Will slightly nods and begins to slowly follow Kaz down the hall. He keeps his eyes shielded with one hand, using the other to help keep his balance against the wall. Was it this far? Will asks himself as he steals a glance ahead. The hallway is long, the windows are large, the early-hour moonlight is bright. His eyes flick to the Snake, then back to the hall.
Kaz was quiet, walking far slower than he normally would in order to allow Will to keep up; a consideration that he normally did not grant, but was willing to give his Martyr. His Martyr. It had been so long since they had seen each other last, and yet he wondered how long it would last before Will began to scheme against him. How long would it be before Will decided Kaz needed to die? How long until he was faced with the choice of his own life or the life of his Martyr?
The journey to the throne room is long and painful, riddled with thousands of thoughts from Will. It's only a matter of time. Who knows how long it'll be until the Snake decides to drive a stake straight through his bleeding heart. It could be tonight. Will glances up towards Kaz. It could be months from now. The Snake will torture him until the end. In this lifetime, in the next, and in all the ones after that. Will's fingers itch for his pen and sketchbook. His ankles hurt with every step.
Kaz would never let Will end their cycle; not ever. He knew what had come before and he didn't know what came after, but he didn't want it. He refused to let this cycle end, and if that meant he had to kill William over and over again, then he would. Whatever it took. He finally led Will into the throne room, where the young man's bag was, sure enough, lying abandoned on the floor.
Will sighs in relief as soon as the bag comes into sight. As fast as he can with his aching ankles and vine-braced joints, Will darts to the bag and pulls it off the ground. He flicks the flap open and takes a quick inventory of the objects. His shoulders slump when he realizes everything's still safely in there. His journal, his sketchbook, his expensive pen he saved a year to purchase… and the card deck he received from the fortune teller. His expression turns slightly sour upon seeing the cards. Tying the flap down, Will slings the bag over his shoulder and faces Kaz. He sweeps the hair out of his face, once again wishing for a ribbon.
Kaz flashed him a quick, slightly scary smile. "Ready?" he asked. "I was intending upon bringing you to a bedroom where you can rest, unless you have other plans?" his words carried the faintest hint of mockery, though he really was planning on taking Will to rest up and relax.
"Just take me there," Will says quickly, praying Kaz doesn't play around with him. "What other plans could I have, Snake?" His tone is slightly more biting. His anxiety slowly subsiding now that the bag is safely around his torso. He takes a few steps towards Kaz, but still keeps his distance.
"Some insidious plan to bring about my death, I assume." He replied, giving Will a quick, lazy smile. "Come, then." He turned and began walking again, leading Will out of the throne room and down a hallway.
Will blows a piece of hair from his face and follows Kaz. An insidious plan to bring about Kaz's death. What a pompous choice of words. A sneer forms on Will's face but otherwise doesn't respond. No need to give away more of what Kaz already knows. Frankly, Will's tired of being played with life after life. The Snake the center of all his suffering. Just a few nights ago, Will was living happily on the outskirts of the village reading a book or helping his father with his work. He's born and raised happy, and then - just like his father's devices - the Snake arrives like clockwork. Will's heart can't help but love, love he does with every living creature and thing. And that love is what kills him in the end.
This time, He swears internally. This time I won't go down so easily.
(love how in most lifetimes, Kaz is the worst thing to happen to Will, whereas Will is the best thing to happen to Kaz)
Kaz led him through the palace, up into a more secluded wing, and then opened the door to a large, sumptuous bedroom. "Here. You may sleep in this bed for now." This was Kaz's room. There were a few personal touches that made that clear, and it was clean and well-kept. Whether that was because Kaz was not a naturally messy person, or because there were servants who cleaned was anyone's guess.
(Will: [shows up in Kaz's life])
(Kaz: :OOOOO MY LOVE)
(Will: fuck)
It's no doubt that the room Will has been led to is Kaz's. He doesn't say anything. He runs his hands over his face, pausing momentarily to rub at his eyes. He shouldn't have expected anything less. He's exhausted, he's aching, he's so extremely paranoid. But the bed looks rather comfortable… Will quickly pauses that way of thinking. He can't give in that easily, he can't let the Snake keep on winning… His eyes droop. He blinks them awake. "Fine," he groans. There's no point in fighting. Kaz will tie him to the bed if that's what'll take. Eugh, the freak would probably enjoy that of all things. "If you touch me I will stab you," he threatens, slowly making his way towards the bed.
(lol. Will's like "goddamnit not this fucker again, fuck, i hate that i love him" and Kaz is just like ":D hello darling")
Kaz laughed softly, flopping down onto a chair and watching. The bed was large, a king sized bed, and soft as a cloud. You could sink into it and it would just mold to you. The warm comforter was a deep crimson, with some gold detailing along it. The blankets were all thick and soft and warm, and the pillows, like the mattress, were soft and comfortable. Overall, the whole bed was just perfect, and it was almost surprising that someone as cruel and hard as Kaz would have a bed as comfortable and soft as this one.
(yoyoyo i've been thinking and now that Will knows that he's the martyr, what if those vague nightmares of dying via snake now become flashbacks to all the times he's been killed and stuff a;sdkf)
Watching Kaz from the corner of his eye, Will slowly approaches the bed. Hesitantly, he slides the bag from his shoulders and sets it gently on one of the nightstand. He runs his hand over the comforter, noting the soft luxury of it. Not even the mayor could afford this type of material. Nobody in Estonvale would have the money nor resources to weave it. With a small sigh through his nose, he slides onto the bed. Goddamnit, it shouldn't be this comfortable. He fights to stay awake, Kaz never leaving his line of sight, but this damned bed is practically a siren dragging Will closer and closer to sleep. "Don't you dare try anything," Will mutters, words slightly slurred together. His head hits the pillow. Within moments, he's asleep.
(oooh yeah! that works!)
Kaz nodded slightly, picking up a book and opening it up. He had no intention of doing anything to Will while the young human slept; he was not that sort of person. Of course, when Will awoke, Kaz wanted to speak with him. Get to know him all over again, really. That was what he wanted.
He's running- tearing through hallways once known, bare feet clapping along the cobblestone. Loose pants adorn his legs and hips, a flowing off-white blouse on his torso. There's noise behind him, sounds of voices screaming after him. They're shouting Will's name… but it isn't William. They're gaining. He sends a glance over his shoulder and turns into the nearest room. There's a balcony, doors wide open and curtains billowing in the midnight breeze. The next thing Will knows, he's standing on the railing, overlooking the endless drop below.
"Micah!" A voice screams. Will finds himself facing another man. Unfamiliar, save for the eyes. Snake eyes. "Micah, don't be rash-" Good god, is the Snake crying? Will doesn't say anything. He can't say anything. The next thing he knows, he's plummeting off the edge, a smile forming on his face. Maybe this will finally break the cycle, he finds himself thinking. However, before the end comes, there's a pain in his back and blood dripping from his body. His fingers pull at the handle lodged in his side. It's the Snake's. The one that drips with poison. When he hits the ground, he's already a dead man.
As his corpse hits the ground, Will shoots up in the bed, tears already streaming down his eyes and the pain still throbbing where the knife had been. A sob breaks from his lips, from pain, from loss, from the agony of the endless heartbreak of endless lives- He doesn't even register that he's not safely in his bed at home, with his parents on the other side of the wall to take care of him after particularly rough nightmares.
Kaz looked up at Will's sudden movement, setting his book aside and standing from his seat, coming over to the Martyr seated on his bed. "Is everything alright?" he asked, voice soft and surprisingly gentle. But then, Will is the only person Kaz has ever been gentle for, and now is no exception to that. "Bad dreams?" he had bad dreams more often than he would admit. His countless lifetimes had been full of too much pain for his dreams to be peaceful.
Will doesn't know where he is. He just knows that he's in pain, that he's scared and that someone familiar is sitting next to him. He grabs their arm, squeezing their wrist as his dream blurs with reality. Is he dead? What's happening? Where is he? Who is this? Who is he? The person next to him is talking, but it's all warbled and Will can't make any of it out. He squeezes their wrist tighter.
"William?" Kaz didn't react to the tight squeeze; he barely felt it. He reached out to brush his hand against Will's shoulder, growing a bit concerned now. "What's wrong?" this was not a normal reaction to a bad dream, but then again, William had only just remembered everything. Perhaps this was a normal response.
Whatever the person next to him says falls upon deaf ears. Will's blood is roaring in his ears, forming clots in his throat and tears falling unprompted from his eyes. He needs to breathe, but he can't get past the ball in his throat. He's shaking. He's dying - he's falling, he's bleeding, he's choking and being poisoned and oh god- it hurts. It all hurts- Will curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and burying his face between them. The hand not wrapped around the other's wrist is brought to his hair, pulling on it in hope that it'll draw away from the aching in his chest.
Kaz reached to rub Will's back gently, still trying to soothe him. He figured this was likely a side effect of all of those memories crashing in, and he was doing his best to just soothe his Martyr. "It's going to be alright, William." he said softly. "You're going to pull through this, and be absolutely alright."
Will finds himself leaning towards the other person, into their warmth and the feeling of safety. The aches are subsiding, the exhaustion is returning. His posture loosens, his tense shoulders and jaw slowly easing to relax. There's a voice, murmurs telling him that he'll be alright. The voice is familiar and foreign all at the same time, yet Will can't find himself to care. Soon enough, he's all but collapsed into the person next to him, fingers still locked around their wrist. Sleep had returned, pulling Will under.
Kaz kept rubbing Will's back as the young man collapsed into sleep, letting Will cling to his wrist. He could remember so many nights spent together, pressed against each other and whispering secrets, trading stories, just curled together beneath blankets. Or, other nights, doing other things. How many lifetimes had he loved the young man asleep against him?
When morning arrives, Will feels more rested than he has in years. It's… odd. He's used to his lumpy mattress at home with his mother's frantic half-screaming in the kitchen. Used the the chiming of hundreds of cuckoo clocks from his father's nearby shed, waking the family up before the roosters can even think of it. There's a silk pillow beneath his head, expensive blankets piled on him… and somebody next to him. The panic arrives as Will shoots straight up in the bed, eyes wide and hair a mess. Barely closed wounds on his back pull painfully. "What the hell-" He whispers, allowing the events of the night before to catch up to him.
(i listened to "I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE" by Maneskin last night and thought of this RP lmao)
Kaz was still asleep, curled on top of the blankets in the same rumpled clothing he had worn the day before. He had never gotten up from the bed, as Will had been clinging to his wrist still. To be honest, this was the longest period of time that Kaz had slept in decades. He normally got five hours, max, before his own mind sent him moving and arguing, going somewhere to vent anger and pain and frustration in the best way he could; either he would spar against a guard or a golem, or he would go to the dungeons and take it out on some prisoner of war.
(YESS a;skldfa;s i love Maneskin we should just like- make a playlist or something askldfj;alsd)
Will pries his hand from where it's fused with the other person's wrist. Wait- no. Not just another person, it's the Snake. The Snake, the Snake, the fucking Snake. Will's teeth grit together. He's asleep. He's asleep and he's at peace and he's- vulnerable. In the serenity of the morning, Will's eyes rake around the room. He had been too blinded by pain and rage to fully address and appreciate its grandeur. From the gold and scarlet detailing, to the lavish gems embedded in nearly everything, the expensive wood, the exquisite craftsmanship- It's all so impressive. Will nearly loathes himself for thinking so.
He looks down to the sleeping man next to him. The cool porcelain skin, the fair blonde hair, the shut eyes sealing away the Snake's stare. Will's eyes fleet to the bedside table, the one where there's his bag set next to an ornate knife. It's of Fae craft, without a doubt. No human could possibly form a blade so frighteningly beautiful. He reaches. He grabs his bag. No matter what crimes the Snake is bound to commit… not yet. Not yet.
With a sigh, Will opens up his book to the nearest blank page, fountain pen in hand. In his neat calligraphy he writes at the top: Fae Horticulture.