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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Jun 17, 2015 19:53:11 GMT -5
The castle gardens were one of the few places that was always quiet. The large expanse of greenery, peppered here and there with benches and little cobblestone pathways, was large and thus easy for sound to get swallowed up. Tucked deep in the trees, the walls of greenery helps promote the idea of isolation. An empty right sleeve hung over the edge of the bench where Feliciano lay staring up at the sky. He was still in uniform, having just gotten off an extra-long shift of sentry-duty before wandering onto the grounds. Normally, the noble would return to his room directly after a shift on the wall. Today was such a nice day, and Feliciano wanted to stay out just a little longer before returning to the silence of his quarters.
That didn't mean he wanted to deal with people, though, so he made sure to chose a quiet corner of the expansive grounds. Normally he'd squirrel away in one of the more private gardens inside the castle itself, in one of the smaller courtyards, but Ludwig had taken to searching them from time to time. Feliciano couldn't hide near as well in such small areas when the king was hell-bent on hunting him down, after all. It was just as quiet here, anyway (even if the brunette could feel the stares along the way to his hide-a-hole).
Amber eyes eventually slip shut, a heavy sigh escaping the noble as he turns to lay on his left side, facing the back of the wooden bench. The air was warm despite the fact he was hidden in the shade of a large willow tree. His heart couldn't help but seize up a bit as the tickle of fabric brushed the back of his neck, where his sleeve tangled down his back; another unnecessary stark reminder of his missing arm. The scar tissue dully ached. All Feliciano wanted to do was sleep. The conditions were perfect for a siesta; he knew one wouldn't come. The noble could wish, though.
Soft crunches eventually reached Feliciano's ears. The brunette sighed again, not turning to face the person walking towards him. The lack of cobblestones made it difficult to distinguish who was approaching him. Those footsteps didn't sound like Ludwig, though. Feliciano could be grateful to that, at least. However, they weren't the sounds of animal steps, either. He curled in a little further on himself, staring listlessly at the smooth wooden boards encompassing his vision. "...What do you want, ve?" he eventually asked, voice quiet and moderately muffled by his position upon his side. Hopefully the other person would make a quick excuse and leave. Feliciano wanted to be left alone.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2015 17:34:29 GMT -5
One of Lovino's favorite things about working in the garden was just how easy it was to slack off. No one would notice the absence of a gardener, especially if he took care not to leave any tools lying around (though, even if he did, it gave the impression that he would return shortly to finish the job). It was an expansive property, as well, meaning he could wander just about anywhere within the gates and not look out of place. And with several good places to hide, it was a cinch to just disappear for a quick nap and be back up and working before anyone important notices he's falling behind. Having been in such a habit for so long, he was remarkably adept at not getting caught– that was, after all, the only way he'd get in trouble: being caught sleeping on the job.
That was what the gardener found himself doing at that moment. He had decided he had worked hard enough for the time being, and was meandering about looking for a place to rest under the pretense of surveying the garden, checking the stalks and stems to see that the plants didn't need his attention. Which, even if they did, they would be fine for an hour or so while he hid himself and slept. He had a place in mind, of course. It was a rule of his to never sleep in the same place twice, lest someone recognize a pattern in his absences and catch him in the act, so naturally he came up with a system of rotation for these unofficial breaks. This time, he was to occupy a bench tucked away in a corner of the garden, which was far enough out of the way that he was sure no one would wander far enough to find him. Strolling along, he finally made it to his hideaway, only to find, much to his dismay, that someone was already there.
His first reaction, was, of course, irritation. This was his napping spot, after all, and someone had been rude enough to snatch it up before he even had a chance to! The gardener had to take a moment to remind himself that, no, these gardens didn't belong to him. Anyone on palace grounds were free to walk through them at their leisure; by no means were they restricted to all but him, a lowly servant.
Anger simmered to mere disappointment, and was soon accompanied by a startling uncertainty. Where was he to go now? He could always find one of his other hiding places. Would it seem suspicious if he left now? Would the figure sprawled on the bench care? Who was he, anyway?
A closer inspection revealed a vacant sleeve that an arm once occupied, and this surprised the servant perhaps a little more than it should have. It was a good thing the sentry (for this was what Lovino recognized his uniform to be) wasn't facing him, or else he would be met with more staring than was considered polite. Vaguely, Lovino recalled overhearing gossip about one such sentry. Something about a tragic incident that handicapped a noble with high expectations, though Lovino was never interested enough in affairs that had no effect on him and so never looked into such a story.
"…What do you want, ve?"
The questioned startled the gardener half out of his wits, as he thought the sentry was sleeping. Luckily, he hadn't screamed, though his eyes did widen as he took a step or two back.
"…Nothing. I was just leaving." Lovino sounded perhaps a little too bitter for his own good, but he was tired from work, disappointed for being denied his intended place of rest, and caught off guard by the sudden question– the tone of which wasn't exactly polite itself. Nevertheless, he bit his tongue immediately after saying it, realizing too little too late that he could get in trouble for talking like that to a sentry. He was about to apologize for bothering the sentry (who looked like he had a lot on his mind) when his attention was grabbed by a familiar figure slinking through the branches in the trees. Lovino barely had identified the patchy, ashen fur and kinked tail before the creature prepared to jump…right onto the sentry down below.
Cibo, you little shit! Lovino thought as his heart skipped a beat. Don't you fucking dare!
Of course the cat would be here. He had caught on to Lovino's nap patterns fairly quickly, and it wasn't rare for him to meet him at his place and curl up on top of him– or surprise him with a sneak attack, as the feline was apparently going to do. Only the sentry on the bench wasn't Lovino. Did Cibo know, or was he just being a spiteful little rascal? The cat only had one eye (and Lovino was sure he made contact with it as he continued his silent imploring), but whether he recognized the boy on the bench or not, he leapt from his branch and landed square on the unsuspecting sentry's side while Lovino looked on, helpless to stop him.
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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Nov 22, 2015 17:47:50 GMT -5
More sounds of grass rustling beneath the voyeur's feet reached Feliciano's ears. He was pleased to have startled the jerk; serves the stranger right for coming over just to stare. He just wanted to lie here for a while. Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet? It's not like he's doing anything worth staring at--failing at sleeping despite the previously peaceful surroundings. The stranger couldn't even see his face from there. Irritation bubbled up in his chest. He was so sick of this. Of people treating him like some sort...some sort of laughing stock, a disgrace free to be stared at and ridiculed. That bitter reply to his question only fueled his fire. What right did this jerk have to sound so put-out when they were the one acting rude by approaching someone obviously desiring some privacy just to stare? None, that's what! He was the one whose privacy was being besmirched here. Feliciano was allowed to be upset by this unwelcome presence, and all the brunette done was ask what this entitled ass wanted! His body tensed even more, clenching his hand into a fist. Waspish words buzzed in his mouth. "What, disappointed you can't stare anymore?""Who even asked you to come over here and interrupt me?""Do you just like making an ass of yourself?""Stop staring at me! I'm a person, not a damn portrait!""Just...just leave me alone."They swarmed around, begging to be said. Instead, the noble bit his lip and stayed where he lay. Talking took too much effort. Nobody listened to him when he snapped at them, anyway--they just tried to be more "discreet" with their sick fascination. The voyer wasn't leaving like they said they would. Feliciano didn't hear footsteps. In fact, all he could catch was the breeze, a gentle sound accompanied by rustling branches and leaves. His tired exasperation flared up into something angrier once again; not that the brunette had done any decent job smothering it the first time. Did he have to tell this asshole to leave him alone before they'd actually go? Honestly, it was only a missing limb, what was so damn interesting about that? Screw this, he was not in the mood to deal with this shit, exhaustion be damned. With a sharp scowl on his face and rude retorts on his tongue, Feliciano began to shift upright. Just in time for something heavy to land bodily upon his right side. A startled swear slipped out of the noble, eyes widening in panic and pain. He tried to jerk away from whatever it was, left hand dropping to his hip for a weapon that wasn't there. However, his movement were too rushed for such a narrow space; a warbled yowl and sharp pinpricks piercing his side accompanied the sentry's own shocked shout as he lost his balance and crashed to the ground below. Another bolt of pain lanced through his scarred shoulder as he landed upon it. An illusionary flash of falling fire crossed his vision and the sentry's heart nearly stopped. He clawed himself into a sitting position, white-knuckled grip his stump, and pressed his back against the edge of the bench behind him. Wild amber eyes jumped around, attempting to spot who-what attacked him. Harsh breathing slowed minutely as Feliciano caught sight of pale fur daring away from him, the gardens still a peacefully welcome sight around him. There was a cat, looking rather worse for wear, pacing around a pair of worn shoes. It paused just long enough to hiss at him. A fleeting realization crossed the young man's mind--the animal must have tried to jump on him--but the brunette was too distracted to pay it much mind. He lifted his gaze to finally look at the voyeur who still lingered at the scene. The sight did nothing to calm his racing heart; an indescribable emotion swelled painfully in his chest, filling it past capacity and making it difficult to breathe. His body began to shake. This... this was impossible. Everyone would've known if he had survived the attack. Everything would be so different if at least someone else had escaped the fire. There's no way anyone would've kept his survival a secret from Feliciano-- Ludwig would've said something, even if it was supposed to be some "secret". His...friend couldn't keep something like this hidden, not from him. Not from him. Not after everything else the noble lost. ...Right? A low whine forced its way past the lump in his throat; a deep, wounded sound that only worsened the throbbing ache in his chest. Feliciano vaguely acknowledged that his grip on his stump had tightened to painful levels, but he couldn't bring himself to slacken his fingers. Was this...some sort of waking nightmare, his failures dragging themselves from the dark recesses of his mind and into the light of day? Did everyone lie to him? His father had never been the most doting parent, but he wouldn't leave his own flesh and blood to slowly collapse beneath the weight of his family's deaths. But how could Feliciano not know unless it was a secret kept from him? Amber eyes began to burn. "H-How--" His voice cracked on the words, so the brunette attempted to swallow before he tried again. "Who are... I-I--" Feliciano forced his eyes open--he couldn't remember letting them shut--and stared at those too-familiar green eyes. His words were weak, desperate. "Am I dreaming?"
@romatomato |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2016 17:32:00 GMT -5
That was that. The damage was done. The stupid cat had made his move, and there was nothing Lovino could do about it. With eyes wide in a blind panic, the servant boy darted forward in an attempt to remove the squalling animal from the horrified individual, but the creature was frightened and violent, so Lovino was reluctant to get too close for fear of having his arms lacerated. The gardener gave a sympathetic wince as the poor sentry fell from his resting place and hit the ground with a sickening THUMP. Having leapt from its unwilling perch, the cat ran and hid behind Lovino, hissing at the fallen sentry before darting off elsewhere, leaving the gardener alone to appease the anxious victim of his feline friend's antics– who now looked as though he had seen death itself, sitting upright, but as pale as a ghost. "I am so, so sorry!" he wailed, kneeling before the poor boy and cringing from both embarrassment and fear for the other. He looked like he might go into cardiac arrest. Lovino was terrified. He wasn't a doctor! How did one help someone who was having an anxiety attack? Frantically, his flailing hands ghosted inches over the trembling figure, unsure if contact would aid or harm, and if it would help, where it would be appropriate. "The cat isn't mine, I swear!" he insisted, as though the other would even listen, let alone pardon the gardener for any wrong he had caused for saying so. Suddenly, the sentry seized up, his gaze caught on the gardener's face. Lovino's panic heightened. Had he stopped breathing? "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, God, God…!" Eyes flitting from one place to another, they fell on just how tightly the sentry was gripping the area where his arm once was– and the servant remembered that was where he had landed. "Y-y-your arm… does it hurt?" he stuttered, face probably about as pale as the boy before him. He was grasping at straws, but he needed everything to be okay. It would not look good if the sentry died with him as the only witness. In desperation, he grabbed the sentry's hand and tried to pry it away from the injury, but an iron grip turned knuckles white as they only tightened, digging into flesh. Still, Lovino tried, wedging his own fingers between the sentry's and his stump. His free hand had gone to squeeze the other's shoulder, both to comfort him and to provide an anchor for better leverage. A pained sob drew Lovino's attention to the sentry's face. He was crying. "H-How– …Who are…"Something in those tear-filled amber eyes broke Lovino's heart. He couldn't say why it struck him so hard, but he could feel so strongly what must have been empathy– or something close to it. The sentry's gaze seemed stuck on Lovino's face. The servant didn't know why, but seeing as the other appeared to be calming down (however slightly), he let him stare, gazing right back with his brow creased in worry, and his mouth agape from alarm. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft in an attempt to comfort the other. He relinquished his grip on the other, though didn't move his hands away. The response was not an answer to alleviate his concerns, but another question. The sentry thought he was dreaming. Taken aback, Lovino chewed his lip, trying to slow his own heart rate and collect his thoughts before he attempted to give an answer. He was afraid that if he didn't choose his words carefully, the other might be sent into another anxiety attack. Keeping his voice quiet and level, he spoke slowly and clearly so that the other could take his time to sift through his words. "My name is Lovino," he began, answering the sentry's unfinished question from earlier. "I am the palace gardener. You are not dreaming– u-unless I'm having the same nightmare," he added, at risk of sounding a bit cliche. He paused, watching the other's expression to make sure his words were getting through. After a moment, the fear of the sentry having another episode moved him to ask the question: "Do you want me to go get someone?" He couldn't trust himself to take care of the psychologically wounded boy. He couldn't handle the stress. And from the way the sentry was looking at him, he suspected that he was only making things worse. Unless, of course, there was something that required immediate attention. "Are you hurt?" he asked, withdrawing slowly and slightly to check the other for further injury, reluctant to move too quickly for fear of startling the boy.
OOC:// Feliciano Vargas |
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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Feb 23, 2016 19:23:22 GMT -5
A sharp wail pierced through the air. Feliciano flinched away from the sound, pressing back against the edge of the bench in attempts to get away. His breath caught in his throat as that too-familiar face suddenly moved much, much closer. There was panic clear in those eyes, a mirror of his father's. The sight of that fear crushed the childish hope blooming in his chest with the force of falling stone--a collapsing building. Feliciano was oblivious to the other's words, static buzzing in his ears and muting out all sound. All he could do was stare, cataloging every similarity and every difference between his face and his father's. No scar at this jawline, which was otherwise cut the same. Same green eyes, but far more emotive than he was used to. Similar eyebrows, same hair color. The slope of his nose was softer, slightly more upturned. The same green eyes. No signs of age; the only wrinkles were between his eyebrows, same as his father. The. Same. Eyes. Something hot wrapped around his fingers. The heat of it burned. The sentry jolted at the touch, sucking in a desperate gasp of air. Color and clarity flooded back into his vision. Feliciano continued to try forcing air into his lungs. They struggled to work properly--Feliciano's body struggled; clutching desperately at his shoulder, attempting to keep that heat away from the throbbing injury. He was failing, though. His skin was on fire, and he couldn't breathe-- There was something--a voice?--but he couldn't make it out over the roar of fire in his ears. His father--not father someone else but they looked the same they were the same--was here. Was he attempting to save Feliciano? He shouldn't! There was no time. The fire was spreading, soon it'd be too late for either of them to get out and he had to get out he had to get out! Feliciano tried to warn him, he tried so hard, but no words would come out. His chest hurt and he still couldn't breathe! He had to say something, he had to tell his father everything while he had the chance. Because if he didn't, he would never be able to say these words again. His father would never hear them, not really. The sentry wasn't aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the tears in his eyes; until that face pulled away, gave them more space. A small breeze fluttered through the new space between the two, cool against flushed, sweat-slick skin. Fresh air devoid of smoke. That realization soothed some of the tension from Feliciano's frame. He breathed a little easier. With that oxygen, the heat began to dull against his flesh. The voyeur's hands still rested against his shoulder. Feliciano attempted to shrug them off, body curling away from that touch. He felt sick. His body trembled out of his control. And still, he couldn't tear his gaze away from those green eyes. It was to hot. "Are you okay?" the other brunette asked, voice distorted to Feliciano's ears; thankfully soft despite that. He managed a jerk of his head, not quite a proper shake "no". Hopefully it got his point across. Breathing was still difficult enough--he struggled against every instinct telling him to suck in as much air as quickly as possible--without trying to force words past the lump in his throat. Feliciano knew, now, that this wasn't his father. The disappointment managed to strangle him all the same, hearing the truth out loud. "You are not dreaming--u-unless I'm having the same nightmare." A sick whimper resonated in his chest; meant to be a laugh but so much more vulnerable than intended. The sentry finally managed to close his eyes, hot tears sliding down his cheeks. This certainly felt like a waking fucking nightmare. However, this clusterfuck was different from his usual dreams, so maybe this 'Lovino' was right. Lovino wouldn't want to be in his nightmares, anyway. The sentry wanted to tell him so, but how would he even start that sentence if he could speak? Good God, why did he have to have an episode here? Where people could just wander over and mock him he was at his lowest. At least he hadn't started screaming this time-- "Do you want me to go get someone?"Feliciano jerked away violently enough to painfully knock his shoulder into the bench at his back. "N-No!" he choked on the word, eyes wild with panic at the very idea. "N-No, no, I'm fine, I'm f-fine--" Feliciano's throat closed up on that last word, a pitiful croak. He dragged himself into a small ball, body shaking visibly. Muscles ached under their own tension; knuckles white and knees buried painfully in his ribs and tendons standing tall under taut skin. Feliciano wanted to vomit at the very idea of someone else seeing him like this. Someone who could tell his "superiors", tell Ludwig, about his latest episode; how he's not actually fine and take him off-duty. Rob him of what little routine and normalcy he had left in his life. Lock him in his room and leave him to rot, unfulfilled potential and a waste of space. Waste of the resources, the very oxygen used to keep him alive. His father would have earned his sword back by now. Would have begun training a new heir of his choosing, in case he couldn't spawn and train a true blood-heir of the Vargas family, a better replacement than the lackluster son he would've lost in the fires. His mother would have salvaged the family reputation and fortune both; rebuilt the villa as exact as if it'd never burnt, reclaimed lost territory and kept the vulturous rival nobles away. She would have mourned and moved on, the way Feliciano should but he can't. He can't. He needed his mother, needed his father like he needed the food he ate and the air he breathed. All Feliciano could do was sometimes drag himself out of his room, out of his bed, and wander like a fucking ghost. He couldn't live up to them; righteous father and regal mother. He couldn't honor them. His continued existence was an insult to their memories. Worth nothing more than ridicule and stares and mocking laughter. His ribs ached beneath the pressure of his knees. It was so hard to breathe. Tears traitorously stained his skin, body wracked with silent sobs. Feliciano needed to be fine. He needed everyone to think--to know that he was okay.
@romatomato |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2016 13:46:06 GMT -5
Lovino wasn’t sure just how he had landed himself in such a distressing situation. It was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time; another instance of his poor luck. Regardless, he was at a loss of what to do. No, the sentry was not okay. The shake of his head, however subtle, was enough to answer his question– well, that and his obviously panicked state, which was making Lovino more and more uneasy. Neither did he want Lovino to go get help. In fact, he was completely averse to the idea, if his violent reaction was any indication, yanking himself away from Lovino and curling up into a fetal position, protecting himself from a danger that could only be psychological in a place as serene as the Hearts' palace gardens. At least the wounded man was beginning to regain coherent thought, no longer paralyzed by whatever was flashing within his mind. It was some relief to Lovino, however small, when the other was at long last able to speak intelligible, albeit small sentences. It still didn't change the fact that he looked like death. "You need help," Lovino insisted, practically pleaded as he crept closer, wanting so desperately to calm the man, but so afraid that his attempts would only cause him to creep further into the dark abyss of his racing thoughts. "A-ah!" Suddenly remembering the waterskin he carried to keep him hydrated for all the time he spent outside, he fumbled to slip it off from around his shoulder and handed it to the sentry. "Here, try to take a drink," he suggested, hoping the feel of liquid against the other's lips would help him calm down. "You're not hurt, are you? You're going to be all right. Just please…let me help you."The other insisted he was fine, though Lovino knew the sentry was trying to convince himself more than the gardener trying to help him. The servant boy still wanted to believe him, but it was difficult when the trembling bundle of wrecked nerves was so tense, Lovino could feel his own muscles tighten. This man was a wreck. It was painful to even watch him, and yet, Lovino could not bring himself to look away. As he the sad, hollow, husk of a man crumbled into sobs before him, Lovino could feel his own emotions become distant, numbed as instinct urged him to remain the grounded voice of reason until the sentry could bring himself to his senses. Gone was the anger and irritation from their initial encounter, as was the anxiety from the following chaos. Somebody had to keep a level head, right? Placing a tender hand on the other man's shoulder, the gardener squeezed gently, massaging and speaking as soothingly as he could while all the while praying that the sentry received his good intentions with grace. "You said you're fine," he murmured, quietly, but sternly. "I'm going to believe you, but I need you to show me first. You're okay, right?"It was strange, now that Lovino was composed enough to think about it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he was sure he had seen the sentry before. His facial features were very familiar to the gardener, not just in a passing sense, but as if he'd seen them in context of a very close relationship. It was like being reunited with an old friend, yet not remembering their name or anything about them. And all the while, Lovino was sure he had never met this sentry in his entire life! Why would he, outside of brief passing? Nevertheless, his sympathy, his gentleness, the reason he remained at all rather than run off to get someone more qualified to help, was directly linked to the lingering feeling that he knew this man, and a great deal more than some gossip about his background. Where had he seen a face like his before? He wasn't quite sure. "If I can get you anything…" Lovino went on, watching intently the way the other's shoulders shook with each tearful hiccup, the labored breathing, the shudders that wracked his body, desperate for any sign of slowing down. "…you let me know, okay?"
OOC:// Feliciano Vargas |
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