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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Them being different is apparently news to Vincent, who perks up in surprise when Irahl agrees so bluntly and easily. Then again, Vincent's entire method of relating to other people is to find the ways they're similar and lean on those as hard as he can. He has a hard time understanding how to be when he can't connect to someone else.

"My..." He reflexively lifts his hand to touch the closed lid of one of his eyes as attention is drawn to them. Ruefully, he says, "That's just me bein' an idiot..."

It wasn't a choice. At least, not so much that Vincent really equates it with self-sacrifice. But he's very biased, in that regard.

"So, you regret it?"

Vincent isn't the only one around here capable of asking blunt questions in potentially poor taste. And Irahl hadn't consciously intended to pivot this discussion around to be aimed squarely at Vincent's face, but he kind of treats conversations the same way he hunts, once he gets going.

Just going to take care of this matter with direct and surgical precision, and then they can go on to talk about whatever else.

He prefers the blunt question to the earlier attempted niceties, but damn. He can't see Irahl's expression but he can almost imagine the look he must be getting pinned down with right now.

"I..."

Does he regret it...? He regrets that it happened. Anyone would. But when he thinks about that family and how scared they were, he knows he'd do it again. He keeps doing it over and over, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

"...No, I guess not."

"Then, it was you being an idiot--" No one would argue that fact, don't worry. "--but it wasn't a mistake."

The only reason there's a pause then, as Irahl rearranges a little where he's sitting to at least pretend to be relaxing like a normal person who is considering sleep, is to mercifully put a little distance between the opening sentence and the conclusion of his point. He has at least that much sympathy for his friend.

"I wouldn't have put myself on the line for them. So, I have my sacrifices and you have yours."

Simple as that.

Inexplicably, Vincent starts laughing. It's a chuckle that goes on just a little too long (probably made worse by the fact that he's still laying on his stomach). He just can't believe the way this conversation has suddenly turned.

"How the fuck did you do that, man?" He holds his head with his free hand, "You make it sound so fuckin' simple..."

There they suddenly are, with something Vincent can relate to. Irahl tied it all together for him in a way he can understand. He still has hang-ups about the guy's life mission and all that it may or may not entail, but at least this gives him a handhold to keep him spinning wildly off into what-ifs and anxieties.

Vincent's incredulity earns a small scoff from Irahl... which is followed by another one a delayed moment later, ending up more related to a chuckle. He's used to being around people who have no handle on their own life's-direction and place in the world, but they're never so endearing about it.

"That's because it is simple. You shouldn't be in the military, and I shouldn't babysit."

If Vincent needs one more entertaining way to close up this point of existential confusion, Irahl has given him this gift. The next time Vincent is feeling down about his own skillset, maybe he'll be able to hang onto the viscerally-terrible mental image of Irahl being responsible for the care of children.

It's a strange sort of encouragement, but Vincent is hungry for it. It's a lot easier to believe it coming from someone else than it is to even conjure the feeling up for himself. He settles back down on both of his arms, looking considerably more relieved with things than he did a moment ago.

"All right, then I guess... All this to say, I can't imagine livin' like that, but it ain't 'cause I think it's a bad thing. It's just... Way outside my wheelhouse."

There's one of those familiar, wordless sounds that acknowledge Vincent's statement, but it is then followed by a silence full of all the things that Irahl chooses not to say.

He doesn't share that it's the only way that he knows how to be, and he can't imagine Vincent's way of life either. He has never been a civilian, and he can't fathom caring about a stranger enough to seriously put himself at risk on their behalf. He doesn't bring up any of the things that had come to mind when Vincent had first started asking about his vendetta. And he doesn't go into how much he admires Vincent for being able to do the sorts of things that he can't.

So, there's a stretch of nothing but insect calls and singing frogs for a minute, before Irahl finally checks in again.

"Anything else you wanted to know?"

Likewise, Vincent doesn't bring up the heavy things that still weigh on his heart, or how he can't fathom caring about anything so much that it supersedes the lives of people right in front of him. He often wishes he could just do what Irahl seems to do and shut off, tune out. Not be followed around by the ghosts of people he barely met. He doesn't necessarily want to care about people. He just does.

But he's finally beginning to settle on the fact that if Irahl wants to talk to someone about his vendetta, he can talk to his brother. It'll probably be good for both of them to have someone else to relate to, honestly. He knows that for all of his sibling's successes, he doesn't necessarily feel any less isolated than Vincent does.

"...Yeah, I still got a couple questions. If you ain't sick of 'em."

Assuming Irahl agrees to it, Vincent might surprise him by going right back to a tricky topic from earlier. One he certainly hasn't forgotten about.

"You never said what happens to you when all the other monsters are gone."

The silence that follows is pretty telling.

Whether due to simple hesitance or to Irahl needing time to work his way through his own thoughts, (or both,) the frogs and bugs are once more allowed to fill the empty space for a minute.

He hadn't really expected Vincent to still have questions, let alone circle back to one he'd already answered. Other people don't generally pick at the things he says. It takes him too long to come up with a reply, and when he does, it's not much of an elaboration.

After all of his heavy thinking, he recycles an old answer that had been given to him, once upon a time.

"...That's a long way off."

Vincent is a patient conversationalist. Like always, he gives Irahl all the time he needs to answer, especially since he knows what he just asked was kind of mean and just a little bit spiteful, even if he does genuinely want to know the answer.

And the eventual response comes as a bit of a relief. With how certain the guy had sounded about his group and their mission, he'd half-expected Irahl to be just as certain and confident in his own demise. He wouldn't have judged him for it, but hearing any shred of uncertainty is a welcome alternative.

"S'fair," He answers easily. And for a few moments, it seems like that might be all he has to say on the subject, until he belatedly adds, "An' I think Seth's pretty forgivin' about that kinda thing. Even if he acts like a hardass..."

That leads him to his other question, which he asks with far less pointedness.

"An' then I guess... The other thing I wanted to know, now that I get where you're comin' from... What'd you think of him?" And as if there could be any confusion, "My brother."

This is a question he is much more sure of answering, and it comes with little hesitation.

"He's a good man." For as easily as he says it, it's not an opinion that he holds very often. And it's followed by another that is just as rare. "Seems like a good leader."

Vincent probably doesn't need to be told how eager Irahl is to work for someone like that, with everything he has said in his less-disciplined moments about his bosses and coworkers. Only his order of Slayers has been spoken of with any real respect.

Vincent is happy to hear it. For as much as he gives Seth a hard time, and despite whatever spiteful grudges they hold towards one another... At the end of the day, he loves his brother, and he wants other people to love him too.

He wouldn't call Irahl's response "love", exactly, but it's certainly a glowing review compared to the guy's usual opinion of people.

"Good. Glad to hear it."

There's another silence as he thinks, but ultimately decides that he's pretty satisfied with how this has gone.

"Think I'm done grillin' ya for now. Appreciate you bein' so patient-like."

Irahl is happy that Vincent has found whatever he'd been looking for, and he's even happier to not be asked another question. Vincent is the person who he minds talking with the least, but it's still an effort to verbally navigate anything more complicated than the idiocy they lob back and forth while drinking.

This seems like a good place to let things settle, and he's sure the forest would love to get back to its own songs uninterrupted.

But he can't let Vincent get away that easily.

"--Your turn. Excited to swim tomorrow?"

Vincent's pleasant smile is immediately replaced with a frown. For a split-second, he looks an awful lot like his brother. Good thing they sound almost nothing alike once they start talking.

"This is 'cause I made you go back to that other question, ain't it?"

He's not going to give Irahl much time to answer (since he doesn't actually want to revisit the subject). His frown turns into something closer to pouting against his arm.

"M'real nervous 'bout swimmin' tomorrow. You two are gonna drown me an' leave me as a snack for a giant turtle or somethin'."

Irahl had expected a reluctant response, but this level of sullen petulance catches him off guard. It's as though he watches the giant man turn into a sulky toddler right before his eyes, and he can't help but laugh.

The chuckling is still a quiet sound in the grand scheme of things, but it stands out against the more naturalistic backdrop. Wouldn't it be funny if that sound reaches Robin across the water.

"No fun if you ruin the surprise ahead of time."

If the sound reaches him, Robin will be shocked to hear Vincent getting Irahl to laugh--and not in that begrudging, muted sort of way that Robin occasionally managed. He'll be appalled that it happened without him, for sure. Assuming he hears it. Which he may not. Who can say for sure?

Meanwhile, Vincent is glad to know his reaction is funny to Irahl, because it's coming from such a real place that he doesn't feel he really had a choice in the matter. And he's not about to lighten up with a response like that.

"I knew it. This was all a complicated trap an' you're a terrible person."

Letting him have a nice time only to murder him in a lake, how dare you. He moves on to give an answer that's slightly more honest, but he keeps delivering it in the same flat, dead-inside tone.

"Listen, I ain't never been coordinated in water. Seth took all that for himself, the selfish bastard."

Well, calling Irahl a terrible person is certainly not the way to stop him from laughing. He gets a few more chuckles in, turning a little darker once Vincent points out his malicious streak.

As much fun as it would be to continue torturing Vincent with visions of drowning, it would be almost too easy. Getting him to lighten up about swimming after having tortured him is where the real challenge is.

"There are plenty of uncoordinated things just fine in the water. Like turtles... or clams..."

"You callin' me a fuckin' clam, bro?"

He says it with such threatening immediacy that he almost manages to keep a straight face for more than a few seconds afterwards. It's impossible, though. He cracks and makes himself laugh before he tries very hard to go back to looking deadly-serious.

Call his extremely transparent bluff, he dares you.

Naturally, Irahl is much better at keeping a straight face--at least in the fact that he's no longer chuckling. He's still smiling to himself though.

"Noble creatures."

Yeah, he's calling Vincent a clam, and maybe other unflattering objects as well as he continues.

"All you have to do is float. Even logs can do that."

See, that's pretty funny, but Vincent can't think of a decent comeback fast enough to keep the joke going. As seconds pass with no retort, he realizes he either has to give up (unacceptable) or so something to heighten the joke so far that Irahl is forced to crack.

So after a moment of almost-stony-faced silence, he slowly pushes himself out of his bedroll and reaches over... To try and casually put his friend in a headlock.

"Where's your neck, you smarmy piece of shit..."

He's doing this all comically slowly, Irahl has plenty of warning in case he hates this--but if allowed, he'll absolutely bodily bully him over and shove him into the ground if he can get away with it.

Ah, the chuckling has returned, and it's the dark kind as Vincent threatens to wring his neck.

The danger is rolling slowly in the dragon's direction, but he has been settled so boneless and comfortable up against this tree, it seems like a shame to move. Maybe it's a continuation of the good mood that this forest lake has put him in, but letting Vincent get close enough to try and bowl him over doesn't seem like the worst thing in the world right now.

He keeps people at arm's length to ensure the integrity of his defensive walls, and he hasn't been caring so much about those out here. So, Vincent can slow-motion-tackle him over as he continues to laugh, as long as he's willing to deal with Irahl's long arms reaching out for his neck as well.

Of course, it wouldn't be a fair slow-motion fight if his opponent wasn't defending himself! It's somewhere in this lazily-shoving knot of boys trying to low-key strangle each other that Vincent starts laughing pretty joyously at how idiotic this is - which is frankly too much levity for Robin to not come over to investigate.

To be fair, he'd been on his way earlier on account of the noise, just to make sure his friends weren't being kidnapped by forest folk or something. He makes the sounds of his approach pretty easy to hear, but he still pops into view at the edge of the tent a little suddenly in the darkness.

"...Okay, what's happening in here."

By the time that the two of them suddenly have an audience, Irahl is on his back in the dirt, with one hand braced against Vincent's collarbone and the other gripped around one of the wrists reaching down for him. And he seems entirely unbothered by both the giant man happily trying to strangle him and the fact that Robin has arrived.

He has gotten to wrestle both of his friends today--how lucky can one maniac be? Though, this murder-attempt is much lazier than the one in the lake had been.

"Your partner is trying to kill me," he casually replies.

Vincent also casually responds from where he's leaning his bodyweight into a guy to keep him pinned to the ground, "Yeah, he called me a log."

He's got a hand on Irahl's throat, but he's not pushing that hard. They're just playing, after all. Robin sighs at all of this, both incredulous that this is happening and disappointed he wasn't invited.

"You boys can kill each other in the morning," he says, "I thought you were asleep."

"I guess," Vincent says, more to the first point than the second. The playful smirk doesn't fully go away as he eases up off of his friend about as slowly as he'd started bullying him to begin with.

Edited 2024-08-30 03:10 (UTC)

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