holyknights | ♞ XI. written & action.

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♞ XI. written & action.

Is there a reason the village was empty the other day? [Everyone keeps talking about a "missing day", but that's not an answer. ...not that he expects a good one.] And something else— Where do you go when you want to get away from someone?

[He doesn't bother filtering that last part. Why bother? If he wants to ragequit his house, then dammit, he will.

Kind of like today. In order to get away from the general annoyance that is his house, he is reading quietly in the tea shop. Surely no one would expect to find him there, right?!]

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Whatever.

[He was going to talk to you... but he thinks he's changed his mind. :|]

[The fact is that Leo...can't tell at all. He remembers the last time they seemed to be on different wavelengths, and that had ended up with the obliteration of the biological Nightray line and well-- other things. Things hadn't been going well either lately, had it?

To be able to read minds would be convenient now.

All this, unsaid, and the only thing that warrants a reply is a simple:]

Come back soon.

[...ugh. Stupid servant. Elliot couldn't ignore his words if he tried.]

I will.

[And of course, Elliot keeps his word. He might not be back in time for dinner (in fact, he may have just waited until dinner would be over before coming back), but he certainly will be back. And when he gets back, he expects his place to be ready for him!! Because his servant shouldn't have to ask about things like that. He knew him at least that well, didn't he? At least, Elliot thinks so. ...he hopes so.]

[But Gil sets the table, it isn't his fault if--

--okay, even if Gil didn't, Leo would have made sure that Elliot's place isn't left empty. He's sunk into a more comfortable reading spot on the couch where he can see the door and...well, he can probably see the window on the opposite side of the room too, but Elliot Nightray didn't do Climbing Through Windows. Or at least Leo hopes that his master is no Casanova.

He's just reading. No, not really reading. Waiting, more like, if his tendency to glance up and at the door at any sudden noise is any indication. Vincent's probably asleep by now anyway.]

[Leo is one impatient servant! Elliot can't help but think that when he walks in through the front door and sees his servant reading on the couch. Of course, thanks to past experiences, Elliot knows that he could be doing much worse, so he keeps his mouth shut about it. Instead, he just walks on over, looking down at his servant.]

Did I miss anything?

[Everything: Gilbert fussing over Vincent at dinner, Jack waltzing in the house and such—]

[—but of course, he mentions none of that. Instead, he quirks a wary smile (hiding is something Leo doesn't have much ability in, and his lacklustre bangs now don't really help him in that case) as he lowers his book.]

Nothing noteworthy.

[There is no welcome back, no. Cautious, that's what he is.]

Hmm.

[It's a sound of acknowledgement—he didn't expect to hear anything more or anything less from his servant. He walks past him now, deciding to head to his room to get comfortable before having his late dinner.]

[If Leo doesn't want him to leave, he makes little indication of it. In fact, he'll just raise his book and sink further into the couch.

Your dinner's in the oven, Elliot!!]

[Fortunately, the kitchen is the next place he intends to go! ...after washing his hands in the bathroom, of course. Once he's made himself comfortable, he slips his gloves back on and heads to the kitchen to get his dinner, since servants never do the things that servants should do.]

[Your hand's injured, not crippled, Elliot. Besides, when has he ever acted like a servant?

...he's peering over the top of his book as Elliot goes about being productive, though.]

["I am a servant who is lazy because reasons," in other words. Elliot either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he's being watched, but it's unsurprising—he expects to be eating alone, after all.]

["Reasons" indeed. Don't choke on a bone, Elliot, there's fish for dinner tonight.

But it's been getting— difficult to talk, hasn't it? It has for Leo, at least.]

Did you find what you were looking for?

Maybe. [He doesn't know, he doesn't care, he just wants to eat his dinner! He makes his way into the kitchen to check if the food is still warm. If not... Well, there was the microwave. It wouldn't be the first time he used it.

...but that doesn't mean he likes it!!]

[Don't burn the house down.]

"Maybe"?

[He's in the kitchen, he can't hear you, Leo. Once the leftover food is warmed up (it's hotter than he meant for it to be, he's still not used to the damn thing), he takes it to the dining room so he can sit down and eat.]

[Except that the microwave's beeeeeep isn't an adequate answer to his question. Leo glances down at his book (page 563, he'd barely gone past twenty pages in the past half an hour— a dismal performance)...

......eh.

Let's try that again a little louder anyway.]

"Maybe"?

[...can he not eat in peace? And what's with this... talking between rooms?]

What?

[And aren't there better things to talk about?!]

[maybe because elliot's mug is too damn ugly]

You said "maybe".

[..........such a pain.]

Are you too good to talk to me face to face?

[He's not yelling, and he's probably not going to, but he doesn't mind being... exceptionally loud.]

[Point. But hey, he wasn't the one who walked past him like no one's business. Why does he have to be the one to move?]

[...would be what he'd say if he didn't care about this whole thing.

Man.]

[He shuffles to his feet and a moment later, there'll be a rather dispassionate servant lounging at the doorway. Happy?]

[Nope. Elliot glances up at him, and the frown on his face only grows wider.]

Can you not sit down at the same table, either?

You don't need to see my face to talk to me.

written;

written;

written; -> action;

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i'm tired of erasing re:

no subject

subject lines out of spite!!! I MEAN...

why can't you leave them blank...