because you said please. no real warnings for this one, mentions of Belle, has some religious elements. it's not particularirly romantic, but it is still centric around Keiss and Layle and their relationship. i guess it's kind of charater study-esque.
5.
Pondering your own existence is a waste of time.
Did Layle honestly believe that?
Of course he did.
Layle didn't lie; he had no reason to. He had nothing to gain from lying, and nothing to lose from telling the truth.
Keiss guessed things must've been an awful lot easier that way, at least compared to the way he (himself) had learned to live. Behind every corner of his mind was another deception, and in each tiny crack hid the guilt he held for each lie.
Needless to say, there were plenty of corners and tiny cracks in the Selkie's mind.
And to ponder his existence was often times all he could think to do.
What was left to do after the crystal bearer had gone missing?
Sure, as the guild master, he was to keep things in check—he had promised himself that he would better the Selkie tribe. Turn them nobler; enforce a sense of pride to his people.
And of course, he was more or less right hand man of the chief detective in Layle's missing person's case. Who was the top dog in this case?
Belle.
Belle: the woman who loved that over confident Clavat more than anything, and cared of nothing else aside from his whereabouts. Though she certainly knew what she was doing, and had good intentions, Keiss knew she really couldn't help it—
She just made trouble.
It was what she did, it was who she was, and often times her most 'legit' information lead to some of the most dangerous places in the Lilty kingdom, and despite what she said, Keiss knew that she could simply not handle it solo.
Because it was reckless, because she didn't really know what she was getting into, and because for gods' sake, he had qualms against it.
His mind would never rest if he knew he'd let Belle take on all the weight of finding his best friend, and all those tiny cracks would turn into one undeniably not so tiny crack, and for all he knew his mind might just split in half, and all the guilt and lies would just gush and spill out, leaving nothing but the remnants of tiny membranes and memories in the Selkie guild master's brain.
6.
Layle had always oddly been envious of the way Keiss was able to carry himself.
Filled with honor, and an almost smugness for his heritage (certainly, it was better than being a dumb old Clavat)—and yet, not afraid to do what he knew would be good, or even better for himself.
Now, here was the odd part—
Layle was also jealous of the pure femininity Keiss somehow maintained.
The way he swayed his hips, struck girlish poses, and his hair—Layle had been so sure that the Selkie had been a 'Miss' when they'd first met.
An incredulous look and two punches to the stomach later, he was found a whole new level of wrong.
Cid had been the one to introduce them. He'd said Keiss had 'unique' views, and ambitions as tall as the sky itself—
He'd also said that Keiss was far more accountable than Blaze, which was most definitely a plus.
Trying to convince the Selkie to become working partners was certainly something. Layle had pretty much earned all his hate with his 'what a beauty' comment, which hurt his ego quite a bit—after all, it seemed to work on more or less every other Selkie woman in existence.
Of course, Keiss wasn't a woman (it was those curves, he swore it).
So, he approached Keiss again, while the Selkie was observing the local smith's shop. Layle walked up, and thinking now, he remembers how different walking around felt without the jacket Cid had given him.
Regardless, he stuffed his large knuckled hands into his pockets and stood, attempting to look aloof beside the future colonel, his stomach still sore as he coughed slightly to get Keiss' attention.
Keiss gave him a sharp sideways glance that made him wish he was wearing body armor (later that day, he convinced Cid to craft him a heavy plate for his chest, which only made him feel a bit more secure), and then returned his focus to the Lilty smith as he pounded at a piece of metal, still a dull and glowing red.
Layle's ego didn't even register the concept of being ignored.
No, it made him think that maybe, no, most likely Keiss just hadn't recognized him. So, he side shuffled a couple half inches closer, and started with a simple one syllable word.
"Hi."
Keiss didn't look up as Layle heard the hiss of scorching steel hitting water; just said this:
"I'm not gay."
7.
Belle was nice.
But Keiss was benevolent.
Belle was pretty.
But Keiss was handsome.
And god damn, if Belle was annoying, but Keiss was simply aggravating.
8.
Althea knows about this kind of thing.
She has to.
"Lady Althea, I think I'm gay."
She stops sipping her canned tea, and Mia shifts in her lap and she lifts her petit hand from the ferret's back. The Lilty queen blinks and slowly turns to look at the Selkie beside her.
"Um, Keiss—"
"No, no it's okay, Just forget it," he says hastily as he returns to squeezing his disposable water bottle.
The sound of Fountain Park fills their ears, and Keiss watches as the liquid in the battle swells and recedes with the flexes of his fingers.
"I didn't know you were straight…" Althea finally murmurs, her vision laid about the cobblestone paved ground.
9.
"You look cold."
Keiss makes an irritated tsking noise, and tries his best to not pull out every last strand of his red hair.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Layle shrugs.
"Crystal bearer, I'm serious." He folds his arms over his chest and glares at the blond through his Maplewood eyes.
It had been complete luck that the guild master had found the Clavat here, at the Rivelgauge monastery, the priest having told the Selkie that there was a new soul there, one that wished to repent and be clean—
Only about as clean as a moldy refrigerator, he was sure.
Hell, the guy still didn't agree to wear the robes—Clavats really were too kind for their own good.
"Why don't you tell me what you're doing here; shouldn't you be doing high commander things? "
Keiss' brows knit together. "I'm not the high commander."
There's a mild expression of surprise coloring the blonde's face, and he turns his body in the mahogany bench, his eyes as misty as the fountain they're focused on. This place is icy cold, and lit like a cave—Keiss looks back at the doors leading to the confession rooms, contrastingly warm candle light filtering through the glazing and onto the stony church floor.
"Did you take Vaigali's place?" Layle finally asks, his voice low and quiet—he seems to be listening to the burble of the water.
"Someone had to."
The blond watches Keiss' face contort through his eyelashes, idly pulling at the rings on his fingers.
Keiss sneezes.
Layle starts to chuckle, but it dies in his throat—for whatever reason, he can't keep it fluttering there or even in his belly, even as the redhead shoves his fingers into his armpits and shakes his head.
"It's not quite as warm in here as it is on your air ship is it?"
"Belle took it, so I guess I wouldn't know." A smile starts to infect the Clavat's face, and the guild master scowls as he catches sight of it. "Man, shut up. This is your entirefault."
"I didn't say anything," he says with humor, closing his eyes and relaxing into the back of the bench and completely disregarding the second part. "So how did you get up here, then?"
The former colonel wipes his nose. "I got a Yuke to help me."
Layle doesn't bother to ask about how his first experience with teleporting was—the pout on his face tells all, and if anything, it just makes Layle say it again: "You look cold."
"I am," he says begrudgingly, slapping his barren knees.
"You should get a scarf or something," the blond replies blowing his breath into the fur trim of his coat. Keiss just makes a grumpy 'hm' noise, and shifts uncomfortably when Layle scoots a centimeter or two closer, leaving just an inch of polished timber between the two of them.
Layle leans his elbows onto his knees, and the redhead returns his stare by looking up at the painted ceiling of the altar. They continue on like this for a couple lengthy minutes, until Keiss' neck gets tired and he's forced to look down again; the Clavat is still resting his eyes on the guild master, and he can't help but feel a bit unsettled.
"Something wrong?" Layle is the one to break the silence.
The Selkie takes a breath. "No," he mutters, offering a wry smile. "It's just been a while."
Layle's fingers twitch slightly, and his blond, feathery hair moves with them. He looks away from Keiss' face and at the back of the bench, but only for a moment as he replies, his voice low—"Yeah."
When his vision lays itself over Keiss' face again, neither can find anything to say. The redhead tries to begin—"Listen, I"— and when he gets a look at Layle, sitting there, his ears wide open, the words just shrivel up in his mouth, and he heaves a sigh.
"I've been going to confession a lot." Layle leans back into the bench, his chainmail clinking against the wood.
"I never figured you as the religious type." The reply comes delayed, as Keiss is rather unsure of how to reply to such a simple statement.
"It helps get things off my chest."
The redhead shifts in the hard seat. "What kind of things?"
Layle looks at him through his peripheral, then shifts his vision forward again. "Nothing, really."
"Nothing, really?" The guild master's voice is filled with skepticism. "Really makes me think you must have some really awful kind of nothing."
"It's a nothing that should be pretty easy for you to figure out."
Keiss scowls at how cryptic the guy is sounding. "I ought to punch you."
Layle pulls up a smile. "How's about a kiss instead?"