Khasiskar, Kings Scribe

[filthycraftything]

Whether it’s his cruelty or brutality he’s known for it matters not, he doesn’t concern himself with needlessly antagonizing his own house-members. Better things to do than play tricks like some sort of dreg. He may be ruthless and not quite warm, but he saves it for the field. 

Kyliskyr’s expression looks bemused, best as it can with the scars on his face, as Khasiskar brightens up almost immediately after the word book, watching as he scurries about his small room, to a shelf with books upon books donning them. He just about opens his mouth to respond and cut off Khasiskar, but the sudden drop of the books fills the air before he can, and his eyes flick down to watch as they lay splayed on the ground, pages exposed and some even out of place. 

He doesn’t have much time to react, let alone help the Scribe – something tells him he’d be ashamed if Kyliskyr even tried anyway – before Khasiskar is grabbing them, straightening out and holding them all the while looking away. Like a scolded child. 

The Captain reaches out, taking the books and letting the silence fall over them. He knows of Khasiskar’s past, so he doesn’t bring it up word-for-word, but he tries a lighthearted joke regardless; “If it makes you feel better, flawed arms are quite a step better than a flawed face.” But unfortunately, you cannot dock faces and let them grow back again. A small pause is given as Kyliskyr shifts two books to his secondaries, opening up the largest with one primary as he sifts through the pages nonchalantly. “Sometimes I don’t even notice I’m drooling before it’s pointed out to me…” 

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

The silence that falls between them is deafening, an eternity, and only leaves Khasiskar to his own racing thoughts. He must look so weak, especially in front of Kyliskyr -- one of the strongest Captains they have. Embarrassing!!

The Captain's words make him jump out of such contrast to the silence, and only when he processes what he's saying does Khasiskar finally look up at him. Is he... joking? Kyliskyr? It's easy to forget that the Captain sustains an injury too. Not to say that it isn't noticeable, because it is, but Khasiskar has seen him that way for so long that he can't even remember if he's ever seen him otherwise.

Khasiskar laughs to himself, but it's very faint. Kyliskyr is also the one to advise re-docking his arms in the past, suggesting that may fix the problem, but Khasis isn't too enthusiastic about that idea. "It certainly looks better." He agrees, his tone just the tiniest bit teasing. Kyliskar's face doesn't bother him. "At least you can go out into the field." Technically, he could too. Dregs went out all the time with no issues (other than generally just being weak and dying all the time), but the random occasional twitching was a big distraction. Makes it hard for precision shooting. He enjoys being a Scribe, but it was never part of his initial plan in life. Exploring, adventure, fighting, that is what he'd always dreamed of. And now, thanks to those truly wonderful Guardians, he rarely got to see the outside world at all.

[divinebeast-blog]

When he was given the space to do so, Rhaxis quickly exited his room to join the smaller eliksni. As they began to make their way down the hall towards where the Prime was kept, Rhaxis walked with a poised and calm manner, despite the fact it was so early. A calmness that some might even find eerie about him.

His eyes shifted down to Khasiskar as he speaks, apologizing, pushing to make it known that he felt bad for being there. “Shhhh.” Rhaxis was gentle with his tone, though, not intending it to be harsh. “Don’t worry, Khasiskar. Helping my house is one of my duties. Your presence isn’t a bother.”

He knew that the scribe would not be there if he didn’t feel it necessary. Rhaxis was aware of the situation with his arms to a detailed point, and could only imagine what a struggle that had to be for someone who’s daily tasks involved use of his hands. Khasiskar was brave.

It was barely any time at all before they came to the room. The Archon Priest moved forward, placing his hands on the large and heavy doors and pushing them open to reveal the large room before them.

The Prime was already alert, it’s gaze towards the door, as if it had sensed their arrival.

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Rhaxis' calmness is probably what draws Khasiskar towards him more than anything, and the reassurance he gets from the Archon makes him feel a little less guilty for coming to him. It's just that this isn't the first time. It's not even the third or the fourth. He needs the help, but it makes him look weak. There is nothing redeeming about that.

"Thank you." He says, wanting him to know it's appreciated either way. The pain would have driven him crazy by now if it weren't for Rhaxis and the Prime's assistance. The only other alternative is re-docking his arms, and he... isn't ready for something like that. He might never be.

Luckily he doesn't have to think about that for long, coming up on the Prime's room fairly quickly. As Rhaxis opens the door, the Prime is already staring in their direction, eerily so, like it had predicted they would arrive. Servitors are not where Khasiskar's expertise lies and admittedly doesn't know all that much about the way they work. He does know, however, that the Prime deserves the utmost respect and bows his head in its presence. None of them would be alive if it weren't for it.

[theynameusfallen-a]

“Oh, you most certainly are.” Hiskoris replies, his soft smile growing. His chest rises with the deep breath he takes in through his nostrils as he raises his hand to press it lightly against the back of the much smaller one resting against his cheek. The deep breath is let out in a content sigh, eyes half-lidded now as he stares at his tiny mate and listens to him speak.

The words that came out as a tease cause Hiskoris to laugh a little, his smile becoming a toothy grin. “Inflating my ego further, I see.” He says playfully, giving him a slow blink as he presses his face just a little more into the hand. He tries to soften his purring, wanting to hear Khasiskar’s, but that is difficult when you are so big.

“… I can see why it would be.” He raises his hand to the Scribe’s face, tracing his jawline with the pad of a finger as his smile becomes small and sweet again with his tone of voice dropping to a whisper. “But this is very real, Khasiskar. I am real.” Hiskoris scoots closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing the side of his face to the smaller chest with his purring growing just a little louder. “And I adore you.”

A few seconds pass before he raises his head, drawing back to begin slowly easing Khasiskar from his robes only because he wants him to be more comfortable(physically) before he goes to sleep. Though, he does have some minor difficulties due to the vast differences in their size.

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

A much louder purr comes from Khasiskar with the compliment, his chest feeling as if it could burst from happiness. Work was out of his mind then , the hours he'd spent writing completely abandoned. He had forgotten how nice it was just to relax with his mate, not worrying about anything else.

His eyes close during the brief moment Hiskoris traces his jawline and open again to him reassuring him that this is real. The way Hiskoris looks at him, expression completely gentle, nothing but honesty. Khasis couldn't be any luckier.

It's a peaceful moment until the Kell moves closer. A tiny squeal comes from his mouth when Hiskoris grabs a hold of him, pressing his face up against his chest. It's both from surprise and joy, and then the moment gets even better. I adore you, his mate says, Khasiskar thinking how he couldn't feel any happier than right then. He finds himself turning his head, burying it into the sheets to hide his face. "Stop, stop!" He laughs, though doesn't really mean it. He loves every ounce of attention he gets, that's just how he is.

After Hiskoris pulls away, his hands are soon on Khasiskar's body again. He sits up on the bed, able to remove his robes much easier than before. Once he's slipped them off and discarded them to the side, the purring starts up all over. He curls into a bundle against Hiskoris' chest, his head placed perfectly under his mate's chin. "And I cherish you too." He replies quietly. "The absolute most." His mouth closes tightly after those last words. Hiskoris has many mates, and Khasiskar would never be jealous -- they are all treated equally. But he himself has no one else. No one that matters more to him than Hiskoris.

[theynameusfallen-a]

The whine and gaze that is given as a response provokes a breath of quiet laughter, but he smiles brighter at Khasiskar’s agreement. Hiskoris brings his head down further and the hand he had taken up just a little more, opening it up to press his face to the palm so that he may nuzzle it, giving Khasiskar an approving purr. “Yes, that is a good reason to rest.”

He draws his head back and gently urges the smaller Eliksni to stand, waiting patiently for him to do so. Once Khasis is up on his feet, Hiskoris doesn’t waste any time to begin gathering him up into his arms. He stands from his kneeling position once he feels that he has the small Scribe secure in his hold, backing away from the desk and continuing to purr at him.

“The tiny one must not be made to tire such cute feet when it can be avoided.” Hiskoris says in a quiet and playful tone, grinning at his mate as he makes his way out of the room then and starts towards his own. He is more tired than he’s trying to show, but it is well masked by his eagerness to take full advantage of this opportunity.

They enter the room and it is already a mess, the blanket on the floor and everything else on the bed out of order. Clearly, he had attempted to sleep prior to this and was unfortunately unsuccessful. Hiskoris places Khasiskar down on the bed gently and backs up one step away from it for just a few seconds to slip out of the robes that he had put on before he left. He crawls up onto the bed once he’s finished and lays down beside Khasiskar with a heavy sigh, eyes closed temporarily.

Soon they open and his gaze is rested on the Scribe, reaching over with one hand to gently trail the backs of his fingers against a primary arm, whispering; “Look at you.. So elegant. I could stare for hours.”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Just as soon as he's up and on his feet, a surprised squeak comes from his mouth as he's lifted up into his mate's arms. He hadn't been expecting it, yet it is not unwelcome, and he chooses not to fight it. He is exhausted, after all. Closing his eyes, he leans into his mate's chest, an almost silent purr coming from him compared to his mate.

He's not sure if he dozed off on the way to the bedroom, or if the trip was shorter than he remembered, but it isn't long before they reach their destination. He catches a glimpse of the messiness as he's placed onto the bed, unable to help but wonder what went on. The thought quickly leaves his mind as he watches Hiskoris undress, the sight in front of him impossible not to watch, and it isn't long before he is joined on the bed.

Khasiskar tries to hold back the rumble in his throat as Hiskoris compliments him, but it's no use. He just can't resist the affection that he's being given.  Elegant, he is a fan of that term. "I suppose that is true. I am... quite a prize." He laughs, small and quiet, just like him.

He is so tired, but he doesn't want their interactions to end just yet. His hand moves forward, resting on Hiskoris' cheek. Khasis has had it rough (though what Eliksni hasn't, honestly) in his early life, but to be able to call himself a mate to the Kell, well that was something he was proud of. "So are you, I'll admit." He adds a teasing tone to the last part, but he truly means it. He moves his thumb back and forth, convincing himself that he isn't making up this moment in his mind, and he lowers his voice. "It's hard to believe that this is real sometimes."

[divinebeast-blog]

Rhaxis was awake, as of a few hours ago, though he still lingered in his room now. He sat on his bed, eyes closed and his legs crossed. Meditating, almost, clearing his mind and calming himself for the day to come as he let his chest rise and fall with gentle breaths.

Then, the knocking game. Rhaxis wasn’t surprised when he heard it, and though it snapped him out of his moment, he wasn’t all that startled. Almost every day members of Kings would come to him, seek his help or guidance for matters that involved their Prime. He assumed this was no different.

He shifted to a standing position, crossing the room and opening the door. He was almost fully armored besides the lack of a helmet, a piece he hadn’t yet put on for the day. His eyes cast down, then, catching the sight of the small Khasiskar.

It wasn’t the first time that the scribe had come to him, and Rhaxis assumed it wouldn’t be the last, either. He could see the secondary arms pressed against the smaller eliksni’s side, nodding at him like he understood without the words needing to be spoken.

“Come.” He said, motioning a hand for Khasiskar to step back and allow him to exit the room. The place where the Prime was kept was a very short walk down the hall. Rhaxis liked to be near it as he slept.

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Khasiskar steps aside, letting Rhaxis exit the room. He is quick to follow the much taller Eliksni, having to take many hurried steps just to keep up with him. He’s relieved that Rhaxis already knows the reason for his visit, hating to even acknowledge the fact that part of him was .. not working the way it should.

"I'm sorry to bother you so early." He says to the Archon, thankful that he has someone he can rely on in this situation. "There isn't anywhere else I could go. The medics, they... they aren’t any help anymore." The only suggestion medics give him now is to re-dock his arms. Let them grow back again and see if that fixes the problem. But that is not something Khasiskar considers a solution. His first docking had been quite enough. “I won’t stay long, I don’t want to hold you up from your duties.”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

It is an early morning trip he hadn't expected to take. Khasiskar knows the Archon will be awake. In fact, he can't remember a time he's ever seen Rhaxis sleeping. He's sure he does, it's just odd.

He hurries down the halls, secondaries wrapped tightly around his waist. They hurt, they twitch, they've woken him up from (what he would consider) a decent night's sleep, but he can't take the pain anymore. The medics have all looked at him and there's nothing more they can do. Visiting Rhaxis is always his last resort.

As he approaches the Archon's room, he knocks quietly, waiting a couple seconds before entering. They are close, he knows he won't mind.

[theynameusfallen-a]

The second Khasiskar says his name is the second Hiskoris knows that his tiny Scribe is planning protest. However, he stops then and the Kell knows that he has reminded himself that protest is absolutely useless. He will know all of this regardless, there was no point in going into all the effort of hiding it.

But Hiskoris is distracted now with the way that Khasis rubs his eyes, smiling at him as he feels a rush of affection for his smaller mate. That sigh leaves him with a hint of amusement as well, pleased to hear him admit to what he did. Yet, he is shaking his head as Khasiskar continues, hearing the hope in his voice and knowing that permission to stay up just long enough to finish was wanted.

Hiskoris sets the pen aside and takes in his hand instead one of Khasiskar’s own, squeezing it gently as he lets his voice drop to the most soothing tone he can manage; “Please, Khasiskar. Come to bed with me instead. You can finish in the morning.”

              No, he would not be getting his pen back tonight.

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

As soon the words leave his mouth, Hiskoris is already shaking his head, and his faith wavers even further when he sets the pen out of reach. No more writing tonight, he can tell. Disappointment floods his chest, but soon Hiskoris takes his hand, asking him to join him in bed. Khasiskar relaxes. It's just impossible not to when his mate is so comforting all the time.

Sleep does sound tempting, as much as he wanted to finish the work for the night first, and the gentle tone of his voice makes it all the more difficult to refuse. A long whine comes from his throat, the most pathetic eyes gazing up at Hiskoris. "Maybe a few hours of rest won't hurt." He reluctantly gives in. But he makes sure to add. "Less mistakes if I'm well rested." He can't appear too eager to sleep. Lazy. Anything but that.

Though if he's being honest with himself, curling onto the bed, held tight in Hiskoris' arms is the most appealing alternative right now.

[filthycraftything]

He isn’t careless, at the very least. Curious and perhaps too violent for any reason not to worry, maybe. 

“It does,” the Captain insists, canting his head to look at the Scribe, “You have to cut the right place. And try to do it slow enough to keep them awake.” Unless they’re dregs, anyway. They usually pass out anyway– not that he’s trying to make it hurt when it’s only for ceremony. Typically done by the Kell’s hand, not his.

Kyliskyr turns around to face him, a deep chuckle resonating in his throat. “You are too judgmental. Perhaps it comes with being a Scribe.”

His ground is held as the smaller eliksni approaches him, brows lifting some as the suspicion makes itself present. Like he’s here to steal things. Right. 

“You act if I am going to break things on purpose,” he says suddenly, clasping every hand together behind his back. “I’m not allowed to talk?” His reply lingers for a short moment, one, two, three… The Scribe doesn’t look convinced, so he rolls his eyes and continue. “I was wondering if you had a book.. on Russia.” A small pause, before he feels the need to elaborate, “I am interested in the… landmarks.”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Khasiskar just shakes his head when Kyliskyr goes on about the docking. That's nothing he's interested in. And then the word judgmental. He opens his mouth to argue, but he realizes Kyliskyr is... actually right. He is a bit judgmental. Not much of an insult if it's true.

He watches as the Captain continues to speak. He never knows with Kyliskyr. Maybe he is trying to mess with him, break his things. He wouldn't be the first, if that were true, as some others seemed to love to mess with him.

There's a small silence between them, but Khasiskar perks up when he hears he's looking for a book. Landmarks of Old Russia. The Scribe's demeanor changes then, and he nods. This is something he is happy to talk about. "Yes, I have many." He hurries over to a different shelf, generations and generations of books collected and written by others. He picks up a couple, and holds them in his secondary hands as he reaches for one more.

Once he's holding all three, he turns back to Kyliskyr, his eyes filled with interest. "Are you looking for something specific?" He asks, tone lighter than it had been just moments before. "These are filled with maps and some even have blueprints and--" In his excitement, his secondary hands shake and he tries to catch the books, but they just fall to the floor, flipping open to expose their pages. His mouth closes and he stares at them on the ground.

His hands continue to twitch, as they often do after his accident in the field. They have never been the same since they've grown back. He wraps his flawed arms around his waist and reaches for the books with his primary hands. Stupid. Such stupid worthless arms, he thinks.

He is lost in thought for a long second, but he shakes his mind out of the daze as quickly as he realizes his dwelling. He holds the books out towards the Captain, not looking at him as he does so.  

[theynameusfallen-a]

When Hiskoris comes into Khasiskar’s room and finds him asleep at his desk(clearly fell asleep in the midst of writing), he is anything but surprised. With a slight roll of his eyes and a smile he quietly enters the room further, letting the door slide shut behind him with a soft hiss.

Hiskoris appreciated Khasiskar’s hard work, but he didn’t appreciate him working himself down to the very last shred of energy just to prove that he was useful. But he did not blame him for his desperation, the Scribe had his reasons and they were reasons best left unspoken.

       “Khasiskar…” Hiskoris says softly as he takes a step towards him, leaning in with one secondary hand pressed gently against his back while he reaches forward with a primary hand to take the pen away. He gives Khasiskar a gentle nudge to the side of his face, purring quietly.

       “Asleep working again?”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Hiskoris makes it all the way into the study without detection, even going as far as touching Khasiskar. Speaking even. It's not until the pen leaves his hand does he wake. His eyes dart around almost panicked, until he hears the soft purr. One he recognizes right away. His mate.

"Hiskoris, I--" He stops himself. There's no denying that he was working himself too hard again. It's just too easy to do so. He's been gently scolded many times, but it never seems to stop him.

His eyes are tired and he rubs them with his palm before looking up at the Kell. "Yes." He says with a sigh, finally giving in. "I was almost done though, just a couple more hours. I can finish it for sure tonight." 

His voice was hopeful, but deep down he was almost certain he wouldn’t be getting his pen back.

[filthycraftything]

His hands remain empty, fingers slack for a short moment as he stares down at where the book used to be. They flex before lowering to his sides, his eyes rolling as an exasperated sigh leaves him. Scribes are so touchy. 

Kyliskyr moves about the room, staring at a few more baubles placed about. Interesting. He reaches out to touch. 

   “Let me guess. Everything in here is older than you, Kyliskyr. Don’t touch that, Kyliskyr.” An amused chortle leaves him before he looks back at Khasiskar, yanking his hands back before his gloves can even graze the ceramic object. “Is that right?”

With that, he leans back.

   “I’ll have you know, docking does require precision…”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Khasiskar huffs, barely given enough time before Kyliskyr's gaze starts moving around the room. The Scribe's heart jumps when the Captain reaches for one of his precious objects, but he calms when Kyliskyr pulls his hand back. "Yes." He replies. Almost everything in the room is older than him, and much too valuable for the hands of the careless. "That is right."

He carefully places the old book back on the shelf where it belongs, the neatness of his collection pleasing him even if it is only a few short seconds. "Precision." He mumbles, barely audible. "Very little, I imagine."  Maybe he is being too judgmental, the agitation of the situation putting him on edge.

A deep breath as he turns on his heel, facing the Captain once more. He closes in with a few more steps forward, cocking his head suspiciously, eyes squinted. "Are you here for any other reason than to touch my things?"

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

Many long hours, but he is determined to finish copying the old medicine book. The pages are warped and worn, but the contents are too important not to preserve. He’s been working on this new edition for the better part of the week, and it’s close to being finished. Just another few hours.

His eyes grow heavy, but he pushes himself on, the grip on his pen tightening as he continues to force the words onto the paper. The work has to be done. He has to stay useful. No room for someone that can't pull their weight.

As it gets later into the night, he finds himself slowly shutting his eyes. Only for a few seconds, he tells himself, then he must get back to work. Except his eyes don't open, leaning slightly forward at his desk, pen still in hand.

He doesn't hear his study door open behind him.

[filthycraftything]

   “What’s this, then?”

Evidently, it becomes increasingly more and more difficult to keep his hands off things the longer he stays around their Scribe. It’s hard not to be curious, really, as the Captain’s hands drop down to pick up a book, eyes narrowing in confusion and concentration at the strange language. 

Maybe an older dialect, or something. He understands a few words, but the rest looks like gibberish to him–

  “–I’m only looking,” he protests in wake of the rather offended (or something) look shot his way, “I don’t make it a free time to look at books, you know.”

[sovereignsubordinate-blog]

"You can look--" The Scribe snatches the book away, the tiniest snarl following his words as he holds the book close. "--at something less valuable." 

Honestly he can't read most of the text either, still studying and learning. He does know the book is one of a kind. It needs to be protected, and Kyliskyr is not a creature of delicacy. "This book is older than you."

His eyes search the book for any new imperfections. He almost expects to find bloody fingerprints over the cover. Luckily it seems no more damaged than before, which is a good thing. Kyliskyr will at least avoid that part of the scolding.