Work Text:
He sees the way they look at him. The questions and accusation in their wary stares when they think he isn’t looking. Martin’s stare unnerves him the most whenever he reports in with the Admiral. His eyes are like a scalpel cutting chunks of flesh out and he isn’t sure if he’s being dissected or punished by those blue eyes that regard him so coolly. The admiral will occasionally allow for a stony faced, lingering stare on the exposed mark burned into his left hand but he never says anything about it. Likely because he knows he has no room to complain or judge when it’s Corvo going out into the city and getting his hands dirty.
Pendleton is too drunk most days to care and although their resident washed up lord tries to hide it there’s an uneasy, fearful and hateful look that glosses over his eyes whenever he drinks too much or too little.
Piero always looks as though he wants to bring it up and discuss a mutual acquaintance but after staring him in the eyes for a couple moments something changes his mind and they’ve never once mentions Him to each other.
As for the ladies of the Hounds Pits Pub, Lydia openly appears disgusted at the mark. Cecelia looks unsure and curious but Corvo has an itching suspicion that there’s something deeper going on in that head of hers whenever she sees the mark and smiles lightly. Callista is always a polite woman and although she’s wary and uneasy about the mark there’s no judgment in her eyes which is a relief compared to the rest of the Loyalists.
For some reason though it’s Samuel’s look that gets to him most. It should probably be Emily’s because he’s her guardian. She’s the Empress and it’s expected of him to be on hers and the kingdom’s side with the Abbey; hating the darkness and what lives within it. But that dear girl still holds much innocence about the world around her, especially regarding matters of the Dunwall religious wars. Her gaze is always openly curious, intrigued and slightly awed.
Samuel though, he’s an anchor in the storm of everyone’s clashing desires and greed. His is that of a fatherly demeanor and the disappointment in his eyes whenever he sees Corvo blink to the boat is as strong a hurt as if he were blood. As if his real father were looking at him with a crushed hope that his son knew something was wrong but did it anyway.
All of their stares burn his flesh as he walks the ground for the Hounds Pits and whenever he turns to catch them they either avert their own gaze or stare him head on with some form of judgment. He’s yet to decide which he hates more.
When he returns from the Boyle party it’s already dawn and the sky looks bruised with the rising sun.He thinks that there’s a slight chance that the Admiral is still up waiting for him. He doesn't want to see anybody, least of all Havelock at the moment.
Samuel chained his boat up and Corvo took his mask off, relishing the cool if rotten smelling breeze that came in contact with his warm face. He glanced over his shoulder and noted how the boatman looked as tired as he felt, rolling his neck and shoulders around with something akin to pained grunts. Corvo’s eyes slid back to the Pub building and somehow the feeling of not wanting to come in contact with its occupants intensified.
“Gonna see the Admiral now, Corvo?” Samuel asked him and the assassin tried not to think about explaining his actions to people who asked for his services yet still judged his actions.
“It’s too late…or early. And I’m tired.” He met the boatman’s gaze and forced a smile that felt wry, “If you see him before I do would you kindly tell him that I retired to my room?”
“Depends. Does it have to be kindly?” Corvo’s mouth twitched in amusement but there was too many emotions already fighting within him that humor wouldn’t register. “Sure, Corvo. You head on up to sleep. I think I’m going to help myself to some food from the kitchen before hitting the hay myself.”
He nodded his gratitude before turning on his heel with the burn of a stare between his shoulder blades. Turning from the back entrance, he blinked and climbed his way up to his room. There’s less possibility of him bumping into someone this way and although his magic reserves felt taxed out, the burn of the magic is like a shot of warm energy through his veins that leave a pleasant tingle flooding his body. Like the first drink of rum on a cold stormy day that spread warmth throughout his body or like the buzz of being just an inch too close to a Wall of Light and feeling the electrical energy penetrate his systems and set his teeth on edge.
His room was dark when he climbed through the window with the light from the sun barely hitting a foot of the floor into the room. The smell of mold and dust in the attic made him queasy. A glance told him that Cecelia hadn’t been up to make his bed and for some reason that filled him with a small comfort. Even living in the Tower with Jessamine he only had servants come in at the end of the month to do basic mopping and dusting. Call it paranoia or individuality but there was something too intrusive about strangers running their hands over his sleeping place and his work documents or any other sentimental artifacts in his room.
A sinking feeling in his stomach mixed with other negative emotions stirring up unpleasant thing brought him to look back out his window. His eyes trailed the multicolored pastel panels of the pathway up to Emily’s tower. There was an itch under his skin that demanded he go check on her, say goodnight or good morning or nothing at all but just make sure she was still well. He longed to see her but at the same time he hated himself for thinking it was okay to put his soiled hands on her head or press his sinner’s lips to her brow.
Besides, he reasoned with himself, Callista wasn’t awake already she would be soon and Corvo wasn’t prepared for anything but whatever nightmare awaited him in his sleep.
A hate for his surroundings bloomed in his chest as he closed the shutters on his window to block out the rising sun’s ever consuming, powerful rays. For good measure to keep the others out Corvo locked his door. It was a rotted, molding materiel that would take little force to bust down but hopefully everyone got the message and would leave him be for a couple hours before casting their weighted gazes upon him.
He stripped his long coat, the utility belt around his waist and made a sound of relief as his feet were freed of his custom black boots. All of the things he was sure would cause discomfort cleeping in fell to a heap on the floor before he laid himself out on the lumpy mattress. His hand slid under his pillow and sought out the comfort of the feel of a blade hidden there. It wasn’t as high tech as the one Piero made. Honestly, it was as standard and shoddy as it could get in comparison but knowing he was armed and prepared soothed some of his nerves. Too many betrayals. Too many scars.
A sigh escaped him.
There was a fight going on in his mind to avoid sleep for only nightmares awaited him full of blood and rot and drowning; and a fight to dive headlong into the abyss if it saved him the thoughts threatening to flood his mind about horrible masks, pistol duals and his name written in a guest’s ledger. Which nightmare was worse, reality or dream?
Exhaustion won out in the end and he fell without really meaning to.
A peaceful nothingness greeted him and when he opened his eyes he felt as though the aches and exhaustion simply slipped right off of him. Some part of him wished he could feel this way every time he awoke but he knew that he wasn’t awake. Not truly.
Corvo thought he should feel disappointed, perhaps. Looking upon the purple glow of the lantern on his nightstand though and seeing the haze around it left him feeling relieved. He thought of getting up to search out the Outsider and see what reason the deity had to bring him here when they had talked just after he sent an unconscious Esma drifting away on the boat of a madman.
Nor had he collected any runes or bone charms in offering to obtain more abilities or heighten those he already possessed. The man in the disturbing mask claiming to love the Lady Boyle had approached him before he decided to try his luck upstairs. And even though he could feel the heart pusling in his pocket he didn’t want to risk the unnecessary search.
The Outsider didn’t seem the type to call him to the Void unless one of their usual, cryptic, one sided conversations about Corvo’s actions was to occur. Those were few and far between but he had to admit to himself that lately the only place that brought him any semblance of peace was this world made of nothing and everything. Of eternity and the finite.
There was no ache in his bones or pounding in his head. Nothing oppressed him here not even the Outsider’s endless black eyes. So it was still laying on his lumpy mattress that he decides to stay and enjoy the reprieve given to him by the Void. He was too comfortable to leave let alone hunt down his deity benefactor. There would be time yet in a place where it didn’t exist for him to seek out the Outisder.
“Taking a nap in the Void, Corvo?” AN indifferent voice asked him from within the room and instinct had Corvo pulling out the dagger under his pillow in defense before resting it in his lap when his eyes landed on the god at the foot of his bed. The Outsider simply raised an eyebrow at his actions.
“You could say that.” Corvo replied as he slipped the blade back under his pillow and sat up properly in the bed, crossing his legs and eyeing the impeccable, unchanged form of the deity before him.
Silence followed for a couple moment though nothing quite so awkward, with the Outsider staring at him, arms crossed over his chest in his typical body position. Each of them appeared to be waiting for the other to break the silence though neither was eager to do so.
“I” “You” They tried to speak at the same time. Corvo blinked then laughed silently with an amused grin coming across his face because the deity was giving him a look of reproach and annoyance underneath that of apathy. Had such an odd thing ever happened to the whale god before? It seemed such a mad, hilarious thought. “Apologies, you first.”
“Hmph. I was merely going to state that you didn’t come to me even though I called you here. What was it you were about to say?”
Corvo gave a one shoulder shrug, letting his eyes fall to the chest of the Outsider’s leather jacket so that he didn’t have to drown in black eyes that could take all of him in and still not hate (or maybe that was too strong a word and emotion to be used by this god) what he sees even when everyone else does; especially himself. “I was going to say, I didn’t think you would begrudge me enjoying a few moments of peace in a place where time does not exist.”
Nothing changed on the deity’s face but the assassin felt like there was amusement at this. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. Time yet passes in your realm, however and it would be unwise to waste in the nothingness of the Void while your mission awaits you. The purpose that you possess is hardly one that waits.”
His heart clenched at the idea of having to return just yet. “Was there not something you wished to discuss? Is there a reason that you summoned me here?” He may often be a silent man but if conversation gave him the time he desire to stay here then he would endure whatever awkward probing things that the deity wished to bring up.
The god’s eyes narrowed but there was only mild interest behind his expression and gaze. “There was but I find the topic of my interest changing. Why is it that your heart yearns for the Void? Have you lost sight of your goal, Corvo? Hiram Burrows no longer has any allies and currently retreats to his fortress for he knows that death is coming for him. But is that still true? Has your resolve waned?”
“I….” He should have seen this coming. The Outsider always managed to dig up his flaws and show them to him as if ripping out his still beating heart from his chest and smiling in interestas to what his reaction would be. It is true though, his heart does yearn for the Void. The Void is the only place he feels at peace anymore. Everything else is a struggle except for looking into those black eyes. He can’t hide from those eyes, doesn’t want to because no matter what he did or said there was only ever intrigue gleaming in the abyss of the Outsider’s gaze. “It is not my resolve that has wanted but my spirit.”
The outsider’s expression shifts just the slightest with noticeable curiosity. “Oh? What is it you mean by that I wonder?”
The question doesn’t sound right. There is a choice in there. A Choice to choose whether he explained or not. Noticing this little fact brought appreciation and warmth spreading in his chest. “I sent a woman into a life of slavery tonight because I didn’t want her blood on my hands. I should know better than anyone that there are worse fates than death.” He pressed his hand to his face for a few silent moments, letting it obscure half his view before letting out a heavy sigh and dragging his hand through his unkempt brown hair. He met the deity’s unwavering gaze with just as steady of eyes.
“Campbell is dead by a glass of his own poison and Esma likely sits chained in the basement of a madman. Tell me who deserves their fate more for their part in destroying Dunwall? None of this is fair, it never was and yet I’m the one playing god with people’s lives…Excuse the term.”
He sees a twitch in the corner of the deity’s mouth. Corvo felt the floodgates drop and couldn’t stop words that had simmered too long within his mind. “My choices affect this city. I am no better than Burrows in my belief that I know what’s best for Dunwall. The only difference between me and him is that I will succeed in destroying him whether it involves blood or not. Emily will go to the thrown as is her birthright. But there will always be someone scheming, someone killing and lying, blaming and seeking power. The plague will continue to eat this city till there’s nothing left.”
He huffed with a rueful smile and shake of his head. Corvo looked down at the palms of his calloused, scarred hands and saw death in them. Tainted weapons that defined him. “If I do nothing else with my worthless life, I will see this through to the end. Burrows will fall, Emily will rise and I will continue to guard her with all that I have – however little that may be. And yet in the end it change nothing. So please, before you throw me back into the fray of a broken city allow me refuge here for a short while.”
There is a brief pause in conversation once Corvo’s words cease. He could have went on to explain how it was he believed nothing would change but he already knew the Outsider understood better than any mortal how redundant everything could be in the grand scheme of things.
A weight suddenly appeared on the space in front of him on the bed and cold hands like washcloths on fevered skin wrapped around his own. “You are truly beyond that of a normal mortal, my dear.” There is a hint of fondness to his tone that makes no sense. Or perhaps it is simply amusement. Either way his gaze snaps up to the deity sitting before him inspecting Corvo’s hands just as he had done moments before.
The Outsider turned his left hand over and appeared to enjoy seeing the black mark seared into his flesh. Corvo’s heart beat once hard against his rib cage and his breathing stopped altogether as his hand was lifted and soft cool lips pressed gently against the raised black skin. Color burst from the active mark and the tingle of power rushed his body, spreading, convulsing, burning and all around addicting in the pleasure that it brought. Like a whiskey shot of adrenaline.
As his hand was released, he fell forward slightly, hands going out against the mattress to support him as he panted from the surprised exertion and excitement of the experience. “What- what was that?” And why can’t all of his power be given the same way instead of that base searing that normal occurs?
“A boon. You now have the ability to return to the void whenever you wish. Time does not exist here, that is true and you may spend as long here as you deem appropriate.”
He looked up at the god before and wasn’t sure what the feelings in his chest were. Gratitude? Suspicion? Curiosity? Or an overwhelming desire to see if those soft lips cause just as electric a kiss on other parts of his body besides his hand. “I…Thanks you, that’s very kind of you.” He settles for uncomfortably, feeling unfulfilled in his expression.
“Oh, Corvo.” A smile full of mischief and just barely short of sinister snakes its way onto his pale face. The sudden and unexpected show of emotion is unnerving; he is both unnerved and taken in by it all, “Do not think I did it for free or even solely for you. There is a price to pay in exchange and I am curious to see what you do with this freedom in the Void.”
“Ah, I’ll be sure to collect more runes the next time I go into the city…” He begins to say but slows his speech with every inch that the Outsider closes between them. Their noses almost touch, a cool hand loosely rests on his jaw – barely touching him, almost as if it’s frozen before completing the action of fully resting there and he’s being looked at with black eyes under long lashes.
“I think I would prefer to claim this offering if it is all the same to you, Corvo.” And those lips close over his. He wants to tell him that it isn't the same, far from it but his words are lost in the kiss that makes him feel like he’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Air seems like a ridiculous concept with the deity’s lips moving against his own. In fact, he can’t recall if he ever started breathing again when the Outsider pulled away from him.
“There. That is payment enough, I think.” The god said with that same bird like tilt of his head. “Enjoy your time in the Void, my dear Corvo.”
In the next second he’s gone. Corvo’s mind is still reeling and his equilibrium has been thrown completely off as he stares at the empty room of the Void. His hand tingles along with his lips and he’s aware of the power in his bones that will allow him to leave this other dark realm whenever he pleases.
He could rest here and sleep some more but the thought is so unappealing now that it’s funny. He arises from the bed and dresses himself at his own leisurely pace (because now he has all the time in the world in a world without time). As his long coat settles over his shoulders, a darkly amused smile crosses Corvo’s face.
He has a god to find.