stardiving | IC Inbox (Victory Road)

[Listen, you never know how spooked people get! And how unwilling they are to resume something once they've been frightened. It's just more realistic to assume the worst!

Solus is still watching him as he takes his time, then goes to the bathroom. Once the door is closed, he sighs and rolls his eyes. Then he rolls himself over to the fridge to pull out a can of beer for himself and for Estinien. Not that he...needs to be drinking on his pain meds, but hey! Science!

With Estinien returning, and regrettably covered up, Solus holds up the can, shaking it lightly (not enough to shake it up) before putting it on the table for him. Turning his attention to his can as he goes to pop it open.]

Queer little cans they've got here, hm? 'Tis ale, in case you weren't sure.

[By Zodiark, Estinien stop him.]

[Yes, the gun show has closed for the day, how tragic.

Estinien reaches out to snatch the can before Solus gets it open and sets it on the table. He's been around the chirurgeons enough to know how bad of an idea this combination is, and has been tasked with keeping other knights out of their cups while drugged on poppy milk. (Shockingly, a lot of alcohol abuse among Temple Knights and the Knights Dragoon both.) He's not sure what you've been given but you're acting like them so he's not gonna let you take that chance.]

You cannot mix alcohol and painkillers of the sort you've been given. It could cause you to slip into a coma, possibly die.

[And he just dragged you to the Pokemon Center, you falling into a drugged stupor would negate all that work.]

[It really is incredible how much faster someone can move when they're both not injured nor drugged. Solus sits there for a moment, staring at his empty hands, before leveling that surprised look at Estinien. With that scolding, he smiles at him.]

Would that really be so bad?

[He says it with a clear edge of humor to his tone, but there's also...enough of a genuine look to his eye that leaves it questionable how much that was a tasteless joke. He's still running some theories off in his head about this mortal form, and whether or not one might truly be capable of dying...but maybe he shouldn't experiment with such while Estinien's here.

Or at all, really, but whatever.]

But very well, if you insist, I swear I won't touch a drop till the painkillers have run their course.

[Estinien just levels him with a flat look that says 'that really isn't funny'.]

I only just hauled you here, do try to keep yourself in one piece for more than a few hours.

[Seriously, how inconvenient, downright rude even.

He goes to put both drinks back, because he's not going to drink when he's not gonna let you do it either, and instead rattles around until he finds glasses for water for the both of them. Then he comes back and sets himself down back in the chair. Iceheart leans against his leg, and he takes a breath.

He doesn't look as grey, certainly.]

[And Solus just shrugs at his look. Clearly grim humor such as that is wasted on people who give a shit.]

I have no true designs to kill myself, worry not.

[Except he just nearly...and it's not like he didn't have some idea, he knows alchemy, but also he might have just forgotten with this hazy mind of his. Whatever... Raising an eyebrow at the glass of water, he sighs and resigns himself to taking a drink. He sorely needs it, as his parched throat makes such immediately apparent the moment water touches it...and sure enough he downs the whole glass.

Putting the glass on the table he glances at Estinien, watching him for a moment.]

You certainly look better. [He offers after a moment.] ...Is that why you were not so keen about dressing down at the beach? None too proud of the scars upon your body?

[Yeah he's used to that being a cry for help.

He just sighs and shakes his head. At least if he's a disaster, he's not also self-destructive ~~usually~~.]

I do not relish the piteous stares of strangers, no, and as you've seen--tis not like they are subtle.

[He takes a sip of water.]

People are wont to ask questions.

[It probably is, even if Solus himself doesn't think so.]

Is it so terrible that someone might take an interest in you?

[Solus certainly has, as if that isn't obvious by now.]

I can understand not wanting to be pitied, little is there aught more humiliating, but do you truly detest others so? I would not guess as such, with how willing you are to give even your enemy succor. Even save him from himself. A lesser, more hateful man would have let me drink myself to death.

Would have left me to rot in that stairwell.

[Being known is a horrifying ordeal. He much prefers being a weird cryptid.

But you've told him much and more today, so a small trade seems only fair.]

...I have been that hateful man. Little and less do I wish to be him again.

[He glances away, down at Iceheart sitting on the floor, looking back up at him.

It's not the first time he's come to see someone he's counted as an enemy in a different light.]

[There's a silence that falls after Estinien's admission, and Solus watches him for a moment. His eyes trailing down to Iceheart as well.]

...Her name is Iceheart. Seems a fitting name, all things considered, but I would wager it was not brought about by idle creativity.

[His words are deliberate and gentle, like he's trying to not spook a wild animal with his verbal approach.]

Would it have aught to do with that hateful man you once were?

[The silence continues for a few moments longer, as Estinien mulls over his words.]

...In part.

[There's another pause, before he continues--he rubs his left wrist idly with his other hand as the words start coming.]

There were a number of Coerthans who learned aught of the truth of the Dragonsong War afore the rest of us, and threw their lot in with the Dravanians. Their leader was a woman named Ysayle Dangoulain, the Lady Iceheart. She meant to end the war, to restore the peace that man and dragon had once shared--I thought it folly, of course, by that time I already knew well Nidhogg's unceasing fury, though I asked to accompany her, the Warrior of Light, and Alphinaud all the same to attempt to parley.

Tis not any kind of exaggeration to say that we loathed each other, but by the end of our travels we had...come to understand each other, somewhat.

[He shakes his head, it had been not so long ago after all, and so much had happened.]

...she gave her life to protect ours, in the end, when we flew to confront Thordan and put an end to his lies and ambitions. And whilst Nidhogg's eyes were being pulled from me, her spirit was watching still. Nidhogg would have killed us all, were she and another not there with us.

[Hers and Haurchefant's spirits both--their sacrifices had kept the hope of ending the war alive, and without them he would not be here, unworthy as he feels of it at times.]

[Silent and patient, he listens as Estinien surprisingly says...quite a lot. It's clear to him the hurt he feels recounting this, the mourning and grief. The guilt. The war in itself explains a lot of Estinien's...quirks, the tragedy and trauma that rides along with such atrocities against life. But this explains much more.

Gives depth, context.]

...Did you love her?

[The words are said before he can stop them, loose-lipped as he is normally, worse so when high and in pain, but he does not try to retract the question once he realizes that was not an idle thought in his head, but one spoken out loud.]

[He doesn't know how to answer that. He had been still so single-minded, thinking only of avenging his family, his people, and killing all the dragons he possibly could before his life was snuffed out himself. He hadn't expected to live to see the end of the war, scarce expected to see even the end of the year whenever a new one started. Love was certainly not a consideration.]

...Mayhap I could have, had our lives been different. I know not.

[He shrugs, looks away, looks tired. His hair is in his eyes again, the fringe in front still long enough to fall over his eyes, hide them when he doesn't want to see or be seen.]

But if aught else, she deserves to be remembered.

...All who we've lost deserve to be remembered.

[Again he speaks without thinking, but his gaze has drifted from Estinien, focusing on nothing in particular. They are kindred spirits, in a way. In their loss and pain. In their grief and wistfulness for those taken from them. Those who have sacrificed themselves, so that they may yet live.]

You have my condolences, truly. 'Tis never easy losing the ones we love, and to remember them is a burden most bittersweet—but it is the duty of those who survive to cherish the memories of the ones we have lost. To preserve them, in any way that we can, so they are never truly gone.

Edited 2020-05-30 07:36 (UTC)

[There are a lot to remember, and...it's hard to, sometimes. His mother's voice, his father's face, his brother's smile--all have faded over the years, he's lived his life longer without them than with. The rest of Ferndale--cousins, aunts, uncles, friends--were just as fogged in his mind.

When he's gone, there will be no one left to remember them.

Then there were others, fellow Knights and Dragoons, fallen in battle--some whose names he'd never even learned, but if he'd been faster or stronger, perhaps...

No, he cannot think like that, he'll go mad.

He's lost in his own thoughts for the moment, so he doesn't respond to Solus's condolences, just holds the glass of water in his hands and stares into it like it holds the secrets of the world.]

[The tragedy of the mortal mind, that such important, heartfelt things can become faded and forgotten. Where as for Solus...for Hades, he remembers it all. Every excruciating detail, every feeling, sound, sight. All of it has been etched into his very soul.

So when the silence falls from Estinien's end, Solus likewise stays silent as his mind is transfixed on the past. Thinking on that time of death and fear, of all those lives lost. Of the destruction of Amaurot—of the sacrifices made. Of the sundering. With a grimace, he brings his hand up to his forehead, rubbing at it with his thumb and forefingers.

What a sorry pair they make, piteous and damaged. Burdened by the weight of being survivors, both tormented and traumatized by their duty to their lost loved ones. After a long moment, his gaze returns to Estinien, beholding him with an expression of empathy. His chest hurts worse in this moment than any of those kicks Steven had laid into him, a deep, raw ache that never quite goes away. But at times, it gets worse, and now is certainly one of those times.

Without thinking, for his mind is much too busy to do anything of the sort, he attempts to stand. It's a wobbly endeavor, one that does not instill confidence, but with the pain meds at work, he's able to do so. For the moment, at least.]

'Twould seem we both well know this misery, hm? While we may not be allies back on The Source, we are here—through truce and understanding.

Should you ever need for succor, know I shall provide it.

[Aye, just two sad bastards being sad and tired. The memories being dragged back up ache as they always do, a sluggishly bleeding wound that he can't stop picking at, an old bruise that he sometimes hits without meaning to.

He sighs, looks up from the glass in his hands to Solus standing. Not sure if that's a good idea, but...]

So it would seem.

[He puts the glass up on the table.]

You should rest.

Mayhap.

[Which does not sound like he plans to do that.]

Yet, I still have much and more to do...

[And he goes to take a step, which only proves Estinien's point as he very clearly loses what strength there is in his legs. Should Estinien feel inclined, Solus will feel the full folly of his choices by soundly hitting the ground.

The choice is yours, dragoon!]

[Oh seven hells--

Estinien moves quickly, true, but not quite enough to position himself to catch Solus before he hits the ground.

This is why they gave you a wheelchair, dumbass. Maybe you'll feel like resting now.]

[~~All senior citizens need life alert!~~

Solus lays there for a moment on his side, cringing from the pain and the dizziness that accompanies such...sudden movement. He had hoped that maybe Estinien would have caught him, but he supposes the man can only move so swiftly.

With a defeated smile, he peers up at Estinien.]

...Right then, about resting.

[Look, he tried!]

Now you'll think about taking that advice?

[Estinien just...shakes his head a little, then thinks about the best way to get him up off the floor without making things worse. He hooks his arms under Solus's armpits and hauls him up as Iceheart nudges the wheelchair closer so he can transfer the battered and bruised idiot into it and roll him towards the bed.

Can you take it from there, or does he need to get you into that too?]

Sometimes one merely needs, ah...gentle persuasion, is all.

[Yes, how...gentle...

There's a pained sound that leaves him as Estinien hauls him up from the ground, but he doesn't complain beyond that and the grimace that pairs with it. His side is throbbing, and idly he wonders if that was the side with the broken rib—hard to know, when both sides were so horribly bruised. Ah well.

Once at his bed, he pauses a moment to look back at Estinien.]

...You have my thanks. I realize this has eaten a great portion of the day which does little to aid in your traveling, and while 'tis not the luxury of a bed, you are free to rest on yonder sofa for the evening.

[He pushes himself up from the chair, and fortunately is able to transfer himself onto the bed with a slightly strained grunt. With a playful smirk, he looks to Estinien, before eyeing the queen bed he's on.]

Granted, should that prove ill-suited for rest, there is always plenty of room here. I am no stranger to sharing a bed with a friend.

[Does he mean...platonically? Does he mean...not so platonically? WHO KNOWS.]

[Yes that was very gentle. The floor here is very soft and kind.

You speak of luxurious beds as if he wasn't straight up planning to sleep on the ground tonight, so...]

Dying in a stairwell would be an ignominious end, even for one such as you.

[He debates turning it down entirely. He's no stranger to traveling at night, or whenever it really pleases him to, but it'd be a shame for you to die in your sleep or do something stupid in the night that ends with you face first on the floor again.

But he's definitely not about to cuddle.]

The sofa will suffice.

[It's softer and more kind than a lot of other shit that's hit him in life. Literal and metaphorical.

Look, he thinks even nasty feral men like Estinien should enjoy such luxury once in a while! Maybe Estinien a bit more than that, but he gets it. He's a fucking animal in a person suit.]

How touching that you would wish that my end would be one with dignity.

[As he talks, he works his bolero off, cringing slightly at the movement necessary for it. Not that it slows him down any. He's not about to sleep in so many layers.]

In the closet, there's a spare blanket, perhaps a pillow too.

[Even after all that traumatic bonding? And here people think ascians are heartless!]

Edited 2020-05-31 03:25 (UTC)

[Yeah well you're letting a nasty feral man crash on your couch after giving him 3/4ths of a haircut while stoned out of your gourd, what does that say about you.

He nods and goes over to the closet--there is indeed both a blanket and pillow, look at you being all prepared for guests, assuming that you either like someone enough or someone else likes you enough to have a sleepover. So optimistic.

He drops the bedding on the couch and sits to take off his boots and gloves--but his vest was already off, so that's all the stripping down he's doing.

He can already tell there's a bit of a logistical problem here, with the arms of the couch the actual space for sitting--or in this instance sleeping--is about a fulm shorter than he is tall. Not that he's going to let this stop him, but...

He lays down on his back first, which is instantly dismissed as an option as most of his legs are hanging off the end of said couch, then turns over onto his side and curls up under the blanket as well as he can.]

[While Estinien is trying to figure out how to sleep on a couch made for LITTLE PEOPLE, Solus sets to work getting out of his way too many layers. He's less concerned about not showing skin than Estinien is, but it's not like he's aiming to get naked here. Shirtless, but he stays in his tights to not spook Estinien too much. Though, this just means the nasty bruising is completely visible, something he's not...particularly fond of, but it is what it is.

If he wasn't injured, he might not have let his clothes more or less pile on the floor, but fuck it. He's hurt, high, and actually pretty exhausted. So, as he's settling into bed properly, he cannot help but notice how Estinien looks...pretty uncomfortable. For a long moment he contemplates reminding him of the alternative, that they can indeed share the bed, before settling on a decision.]

...Dragoon, truly you cannot sleep comfortably like that. There is still half of my bed available if you so desire it. Iceheart may join you as well, if that would give you any measure of comfort.

[You know, in case you're worried about any wandering hands or anything like that.]

Edited 2020-05-31 07:16 (UTC)

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cw: suicide joke...

therapy, emet...

What's that???

something you should consider looking into

Mmm. No. I think not.

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