princekiller | (no subject)

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alt!dutch,
darrow 2

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Without a kingdom to return to, an army to command, or a plot to uncover, there was a great deal less to occupy Damen's time. He'd spent the majority of his life in training, either for battle or for ruling and, while being captured and sent to Vere had halted that as much as finding himself in this city, he'd still had some means of usefulness even in Vere.

Perhaps, in many ways, he'd been more useful there than ever before.

Here, however, was a different story entirely. In some ways, it was a relief. Peace was far preferable to war, after all.

But he could never quite shake the boredom.

Visiting the gym was essentially the highlight of his days. He'd mastered the machines after some time and had even joined a few... classes as they were called. It was the closest he'd found to continuing his training and Damen threw himself into the motions, pushed himself mentally and physically and left every day with that familiar thrum just under his skin.

Today was no different and Damen breathed in the brisk autumn air as he exited the building, hiking the bag holding his sweat-soiled clothing higher up on his shoulder as he made his way back to his dwelling. Nice as it was, perhaps Laurent would be amendable to an afternoon walk.

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She's seen him before. He stands out among the crowds, a tall, imposing figure that Dutch's eyes catches on immediately. She's seen him before and while she hadn't done anything at first, he'd remained at the back of her mind.

Now, she's following him. He is not the first person she's followed nor will he be the last. But, it's such an easy thing, blending into the crowds and keeping an eye on someone so tall and so focused elsewhere.

She lets her eyes roam over him, wonders just what that body can do and just how much pain it might feel if she were to twist a knife just so. Mmm. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

Dutch moves closer, taking up a spot right behind an older lady who was engrossed in a conversation with someone on the other end of the phone. She doesn't state but she does look at him much more often than any other stranger.

The journey to his dwelling wasn't very far at all, an half hour's walk at most, and Damen was now overly familiar with every landmark and shop front he passed along the way. He detoured briefly at the bookstore, perusing the titles in the bins outside the front door and purchasing two he thought Laurent might enjoy, both of them what appeared to be histories.

He tucked them both under his arm as he continued on, his gaze catching on a familiar figure eyeing him from not so very far away.

'Dutch,' he remarked cheerfully, pleased as ever by her presence. 'What brings you out here this afternoon?'

Dutch would have liked to have blended in just a little longer but she's been caught now so it's time to improvise, change the plan, act like she's the Dutch he seems to know. So, she moves away closer to him and smiles, having picked up on some of the other Dutch's mannerisms.

"It's just too nice to stay inside, isn't it?" she asks, voice sounding too sweet, too saccharine to her own ears. Gross. She tells herself that it will be worth it, that this will be worth it. "And I happened to see you and couldn't resist trying to catch up. How are you today? Good, I hope."

She seemed startled for a moment, as though not expecting Damen to approach or acknowledge her. But her expression shifted soon enough into one Damen was more accustomed to, a smile gracing her lips.

'Yes, very good,' he replied, nodding down to the books tucked under his arms, both of them a history of Spain, a topic that, as with many things here, Damen new very little. 'I've found some books I think Laurent might like. He wants to learn another language - Spanish or Chinese. Are you familiar with either?'

"Only because I've heard them in the time I've been here," Dutch answers. "Before that, I hadn't heard of them. If they were languages in my world, they weren't native to the Quad."

He mentions someone named Laurent and while Dutch doesn't know who that is, it's easy to fake it until she's able to pick up enough context clues to fill in the many blanks in her head right now when it comes to the other Dutch's life.

"How many languages does he know? It must be important for the job he held when he was back home."

It was an odd use of words, calling Laurent's role as a prince a job and she spoke of it carefully, as though she didn't fully understand. Curious, though Damen shrugged it off easily enough with a smile.

'Several. As many as I do, though more fluently,' he said. 'Spanish and Chinese don't exist in our world though; he only wants to start with them, I think. How many languages were there in your world? Only the one?'

"You're pretty much hearing the only one we used," Dutch says carefully. Unless the other version of Dutch has been to places she's never been, that's the truth. "There are different slangs but overall, this is all we have. The Nine likes it that way. Makes it easier for them to control things."

"It makes it easier to control everyone if they can send out one broadcast oppressing people instead of multiple ones in different languages," she explains. "Makes it so they don't have to hire anyone else too. Money is power and they have a lot of it. It's a sad situation."

It wasn't the first Dutch had spoken of the power imbalance of her home. From what she had explained before, there were parts that weren't so different from Damen's world, though the means of exploitation were somewhat different.

'Have you thought of learning another?' he asked, curious now. He pointed at his mouth as he quirked a smile. 'It still strikes me as odd that I know this one without ever having learned. My native tongue is Akielon and Laurent's is Veretian. I could try teaching you a bit of each sometime if you'd like.'

"That sounds fun." It sounded dreadfully boring but she wasn't about to tell him that, not when he was believing her story, her guise so easily. If this kept him from looking too deep and figuring out that she wasn't the Dutch he knew, all the better.

"I don't exactly know where I might use it but learning like that from you? A one on one education? I could really get behind that. I do get bored sometimes. There's so few interesting people around here to really enjoy."

'I suppose there would be no real use here,' Damen admitted with a somewhat pained laugh. He and Laurent were the only two who spoke it fluently and, barring the arrival of anyone else from their world, that would continue. Neither language was ever likely to be the common tongue or the one of commerce here, yet Damen didn't much like the thought of them dying out. There was so little hint of his world in this place as it was.

He nodded as she spoke, smiling fondly near the end as he said, 'Matthias is plenty interesting, at least. And Matthew, I imagine. I'm afraid I've not had the pleasure of meeting him myself, however, and Matthias has not told me much. What is he like? Does he speak a different language as well?'

Damen's question could have been a disaster if he hadn't added that he didn't know Matthew at all. That, she thinks, will make it easier to lie, to tell Damen things about this Matthew that she's not sure are true but he won't know are true either. She has to laugh for a second to think that the Dutch here is selfish, taking on two men instead of one.

"You know, he hasn't really told me," she says, thinking that a safe bet. "Everything's still fairly new with us. I just know that he's very sensitive. Understanding. But powerful."

Whoever this Matthew is, Dutch thinks she's doing him a favor by speaking so highly of him. She steps closer to Damen and winds an arm around his, smiling up at him. "Not thinking of stealing him for your own, do you?"

It seemed an odd thing for Dutch not to know considering their relationship, or what Damen took to be their relationship in the very least. But he could imagine it was a subject that simply had not come up and he nodded his understanding with a warm smile.

A warm smile that flickered a bit as she stepped in close to slide an arm through his. 'Stealing a man I've never met?' he asked with some bit of confusion. 'I would think he'd be happier with you and Matthias both to satisfy him and I doubt very much Laurent would be pleased at the introduction of a third.'

He made himself quiet then before he thought to use the word relationship. It seemed an odd one given their history and what they were swiftly becoming.

And it seemed very modern, a word that belonged in this world somehow.

"Oh, it was a joke," she assures him with a pat against the arm. "I don't really think you'd steal him, I was just kidding around with you. You wouldn't steal him just like I wouldn't steal your paramour."

Mostly because he wasn't the one she'd decided she wanted. Maybe if she'd seen him first and found that she wanted to have some fun, he would have but she'd seen Damen and he was just too delicious to pass up.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't ever think that of you," she coos, smiling slowly. "You're too good of a person, aren't you? Too good and too sweet. Really you are the total package."

Dutch patted at his arm and smiled sweetly, assuring him of the joke. It felt strange, Damen thought.

'The total package of what?' he asked, brow furrowed. He imagined Laurent walking by now to see Dutch hanging off his arm and, carefully, he pulled away, bags still hanging heavy from his fingers. There was no reason for Laurent to believe Damen felt for Dutch what he did for Laurent, but he was reluctant to cause any misunderstanding that could be avoided.

"Of person," Dutch drawls, not showing any sort of reaction to being gently moved away. It doesn't hurt because she feels absolutely nothing for this person. All she wants is the fun of the hunt, the thrill of the capture and eventually, the pleasure of the blood she'd spill.

"It's typically how you describe someone who has it all," she explains further. "Looks, intelligence, humor, manners, that sort of thing. Most people don't make it to being the total package but I think you might. Of course, I've never been witness to any good jokes of yours but I bet they're there."

Damen was in no way a joker, but he did like to think he had a sense of humor. He was certainly quicker to smile than Laurent, though that wasn't a difficult marker to achieve by any means.

But he still couldn't shake the notion that Dutch was acting oddly.

'Have imbibed of something?' he asked then, remembering how certain herbs or drinks had effected his men when partaken. 'You don't seem yourself today.'

"Well, that's not very nice," Dutch says, frowning at him, making a show of slumping her shoulders and stepping away. "Do you think you know me that well that you know this isn't me?"

Wouldn't Damen be surprised to find that he was right all along? Right now, Dutch's aim to make him feel bad, see if there's some sort of soft underbelly behind all the muscle mass.

"I haven't done anything terrible to you and here you are accusing me of being drunk," she says with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry I've been bothering you."

Her expression shifted then, as did her entire demeanor, lips curving into a frown as a cloud of hurt swept over her face. It was true Damen did not know Dutch as well as he knew some. But of the people he'd met in this strange city, Dutch he knew better than most.

And, in his memory, she'd never acted quite like this.

'I don't mean it as insult,' Damen said with some unease as he shifted his bags so he could lightly rest his hand on her arm. 'And you haven't been a bother. I'm not accustomed to you being quite so complimentary is all. Is it that you've only been holding back?'

"It's been a good day," Dutch says, shrugging. "I can't be happy to see a friend? It's not something I was able to really have back home. Job made it too difficult and everyone just left me anyway."

Dutch sighs, continuing to play the sympathy card since it seemed to be working somewhat. She shakes her head and glances up at him.

"It's all right, though. I'll leave you alone," she tells him, nodding. "Really, I don't mean to be bother. You go on about your way and I'll let you get on with it."

Her tone didn't change, eyes still downcast in a way Damen was sure he'd never seen in her before. He felt off balance then, unsure of what he had said and done to make her react in such a self-deprecating manner.

'As I said, you're not a bother,' he insisted, still watching her carefully though he moved no closer now. 'Whatever I've done, I'm sorry for it. But I hope we'll speak again soon.'

"We'll see."

Dutch turns and walks away, shoulders still slumped and making sure she emanates a feeling of sadness and upset. She's not expecting him to run after her and make things right but as long as he knows she's hurt, then it will make it easier to get at him later.

She doesn't look back either, walking until she turns a corner and lets a slow, malicious smile cross her face. Sometimes, people are just so easy. This one in particular, while suspicious, was like putty when it came to an emotional woman.

She'd have fun with this one.

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