[ OPEN ] ; Network: Chainsawd; Video; Story Time;

[fiachdubh]

[ The video opens to Ronan, sitting in a high-backed chair. He makes a motion towards the camera, and the shot changes to an aerial view of what looks very much like a library, books to the rafters, vines and tree branches gently curling around shelf upon shelf. The light is dusty, but natural. Chainsawd swoops back down, settling once more in front of Ronan, filming him.

It's obvious he's not alone - there's a shoulder against his, and he's leaning against whoever is sitting next to him in what seems like obvious habit of sharing space. On his lap, Ronan has a large volume open, the pages yellowed and crinkly with age. He doesn't smile as he looks at the camera, but he looks sort of relaxed.

Without much introduction, Ronan looks down, and starts reading, his voice nuanced; he has the tone and rhythm of someone used to telling stories. ]

Now when Sarpedon saw his comrades, men who wore ungirdled tunics, being overcome by Patroclus, son of Menoetius, he rebuked the Lycians, saying, "Shame on you, where are you flying to? Show your mettle;
I will myself meet this man in fight and learn who it is that is so masterful; he has done us much hurt, and has stretched many a brave man upon the ground."

He sprang from his chariot as he spoke, and Patroclus, when he saw this, leaped on to the ground also. The two then rushed at one another with loud cries like eagle-beaked crook-taloned vultures that scream and tear at one another in some high mountain fastness.

The son of scheming Saturn looked down upon them in pity and said to Juno who was his wife and sister, "Alas, that it should be the lot of Sarpedon whom I love so dearly to perish by the hand of Patroclus. I am in two minds whether to catch him up out of the fight and set him down safe and sound in the fertile land of Lycia, or to let him now fall by the hand of the son of Menoetius."

[ He took his time, reading. It was a book he loved, after all - and he always wanted to give it the recognition it deserved. On screen, Adam's face was visible, now, as he leaned closer to read, too, his chin almost hooked on Ronan's shoulder. Sometimes, you could see him glance fondly at Ronan. ]

And Juno answered, "Most dread son of Saturn, what is this that you are saying? Would you snatch a mortal man, whose doom has long been fated, out of the jaws of death? Do as you will, but we shall not all of us be of your mind. I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, that if you send Sarpedon safely to his own home, some other of the gods will be also wanting to escort his son out of battle, for there are many sons of gods fighting round the city of Troy, and you will make every one jealous. If, however, you are fond of him and pity him, let him indeed fall by the hand of Patroclus, but as soon as the life is gone out of him, send Death and sweet Sleep to bear him off the field and take him to the broad lands of Lycia, where his brothers and his kinsmen will bury him with mound and pillar, in due honor to the dead."

The sire of gods and men assented, but he shed a rain of blood upon the earth in honor of his son whom Patroclus was about to kill on the rich plain of Troy far from his home.

[ Ronan finally looked up, an eyebrow raised at the camera. ]

Now, children, I know my dulcet tones have probably lulled you to sleep with this epic tale of heroism, but who can tell me - what's this book I'm reading from?

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[aberth]

[ The library is a strange place. Adam has had that thought about many of the buildings in the city, but this one takes it to another level. Because there's still something orderly about the dusty shelves filled with books, a familiarity that makes him want to bow his head in hushed acquiescence to the rules he knows. He half expects to be shushed by a spectre or to lose hours just trying to keep afloat in the sea of knowledge. This isn't Aglionby though, he has no classes to claw his way to the top. And there is wildness here too, trees and vines spilling everywhere as if they're trying to pull the pages back to where they came from. He thinks he likes it, the smell of paper and pine, the way it feels warm and real and earthy around them.

His shoulder is still pressed to Ronan's once he finishes reading, and Adam hums a little in thought, watching the way the other boy's eyelashes flutter as he breathes. ]

You know, you liking the Iliad makes total sense.

[ There's a lot about it that could be about him too. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ Ronan raises his eyes from the book on his lap, checking that the video is over before throwing a glance at Adam. ]

Does it, now.

[ He knows it does, at least to an extent. It was the kind of story Ronan had grown up on; exceptional heroes braving the world and its Gods for justice, whether it was selfish or not. Ronan likes to pretend he isn't, but he is, truly, a great romantic, looking for stories to sweep him off of his feet. ]

Why is that?

... tamw when you haven't read the iliad?

[aberth]

[ Adam only smiles, shifts back against his seat a little to let his gaze skim across the expanse of the library. One of the vines flutters slightly, leaves trembling to an invisible wind. ]

It's just the kind of thing that feels like you. Destinies, champions, Gods, love. I don't know.

[ He's trying very hard not to be an awkward and sappy bastard but really, he can't help himself sometimes. ]

It's fanciful, but still feels real.

[fiachdubh]

Fanciful? [ Ronan's tone is undoubtedly mocking, but in a slightly fond way. He grins, his eyes on Adam - they're very close, right now, pressed together in the high-backed chair that reminds Ronan of the one back at the Barns. ]

Are you saying an epic poem of 600 pages is fanciful? I can't believe you, Parrish.

[aberth]

[ His grin widens a little more. ]

Isn't it? [ Feigning innocence now he has Ronan's attention. ] I've only seen the passages we had to study. Maybe you should keep reading, convince me.

[ It's not at all because he like the way this has made Ronan's frame a little looser. That would be ridiculous. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ The fingers of one of Ronan's hands land on Adam's thigh, spread evenly against the dark material of his jeans. He turns back towards the book, his voice softer when he starts reading out loud again. ]

Sarpedon now took a second aim at Patroclus, and again missed him, the point of the spear passed over his left shoulder without hitting him. Patroclus then aimed in his turn, and the spear sped not from his hand in vain, for he hit Sarpedon just where the midriff surrounds the ever-beating heart. He fell like some oak or silver poplar or tall pine to which woodmen have laid their axes upon the mountains to make timber for ship-building- even so did he lie stretched at full length in front of his chariot and horses, moaning and clutching at the blood-stained dust. As when a lion springs with a bound upon a herd of cattle and fastens on a great black bull which dies bellowing in its clutches- even so did the leader of the Lycian warriors struggle in death as he fell by the hand of Patroclus. He called on his trusty comrade and said,

"Glaucus, my brother, hero among heroes, put forth all your strength, fight with might and main, now if ever quit yourself like a valiant soldier. First go about among the Lycian captains and bid them fight for Sarpedon; then yourself also do battle to save my armor from being taken. My name will haunt you henceforth and for ever if the Achaeans rob me of my armor now that I have fallen at their ships. Do your very utmost and call all my people together."

[ He stops, licking his lips. This is just for Adam - and so Ronan accepts the vulnerability, no trace of mockery or amusement in the look in his eyes. He's sincere, about his love for the book, and about attempting to share it with Adam. ]

[aberth]

[ There's something strange about Ronan Lynch.

That thought is not a surprising one, for there's always been something magical about him. But this is a different kind of power, not born of dreams or rage and Adam feels something go tight inside his chest at the vulnerability in the other boy's voice. He lets out a breath and very carefully covers Ronan's hand with his own, shoulders pressing more firmly together.

He thinks maybe he might be starting to understand the terrible things love can drive you to do. ]

Who read this one to you?

[ Because it's mired in memory, even Adam can tell that. He's pretty sure the ghost of Niall Lynch is on the pages even worlds away. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ Ronan looks up, at the tree that sprouted in the middle of the library. It takes him a moment before he answers, first turning his hand over so that he can fit his palm against Adam's, slot their fingers together. ]

Dad. He'd pick the most violent parts, too. And he's always been so good at telling stories, it was like we were right there.

[aberth]

[ He never expected to be a handholder.

But then again, he never expected Ronan to be one either. There's a comfort to it though, and Adam squeezes once and then turns his gaze to the books before him, giving his boyfriend time. ]

No wonder you like to fight.

[ It's soft edged, careful. He doesn't understand it, because he was raised with a different kind of violence. This is meant to be noble, heroic. ]

I wonder if you can check out books here. You could bring it with you. Read me some more.

[ There's no librarian, so. Who would stop them from taking it? ]

My grandmother used to read those Dahl books to me, when we used to visit. [ Before Adam grew up like a weed and his parents hated him. ] Not as elegant.

[fiachdubh]

[ Ronan never thought he'd be much of a hand holder, either. But in a moment like this, where they're opening up and allowing each other to dip in, look at each other's insides, it feels like a good anchor. Ronan doesn't want to lose himself. ]

There's no one around to stop us, is there?

[ They've come to the same conclusion. So, whatever. Ronan is taking the book with him if it kills him. ]

Elegant. [ Ronan lets out a derisive noise. ] There's nothing elegant about gigantic blood-frenzied battles. Anyway, what matters is what you got from it. If they made you grow.

[ He looks at Adam, the side of his head, and his breath catches for a second. Was there a time where he didn't think that Adam was the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen? ]

[aberth]

I guess not.

[ Just wait until he appoints himself caretaker of the library, Ronan. ]

Gansey would probably argue with you on that. [ Because the thing about blood-frenzied battles is that they're often idolised, taken down and described in pretty words and sweet phrases. It doesn't matter if it's this, something like Shakespeare, or Glendower's legend. Death and dying have been written about and revered from the beginning of time. ]

I think it mostly taught me to never visit chocolate factories.

[ He grins, quick and sharp, nudges Ronan with his shoulder. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ Jesus Christ. There aren't enough eyerolls in the world. ]

Gansey would argue with me on most things. It's one of his favorite past-times, after staring at the maggot, and putting himself in danger.

[ Which are attributes Adam also shares. Or maybe shared, when it comes to Blue. Jury's still out on that. ]

Who did you identify with the most? Charlie? Augustus? [ He raises an eyebrow at that, a crooked, teasing smile on his lips. 'A greedy boy' fits Adam, after all. ]

Or did you like the Oompa-Loompas better?

[aberth]

[ Adam snorts in response, but doesn't comment. What would be the point, when all of that is true? Besides, Ronan likes fighting just as much. With Gansey, with Adam. It's just a part of who they are. ]

Neither. It's not like golden tickets are real.

[ Even as a child, he hadn't believed in the sheer luck of a handout. You had to go out there and find it yourself. ]

I bet you'd be Wonka though. All that imagined stuff.

[fiachdubh]

[ Ronan huffs out a breath. ] Damn, Parrish.

[ He can't blame Adam for not having much to dream about, or for being disillusioned. For never having had many illusions at all. He can't understand it, but he hadn't grown up in a household like Adam's. He had grown up loved.

Despite himself, without thinking, he leans in, pressing a kiss to the side of Adam's head. ]

Wonka had some issues, though.

[aberth]

So does everybody.

[ But it's a point he can give Ronan. ]

I don't think you're the kind of person who thinks a chocolate factory is a good time anyway. You don't have that much of a sweet tooth. Dream farms though, they're totally it.

[ He presses his arm more firmly against Ronan's. ] Maybe I'll have more time while we're here to read the kind of books you like. [ Which sounds reasonable, but everyone knows he'll try to get a job asap. ] Widen my horizons.

[fiachdubh]

Maybe you can read my picks for you, and vice versa.

[ He turns to look at the side of Adam's voice, his voice softer now. They might be completely alone in the library, their daemons doing their own thing, but Ronan still feels like this is - kind of a moment. And he's never been good at not attempting to make moments as small and intimate as possible - they're easier to carry and keep. ]

Make it a book club between us.

[aberth]

A book club? ( It's definitely not something he thought Ronan would be into - no, scratch that. It's not something he would have thought before. Ronan likes softer things, Adam's just privy to them now. ) I'd like that.

( He smiles, the smaller of his smiles but no the less real for it. It's the kind of smile that means he's not sure how he got lucky, that he's surprised by the fact there's a love he has access to. )

Though no complaining that my picks are boring.