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bakerstreet2017-03-21 09:29 am
picturethat) wrote in bakerstreet2017-03-21 09:29 am
Entry tags:
Find my home with you
The ＴＯＯＫ ＹＯＵ ＩＮ Shipping Meme
They were on your front door, in your yard, or on the street, confused and clearly in no position to fend for themselves; in a worst case scenario, they were bruised and battered, possibly close to death. Bleeding heart or not, you can't just be so cruel as to let them suffer. They need a place to stay, and you'll open your home to them...long enough to get back on their feet, anyway.
Speaking of feet, the shoe could be on the other one. You're worse for the wear - in a new place, possibly injured, certainly not in the best state of mind. You could not even remember how you got here or who you are to get here, for that matter. You may not want to remember. Whether willing or not so willing, you're in no position to turn down help, especially if said helper won't take no for an answer. No matter how dedicated you are to looking after yourself, there's only so much you can do in your position.
The two of you are staying together, at any rate. Only for a while, the plan is. But after said while, even though strength and confidence is returning to the injured, there's something a little different between you two. It could be the close quarters, the kindness shown, or a number of things, but quietly, softly, feelings have grown. Could more confusion and hurt spring from this? What about when it's time to go? Can the temporary resident leave as easily as they intended? You're so close now, perhaps a little while longer can't do any harm...
...until whatever it was that put them in such a perilous position in the first place comes back, and there could be "justice" for anyone who's dared to help.
ＲＵＬＥＳ
- Comment with your character and preferences. Say if you'd rather play the taken in or the person taking them in.
- Reply to others.
ＰＲＯＭＰＴＳ
- ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?
- ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.
- ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any
- ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.
- ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.
- ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.
- sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —
- ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.
- sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.
- sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.
- ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.
- ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.
- ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?
- ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.
- ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.
- ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is
- ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?
- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.
- ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.
- ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.
- ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.
- ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.
- ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.
- ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.
- ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.
- ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.
- ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
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Rationality seems like an impossibility right now, but he forces himself to reach for it, pushing down all of the things that are threatening to dismantle his balance. He has four days. It's enough time to come up with a plan, to pull something together that will ensure the safety of Vrenille and the others in the house. Not just that, but everyone in this town. He has to be restrained somewhere with no hope of breaking free, because if he does, it's likely that several will die before the moon releases its hold and the night ends. And he can't live with any more blood on his already stained hands.
He isn't angry at Vrenille, not really in a way that makes sense, though he's not sure how well he's conveying this fact; he's more panicked than anything else, and their initial meeting makes much more sense now. Six weeks of wandering through an unfamiliar world. No wonder he'd been so desperate that night. Jericho feels desperate now and it hasn't even been a full day, and on top of that, he's not even alone. He releases his grip on the chair once his shoulder protests the pressure, and he's vaguely aware of the stares he's getting from the two sylvari who have no idea what he really is, and he feels an intense need for space. Without a word he retreats from the kitchen, finding his way to the front, past the floor he'd bled all over, and makes his way outside, where he takes a deep breath, and then another, and lifts his eyes despairingly to the unfamiliar streets around him. His shoulder throbs again. He presses his palm lightly to his bandages, trying to think, but his mind is scattered right now. He can't disappear for six weeks. Even one is pushing it, but he fears there's nothing he can really do, and when he does return, his explanation will be flimsy at best, and he won't have a choice but to face whatever consequences given to him. ]
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There are vendors here and there with stands set up on the cobbles around them--apple sellers and fishmongers and the sound of gulls on the morning harbor air. It's not crowded, this being merely the site of a few small neighborhood stands, but there are still doubtless going to be things Jericho has never seen before (like that asuran Lionguard soldier making his rounds in the slow waddling gait characteristic of the imp-like race).
None of that seems to matter right now though, and Vrenille doesn't actually give a damn if they do draw a few curious looks from people who live nearby.]
Jericho! [He skids around to a stop in front of him, raises a hand as if to touch his arm and then thinks better of it, stopping a few inches away.] Jericho, I'm sorry. I know this seems bad, but I swear to you by the Six that we'll make it okay. The people I live with, they're good at what they do. They've got resources and connections--whatever you need.
[But he knows how this sounds--empty promises for something he knows he doesn't fully understand; asking Jericho to trust a bunch of complete strangers with his safety, his well-being, maybe even his life; and all on what? Vrenille's word? He's not foolish enough to think that anyone is going to want to hang very much on that, especially not anyone who met him...how Jericho did.]
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Okay. I believe you. [ Getting home is no longer at the forefront of his mind, instead plagued with gruesome thoughts of the full moon. He looks at Vrenille, his expression troubled and weary, and he knows he needs to talk about what's coming, but he's never made it a habit to discuss the gory details of his life, and he doesn't even know where to begin. He takes a breath and sits on the steps, knuckling his eyes. ] I can't stay here with you. It's too dangerous. I don't have control of myself on the full moon and I wouldn't want to hurt you or Kyinnlen or the giant. [ The missing name is intentional. ] I won't have that kind of blood on my hands.
[ He turns to look at him, and for a moment he just looks stressed, like he could use several more hours of rest and another cup of tea. Not angry. There's a small part of him that wants to look to Vrenille for the answer here, but he barely knows what the question is, and on top of that, seeking comfort from another person is a nearly forgotten concept. Instead he looks away, flexing his fingers gently and feeling the pull in his shoulder. ] How did you end up finding your way back?
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He takes a seat on the stoop at Jericho’s side and tries to manage a clear route through what’s inevitably going to be a big labyrinthine mess.] Look, I’ll tell you, but it’s probably not gonna make much sense right now, and we’ve gotta focus on one thing at a time:
I had to figure out how to open a portal to the Mists. I know that makes it sound like, now I’ve done it once, I should just be able to do again, but—
See, the Mists are this sort of…space between realms, between worlds. In this world they’re something that everyone knows about, y’know at least the concept. But as far as I could tell, no one in your world knows about them at all. From here in Tyria there are gates, getting between here and the Mists is easy. Getting between your world and the Mists was the hard part.
To get you home, I think we’re going to have to figure out how to do it in reverse: go into the Mists and open a portal out for you. But it’s got to be the right portal to the right place. [And this is where they’re going to need help—advice from people who know more than he does. He’s sure it’s possible, but it will take time. And they’ve got a more immediate problem to deal with.
Still, he lets all this settle for a moment before switching tracks, trying not to press too hard when he can see that Jericho is already (still) worn pretty thin.] So, what do you usually do on the full moon? [Because while he’s not going to argue the toss about Jericho staying here like in the house, he obviously has to be somewhere. The man must have some method he usually relies on if this happens to him every month.]
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The other issue... he unfortunately has far too much experience with, and it's never gotten any easier as the years have passed. ] The Factory locks me up once a month. The chains have to be strong enough to hold and it has to be somewhere I can't escape from. If for whatever reason I can't get back in time, I try and go far enough into the woods that I can't pick up anyone's scent, but that's risky. There's a chance I'd find my way to a town.
It's different with the moon. If I shifted now, I'd be able to control it. But on the full moon, it just happens and I lose all autonomy over my body. I'm not myself. [ He knows that's not true. The wolf is a part of himself, something he's learned to coexist with, but just barely. He never had any other wolves to teach him to curb his savagery, only a human determined to make him strong to be an asset to his agenda. ] The connection between beast and human is less stable because I'm not a pureblood. It takes a toll on my body, and... it's better if you're not around to see it. I start feeling the effects almost twelve hours before.
I just need a secure place. A cave, or dungeon -- something. Something away from other people. Somewhere that I can't break free. And I need you far enough that you don't have to see it, but close enough that you can put me down if I do escape. If you don't have a gun, you can borrow mine. [ If he can find it. Otherwise, he'll track one down somehow. ]
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Vrenille thinks it over in case some suitable spot just happens to jump to mind. (It doesn't.)] Secure is no problem. I think there's plenty of options there.
Far away...might be a little trickier. I mean we can get far away from humans, sure, but you get far from the humans and you get near to the hylek, you get far from the hylek you get near the skritt, get away from the skritt and you probably wind up near some tengu or something.
You're saying you'd attack anything you could get your hands on--whether it's human or not? [The specifics here matter. Given what Jericho has already said about not wanting to hurt him or Kyinnlen or Bertolt (or, when push comes to shove, Sesyria, he's sure; paradoxically, there's something almost endearing about the omission), it seems a fair bet that the list of things he'd attack at least includes humans, sylvari, and norn. And though Vrenille does have a gun, he really doesn't want to have to do what Jericho is asking of him in the case of his escape. He also, frankly, can't imagine needing to--he just can't truly imagine the severity and totality of the change that Jericho is describing.
At this point, the only thing he can do is take him on faith, trust his word that it's as bad as he says, and trust that no one else knows what he needs better than he does himself. Until he's witnessed the cycle, Vrenille is really flying blind, and that alone is a somewhat daunting thought. It makes this whole experience kind of like a mutual trust fall for the both of them.]
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He's lacking a lot of choices lately, and none of it is really anyone's fault, but it's frustrating all the same. He's unused to showing this much weakness to another person, not when he normally has things under some semblance of control, or at least an illusion of it, enough so that he isn't questioned or bothered. Here, he's about to undergo something intensely personal, something he fights to keep others from witnessing, and he doesn't have the slightest clue when things will return to normal again.
All it takes is one glance to remember that Vrenille went through the very same thing, and without as much help as he has at his fingertips, and he tells himself to calm. This much is already out in the open -- it won't kill him to accept some very necessary help just this once. And if anyone has to be a part of this, at least it's someone with some sense. ] How good of a shot are you? [ What he really wants to know is if he has to worry about accidentally being shot in the head or the heart. ]
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What I can tell you is that if I need to drop you, I'll drop you, but you'd be best off letting me do it with magic. [Anyway, he agrees that finding a place Jericho can't break free of is the priority. If they do that job right, then the security of knowing there's someone nearby who can safely incapacitate him is just there for the man's peace of mind.
But that's only the tip of the iceberg, isn't it. In a way he can't quite verbalize, Vrenille can sense just how personally vulnerable this whole experience must feel. Jericho barely knows him and he knows the others not at all. In his marrow Vrenille is absolutely confident that the group of them can see him through this safely, but it's the sort of experience that is going to draw them abruptly closer together, and he knows first had just how risky and uncomfortable that can feel, especially for anyone who's used to dealing with things on their own.]
Look, Kyinnlen and Sesyria could be a lot of help on this if you're okay with bringing them in. They've got contacts and a lot of access I don't have, and they'll know places better than I will. I mean, I know Sesyria seems a little...standoffish [understatement] but he is trustworthy. We follow him for a reason.
[It's a big ask, but if Jericho says no it's going to make the whole task before them a lot more difficult.]
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He almost immediately balks at the request of letting Vrenille's friends help. One is bad enough, and he hardly knows the others, certainly not enough to want to expose himself in such a way. But as he thinks of the predicament he's in, is there much choice to be had? He doesn't want to put this all on Vrenille, but he doesn't want to trust the others, either, especially not Sesyria who seems to hold nothing but judgment and contempt toward him. He has an unlimited supply of that back home; he doesn't need it from a stranger who looks like a plant he'd trample on in the woods. ]
I can't exactly say no, can I? [ He holds Vrenille in an uncomfortable stare, and maybe it's because his mind wants to push the stress of this situation out that his gaze ends up lingering upon his lips. He shouldn't have kissed him, especially not in such a spiteful way, and maybe he wouldn't have if he'd known he could be spending several more weeks in his company. The problem of Vrenille getting too close seems small to the way he could end up with his jaws at his throat in just a few short days, and the image sets off his frustration over the entire thing all over again.
He should apologize, but that has never come easy, the way he bites into his bottom lip doesn't make any words come. He feels just as off-balance as the night before when he'd dragged him in, the break in his routine and the uncertainty of what's to come throwing him off and leaving him feeling vulnerable and overly defensive. He softens his voice when he speaks next, his eyes drifting toward the square. ] Maybe I should find somewhere else to stay. I'm sure there are inns available. [ Because he's not sure he wants to talk to anyone in that house about what's to come, and beyond that he's not sure he should be welcomed back into Vrenille's bed. It's more of a haze because of his fevered state last night, but he does remember the warmth of the body next to his, not exactly touching but close enough for the fleeting brush of skin during sleep. It's dangerous, and he knows the days approaching the moon will only worsen the things he normally holds in complete control. ]
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[He looks down at his hands. It's not a very comfortable thing to admit that, but how unfair would it be for him to disguise it, especially when he's asking Jericho to be so completely forthright with him. He can't very well go posturing or misleading him with some phony bravado, even if the admission does make him feel terribly small.] I'd put my life in their hands. I wouldn't put it in mine.
[There's an irony to that, given how the sylvari literally did put their lives in his hands when they were all out in the jungle, but though he's been told as much, when push comes to shove Vrenille still always doubts how vital he really was: he was a safety net, but not one they really had to use. And maybe now the truth is that he's afraid that he can't do what Jericho needs, not on his own, not without help.
When he looks up again, it's to see Jericho looking him in that strange, almost unnerving way, and he wonders if he's done something wrong (again). It would be so much easier if the man was still just a client; Vrenille is always pure confidence with clients. This--the way something inside of him twists when Jericho talks about finding an inn, all the protests that spring to his lips, the way he just purely doesn't want him to go--is largely foreign terrain for him. He has to force himself to give the pragmatic answer alone.] There's spare rooms here if you don't want to stay with me. We've got more important things to do than spend time finding you a room at an inn. [It's not what he really wants to say, but it is true. This house is more practical, more secure, and just plain safer for everyone involved. And if Jericho wants more space between them, Vrenille reminds himself that he'll just have to accept that, his own feelings aside.]
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I'm putting it in yours anyway. [ He has to, and he needs Vrenille to know that he trusts him. ] I could leave and do this on my own. [ Perhaps with disastrous results. ] But I don't want to. I want your help. What I don't want is to hear this bullshit about how you're not enough. You're all I have, and I need you to be enough. And I think you are. You should, too.
[ In immediate retrospect, he could have been kinder about it, but any expressions of doubt have always been met with something hard across the face or words much harsher than this. There was never room for comfort, and as much as he might want to give it, he doesn't even know where he's supposed to begin. It's bad enough that it startles him when Vrenille suggests a spare room, despite this coming about by his own request. What's wrong with him? ] Okay. I'll stay. [ It's the practical choice, and yet it feels like a mistake, and he's exhausted of second-guessing this. He's acting like he doesn't know any better, like he can't control how he feels when they're close together, and that's simply not true. He could kiss him right now the same way he could sever this so that they never speak again. But he only wants to do one of those things.
He tells himself it's simply carnal, that he's deprived himself of touch for too long and that this is merely a manifestation of loneliness. It means nothing, and it is nothing, and it will be left at that. Vrenille is intelligent and a talented mesmer, a practical ally to have. There's no reason to push him away when he could have use of his skills. Jericho stands, his shoulder stiff and aching again. ] You can tell your friends. I need some sleep. [ The idea of being inundated with questions right now doesn't appeal to him -- Vrenille already knows enough to explain his part. ] Then I'll do whatever you need me to do while I'm still myself.
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Still sitting, he looks up at Jericho when he stands. Jericho, he thinks, will be a good person to work with too. Even if the whole experience they're about to go through is going to thoroughly suck from top to bottom and the man is going to completely lose control of himself and turn into some kind of murderous beast, Vrenille still thinks that Jericho will be a good person to work with.
The jungle taught him this: if you're going to go through hell with people who might lose control of themselves and turn on you and try to kill you, you'd better damn well trust and love them going in, because you're going to need that love to get you through. Framed that way, it makes the growing affection he feels for the man pretty much the farthest thing from a problem it can be, and the relief he feels when Jericho agrees, both to staying and to letting him consult the others, is like a buoy of new confidence.
He's just opening his mouth to speak when he's interrupted by a mechanical-sounding voice approaching from the side of the square.]
Pardon-me, but-you-are-in-this-unit's-way.
[There, just next to them and apparently wanting to go up the stairs and into the house, a strange little robot-like golem floats in the air. It's got an oval-shaped stone body banded with strips of metal and one glowing blue disk, like a single sensory eye. Its mechanical arms (of which it has a few) have a variety cleaning attachments on their ends, including a broom, a mop, and a feather duster. It also, on a hanger-like attachment rising out of its back, is carrying Jericho's jacket, now dutifully cleansed of blood. It is, as promised, the returning domest-o-matic.
Vrenille gives it a mildly affronted look.] Oi, don't be rude. We were having a moment here. You can wait.
Negative. Emergency-laundry-protocol-requires-return-of-garments-in-under-60-minutes. Time-expiring-in-20-seconds.
It's his jacket! [Vrenille waves a finger in Jericho's direction, muttering under his breath.] You daft golem.
[The golem whirs, extending its hanger arm towards Jericho.] Completion-subfile-accessed. Updating-optimization-speed-data-file. Entry-note: time-requirements-met-despite-hypersaturation-of-biological-fluids-due-to-nongolem-error. Please-take-better-care-of-your-outerwear-in-future. Would-you-like-to-hear-some-health-and-hygiene-tips?
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What? No. [ He doesn't need tips from a robot -- what he needs is for people to stop trying to hunt him down. ] Thanks. [ Is he supposed to thank it? It seems almost sentient, though realistically he knows it has to be a very complex program. Or perhaps not, since everything here is different from what he's used to. ] I need to borrow some more of your clothes. [ This is directed to Vrenille; he's ignoring the domest-o-matic now. ] I'll replace your alcohol, too. [ Because he's fairly certain he'll want to hit the bottle pretty hard after everything he's learned today, and it sort of makes him sick that he has to rely so much on another person, but Vrenille has proved himself to be reliable.
He turns toward the house again. ] Are you coming?
Sorry for the slow--been a hectic few weeks.
For Vrenille's part, he pushes himself back to his feet, reassured in some measure by the momentary win.] Yeah. [He smiles. At some point, maybe Jericho will realize that he really doesn't need to worry about these little things like clothes and booze, that when push comes to shove, Vrenille isn't fussed and it will all just work out. Best to let him just see that in time than try to keep telling him it though.
Anyway, one thing that working with the people in this house--this guild--has taught Vrenille, it's to differentiate big issue from small ones and not to get distracted by the latter when the former is looming large. So the truth of Jericho's earlier remark about not wanting to hear this bullshit from Vrenille's waffling confidence is that it was actually quite effective: just the sort of good swift verbal kick in the pants that's got him thinking again, planning how to make everything work, and the shift, though subtle, is clearly there in his manner as they head back inside.
The route back through the house does, inevitably, take them through the kitchen again, but Vrenille forestalls any remark from either of the sylvari with a look and a quick subtle hand gesture. Right now, he wants to give Jericho his space to sleep and recover, then consult with the others while he does. It all feels sensible and straightforward, something clear that he can act on...
Or at least it does right up until they're standing in the upstairs hallway again and Vrenille realizes that he doesn't actually know, when Jericho said he'd stay, whether he meant that he does want his own room and his own solitary space. He hesitates slightly, not wanting to just bring the man back to his room if he's got something else in mind, but also not wanting to imply that he'd rather keep more distance between them. It's shortsighted and poorly timed, maybe, but Vrenille doesn't want more distance between them.
He finds himself swallowing hard as he looks at Jericho, and there's this unbidden flash in his mind about how this moment could go if everything was different, if there wasn't still a bullet wound in Jericho's shoulder and a looming crisis on the horizon, how it could be all hands in hair and rough kisses and the tugging off of clothes like the storm between them can't wait to get behind closed doors before breaking. He tries to stop himself before he pictures his fingers twisting the white cotton sheets, his forehead pressed to the pillow as Jericho drives into him, but still his chest feels tight. He tries to keep it out of his voice when he speaks.]
Is, um-- Is my room still okay?
i'm definitely slower lmao - also we should start a new thread!
[ And he doesn't. A bed is a bed, and it isn't as if Vrenille's going to crawl in beside him this time. Last night his sleep had been feverish at best, not the restful kind he needs to get back on his feet, and after dropping his jacket at the foot of the bed he sits down, tucking a stray lock of hair behind one ear as he looks at him. There's a change, a subtle one, but he senses it in the way his breathing shifts ever so slightly and his body temperature ticks up, unnoticeable to a human, but Jericho can't help but wonder what he's thinking. There's something about being back in this room that feels strange -- perhaps the memories of those hands bandaging him, helping him undress, showing him the kind of magic he's only ever read about... maybe he should have pressed for one of the spare rooms after all.
He isn't yet himself. It's the only explanation he can give, his hands gently gripping the edge of the mattress as he exhales softly, brow furrowed, and he doesn't like this uncertainty between them. There's something there, some unspoken thing, and he's unsure how to voice how it makes him feel, but he loathes that he doesn't feel in control. Not in this strange place, with someone he's just testing out the feeling of trust with. He wants to be left alone. But there's a part of him that doesn't want Vrenille to leave at all.
This isn't like him, and he wonders if it's because he's out of The Factory's reach, away from the cruel promises that keep him in line. He's trying not to think about what's going to happen when he does get back, because for the first time in a long time, he's been given a taste of the freedom he gave up so many years ago. This is like stepping back into a life he's long since left behind, a life where he doesn't have to deprive himself quite so much of the things he wants. But even as he stares at Vrenille through the heavy silence between them, he can't quite convince himself that any of this is truly real. It could all disappear around him, and he's not interested in putting himself through the same hell he's already visited before.
He breaks eye contact first, a rookie move he's already chastising himself for. ] Go. [ He means for it to come out sharply, but there's no edge there, and he can't make himself want to cut into Vrenille right now. ] I'll... we'll talk later.
on it!
Yeah. Help yourself to anything. [The vague wave of his hand seems to indicate the bottle of firewhisky, among the room's general contents.] I'll come back in a few hours.
[Out in the hall with the door closed behind him, he presses his hands to his face, just for a moment. There's an odd ache somewhere behind the base of his throat. He tries not to think about it, instead composing himself once more, finding his focus, and heading back down to the kitchen where he's sure Kyinnlen and Sesyria are waiting for him.]
(OOC: New thread here!)