#walwynarmistead

[dukeofell]

on even keel

It feels almost strange to be back home, which in itself is cause for concern. His desk is still the same-- no dust, luckily. Still the same inkwell, still the same paper left stacked on the corner, just waiting to have letters written on them.

One to AJ, one to Walwyn, one to Ligia. He cheats a little and duplicates the first one, merely changing the particulars, but he'd say much the same thing to all of them in person. Thanking them for their time and, especially, their loyalty; asking indulgence for the undeserved injustices; a few personal words; and, finally, the heart of the matter. Just a few lines, telling them that although nothing that may have passed between them is rejected and he will welcome all future interactions, they may as well consider themselves free.

It's not goodbye. It's not even breaking up as humans would have it. It's just a way to set the balance right again: to show that he doesn't intend to let his relationships run his existence any longer.

He's done with working for his heart and not the other way around. He's ready to be just Hastur again, not insert-name-here's Hastur or the worst of all, the Hastur who fell in love with Crowley. It was fun for a while, playing at romance and infatuation, and he meant every word and move of it. He always meant everything he did with all his heart, no matter how quickly that heart may change. But there's always a time when you have to begin thinking of other things again. 

Satan's in his Hell, all's right with the world.

Time to get back to fourteenth-century basics.*

_______________

 * Except, perhaps, without the hose.

[getarmageddon-blog]

[walwynarmistead-blog]

College, Gabriel (because now you've made me want to know EVERYTHING about the college AU)

Walwyn watched Gabriel for a while at first, he and that little group of the senior elite of that side, there were seven of them, usually, but Gabe stood out, something approachable. In the beginning, before Walwyn chose to fall in with the other side, he offered to do a favor for Gabriel when he overheard him and that guy he was pretty sure was Gabe's boyfriend (a clueless Christian farm boy majoring in theology who'd only been in the city the last semester, but it seemed like he and Gabe went way back) talking about how he really needed someone to give him a ride to some concert he had. After that Walwyn became something of an albeit untrustworthy errand boy for them, flitting amongst them to get closer to Gabe and bond with him on the musician front at least (while he was majoring in Visual Art, Walwyn was minoring in Music and most music majors did look up to Gabe) and throughout the months they got a bit closer, all of them, and Walwyn almost thought he'd stay with them, abandon the times he flitted to the other side of the social ravine that split the university.

Almost being operative. (But then there was the incident, and Walwyn found better company across that ravine.)

[walwynarmistead-blog]

Marriage - Asmodeus

It was risky; a secret, carefully guarded, but it did feel proper. Their marriage happened quietly, their honeymoon quieter, their lives afterward largely unchanged. They still shared chambers and snuck in and out, terrified not for Asmodeus' sake but for Walwyn's.

But at night, they'd hide away together, fold their bodies close. It wasn't always sex, though that was often, and more often still it came close, but some nights, one or two a week, it was desperate lips, full of fear, fingers running through the notches in their spines, through hair and pressing beating hearts close, a whispering of "Pet", hushed quickly with "M'Dear, it's alright" in a voice that trembled just as much.

Theirs was a romance in secret and in terror.

[walwynarmistead-blog]

... awkward moment when I shipped you/Hastur but that ficlet made me ship you/Met something awful.

Erm?

[walwynarmistead-blog]

Role - Gabriel

Life as an Archangel is demanding, but he can't think of life any other way and luckily Arylic schedules in time among all of the stress to take breaks, and that's what this is, reclining in his chair. He taps away at his laptop, idly, not really thinking about what he's typing, just thoughts into a blank document, when the message pops up on his screen.

"I've heard about you," it reads, and he tries to mentally track its source but he's too tired, lacks the concentration or the energy, so he reads on, "You seem a bit stressed. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you'd like to get off your chest?"

Arylic blinks, a bit startled, distrusting at once because the text, the sender, it all reads demon, he cautiously types a response though, wondering if the demon really has anything nearly akin to benevolence for him.

[walwynarmistead-blog]

College, Metatron

The university has two opposing sides, and they damn well despise each other. No one is quite sure who these sides are, or what divides them, and when Walwyn wanders vaguely between them in his freshman year he has a problem telling the difference, but he knows he gets a lot of hate from wandering between both social groups who for some reason despise each other.

He remembered asking Gabe, that senior majoring in music, and getting nothing other than a quirked brow, a noncommittal almost shrug, and a few insults tossed at the group in general. 

In Junior year, Walwyn kind of just gave in, let himself fall in with one crowd, and to a certain extent, bought into the insults and the snarling that both sides slung.

Still, watching them from afar, his easel set up on the lawn one day, he shook his head, deciding the statue in the fountain at the center of the courtyard here was a little too boring for a final project's painting. So he marched right up to the group and looked that one professor that always seemed to hang out with them (and who Walwyn was pretty damn sure was doing all their taxes that semester for some reason) straight in the eye.

"Excuse me, professor, while I know you're busy and your social group seems horrifically opposed to mine, I was wondering if you'd do a sitting for my final project. You're just the type of person who I think I could draw with wings."

[walwynarmistead-blog]

Royalty (Hastur, Walwyn as the servant)

He's sure to keep his head down, to bow low enough and stay quiet enough. Walwyn Armistead is the definition of a dutiful servant. He does things almost before they're asked of him, and asks no questions when Hastur asks him to do things a little less than savory.

He thinks it's more or less a matter of progression when Walwyn asks him to stay later, do things more intimate. (Things servants rarely do for dukes, snuffing the candles at night or playing music on his harp in Hastur's private chambers, sometimes simply sit and talk in a manner near colloquial.) It's strange, certainly, but not unpleasant. 

Walwyn is tentative, very tentative, though, to make his own moves. He will always bow to Hastur's word, always show his submission when it is required. He is reserved and keeps his own feelings very carefully masked.

Still, it feels like natural progression. The way Hastur once touched his cheek confirms they've both been thinking about it. And Hastur wanted to, it was plain in those amber eyes, but Walwyn is still tentative. Perhaps he fears a curse he swears was placed on his head years ago, the one that had his mentor killed, ruined any prospect of him being a proper scribe, the one that killed the soldier he'd been sleeping with or the handmaid he'd seen briefly, the little pauper girl he'd been seeing when working in the stables before he caught Hastur's eye. Perhaps he just fears rejection.

But as natural progression is prone, things moved forward. When Hastur turned his head to the side, looked at him, smirked a tiny smirk, Walwyn knew what was going to happen.

"Servant, kiss me."

And he does, not hiding his smile.