Who: Waver Velvet & friends
When: throughout February
Where: Aefenglom
What: hanging out, trauma recovery, cuddles, h/c
Warnings: nsfw in some threads
(( ooc: closed prompts below! PM this journal or PP me @ gunsandchocolate if you want to plot something and I'm happy to write you a starter! )) 
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It's a tough situation to be in, especially when you feel like the one being irrational... So as he mentally prepares an answer and takes another drink from the newly opened bottle— then he proceeds to spit it all out hearing the last news, partially through his nose even. ]
You're Bonded with Diarmuid??? [ What a news. How? When? Whut? Where his drunk composure went, he was just about to give advice on weird feelings.
Everything Waver said shall be addressed soon, soon the dog will recover and resume his usual proceedings. ]
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He stops, blinking at Caster dumbfounded. ]
...huh?
[ Why is he shouting?? ]
Yes? Why?
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Guess we can form an "I kinda feel like an asshole club." [ Normally, he'd probably leave it at this. As chatty as he is, he is good at keeping his own personal business his. Alcohol though... ] If I knew that I— I wouldn't say in the hospital what I did.
[ That he blamed himself for not putting the wards and defenses around Inkchanted. That if he did, maybe he and Waver wouldn't be taken, or at least Waver could escape. That it was his lack of foresight and trust in the city that puts him partially to blame.
No wonder Diarmuid looked so sad. If he's Bonded to Waver and Berserker, he must have blamed himself for not being able to save them both. That he failed them. ]
That's okay, I'm not... entitled to that kind of knowledge. [ Oh he tries not to sulk. Stay still gay part of his heart. ]
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What do you mean? What's wrong?
It's not a secret or anything... I suppose it simply never came up.
[ He pulls away slightly from Caster, leaning his elbows on the railing and looking out over the dark sea, breeze sweeping his hair back from his face. The effects of the alcohol are still a gentle buzz under his skin, only slightly slowing his words, and sometimes he pauses to search for the right one, but as the recollection starts, Waver finds himself just... talking. It feels so natural. It all falls into place. ]
When the first of the Mirrorbound wound up in this world, we ended up finding each other. By chance, more than anything. No one else was familiar to me, and in this strange world, considering everything happening and how difficult it was first experiencing the effects of the Sisters and how this place has changed me-- Well, Rider wasn't here yet, and I had no reason to believe he ever would be, for sure...
So it only seemed natural to ally with each other. With Diarmuid, I mean.
It was a matter of convenience at first, a matter of survival as we tried to figure out this new world, but since then... As you know, a lot has changed.
I am... honored, to call him my Bonded.
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But that's between him and Diarmuid. Not between him and Waver. So he is quick to assuage ]
You are right it might not have simply come up. Worry not— I have no doubt in the honesty of your intentions.
[ That's where he gets into that ~~of yore~~ way of speaking, but in the end, it is the most natural to him. Words of a modern punk being brought to him by the Grail and time spent among the modern people ] But I am glad to hear you speak so highly of him.
[ Time for evasive maneuvers!!! ] But back to Judar stealing your blankets—
[ Or rather, Iskandar himself ]
You're not okay with that. So what's next step?
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I don't know the next step. That's why I'm complaining about it!
[ Goddd, don't expect him to have productive answers or anything, wow. Why would you think that?? ]
And it's not like I'm not okay with him living there. I'm just... trying to get used to it, okay?
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He is a king— [ If there are people out there for whom that title matters, he is one of them ] —soooo.... I imagine it could be hard to just say, "don't Bond with him"
[ Double the guilt, because when Judar said there is no one to bond with him, one of the people Caster suggested was goddamn Iskandar. Ugh
Lack of foresight once again ] But how you feel about it, I think that oculd be shared, you know? Even if you think it's the Turnskin instincts messing with you— I think he'd understand that?
[ A shrug ]
Easy to say, I know. It still sucks.
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[ Though Caster has a point about Iskandar being a king, and to Waver of all people, it does matter. Just not in the way of following without question. The problem is that the issues impacting how he feels about this step from entirely illogical sources for the most part, and he can't justify them to himself, even though it doesn't make it easier at all.
Waver sighs again, crossing his arms over the railing and hunching down to rest his cheek on them, face turned toward Caster. ]
You don't have to solve anything. I just wanted to... let it out, I guess... We'll figure it out.
I'm not going to let these stupid instincts override logical thought.
[ Now, more than ever. After what he'd been forced to become in that underground hall of nightmares, the idea that this is affecting him so badly because of what he is now is really frustrating, a little alarming. The added stress isn't helping his recovery, which is already straining under the lack of sleep and shadow of bad dreams. It's just bad timing, really.
But he has Iskandar. He had Diarmuid. He has friends, a home, a support network. He's lucky.
It feels unforgivable to even think about denying the same to Judar, who had also suffered and been terribly hurt.
Waver buries his face in his arms, rubbing it on his sleeve to warm the nip of cold air on his nose. ]
It will be an adjustment, but I wouldn't try to stop him.
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[ It might be too early to say anything. Or maybe it's not necessarily the right thing to say. Sometimes feelings are just feelings, grit your teeth let them pass. Either blow past you like a wind, or— forcibly let them out. Blow off some steam.
Cú shakes his head and starts rummaging at his belt. The big one, with all the alchemical ingredients left at home, but he's always stashing something. A pinch of this, a drop of that, into an almost empty bottle of alcohol. He joins Waver at the railing, as the new concoction in the bottle starts to emit a faint glow. ]
Know what— when I set it on fire and throw in the air. It's gonna be a blast, but with the spell, that's there... no one will hear you for a moment. You can yell out what's on your heart, throw it all out. [ —he's still drunk, yes. Alcohol and magic don't mesh well, some people say. But letting the emotions out isn't always allowed, or always possible. So why not create an opening? ]
To not let it fester and grow— [ —into resentment. That's what usually grows from seed like that. That's added in a much quieter and sober voice, and a flame appears on his hand with a snap of tattooed fingers. ]
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[ Ridiculous, yes. But also, very appealing. Waver huffs, pulling away to lean on the railing, staring out into the darkness beyond. His breath is a puff of white when he snorts, shaking his head. ]
Okay, fine! Do it. Make it real loud. So you can't hear either!
[ Even if that's not possible, Waver trusts him not to repeat any of this, at least implicitly; in reality, he's not thinking much about the future or talking this over with anyone sober. The liquor leaves only the now, and the feelings erupting inside him, barely waiting for the fire to ignite.
The bang is their very own firework. Waver leans hard over the railing, the wind whipping his hair around his face, taking the words from his mouth to carry them out to sea when he shouts. ]
I'm jealous! Okay?! I know it's stupid! I love him and I'm jealous and I'm scared to share! There! I said it!!
Stupid feelings, go away!