side with a shrug, "I'm going inside, I need a drink. Are you coming, arschloch? Or going to hang out on my roof all night acting like you're batman or some ****?”

Reply wasn't needed, frankly he didn't care to hear it, he figured Skoll was trying to get attention and wasn't likely to give up now he had it. Kaspar retreated back into the Church that housed his studio, with a disgruntled sound flicking on the lights and strolling back into the main studio in search of a bottle of whiskey.

‹‹Skoll› The reply startled a laugh from him - rich and warm as sunlight. There was an edge to the sound all the same; the sweetness spoiled by a darker timbre. The whisper of something bottled and left to age. It carried none of the mockery his namesake suggested. He waited until Kaspar had disappeared inside before carefully easing his arm into the opposite strap of his backpack, the metal cans clinking together faintly as he made his way down the ladder a rung at a time. He was slow to join him, one shoulder pressing into the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other. "Drinking alone?" His tongue clicked sharply, in a gently mocking reprimand.

‹Kaspar› ‹Kaspar›[/color]He found a tumbler, pouring a few fingers of the amber liquid into it before dropping himself into the leather couch that often occupied space within the studio, a comfortable worn leather three seater that felt like home. Skoll's arrival didn't warrant much response, Kaspar lifting the glass to his lips, taking a sip as his free hand found a temple to rub at. "I'm not alone, you are here. Can you drink?" The question was weighted, it wasn't so much "can you drink" as "what are you". He'd heard of this new acquisition, apparently Lyonel too had found himself a handsome young blonde as if they were collecting them. Matilda West had made some comment that echoed the sentiment in passing, receiving a teasing reminder from Lyonel that she was his favourite of the blondes, Kaspar getting a brief smirk shot his way. Farm visits were mostly enjoyable, the three West's were amusing to watch together when he managed to make time to see them.

‹Skoll› "It's a vouyeristic exercise, unfortunately." He said. He arched a brow at him, feigning disinterest in the probing nature of the question. It would have been considered rude, in some circles. There were some who were reluctant to discuss it, preferring to play their cards close to their chest. He fixed him with a look a second later, studying the way his fingers massaged his temple in slow circles, as if attempting to ward off a headache. One that had suddenly become flesh. His eyes narrowed briefly. No. I can't. The words weren't spoken, but they were clear enough all the same. "Sorry. Where are my manners?" He studied him in silence for a handful more seconds. "It's redundant to ask, but what's on your mind?"

‹Kaspar› "The fact that some **** tried to be cute and get my attention via vandalising a building i've poured my sweat and blood into... Other than that? Mm, the fact that I was ready to go home to my Wife, and Son before I was rudely interrupted by your charming self." He huffed, slumping further into his seat. "Come. Sit."

‹‹Skoll›"You think I'm cute." The words were delivered in barely more than a deadpan. He struggled, just briefly, to keep the grin that threatened at bay. It resolved itself into a lopsided thing; faintly crooked,though not entirely at Kaspar's expense. "Vandalism." His eyebrows threatened to retreat into his hairline. "You're showing your age." He shot him a skeptical look a split second later, before gingerly making his way further into the room. He settled into the vacant space a moment later, careful to leave a gap. "Doesn't explain the drinking."

‹Kaspar› He gave him another once over, trying to resist the urge to slap the smug, puckish look Skoll was trying to keep in check. "My age? Yes, I am clearly ancient. If you think i'm old, what are you, twelve?" He laughed, the sound brief and void of much genuine amusement. "I'm drinking because I can. What are YOU doing here? Is this how you introduce yourself to everyone or am I special?" He had in fact yet to introduce himself, the man knew his name and his position in regards to mortality but that was about it. "I'm Kaspar Wilhelm Grube, Hel if you prefer, this is my place and you, cutie, owe me." He tsked., his hand leaving his temple to stretch across his chest, presenting it to Skoll.

‹Skoll›It would have been easy to be baited, despite how obvious of an attempt it was. Instead, he offered a thin smile, fingers steepling together as his elbows came to rest across the tops of his thighs. "I'm curious," he began slowly, "about the kind of man who drinks before returning home to his wife." He lifted a hand, palm outwards, a breath later. It was a placating gesture, meant to ward off whatever offense the question may have caused. "Your church is one of the highest points in the city. It wasn't personal." A sudden, sharp noise escaped him; a muffled bark of laughter, devoid of humor. "Jesus." He extended his own hand a second later, offering a firm grip. "Do I?"

‹Kaspar› Kaspar returning the grip, a brief thing, lingering just long enough to make it have worth the effort in the first place. "You don't know me, you do not get to speculate on my private life. And as for highest points? That is a load of rubbish, yes it is relatively tall but nothing compared to the apartment buildings, or the lovely expanse of walls that make up West Towers. Wanted to get lineage attention? Why not do it to that? They have those window washing things go up and down occasionally, you could have hijacked it. Arschloch." He put the tumbler down, sliding it away, done with it for now. "I would buy it wasn't personal, if you didn't know who I was."

[Kaspar]

‹Skoll› "Observation isn't speculation. Don't flatter yourself. You aren't that fascinating, golden boy." His shoulders rose sharply in a shrug, the gesture nonchalant. He gave a slight shake of his head. "What exactly is it that you think I owe you?" He said after a moment, curious in spite of himself.

‹Kaspar› He let his gaze roam over the other man, taking his time, making him sit under his gaze in silence as he considered his options. "Either Eva or Lyonel told you about me, though it could have been Matilda." He mused, turning his body towards the man, arm snaking along the back of the couch as he leaned closer to get a better sense of him. "Young and cocky, seems they have a type. Pretty enough, could be handsome but that nose makes you look too naughty and your youth makes you seem soft. You don't want to, though." His voice was honey, laced with poison, easy to swallow and sweet on the tongue but with a deadly edge. Skoll wanted to play, and he wasn't utterly without his own arsenal when it came to games. He reached out abruptly, capturing a stray lock of Skoll's hair, twisting it between his fingertips. "You owe me. That's all you need to know, Skoll, i'll make sure you pay for it in due course." The hair was released to fall free of his fingertips, breaking that closeness by once more slumping back into his corner of the couch though that curious gaze hovered on his face, drifting to his mouth where it stayed. Kaspar held no interest in it really, but he was interested to see whether the man would be unnerved. "So... What is it you want? Really..."

‹Skoll› A grimace of discomfort countered his words. He was out of patience, the easy confidence slipping, replaced by the abrupt need to focus. He could feel the way Kaspar's words struggled to take root; to sow doubt and leave him feeling curiously off-kilter. It might have worked, if he'd been more open to suggestion. If he'd been more eager to please, quick to be swayed to the whims of another. As it was, he recoiled; shoving back against the invasive thoughts, tearing them down like blighted ivy. The sensation of Kaspar's fingers as they toyed with a strand of his hair briefly distracted him. Wouldn't you like to know? Out loud, however, his voice was even. Measured. "Out of party favors?"

‹Kaspar›"You call this a party? Maybe I should play nice and teach you a thing or two, hm? Nein, arschloch, I have a deep bag of tricks but I don't think we should go down this path. I believe Eva would encourage us to..." He sighed, reluctant to say it, "Behave." He scoffed, nudging his boot against the other man's foot, the lightest kick. "Even though you've already been awful, i'll rise above it and come back to you with your punishment. Tell me, Skoll, how is death treating you so far?"

<Skoll>He allowed his eyes to widen, just briefly. His expression was briefly fawning, a mockery of the starstruck expression of someone much more impressionable. “Would you?” He asked, injecting a breathlessly hopeful note to his voice. It was almost sincere, for a handful of seconds. “That would be so…” He continued, before abruptly slouching in his seat, shooting Kaspar a contemptuous look. “Unnecessary. I’ve been handling myself well. Somehow I doubt your brand of ‘help’ would be very sexy.” He snorted then. “Do you always do what you’re ‘expected’ to? Such a good boy. My word.” The kick had him straightening a moment later, foot drawing away. It was a subtle recoil, disguised as a disinterested shift. It wouldn’t do for Kaspar to consider it a victory. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

<Kaspar> While the initial widening of his eyes appeared genuine it was clear to Kaspar when his expression shifted once more into an over exaggerated farce, the false fawning and clear note of exasperated mockery designed to stir a negative reaction. Instead, Hel sat with an unaffected expression, brow raised and lips curved into a patient smile. “You’re cute when you’re pouting.” He snarked, dismissing the other man’s look. “Rarely, in fact, but it helps to pretend like you’re doing right… Helps you get away with it.” The response to the kick was noted, but not commented on out loud, he took it silently as a little win in disturbing the man’s cool, calm and collected. “You do that, get back to me. Does that mean you’re leaving? I would quite like to go home, I have people waiting on me, so… Can we get on with it? Are you done giving me grief and messing with my property like the little brother no one asked for? Can we play nice or am I going to have to take your toys and put you in the time out?”

He didn’t wait for the answer, the arm that rested behind him on the back of the couch falling over Skoll, wrapping tightly and tugging the man towards him so that he was effectively in a choke hold. Kas tugged the man back towards his chest, shifting hips so he could wrap one long leg over the other man’s, the other working it’s way around the other side of him to to do the same. He’d had a lot of grappling practice fighting with a brother who almost matched him physically though slightly shorter, and stockier, so maneuvering the man when caught off guard was a breeze.

<Skoll>The noise he made as Kaspar’s arm fell across his shoulders was as if he’d folded over a fist. It was a startled exhale - a muffled noise that gave way to a snarl of irritation. He responded in kind; driving his elbows back, hoping to deliver sharp blows to Kaspar’s chest and ribs. He struggled against the hold for a handful of seconds; attempting to brace himself against the armrest of the couch. “Piss off!” He protested weakly. The demand might have carried more weight if it wasn’t weak with the hoarse, strangled sounds of laughter that managed to escape his throat. It became immediately clear that breaking Kaspar’s hold was all but impossible, and so he went limp.

His chest rose and fell rapidly; heaving with shallow gasps for air that he didn’t need. “I give! I give.” He grumbled a moment later, gaze drifting to the ceiling. He reached down a moment later, delivering a sharp swat to Kaspar’s outer thigh. “Thought you had places to be, golden boy.”

<Kaspar>

The struggling Skoll managed to deliver a few good elbow jabs that had Kas wincing, hold threatening to weaken but he kept it together and ensured it was solid enough to keep the man locked against his chest. Skoll’s pathetic attempt at getting rid of him, of him telling him to piss off only managed to get a laugh from Kaspar, the first show of genuine amusement he’d managed that evening. Though the man slumped in his hold, seemingly giving up, Kaspar wasn’t ready to let him slip free just yet.

The swat to his thigh wasn’t an unwelcome gesture, his brow raising as he reluctantly released the man, he knew the rules and admitting defeat meant release eventually. Though he loosened his grip he merely adjusted his position, arms still loosely draped over Skoll as legs unwound to slump comfortably to couch or floor either side of him. “For you, shitlord? I’ve got time.”