Chapter Text
For Durge to say they were slightly busier on this day than usual would be an understatement. The itinerary at the beginning of the day had been daunting, filled with various obligations. Organizing mass, tallying the bodies brought in by the temple's various acolytes for the weekly competition - which was really just a thinly veiled attempt at getting people more motivated to kill - and attending mind-numbing meetings with Gortash.
The last part had been as simple and routine as it was boring. Wait patiently behind a curtain in anticipation for negotiations turning sour, and make a move at the first sign of any aggression. Though rarely it had taken up so much of their day in the past. Durge's legs were stiff from remaining so still for so long, their hand twitching towards the dagger waiting patiently in its sheath throughout the day, and not once it had to be used. A most disappointing day.
Though, as afternoon turned to evening, Durge's day took a significant improvement upon invading the study of their partner in both crime and not-quite crime, and ally above all.
Gortash sat hunched over at his desk, either mulling over a prototype for a new trap of some sort or going over his plans to spot any unforeseen flaw. "Gortash," came the Bhaalian's voice in a simple greeting. The heavy mahogany door shut behind them with a deep thud as they strode over to his desk, noting how the tyrant did not look up to greet their gaze
"When did you get here? Hello again," Gortash replied plainly, eyes glued to the pieces of parchment before him, the last light of the sun's rays filtering in through the windows leaving the room encased in a soft and warm glow - to the point of causing the dark red rug leading up to his workspace to seem a bit more orange than it was. And it might've just been a trick of the senses, but Durge swore the room smelled more pleasant too. Like something rich and dark, the scent of citrus mixed in somewhere. "Is there anything I can do for you, or is your visit not business related?"
Books and used quills which had been snapped in half were joined by empty ink pots as they sat lifelessly upon the expanse of the desk, a few scrolls which were ready to be sent off bundled beside a paperweight near the edge. Gortash's gauntlet clenched a fresh feather, Durge observed that his grip was excessive. "I do not come here under the pretense of business, but I also do not come for the purpose of fun. I am simply here. But perhaps there is something I can do for you, given the way you're threatening to snap your quill." With a huff that toed the line between exasperated and amused, he took his spot standing just behind Gortash.
"Little lordling, what are you working away at now? Surely, you have revised whatever this is enough times already? A self-proclaimed genius such as yourself would have achieved perfection by now." They took on a mocking tone, aiming to provoke the reaction they already knew would follow from the seemingly frustrated and irritated tyrant.
And as expected, Gortash's writing hand tensed, the quill threatening to crumble under the metal of the gauntlet. "And surely you would have better things to occupy yourself with than bothering me with that of which is unnecessary." His head finally turned to look at Durge only to send them a glare. His free hand, rough and calloused, came up to rub his temples to stave away the headache he could feel forming - something ultimately fruitless.
Taking a deep breath and releasing it in the form of a heavy sigh, he decided it wouldn't hurt to divulge his new pet project. "This is a mock-up for a new type of Steel Watcher. This design is primarily focused on the optimization of their agility, and if my theory proves to be correct, can effectively silence the majority of their movements. Treating infernal iron with a special acid before it heads into the forge will allow it to move more efficiently against itself. An improvement of this magnitude would make the act of espionage no longer a dream for the Steel Watch, and without the variability and unpredictability of free will, the possibility of failure by betrayal would be eliminated. It would be perfect, if something didn't seem wrong with the schematics that is. Though I am unable to figure out what specifically is faulty." Gortash ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he finished his rant, exacerbating how unkempt it was. With a sly, self-satisfied smirk, he added; "So unless you have suddenly become quite familiar with how the machinery of a Steel Watcher works, I suggest you hold your tongue."
In truth, they had only been half-listening to Gortash, losing interest the moment they heard "Steel Watch". Of course, their very existence was a feat in engineering and pushed the limit of what was possible when merging different technologies. And it was something they couldn't help but be begrudgingly proud of Gortash for - but the more mundane mechanisms bored them to no end in comparison to their other, far more interesting parts. Durge's hands settled onto Gortash's shoulders, resting for but a moment before their firm touch began to knead the muscles below his coat without much conscious thought.
"Hmmm." They peered over his shoulder. And as expected, his scribbling made little sense. Little scratches that appeared like insane ramblings and abstract shapes dotted the vast piece of parchment, and Durge questioned for but a moment if they meant anything meaningful at all. "Well do forgive me for insinuating your mind was anything less than brilliant."
"Perhaps a break will provide new perspective. You are also ruining your back sitting like that, it's unbecoming of an Archduke-to-be." Durge pulled Gortash's tense shoulders up, forcefully correcting his posture and internally gloating at the way the Banite grunted in discomfort. "A break? Right when I am about to make a breakthrough?" With a sigh, he cast the quill he was gripping away. His body relaxed under Durge's unrelenting hands and he sighed in satisfaction. "A refreshment for the mind only leaves one feeling more frustrated than they did before. I will stop momentarily, but only because I know that for as long as you are here nothing of value will be realized."
Durge laughed, leaning down to rest their chin atop Gortash's head; they reasoned it was just to get under his skin a little more. "Ah yes, because my presence has never provided any valuable insight or inspiration for you in the past whatsoever." A hand left Gortash's shoulder to instead fidget with his excessively sized collar, tracing the golden embroidery. Silence fell between them, with Gortash reluctantly not-quite-relaxing. The Bhaalian always tended to keep him on his toes, although it's not like he'd have it any other way. Durge radiated a type of unease that could've just been genetic, though Gortash had come to appreciate the odd constant in its own way.
In the silence, Gortash's thoughts wandered beyond his little project, beyond their plans or endless scheming. In relation to the past, of course he thought back on how far he's come. How far he will go and his deserved successes. Gortash couldn't help but allow himself to briefly reminisce about the past. Specifically about their first meeting, the rest was just chaff. "Durge," Gortash tentatively began, taking on a slightly less tense tone with simple curiosity fueling him. "You remember our first meeting, yes?"
The hand that still kneaded Gortash's shoulder stilled briefly as they considered the question, before resuming its ministrations. "How you so boldly sauntered into Father's temple after I burned your first few letters of correspondence? How could I forget." Gortash shook his head at their re-counting, turning just slightly to get a better look at Durge. "You know that's not how it went down. But no, not that instance. When we were younger."
It came back to Durge upon clarification, and they nodded, standing back upright as they dusted off the memories. "I remember that too. Why do you ask?" Durge pinched Gortash's neck in an attempt to be playful, but perhaps their definition of playful differed, as it garnered them a quiet hiss in discomfort. They looked to the side, the many full bookshelves of Gortash's study catching their eye in the fading light, now painting unexpectedly serene picture out of the room.
How awful.
"Hm. Ultimately it's unimportant, but I was just curious as to whether it was lost to time or not." Gortash rolled his shoulders and stretched languidly within the overly padded chair. "Indulge me in a bit of reminiscing, would you? It'll pass the time if nothing else." Gortash bat Durge's hands away as he rose from his seat and taking one of their cold hands in his own. A way to exert his control and get them to follow, he reasoned to himself. And as he began to walk, it was clear he was only giving Durge the illusion of choice. "And a walk, too. Come along."
Against impulse and instinct, Durge obeyed, following after him with little more than a scoff, reasoning that if there was an attempt made on his life - not made by themselves of course - then they might as well be there to ensure it failed. Gortash's final breath belonged only to Durge, both their Gods be damned.
....