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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 10, 2011 16:47:55 GMT -5
Francis hadn't been sure if the mansion they had been approaching was his, or if the servants suddenly rushing to tend to him were his - he was drifting out. All he knew was that he trusted Arthur to take them somewhere safe.
He finally surrendered to unconsciousness just before Arthur handed him over. When he stirred and opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a very familiar canopy veiling a very familiar ceiling. He knew he should not move right away, and so only swept his gaze around his surroundings.
His room again. His bed. His carpets. His belongings. Just as he was about to sigh in relief, he recalled the most important thing and bolted upright.
Francis regretted it as soon as his head spun.
"Arthur!"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 10, 2011 17:33:37 GMT -5
After Arthur had returned, he had personally shushed the maids and servants away and tended to the male himself, though he was sure at least one of the maids was keeping an eye on him. At this point, he couldn't care less.
Like hands that had done this thousands of times before, he mops up the other's chest, clearing away the blood and aiding the wound in clotting. Then he applied a light disinfectant, practically amazed Francis didn't wake up. Then he gently applied bandaging onto him, patching him up and even dressing the other in a new shirt, since the one he was wearing would've been blood-soaked. He would've just left him bare chested but it had been freezing outside and no doubt he'd be cold, and it wouldn't help to restrict circulation.
As he finishes, he sits back and looks down at the other's almost content expression, and can't help but let out a tired sigh. The Noble looks rather much better when he appears that innocent, rather than making seductive inferences all the time, or that lustful glint in his eye. When he'd been half dead the seduction had been simple compassion, and the lustful glint had just been playful, even if childish.
He kind of preferred that side of him. It almost disgusted Arthur to think this man had just latched himself onto him, obsessed with him. It was pathetic and a little maddening -- who the heck would even want to do that with him? The only time it had happened in his life was with someone who he practically raised with a child -- and even he went off and left him. Not to mention it was technically Arthur's fault Francis got injured like this.
He needed to just leave and save himself the hassle of the man hurting himself and even him if he allowed himself to soften up to him. He stands up, doesn't bother looking back, and leaves Francis to the maids and servants. He's sick of this.
Well, that's until he nearly walks into the cabinet right outside the older male's bedroom. And there he sees bottle upon bottle of some of the most valuable and alcoholic wine that he knows about in the whole of Granor.
Before Arthur's quite aware of what he's doing, he's opened it and taken one for himself -- before screw this crap, he needs a drink. It doesn't take him long to down a whole bottle at all.
Which is why when Francis awakes in the early hours of the morning, he'll find Arthur slumped and curled up on himself, clutching tightly at the large bottle, on the floor somewhere near the door. He sniffles, and sobs quietly to himself - half induced in a state of sleep and blind drunkenness.
"H-Hn..."
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 10, 2011 18:10:12 GMT -5
The gentle clink of of glass turned Francis attention by the liquor cabinet in his bedchamber. In what little light that filtered through the curtains, he spied a dark, human-sized ball shifting. Recognizing Arthur even in the dark, Francis heaved himself up to his feet, ignoring his pounding head and sore muscles.
He staggered toward Arthur, growing worried when he heard the sniffling. Was Arthur...crying?
"Shh," he murmured, fumbling in the dark until he found Arthur's head. He brushed Arthur's hair from his face, finding his own fingertips wet. "Shh, it's all right."
Francis exhaled deeply, steeling himself, then pulled Arthur up to his feet with all his strength. Supporting the pirate made the bed, only a few paces away, seem like a cross-country march. He gasped as he was finally able to drop Arthur on the bed, panting slightly. With a sigh, he pried the bottle from Arthur's hand, depositing it on the nightstand, and crawled into the bed beside the pirate.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 10, 2011 18:19:42 GMT -5
Arthur seemed utterly unresponsive and numb to the actions of the other male, right until he felt the bottle prized from the gasps. This seemed to have a relenting effect on him, and he immediately burst into sobs, trying desperately to get the bottle back. He's trembling.
"N-No--" He cries, attempting to crawl over Francis to reach the bottle. His expression is childish and distraught -- and in the time he's been drunk, he's managed to remove himself of his jacket and one sock, laid somewhere on the floor.
He grips at Francis' arm, sinking to his knees and whimpering into his hand, sniffing childishly.
All he wants is the drink. Even if it is empty by now.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 10, 2011 18:30:50 GMT -5
Francis had not been prepared for Arthur's reaction when he took away the liquor. He had to push Arthur off himself to keep him away from the bottle and grab his hands.
"No, Arthur, it's gone now," he whispered. "No more. You don't need it anymore."
Francis felt something in his chest tighten when Arthur wept in earnest. He couldn't keep himself from drawing the pirate into his arms, combing through his hair and rubbing circles on his back. What he couldn't understand was what had upset Arthur so much.
"Shh," he said quietly again. "It will be all right. You're safe here."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 10, 2011 18:38:31 GMT -5
Arthur actually tenses up, compared to how he held onto him before, but doesn't shove Francis away. He does cross his arms over his own eyes as though trying to hide the fact he's crying, and is pushing the man a little at the chest as a result to hold him back slightly. One arm does loosen, however, and starts trying to flail for it behind the injured man. His fingers brush at it and he whimpers.
"D-DO--" He cries. "Only... o-only.... thin'.. u-undershtands....m-me..."
His fingers manage to grasp the neck of it lightly, and he considerably calms as a result.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 10, 2011 18:57:20 GMT -5
Francis had a difficult time pulling Arthur's arms from over his eyes and then tugging Arthur's hand away from the bottle. Francis decided to keep a firm grip on Arthur's hands, holding them near his lips.
"No," he repeated quietly. "No, there's nothing left. You don't need it."
Francis gazed at Arthur for a long moment, trying to discern what was causing Arthur such heartache. He wanted - needed to do anything he could to stop it. It was then that he realized that it was everything (in Arthur's life). But what hurt Francis the worst was that it dawned on him that he was aggravating everything.
"Arthur, look at me," he said in a gentle voice. "Tell me if you never want to see me again after today. Tell me if you want to pretend nothing ever happened involving you and me. Because it that's really what you want...then you will never hear from me or see me again."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 10, 2011 19:09:42 GMT -5
Arthur sniffles and whimpers to himself when his hands are taken away from him, not understanding why he couldn't just have the bottle.
But as Francis directly addresses him, he does seem to stop and look at the other with wild, childish eyes. The tone does seem to connect with him and he just gazes at him tearfully for a long moment, not quite sure how to answer such a question.
But then the drunken glaze in his eyes becomes obvious as he tears up again, and he forces the other's grip away from him. He's too drunk to make such a complicated decision. He barely understands what he's feeling right now. He turns away from the other, moving to stand up clumsily from the bed.
"s'...s'... f-fwiends....m-m'....undershtand..m-me..." he mumbles, stumbling to the wine cabinet like a three-year-old.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he just wants to forget.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 10, 2011 20:16:21 GMT -5
Francis scrambled to sit up and take Arthur's arm. The pirate was in no condition to be out in public, where he could be vulnerable and recognizable in his inebriated state. And Francis wasn't ready to let him go just yet.
"No, don't go!" he cried. It took him the slightest of tugs to bring Arthur to sit back down on the bed. "You can't. Not yet. It's not safe. Just...wait for just today."
Francis shifted to face Arthur, still gripping his arm. "Please?" he breathed. "Stay here...rest...and we can talk tomorrow."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 10, 2011 20:25:40 GMT -5
Arthur looks incredibly arlarmed at Francis' reaction, as though he's not quite sure what's wrong. He frowns at the other, practically with a pout, before whining and reaching out towards the cabinet.
"Jus'... jus'.. w-wanded....drink" He whimpers, tearing up. He sobs again, before rolling over and curling up on himself, just wanting the drink, just wanting whatever it was in his mind at the moment to himself to reassure him.
He sniffles, rocking slightly.
"...m-m-mummy..."
He suddenly cries harder. He's tired on top of everything, which would make his state worse.
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