Gratia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skeletoncity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
psychoshenanigans2024-07-15 05:36 pm
skeletoncity) wrote in psychoshenanigans2024-07-15 05:36 pm
GRATIA // PSL
So, here's what Irahl knows.
He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.
There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.
Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.
Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.
Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.
This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.
His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.
"...Holy shit."
Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.
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By the time people begin to put up a concerted effort into sealing him into this tomb, burying him alive, his self-control is being held together with his final, fraying nerves. He hasn't snapped, hasn't outright killed anyone yet, (the ones he'd elbowed over railings on his way up are probably fine,) and hasn't even drawn his weapons. So far, he has been relying on the menacing visuals of being armed and generally made of pure malice to get him where he wants to go.
However, just as he finds himself faced with another potential dead-end, looking up and wondering if a gravity-defying sculpture would continue to defy gravity with his weight climbing on it, something drops out of the sky and snaps that last, tenuous nerve.
Irahl hadn't been wearing his visor when he'd found himself first attaining consciousness here, and he hadn't stopped moving long enough to allow himself to think, let alone check to see if he's carrying a missing piece of equipment. So, Robin has a pretty clear view of Irahl's eyes over the mask covering the rest of his face as he recoils back, and then freezes in surprise.
The staring lasts as long as it takes for Irahl to successfully place the face. Only a couple of seconds. Hearing the voice helps.
That's when Irahl finally draws a weapon.
He falls back half a step, ready to move, with his side-arm swinging out from under his cloak in the same moment. It is very generous of him not to immediately try putting a magic-devouring bullet between Robin's eyes, but it doesn't look like he's planning on hesitating more than a moment or two. It might just be an automatic pause to see which direction his target will feint before he pulls the trigger.
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Robin is pretty sure that Vincent took a quick trip to the Drift Fleet. They haven't talked about it much, it didn't sound quite how he remembers, and Robin hasn't explained much more than the very basics to commiserate with his friend when the guy woke up in a fucking delirious panic one morning. But it did happen and Robin has secretly been rattled about it ever since.
But that had been three months ago. Today, he and Vincent had been in the police department, begrudgingly filling out paperwork related to a certain incident involving him and a foreign dignitary being publicly indecent in the Archive. He didn't want to go. Vincent made him. He needs his license back. Anyway, he was about to give a statement when they overheard one of the officers telling their coworker that there's trouble moving from the Forth Level to the Third--some seven-foot-tall guy with a big gun throwing Guards around, trying to leave the lower levels in a real hurry.
Of course everyone nearby looked at Vincent, since he's the notoriously seven-foot-tall guy in town, but Vincent stood up in a hurry and booked it out of the room. After a long pause and a quick apology to the administrator, Robin hustled out after him, tried to ask him what's going on. Vincent just told him to "run ahead and catch him" and "don't let him leave 'til I get there".
He said it with such insistence that Robin couldn't not move with an instilled sense of urgency towards something he didn't even understand. He'd kind of been expecting to find Seth here, honestly, because that at least made sense. But this?
There's... Nothing. There's just... Nothing, no clever quips, no bewildered questions, no paranoid calculations. His brain just stops working as he stares into the eyes of someone he was foolishly sure he would never see again. Especially not here. Especially not now.
He doesn't move. He doesn't back up, doesn't crouch, doesn't raise his hands in surrender. He just stares as the other man draws a side-arm on him.
What the fuck is happening to this City? Is this a dream? Did he fucking die or something?
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They make a plan. Vincent and Irahl will head up to the Second Level, avoiding the most public parts of the main chamber just in case the Guard are still keeping an eye out for Irahl. Robin, meanwhile, will conveniently avoid having to interact with Seth by heading to the Police-Guard Headquarters to finally get his paperwork back in order. While he's there, he can gauge if anyone caught on that Robin and Irahl were travelling together yesterday, or if the previous day's events are being treated as anything other than a very weird public disturbance.
When they're all done, they'll meet back up at Vincent's place, and then they'll... Maybe go upstairs. Or maybe they'll get lunch, Vincent was kind of adamant about lunch. But they're probably, most likely, eventually still going upstairs at some point. Later.
They head out under the dim morning light of the emergency egress lighting. The streets are nice and quiet, since most folks are still waking up at this hour. Eventually, Robin goes one way, Irahl and Vincent go another, and Vincent takes him on yet another climb up to a higher level of the city.
Vincent will explain some of what he knows while they're on their way. Seth likes to stay in a hotel on the Second Level, because everything on the First Level kind of annoys him. Works out well for them, since they'll be able to avoid the Guard issue of the First Level entirely. Once they arrive, they'll just go up to his suite and probably talk to his assistant, and then Seth will probably ask to speak to Irahl privately, because "havin' me around is embarrasin' and he can't be all cool an' serious-like when I'm talkin' about some time I pranked his ass, or whatever."
But Vincent feels pretty confident that his brother will at least be willing to help Irahl out somehow. The night before seemed to go pretty well, all things considered. He warns Irahl that Seth may seem like he's pressing him for information or trying to maneuver into some agreement, but also assures him that he'll back off if given a firm refusal. He can be pushy, but he's never sneaky about it.
Thankfully, Irahl only needs to figure out two things: how to legally own his equipment in the eyes of the Priesthood, and a way to imply to other people why he's new in town. Once he's got those, no more negotiation, agreements, or talking is necessary.
Irahl will finally get to see the Second Level, as a wide hallway opens up onto a open-air stone platform suspended in a miles-high, miles-wide cavern. The lights came back on as they were travelling, so Irahl gets a good view of the spiderweb of paths connecting a chamber even bigger than the one housing the Petrified City--and much cleaner, too. No rubble up here, only hand-carved bridges and buildings constructed from stone brick. Bright ceramic tiled awnings and murals painted on the sides of structures give it such a vibrant sense of life compared to the strange, hollowed-out shell of Vincent's neighborhood. Many miles below them, the tops of far-off market tents make the very bottom of the chamber look like an intricate patchwork quilt. It's also impossible to miss the dark stalactite of the Temple of the Priesthood, since it's a massive, suspended structure glittering with the distant light of a hundred candles.
Their destination is a hotel near the Archive. The Archive itself is a whole two-towered structure that Vincent will have to detail another day, though he does point out the ground-level Licensing Department where Irahl may have to one day get said licenses.
The hotel is a lovely building. Polished marble exterior, very elegant. Vincent leads them inside, where a very professional man behind a desk manages to only look a tiny bit worried about the two absurdly-tall men who've just ducked down into his establishment. When Vincent says they're there to see Seth, the man nods politely, asks no questions, and tells them the suite number.
And then they go, past a hallway's worth of hotel rooms and up a very polished set of stairs with a very polished bannister to find the very polished set of rooms Seth is staying in.
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He isn't shut down, though. On the contrary, he is quiet because of how much is going on in his head, which is a continuation of the torrent of thoughts that had begun the night before. With all of that going on, there isn't much to spare for words. Until a few more points of stability are finally secured in Irahl's life, Robin and Vincent are just going to have to deal with nods and wordless sounds, interspersed with one or two words at a time if he really can't get by otherwise.
Much of his mental landscape has been taken up with either committing the previous day to memory as 'something that did in fact honestly happen,' or preparing himself for the extremely important social interaction that he's about to throw himself into. Vincent's reassurances about how to deal with his brother in conversation are extremely helpful, but it's still a stressful prospect. Not only is the guy he's about to talk to an authority figure and probably considerably smarter than Irahl in many ways, but he also happens to be his friend's beloved twin brother. It's a lot.
To look like less of a frightening menace, Irahl had spent part of the morning dismantling and packing up his rifle, and hiding his cloak and armor in Vincent's apartment. He's now at his most presentable--which still means that he is a giant man in an intimidating coat, scarf covering half of his face, with a rifle-case-sized bag slung over one shoulder.
And this is the state that he finds himself in as he's approaching the door to the suite they're looking for, in a building much too fancy for him to be in. Regardless of whether Vincent has been talking at him or not, he somehow seems to get even quieter in here, where every scuff and rattle stands out in the expensive silence.
He doesn't even speak up when they reach their destination. Vincent will know which door is the right one because it's the one that Irahl stops walking in front of.
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Vincent does breathe a sigh of relief when they finally get out of where, but he doesn't say a whole lot on the way back. After that ordeal, he's pretty sure both of them are just looking forward to getting back and crashing for a while.
They take the long way again, not because they have to hide, but because it's a quieter route. Eventually, Irahl is led back through the Petrified City and up the street to Vincent's apartment. Up the ramp, down the hall, and in through the front door.
"...Fucking finally," says Robin, who is fully sprawled out on Vincent's couch. He puts down some newspaper he was reading to look over at the two giant men walking through the door, "What took you guys so long?"
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Some of those walls that he was getting ready to finally let down get picked right back up.
"Got a job."
He finally puts his stuff down. The sixty pounds of gear get dropped next to the couch, and the hefty envelope of documents get dropped on Robin's vulnerable stomach.
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Irahl can watch Vincent specifically avoid talking in detail about his meeting with Seth. Honestly, Irahl probably still knows more than Robin does at the end of it--as Vincent settles for saying that it's complicated and that they talked about a couple of things, and Robin mostly not picking at it even though he very obviously could.
And then they hit the tunnels of the First Level, which is a hotbed of gossip and people who look like they clearly have too much time and money on their hands. The tunnels are nice and uniform though, and Robin takes them the route he thinks will be less populated. People will be staring at them up here, but the damage is minimized as best as he can.
On the way up, they're stopped by security, but some quick talking and a flash of his newly-instated badge gets them out of that pickle in no time. Says he's taking these two up for something related to the Hunter's guild. The story checks out and they are free to go.
Just another set of stairs later and they're quite suddenly outside... And for all the glitz and glamour the First Level was practically throwing at them during their quick jaunt through the place, Irahl may be surprised to see that the area known as "Up-Top" is just a humble little town.
They won't be staying to see the sights for long, Robin keeps them moving towards a stone wall that circles the perimeter of the town, and the walk is relatively short. He has to talk to a couple more people to actually be let out through the large wooden door, but though these guards seem surprised to see a couple of guys as big as these two, their overall presence here does not seem that strange to them. Big scary guys go out into the woods all the time.
Vincent keeps shivering while he's in the town, whenever the wind blows. He looks a little uncomfortable being up here in general, but at some point he mumbles that he'll get used to it. He just hasn't been upstairs in a while.
And then they're through the double doors, out past the farmland being carefully-cultivated on the outskirts of town, and into the line of trees waiting just beyond.
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And when he finally blinks his way into daylight, his invisible wings unfurl with relief... but the rest of him is quickly left stunned.
Contrasting the way he'd traveled through the Underground with his shoulders hunched and gaze unfocused and dutifully lowered, he looks like a tourist with the way he seems to struggle with processing his surroundings.
He'd known that he wouldn't find his city upstairs, but he had at least expected a city. Looking up--not staring at the sky but at the lack of telltale shimmer that would have given away a magical shield around the settlement--he is not faring any better than Vincent. He might need even more prompting than his friend to keep moving and stop looking so obviously foreign.
It isn't until they're practically at the gates that he can stop focusing on the town and start narrowing his focus on the trees up ahead instead. At least those will be familiar. He'll wait until they reach that destination before he finally allows himself to feel like he has escaped his cage.
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Eventually, conversation in the camp winds down and Vincent goes to get comfortable under their makeshift tent in the hopes of falling asleep. Robin also winds down, though in a different way--he announces that he'd like to take advantage of the perfect night to take a "moody stroll" around the edge of the lake. He leaves the two other campers alone to be serenaded by the symphony of frogs, crickets, and the occasional nocturnal mammal shuffling through the underbrush.
It's not entirely surprising when, after a while, Vincent finally gives up and twists around in his bedroll to ask, "Hey... You awake?"
This is a phrase Irahl probably heard a dozen times during their stay on the Eclipse. It's not usually a bad thing, it just means Vincent's thinking about too much to feel like he can fall asleep.
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He even sounds pretty awake when he gives a grunt in the negative. Go ahead, buddy. He's listening.
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It can barely be called dawn when Irahl is out in the water again. His friends will know where he went by the pile of clothes left on the landing boulder, and he stays out there until morning has well and truly arrived.
He's in a good mood when he returns to shore for breakfast. Not only does he participate in the actual meal and what will surely become the tradition of breakfast-booze while camping, but he's more animated than either of them have typically seen. It's almost a normal-person amount of interaction and activity. Robin can tell that the constant, grating discomfort of Irahl's being has quieted down quite a bit.
The way that the dragon's aura is being refilled and straightened out might make putting his nullifying armor back on more unpleasant, but for now, he is as unbothered as he ever gets.
So, as soon as he guesses that they have waited for the day to warm up enough, (and he is the worst person to make that call,) he detaches from their morning lounging by pushing himself up to his feet so he can make an announcement.
"Time to feed the turtles."
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Robin seems calmer this morning, though whether it's because of his long walk, the dragon's settling aura, or because he actually got some sleep last night is anybody's guess. Before Vincent got up, he'd seemed content to sit on the shore and listen to the early-morning birds. After he finally roused his sleepier friend, he took to conversing amicably instead of looking like he was anxious to get somewhere else. He's very happy that Irahl took the initiative to go enjoy himself, since that's something he'd wanted for the man about as soon as he'd reentered his conscious thoughts--but he won't mention the thought out-loud.
Vincent is slow to wake up, but once he's conscious he spends a chunk of his morning wholesomely enjoying the feeling of grass and moss under his fingers. The breakfast drinking puts him in a great mood, very high-energy for him, and he regales Irahl with a couple of stories of dumb shit he and Robin have gotten up to. Like the job that started as an escort mission and ended with Vincent befriending a guy in the mob while they were both hiding from the swathe of destruction Robin was carving through the mob's headquarters.
When the announcement is made that it's time to go swimming, Vincent groans.
"Now?" He complains, "But it's so early..."
Robin nudges Vincent in the shoulder with a chuckle, "Early for you, maybe. Those turtles have been waiting all morning."
"Damn it, don't you get in on this too..." Vincent frowns and shoves Robin's hand away, but he does start the laborious process of getting to his feet.
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There are dozens of things he'd like to show Irahl before they go, whether those are sights he think he'd appreciate or spectacles that Irahl didn't believe him about when he tried to explain back on the Eclipse, but he sticks to things that are close to home and helpful to know for now. Doesn't want to burn out a guy who's not even settled enough to appreciate the finer sights and sounds of the city.
He shows him a few points of reference in the local neighborhood--a couple good spots to get food, that corner store, that sort of thing. He does finally make him try fried newts from his favorite roadside cart, which are buttery, salty, and flaky just as advertised. Like a croissant made of meat. He also shows him how bartering works, which for now is basically to say that Vincent'll owe them one. That'll work in this neighborhood, at least.
But there is one more thing he's got to show Irahl before they go. And it involves finding somewhere they can chop stuff up without anyone getting mad.
Vincent has at least explained where they're going to the best of his ability--from what he's heard, while some of that petrified city landed cleanly on the Third Level, a bunch of it landed less-cleanly on the Fourth. People considered those tunnels too dangerous to traverse for a long time, but the space was a convenient place to dump their trash, scraps from the ruins, and all the busted, unusable, or subsequently illegal tech that was just sitting around rotting anyway.
But eventually people got down there, for one reason or another. Vincent warns him that it can be dangerous--it's essentially a giant toxic landfill, and a magnet for people who are trying to avoid being found by the law for one reason or another--but he also openly admits it's not quite as bad as most people in the city will claim. The scrap rats, for instance, can actually be very helpful and welcoming. In their own ways. Some of them.
Which is why today... They're going to go meet Kneecap. The guy's open to getting them to a quiet spot in the Fourth Level where they can demolish things to their hearts' content, it's just that in exchange, he wants to check out Irahl and vet that he's... Well, Vincent's not actually sure what exactly it is Kneecap is vetting. Kneecap explained it, Vincent didn't really get it. But the worst the guy will do is say no, and then they'll turn around and leave and that'll be that.
Irahl's been told to bring his gear, but also warned not to bring anything he'd be upset about people touching without asking, because the folks down there aren't always great about asking permission before picking up... Literally anything.
Vincent takes him through a doorway plastered with posters from the department of safety and health, ignoring all of their warnings about toxicity and acidity to descend the stairs beyond. The steps are metal and a little uneven, warped with age and whatever tectonics have done to them, but they're sturdy enough that Vincent moves forward without any particular worry.
Kneecap has agreed to meet them at a halfway point, which is turns out is a dark and cavernous space containing the half-crumpled remains of a gasworks. Big vats and metal pipes stretch up towards the stalactite-covered ceiling, many of them warped like the stairs were. There are some signs that humans occasionally occupy the space, mainly a couch and some chairs that've been left on the open floor here. There seem to be a few trash piles that've gathered in corners like dust bunnies. But that's about it.
"...An' we just wait here, I guess." Vincent says, stretching and yawning, "Shouldn't be long..."
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He's wearing it again today--both because it just makes sense to him when considering where they're going and what they'll be doing, and because he needs to whittle himself down and reacclimate to his armor by the time they fly out.
Lugging his bag of gear around, he's almost entirely decked-out today. It had been a balancing act of deciding what precious things he didn't want to risk disappearing into a pile of scavengers, and what things were too precious to risk being plucked out of Vincent's unlocked house. Ultimately, he decided that he trusted his own watchful eyes more than he trusted no protection at all.
And now he's here. Upon hearing that it's time to wait, he finds a place to quietly lean against--playing off that he's doing so because he's waiting for something interesting to happen and not because his bones hurt.
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They have nothing to do, exactly. Not much work to wrap up. No one's chasing them, no one's obviously spying on them. Miraculously, no one has come knocking, not even Tek. But all three of them know that they're all just kind of waiting around for the next thing to happen, which does not start until tomorrow afternoon. They're just killing time.
Hanging out in Vincent's apartment is about the best they can all think to do; it's what Vincent and Robin would be doing if Irahl wasn't there anyway. Robin is lazing around on the couch, talking at Vincent about places to visit in the Capitol and Vincent is asking a few questions about what's still there... But in thinking about it, Vincent finally decides to bite the bullet and just go over and tell his landlady he'll be gone and give her the advance rent and hope she doesn't try to merc him again.
This is a joke Robin doesn't get, but the feeling is at least becoming more familiar. He isn't personally offended (as much) anymore. But Vincent heads out for a little bit, which leaves Robin and Irahl alone. Which is... Again, both a relief and a nightmare.
After a couple minutes of him pretending he isn't thinking about some very big and important things, Robin's words are heralded by a very quiet sigh.
"Hey, while we have a minute, I've..."
Oh, he trails off. He's usually says things with such confidence, even when they're stupid, that his hesitation stands out like a sore thumb. Robin is laying down on the couch, legs over one arm, realizing that just because he had a whole thing planned out in his head doesn't actually mean it's going to be easy to say.
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He's got an extensive tinkering project going at the moment in an effort to keep himself occupied, but it has nothing to do with the boredom he's experiencing. If anything, he would prefer things to be a little bit more on the boring side. As it currently stands, there have been too many people in too small of a space with too big of an ordeal looming just over the horizon. Even Vincent currently being out of the apartment doesn't quite afford him the psychological space he would love to have.
So, he's thoroughly absorbed in his project, which is retrofitting Vincent's archaic radio (the one with a fork sticking out of it) to be compatible with his music player's adapter. It's not a terribly complicated project for someone who knows their way around electronics, but he's working with foreign tools and technology. The added layer of difficulty is kind of nice, honestly. He can really focus in on what he's doing, comfortably surrounded by the tools and wires he'd picked up downstairs, and try to ignore reality for a little while.
The small clicking and clattering of him trying to unscrew something deep in the belly of the radio from an awkward angle fills the silence on the tail of Robin's partial sentence, to the point where it's believable that he's not paying attention. Maybe he hadn't even really realized he's being addressed.
Several seconds later though, once he successfully detaches the internal bracket that he has been messing with, there's a pointed pause in which he glances over the radio in Robin's direction.
The silence is Irahl's stand-in for a verbal prompt. He's waiting.
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It's strange, they're habits he fell into pretty easily on the Eclipse, but he's barely felt compelled to keep them up here in Skeleton City. Then, with Irahl staying here, he's suddenly started caring again--and while he's not embarrassed by the state of his apartment or anything, he feels a sense of responsibility towards his space that never manifests when he's on his own. He may even consider finally getting a lock installed when they get back, revolutionary stuff for him.
When Irahl finishes up his shower and reenters the world, there's now a simple backpack by Vincent's bedroom door alongside his sword case, which is itself being used as a coat rack for Vincent's massive coat--as if the guy would actually need a reminder to bring his beloved coat anywhere. Vincent himself is on the couch, and seems to be going through a very old pile of papers by touch.
"Hey man," Vincent greets him. Maybe it's the sense of responsibility towards their shared space that has him thinking about it, but it's on his mind to check in with his friend. "You doin' okay? Didn't want to ask while he was still in the room, but things seemed kinda tense when I walked in."
He is, of course, referring to the conversation Irahl and Robin had been having earlier.
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The question catches him and demands enough thought that he pauses before getting very far into the room, leaning right there against the wall and continuing to dry off his hair while he mulls it over.
There's the process of thinking over the question itself, but there's also the decision of whether or not to answer at all. That second bit should have been easy, but he finds himself hanging on it when no immediate deflection or sarcastic comment comes to mind.
It takes him a minute.
Finally, he answers with a simple, flat, "Yeah." It isn't much, and it might end right there, but it's already more than he'd intended to admit.
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And before they know it, they're airborne, and have nothing to do but sit back and wait for their long trip to be over.
The airship is divided into levels, with passengers on the top, a few amenities below, and cargo on the bottom. Passengers are relegated two the first two levels, though they are also welcome to go above deck. Vincent pops up a couple of times when the boredom gets bad, but it's generally too windy to do anything more than stretch his legs. He can't even appreciate the view.
Vincent prefers to stay inside, where they have climate control and moderately comfortable seats. There are thick windows along the walls, through which Irahl can watch the endless expanse of forest below pass steadily by below them, with only the occasional river or a distant mountain to break up the view. While the interior isn't exactly luxurious, Vincent will mention on several occasions that this is much nicer than the first ride he got out to the Capitol, of which he mostly remembers the bench seating and the B.O. of forty other nervous guys all crammed into the same room.
But here, they've got elbow room. Vincent's got his dumb knitting project (which goes terribly pretty much the entire time, which would be frustrating if the whole thing wasn't basically a joke on Robin), and he's got his deck of cards, and he's got plenty of time to teach Irahl how to read his braille. Sure, the sleeping arrangements are... Figuring out how to fit both of them in a tiny room, but they figure it out. Several months up in a cramped, half-junked spaceship has him feeling uniquely prepared for the challenge.
Suddenly, late on the third day, the ship crosses over some mountains. After about an hour of seeing rocky terrain below, the view drops out into wide, grassy meadow. Sometime that night, the grass is overtaken by desert, and the two of them wake up to the sight of sand dunes stretching out around them in every direction. Well, Irahl does--but Vincent asks for a description so that he can feel like he's participating.
Just like Vincent said, it's hot and dry. It's not as though the land is dead; it's teeming with life, much like the forest, but that life tends to stay low and quiet while the sun is up in the sky. There are rivers, but they run deep underneath the shifting sands like veins hidden deep underneath the skin. The plants here stretch and coil in alien ways, when they aren't flat-out covered in painful-looking spikes and needles. Strange stones peek out from the sides of shifting dunes and it takes a little while for Irahl to finally recognize them as the edges of buildings; they're just as ruined and crumpled as the remains he's seen down in Skeleton City, but these strange shells only reappear when the wind sees fit to dust them off.
On the fifth day, they come into view of the Capitol. If one were to describe it very simply, they would say that the Capitol looks like a city made up of tall glass-and-mirror-covered skyscrapers all clustered around one particularly large tower in the center... But that description immediately does the city disservice. There's so much going on in and around these structures. Dozens of other airships coming and going at various piers that jut out into the open air. Hundreds of platforms, covered walkways, painted plazas, public fountains, arranged in a gently-spiraling vertical sprawl. Long turquoise banners hang from the tallest towers, boldly displaying the golden symbol of the city for anyone arriving.
As their ship nears the dock, it passes the threshold of the city's border and view down becomes apparent as well--for however tall these buildings are, there are hundreds of feet of structures and platforms that stretch away into the depths of the earth below, as well. Who knows how far down they truly go, since the view is quickly blocked by platforms and greenhouse-looking structures that come between them and the drop.
They park at one of the higher platforms that Irahl can see. They're found and escorted once again by a member of the staff on the airship, who seem to be letting them and only a couple of other people off at this particular stop.
They step off the ship and down a short ramp to a wide, circular platform. There, the other two passengers head off in two different directions, one towards a set of descending stairs and one towards a suspended glass tunnel on the other side of the platform. The platform itself is only half-covered, to they get a full blast of hot desert air and afternoon sun when they arrive. Below them, the sounds of some sort of industrious construction project can be heard, periodically broken up by the sounds of music, or workers yelling at each other from across whatever space they're in. The whole space smells like sun-baked stone and, for some reason, fresh pastries. Some workers on their platform busy with unloading or loading cargo, but no one steps forward to give them further instruction.
Vincent starts peeling off his jacket almost as soon as he's sure he's not standing in someone's way. The heat is incredible. It's like standing in front of an open oven, except it's hitting all sides of the body at the same time.
"Phew, that's... That's the Capitol sun, all right..." But he offers Irahl a smile as he shoves a vaguely-folded-jacket under an arm, "Welcome to the desert, bud!"
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Sightless reading lessons, bad knitting, and late-night card games when they both get too bored and restless to sleep. That's what he'll remember.
He gets quieter the closer they get to their destination, between the ever-increasing stream of thoughts and memories that the trip is drumming up, and the fact that the desert turns out to be extremely unnerving to him, though he can't place why.
That last day, he pretty much doesn't say a word that isn't strictly necessary, all the way up until they reach their destination, disembark, and are standing around acclimating on the platform. Again, it's Vincent who draws him back to himself, reminding him that their roadtrip has officially ended, and that's when he finally breaks his silence.
"Hooray."
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Vincent is still deeply asleep when Irahl's alarm goes off. He manages to sit up after many confusing seconds, totally lost as to whether it's the middle of the night or the middle of the day, and why there's an annoying, high-pitched sound happening somewhere near Irahl. The guy seems to be stirring, but the sound grates on him for long enough that Vincent eventually just reaches over, pats at him until he finds his shoulder, and starts shaking him.
"Hey asshole," he says, groggily, "Your thing."
You know, the thing. It's happening. Goooo team.
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The other semi-unrelated piece bad news is that Irahl isn't used to sleeping next to someone. So, while his subconscious is stirring and wanting to kill whatever is making an irritating noise, something unknown attacks him from the side.
Vincent's hand gets clumsily swatted and then grabbed in a rough grip, and there's an extremely mumbled growl against some pillows.
Luckily, that alarm is the most annoying thing that can be found in either of their worlds, so it wins out after a moment and it drags awake the part of Irahl's brain that recognizes the sound. Then, all at once, he's moving. Letting go of Vincent's wrist, he lurches himself out of bed so that he's forced to either wake up or crumple to the floor.
After that, he's quick to autopilot himself through his meager morning routine, which mostly amounts to brushing his teeth, throwing his armor on, and running through a check of his gear.
By some miracle, with Vincent's valiant help, he's ready to head out more or less on time.
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At some point he opens the windows even wider, because the smell in here has shifted from new weird blood to old-and-drying weird blood, which is still intense but not nearly as appealing to his monstrous instincts. It's just kind of... Stale, but a lot.
When Irahl finally wakes up, two things will be obvious. The first is that he's very injured and definitely won't be making it out to breakfast today. The second is that despite how bad it feels, Seth did a good job of avoiding anything vital in the shoulder, and Finn did an even better job of stitching it all back together.
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Around hour number sixteen, Irahl stirs, but it's only to blearily attempt rolling over, growl in a half-asleep monster kind of way when that doesn't work, and then promptly pass back out for another hour. When he finally surfaces to consciousness the second time, he's much less crabby about it.
He does groan when he tries to move, but there's no growling. He even gets his eyes open. It's a real improvement.
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Another thing that happens during this time is breakfast. Irahl may not even remember saying it, but as soon as he's feeling good enough to be up and about, Vincent takes him up on his offer to go get food at the restaurant he'd apparently ducked into to hide from the cops the other day.
The restaurant itself is on the very corner of a nearby block of glass establishments, its many large windows framed with cheery green trim. Stripey blue and white awnings cover 'outdoor' seating filled with chatting couples and folks in business wear who've found an excuse to expense a late breakfast as part of a work meeting. The interior is just as grand, sunny, and filled with plants as the rest of the Capitol has been, and is likewise filled with people having brunch.
Vincent leads the way inside with the confidence of a man who can't see just how bizarre it is that they'd even consider going here--though he does at least walk with the hunch of someone very aware that everything around him is breakable. After a quick word with the host at the front, Vincent and Irahl are met by a short, oval-shaped, middle-aged woman with long braids and a look of surprise and delight on her face.
"Goodness, I didn't actually think I'd see you again!" she greets Vincent, going to shake his hand as if he was an old friend, "And who'd you bring this time? You aren't both trying to hide, are you?"
"No ma'am, strictly here for the menu," Vincent promises, smiling and handling the situation with the incredible charisma of someone who, again, does not fully grasp how out-of-place he looks here, "This is Irahl, he's visitin' the Capitol with me. He agreed to tag along this mornin', since I wouldn't shut up 'bout what a good host you were the other day."
The woman looks up at Irahl, impressed. About what, who could tell?
"Well, Irahl, I hope you've got room for plenty of breakfast--you've both come at the perfect time for our brunch menu. Follow me."
The two of them will be led to a nice large wraparound booth in the back. It's probably meant for a group of six people, but they're so big that it'll be cozy for two. It's also partly obscured by large, potted and flowering plants, which gives them an iota of privacy in what's otherwise a very open floormap.
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He never would have agreed to go if someone else had asked him, and he still might have refused if he'd known it was going to be like this. Unlike Vincent, he is excruciatingly aware just how out of place the two of them are, as well as how much danger he's in if he doesn't remain vigilant. He's also very aware of how close Vincent comes to bumping his head on a few planters as they navigate the space.
It hardly matters that his clothes are clean, hair freshly braided, and (most) weapons left at home with his armor. He looms into the restaurant like the monstrous outsider that he is. Normally, when forced to visit places like this, he hadn't cared about--and sometimes even reveled in--the way he clashed with the sensibilities of everything around him. Now, he both has to keep his secrets safe and avoid making this an unpleasant time for Vincent.
His attempts amount to trying not to glare at anyone directly, hiding his frown behind his scarf, and nodding curtly at the small woman speaking at him.
He's trying very hard.
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But the expedition was doomed from the start. They're both drunk, they're both very hesitant to let their nice day come to an end, and where one of them is blind, the other is more interested in setting off to drunkenly wander than getting back to base. What should have been a simple trip down an underground hallway turns into a meandering journey through the evening streets of the lower crust of the Capitol.
The opulent streets above are nice and all, but this subterranean mall-vault is definitely more Vincent's speed. He keeps asking Irahl to tell him what places look like, and keeps getting distracted by remembering spots he used to visit during his short time here and drunkenly rambling about them.
Eventually they make it up some stairs, but it doesn't take them to any familiar platforms. They're above sand-level and keep getting glimpses of it through the windows of whatever skyscraper they've gotten into, but the area looks more industrial than anywhere they'd been previously. They pass lots where small airships and large sand-vehicles are being repaired, interspersed with pawn shops, shady-looking law firms, and even an honest-to-the-gods "weapon shop". They probably stop in and make some cashier's life stressful before wandering back out onto the street.
At some point, Vincent realizes they're lost, but he doesn't really care... Currently, he's distracted with a line of reasoning that leads to him asking Irahl if he's got a favorite color.
"I think you said some shit about it before," he says, words ever-so-slightly slurred in a way that he doesn't notice, but would be obvious to anyone sober, "But I can't remember if you was jokin' when you said it..."
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As such, he's looking for other points of familiarity instead of looking for a way back home to their hotel. He knows very well that they're lost and he is well aware of the fact that he isn't helping. He'd expected and accepted that this would happen before they'd even reached the bar in the first place. The only reason he'd care about getting back to their room ever is that his rifle and gear is there. Otherwise, they could spend days out here for all he cares.
So, he's happily looking around, (keeping an eye open for anything that looks like a media hub,) occasionally bumping slightly into Vincent as he loses track of his legs a little, and engaging in the closest thing to idle chatter as he ever would.
"How could I choose," he says with flat, drunken sarcasm. "I love them all so much."
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