psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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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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While Vincent puts his extremely endearing thoughts together, Irahl isn't lying there completely still and just gazing at the sunset colors. He's busying with wringing his hair out over the other side of the rock. He doesn't exactly have a towel, so his hair is going to take a thousand years to dry, as well as make an even bigger puddle over the top of this boulder than he's already making. It would be disappointing to have Vincent's train of thought interrupted by frigid water soaking into his back.

Which is why Robin's interjection is extra annoying.

"I know." Short and idly matter-of-fact. The retort is meant for the both of them, and he's hoping Vincent will still continue on his original train of thought despite the interruption. "Sound is better over the lake."

Okay, having caused any amount of retaliatory frustration gives Robin the strength he needs to finally pick his sorry ass up and not just succumb to hypothermia on the edge of a lake. It's going to be a warm night, but right now he's starting to shiver from, you know, being half-drowned in a lake.

He'll wordlessly trudge over to their rock, snatch up his pile of clothes, and start heading back to where everyone had left their stuff some ways from the shore.

Vincent had been worried about the swimming thing earlier... But if it's not a problem, then he doesn't get distracted by it for long. He smiles a little at the simple joy of being outside.

"Yeah, it was... kinda overwhelmin' back in the thick of it, but it hasn't been as bad out here. Maybe it's 'cause the water's so flat? Or maybe it's the open space, I dunno..."

He'll turn his head to point his face in Irahl's direction, lacing his fingers back together behind his head.

"How's the water? You two work it out?"

Irahl had turned his head to watch Robin slogging away from shore, once he's sure that he won't catch the look, but Vincent 'looking' over pulls his attention back immediately.

He's in a good mood, so it's easy for Vincent's questions to strike him as funny. There's a sound that might have turned into a chuckle if he hadn't been feeling so lazy after all the swimming and wrestling.

"For all the laughing he does, can't take a joke, can he?"

It's okay that Irahl's feeling too lazy to laugh. Vincent will laugh for both of them.

"Y'aint wrong. Guy's touchy."

He's pretty familiar with Robin's various contradictions. Key among them being how mad he gets when he gets into trouble even though he asked for that trouble in the first place. But they don't need to linger on the subject of Robin (who has decided to get dressed and start setting up camp in begrudging silence), since Vincent had only wanted to get a clue about how his two friends are getting along, and that more-or-less answered it.

Besides, he's got a better question. Back to the lake.

"So what's it look like down there? Under the water."

Keeping one ear on what Robin's up to, he can hear him getting dressed and messing around with the supplies they'd brought. It reminds him of the fact that he himself is just lying around out in the open with hardly anything on at all, and he hadn't thought about this fact until just now. The pang it sends through him is a little jarring, but Vincent's question is enough to distract from it.

He takes a slow, easy breath in and out as he considers it. For someone whose normal rate of respiration is akin to that of a snake, it's notable.

"Deepest lake I've ever seen. The one I grew up around was half this size."

Having wrung out his braid as much as possible without getting his hair hopelessly tangled, he finally settles down.

"Looking forward to seeing it in brighter light. Water's real clear. Lot of rocks, tall plants. Might be other stuff sunk down there."

Lucky for Irahl, the guy right next to him can't see and the guy who'd be interesting in looking is too salty to sneak a peek. Vincent doesn't really catch the discomfort since he's busy thinking about what the bottom of a lake must look like.

He had no idea this one was big. They all seem pretty big to him.

"Man... What color is it?" Vincent really does sound a little like he's reverted to a twelve-year-old mentality, "Under the lake? 'Cause the lakes downstairs are mostly just dark, from what I remember. Even if you bring a little light down there."

The line of questions is only becoming more endearing, and this is one of the rare times that Irahl finds himself wishing he was better with words. It's the sort of thing that he'd normally have a strict cutoff on how much energy he's going to put into explaining, but it's not like Vincent can go and find out and figure it out himself. Robin is probably the only other easily available person he could ask, and Irahl isn't going to leave the job to that guy.

So, he hesitates for a moment, and then gives it his best shot.

"Kind of blue. Probably was greener earlier in the season. A little cloudy. Bet it'll be crystal clear in the spring though.

"Cool."

Although that's all he can really think to say on the subject, the answer makes him smile. Maybe what he's imagining is totally wrong, but it makes the idea of wading in tomorrow morning a little less awful.

And he's very content saying nothing for a little while and just... Savoring the moment. There's silence as the forest begins to grow truly dark. Tiny wisps of light begin to dance in the tall grass as a number of fireflies wake up for their nightly show. Vincent can't see them, but he seems just fine listening to the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs nearby.

Eventually, though, a cool night breeze reminds him that the bottom of his pants are soaked. He shivers suddenly, then grabs blindly around for his coat.

"Guess it'd be dumb if I caught a cold," he explains, though it's something Irahl probably doesn't have to worry about. As if on cue, Robin uses a little magic to start a proper fire some way from the shore.

Edited 2024-08-21 01:37 (UTC)

Normally, the nicest views that Irahl gets to appreciate is being up high enough in some gutted building to be able to see the sun setting through the smog, and those instances have been few and far between, lately. Add in all of the other exceptional things about the day, and this has quickly become a very singular moment for him.

Spotting the fireflies--something that he hasn't experienced for decades--even prompts a strange and rising urge to speak. He doesn't know what he'd say, but it feels like he should say something.

Maybe he should thank Vincent for playing along with his lake-oriented wishes. He also kind of feels like commenting on the surreality of everything. He wonders how silly it would be to describe the fireflies to Vincent. Something in him also feels like it needs to tell Vincent how glad he is to have somehow found him again, or maybe just thank him like he'd already thanked his brother.

In the end, right about when he feels like he's on the verge of putting any words together, a fire starts up in his vicinity.

He isn't even looking in the direction, but he can feel the flicker of the little flame against the invisible things he's made out of, and he shivers like Vincent does.

He's moving now. Murmuring some useless sound of acknowledgement in Vincent's direction as he sits up, he hunches up his shoulders and finally starts reassembling himself as well.

Vincent sits up, stretches a little. Shrugs his coat back on. And then he pauses oddly for a moment, thinking of the logistics of getting off of the rock, before he just gives up and asks, "Mind helpin' me to shore?"

He's feeling a little more confident about wading through the water now, but he still doesn't want to do something stupid like accidentally step in some muddy sinkhole or... Onto some kind of a lake-crab. He can wait patiently until Irahl is ready.

Back on solid, dry ground, Robin's got a couple simple tents up and a fire going. He's working on making food happen over a metal rack. It's nothing fancy, but it'll keep Vincent from perishing in the night. More importantly, it will keep Vincent from being grumpy because he hasn't had anything to eat.

Some part of Irahl's mind at least has the awareness to realize that the other guys probably wouldn't have let him live it down if they'd been able to see how he immediately steps over to kindly guide Vincent around the worst of the rocks, like some sort of gentleman.

Once Vincent is safely ashore and has been reunited with his shoes, Irahl gathers the rest of his own things--he's carrying his boots and coat instead of stopping to wiggle into them now--and leads the way to their new camp.

He only goes as far as needed to guide Vincent there, though. After pausing to drop his things next to whatever tent happens to be farthest from the fire, he kind of... continues to stand around at that distance. He at least doesn't appear to be particularly invested in the fire or any other element of the camp, one way or another, as he glances around. Probably only looking for the valuable belongings he'd dropped in the grass earlier, and not mentally distancing himself from the setup here.

Hey, there are a lot of guys who would look down on Vincent for needing the help, but that doesn't mean anything out here. He appreciates it as always, very glad that he doesn't have to navigate the way back alone.

Vincent actually risks keeping his shoes off, since the grass here is pretty soft and the ground is relatively flat and free of dangers. He's having all kinds of experiences today, and he doesn't really want to stop just because it's time to have dinner. Vincent finds a spot to settle near Robin, already grateful for the fire.

"Damn, I haven't been around a campfire in... Fuckin' years." He realizes aloud, sticking his wet feet out a little closer to the source of heat. "Thanks for settin' up."

Robin smirks a little, though he's paying more attention to Irahl than Vincent when he answers.

"Been a while, huh? There's tents too, and some blankets. I'd feel pretty bad if I you died of hypothermia."

"Hypo-what...?" Vincent asks, looking confused. Robin doesn't answer. Robin has been trying to figure out why Irahl is hovering at the edge of the camp like that, because now that Vincent is here he would have thought he'd at least cave and join for a little while.

But it finally dawns on him. "That's right... You have a fire thing, don't you?"

It's... Not exactly a flattering thing to ask, but he isn't as specific as he could have been. And at least Robin looks like this is a fact he'd literally forgotten until just now.

This time, it isn't entirely Robin's fault that Irahl has clammed up. Even when Robin had been Irahl's only source of comfort in captivity, the change had always been just as abrupt. One little flame is all it takes for the walls to slam into place and for the longsuffering dragon to suddenly become easy to irritate.

Instead of answering the question--or even blinking--he asks, "Where's my stuff?"

And he doesn't wait for an answer. It'd been more of a statement of intent than anything else, as he walks around the back of the tent to look for his gear bag himself.

When he finds it, he begins to busy around. He puts all of his gear and shed articles of clothing in one spot together, he crouches down to rifle through his bag, and otherwise starts to fall into the routine he follows when out with the rest of the unit. The other guys have all quickly learned that Irahl just doesn't make himself part of the group most of the time.

Robin does at least point Irahl in the right direction. He'd put all of their gear in the same area the other side of the tents. Regardless of the ire he'd shown Irahl earlier, he at least had enough respect to not throw everything in a pile or put it somewhere inconvenient.

"...Yeah, you're welcome..." Robin mumbles to himself. Vincent hears it, of course, but says nothing. And then some food is put in front of him by Robin, and that's sufficiently distracting from his wondering about Irahl's disposition to make him drop it altogether.

Robin and Vincent chat a little while Vincent eats. Robin also eats, but it's more to feel involved than anything. Vincent asks a little about the forest at night, but Robin assures him that nothing's going to come near here while he's around. And he won't go running off in the dead of night, so Vincent has nothing to worry about.

Vincent laughs, "You know it don't fill me with confidence when you gotta go outta your way to say it."

Robin sighs, though it's almost a laugh. "Yeah, I know..."

They won't be all that long. And once they're done, Robin'll let the fire die down for a little bit before putting it out completely. The forest may be on his side, but the trees don't really appreciate a source of open flame near them either.

Their meal lasts long enough for Irahl to do an inventory of all of his gear, (which he would be doing even if he hadn't left pieces of armor and other accessories all over the place,) and have a short little wander of the vicinity around camp. He'd heard Robin's comment about his presence being enough to keep anything from bothering them, but he just wouldn't be himself if he'd sat back and accepted that statement at face value. It's also just part of his routine. Normally, he's the guy in the group who is primarily tasked with keeping the group safe in the forest.

Having a small moment to himself out here also just helps him settle. He hasn't quite gotten to align himself to this particular wilderness outside of his swim in the lake, so he he takes the opportunity to try and do so now while the other two are occupied and he doesn't have corrupting armor between himself and the trees. It has been so long, he almost worries that he'll have forgotten how. It comes back like breathing, though.

Eventually, the natural space feels more comfortable and familiar around him, and he returns to become part of camp again. It just so happens to be around the same time as the fire dying out.

Neither of these men have any reason to stop him, so Irahl is free to wander the area and acquaint himself with the forest. It's a very wild space, but the energy here feels less aggressive than what surrounded the noisy saplings close to town. Everything is receptive to Irahl now that his armor isn't obscuring his being from them. The lake and all the flora surrounding it are especially comfortable with his presence here.

When he returns to camp, Vincent will speak up from where he's still sitting near the remains of their campfire, craning his head to show he's asking Irahl.

"Hey, camping guy. What comes next?"

Embers are much more tolerable than flames, so Irahl almost enters camp like a normal person would. He takes a seat that's still a little further from the remains of the fire than the other two are, but he at least takes his place as an actual member of the group.

"According to camping with the unit? Get attacked by harpies."

He says it entirely casual and matter-of-fact, so of course it's a joke.

"Then drink. Gamble. Throw someone's shoe in the lake so the sniper has to go get it."

There's so much in those two sentences to react to.

Robin, for his part, looks briefly like he's trying to remember if he even knows what a harpy is. They don't have those here, so it must be one of the many bizarre creatures that inhabit Nor. That's all thrown out the window when he hears about this apparent shoe-throwing ritual (and he can't quite tell if Irahl is still joking or not), and he's momentarily fully consumed with the impulse to incite chaos and give it a try.

Vincent reaches over and grips Robin's shoulder with the instinctual impulse of someone telling a dog not to bark. Just grabs on so that he can't run off and do something stupid.

"Well, then, good news... Sounds like the first thing ain't a problem an' the last thing ain't gonna happen if everyone here wants to keep their arms."

Vincent shakes his friend, which Robin limply accepts. He'll be good.

"But I did bring a card deck," Vincent points out. He doesn't know if his two friends are interested, so he waits to judge their response.

Robin suddenly laughs, finding this funny, "I'll pass. I've already been trounced once today."

Edited (wow I accidentally hit reply WAY too early) 2024-08-21 18:41 (UTC)

Robin has eyeballs, so he can see the flicker of a smirk on Irahl's face when Vincent reaches over to weigh him down before he can fly away. He can also see the odd way that Irahl's face lights up a little when Vincent mentions the cards. It's like the look of suddenly recalling a good memory, but Irahl doesn't have any of those, so that can't be it.

"A real one? ...Must have cried tears of joy to get back home to that."

It's funny, for as chatty as Robin was in the dragon's underground, he gets quiet whenever Vincent and Irahl are interacting. Maybe he's less inclined to bother when he has to share the stage... Though it's just as likely that he keeps getting distracted by the spectacle of Irahl interacting amicably with someone. All that to say, he says nothing and just watches the two of them instead.

Vincent, on the other hand, has a good chuckle at Irahl's comment.

"Oh, you know it. I coulda kissed the fuckin' things."

He reaches over to give Irahl one of his signature friendly pats on the back.

"I mean, no offense to anyone's handwork, but I gotta say... Game's a lot smoother when you don't gotta peel your cards off one another."

It must be a trick of the now-nearly-nonexistent light, but there's a shift around Irahl's features that seems dangerously close to becoming a small smile.

"Bet they're all the same size too. Boring."

Robin continues to watch Irahl being inexplicably unguarded and it only further cements what the demigod feels is pretty obvious... Irahl has a huge crush on Vincent, and it's disgusting. And a little horrifying.

But his comment gets Vincent to laugh. He shifts and goes to rifle through one of his massive pockets, which contain whatever shit he grabbed from the apartment before they left.

"Shuffled in seconds. I dunno what I'm gonna do with all this free time..."

He pulls out a deck of cards wrapped in a ribbon of paper (yes, he'd brought them just in case of a situation just like this). The deck seems a little thick... Though it's nothing compared to what they were working with up in space-jail.

"Here, even if we don't play, I wanted to show you what I was talkin' about..."

He leans in, a little excited to have found something else that he'd swore to when both of them were being held against their will, and holds up some cards for Irahl to take. They've got the usual symbols on them, but each card has a front and back sheet stuck together. The front has nice, evenly-spaced, uniform holes punched in them, while the backs are nice and smooth and make these look like normal playing cards.

Irahl--oblivious to both how much scrutiny he's receiving from across the campfire and to how obvious his crush is--reaches over to accepts the cards being offered out to him.

This time, there's a definite hint of a smile as he feels over the cards... but it fades pretty quickly. He takes a few more seconds to feel over the punched surfaces, just to make doubly-sure that his disappointment is justified, before he finally comments.

"Can't read them anymore."

Robin continues to watch, amazed that neither of them have bothered to check on him. He isn't sure if he really wants to keep watching this bizarrely open interaction of theirs, but he's so morbidly fascinated that he doesn't want to risk looking away, either.

"...Huh?" It takes Vincent a few seconds to realize what Irahl is talking about. It's been a while since he's had to think about that kind of thing. But when he does get it, he sounds a little disappointed. "Oh, 'cause the thing is gone."

He knows he doesn't have to say it. They all know what "the thing" is.

But that shouldn't be cause for disappointment. Vincent bounces back pretty quickly as he realizes something else about the predicament, and he taps the fronts of the cards Irahl is holding.

"Then I guess you're finally gonna learn the normal way, huh? No more cheating."

His answer to both the comment about cheating and the prospect of homework is to audibly scoff, acting indignant even though he absolutely will begin learning Vincent's dot language as soon as they're not all trekking through the forest anymore.

Robin has been something other than the center of attention for a whole two minutes, but he's still a tugging magnet that is impossible to truly ignore. So, as Irahl bumps the cards into Vincent's hand so he can take them back, he finally looks over at him.

"Know how to read these?" he asks, dragging Robin into the conversation.

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