exsilium | oo2; anonymous text

Might surprise how much every word you choose tell about you. But then, it might not.

Keep talking.

There are gifted liars in this city. There are Men with insidious tongues who mean to deceive all that stand around them.

Only action speaks the truth when it comes to Men--or nothing at all.

[ Soft laughter. ]

Not really. [ Hey, Thorin. Remember this voice? ] Sometimes even actions can lie, da?

[ He doesn't sound nearly as confident as he always does. There's a broken note in his voice - well-hidden, but still obvious if you listen closely. ]

[

Some loud banging noises on Thorin's end as he shuts off the feed with his fist.

And then he's going to be seeking your ass out.]

[ He's not surprised that Thorin hung up, really.

Nikolai is in one of the alleyways to the North of the city. He's tucked himself under an awning (though his shirt is soaked and there's still blood on it and he obviously hasn't changed since the mission. There's a pile of cigarettes beside him and its obvious that he's been chainsmoking while typing on the network. ]

[It's not immediate (it may even take longer than it would have if he wasn't injured), but Thorin finds him. He almost wishes he didn't when he sees in him the same shirt he wore when all this happened, as a further reminder.

And the cigarettes bring back a certain pang he hasn't felt since the dregs of the body swap incident.

He storms up to him. And in a harsh demand:] What do you think you are doing?

[ Nikolai blinks. He's genuinely surprised that Thorin actually comes to find him, and he drags a hand through his hair, raindrops splattering over the shoulders of the shirt, causing it to stick to his skin even more. He blinks at Thorin for a long moment, cocking his head to the side as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

He should blow the smoke in Thorin's face; should piss him off, keep up the pretense. But Nikolai is too tired, so he turns his head away and exhales, keeps his gaze averted as he shrugs. ]

Sitting in this alley. Smoking. [ He glances over to Thorin for the briefest moment. ]

You shouldn't get cast wet. [ A little wry the words might be, but he's sincere about that. ]

[His temper rises when Nikolai turns his head away and won't look at him. Rather than understanding there was courtesy in the act, that he was keeping the smoke from blowing in his face, Thorin spears it to the wall as disrespect and a suspicious lack of forwardness. One ought to look at the person that was talking to them, especially a dwarf of his status.

He shifts to catch his gaze and ignores his advice about his broken arm; he's ignored everyone on that particular subject. The few things he has cooperated on is keeping his arm slung and tucked inside the breast of his tunic. Because of this, he can't wear his armor or most of his layers. To hunt Nikolai down, he left his fur behind in his haste, so the rain runs undeterred in rivulets beneath the rough cloth against his skin.]

You still think this is a joke? You say one thing and then do another, just to toy with me?

[His expression blackens like storm clouds, his teeth practically bared on the next part.] I command you to tell me what you meant by it.

[ The problem is that Nikolai doesn't care much about status. He knows that Thorin is a King, but that's not why he died to save him. Thorin is a living, breathing person; that's more than reason enough.

He slides his eyes over to him, and quirks his eyes up. ]

I am not one of your subjects. [ Shrugs. ] No more Kings or Princes left in my country, so your command, it means nothing to me.

[ If he's in a different mood, then those words would've sounded teasing. But now they're just flat, and Nikolai looks away again, flicking the ash of his cigarette on the ground. ]

And I don't know what you mean by 'it'.

[He is far too deep in his anger to react to a land without a king. He feels the dull, familiar burn of ineffectiveness: a birthright that was ripped from him over a hundred years ago and no longer meant anything to the world at large. His command did not mean much to anyone, at all; less to a place without dwarves. But even that secondary emotion was short-lived.

Thorin wants to reach for Nikolai the next time he turns his face away. He wants to grab him by the collar and make him look at him, and jerks forward to warn him one last time.]

My life, you miserable liar. [Then he shouts and his lips crack.] Why in Durin's name did you spare me and allow yourself to die?

Edited 2013-05-28 06:52 (UTC)

[ Nikolai wonders if the short man will shut up if he kisses him. He feels like it would, and maybe Nikolai should, because if Thorin keeps shouting about what Nikolai has done like that, the reputation he has spent months building up is going to crash and burn.

But he only sighs. He takes another drag of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground, grinding it dead with the sole of his shoe. Then it's kicked away to join the growing pile of cigarette butts on the other side of the alley. ]

Because you were still alive. [ He turns around, looking straight into Thorin's eyes. His smile is sad, edged with exhaustion, and he rubs his eyes. ] You were breathing. And your life is important. So I make sure you keep breathing. Simple as that.

[ It really is that simple, to Nikolai. It doesn't matter who he dies for. (Once, he died because it's literally too much trouble to keep living, especially if he gets a whole and hale body if he dies and is revived.)

He rubs at his mouth a little, tips his head backwards even as he keeps his eyes on Thorin. ]

Try not to tell everyone about it, da?

[For a moment, the sound of the rain seems significant--his mind perhaps reaching for something else to focus on so the words didn't sink too far.

He thinks of a hobbit, whom he dragged from his safe home and mistreated, doubted and berated, and that hobbit still risked everything to save him. How did it take over a hundred years for other races to finally care about dwarves? So many hard days after a dragon ripped his home from him and an army of orcs plundered the halls of his ancestors in Khazad-dûm. Those events taught him to hate for his people; to keep the fires of their shame burning inside his heart. He learned to rely on no one for help, and never prioritized anyone over his own.

Thorin didn't want to die, but he doesn't wish for this. He couldn't accept this softness. It wasn't just inconceivable, it physically hurt him.]

We are not kin. We are not even of the same world. [He never would have done the same for Nikolai--though he was not sure why that thought creates a small pang of regret.] My life does not benefit you at all. Do not think I will forget what you have done.

[He just ignores the request Nikolai makes for discretion because he wasn't planning on doing that, anyway.]

[ If Nikolai is only willing to die for people who are willing to do the same for him, he would've accomplished precisely nothing. His job is a thankless one; to go into the shadows, to be hated and fears, to never be able to have honest relationships or real happiness and all the while dipping his hands elbows-deep into blood and shame and horror and all that that normal, good people keep away from.

It's a job for people like him; people who looks at themselves in a mirror and doesn't see a person. Who sees a tool instead.

Now Thorin is placing importance into something Nikolai would've done for anyone, and Nikolai finds himself moving, crawling forward until he is looking deep into Thorin's eyes. ]

It means something to you. [ He cocks his head slightly to the side. ] You wouldn't have really died. Initiative would've brought you back. What I did- [ he pauses, and rubs a thumb across his own lip ] not that useful.

But it means something to you. Why?

[Bristling is the only reaction he has to Nikolai climbing so close. It was a small pool of people that he allowed inside the inner ring of his personal space, and Nikolai was not one of them--not even now. Though it was not just stubbornness that stops him from lashing out at Nikolai to remind him of his place.

Thorin stares back and his expression is thick stone, meant to deflect Nikolai from looking inside him.]

Why would someone wonder at the circumstances when a dishonest man defies his very nature and acts honorably?

[ Nikolai freezes. Just in that one moment, he freezes and stares at Thorin. Then he flips himself backwards, barely avoiding the pile of cigarette butts and leaning against the wall again. He draws up his legs and drops his head onto his knees, and there's a long moment when his shoulders simply shake.

He takes a deep breath.

And when sound comes, it's laughter. A high-pitched, rather hysterical sort of laugh. He glances over to Thorin before he shakes his head hard, shaking hands pulling out his pack and placing another cigarette in his mouth. ]

Honour. [ He takes a deep drag of the cigarette and lets go, glancing over to Thorin again before he turns his head up to stare at the awning. He can't see the sky; Nikolai doesn't know if he's glad about that or not. ]

It's been [ a soft laugh ] very, very, very long time since anyone said that word to me. [ He turns around, and his smile is crooked. ] It wasn't honour. More necessity. [ A shrug. ] Different things.

[Watching Nikolai crumple into himself and laugh like a heathen that has had too much ale twists his features, certainly. The veins in his normal arm are popping beneath his flesh, and his lower jaw is drawn tight, but beneath the acidic mantle of his hatred is something colder and more bitter.

Thorin is ashamed. This man is a bastard, a deceptive bottom-feeding snake, and in that battle, he proved himself superior. Nikolai may have died, but it guts him to suddenly understand that he did not have to. Instead Nikolai sacrificed himself (without reason) in order to save his life.

Almost as much as he despises Nikolai in this moment, Thorin resents himself for his own weakness. Not being strong enough to defend himself from simple Men; for jeopardizing everything that was important to him and his people. If he died in this city, the hope of his people would be lost. And he would've fallen if this Nikolai hadn't been there. And he didn't have a single obligation to do any of it.

It was more than his pride could bear.]

I have grown tired of your foolishness. [He pulls back like a thread had been cut.] And I assure you: we have no reason to talk to one another ever again.

[ It's ultimately what Nikolai is used to, and he's not surprised at the sudden disgust on Thorin's face. He doesn't save people for the sake of gratitude; he has never done that, but just because he's not shocked doesn't mean the cold blade already lodged inside his chest doesn't twist further, making him bleed from the inside with wounds that would never show outwardly.

Nikolai almost shakes. Almost. He only looks at Thorin with with dark eyes, tired eyes, because he's exhausted. Not merely of pretending, but of living, of his own mind that will not stop teasing him with sweetness.

(He remembers the taste of Anna's lips, the warmth of the baby whom he saved. He remembers Legolas, the blue of his eyes when Nikolai drags him out of the sea. He has saved people before, but they all disappear in the end, they all leave, and it's necessary because the path Nikolai walks - the path he has chosen - is one that is made for him alone. For him and bitterness and loneliness because there are no other companions who suited.

He knows the truth of his life, and he does not mourn or change it. But sometimes he comes across a possibility of something different, something better, and he feels his knees crumple as he reaches out and feels it escape his grasp.)

He looks at Thorin again, leaning back against the wall. His lips quirk up, but the smile is empty. Like his eyes. ]

Okay. [ He drags a hand through his hair, trying not to shudder. ] If you don't want to talk to me, then okay.

You are not obligated for anything. [ He catches Thorin's gaze. ] No need for honour, or promises, or payback. Nothing. You understand, da?

[Dwarves at large were not particularly known for their ability to pick up on emotional subtleties, not when they wore their own on their sleeves and waved them above their heads like bright, colorful war banners. Large personalities to compensate for their short statures.

And in his foul temper, Thorin was less inclined to stop and wonder at Nikolai's expression--or more importantly, why he was submitting to him without an argument or trying to further aggravate him, still. He might not know the man well (as well as he might wish to know someone that saved his life), but Nikolai never showed himself as someone that could leave a conversation without seizing the last word. ...Or perhaps Thorin was just reaching for more reasons to direct his anger outwards so he would not have the surplus energy to feel ashamed.

But Nikolai telling him that he was not obligated to act honorably, Thorin's reaction to that is visceral and beyond his reasoning or control. Much as he hates him, he owes Nikolai a warrior's debt, and Nikolai was refusing that--which was offensive and unspeakable in and of itself. His mind also interprets it as Nikolai seeing him as worthless, and too humiliated in his failure to fight against the UE soldiers to repay him properly. These words were the closest thing to actual spitting in his face that Thorin has ever encountered.

He snarls in his own language first--the start of something far more offensive than a King Under the Mountain would normally allow himself to say.]

Above all else, you are not permitted to tell me what I cannot do.

[ The thing is, Thorin keeps talking as if he has the authority to tell Nikolai what he is or he isn't permitted to do, and Nikolai has never listened to that. Not even from his own handler.

(Yuri knows by now that telling him that he should do something will almost definitely result in him doing the complete opposite; not because Nikolai is inherently disobedient, but because Yuri's orders were always to try to preserve Nikolai's life, to make him a little bit safer, but Nikolai has never really cared about such things.)

He looks at Thorin for another moment more before he takes a drag of his cigarette. Holding the smoke in his mouth, he tosses the stick away before he's moving, his hands clenching around Thorin's collar, practically throwing his entire weight against the Dwarf (while still on his knees) before he opens his mouth and lets the smoke cloud Thorin's face.

He holds that blue gaze with his own. ]

Stop. [ Softly. ] Save your breath and don't tell me what I am 'permitted' to do or not. [ He smiles slightly, his hands tightening on Thorin's collar. ] You have no authority over me. No one does; I do what I want.

And I will tell you this is what I do: I hold this debt - or whatever you call it - between us resolved. It doesn't matter. What you decide to do with it, your business.

[ He lets go, dropping back to his haunches. ]

Not mine.

[Because it wasn't agitating enough just being in close proximity of the smoke and watching Nikolai wolf his cigarettes down like his life depended on it. Thorin remembers the crawling feeling under his skin after Nikolai inhabited his body (his beard grew back before he shook off the nicotine withdrawal). And being too prideful to recoil as soon as Nikolai violated his personal space bubble brings all of that back.

Having the smoke blown free-form in his face causes him to cough. And coughing makes it hard to hear what Nikolai is saying, at first. Though he returns to the conversation when his free hand grips onto the hand clutching his collar. Trying to pull it away, but mostly ensuring that it does not come any closer to his neck.

Then Nikolai lets go and he finally steps back, more than ready to go at this point. He's already turning to do just that, but cannot leave the argument on Nikolai's final word, so he glares at him one last time.]

You should have thought of this before.

[ Nikolai lets him go. Watches him leave. And as Thorin approaches the opening of the alley, Nikolai can't help a final parting shot. ]

No thinking is involved when throwing myself in front of weapon. [ He chuckles at that, shifting until he slumps back with his back against the wall. ]

Never time to think about that.

[Hesitation flickers in his stride but doesn't stop him. He doesn't want to prolong this aggravating conversation any further, or give Nikolai the satisfaction of knowing that he has gotten under his skin for the hundredth time (as he seemed to know the way alarmingly well).

Thorin keeps going, cursing Nikolai in his head--all other Men from his homeland for good measure--as he storms back the way he came.]

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