Irina—as Rush has somewhat suspected—does not look so surprised. Indeed, it seems as if she has known for quite some time, or at least had a sure inkling as to the identity of the mystery guy.
David, on the other hand, gives the most gobsmacked expression. Or, at least, as much as a Marquis can, which is incidentally only a partially opened mouth and widened eyes but that is enough for Rush to gain some amusement out of it. "How can that be?" Rapidly, he gains composure and strides forward, gaze focused upon Rush and the mirth fades in the darker-haired male, only to be replaced by dread once more.
His gaze averts to the ground. "I'm not too sure, Dave, but I know what I saw."
"If that is you then…" The Marquis' head shifted slightly, and he half-turns towards Irina. Rush doesn't even have the energy to even feel that dark gnawing in his being when David puts a query forth to her. "Irina? What did you sense? Was he…?"
She moves forward and she is only looking at Rush. Her expression is grave, and Rush wishes she would stop gazing at him as if he were dying. "I think he's the one we were looking for." Her gaze averts to the ground. "There… were so many Remnants in him. I'm not sure how that's even possible but… that's why it's so hard to even resist that much power over time."
"Remnants?" Rush murmurs and he looks down to his hands. So that explained the strange lines across his counterpart's face, the vividness of those brilliant green hues and even that voice, seemingly burdened with speaking for many. As to how that number of Remnants had gotten into him, well…
It makes sense, if I'm a Remnant too.
"Rush?" David approaches him once more, and his features are nothing less than that of concern. "What are you thinking?"
What is he supposed to say? How is he supposed to even take this? Nothing in this lifetime would have prepared him for this; there is nothing to fall back on, nothing to make sense of when reacting to this very situation and—Rush would have taken fighting the Conqueror right here, and right now over this. Still, the thought of their enemy does not make him feel any better; the last thing … himself said to him was-
He says the first thing that comes to mind, and perhaps that's all that matters.
"He said not to oppose the Conqueror."
"You are certain, then, that that was truly Rush you encountered?" Pagus' voice fills Athlum's throne room now, and the Qsiti's features are as grave as the rest of them.
It has been a few days; David had a forced march all the way back to Athlum. They could not afford, he said, to waste time now, not with this matter over their heads. The journey back had been quiet, and Rush was glad it'd been that way. He didn't think he could handle anything other than his own roiling thoughts. As it is now, he leans against a nearby pillar, not entirely willing to take any part in the discussion, even if it is concerning himself in the distant future.
"We are." He can hear David reply, and a sigh parts Rush's lips. What exactly is his future self thinking exactly? "Unfortunately, it seems he is siding with the Conqueror. We should expect no further interactions with him unless absolutely necessary."
There is silence, as Rush expects. Both Emmy and Blocter glance back at him, shock obvious in their features—also expected.
David looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face? Somewhat expected.
A sudden column of light cascading from the ceiling right in front of Rush, in the middle of the throne room?
Not expected at all.
"Ah-!" There's a brief yell of fright from Rush as he jumps, trying to back away but of course, there's the pillar he'd been leaning against, there in the way but before he can try to inch around it so as to give himself some cover from the threat. Worry erupting within him, he glances towards David and the others—good. They seem to be unharmed; all of the Generals are already on point with their duty, standing protectively before the Marquis while David himself had Kellendros out, ready to fire at will. Inwardly, he's glad that Irina and their parents have gone off to spend some time in the city together, at least they're safe—though there may a small twinge in his chest at the thought of them going without him, he cannot entirely deny that he'd basically refused to go in the first place.
He was needed here, he'd said. Not that anything exciting had happened until, well, now.
Drawing his sword carefully, he can make out a figure coalescing from the light, slowly standing from what seems to be a crouched position and oh—the person seemed tall, perhaps a few inches more than Rush. Despite the suddenness of this appearance, the Sykes felt that there is nothing to be alarmed at.
Yeah, tell yourself that when he lunges at you with a sword.
He tightens his defence.
The incandescence slowly begins to fade. Particles of light disperse into the ceiling and Rush begins to actually recognize the figure dusting their clothes. His jaw slowly drops, and all he can think about is the dream that he'd had on the way to the Holy Plains.
David moves to the front of his entourage, slipping between his (most likely) shocked Generals. Apparently, he hasn't realized yet the sheer magnitude of who exactly has crash-landed into their meeting. Or maybe, he just can't identify him.
Which makes sense. Rush thinks vaguely, though I might've been a little faster when I was in his position.
"Who are you? State your intentions!" David's voice rings out, and it is strong and clear and when Rush looks at him, it seems as if he does have suspicions, he knows but he has to confirm it first. Around him, the Generals are slowly waking from their shock and though uncertain, they are fast to tense once more, weapons at the ready as well as themselves should their Lord command them to battle, no matter the identity of this newcomer.
After all, if Rush's counterpart isn't on their side, how can they trust David's counterpart?
"I am Lord David Nassau, Duke of Athlum." The answering tone is just as strong and it is as Rush suspects though he is confused at the change in title. He doesn't much understand what it means—another thing he'll have to ask Pagus about—but he gets his answer straight away.
David's eyes widen at the other's words, and lips part in shock. There's a strangled sound in his throat and he takes one step forward, one step down from his throne and his head shifts to the side, a manner that Rush has noticed about him whenever sceptical or even surprised about something enough to question it.
"Athlum… is independent?" The Marquis sounds stunned yet there is an underlying tone of happiness in it. To know that one day he will reach his goal must be something extraordinary and Rush smiles then, despite the situation. He's glad the other does manage to do it, even if he learns it in a rather unconventional manner.
To his surprise, the older Nassau does not seem to mind carrying on such a conversation. "It is. In my past, the Duke of Qubine decided to spring it on us when informing me that I was to be acting chairman for Congress."
Rush isn't entirely sure when that time will come, but he doesn't focus on that. A grin splitting his features now, he takes a step forward, a hand already rising for a fist pump. "Alright, Dave!" Despite the unexpected situation, everyone seems to be carrying on normally enough, especially David. Apparently, his measure of composure is limitless except when it comes to Athlum's independence, even in the face of his apparent future self. The Generals, however, seems to be a little more sceptical yet… observant, if that is even the correct word. They're appraising the person that seems to be an older version of their current Lord, and Rush can't exactly blame them. It's not as if he himself isn't checking the guy out.
In a totally non-sexual way, of course.
… Then again, older David did have a sweet A. It certainly isn't helped at all by the garments he now wore; laced with the colours of Athlum, black and red, it is a far cry from what the younger David is wearing now (in clothes that, Rush admits, leaves far too much to the imagination though of course that never derailed from the beauty that is David Nassau as a whole). He never understood the heavy garments that the Dukes wore, but at least David, when older stood out from that.
Rush appreciates that. Well, that and his fine figure.
"I apologize, Rush…" Apparently, Rush has zoned out enough to not even notice fast this older version of David can move; already he is there in front of him and Rush can see, out of the corner of his eye, the Generals move forward in alarm. However, the younger David lifts a hand, eyes intent on his counterpart who is now kneeling before Rush, head bowed and how had he not noticed it when his motionless hand was taken? Dark hues are wide upon the actions the David in front of him is going through and he notes how easily the man seems to press his forehead against the exterior of Rush's palm and ultimately he is unmoving, incredibly confused at the outcome of these events and he can only stand stock still, gaping as David not only kneels and takes his hand, but also kisses it.
A distant part of him is wildly happy at this course of action. Even if it isn't the exact time period, David is here and he's taking his hand, he's pressing those warm lips against his skin and he can feel those callouses upon his fingers, can feel how rough they are and he shivers, utterly taken by how mesmerizing David is, no matter how old he may be (surely not that much older, for there is not a wrinkle to be seen) and—
And Rush wonders why these thoughts are even taking place in his head in the first place. He hasn't… he doesn't like David in that way, right? Sure, he found him attractive but he doesn't think he's considered anything romantic, doesn't think there's been a single notion towards it—
( foolish m h a c ;
- remnants do not l o v e like MITRA do )
When had he started…?
( to be bound is ETERNAL ; to bind willingly is to love blindly
have you chosen well, m h a c? )
"But I must implore you of something." David's voice is soft and deep and there is that accent he loves lacing his tone and Rush sways to it, finds himself nodding as if in a trance and there is a call in the distance but all Rush can focus on right now are those deep eyes, such sharp features and often cute face and he cannot help himself—a hand raises to clasp atop the other's own and he notes now how long David's hair has grown, only just slightly past his shoulders but it still frames handsome features perfectly.
David's next words are both a plea and a command and something else altogether.
"Stay with me."
( a trick )
An unheard whisper.
Rush draws in a breath then, and right now it seems like David is the only person within his sights, the only person that matters and he is the one that he'll live for, fight for, and die for. He'll protect him, he won't ever let him get harmed and no one is to ever touch him for—
David Nassau is his.
"Luminescence…?" There is a whisper of awe to the side, the only word heard by him for it is one that resonates because he knows this is what is happening, knows that the light illuminating both himself and David is exactly that and he finds he doesn't mind it, doesn't mind being bound to him. They own each other and that is enough, that is enough for Rush to pin all his loyalties on him, to trust him completely and readily and…
"Dave…" He murmurs aloud, and his eyelids feel strangely heavy. He cannot tear his eyes away from David's and he supposes he doesn't mind this either.
"Stop!" The voice seems distant. Rush doesn't pay any attention to it, and neither does David.
The light around them starts to fade. Rush's knees buckle then, and he feels strangely weak. "Sorry." The soft murmur escapes him, apology for being so weak in the first place and unable to neither move nor serve him the right way he should be doing. He feels arms wrap around him comfortingly, but he does not think it is out of forgiveness.
"What are you doing to him?! Release him!" He hears swords being drawn, the sound of running now, steps light upon the ground and there are several people coming, attempting to intercede and hurt David and there is a flare of panic up his spine; he would not allow harm to come to David, not while Rush is right here-!
"Rush." He lifts his head and—yeah,Dave?Anythingyouwantmetodo,Dave?—the other's features are so close to his own and he only stares, enamoured with how finely those features are structured, how mature they have become and David is gorgeous, truly and completely— "Protect me."
Anything.
It is instantaneous how much power laces through his very being, his veins and he can flex it with just the power of his will despite his previously weak state; he is able to do anything and be anything for David and he follows the command immediately, feels the light come back and envelope them both and expand and protect them, a shell of sorts and the approaching enemies are buffeted away and one… one cry of agony reaches his ears and he stiffens at the sound, feels his hand clench painfully in response, because… it's ultimately familiar but why can't he place it…?
"Come."
He stands at David's command and feels a little stronger. The shield is still up and it is still draining his energy, but he doesn't mind, he doesn't care as long as it protects David. There is an arm around his waist, as if sensing his imbalance, and he's grateful that the other would even bother helping support him. His gaze flickers over the weary figures upon the floor, the enemies that had tried to harm the one beside him and they are lower than dirt, they are slime and if Rush had more power, then he would crush them where they lay.
Except… one is getting up. Shakily, and using his sword to support him. For some reason, Rush's chest aches at the sight. Strange.
"Enthrallment?" The unknown person spits out, and there is a heavy glare from him, from stormy hues that speak legions of command and wisdom yet they reduce to agitated worry for… for Rush? "Is binding him not enough for you? Why must you stoop so low as to keep him under your thrall? Don't you...?" There is pure confusion and anger in that tone, and Rush feels himself move slightly towards him, feels his desires shifting—because this male is hurt and he needs attention and he'd sworn…!—but there is this fog in his mind, overwhelming in nature and the arm at his waist tightens.
"Don't you love him?"
Lights begin to build up around both their forms, a tell-tale sign of some sort of Art, though it is wholly unrecognizable, likely something created in the future. Rush looks up, and the reality around him is fading, crumbling around them and the process is familiar, if anything else.
And before they disappear completely, David's answer is simple, soft, and sorrowful.
"More than you know."