stardiving | IC Inbox (Victory Road)

[Yes, congratulations, you are more hard-headed than Estinien is. It's shocking, honestly, but he's been rather open to change recently. Moreso out of a 'well, I didn't expect to survive anything I did in the last few months so...' sort of mood, but...

He's not sure what impression he'd gotten of Steven, but he's not presuming that Solus didn't do something to invite the aggressive response. Mostly because...well, he's also punched you in the face fairly recently.

He just shakes his head slightly, and walks them through the door of the Pokemon Center.]

[He's quite proud of this fact, it works in his favor more than against, or so he thinks. Regardless, it has now, and that's something to be satisfied with! But hey, changes in your life plan usually does a fairly good job of making you open to change, so it's better to embrace it than fight against it! If only Solus were so willing...

And here they are at the center! Of course the sight of them inspires worry from not only the staff, but other patrons. They're quick to usher the two back into an exam room, to which Solus is both relieved and...irritated by. Less so because of the help being offered, but rather because it drives home his frailty in this horrid reality he's forced to live.

Seeing as Nurse Joy is busy with examining Solus for his injuries, they usher Estinien back to the waiting area. Perhaps it's presumptuous on the staff but they give him the paperwork to fill out for Solus with whatever it is he knows, encouraging him to not stress too much over it. The man brought him in, so clearly there must be some relation between them, whether by blood or burden. In this case, definitely the latter.

It all goes relatively smoothly, and for their trouble Solus learns he's got himself a cracked rib, a moderately severe hip flexor strain, both knees are fairly bruised and likewise strained, not to mention all the other impact injuries from the fall and the resulting ass kicking. They suggest treating him with their machines, heal him right up, but he settles on refusing such. Allowing this to heal in a more natural way.

Of course this decision is made out of Estinien's earshot, mainly because he wouldn't want the man to begrudge his decision. Little does he want to suffer such pain, but he's feeling a bit...experimental. Once it's all done, he's been given some compression braces for his knees, some pain medication to help with the...everything, and they're wheeling him out in a wheelchair to Estinien. At least he looks a bit better with the dried blood cleaned up.]

I certainly racked up the list of injuries it seems, but what luck they would be kind enough to lend me this mobility device—though I must admit I was growing ever fond of being carried. [He waves for Estinien to come over to push him.] Come, my apartment is not far from here.

[Estinien has left the form completely blank, basically just putting it on a side table the second the nurse turned their back. When Solus is wheeled back out, Estinien isn't sure whether to roll his eyes or just sigh, he settles for doing neither.

Looks like he's just going to have to push you now.

Even though the receptionist explained to him that they had the ability to completely heal you.

Why would you not choose that.

Whatever.

He just hauls himself out of the chair and goes over, since apparently we're doing this now. Iceheart walks along to the side, glancing up at Solus in the chair every so often as they walk out and into the street.]

[Look, he has his reasons. Which mainly goes into his more scholarly need for understanding things. Never has he truly been in such a position before, it's quite easy to avoid true injury when you are a god-like entity such as him, even in a mortal form. Yet here, he has no powers to rely upon, and while he could easily heal all the injuries, he gains little experience from it. And ever is he hurting for new experiences, new knowledge.

That, and he feels he might be able to use this to his advantage yet.

With them leaving the center, he eyes Iceheart as he notices her continual and intermittent glances, he smiles down at her.] Do you worry for me? Or would you rather like to rest your legs? If you so desire, you may settle in my lap.

[He glances back at Estinien, as if to give him a hint to slow down so the little creature could do so.]

[Well now you're literally hurting for it.

You're just going to use this to milk sympathy points, aren't you?

She pauses for a moment, looking at Solus, then looking at Estinien--who sighs and slows down a bit. With a little yip, she hops up into Solus's lap and sits for a moment, looking at him as if to make sure that he's in one piece. Then she curls up into a cold little ball of snowy fluff on his lap.]

For someone who thinks these creatures no more than constructs, you're certainly indulgent of them.

[Well, no pain no gain, right?

Perhaps he will, perhaps he won't. Who knows what Solus is scheming at any given time, but he is always scheming.

With Iceheart in his lap now, he gently pets over her head and back. Her cool temperature is honestly pretty soothing with all of his aggravated...everything. But with Estinien's comment, he shrugs his shoulders.]

Constructs have their charm, I have made my fair share of them. And while I have my thoughts about them, little does it mean I cannot enjoy their company.

[After all, he enjoys the company of mortals despite his spicy takes about them.]

[Sure, if that thought helps you. Though usually it means the pain inflicted by training is worth the gain of skill.

Estinien stops pushing for a moment.]

Where actually should we be going?

[Once Solus indicates a direction he'll keep moving that way.]

[Experience in and of itself is a merit, is it not?

The stop surprises Solus, but maybe it shouldn't. Look, he's been in a mass amount of pain, playing it off like a champ, and now they've put him on some strong pain meds and he's...a little out of it.]

Ah. Continue down this main road, just past the department store, a few blocks ahead on the right.

[Fortunately it's not too far off, so Estinien won't have to be a draught chocobo to too terribly long! And then he'll get properly groomed like a normal human being should be! As Estinien carts him and Iceheart along, the former is ever lavishing the latter with pets and rubs, little scratches behind her ears... Look, he wants to stay on her good side, this is all part of his scheme, not because he particularly likes her or anything.

Once at his building, he instructs Estinien to take the elevator to the fourth floor, apartment 42. Once inside, it's a humble, pre-furnished studio, far more modest than Solus would like, but he must do with what he can at the moment.]

Quaint, isn't it? [Quaint is a word for it, he guesses.] I believe I can take over from here. As for you, pray help yourself to the washroom, it will be much easier to tend to your mane should it be freshly washed.

[He thinks you're really overrating this whole being injured thing.

You're high as a dragoon mid high jump, is that what this is?

Estinien just nods and keeps moving, if Solus is going to be distracted by petting Iceheart he's not going to complain. Neither is she, because she's getting pets. ~~Gonna be a shame when she evolves and is too big to sit in laps.~~

The apartment is as nice as Estinien's ever had himself, so quaint maybe isn't the word he'd use, but...He puts his bag off to the side of the door, out of the way, and takes his bathing kit out of the side pocket. Sort of still internally shaking his head on agreeing to this, he leaves Iceheart to distract Solus with being generally fluffy and cute and goes to the washroom.

He comes back after about 20 minutes, without his shirt on (showing fully all his scars, including the twisted and burned skin on his shoulder and forearm where the Eyes had been fused to his flesh), hair damp and wrapped in a towel.]

Edited 2020-05-28 05:46 (UTC)

[He is extremely high right now, and feeling oh so good. Much better than the pain he's been in the last...couple hours. Not that the pain isn't there still, but it's more on the fringes of his existence, instead of being front and center.

Despite his highness, and how much Iceheart is a very soft and adorable distraction ~~even when she evolves she's welcome to try to get into his lap still~~, he does indeed get his scissors and comb...granted he did bump that wheelchair into some furniture in his endeavor, but it's fine. It's totally cool, nothing broke, and he's no worse off for it. When Estinien emerges from the washroom, Solus turns to look at him and...just stares a little owlishly.

It's pretty obvious to anyone with a brain that he's absolutely and unapologetically checking him out—who could blame him? Sure, he's seen a million mortals before, and while he's hardly one to be utterly blinded by one's beauty, he can still admire it. Maybe especially so when he feels like he's on another plane of existence. However, his scrutinizing eye takes in more than the beautiful sculpt of his pecs and his abs, but also those scars.

There are so, so many, and the twisted and burned patches in particular grab his notice. He had been possessed by Nidhogg, and he knew well there was a necessary aetherial component needed for such possession to happen. For Ascians...dark crystals, for dragons—well, their eyes were indeed the wellspring of their vitality, so it would only stand to reason... Regardless, the mix of emotion he feels at seeing Estinien's marred, yet chiseled form is...perplexing. He's reminded of the state the other man was in back in the Ruins of Alph, when he had wrangled that Yamask off of him, the panic at being possessed again, the pity he felt for him...

He doesn't realize he's just...staring at Estinien for a little longer than intended. In fact, he still is, as his hand just stays still upon Iceheart's back, his hazed mind flipping through different thoughts and feelings like an emotional rolodex.]

Edited 2020-05-28 08:14 (UTC)

[Well congratulations, you found an unexpected bonus of being mortal--easy to get high as a kite.

Estinien had simply not wanted to get his tunic damp because his hair takes forever to dry, but now he's feeling uncomfortable and extremely exposed since Solus is staring at him like a museum specimen behind glass.]

...perhaps tis better if you sleep it off.

[Because if you're gonna stare at him like that he kinda wants to jump off your balcony and that might not be a great idea from the 4th floor in their current state.]

[It seems like there is indeed a boon to being mortal after all!

Estinien's words snap him from his gawking state, and he shakes his head with a dismissing wave of his hand.]

...My apologies, I know not where my mind had gone, but rest assured I am quite capable of upholding my promise. Come, take a seat.

[He gestures to one of the dining chairs at the little table.]

Pray do so in the middle of the room here, much less of a task to clean up afterwards.

[Estinien just tilts his head at him a little.]

The painkillers.

[Some of the stronger ones can have this sort of effect.

He rubs the towel on his hair again, trying to get some more of the water out before he unwraps it and lets it fall over his shoulders, then walks over to the chair.]

Ah, yes. I confess such has never affected me in such a way ere arriving here, but never mind that.

[Which is not...the most reassuring thing to say when he's about to do what he's going to do. But once Estinien is settled in his chair, where he's supposed to be, Solus removes Iceheart from his lap, gently placing her on the floor, before wheeling his way over to Estinien. Fortunately their heights are close enough, that leaning forward in his chair, using his feet to keep himself parked in place doesn't cause too much disadvantage without standing. Taking his brush, he begins brushing through Estinien's wild hair, working at it surprisingly tenderly.

It's not that he thinks Estinien is tendered headed or anything, he's certain with those scars a little hair pulling is hardly going to be a problem, but it helps nothing to treat the hair so brutishly...and maybe he's enjoying taking his time with the matter. The long, white hair leaves him feeling a little...wistful, reminding him of a friend long lost, from that time before time...

His movements are nearly automatic as he lets his mind wander, and before he knows it, Estinien's hair is fully brushed free of any tangles, yet his hands keep moving, continue to brush through his hair in an almost soothing manner. Something almost affectionate, if one were to name it at all. He's...really out of it, and ever is he prone to melancholy and wistful thinking when his inhibitions are low.]

[Never mind that indeed. Maybe he'll fall asleep before too long and Estinien can just. Wheel him into the other room and sneak out.

He's tense at first, just because he's not used to having people in his space. Much less brushing his hair, which feels like...an incredibly intimate act, honestly, he's feeling very awkward with all this. Especially with someone like Solus who...despite his act and sometimes genuinely being an infuriating shitheel, is also surprisingly honest and open and even melancholy.

He wouldn't know how to reconcile that with the horrible things he's done, and...still can't entirely? He might understand the deep grief, but that doesn't mean that he thinks it's right to do horrible things because of it.

Whup.

Iceheart has moved to his lap since Solus has to be leaning forward for all this, and she's settled down and started to doze, and once the brushing continued for a while, it's honestly soothing and he starts relaxing despite himself.]

[Fucking rude, Estinien. At least put him into bed!

The tension leaving Estinien is certainly part of the point of this. So, while he may have started this with notable tension because of the strange intimacy of it and who is doing it, at least it has lessened considerably by the end. Who knows exactly what it is that snaps him out of his thoughts, but he does eventually come out of it. Surprised that Estinien hasn't complained at him for taking too long, but not complaining that he hasn't.

Putting his brush down, he swaps to the comb, taking the scissors in his other hand. Now, he considers for a moment to ask Estinien just how short he'd like his hair to be, but then also decides he probably doesn't care. Also, the thought barely lasts in his hazy brain as he sets to work, running that comb through his hair, gathering it together...and cutting it off.

It's about 4 inches off the back, so that brings it to roughly his shoulders, but he...hadn't meant to just cut it off in a big chunk like that. It's then that Solus realizes he might actually be too high for this, but a little too late! So, acting like he didn't just do something utterly stupid, he continues, forcing himself to focus more intently on what he's doing.

...until he gets to Estinien's side, his eyes trailing down to that shoulder that once bore Nidhogg's eye. The scarred, burned skin a reminder of such a grisly time...but then his eyes trail further down to that bicep, and before he realizes what he's doing, he touches it lightly with his hand.]

[He's carried your ass around enough for one day!!!

He doesn't really have much else to be doing, and the motion is relaxing enough that he's actually...fallen into a light doze.

What, he had to run back here and haul your ass across town, he's allowed to be a little tired. You're heavy and he's done a lot of walking today.

So he'd noticed when Solus cut his hair--there's the sensation of it being gathered, and a bit of the scissors going through it--but not how much of it he'd removed. Solus is right that he doesn't really care, though, so much as it's not all cut off--his hair grows quickly, a few moons will see whatever was removed back and then some.

But then he feels the light touch on his arm, and he almost flinches--not expecting it--and the tension comes back.]

...are you finished fussing?

Ah—not quite.

[He removes his hand at that, Estinien's stirring and his question bringing him back to what he's doing.]

After all, you still have that fringe in yours eyes. Won't be too terribly long, now.

[He sets back to work, trimming that side as he was supposed to from the start, instead of gawping at Estinien's bicep. Truly, what is the matter with him? As if he's never seen a man chiseled from the life of a soldier before...he must be losing his mind. However, as he goes to finish up the other side, he looks to Estinien's forearm—scarred like that shoulder—and finds himself touching the marred skin.]

This is from Nidhogg, is it not?

[You're high as a kite, that's what the matter is with you. Look at you, getting all these experiences in.

The moment's gone, and Estinien is starting to shift a little uncomfortably, like there's too much energy pent up under his skin. Iceheart lifts her head and pokes his hand with her nose, so he starts letting out that nervous energy by scratching her ears.]

...aye. Tis where the wyrm's eyes sat.

Mm. A pity.

[He doesn't move his hand immediately, as he feels the skin and looks it over. The grooves from the burns, the scarring that's warped the skin...it's awful ugly, but just as pitiable. His mind wonders to that conversation they had, where Estinien, robbed of breath from panic, told him of such possession. Of such tragedy not only for him, but for Nidhogg too. A piteous fate and a piteous sight—if Estinien were any less noble he would not allow himself to think on it overmuch, yet he has proven himself several times now.

Finally he removes his hand, focusing back on Estinien's hair, finishing the side and measuring it with the rest. Lastly are his bangs, which puts Solus and Estinien face to face, Solus offering him a disarming (and quite obviously high and exhausted) smile.]

My, once I have finished, you might look passable for civilized. You do clean up nicely.

[And as if he wasn't pushing his luck already, he curls his forefinger under Estinien's chin to attempt to turn his head as he eyes those sheepdog-like bangs of his, trying to decide what to do with them.]

[The hand on his shoulder doesn't move, and his discomfort just starts ratcheting up accordingly. During his childhood, he remembers freer touch, his parents and their affection, his little brother being glued to his side, but after...Estinien had already well pulled away from most of the Temple Knights before he even started his dragoon training in earnest, and friendly claps on the back or hands on his arms were few and far between.

And dragoon training, especially for those such as him, is tailored to reinforce their anger, aggression, and fear.

Where Solus looks tired, and disarming, Estinien looks nervous and jittery, and trying very desperately not to bolt or bite.

So, really, it's not much of a surprise that Estinien jerks his head back before Solus can touch him with a warning growl rumbling deep in his throat, flashing his teeth in a display that's not so much intentional, or even human, as pure draconic instinct, a warning that he has fangs and if you persist in your course, you may yet feel them.]

[The nervousness certainly did not dissuade that hands approach, but he stills and hangs in the air at Estinien's backward jerk and growl. His eyes wide, eyebrows raise at the display, and he's left wondering exactly the cause. This is not the typical reaction to one invading another's space, it's not even typical of a man—no, this is something more...dravanian in nature.

Settling his hand back in his lap, as he likewise leans back in his own chair, his expression returns to that disarming and gentle smile it was a moment ago, perhaps fringing on concern.]

Estinien, you need not react so. I do not aim to harm, you realize yes? What has you so afraid of my touch, I must wonder.

[His eyes narrow, but not with malice, rather with curiosity as he looks the man over, scrutinizing his face, his posture.]

Is it intimacy you fear?

[Well, perhaps not, but Estinien sure as seven hells can't tell you how his own brain perceives threat sometimes, or why his already limited words sometimes leave him entirely, like they have now.

Sensing his mood, Iceheart shifts and gets up from his lap, turning around to lean up and put her front paws on his shoulders and butt the top of her head against the bottom of his chin, with the soft crunch of the ice crystals in her fur.

The contact makes him visibly jolt out of the reverie with a shudder, but it's cold fur and not someone's hand, so it doesn't come with the same sort of threat to a mind trained to see them everywhere.

He ducks his head down to press his forehead against the little puff of fur on the top of hers, burying his face in the fluff and the grounding cold.]

...need to stop.

[...he'd probably be more discernible if he wasn't speaking into the top of a Vulpix's head, but...]

[Fortunately with Solus' attention fully on Estinien...or as much as it can be with his state, he does hear him. At least the important part. He frowns for a moment, because he isn't done, but it's not exactly advisable to try to cut someone's hair when they're freaking out or against it. Especially with scissors so close to their face. Letting out a soft sigh, his eyes scan over the two for a moment...what a sorry pair they are.

What a pitiful mess he is.

Idly, his gaze wanders to the kitchen, to his fridge. He hadn't much in there, but...]

If you need a drink to calm you, I am glad to accommodate.

[A beat, his eyes flicking from his fridge to the pair once more.]

...My apologies, I had not meant to disturb you so. I suppose I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me.

[Look, he never said you couldn't pick it back up later if you insisted, but he's having a bit of a time right now okay.

After another breath or two, he straightens up, face tinted a bit red from the cold.]

No, just...a moment.

[Or...a few. Maybe a couple hours. He's never quite sure how long this lasts. He shifts Iceheart off his lap so he can get up and go back to the bathroom, and grabs his tunic and gloves, pulling the former over his head before tugging his gloves on and coming back out. Already, having his coverings back makes him feel better.]

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