psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

The first thing he feels is the cold.

It permeates everything down here on the lower levels. What little warmth humans have made for themselves is greedily gobbled up by the stone walls that surround them on all sides. Despite the stirring of people in the streets, in their homes, and around corners, this place feels like a grave. A similar sense seems to loom over the heads of most who make their way through this deep, dark part of the world, hovering around them like a cloud of inevitability. No one has been outright sentenced to death, but they may as well be.

Upon waking, Tek will have found himself in a dark, wet alleyway. Attempts to orient himself reveal that he has been brought, somehow, to an impressively large network of tunnels that all lead, more or less, to three or four larger chambers. There is far more vibrant life above him somewhere, far, far above the layer of caves he's in now, and there is also a very deep, sluggish form of life somewhere far below his feet.

No one is coming to get him. No one follows him in his immediate vicinity--the few stragglers hanging around doorsteps and windows don't give him a second glance, or even a first one. The place is crowded, but not busy. Everyone keeps their heads down. The people are all dressed poorly, in rags and robes and bundles that suggest a certain level of consistent poverty all throughout the level. The buildings in these tunnels look man-made, either built from scrap or carved straight out of the rock of the cave, but the majority of the actual roads and cave walls seem to have been formed with very little help from human hands.

The place is lit with lanterns and dirty-looking florescents suspended high above in the cave ceiling. The air is thick and stuffy, the smell of mold and mud prevalent over even the smell of human stagnation. It would not be hard to drag someone off, and he gets the immediate feeling that if he did, it's unlikely that anyone would come looking for them.

What does he do?

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Oh, babe...

[he laughs a little, mostly at himself, for sounding as excited as he is. but dangerous or not, he's always looking for new things to tinker with. his favorite kind of friends are the ones that will get him rare things.]

Extremely interested. You're spoiling me.

[he laughs a little too, because that hideous excitement is surprising, but pretty charming.]

Well, don't mistake me for being too altruistic. I am trying to make friends with you, after all... and maybe it could help toward paying off whatever treasures you're going to make me.

Hah, well. I won't lie, my friendship can be bought.

[with the conversation again shifting to the topic of business, Tonic finally takes a moment to sit back up, pushing himself stiffly back up into a sitting position, and then getting up to his feet.]

And so can my coats, if the trade is fair.

[he holds out his hand to help Tek up, if he wants it.]

[he'll take his hand for politeness' sake, but he doesn't need the help.]

I'm revealing my hand rather blatantly here, but... I'll admit that I may need help knowing what would be considered fair in this case.

[please go easy on the new kid.]

[Tonic doesn't seem bothered, or even that surprised. he waves his bad hand (a clumsier motion than the good hand would have been able to manage) to show that it's no big deal.]

Not to worry, dear. I'm an honest salesman, the first time. Sometimes the second.

[the good side of his mouth crooks up into another smile.]

And if you don't get it by then, you have it coming. Now--talk to me about what you liked out of that chest.

[he actually crosses past Tek as he says this, moving towards the mattress area and the piles of half-finished clothing around it.]

[Tek just giggles. and slowly meanders after him while he thinks over the various pieces he'd seen so far.]

I like a clean, fitted profile--looking like I could move around quickly and not get caught on anything if I needed to.

[but why would a good, well-mannered rich kid ever need to do something like that, right?]

I am looking for something I don't already have, though. A new cut of something, maybe, or a unique embellishment... I loved the brocade, but I always go for brocade....

[he likes his fancy fabrics, what can he say?]

[while that first qualifier is a strangely specific request, Tonic isn't going to think twice about it. he doesn't ask questions when it comes to clothes, and he doesn't have to guess about why this particular customer would need to be as mobile as possible.]

So a simple silhouette, to start. Definitely fitted.

[he starts picking things up from around the bed--a couple of already half-finished coats, some swatches, a small box of something that rattles when he lifts it. the mattress is shoved under a low part of the tent, which has been reinforced with sheets of metal.

that's not interesting on its own. several of the walls in here are reinforced with metal. but none of them are seven layers thick, like this one is. there are also some necklaces and bits of beaded jewelry hooked onto this wall, but they aren't displayed as prominently and artfully as everything else. most of them look uncharacteristically simple.

whatever the case, Tonic has to crouch to get a couple other things before turning back towards Tek.]

The story of this coat will be in the details, I think. [then, cheerily:] Let's get your measurements.

[he's learned that he doesn't generally need to disguise his stares and glances around Tonic, so he doesn't bother hiding his idle curiosity over the other man's sleeping quarters. he goes right ahead and looks at the details that he can see from where he's at while his interest is caught, and just as easily looks away again when it's time to move on.

he obediently begins to remove his (currently modest) jacket when it comes time to take measurements.]

The fact that you even used the word "story" there already makes me very happy.

[Tonic definitely won't explain his sleeping arrangements if he doesn't have to, as it's the only thing in this tent that he could consider even remotely personal. he's much more interested in getting Tek over towards that mirror again.

he dumps his things on a nearby chair and drags something else out--a canvas stretched on a light frame that seems to have been coated with dark paint. with a piece of chalk, he starts writing down what is probably shorthand for a few standard measurements he'll have to take--and then, with that set up, the fun can begin.

his instinct here is to just maneuver Tek around as he needs to, lifting an arm or tapping a leg. this is because he wants his mouth free for more important chatter.]

May I ask another question, darling?

[even if he doesn't often get the chance to go in for specially tailored clothing, the combined instances over the course of centuries add up to a lot. so, man-handle all you want, he can take silent instruction without hesitation.]

It's either that, or we engage in small-talk to fill the silence. [gods forbid.]

[almost childishly, he sticks out his pierced tongue at the suggestion. he plays in small talk with customers all day. doing it here would be such a waste.

but still, he'd hoped to warn his friend of an incoming query... he wouldn't want him to feel that he's been unfairly surprised, after all. while holding a faded tape-measure along the width of his shoulders, he asks his question with a fairly even tone.]

Have you ever been poor?

Edited 2018-12-10 04:37 (UTC)

[his first reaction is the acknowledging sound that is a wordless stand-in for "good question." it's going to take him a moment to think that one over.

he needs to decide whether to stick to his cover story or speak more broadly, lie or tell the truth, offend his new companion or try to pick something as neutral as possible. he also needs to decide what the actual answer even is. with him being something that exists so far outside of the realm of normal human needs, it's not something that he has really considered. to even run it seriously through his mind, he needs to change the typical definition of the term before he applies it to himself.

it all results in him sounding just a touch more serious or detached than he has been in their conversations so far when he finally answers.]

Once. Though, it was only for a short period of time, when I was much younger.

[Tonic does not seem to mind the silence. it's a good, thinking silence, and it gives him plenty of time to pull together more measurements, and scribble his findings on his board.

the answer comes as he's taking his last measurement, waist-to-foot. the serious tone of it has him believing that Tek has dug into something honest and distant to find his answer--so he makes a thoughtful little sound, nodding a little. not very surprised.]

I don't know what made me think you might have been. [he pulls his tape-measure back to read the tiny, faded numbers.] It might have been how you eat. Had that one rattling around since last week.

[his laugh is quiet and has an honest sound to it. yeah, he has to admit that was a good catch. it doesn't take him more than a moment of thought to recognize what he's talking about. it might not be the exact sort of scenario that Tonic is probably envisioning, but Tek draws enough similarities in his head for it to count.]

Very observant. Yes, believe it or not, not all of the trouble I've been in has been of my own doing.

[this gets Tonic to chuckle while he stands, pulling himself up by the edge of a dresser.]

Well, I'll give you this... I've met a fair number of entitled, well-to-do people in my time, and the only ones I've found to be worth knowing are the ones who have ever something else. Trouble is what makes interesting people.

[moving around Tek, he picks up a long piece of black fabric solely to drape it over the the dragon's shoulder and see what the color looks like in the long mirror.]

That explains why I am very interesting, then.

[Tek smiles at them both in the mirror--very cocky about it, because he prides himself so very much in both how interesting he is, and the vast amounts of trouble he is capable of getting himself into.

...he's also giving the fabric a good look, of course. not all shades of black are created equal. there is a whole rainbow of black in existence, and it just takes one little warm shade in the wrong direction to look muddy against the absurdly cool hues of his skin and hair.]

Although, I think the key is probably more in the successful surviving of the trouble. Anyone can get themselves into trouble. It takes the special sorts to get themselves back out of it again.

Oh, well, of course. An important clarification.

[Tonic is momentarily caught on the color. it's a little too... purple, some underlying shade that does not flatter the pale complexion of his subject.]

Darling, I think I've seen corpses with more color than you...

[but he switches to something cooler, which immediately looks better, and then he picks up what is essentially half a jacket and holds that up towards Tek as well.]

But we've got options...

[he should probably look at least a little humbled by that comment, but he doesn't. not even his makeup is designed to make him look any more warm and mammalian than he is. he just loves looking like a reptile, and no alias and cover story is going to get in the way of that.]

And here I was hoping it would help me fit in with a city of people living in a cave.

[that gets a hearty laugh out of Tonic, which is somewhat unsettling to hear in its own right.]

That's right, you don't do that over there, do you.

[thankfully, this isn't the kind of question that asks for an answer. he puts the partial coat down, starting to layer several other colors over Tek's shoulder instead, just to see where it goes.]

Just make sure you go upstairs every once in a while. You'll get sick if you don't.

[this red was a terrible idea. why did he bother? he tosses the swatch away, trying some shredded grey fabric instead.]

[he's putting forth the effort and doing a very good job (so far) at not making a face when something unflattering is held up against him. he knows the whole thing is a process. he'll suffer the indignity in the name of art.]

Is that what you all do down here, take periodic trips upstairs, or is that only for us wilting surface types?

[he's sure he's probably heard the answer from Robin at some point in time, but he'd much rather hear Tonic's answer.]

[at least Tonic seems to be getting closer. all of the warm tones have been ruled out at this point, with a fairly favorable palette of cool blacks and grays left over. he had a couple of pieces of gold detailing pulled over just in case--but now he tosses those aside like they aren't even worth the bother.

though part of that might be his reaction to the question--which gets an audible scoff.]

Gods no. Not unless you've struck a very big deal.

[and his tone implicates that this is something very few people ever manage. he continues holding things up to Tek, moving onto trying out a few different kinds of buttons and baubles that he fishes out from that box he grabbed. it's a convenient outlet, though it's impossible for him to keep from looking annoyed.]

There are a lot of people down here who will never see the sun as long as they live.

[he at least leaves a few moments of pause while watching the annoyance on Tonic's face, before moving on to the question that is now dominating his curiosity. it's likely meant to give the other man a small break, but it could also be to let him stew first.]

...I feel like I should ask before you have pins in your hands, but--what about you?

[Tonic had asked if he'd ever been poor, so he feels like this is a fair question to counter it with.]

[Tonic makes sort of a hmph sound, being called out for his sudden temper... but he still thinks about it, and it takes him an extra few seconds to decide what he actually wants to say. after adjusting a couple of things, he finally answers.]

Just once. Before half my face got melted off.

[he frowns, though it only makes it through half of his face.]

I didn't like it much.

[this would probably be a good time to give his new friend and their fragile, new relationship a break... but he has to push his luck, just a little bit, while he has such a captive audience. he's counting on the fact that it's hard to just shrug out of a conversation and walk away when you're in the middle of half-dressing someone.]

...Was it the principle of the thing? Or, maybe it was just a little too bright for you?

[that is a problem, isn't it? while his guest has no choice but to entertain him for long as he keeps him pinned there (literally), Tonic can't exactly drift out of this inopportune conversation either. not without being rude about it.

and it isn't worth being rude; the subject is not dangerous, just unflattering. he lifts at the layers of fabric at Tek's front, clearly mulling over something... and at the end of his train of thought, he clenches his jaw, which makes an audible bone-popping sound on one side.]

Sweetheart, would you do me a favor and take your shirt off? I'm worried I'm going to cut through it on accident.

[he says this with such an easy, business-like cadence that it might even be true. he produces a small pair of scissors (a generous term; it is composed of two small, opposing blades set into a U-shaped piece of metal, which looks both dangerous and very, very sharp) to further his point. he gives Tek a little half-smile, perhaps to keep this from looking like some kind of threat.]

Then I can answer your question.

[okay, so maybe this is also a tiny, friendly ultimatum--but maybe he'll be more willing to discuss embarrassing details if Tek delivers without complaining.]

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