bakerstreet | Find my home with you

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[meme] shipping

Find my home with you

The ＴＯＯＫＹＯＵＩＮ 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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Well you can say no. And I'll do what I can to respect it if you do but... I'm not much without the people in this house.

[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.]

[ The admission pulls at something within him -- perhaps familiarity, because he knows this sense of inferiority and how difficult it can be to overcome it. Most days he doesn't feel remarkable. Instead, he feels like a mutt, not quite human and not quite wolf, fitting into neither side. He's strong by human standards, and weak compared to a full-blooded wolf, and then he's without a pack, and the only family he's ever known was his human mother. There have been many jobs where he's had to take lives into his own hands, shouldering the trust of another person when he knows he's unfit, but the trick isn't in the reality of the situation. He just needs them to believe the lie. ]

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.

[Vrenille's not nearly so delicate that he can't take some very direct (or even some pretty damn harsh) talking to. In a way, that might even be better than trying to address this particular topic kindly: he's probably always going to doubt, but when the situation demands, he can also just shut up about it and focus on the job he's got to do. That's the way things get done--with less second guessing and more plain old rising to the occasion. He knows it, and he also knows that sometimes he just needs a swift kick in the pants to get down to business. But when it comes right down to it, Vrenille has a very good work ethic.

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?

[ He doesn't know what Vrenille might've said to any of this, because in that moment a small robot comes floating toward them, holding his jacket and rambling about something that he immediately wants to tune out. He reaches out and retrieves his now-clean jacket, wondering how it managed to cleanse it so thoroughly of the blood he knows was soiling it completely -- it doesn't even carry the scent of it, though there's definitely something else there to replace it, something that he supposes is meant to smell clean and fresh but really just irritates his hypersensitive sense of smell. Still, he's grateful to have it back, and upon inspection of the many pockets, his knives have also been cleaned and replaced. ]

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?

[There are people who could write treatise on golem sentience. Thankfully, Vrenille isn't one of them. The best answer he would ever be able to give would probably be along the lines of "Sort of? It's complicated." Regardless, for all its snark, the golem seems pleased enough with completing its task, even if it doesn't currently get to rattle off "useful" recommendations that absolutely no one needs like "do-not-use-greatsword-to-clean-teeth" or "daily-vitamins-should-only-be-inserted-orally."

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 don't care right now.

[ 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.

[Vrenille swallows hard as he nods. There's something--maybe just something about Jericho himself--that makes him feel like he's pulled in two directions at once. Like a shell that's been prised opened under pressure, it leaves something in him raw and exposed. The only consolation he can take is that Jericho doesn't seem inclined to exploit him for it...but then maybe that's just the reason: if he did, wouldn't Vrenille wrench himself away, snap the opening closed and brick up the gap?]

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!)

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Find my home with you

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Sorry for the slow--been a hectic few weeks.

i'm definitely slower lmao - also we should start a new thread!

on it!