Sunblind Appreciation

"I suppose there is a noble quality to it. How else am I to improve myself, if I never knew whom I truly am?"

He'd smile at Alastair, his head tilting down to look at the wine in his glass. He swirled it watching as it splashed around the glass. The wide upwards turn of his lips causing his face to feel perhaps a little hot, hotter than usual. The sun-tanned skin taking a tint to it as he listened to the dry delivery. Some part of him enjoyed to hear him speak like that, even with the intention behind it. The way his name came from his friend lips.

He looked upwards to meet the gaze of the other Quincy, silently. He searched within those red eyes for something, perhaps a deeper truth or intention. Uriel knew it would take more than an ample amount of alcohol for him to become drunk, thus he wasn't worried about letting something slip. That being his past of course. Nothing else. Even with his own walled off pain, this was such a confusing situation. A bit infuriating too.

He brought the wine glass to his lips, taking a healthy drink. Before placing it down, shaking his head letting out a small sigh. "What you to say, huh?" He'd muse teasingly, his head tilted to the side. What a strange question, to dwell on. "I quite enjoy your personality. It's refreshing, in a way I've seldom experienced recently. It is beautiful in it's own way." He'd remark turning to face the male once more, offering a sheepish smile. Perhaps almost comical considering the difference in the twos height.

By the saints, he felt like a high schooler. This was simply a favor done for a friend in need. A compliment even.

"It will be some time, before the food is ready. Thirty minutes or so." He'd comment, unable to maintain looking at him for very long. Quickly making some work for himself, looking to refill his own glass with the wine. This was all so very strange, to him, now.

Little did Alastair know, his first comment was enough to be considered a compliment by the gentle giant. He listened deeply as the other male spoke, finishing having poured his own drink. Of course he'd lift the bottle upwards inquisitively at Alastair to see if he wanted more, if he did he'd pour him another glass. The reddened face being ignored, for one reason or another.

But when he did bring his gaze upwards, even he couldn't deny the pleasing sight. The soft blush on pale skin, illuminated by the lights and highlighted with the hard eyes of Al. Eyes which reminded of a distant figure, long gone. It only brought him closer to the male, leaning forward slightly at what he had to say.

"Music, and conversation would be nice." The low baritone of his voice, in his voice spoke with ease. Curious to what the other man might have in mind, he'd tilt his head to the side. This caused his gaze to focus on the mess of wild hair on his head, something which caused him to furrow his brow. It looked soft, admittedly, but wild. Unkempt even. Which was perhaps the strangest thing for someone often so formal.

A callous hand would move slowly from his glass, to the hair on the side of his head. In a motion which broke all bounds of propriety that he did not care for, fingers would attempt to run through it slowly. Examining the texture, and length, trying to avoid knots before finally speaking.

"How do you maintain this, this forest? Let alone, look far handsomer than you have a right to, Alastair? I barely manage with mine." He'd finally say, almost exasperatedly.

There would be, however, an amused smile on his lips. A part of him internally wondering, what compelled him to do that. Perhaps he merely wished to break the hard façade he had.

He supposed he should have expected this, he was too bold. Far too aggressive in every event her took part in. Some part of him was yelling at himself for breaking ranks like this, indulging himself in a way which he held no right to. Despite that he had performed such a risk prone action without thinking as to how or why he could explain it. To himself, and the other man before him. It was hardly becoming of himself to run from the inevitable truth before him, regardless of what the outcome was. Blue irises caught red eyes, juxtaposed in more ways than one.

There was still the issue of his hand which now sat idly in the hair of the other, moving not an inch as silent filled the area. The tightening of the jaw of Uriel evident, the internal conflict bring something to light. At the end of the day, the fact the question remained in his own head showed that something.. different was afoot. Soon his head would turn away facing towards the window-wall, staring into the city of lights. Briefly thinking he might change the subject before dismissing such a thought.

"I must be honest, to perhaps the frustration to us both." He'd mutter as his hand sought to slowly withdraw, perhaps some internal part wishing he'd stop him. Although, within his heart of hearts, he knew such an action would not be taken. Why he wanted such a thing caused a pit to fall within his stomach, the soldier-warrior feeling a heavy lead now in his throat. "I do not quite know." The heavy words left his mouth in the closest thing to a confession which could be offered. Without looking at him, he did not feel very bright in this moment.

As if the sun it's self was consuming it's own core, unable to produce light. Worry caught on the edge on his features, as slow realization washed across his face. This could not be, he had never- surely- not. Yet, now he stood here in the room of a man whom he barely knew but felt a great and intense passion towards. In the exchange of blows, and the brief words they shared, he felt as if something was gleamed from one another.

And that, held a profound effect on the soldier.

"I apologize, perhaps I have made a grave mistake. I do not know what I was, what I am, quite thinking Alastair." He'd add on preparing to seemingly turn to the Oven, most likely to make some excuse about the food needing checking. Already preparing to say something else if he was not stop, clearly feeling all the fool. He was not even able to give a straight answer, to himself or the other male. It felt like a great lump rested on his adam's apple, wishing to be said but unable to be brought to the surface.

He felt, pitiful.

When the weakened male grasped Uriel’s hand a part of him seemed to freeze. As if his mind could not properly process what he was supposed to feel. And then he spoke. Words which themselves did little to ease the storm within him. A flash of rapid emotion seemed to form in his head, in his chest. That lump which has formed growing more, until it was going to spill from his mouth. Because in this moment, after Alastair finished everything he said- buttons where pressed.

He was a lot of thing, some better than others. But he was not a bloody coward.

Silently, perhaps with far more force than he should, he would begin to remove the pan from the oven. Each movement sharp, clearly that of someone whom held a great deal of aggression in them. He didn’t even bother to use oven mitts, just grabbing the hot pan without a bother in the world. Holding the searing pot, he’d place it on top of the stove preparing the meal proper.

Finally, he’d turn around as the food began to cool. It would need some time, serving it hot wouldn’t be ideal. But that wasn’t what was on his mind. Instead his blue irises seemed to narrow on Alastair. The same hard look he gave him, and the same hard look he saw in the arena. It appeared he’d tackle this, with the same all consuming flame he could barely contain.

“I’m no coward.” The words left his mouth with perhaps more force than he intended, like that of a man who had his character brought into question. He walked from around the bar, to directly in front of the male. Or at least to his side, a hand resting on the bar. His face contorting into that determined, unyielding expression so very often seen. “I’m a lot of things. I wouldn’t call myself a good man. Not with the things I’ve done. The things I still do.” He’d stop himself for a moment, his eyes moving away from Alastair- as if he couldn’t meet his gaze once again.

But just as quickly, the soldier-warrior brought his gaze back. Reaffirmed, disregarding consequence and action. Because at the end of the day, he had charged through life meeting conflict daily. To shy away from this, would be a betrayal of the true aspect of himself. “But what I am, right now, regardless of tomorrow or yesterday, is here. Because I was compelled to seek you out, after nearing killing you. I saw a man whom risked everything, gave everything to me when they did not need to.” He’d close his hand into a fist which rested on the bar, the elegance of Alastair juxtaposed against the almost roughness of Uriel.

“I know what it is, man. Running from such things like a child. Alastair, God damn you.” He’d mutter through clinched, defiant teeth. Let this be over, let the pain come. He did not shy from it. “I have never felt an attraction to another man, and yet, here I am. I barely know you, and yet, here I am.” He’d remark with a laugh, shaking his head as he allowed the words to slip.

Perhaps he was merely playing the role of tough man, or maybe he had simply remembered who he was. Perhaps he didn’t care to be rejected, at least he could be honest about this. In a web of lies, where truth and lie became blurred, these feelings could at least be true. And as defiant, perhaps even angry eyes, stared at Alastair it was very much the same man whom he had fought with.

Set ablaze with that internal fire, threatening to consume him. For as much as the Sun gave life, to bask in it too long would bring destruction.

Defiant eyes and bruised skin. That was what Alastair was. A broken and beaten man who's body had been scorched by the sun for daring to step too close. The wax from his wings had melted, and he plummeted towards the sea. But within that body, within those red irises, was the spirit of an undefeated man. The sort of thing that dead philosophers spoke of, that undefeated spirit of mankind that all men where born with. Men such as he where made to be broken by life, and yet, remain undefeated in soul.

Uriel craned his neck down to look at the male who had stepped to him, once more pressing closer to the sun. As if knowing that one stray move, one errant motion, could result in his collapse. Even if Uriel himself knew he could not bring himself to inflict further pain upon him in this moment, such a thing could not be confirmed by Alastair. Gone was the timidity which had briefly clouded his brain and vision, replaced with bold determination. A dangerous thing when one did not fully know what their determination was towards.

He couldn't help but grin, to crack that wide predatory smile Alastair had saw when they fought. The smile of a man whom had given himself up utterly to the now, to the stand within a hurricane and bask in it's fury. Whatever the result, he didn't care. Because in this moment, staring down at the fiery hair'd male, he could at least true to himself.

"I said it during the fight. To place one's blood, life, or honor on a worthy cause was glorious enough. To achieve victory, or fail with sufficient grace, is an aware in its self." He'd remark in a low baritone, watching for movement of Alastair. A life of war had not allowed him to know peace, even in a moment like this, some part of him felt prepared for battle. "That man is in front of you, and now he asks you, in that carnage did you feel it as well?" He'd question, edging closer a half-step.

He lifted a hand upwards, placing it against his own heart. The steady powerful beat of the organ a testament to the now. That he was alive. "Every day I awake knowing today may be my last, Alastair. Knowing that I chose this path, and between every beat of my heart, I move forward. I am good at it. I do enjoy it." His heavy hand would close into a fist on his chest, looking down at it briefly before slowly moving it forward. With care, but enough to be felt, he'd press the fist against Alastair's own.

"Because, I know it is not why I fight that matters. Only that, I do fight."