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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[the finished poisons, the ones in neat, pretty bottles waiting for new homes, are where he ends up gravitating. the jars of ingredients each catch his attention and let go, but those ones hold.

they're also conveniently nearby. he doesn't even have to stand, just pushing himself up onto his knees to bring them to eye-level while he picks through them. it has been a long time since he's handled poisons that weren't made by his own mouth, so he's actually genuinely excited to get his hands on them.

one by one, Tonic's creations are lovingly inspected until Tek is either interrupted or he reaches the end of the shelf.]

[Tonic, despite being the type to maintain a very precise collection, seems perfectly at-home letting Tek wander through his things. he'd be watching anyone else like a hawk, but he knows that his guest has an understanding (and probably a level of respect) for the tinctures and toxins he's going through. he trusts him not to do anything stupid--or if he does, it'll be for show, and the other man will go out of his way to direct his attention to it anyway.

plus, he deeply appreciates the moment of silence for himself, where he can work quickly and precisely and not have to worry about keeping another person entertained in the process. the step of cleaning out the metal plates, rivets, and pistons is no less important than anything else to do with his leg, even if it is less interesting.

now that Tek is close, these bottles are definitely filled with poisons. something that may get passing interest is the way they're labeled--not with letters, but each with a series of three numbers, separated by commas. "12, 15, 2nd". "6, 23, 8th". the bottles seem to be grouped with others that share their first number, though the number groups themselves are not necessarily in order on the shelves, and not all numbers in the range are present. within the groups, the bottles are further sorted by their second number, and then finally arranged from there by the third.

it looks cryptic at first, but touching the bottles will confirm what he'd probably begun to suss out--these bottles are arranged first by their purpose, and then by their contents, and then by the degree of potency. there are straightforward poisons in one group, some liquids, some powders, ranging from thin, nausea-inducing drops to a small vial of something so potent that it could kill a large man before they even realized they were dying. another category seems to contain poisons that could be passed off as an accident--chemicals not meant for human consumption, spices infused with deadly ingredients, pellets of powders that would dissolve instantly in liquids. another substantial category goes to non-lethal mixtures, some of which are so mild that they can barely be considered a poison, and some of which would cause such extensive damage to the mind and body that it would honestly be kinder to kill them.

Tek can also find a small collection of acids, ranging from slow abrasives to something that could probably burn through the stone floor in minutes. humorously, it looks like the edge of the shelf here has been partly eaten and pock-marked by a spill of something a long time ago.

it won't take him long to stumble into the anti-poisons, as well. they're next to, but clearly separated from, the numerous antidotes he's stocked on his shelf, feeling bottles of small, hungry voids compared to everything else here. there aren't many variations, but they do range from mild to moderate in potency.]

Edited 2018-12-31 19:28 (UTC)

[he's a patron at a small, extremely specific art gallery, and he treats it as such. he's exploring the collection entirely for his own appreciation, not so much thinking about the attention of his host anymore.

the masterful methods of delivery, the color and viscosity of the liquids, even the bottles themselves--he happily takes note of all of it. the most lethal and hideous of the toxins are his favorites, of course, but he spends just as much time with the potent antipoisons. he probably has a smile of disgust on his face while he rolls those bottles between his hands.]

[with Tek taking the time to properly appreciate the range of work on display, Tonic has enough time to clean out his equipment, set the pieces aside, and put the rest of his dirty tools in a tub to be properly dealt with when there aren't far more interesting things in the room.

when he returns his attention to Tek, he finds him rolling a bottle he recognizes between his hands... and it's familiar, because he thinks the man had a very similar look on his face when he was showed a vial of antipoison that first time, last week.

he starts arranging the cushions underneath him, making a small show of getting comfy--though he doesn't take his eyes off of Tek while he does it.]

You're really interested in those, aren't you?

I am. [and he takes a moment to consider something, but ultimately sets the thought down again, along with the bottle on the shelf. his friend is done with his chores and ready to be comfortable, so he won't just go and dump another one of those big, strange surprises on him when he's not expecting it.] But, it's because of one of those answers that you actually need to want first.

[with the bottle replaced alongside with the others, he moves back to the table and pushes a few of the cushions over to be closer to his host.]

Mm, no.

[muttered as he absently begins rolling back the sleeve of his bad arm; at first it seems like he's saying he doesn't want those kinds of answers, but he's actually looking at the cushions that Tek is pushing around, the way he's starting to arrange himself, and knows with distinct clarity that it isn't really what he's interested in.]

Come here. [he gestures Tek closer with a wave of his perfectly-painted fingers, pausing with his sleeve half-crumpled to grab the side of the small table and shove it very deliberately to the side, out of their way, in a single motion.

it's a quick thing, before he's back to reclining, stretching his legs (well, leg and a quarter) out and returning to his sleeve.]

[he had assumed that Tonic was referring to his answer, so he's visibly surprised when the table is shoved away instead.

it's not an unwelcome move, though. it takes him a beat, but as soon as he catches up, he's smiling and graciously altering his destination as he goes to settle down. he'll sidle up however it seems that Tonic wants him to be.]

[Tonic quickly pulls his sleeve up the rest of the way over his elbow. this exposes the thin bands of metal and wires plugged into the crook of his arm, likely the main reason he'd gotten the restricting fabric out of the way... but it also reveals old scars, both the incidental and the purposeful.

but from the way he holds both of those arms out as soon as he can, he seems to want Tek to come sidle in very close. he sidles back, getting them even closer, in case there was any doubt that this is what he wants.

yet, through all of it, he seems a little preoccupied. working again despite himself, it would seem.]

You know, there's a saying in my line of work... [he says this as they're really getting comfortable.] That what you don't know will kill you, but what you do know will get you killed.

[there are still gears turning; Tonic is still talking. so, at first, Tek slithers alongside him with enough room left to speak and watch his face in. physical contact and all of the nice things that go along with it are wonderful, but he's curious, and that tops everything. he wants to see where this line of thought goes. it's not so different from a much closer and more comfortable version of their nest from the week before.

he's close enough to really feel the fabric of his friend's dress. he can smell the herbs and smoke. while he considers his statement, he takes the chance to look at his scars up close--his arms and his face--as if they will tell him something about it. after a minute, he smirks wide.]

So, either way, you're dead.

[now that his bad leg has been cracked open, cleaned, and cared for, he is feeling much better about the idea of any sort of physical contact between them. it's actually very comfortable, being lighter, not having abrasive metals digging into his skin. even his arm feels better, now that his sleeve isn't smashing all of those delicate wires and plates down underneath it.

he likes Tek a lot. he likes the rapport they've built, he likes the way that Tek looks him over as he thinks, and he likes that the man has any interest in him when he certainly doesn't have to. having him here makes it harder to remember the sharp edges of his own calculations, and Tek's very astute comment makes him laugh.]

That's the thing, isn't it? I know so many things, I don't need more to trouble me...

[he drapes his misshapen arm around Tek's waist, looking into those strange, nearly-glowing eyes of his. it doesn't feel real, having him back here, but that's all the more reason to sink into him before he disappears for good.]

But here you are-- [he smiles again, letting his head plop back against a cushion.] --Welcoming me to ask, over and over again.

[he doesn't want to verbally point out that he wouldn't keep welcoming if Tonic didn't (more often than not) keep asking. it doesn't need to be said, and who knows if saying it out loud will be the thing to tip the scales and cause some small sort of retreat. he wouldn't risk it for the world, right now.

instead, he smiles and follows Tonic's face with his own, just a bit--taking advantage of him resting his head back to get a little closer.]

Like I'd said before. I wanted someone who would keep playing with me.

[Tonic loves the way those words sound, coming from Tek. it's hard to tell if his expression is more a smirk or a smile, or if the difference really matters, when he's fixed in on the other's face with a look of such blatant adoration.

it's the same way he stares at him when he gets to admire his without his shirt on, as if it wasn't just a strong attraction, but a deep gratitude that such a beautiful piece of art could exist in the world. Tek can feel Tonic's fingers grabbing gently at the fabric of his shirt, playing idly while he gazes at him with those mismatched eyes.

he wants to keep playing. he never has anyone fun to play with.]

I could dig in pretty far, you know...

[he doesn't intend it as a boast, or even a promise, but a warning. he doesn't think Tek is ignorant of how much he is capable of, but he may not be fully conscious of the potential swaths of destruction that could follow for the both of them, should Tonic learn too much.

he wants to ask, he wants to know, but he doesn't want it to come at the cost of these wonderful moments between them. he asks, just to be sure that this is really what the other wants.]

Aren't you worried?

[the fact that it is a warning and not something else is probably the fuel behind why Tek's smile grows the way it does. it's nearly a grin, with how the sharp points of his teeth show.]

I probably should be.

[and he really does sound like he agrees. he doesn't actually doubt the trouble that he's risking. he also doesn't seem quite as excited about it as someone who was actually hoping for it would be. he's something different from either.]

But, I suppose that I'm not afraid of the same things that most people are.

[this answer is both strangely reassuring and highly informative, delivered with a smile that pulls the man's attention back down to the sharp little points of the other's teeth. they've always been something of a bother to him because they imply a lot of things he does not want to have to think about--but right now, he finds himself caring very little about that and more about what they would feel like on the scarred-up side of his neck.]

I am... [he admits it without quite having thought through it, which gets him to laugh again, quietly and mostly at himself.] Though I hardly think that's much of a secret, is it?

[Tek laughs low, because--yeah--he has maybe noticed that one a little bit.]

Would it help if I told you that I'm not intending anything bad to happen to you?

Mm...

[he weighs this one for a moment, giving it consideration, fingers still idly playing at Tek's side. eventually, with his mind occupied, the rest of him is driven by impulse, and his impulse is to slither in closer; he moves so that he can feel more of the other against his body, encouraging him to to the same with a gentle nudge against the small of his back.

their faces are so close that they practically touch, and he finds it much easier to look down at his friend's neck and collar, framed elegantly in one of his shirts.

he sounds pleased, despite his small concern:]

It would, though I might find it a little hard to believe.

[Tek likes this proximity. he's got a good voice for it--low and clear and soft around the edges--so, conversing is sill comfortable even with how close he is to the other's face.

when he shifts closer, running a hand down the shapes of Tonic's side until it rests indulgently on the remains of his thigh, he makes sure to do so before he answers. he wants his meaning to land without weight and pressure that he doesn't mean to imply. he's trying to remain as nice as possible while still being honest.]

Well, you'll probably be able to believe that I am known to be possessive of things that I like. And it stands to reason that I would take great exception to anything happening to those things... so, does it make sense that I would want to keep them safe?

[the combination of everything, his voice, his hand, this tone, his reassurance... what few reservations Tonic may have still had are banished somewhere else, to another place and time when there won't be someone unbelievably attractive in front of him, with a hand on his thigh, all but promising him pleasure and safety and a very, very good time.

whatever answer he could have prepared is bowled over by a soft groan--maybe in agreement, but mostly a mindless expression of want as he ducks his head and shifts again, encouraging Tek to keep touching him but mostly wanting to feel friction below the waist.

he's done talking now. he's good.]

[so, he'll take that as a yes.

and the fact that it is a yes, affirming that he has successfully talked his way past the guard of such a careful, self-serving person, is a pleasant rush of ego. he's quite proud of himself when Tonic doesn't answer with words. he has proven himself to be arrogant and dangerous and covetous, but he's pulled in anyway. it's everything he could want.

he responds in kind, slinking closer to press his body against the other man's, the hand on his thigh hugging him closer--but he can only get so far when he follows his automatic impulse to go for the throat. he hums low, leers in along his jawline as he gets close... but hovers right where there are big, thorny, fabulous earrings blocking his way to Tonic's neck.]

[they are a bit like barbed wire around his neck--something that Tonic forgets until one of them is crushed between his face and a pillow and causes a very uncomfortable sensation. he laughs in surprise, just as Tek is blocked from what is otherwise a very welcome advance.]

Oh, sorry babe...

[the good half of his face looks a little apologetic (but mostly amused) as he picks his head up, working quickly to pull apart his earrings and free up the space for much more comfortable things. like Tek's mouth.]

[Tek laughs too, and grins in that way that says that he finds it pretty hilarious that after all of Tonic's thorough disassembling and prepwork, he forgets something as basic as this. it also maybe says that he's scheming something up.

it's nothing mean, though. it's only the mildest of punishments.

while Tonic is steadying himself to navigate his unwieldy earrings, Tek helpfully divides his attention. he doesn't retreat in order give him a ton of room to work, still sort of looming near his face. and while he does, the hand on Tonic's thigh lifts away... to go sliding tight between the two of them instead.]

[he has a feeling that something is about to happen, when Tek continues looming near his face instead of taking a moment to pause. however, his foolish guess was that Tek was waiting for the first opening shot at his neck. he is very surprised when a hand slides towards his dick instead.

with a startled laugh, he pulls out his first earring and tries not to sound too happy about the sudden development; he makes a genuine effort to take his second pair out quickly.]

Sorry, am I not going fast enough for you?

[he sticks out his tongue at Tek, piercing and all--though his own impatient squirming betrays the idea that this could ever be a legitimate complaint.]

[ah, and Tonic finally makes the mistake of teasing Tek with that face while he's close enough to actually do something about it. the low laugh in his throat is nearly a purr, and he doesn't give much more warning than that before he leans into the other man's mouth with a hungry kiss.

meanwhile, his hips begin to move with his hand against Tonic, doubling-down on the distraction. he has firmly decided that he is going to make this as hard as possible on him.]

[if nothing else, his sounds are priceless--at first a small yelp of surprise, which turns into helpless, stifled laughter against this hungry kiss, which can't help but melt into more hungry groaning against the other's firm advances.

he does try, honestly, to get that other earring off, but after a moment of confused fumbling he realizes one of his hands has just forgotten what they were doing and is winding itself into gratefully into Tek's hair. so maybe he'll have to take out the other one later. or maybe it'll just fall out somewhere, fuck if he knows--but if they're going to play this game, he's going to drag his fingernails over the other's scalp and neck for the trouble.]

[the retaliation is very effective. the drag of nails doesn't slow down the motion of his hand, but a low groan does croon out of him, betraying exactly how much he likes it. his touch can't help but turn a little more indulgent and lingering over it.

and when nails actually pull down across his neck, he falls away from the kiss as he leans into them. the sound it draws out of him is a low, terribly grateful rumble in open air, but he's quick to burrow again into the other man's neck--the side without the earring hanging in the way.

if Tonic keeps doting on his scalp and neck like that, he'll have a moment of peace while Tek just breathes and hums against the side of his throat, expressing just how happy he is with the constant, slow roll of his hands and hips.]

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