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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Oh, the fridge is fully stocked with easy-to-eat snacks. This could just be a complimentary service of the hotel, but Seth had also fully admitted to bringing in catering to keep his brother occupied in a different expensive hotel. This could easily be a move to try and keep Vincent from needing to leave this room.

The name sounds very familiar to Vincent. He has to search his memory to recall exactly why, but a moment later he smacks the top of the table with a sudden realization.

"--You're jokin'." He sounds incredulous and a little amazed, as if Irahl just gave him the name of a celebrity or something, "What'd they look like? Blond? Kinda tall?"

Ah, without the fear that Vincent might be out of treats if he grazes too heavily, Irahl more or less stands there with the fridge door open and picks at whatever he roughly estimates to be filling and easy to devour efficiently.

He had half-expected Vincent to recognize the name, but more in the way that he knows Jandru's name, and not... whatever this other dawning realization is.

"Yeah? Engineer type. Equipment specialist."

Once he said it, Vincent was already readying himself to be disappointed--since this is kind of a wild conclusion to jump to. There are probably plenty of people in the city named Nikaro. It's probably way more likely that this is a wild coincidence.

But then he hears 'engineer type' and pivots so hard in the other direction that he starts laughing.

"Oh, shit..." He runs his hand through his hair, equal parts amazed and... Kind of flabbergasted that his twin hadn't mentioned this to him at any point? "That son of a bitch... They're from our old unit. I thought they fuckin' died... Gods, right after I got kicked out?"

Vincent can't see the way that Irahl's eyebrows raise in surprise, but the sounds of fridge-rummaging pause as he glances over. There are a couple of different points of interest to Vincent's revelation, and none of them are things that Irahl could have guessed if he'd tried.

A few questions come to mind then, and he wonders if they might ever be answered or if it will remaining a curious mystery--because there's no way that he'll be the one to ask any of them. Maybe Vincent will corner his brother about it at some point and Irahl will hear the results by proxy.

Along with this, there's another thing that Irahl finds himself surprised by, and he has no idea why he hadn't considered the possibility before now. Vincent says 'our unit,' and Irahl realizes for the first time that Vincent and Seth could have both been in the military together.

A couple of things make way more sense in light of that as a big chunk of context suddenly falls into place.

Irahl finally finishes his scavenging and lets the poor fridge door close, grabs a glass of water at the sink, and heads back to his seat on the bed.

"Well, they were alive and took me smashing up their obstacle course very well."

Turns out everybody gets a revelation tonight. Vincent's hang-ups and deep shame around his miliary failings and his brother going off to do better than he ever did make a lot more sense in the context of them being in the same unit at the same time. They truly were inseparable, until they suddenly weren't.

"Fuck, man. Good for them. Wonder why he never told me..." He muses this aloud about his brother, shaking his head in lingering disbelief, " I mean--we weren't ride-or-die soulmates or nothin', but... I thought we were buds. Got along with my brother good, so I liked 'em."

Hey, now that Vincent knows Nikaro is alive, that brings the total number of people who can stand both twins at the same time up to two.

"They were always... Fuckin' weird though, so I dunno."

He doesn't seem too offended, just... Confused, really. He feels like he missed a step walking down a flight of stairs.

The original plan, following his usual routine, had been to set everything up to wake up in the morning, get ready for bed... and just go to bed. But with Vincent here and chatting, that routine gets a little interrupted. It's jarring, but the end result still ends up closer to their aimless and companionable habits on the ship. At first, he sits on the edge of the bed and goes to put his glass of water on the nightstand, before hesitating and rearranging to sit back against the headboard. He just kind of continues to hold onto his drink. The glass usually had alcohol in it, up in space, but otherwise the scene is pretty familiar.

This may be the first time in history that Irahl takes a (brief) break in the middle of work-mode to do something that seems suspiciously like relaxing.

"Weird how?"

This does feel familiar, doesn't it? Conversation going just a little bit too long, Vincent sitting in whatever chair he's landed in for the evening, telling stories... Both of them finally in a space where no one can hear them, just... Hanging out because it feels good to be in each other's company.

"Man, they were... It's kinda hard to describe, but..."

Vincent does feel like he's missing having some kind of beverage in his hand, but gossip will have to tide him over.

"You know, one day I noticed they didn't have any friends. Nicest one in the unit. Almost everyone liked 'em. Had a talent for settlin' arguments. Pretty sure they could have gotten anyone on the unit to agree to basically anythin' if you gave 'em enough time. But they'd never hang out with nobody. Didn't get close to anyone. Just kept it..."

He gestures with his hand in a flat line, to imply no change, no ups, no downs.

"So one day I called 'em out on it. I remember them bein' real' surprised I was even payin' that much attention. An' then they kinda met my brother through me, an' my brother doesn't give a shit about bein' nice, so I think Nikaro also kinda stopped givin' a shit about being nice, at least to us. And it turns out? They were a mean son of a bitch under all that."

"Hmm."

It's the only sound Irahl makes for a minute as he takes in all that Vincent describes and compares it to the person that he'd only glancingly acknowledged earlier. It seems to check out, and if Vincent's assessment is accurate, it tells Irahl a lot.

He'd known a few guys like that over the years. They'd been some of the more tolerable ones to work with, and even tended to get along better with him than most--as long as there were no conflicts of strong opinions. Then, things would get nasty pretty fast, surprising everyone. Any clashes or tarnished opinions had never been a significant problem for him, but none of them had been second-in-command of anything.

Trying to guess how things might ultimately pan out with them is a skill that he doesn't have, but at least he has a clearer picture of what might be going on beneath their ambiently-pleasant exterior. He can make a pointed note to himself not to underestimate them or form premature opinions about their character. At the very least, learning that they have a secret mean streak has earned them some points.

Finally, he marks the tail-end of all of this deep thinking with a sip from his glass. "...Good to know."

Perhaps Vincent should have shown a little more reservation in describing someone that may very well be Irahl's coworker in the future... But that's just not how he thinks. People are people. Neither rank nor title mean you're suddenly immune from people having noticed how you act once upon a time.

In the silence, he's remembering bits and pieces of old memories. He's often sad that he doesn't have his group of friends from his unit anymore, but he hasn't really picked around for details in years. He wonders if anyone else is still around... Because if they are, it's pretty likely that they'd be here.

Irhal's comment brings him back. He nods reflexively.

"Yeah. They were a pretty good guy, they just hated..." He looks for a tactful way to say it, and then shrugs, "...Most people."

And then he leans back, un-hunching his back and shoulders for what's probably the first time in hours, if not all day.

"But that was also fuckin'... A decade ago, who knows if they've changed since then."

Vincent's shifting and unhunching is contagious. Irahl straightens up against the headboard, stretching his sore shoulders as the conversation shifts gears.

He takes a drink as if there's something stiffer in his glass. "Guess I'll find out. Working with some of the unit tomorrow."

As he remembers the early day he has coming up, he finally sets the glass aside on the nightstand. Now that he has seen and set his watch, he knows exactly how many hours are between then and now, and it's not many.

"--If I get there on time," he adds. As a precaution, he puts the watch under his pillow so that the alarm will go off practically inside his brain.

"...Shit, right. Early mornin'."

Vincent frowns. He'll embarrass anyone in front of anyone most of the time, but he doesn't want to be the guy that made Irahl late because he couldn't stop blabbing about old times. He finally stands from his chair, crosses to the bathroom... And then, a few seconds later, leans back out of the doorway.

"...Hang on." Something has just occurred to him. Something that wasn't a problem until he envisioned laying down to sleep. "There's just... One bed in here, right? I ain't missin' a secret second bed or somethin'?"

No, there are no pull-down beds, no couches that transform into futons. The bed itself is luxuriously (almost absurdly) large, but that does not change the fact that this is definitely a single-bed situation.

"Hmm?" A little confused, he leans forward to give a cursory glance around the room. "Don't think so."

He doesn't know why Vincent seems to be asking because he wants to sleep in this room--in his room--but maybe the habit to bunk near each other for safety still runs pretty strong. Vincent seems like the type.

It still hasn't crossed Irahl's mind that Vincent is asking because this is the only room between the two of them.

"Huh."

Vincent seems pretty puzzled by this revelation, now that he's finally arrived. And he's honestly a little surprised that Irahl is being so casual about it. They've slept next to each other plenty of times, but he didn't exactly jump to share a bed back at Vincent's apartment or anything.

"Do you... Wanna..." He starts, then frowns. He doesn't have a problem sharing the space himself, he just... Doesn't want to sound like he's hitting on Irahl on accident. And that's not an easy thing to maneuver around. "...Since there's just one bed... Should I..."

He... Gestures, but it's not in any helpful direction.

Irahl also begins to frown, but it's because of the weird feeling of vertigo that happens as Vincent clumsily meanders through whatever he's trying to say. Irahl's brain naturally races ahead to try and complete the question with guesses, wondering what Vincent is trying to ask and why. So far, none of the directions that he's guessing in are correct.

He knows he has missed a step in this staircase somewhere, he just doesn't know which one.

"...Should you what?"

He considers finishing the sentence for him, 'should I go back to my room,' but he doesn't want to put words in Vincent's mouth. He needs to see where Vincent is going on his own.

Well, now he feels dumb for having to ask. Vincent foolishly assumes that Irahl figured this all out a long time ago. But he knows it's only going to get worse if he doesn't say it, so he tries to summon up some cool energy and just spit it out.

"Didn't realize there's... Just one bed in the room, so... Y'wanna share? Or maybe I should... Try to go down an' bug someone?"

At three in the morning? He realizes as he's saying it that he has no idea how that'd go over.

They're both on the same road, but driving in opposite directions. Once more, they fly right past one another.

"What? ...Why?" Irahl asks, sounding somewhat confounded.

What he means is, 'why do you feel so strongly about this that you would bug someone downstairs about it instead of just going back to your own room,' and not 'why would you complain about a single bed, you big baby,' but both of those sound the same when distilled down to a single word.

Edited 2024-10-11 02:19 (UTC)

Why? To which part? Or is Irahl just saying that he's fine with it?

It's just weird enough that Vincent starts looking pretty confused himself, and wonders if he's really misread or missed something. At some point. Either tonight or in their relationship at large.

"'Cause there's... Only one bed and I don't wanna sleep in a chair...?" He explains, wondering if that'll jog anything. And then he doubles back, still leaning out the bathroom door, "Wait, what do you think I'm talkin' about?"

Yeah, he... it's too bad that Vincent can't see, because it's not often that Irahl has a visible look of consternation on his face. He suddenly feels very tired, as if his entire day is catching up to him in this very moment.

"I just... nevermind. If you want to stay in here, it's fine."

Vincent huffs. This is frustrating, but he's so tired, and his own brain is more than ready to grab onto the out that he thinks is being offered him.

"...'Kay. I'mma get ready."

So he finally heads fully into the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and changes into pants a little more suited for sleeping in.

He is so busy trying to outrun his own brain chewing on why he was nervous about this to begin with that when he comes out of the bathroom, he heads right on over to the bed and starts pulling up the covers so that he can climb in on the opposite side.

Irahl also huffs under his breath, but he has to admit that there's no real reason to be huffy. He isn't used to having someone so enthusiastically in his own space when they have another choice--Robin not included--but he doesn't really mind all that much. On the ship, they had both been operating under excuses that they could name on why they'd moved their bunking situation to the cargo bay, and then never addressed it again. So, if anything, it's the skipping right past the pretense stage that is a little agitating. It also makes keeping up that work-mode distance more complicated.

All in all, it's jarring and a little vexing, but he doesn't really mind it.

He settles down on his side of the bed (on top of the covers, as he often does even when alone) while Vincent gets ready, and by the time Vincent is done, Irahl has also settled with the fact that his roommate is kind of clingy and he's apparently okay with this fact.

As Vincent is pulling back the covers and climbing into bed, Irahl mutters, "If my alarm goes off and I'm not up, punch me awake."

Vincent still doesn't know what the deal (or... lack of deal?) was, but once he's laying down he's very quick to convince himself that whatever it was, they can figure it out in the morning. After some sleep.

"You got it, man..." Vincent says, more into his pillow than at Irahl.

Admittedly, Vincent does like being able to sleep near other people more than he likes sleeping alone. And Irahl's a very comfortable person for him to be around, so he's... Secretly pretty happy, underneath it all, that this is how things worked out.

Even with the supremely exhausting day he has had, Irahl has never been known to fall asleep quickly in a new place without the help of alcohol. The fact that he has just had an unexpected bout of confusion just before bed hasn't helped this fact, so he is left with an exhausted but busy brain after he turns off the lamp to try and sleep. He can't even muster up the energy for specific, productive thoughts. It's just a weary slurry in his head.

Somewhere along the way, as he drifts in and out of semi-consciousness, one element finally begins to separate itself and rise up into his awareness. Eventually, lying there in the dark, Irahl realizes that he's anxious.

He's too tired to be able to tell where exactly this anxiety is coming from, which isn't terribly unusual, but it is inconvenient. He's sure it has something to do with his big day coming up, or the whole lifechanging ordeal in general, but it doesn't really matter when he needs to be sleeping right now.

This isn't new. It's just frustrating. Of all the times for him to be stuck in a familiar half-asleep loop of nameless worry, of course it had to be tonight.

He's about to wearily resign himself to the fact that he'll be in a slow spiral for the few hours left of the night, because he knows how this goes by now, when he eventually realizes that there is one factor that is out of the ordinary in this case. And, with that thought, he remembers that he does know of one thing that has helped him out of this state in the past.

So, as unobtrusively as he can, Irahl rolls over in Vincent's direction and nudges his arm out until his hand lightly bumps up against the side of the other man's shoulder and rests there.

It's just a tiny, inconsequential anchor, but it does the trick. There's something about being able to reassure his subconscious mind that a friend is right there, and isn't going anywhere, that calms him down enough to finally fall asleep.

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GRATIA // PSL

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