Kalen Holliday
[Indeed it is. How awake are those Kalen Hollidays?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (1, 3, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Ian
He'd
been away from Denver for a long time. Weeks, now. His plants were
still over at Jae-shin's place. The apartment felt a bit cold and empty
without them. Maybe it was just strange coming back to a place that both
was and wasn't home. Especially after... well. Everything.
Kalen
didn't know about any of that. He may not even have known that Ian
left. The two of them didn't see much of each other anymore, and Ian had
a habit of slipping away while no one was looking. For Kalen, Christmas
came and went. And then the weekend arrived. And Sunday evening, a text
appeared from Ian's number.
Hey. Mind if I stop by?
About
an hour later, Ian's car pulled into the lot and he hit the buzzer to
let Kalen know that he was there. In his hands was a large, flat
rectangular object wrapped in silver paper and tied up with a blue silk
ribbon.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen does not carry
Ian's present to the door. He has, in fact, set it on the coffee table
at the couch he prefers in the library. There is a bit of surprise when
he sees that Ian is holding a present. Perhaps, he reasons, it is for
someone else. Elijah? Grace?
He holds the door open and
steps back and out of the way. "Come in. It's good to see you." His
tone is calm, steady. Sometimes he means that it is good to see someone
differently, as though he needed to know they were still there with the
same urgency that he needed oxygen, but tonight he seems...calm.
Perhaps by way of distance, but that distance seems not so much with
Ian as with the whole of the world.
"Can I get you anything?"
Ian
"I'll take some tea if you have it."
Tea
had always been something of a recurring symbol in their relationship
(such as it was.) Ian's smile was this light, subtle thing. An echo of
something quiet and honest. The gift in his hands was too large to hide,
so he hadn't bothered, but he didn't present it to Kalen, or even
bother to explain it until they'd made their way upstairs. Once there,
Ian glanced around the library. His eyes settled briefly on the box by
the sofa, but he didn't ask about it.
"Been a while since I was here."
Yes. It had been.
He
set the gift down on the coffee table. The finish on the paper was a
smooth matte, but the ribbon shimmered where the light touched it. "I
sort of got you something. You can call it a Christmas thing if you
want."
Ian slid his arms out of the sleeves of his lather
jacket and draped the coat over the back of a chair. Underneath he had
on a thin, soft black sweater with a stand-up collar that he'd left
partly unzipped.
Kalen Holliday
"Of
course." He lets Ian head into the library while he starts to make
tea. When he rejoins him with tea brewing in a clay tea pot and two
small clay cups, he nods in response to the statement about time.
"It
has been. You are, of course, always welcome." He sets down the tea
things and sinks onto the couch, regarding the gift a bit curiously.
"I
got you something also." He makes no direct mention of Christmas, not
with Ian. He looks up from the play of light on the ribbon and asks,
"What would you call it?"
Ian
"I don't think it really matters. I just... wanted to get you something."
Which
of course... is the kind of thing that people tended to think about
around Christmas. Gifts. Friends. Family. And evidently Kalen had
thought of him too. So Ian sat down on the sofa and glanced over the
long box, curious.
"I've been on the road all month with my
ballet company. This... I actually found back in November. Before I
left." After a pause, he glanced over at Kalen, watching him quietly.
"How've you been?"
Kalen Holliday
"You ask me
that as though I would know," Kalen says, but there is hint of something
more affectionate in his tone. "It has been awhile. Events unfolded,
as they do. On the whole, well enough, I think. I never know quite
what to make of this place, but I can't imagine leaving it easily."
He pours tea into the two small cups, holding one out to Ian. "How are you?"
Ian
Ian
took the offered cup and turned it slowly in his hand. Heat from the
tea rose up in tendrils of steam and baked slowly through the clay to
warm his skin. It was a green variety, the scent delicate and slightly
floral.
"I think 'complicated' is a valid answer to that
question." But whatever else he thought of Kalen's answer, Ian kept it
to himself, studying Kalen's profile for a long moment before he took a
slow sip of his tea.
"This is good. Is it bìluóchun?"
It
was another moment of distraction. Another few seconds where he
wouldn't have to try and sum up his emotional state, which... as it
happened, wasn't any easier for him than it had been for Kalen.
"I'm
glad I won't have to see any of the other dancers for the next couple
weeks." There were stories there. Some of them amusing. But they
required background knowledge into the personalities and social dynamics
of people who Kalen had never met. So Ian didn't really bother to
elaborate (any more than Kalen had done for him.) "My holiday was...
well... complicated." He laughed a little at that. "I ended up spending
it in Wisconsin."
Kalen Holliday
"It
is, like this particular tea set, a gift. None of the labeling is
decipherable to me. I could ask Kharisma. I am sure she knows." He
listens to Ian's explanation, smiling a bit when Ian laughs.
"I
see. Do you want to talk about it, or shall we just pretend those were
real answers and drink our tea and open our presents?" There is,
certainly, a willingness to listen. And, most likely, to talk. Kalen
has often been less open since everything that happened just after they
returned from their Mindscape, but he has rarely been so much guarded as
simply less willing to just speak. Those are, at least with Kalen,
different states of being.
Ian
Did he want to talk about it?
Most
of it: no. At least not like this. Not now. (Or maybe not at all. There
were some stories that were not meant to be told.) But he did offer
this: "I met a Verbena named Justin who used to live here. He said he
knew Sid." Which... might not be the best name to invoke right at that
juncture. "Anyway, he made this fucking amazing french toast."
Ian
did not eat French toast. Or any kind of toast. Or bread. Or breakfasts
that more closely resembled dessert. Everyone made exceptions to rules
once in a while.
"You should open that." Ian nodded to the gift he'd brought.
Kalen Holliday
"I
should." Kalen picks the gift up gently. His fingertips trail over
the paper, over the ribbon. He is not seeking answers about anything
under those things, but the things themselves. Paper. Ribbon.
There
are implications, there always are. But, for a few seconds at least,
Ian catches a glimpse of the boy who trained not first with the Order
but with an Ecstatic. And when, fingertips resting on the bow, Kalen
looks up, in so many ways it is not really Kalen at all. He took that
Name.
"I will. But, first, because I am...so impossibly
what I am and it has nothing to do with you - if it is hard to see, I am
glad you are here. It is good to see you. Welcome home."
And
then, as though he had not said anything at all, he returns his
attention to the bow. He regards it for a few seconds, expression
distant less because of anything but memory. And then, rather than
pulling that bow apart he slides his fingers over the ribbon again,
looking for enough slack to pull it off the package without untying the
bow.
Ian
Welcome home.
Ian didn't say anything in response to that. Just nodded. But it didn't feel dismissive.
And
then... there was that gift. It might just as easily have been someone
else who'd wrapped it. There was a neatness to it that seemed to imply a
trained hand. Kalen would be able to slide the ribbon off
without too much effort. Once he'd broken his way through the silver
paper, he'd find himself holding a large, framed photograph. The image
was a landscape at sunset: red sandstone formations haloed by deep
golden light. The angle and the play of light and shadow was artfully
done. It looked professional. On the back of the frame, there was a
little card that listed the title of the image and the photographer's
name (a woman who happened to live out in Boulder.) Maybe Kalen would
recognize the location as Red Rocks trail. If not, the card would tell
him.
Ian watched him unwrap the gift quietly. He took another sip of his tea before setting it down.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen
does recognize the landscape, evident enough in the faint smile as he
looks over the picture. The shadows. The play of the light. His
fingertips run along the frame, slide over the paper on the back,
encounter the card. Frame the shape of that too, trace over the surface
in search of raised ink.
He turns the photograph over to read
the card after that, then reorients it so he can see the picture.
Unless Ian says something, he looks at it for awhile, though whatever
he's thinking is probably not really about the picture he's staring at.
He sets it down, very gently, on the coffee table and then looks back
up at Ian.
"Thank you." He pauses, opens his mouth as if he would say something, then shakes his head.
"Your turn."
Ian
There
were two types of gifts that Ian gave to the people he knew. One was
classy but impersonal. Something simple, like a bottle of wine. The
other was... things like this. An image or a sound steeped in memory.
Regardless of how things had turned out, that trip to Red Rocks had
probably been the best day they'd spent together. A rare moment amid all
the stress and chaos and distance and misunderstanding. They'd both
been more themselves that day than they often were.
Kalen looked at it for a long time, then said simply: Thank you.
And
Ian just nodded. There might have been something there in his eyes when
he looked at Kalen. But whatever it was, the gift itself said it better
than he could.
Your turn.
"If you insist."
Ian
picked up the box and opened it carefully. He didn't spend the kind of
time that Kalen did in feeling along the surface, but his motions were
gentle and precise, untying the white ribbon and lifting the lid of the
box so that he could peer inside. Only to find... another box. This one
made of wood. He set the first box down on the table before opening the
second.
"Oh." Ian actually sounded slightly surprised by what
he found, though it was difficult to tell which variety of surprise it
was. "Is this real?" (As in: not a replica.)
Kalen Holliday
"Yes,"
Kalen says quietly. "It is." And it is, perhaps, a strange gift.
"Though I did not explore its history." And why would he trace
backward through time to see the things this blade had done? He knows
what those blades were made for, what this one has almost certainly
done.
What it has done is not so much the point as what it has survived, but he doesn't really explain that. Not now, at least.
Ian
Ian
had another sword that he often carried with him. Kalen had seen it.
That sword had a name. Perhaps this one once had, too. Both blades had
taken lives. Both blades had saved them.
Ian didn't know the
history of this sword: whether it had fought for the North or the South.
How much blood it had spilled. What kinds of things it had seen and
survived. He looked inside the box to see if there was something - a tag
or a card - that might tell him more. But there was nothing. Maybe the
sword wanted to forget. It was cleaned up. Restored to a fine sheen. Its
scars erased.
"Why the Civil War?"
Kalen Holliday
"Because
the jeweled rapier from the sunken galleon was never going to hold an
edge again?" Kalen murmurs. "I don't know, exactly. I saw it and it
was...I don't know. I think that the other people looking at it could
see it. They saw an investment or a conversation piece, but they did
not see a sword.
"I suppose I could have put it on the walls
here, but as soon as I saw it I thought of you." There is a pause.
Because both of their presents are about memory. "It is a calvary
sword," he says quietly. "It reminded me of the horses. So much of
that was horrible, but I rather came to like the horses.
"I
have one. A horse." There is a flicker a smile. "I know, it sounds
ridiculous. I...there is this rescue. And I go there sometimes. And
they don't have much space and they.... So, I have one. Boarded,
obviously. With a little horse trust fund, in case she outlives me."
Kalen Holliday: doesn't bat an eyelash at sex in a public park, yet
oddly bashful about adopting a horse. Of course.
Ian
In another life, maybe. Perhaps Ian might have been a cavalry soldier. He had the temperament for it.
"It's a nice sword. Thank you."
Ian
trailed his fingers over the hilt, then closed the box and set it back
on the table. There was an echo of something like sadness in his voice.
"I
didn't even know you liked horses." There was so much they did not know
about each other. "I went riding a few times, back when I was in high
school. My girlfriend's grandparents lived out in the country. That was
not a skill I ever thought would come in handy."
Strange, the directions that life sometimes takes you.
Kalen Holliday
"I'd
never met one until Sunshadow. I don't know if I like horses. I liked
her. I like the horses that...they're like cats though, I think. In
that they're like people. You can like or dislike people in the
abstract, I think, but either way sometimes it's not about that broad a
picture. Which manages to be both much simpler and way more
complicated.
"Sometimes, I rather like to remember that saving
things isn't always blood and nightmares and monsters. Good and evil
in a ceaseless war. Sometimes you can just go brush horses, and that
works too." Kalen smiles a little. "That probably sounds really
strange.
"There's a lot we never knew. Sometimes I wonder
what it would be like to try from something like a beginning. With less
abstraction. But we've been where we've been." He is, perhaps, a
little wistful. But somewhere in the last few months he's gotten back
enough balance that that statement is more observation than anything.
Whatever might have happened, he's let it go.
Ian
"It doesn't sound strange."
Ian picked up his tea again. Drank a few sips while Kalen talked about new beginnings.
"If
we had it to do over, we'd do it the same way." Ian turned his head to
watch Kalen. "That's the thing about evolution. You need time, and
memory." It was almost achingly similar to a conversation he'd had with
someone else only a few days ago, and that part hurt a little. Dug down
into his bones and ached like something old and vulnerable.
"I was an asshole to you. I'm sorry."
He
didn't say it because he wanted something. For once, there was no
hidden interpretation. No ulterior motive. It was simply that: an
apology.
"Anyway, how's everything going with you and... Danny?"
Kalen Holliday
"I
was being impossible at the time." Kalen smiles. "And I don't think
you were anyway. But, even so, apology accepted. For whatever you
think merits such a thing.
"Danny is something. I don't know
how that will go. There's a lot I can't really...he isn't young really,
but-" Kalen sighs. "I was young when I Awakened. I never really got
to be a child. He and I...I know that he loves the parts of me he can
understand. And I know he thinks he can accept the parts of me that are
so far outside his experience. But he doesn't really know. He can't
understand the places I've been and the things I've done.
"And
I don't want him to. Everything he is...he is because he hasn't had to
face the kinds of things I have. He's all wonder and light." Kalen
smiles. "I love him. He loves me. But I don't know what this will
really ever be."
"I think out of all of Denver the people who
have understood me best have been Alexander and Pan and you. Serafine
is...I don't know what she is. But perhaps also Serafine."
Ian
Ian
pressed his lips together and made a low, quiet sound. There was a long
few seconds of silence before he said, "I'm surprised you'd include me
in that group." His tea sat, momentarily abandoned, in the grasp of one
hand. He set it down, then leaned back in the sofa, folding one of his
arms behind his head.
"Have you slept with him yet?"
Kalen Holliday
"We
did manage fail at understanding each other, yeah. But when we did,
when we do, it's amazing." There is a soft little amused huff. "They
don't always understand either. Actually, I don't think Pan really
does, so much as he is willing to patiently tolerate the fact that have
freaked out and decided that I will hug him now until I stop shaking and
he can redirect my attention to things like whiskey. Or decide that he
is going to drag me to hospital cafeterias and force me to eat for the
fist time in days and then sleep. He's...very good at not letting me go
insane. Or starve.
"I've always assumed that's just a
superpower you get when you become a priest." Yes, Kalen. You take a
vow of chastity and God grants you patience. No. That is totally not
how that actually works.
He drops his head a little and clears his throat. "And. Ah. No. Not in the sense that you mean."
Ian
Surely
Ian wanted to say something to that. Anyone who really knew him would
probably be waiting for it. Ian, for who things like love (if he'd ever
even experienced it) came only after he'd known someone in every way
possible. Ian, who tied sex and intimacy so closely that they were
almost indistinguishable.
He'd made a joke about it, back at
that bar. When Kalen had first met Danny. About how arranged matches
weren't exactly the best breeding ground for sexual chemistry. But he'd
been teasing then, mostly because Kalen had sounded so unenthusiastic
about it. Now Kalen and Danny's relationship was something altogether
different. Not this casual, theoretical thing, but something real.
So instead of teasing him - instead of making one of the countless Ian-ish remarks that almost certainly came to mind - he just asked, "Do you want to?"
Kalen Holliday
"Yeah,
I just-" He gives Ian a look that is half-amused, half-bashful.
"Jenna pretty much pounced me, Kharisma and Jack involved some altered
states of consciousness, and other than you everyone else was pretty
much a one-night stand. I am great with sleeping with people I don't
plan to see again. I'm...I don't even know.
"I think about
it, and then I want it to be perfect, and then I don't know, I get
sidetracked about what color rose petals and then spend an afternoon
researching floromancy. Or things like that. That one hasn't happened.
Yet. I just think about it until I don't do it.
"You've met me. You know what happens when I start thinking about things."
Ian
There
was a light bubble of laughter from Ian. Something warm and relaxed.
For a moment he closed his eyes and gave this slow, amused shake of his
head.
"Sex isn't perfect Kalen. It's sex. If you want to fuck the guy, then go and fuck him. It's not rocket science. How did you even stand it, waiting this long?" He raised an eyebrow and nudged Kalen with his knee.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen
bats at the air near Ian. "Kharisma and Jack do live here. It's
hardly as though I'm not sleeping with anyone." He laughs. "But okay,
point made."
Ian
"You should text him right now. Or if you want, give the phone to me and I'll do it." Ian's grin curled up all sly and cunning.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen
laughs. "I'm not even sure I can begin to quantify all of the reasons
there is something very wrong with this." But, even so, he selects a
contact and then gives Ian his phone. There are...almost no normal
names in Kalen's phone. All strange Kalen names.
"If you're
going to ruin my life, do try to at least make it something we can laugh
about over drinks like ten years from now." He does not sound at all
concerned that Ian is going to ruin anything.
Ian
Ian's wry amusement broke into a surprised laugh when Kalen, against what was likely his better judgment, handed over his phone.
"Alright."
There
was a quick glance thrown Kalen's way, before Ian leaned over with his
elbows on his thighs and turned his attention to the screen. For a few
seconds, he sat there thinking. Then he typed:
Hey. I
know I should have said this earlier, but sometimes I overthink things
and then they don't happen. You're fucking beautiful. I want to taste
the skin below your belly button. I want to know what you sound like
when you cum. I've wanted that for a while. Please come over?
Then he hit send and tossed the phone back into Kalen's lap.
"Either he's coming over, or he's not interested. Either way, you're welcome."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen
picks up the phone, glances at it, and then laughs. "Thanks for that.
If he doesn't show I promise to go take Alexander up on his promise to
have ice cubes and whiskey at all hours and not make you deal with it."
Ian
"If he doesn't, he's an idiot."
Ian
stood up. "If the offer of security access still stands, we should
probably take care of that now. Before another few months go by. Then I
can take off."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen laughs at Ian of all people claiming that not coming to sleep with Kalen makes one an idiot. "It stands. Let's do that."
