Event Log: May

[moustre]

Event Log: May, Moving Day

I. GATHERING The morning of the 15th is heralded by the sing-song voice of The Coven's coimeadai sidhe Nerissa Bell ringing through the hallways, seemingly unimpeded by the heavy doors or any silencing spells that have been placed in rooms. She asks that all those who arrived at the beginning of the month - not the new inductees, the ones from The Looking-Glass House - gather in The Coven's main room; she has some exciting and important news to deliver. Once everyone is gathered, Nessie (very much a morning person, and sorry to the anyone who isn't) grins and lays a hand on her chest. "Thanks to a good bit of your lot, we've managed to get things ready in record time - aye, I should start out with what I'm talking about, aren't I? Well, well - with the Parliament's permission, thank goodness for my Mhairi's sharp wit, we've managed to get a space for all you to live in outside of The Coven. You can still come and attend classes or talk to all of us, 'course, but everyone's been getting a bit itchy with such suddenly crowded quarters, aye?" Aye aye, calls some poor, tired student from the second floor as they pass through, and Nessie pauses with a slow blink before she laughs, shaking her head. "Anyway, gather your things if you have any and follow me. Or us," she corrects herself, as a few other Witches seem to materialize from nowhere. "Can't be out without a couple of friends, I suppose." As soon as everyone's ready, Nessie and her entourage lead them out of the courtyard, aglow with fresh flowers and the soft light of dawn peeking between the clouds. The spot they've managed to get isn't too far from The Coven proper, and it doesn't look much different than the rest of the Aristocratic District that it resides in - the only thing that sets it apart is the sign Nessie takes a moment to conjure up and hang with balls of light between two streetlamps. The Haven. "Named so as a respite for all you refugees," she explains as she turns around; she sets her hands on her hips, gazing out at the crowd, and gives them a small smile. "I can't stay and chat right now - Mhairi's still with Parliament even with the hours, and I've got things to get in order at the Coven still - but if you have need of either of us, we'll be in contact. We've a little mailbox set up in front of the Coven just for you lot, so just drop us a letter or some such with one of our names or both, and we'll be right quick about answering, we will. Within reason," Nessie adds, laughing a little, "'course, within reason. Anyway, find some familiar faces and have a lovely time, will you?" With that, and a few more little goodbyes, Miss Nerissa Bell takes her leave; half of her Witches disappear with her, but the other half remain to help keep an eye on things as the day progresses and to help with directing people to either houses or the barracks set against the Wall. While there will be no NPC threads this time - sorry! - we have opened up an NPC Inbox! You can find it here. While they definitely prefer letters, they do both have watches now like cool moms and can be contacted through that as well, provided they aren't busy at the time.

II. THE HAVEN Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in an program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Some may be familiar with this portion of Aefenglom already, as they took on the task of helping to clean the area up. Surprise, one could say; they were preparing their own future homes, for their stay in the city. However, another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. Not everyone is so happy, however. A very vocal group of younger rich people are set on harassing and bullying those moving into The Haven, and they aren't afraid to use a little magic to do it. Levitation, fake fire, real fire, sudden weather shifts, and threats to do more if they don't find somewhere else to live are all present - these aristocrats don't care for the new people butting into their lives, especially anyone who looks distinctly non-human or already have signs of their Monster traits coming in. There are others, though, who are quite pleased to have new neighbors - many of them weren't so happy with their other ones - and have set up little stalls to peruse and tables to sit at to help foster them in. These have everything from food to flowers, to expensive-looking trinkets and jewelry on them - the people running them are quite amiable, especially closer to the Residential District proper, and don't mind handing these out for free... or mostly free. The only thing they'll ask of any characters wishing to procure something from their gifts is to perform a trick - sort of like a one-man talent show. They aren't picky, and as long as a character does their best, they'll give them a gift. (Or someone with quick fingers could just swipe them off, given how unprotected they are, but that person will find their hands turning red and leaving similarly-colored marks on everything they touch, as if dipped in paint.)

III. AND THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches left over from Nessie's group have come together to set up a little roommate finding service that will run for the week. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a similar kind of amplification magic that Miss Nessie used earlier in the morning for her own voice. It seems these Witches - or at least one of them - has a prankster nature... and unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. a. A LITTLE MISCHIEF While by and large the board will work as it should - a listing is filled out, put up, and read aloud for all to hear - for characters who aren't interested in doing some writing, or who can't for one reason or another, the board will take it upon itself to make one for them. It isn't going to be the most accurate at all, being either completely fictitious or based on a first impression from the board itself. This can range from "They have blue eyes, so you know they're a kind person!" to "How stand-offish, they must be a crook! A thief! A villain!" and anything in-between, including but not limited to: outrageous feats they may or may not have accomplished, poor hygiene habits, false accounts of incredibly embarrassing moments, and so on. b. A LITTLE HANDS-ON Not entirely content with just allowing people to write their preferences and call it a day, a few of the younger Witches have begun magicking small chocolates, hard candies, and bubble gum, and handing them out to new arrivals as a welcome treat. These aren't any ordinary treats though - they have one of three of effects: • Sticky fingers, meaning characters will stick to anyone or anything they touch. • Truthfulness, meaning characters will say whatever they're really thinking or feeling at the moment. • Desire for company, meaning characters will gravitate immediately to the first person they see, regardless of their feelings on them otherwise. Thankfully, none of these last long - only about ten minutes, and they can't be combined with each other; eating one candy with one effect will simply replace any other effects... Which might be for the better. The subthread for this can be found HERE, while any ones that are made up by the board itself can be simply written into your top levels or replies to other people. Have fun with it, and good luck finding some housemates!

Welcome to the midmonth event log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. As ever, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know, and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[lovebiter]

[ Cain tugged at Julian's hair again to force his chin up, and leaned forward to kiss him. Viciously savage, teeth nipping at lips and tongue, tongue pressing into Julian's mouth in an act of feral violence. He caught Julian's lips between his teeth and bit hard and sharp, kissed past the taste of blood.

He leaned back when he needed to gasp one huge, heaving, ragged breath, red smeared on his mouth. Scooped up Julian again to continue on their weaving way to the crumbling tower. ]

[rowdyraven]

[Julian's head jerks up at the tug to his hair, face upturned in pliant supplication, and when the kiss comes it's rough and it's bloody and it hurts, and it makes his masochist's heart sing. Breathless, mouth forced open to the pressure of the other man's tongue, the copperhot tang of his blood mingling with the taste of the rain and Cain's lips and the tavern swill they've both consumed. He makes a sound, soft and low and desperate, quite unbidden, into the press of the other man's lips, and when Cain finally pulls back from him he's left silenced, all further protests dead where they stand.

He's yanked back up onto his feet, sways unsteadily, allows himself to be led in soft, stunned silence in the direction of whatever place Cain's decided to call home.]

[lovebiter]

[ Thunder rolled overhead as they wove through the narrow streets towards the crumbling old tower. The rain and damp and cooling air was making a foggy mist start to rise up from the cobblestones, and everyone else out was wearing slickers or cloaks, moved fast through the rain.

One last cut through an alley and they came to the tower's base, nestled near the back gardens of the homes facing out to the street. The base was made of big old grey fieldstones, repaired in some spots with brickwork, with moss grown up between them. The heavy door was padlocked, and Cain ignored that, rounding the square structure to one of its sides, where some ship's discarded jacobs' ladder had been let down from some window or opening at the tower's top.

He pushed Julian toward the rope webbing. ]

Start climbing. I'll come up real close behind you and keep my arms on the sides of your waist, make sure you don't fall and get yourself killed.

[rowdyraven]

[The walk passes him by in a blur. Never mind that he's sodden to the bones now, greasy curls plastered down against his rain-slicked face, clothes clinging to all the sharp angles of him like a second skin. he's too drunk to notice, or to care, mind gone murky-dark with drink and the ugly thoughts that swim there.

A derelict tower may seem an odd choice for a home, but something brightens in him when he sees it, an indistinct yearning that he can't quite place and doesn't really understand, but none of that matters right now. Cain directs them towards the rope ladder, gives him an encouraging push, and perhaps the real surprise is to be found in how easily Julian takes to climbing it despite the number of drinks in him. Nimble as a cat and only a little unsteady, be begins to make the climb as though he's done just this a million times before.

It's because he has. He can climb a ship's rigging with all the ease and grace of any weathered seaman, and with the hard-muscled man poised close behind him, strong arms penning him in, there seems little to fear from a fall. Not that a desperate plunge towards death has ever been enough to frighten him.]

[lovebiter]

[ Cain had to hurry to keep up.

And was pretty stunned, kept his eyes on Julian the whole long climb up, realizing swiftly that the concern was pretty unnecessary. With no such skill himself, he made his way up in Julian's wake with the haste of raw athletic ability, graceless but powerful.

At the top was a glass-paned window kept ajar, the top loops of the long ladder looped over nails thick as fingers on the old oaken sill. Inside was just a mess. One single large square room, with a few drips from old cracked tiles on the roof. A pile of cushions and blankets and sheets on one side for a bed, a little potbellied iron furnace and stove, its pipe passed through one wall. There was a modest collection of wood beside it, an iron frying pan on top of the unlit stove, and a magpieish scattering of personal effects. A few old books on the floor, knives and clothes on pegs on one wall, one cracked mirror and a wide mouthed glass jar full of change. The floor was creaky but otherwise solid, and the other three big arches on the walls had been filled similar imperfect windows. Half of them didn't even properly close all the way.

Cain followed Julian in and shook himself off like a dog, started immediately to disrobe. ]

Get outta your wet clothes or you'll get sick. Are you cold?

[rowdyraven]

[He climbs through the window with more of that fluid, practiced ease - another thing he's done many times, ducking into narrow spaces in the roiling dark to escape the pounding feet of palace guards - only spoils the effect once he's inside, feet catching on themselves at the last as he stumbles when on solid ground. He barely notices his surroundings - head spinning, vision hazy - knows only that it's somewhere sheltered and dry, somewhere close and cosy, almost warm.

He looks down at himself unsteadily in the wake of the other man's command, then begins plucking at his clothes with numb fingers, stripping down through the layers until he reaches damp and pale-glistening skin. Dim light gleams off the fine red hair that scatters his chest, his arms, makes small points of fire out of it. Leather gloves drop heavy to the floor, and he runs his bared hands back through wet and tangled hair.]

What, me? No. No I er, I can't feel much of anything. Hah.

[He's too drunk for feeling to penetrate.]

[lovebiter]

[ Cain wasn't shy about watching Julian while he undressed. But he barked a laugh and waved at the other man, turning toward the stove. The metal door groaned when he pushed it open, and began to nakedly feed a little bit of wood into it. ]

I don't have towels yet. Just dry yourself off with one of those sheets, hang it up on a peg when you're done with it.

[ Wood split into little chips were the closest thing he had to kindling, so he piled two handfuls of those onto the split logs, and reached in, snapping over the wood to try and make fire. It took four tries, but eventually a little flame took hold, and he opened the flue and blew into the fire until he was sure it wouldn't immediately die. He left its door open a crack and moved to hang up his wet clothes by the furnace. Julian's, too, after shaking out most of the water. ]

[rowdyraven]

[And for his part, Julian isn't shy about being watched. Peels his wet clothes off just the same, drops clumsily to the floor and sprawls as he tugs off his long, leather boots. Only stands again when he's stripped down to nothing but bare skin, and he's moving then to towel himself down with a sheet as Cain labours over the fire. The fire takes, after a moment, and Julian watches the younger man move about the humble space as he scrubs the sheet over damp curls, rids himself of the worst of the rain's insidious soak.

His eyepatch sticks to his face unpleasantly, and there's a moment when one pale hand begins to lift towards it, flutters there like an uncertain bird, only to drop away again. Even like this - drunk, unsteady, undone - there's a wariness there, concern that makes him think better of it. This isn't his world, but the stigma of the plague is something he carries in his bones, now.

He pads barefoot across the room to hang the dampened sheet on a peg, glances back over his shoulder. Catches the other man's eye.]

Well, um. This is cosy, isn't it? Nice and high up.

[It matters, somehow. It does.]

[lovebiter]

[ Cain went to the sheet Julian had hung up, used a drier edge to get the worst of the rain out of his hair, ruffling it vigorously over his head. ]

I know! It was pretty much this or a tanner's basement. There weren't stairs, either, the owner said I had to find my own way up. Paid a wingy guy to help me get the rope-ladder up here.

Too bad it's raining, because the view is amazing. You can see out to harbor two directions. When it's not wet, I just sleep with all the windows open.

Leave your patch, too. It'll just feel gross if you keep it on. And come with me.

[ He caught Julian by the wrist, led him toward the scattered cushions and blankets. ]

[rowdyraven]

[Wingy guy. Tanner's basement. Amazing view. The words are a bit of a jumble to him, and he tries to piece them together as Cain talks, to make sense of the saturated tangle inside his own head, the fog he's trying to see through. The words sink into him, though, when Cain says leave the patch, and though his hand flutters briefly upwards again, this time he disregards the other man's command. Damp and uncomfortable yes, but better than seeing reeling disgust and bone-deep fear written in the other man's face. Better than have him turf him out into the still-falling rain.

Never mind that, not so long before, he'd been the one telling Cain to keep away.

The younger man's hand catches around the bird-bone of his wrist, and he goes easy to the scattering of cushions and blankets, sinks down into them without having to be told. Draws his knees up, arms slung over them, chin dropping down to the crook of his elbow. His one visible eye a bright glitter in the dim light.]

Amazing views, eh? Of the sea...I can taste the salt in the air from here. It's...well. Every port is different, of course, but I've been to so many that they all have a feel of home about them. Even here.

[His voice, still slightly slurred, turns wistful at the end.]

[lovebiter]

[ Cain sank to sit, back and shoulders aching... and saw Julian hadn't listened. He rolled his eyes, slid his hands up Julian's arms to his shoulders. Rubbed slowly. ]

I said take it off. You don't do it, I will. You think I wanna cuddle close in the middle of the night and then feel something cold and wet?

[ He tugged Julian toward himself, leaning slowly, pulling the older man to lay with him. ]

[rowdyraven]

[Julian goes down easy, without a whisper of complaint. He's drunk, and he's tired, and he hasn't eaten in days, lacks the energy to keep trying to fend off the other man's affection. He finds he wants it suddenly-- to lie down, and to rest, perhaps even to have the feel of someone's arms around him. Selfish thoughts, he thinks. But he's just weary enough, in this moment, to allow himself to be selfish.

He's saving up the last of his stubborn non-compliance for something else, it seems--]

Rather something cold and wet than the reality of what's underneath it. Trust me, it's...well, there's a reason I wear this patch. I, that is...I don't want to alarm anyone. Spread panic.

[lovebiter]

[ Cain's dark, muscled legs coiled around Julian's waist, and he heaved to one side, rolling himself above the older man. ]

There's nothin' you could fucking have under that which could panic me, sugar. I've been a thug and a thief and a whore and a soldier.

I want to see you.

So give me what I want. Give it to me like a gift. Something special. A few seconds of honesty, instead of making a liar out of yourself. You'd told me you would be good for me.

[rowdyraven]

[Cain's legs wrap hard around his narrow waist and abruptly, his world spins. It takes a moment for the dizziness to settle, for his vision to right itself again, and then he finds himself looking up into the other man's face, the words sinking into him like stones. Subtly, he frowns.]

I did say that, didn't I.

[He thinks he did, somewhere along the way, even if the details are already hazy now. And this world, whatever this place is-- it isn't his. It isn't Vesuvia, and whilst they have their own horror here, it seems, it isn't the one he knows. He sighs, long and low, lifts long, pale fingers to his face.]

Alright. If you're really so insistent. Just...don't be alarmed. I'm not contagious, anymore.

[And he lifts the patch away, at last, the eye beneath it squinting against the low light. Clearly functioning, then, the perfect twin to the one beside it, except the sclera is a diseased and bloodied red.]

[lovebiter]

[ Julian, this guy has seen scaled people and wolfwomen and insect fae in the last week, so of course there's no real reaction except for a curious kind of interest, before he leaned in and stole a kiss, drew his tongue lightly along the cut over Julian's lips. ]

Doesn't that feel better?

Thank you for bein' so good for me. Now let me show you how fuckin' happy that makes me, give it to you as rough as you want, make sure you can't think another thought until morning, sleep nice and deep and dreamless.

[rowdyraven]

[It's...a strange feeling, to get next to no reaction at all. Reminds him all the more sharply of how far from home he is, that this place-- it's a whole other world, different and alien to the one he knows. He gives himself up to the kiss, both eyes falling closed as he extends the hand holding the eyepatch, discards it to one side, away from the nest of blankets and pillows they're currently sprawled over.

Cain's words are bright, but Julian's thoughts-- they're dark-edged.]

Well, um. You're quite welcome. It's only that uh, where I'm from, it's kind of a big deal. The Red Plague, all the suffering it caused...

[But his words trail away. He realises it then, that they'll only sound empty to Cain. Meaningless.

Slowly, he tries for a smile.]

...never mind. But, look. You don't have to be so nice to me, you know. I hardly deserve it, do I?

[Even if the things he's promising sound immensely tempting, right now.]

[lovebiter]

[ Well that's a fucking ego crusher. Here he was, throwing himself at this guy who'd pretty much already left him once, and...

You know what? Whatever.

Fucking whatever. He didn't care anyway.

He rolled his eyes and flopped heavily to one side, pushing up on the cushions and pillows to be shoulder height with Julian. ]

Isn't it nice that it's not a big deal?

[ He pushed Julian's shoulder, rolled the bigger man to his side, wormed both arms around him. ]

That you can just... let all the shit weighing you down go?

[ He tucked his chin over Julian's head and sighed. ]

[rowdyraven]

[Perhaps one day Cain will realise he's dealing with an exceptionally intelligent man who continuously does exceptionally stupid things. That, and he's currently terribly drunk. But until that day arrives--

--Julian allows himself to be pushed and manhandled into position with only a soft-spoken 'oh', rolls over easy despite the perceived heaviness in him, the numb leaden sensation of his limbs. Shifts subtly to allow easier access for the other man's arms to slide around him. Presses himself flush against the warm weight of Cain's hard-muscled chest.]

It's never that easy, is it? To just...let go of things that have been weighing you down for years. But I suppose it's uh, that is, it's all a bit alarming, isn't it? All of this. Being trapped in some magical realm with no way to return home. All this stuff about witches and...and monsters...well. Rather the devil you know.

[Though his tone, it dips towards wry. He's not strictly sure he'd want to encounter the devil he knows, again.]

[lovebiter]

I... look.

[ His voice was soft. Serious. He slid his hands up Julian's chest, stroking. ]

I was in prison by the time I was nineteen. Got a serve-to-die contract with the military, and that's the only reason I'm not dead in some lightless fucking New Volgan cell. I want to let go.

This place is so fucking beautiful. I've never seen a sea, or... animals, or birds, or... a tree. Or magic. And I want it, I want everything here, want... a future? And... to matter?

To fucking matter.

[ He dragged his nails lightly along Julian's abdomen. ]

Tell me what you want to let go of.

[rowdyraven]

[Cain's voice goes quiet, serious-soft, and there's a weight to it that sinks down past his alcoholic haze, down into some central part of himself that leaves him vaguely aching. There's the momentary compulsion in him to twist around in the other man's arms, to face him, to look him in the eye. To try and offer...something. Because an existence like that, without all the simple things one takes for granted, yet which make it just that little bit brighter-- it's a difficult thing to comprehend, let alone imagine.

There's a twist of guilt in him, suddenly. For his own desperate desire to get back to Vesuvia, the possibilities that have so recently opened up for him, there. Guilty, for trying to push the other man away.

But he doesn't turn. Only leans back a little further against the solid warmth of him, a heat which is beginning to sink down into his own cold, numbed skin. Won't offer empty platitudes. Tries to do him the courtesy of offering an honest answer, instead.]

During the height of the Red Plague, the one that ah, the one that marked my eye, a lot of people died. Thousands, actually. People were dying so swiftly and in such numbers that they often lay there in the streets for days before they were taken away. And I...well, I know now there was little more that I could have done besides what I was doing, but it still didn't feel like enough. And...some of the things that went on at the palace in the name of finding a cure, even if those people were already dying...it was wrong. And I should have done more to stop it, instead of just making idle protests that ultimately went ignored. I still stood by while...

[But he cuts himself off.]

There's a lot, that I'd like to let go of. But I'm not sure that I should. I suppose I paid for it but uh...that, too, doesn't feel like enough.

[Things he may never have said, were he not quite so drunk, and if the night didn't feel so deep and close around them, suddenly, in the wake of Cain's serious voice. Things he might come to regret in the light of day. But for the moment, here they are.]

[lovebiter]

[ As Julian spoke, the image of Anna sharpened in Cain's mind. It felt like a punch to the gut, and his abdomen tightened. He curled a little around the pain at his core, and tightened his arms around Julian's middle. One breath, only one, was a little shallow. ]

... that... feeling? That feeling, that you should have done more, should have... done something, found a way. Survivor's guilt.

[ His fingers shifted, drawing back up over Julian's bare body. Half-tentative. He kept his voice soft, but even so it rustled Julian's hair a little. ]

You want me to tell you what I do?

[rowdyraven]

[Survivor's guilt. He's not sure what to think of that. Not when a significant part of him still believes - quite utterly - that he carries the weight of blame on his shoulders. For at least part of what happened during the plague, and myriad other times, besides. His list of sins - he thinks - is a long one.

But he feels it there, that one shallow breath, the tightening of the other man's arms around his waist and so he only frowns, says nothing of it. Asks the appropriate question instead, as Cain's fingers move with a new uncertainty over his bare skin.]

Go on. What do you do?

[lovebiter]

Use it.

[ He whispered it against Julian's ear while his fingertips massaged slowly up his chest, pressed Julian back against his chest. ]

It's not your place to judge who should go and who should stay, that's not fuckin' on your shoulders. You do everything you can, and then you do more, and it... fucking sucks, to be the one left alive, and to always wish it had been you, instead. To know... they'd all be better off.

But you can't let their memory be an anchor. What does that say about you? About how you think of them? If they could stand in front of you and hear everything you've done in their memory, how would they feel?

Use it. Be better. Be the best. At something, anything. Push yourself, like nobody else can or will. Don't let it be a fucking anchor, let it be your... standard, the flag you pin in every success you chalk up.

Do it for them.

[rowdyraven]

[He listens, quiet in the near-dark of that dilapidated bell tower. Stays quiet even as Cain finishes speaking, and for several long-stretching moments there's only the creaking of the old building around them, the soft patter of the rain against tiles and glass. Those soft sounds, and his own wide-open pain as he lets the words cut through to him, parring away the protective fuzz of the alcohol and leaving something momentarily clear in its place.

The trajectory of his guilt, it stretches back a long way. All the way back to the shipwreck, that most desperate and terrifying night of his childhood, and has only grown and spiralled ever since. Has left a lot of people in his wake who he could push himself for, be better for, instead of turning inward, weaponising his own fears, turning that weapon upon himself.

But living that way, it isn't something he knows how to do.

Eventually, the silence he's let build between them-- it breaks.]

Hah. Well. It sounds to me as though you're a stronger man than I.

[Cain has witnessed first hand, after all, one of his favoured 'coping' mechanisms, tonight.]

[lovebiter]

My sisters always said I was dumber than a pile of bricks, so I think that might be a more likely culprit.

[ He reached and dragged a blanket over them with an unnecessarily dramatic flutter. It was soft, if a little musty. And he leaned down, nipped the slope of Julian's shoulder. ]

But look. You took off that eyepatch. It's a forward step.