June Catchall (L Lawliet + Old and New CR)

[hearthebell]

Character Name: L Lawliet (Lazarus Sauveterre)
Who: Open to CR old and new
What: Catchall for the month of June (memshare, event, detective work, slice of life). Prompts in comments.
When: Throughout the month of June
Where: Throughout Trench

Content Warnings: Included at the beginning of the prompts that warrant them.

Comments

[hearthebell]

[L's not sure what he expects to hear; he's not sure if he should feel hope or doubt. But Paul is looking at him with more of the former, speaking the vow first, and the guardedness in his eyes gradually melts away with every word.

As evidence goes, it's compelling him closer to the fire.]

I... swear on the bond between us that I will stand at your side when you ask me to, and guard you against the dangers of this world and any other. We are House Atreides. There is no call we do not answer. There is no faith that we betray.

[Has he already betrayed it? He's some kind of way, perhaps not wholly of sound mind with regards to certain matters. His reluctance to get close to people has everything to do with the knowledge that he will hurt himself without a keeper, and his obsession with chasing what he hates like most people chase what they love only promises eventual destruction.]

[terriblepurpose]

There. Not so bad.

[The affability in the last squeeze of his hands and quirk of his smile before he releases Lazarus isn't false, but it is something Lazarus won't have seen since the beach and the Leviathan, and therefore unexpected. The shadow of the adult that the boy could be falling over him, but this one not dark or bloody.

There's a part of Paul that was born to be a different kind of leader than the one he's destined to become. Someone who draws people to him through qualities that inspire genuine loyalty, not fear.]

I got you something.

[But the rummaging through his pockets with a faint giddiness returns him to the boy he still is. He fishes a small black box out and flicks it open, holding the contents up for Lazarus' approval: a pair of silver wing pins he extends to Lazarus for the taking.]

You don't have to wear them. I know you don't like showing too much of your hand. But I want you to have them, so that if you ever want to show which House you belong to...you have the choice.

[hearthebell]

[A pale smile, and he agrees with a nod; not so bad at all. Just words, provided that he means them and can back up their intent and their consequence.

He thinks that he's able to do that. Rules were always something he could follow and adhere to, a strange and lovely curated set of them ensuring that the world made sense and he could exist in it without getting locked up in a prison or asylum.]

You didn't have to--

[He starts to say it, rebelling instinctively against the very idea of a gift, but the presentation of the box silences him. It's not just a thing, it's a very intentionally chosen thing. L's eyes manage to be wide and tense at the same time as he waits for the reveal, and the pretty silver wings that suit his cool and milky skin tone, but not much else.

Jewelry is so far from the drab creature that is his being. The glint of them outshines him on first glance; they're too fine for him. He wants to say so.]

You want me to have them.

[He repeats the words quietly, staring at them as though they're a new dog he's not sure will bite.]

Are you sure? They're so fine.

[Though L dresses in the manner of a middle-class Victorian man, it always looks sloppy and slightly undone. The buttons one-off, the cufflinks or tie missing. He always looks incomplete. It's so strange, to be offered an accessory that anyone would think he surely doesn't even know how to wear.

But it's more than an accessory. It's a symbol, one that carries tremendous weight and meaning to Paul.]

If... you're sure. Then I want them. I'll take good care of them, and cherish them.

[Maybe wear them, if he can figure out how.]

[terriblepurpose]

[Lazarus may have seen the matching set Paul wears on his own collar for occasions he feels call for them, which follow a set of rules that are labyrinthine and intricately known only to him. They're rules he'd be happy to share, if he's ever asked; they're rules he'd be happy to see broken, in whatever way it might please the people he shares them with to break them.]

I'm sure.

[He reaffirms, smile undaunted and untroubled. This is a reluctance he does grasp, the hesitance to take up what is precious to others for yourself. He proffers them a little closer, as underline to his point.]

I know you'll take good care of them. You always do with things that are important.

[That rarely includes Lazarus himself, or the things that he thinks of as only his, but Paul's seen how he treats those things which do merit his caution - things like Paul, and what he cares about.]

And if you lose them, I'm sure the jeweller won't mind the repeat business.

[Paul commissioned a mould and everything. He has an eye for the future, after all.]

[hearthebell]

[Though L is apt to create his own rules, he takes unusual comfort in their establishment and adherence. In time, it's highly likely that he will ask, and adopt Paul's; for now, he wraps his fingers around them, accepting the gift and drawing it close to nestle in a safer compartment in his backpack, for now.]

Having never had a family... of course I'd like to know about the culture and customs of this one, and honor them as well as I can.

[There will be missteps and foibles, probably, more than a few faux pas. It's L, and he's always out of step with the grain of formality and society. But there's an unmistakable earnestness in his intent, now, and it comes through the way he chooses his words with sincerity over care.]

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul doesn't know if the way he feels when Lazarus tucks his pins away can be expressed in language correctly. It's too much, a bubbling, effervescent contentment that spreads out through his limbs like the intoxication of wine and the warmth of a bed while the rain softly pours outside. He thinks his smile must have a lopsided look to it, but he doesn't try to curb it as he hitches the straps of his pack higher on his shoulders.]

I'll tell you about them while we go deeper.

[If Lazarus spoke Galach, he'd be able to name the tone shift Paul uses. If there's anyone Paul thinks might want to learn it, it's Lazarus. Another thought for later, but for now, in newly casual, less polished lilt, he adds:]

Another thing. Just because you're an Atreides now doesn't mean you can go flying away. You got that?

[He won't let it happen. Whatever that future was, it won't come to pass. This changes things. He knows it has to.]

/wrap!

[hearthebell]

[L's not used to the things he does making others happy. Usually he's the bearer of bad tidings at best; knowing who committed a crime is rarely comforting. Knowing who is most likely to kill, who is most likely to steal, who is most likely to behave like a beast among men... it's all enough to make others turn away from him as though he is, himself, the crime.

He thinks he can feel the weight of the wings even after his backpack is in place once more. Their heaviness is negligible, he knows, but they still affect something about the way he perceives himself and what he carries, the way he balances, the way he moves and carries.]

I'm an Atreides, now.

[He has to sit with that longer, he thinks. He has to absorb what it means and what it's allowed to mean. For the present, he lets Paul's gladness and comfort bolster his own mood, and he nods his assent.

Whatever happens, he certainly doesn't mean to go flying away.]