ombranera | Open RP Post

Zevran gives Cade a fair while to sort the idea out properly. It is a vast change in how things seem to be done, a step to the left of what might have been expected. Honestly- it is not something he thought he might offer but when presented with that option, to do something and have it done- for it to be neat and final in such a way? how can he not. It is a clean, elegant solution to a highly convoluted problem.

But when Cade remains silent for too long, when he seems to be less considering and more, well, panicking and winding himself tighter and tighter? Zevran speaks, voice a sudden, sharp, authoritative crack in the otherwise quiet room. "Cade."

Cade gives a start as though Zevran just pinched him, and he looks at the elf again as if seeing him there for the first time. His blush hasn't gone down, and he's still visibly in considerable distress, but at long last he swallows dryly and nods.
His heart is thundering so hard he wonders if he's going to pass out, but fortunately, that isn't in the cards. Instead he just sits there, frozen and uncomfortable and afraid to speak.

"Finish your next chapter of the book, return to your room and rest for an hour; then meet me here." The weight of his voice remained the same; a man laying out orders, not suggestions. It will take time to prepare the room appropriately, to gather the tools required for this and for what might come after. "Understood?"

It would be difficult to Cade to look more surprised than he already does, but he manages it.
...today?? In an hour?
Even more hypotheticals are being made... less so, and he finds a great nervousness growing within him. But again, he nods. He glances down at his book, realizes there's no way he's going to be able to concentrate on it, and just closes it instead, removing the blanket to fold it over one arm as he prepares to slink out.
His face has gone from red to white.

Zevran remains where he is, watching Cade make up his mind and make his way out. He makes no motion to leave until after Cade has left and had time enough to make some headway to his room. Then? He got to work. Hauling everything to this room took time, double checking the roof and doors so that he could be certain of soundproofing, he was half tempted to bring up a cot of some sort but that would likely leave Cade far too skittish for his own good.

A switch (as discussed) and a few other options laid out neatly off to one side, a brazier for warmth, a bag with restraints (if needed), a pair of chairs, a jar of salve- it is involved, this business, and likely not at all what Cade envisioned when he agreed. Yet Zevran sat once everything was arranged to his liking, left both doors unlocked- and waited.

It's safe to say there is a profound lack of resting when Cade returns to his room, and he is so on-edge that he even snaps at the Tranquil who approaches to escort him. Of course, he immediately feels terrible and murmurs an apology (not that they care one way or the other), but it's not exactly setting the greatest tone for the rest of the night.

He spends the entire hour pacing and ruminating and cursing himself, on the one hand terrified of what might result from any of this, including but not limited to further ruination of his life and social connections, the deepening of his disgust with himself-- it's going pretty strong at the moment-- and, of course, the ever-present worry that he will end up right back where he started, silent and frightened and completely at the mercy of someone who's perfectly happy to use him for their own ends.

His mouth is dry and his palms sweaty when he arrives, exactly on time of course, and he isn't so presumptuous as to simply walk in. He knocks, and waits, and a big part of him hopes no one will answer.

"Come in, have a seat." Zevran stands to lock the door opposite, waiting for Cade to slip inside before locking the door from whence he came. He doesn't look at him to start, speaking in his most soothing tone; as expected Cade is wound tight, skittish. "Before we do anything at all, this rule is one neither of us is to break. If you want this to stop, if you feel unsettled or uncomfortable, if the pain is too much to bear or you simply cannot stand to be in this room with me a moment longer- you say a word and this stops. No questions are asked, you are free to leave. It can be 'Stop' or it can be anything else you feel is appropriate. If you cannot think of anything? I can provide a word for you."

Cade steps inside and does as he's instructed, and when he sits it becomes clear how badly both his knees and his hands are shaking. He nods to what Zevran says, his mind clearly racing, though he's paying attention as best he can. He glances at the far door, his chest tightening nervously, but he tries to shake it off. He can leave whenever he wants.
But he can't help but measure this feeling against his tired dismay at the vast, indefinite future of having no privacy and feeling like a misbehaving animal. Leaving would mean admitting that that's what he would prefer, and he's not sure he does.

"And...if this is too much for you tonight, if you would rather leave and come back another time when you are more settled or more certain? That is fine just as well." He meant it when he said this is all in Cade's hands. Getting him to realize the truth of that? Might take some time.

Zevran walks a wide circle to the chair across from Cade before settling in, hands in plain view, eyes warm, considering. "Here there is no judgement save for those in the rules we make. Understand?"

If he leaves now, Cade knows he'll never come back. He'll avoid Zevran every time he sees him, and pretend this never happened, and the opportunity will be gone. Tired of his shaking hands, he wraps them around himself and presses them under his arms, his knees still bouncing nervously.

"Will anyone know?" he asks, already afraid of the answer.

"That is up to you. Unless you tell me, explicitly, otherwise? This is between us. You have my word on that." There is little that he holds somewhat sacred- but this trust? Is one he does not mean to break.

This reassures Cade somewhat, especially with the additional knowledge that he could, in theory, tell anyone he wants without ostensibly betraying any vows. He nods again, anxiously, his eyes darting around as though he's waiting for someone to burst in and start condemning him.
His gaze finally lands on Zevran again, but only for a moment, in a look that's almost expectant before he drops his gaze again. He's going to die if he sits here too much longer.

"Have you thought of a word- or would you like me to offer you one?" Several came to mind ranging from 'stop' to 'red' to several words in Antivan- but it must be short and definitive. A way his mind knew would mean freedom.

Cade goes into that totally silent, void-gazing state again for several long moments, then he returns and swallows hard. "Stop is fine," he decides, his voice a hoarse whisper. He has no idea what else someone would choose.

"When you say stop, it stops. Whatever it is we are doing for whatever reason, no questions asked." Here he stands- walking not to Cade but to the arrangement of implements he'd brought with him. "Before we do anything- aside from this not being sexual in any possible way- what other limitations do you have? What do you not want done to you, what should never be said?"

Cade follows Zevran with his gaze, of course still impossibly nervous, but becoming more and more confident that he isn't going to be hurt in any way that isn't superficial. Still, that in itself is enough to keep him on-edge.
"..um," he falters, once again having to think hard. He's never been asked this. Limitations? Do those.... matter? He has never been in anything even close to this situation, and off the top of his head, it's difficult to imagine what kinds of things could go wrong.
"...I don't..." he finally begins, waffling on how to start, "...um, I don't want to be... touched." He glances uncertainly at Zevran, wondering if he's on the right track.

"No hands on you at all- not in your hair or on your shoulders if you become distressed?" He nods even as he pokes about the specifics. The more he knows, the better care he might be able to take of Cade. "For me- when things become like this and I am on the other end- I do not like being held by the back of my neck."

Sometimes offering ideas can help along the understanding of someone that is new to this. "I do not care to be told I have no worth nor set up to fail. Some people enjoy that but- I do not. And that is not the purpose of this for you, I think."

This is so complicated.
Cade has to pause and think again, and shakes his head, indicating he's certain: he doesn't want hands anywhere, at any time. Perhaps his mind will change, but he's not thinking that far ahead. For now, he only knows that even friendly touching makes his stomach tie in knots and his blood run cold.

"You've been on the other end?" he asks timidly. Along the same lines, he doesn't know what he does or doesn't want to be told; that one single time in the abbey, it was very quick and straightforward, without much speaking at all.

"I was on the other end last week." He crackles a soft laugh. "It is more rare for me to be on this side of things to be honest. Not many are comfortable putting an elf in a position of power over them, even if only an illusion of power is offered."

"No touching, I can do that. Or, not do that as you like. Is there anything else that you can think of? If not we may move on to the switch- though I had thoughts on that as well." As Cade could see from the switch, cane, flogger, cat, paddle, and whip laid out in a neat row to his side.

Cade immediately feels ashamed at that-- not so long ago, he was treating elves like servants regardless of their wardrobe. Not to mention how he treated Beleth, a mistake that will likely haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he did apologize. Even if she forgave him.

Having bravely returned to his usual color for most of the conversation, he immediately flushes a bright red again when he's shown the tableau. He covers half his face with his hand, but leaves his eyes free to look them over. His gaze lands on the flogger, which catches his interest if only because it's so much more pleasant looking than the one he made for himself.
"..um," he says, almost too quietly to be heard, "I, um. ...use that. Usually." He frees one hand long enough to gesture at it, then tucks it at his side again. "...it's different, though."

"You flog yourself?" Zevran takes the handle and turns it about to offer it to Cade. It has a weight to it, the leather Antivan. Wide, heavy strips that offer more of a thudding sensation when it came to the work than the stinging nettles of a cat. "Give it a swing to test the weight, tell me what you think."

Of the options available- Zevran is most inclined to try that for Cade. All the more so now that he has expressed some familiarity with it.

Another shy nod, but this one comes more easily. It's somehow less difficult to admit when discussing it with someone who won't be shocked, who won't judge him for it. He takes the flogger in his hands and feels it, impressed by the smoothness of it.
As he was instructed, he gives it a test swing onto his own thigh, and gives a jump of surprise at the sound it makes. His reaction actually elicits a brief and timidly amused smirk-- he doesn't often laugh at himself, or anything at all, but there's nothing like effectively jumping at his own shadow to put things in perspective.
"I'm used to rope," he quietly admits, carefully handing it back. "..and... knots." Rather than press his hands back against his sides, he folds them in his lap, perhaps an indication of his ever-so-slightly increasing comfort level.

"Mm. I do have a knotted cat that might sting the same, but what rope work I do is more for restraint than it is striking. It is less consistent and more difficult to control than leather." Zevran takes the flogger back, offering over the aforementioned cat with thinner strips and knotted ends. The swish is more of a hiss, the strike meant to sting. For him this is much like discussing the weather, or food. It simply is one more part of life in general- though one that was tainted for him and he slowly reclaimed by learning more for himself. To do this, to do it better than he was taught, to offer more consideration.

This one actually hurts when Cade swings it against his leg, enough to cause a little intake of breath. He runs it over his fingers as well, getting a feel for the texture and the weight of it, and as he hands it back to Zevran, his demeanor seems to shift from slightly amused curiosity back to grim and dutiful. He nods. This one.

"As you wish." Zevran flicks the cat so it hangs at his shoulder, the tails on one side, the handle swinging free against his chest. Every other implement is set back in the leather bag he'd brought in with him.

"This will sting quite a bit- I know you said during you would not wish to be touched- but afterward. When we are finished; I would rather apply salve to your back to ensure you do not walk away with more than bruising- or that you take few sips of a healing potion. Whichever you find more agreeable."

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