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middaeg2020-03-02 09:00 pm
battlebound) wrote in middaeg2020-03-02 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
open / a fading echo spinning away
Who: Steak and you??? [ Open log! ]
When: Throughout the month
Where: Aefenglom, the Wilde
What: Returning from the expedition, going feral, comfort seeking and quest goodness!
Warnings: Violence, suffering, all the good shit
β back home / open to residents of caren's house
When: Throughout the month
Where: Aefenglom, the Wilde
What: Returning from the expedition, going feral, comfort seeking and quest goodness!
Warnings: Violence, suffering, all the good shit
β back home / open to residents of caren's house
[ When Steak walks through the door, he's short one (1) sword and massaging a knot in his shoulders with a tentacle, face drawn into the kind of no-nonsense glower it usually has.β losing it / open
He's still irritated about being devoid of half of his weapons, but it's been days since the theft and he can't keep stewing on it. ]
I need a bath...
[ More to the point, he smells less than pleasant and everything aches in that satisfying way only hard work can achieve. A bath sounds right on point β providing he can reach the bathroom before anyone points out that he smells like dirt and sweat.
Or before anyone catches him detouring towards a bedroom that isn't his, knocking once as warning. ]
Oi. Red Wine.
[ Nothing. But hey, housemate. ]
Is he in there?
[ Or off somewhere being a scoundrel? ]
[ That there's a war inside Steak is something he's quite aware of, even if the fighting goes largely unbroadcast to Aefenglom and its people.β between the wars / closed to red wine
It's nothing more than an irritation. He can deal with it, live life here as normally as he did on Tierra. There's no trouble but the bother caused by growing tentacles and cow ears.
He's fine, as long as he keeps working. Keeps going to DiplomaTea and carrying boxes, helping out those he meets in the city. He ventures into the Wilde, even sans one of his swords, tries to use his new form to combat the lack of a second weapon, and shrugs off the dual instincts responding to any threats.
He craves the water, the land, and enemies on his horns, in his grasp. Anything to keep him safe from the things which follow him back from the Wilde and to the limits of the wall. ]
Get away from me!
[ The cry he lets out as he attacks, fierce and hot, tentacles spinning in lieu of his second sword, is one which should be all too familiar to anyone who spends time in or near the Wilde. But the growl beneath it is harsh, rough with growing instincts and pain as the full moon hovers just beneath the horizon.
But it's fine. It's just another transformation, another evening of agony and strangeness. Nothing unusual, he just needs to get backβ
Get... back.
His head spins, thoughts dissolving from words to shapeless blobs, flashes of pain blinding him as he crosses back into the city.
What is it this time? How much further can his transformation twist his form into something he never intended it to be? Beyond anything any Master Attendant may have forced him to become?
His brow twitches, and he blindly grasps for the nearest surface as his legs buckle, as something white hot clutches at his chest, a vice against his lungs and heart. ]
Dammit...
[ The argument inside him, constant as it is, grows louder, and he grimaces. No. He won't allow this. Even under the full moon, he is not a monster. Not a beast.
And certainly not a discount Uke Mochi.
Steak grunts, head shaking, limbs trembling as he resists the urge to collapse, or the urge to listen to the nature inside of him.
He is a Food Soul.
He is not a monster.
But his body, his mind, disagrees, and the last parts of his arguments to himself disappear within the fog of instinct and destruction. ]
[ Silence reigns inside him, the quiet of exhaustion and agony leaving him still in his bed, hands folded over his stomach, tentacles draping over the edges of the bed.β continuing conquest / open to those on the quest!
He knows Red Wine is there, but his eyes don't leave the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the paint job without any real interest. The only noise the gentle, continuous exhale of breath as he counts the seconds between inhaling and exhaling.
Is... this really what he is, now? Something which loses control so easily? ]
[ He could rest. Some may say he should rest, but Steak has never been good at that. He throws himself into the ongoing quest as soon as the full moon leaves the sky, bouncing over to Dorchacht via teleporter and heading out with a group to set up a new outpost.β in the city / open
The more he moves, the better. The more useful he can be, the better.
The more like a Food Soul he feels.
So perhaps it's a bit overbearing, a redheaded young man striding over when he sees someone trying to lift a heavy object, tentacles already poised to grab it. ]
Let me help!
[ That overbearing need to help extends to Aefenglom itself. While Steak can easily be found continuing his work in DiplomaTea, or fighting things in the Wilde, the real difference is found in the way he approaches the city itself.β wildcard
He spots small problems with an uncanny accuracy. A cat wandering around the streets? He's the first to try to pick it up, to see if it has a tag, or ask anyone nearby if they recognise it. Those stumbling out of the taverns and bars at night are regarded with a wary eye, and he rushes forward to assist the uneasy or stop the violent as needed.
He does whatever he can, but it never quite shakes the unease he feels of that night ]
[ hit me with anything! feel free to contact me at isanghae#8071 /isanghae to hash something out! ]
no subject
[They have their moments of serious conversation, though they're usually framed in spats and arguments, or in insults. Things between them have never needed to be any different, and as time has gone by that has only become more true.]
Perhaps it would have. [He agrees quietly, still looking at his hands. His skin is so pale, now - ashen, even - and he clenches his fists together in response to a sudden, angry thought that he quickly stamps on and dismisses.] But still, [Cold, slim fingers brush Steak's hand then rest there.]
I am sorry. I should have been taking better care of you.
no subject
He swallows, unwinds his arms from around his chest slowly, and catches Red Wine's hand between his own. The chill of his skin enough to make the hairs on the back of Steak's hand prick, just slightly, and whatever warmth Steak offers won't last nearly long enough but...
It feels good. Like this. The numbness from earlier fades slowly as contact is maintained, and some old, Tierran part of him, revolts at the fact that this city has forced him to seek solace in touching Red Wine like this. ]
... [ You always were selfish springs onto the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, ducking his head as he shakes away the instinct for the usual kind of griping he would normally reach for. ] You've enough to deal with.
[ And Steak has hardly been a help there. ]
no subject
The tips of his pointed ears twitch, pricking up slightly and then dipping back down. He claps his free hand over Steak's and feels the warmth slowly leeching into his skin.]
I have. [It's been a lot to get used to, and he hasn't handled it with as much grace as he would have liked to. Steak has been... patient in his own oafish way.]
But I'm well-accustomed to keeping myself and my urges in check. I hated to see you like that.
no subject
Have they always done that? [ And he wastes no time in reaching out a hand, prodding the tip of one of Red Wine's ears with a finger curiously. How had he never noticed that before, in 200 years of not-quite-friendship? Too busy yelling at Red Wine to watch the details of his ears properly. ]
no subject
You--
[Red Wine jerks back, bringing up a hand to smack Steak's aside on impulse. His expression is immediately indignant, but clearly embarrassed.]
Yes, they've always done that. Have you known me for two centuries and never once looked at me?
no subject
Well. Steak can't be too mad at the bastard when he's got that hilarious expression on his face, an expression which is more than enough to bring forward a soft snicker which quickly snowballs into warm, amused laughter.
Enough to drive the reasons they're sat in this bedroom from his mind for a little bit. ]
What, are you saying you want me to look at you?
[ Doesn't Red Wine normally bitch about them being anywhere near each other? ]
no subject
He doesn't answer. Instead, he thumps his companion's arm with a balled fist.]
You are undoubtedly the most unobservant oaf I have the displeasure of knowing.
[His voice is annoyed, but the bond between them doesn't hide anything. He's pleased to see Steak laugh. Frustrated at his ridiculous candor. Baffled at his lack of attention over so many years.
And, under that, a glimmer of unreluctant affection.]
Idiot.
no subject
What do you mean unobservant?
[ Red Wine's the one that hides everything! Gosh. ]
no subject
The dark haired Food Soul gets up, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. Since returning he had already foregone his jacket and waistcoat, both in dire need of cleaning after their little scrap, and the white of the shirt only makes his ashen skin look all the paler.]
If you're going to make fun of me I shall deduce you fully recovered and leave you to your own devices.
[Sulking. He makes a small fuss of retying his hair.]
Utterly ridiculous. Why do I even put up with you.
no subject
Steak's laughter disappears into a grumble at Red Wine's moving away, his lips pursed into something he would never call a pout. Because it totally isn't one. ]
Fine, I'll stop laughing.
[ H u f f. ]
It isn't as obvious as Gingerbread's.
[ Her ears twitch every time she breaks into a smile. Red Wine's are, evidently, more subtle. ]
no subject
[It isn't as obvious as Gingerbread's, because Gingerbread has never made any effort to conceal it. He had noticed it about her the day they met one another.
Red Wine looks sidelong at Steak, bright eyes holding a touch of an odd kind of wariness, but something draws him to sit down again - at the end of the bed this time, rather than directly beside him.
Thinking about Gingerbread just makes him miss her.]
... You are feeling better, aren't you.
no subject
[ β a...h. Steak shrugs, the thing-that-is-not-a-pout shifting into a frown. ]
I won't go feral again.
[ So, in that case, yes, he's feeling better. But he doesn't feel like himself, not entirely, and the banter and laughter is nothing more than a brief distraction from the numbness in his chest, an ache like grief and mourning.
Like losing something he can't quite place.
His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the familiar routine of shrugging things off and forging on ahead dangling in front of him, comfortable and tempting. He's dealt with all sorts of things just fine in two centuries of existence, how could this be any different? ]
... Such things aren't supposed to happen toβ [ But me doesn't sound right, and there's only the briefest pause, intake of breath, before he corrects it. ] βus.
[ Because Red Wine is no more meant to be feral, to fall like that, than Steak is. ]
no subject
He almost says it out loud, but decides that some tact might be more appropriate here and bites back the urge. His eyes lower, a troubled frown briefly tugging at his brow, but Steak's words have him looking up again and meeting his companion's gaze.
Ah.
So, he's finally got there.]
No, they're not.
[Red Wine can feel it even now. The faint tugging in the back of his mind that tempts him to sink his teeth into the soft pulse he can sense throbbing at Steak's throat. Such things aren't supposed to happen to them.]
I'm glad you're finally realising it.
no subject
... How am I meant to deal with this?
[ There's an abrasive quality to the question which hides the fact that it's completely genuine, his hands gesturing at everything that's changed in the months since he arrived. ]
no subject
Fortunately for Steak, Red Wine has a great deal of experience in the matter.
He reaches out and catches one of Steak's hands, gripping it firmly.]
To begin with, you have me here.
no subject
It's strange, how comforting these kinds of touches have quickly become, how Steak feels the weight lift from his shoulders as Red Wine grabs his hand, everything suddenly so much more manageable now that he can feel Red Wine's cold hands against him. ]
... Hmph. [ He would have once had a comment about that, a grumble about how awful that would be, but here and now, in this city, having someone who knows him as well as Red Wine does is a blessing. ]
... Thank you.
no subject
He doesn't say 'you're welcome', but he doesn't make some quip about Steak having manners after all, either. Red Wine just nods once, gives the hand in his a firm squeeze, then lets their arms drop with their hands still lightly clasped.]
Are you going to take my advice?
[Would he consider a Witch bond? Red Wine is... thinking about it.]
no subject
It's doable, certainly, but finding the right Witch is no easier than finding the right Master Attendant. Someone who could live up to the bonds he forged with his prior Attendant, someone trustworthy. ]
I'll look.
[ Not tonight, though. Tonight his body aches from the effects of going feral and his mind continues to dwell on the way he attempted to use his horns on other people. People who didn't deserve it.
He's going to have a lot to make up for. ]