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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It turns out that Irahl is very much feeling the same way, as he finds himself mired in more mental discomfort with each step he takes once the hotel comes into sight. He doesn't notice when Vincent pauses in his tracks because he's too busy mentally prepping himself for retiring into a small, dark space.

So, when Vincent's question catches him, it gets a quiet but heartfelt sound of agreement in response. Irahl turns around immediately.

It's only now that he realizes the constant low-level strain that doing nothing but lying around and healing had been putting on him. As soon as he's not moving toward their room anymore, he breathes a nice, big sigh in the open air.

That sigh tells him everything he needs to know. Smiling to himself, he sets off confidently down the sidewalk again with his friend beside him.

"Yeah," he starts responding as if Irahl had expressed himself with actual words, "I just ain't feelin' goin' back yet. An' this is the fuckin' Capitol, I'm sure there's..."

He gestures vaguely at whatever happens to be in front of them.

"Theaters an' music spots an', I dunno, public... Art... An' shit to look at..."

You know him, a man of culture. What he means is that he should probably get out and experience the city at least a little bit anyway.

Irahl has spent decades moving around all those things that Vincent just mentioned and never experiencing any of them, so he doesn't comment.

Even with how sedentary he can be, he's still used to spending a lot of time ranging across the city, getting to know the lay of the land as well as any other wilderness. Going from his recent restrictions back home, to entombed in a little box underground, to bedridden here, has been hell. And with captivity and a spaceship before that, he feels far overdue for some exploration.

He isn't interested in participating in any of the establishments or culture here, but if he's going to be spending a significant amount of time in this city, he should at least get started on learning its trails.

If Vincent is interested in any of those things he listed, though...

"How surprised would he be if you talked about art?" He asks, obviously referring to Seth and how their hypothetical dinner conversation might go.

That question gets a good laugh out of Vincent, which speaks to his thoughts on the subject before he even has to say anything.

"He'd think I was makin' it up," he says, grinning from ear to ear, "Wouldn't believe I saw it for a second."

One of the few upsides of the awful noontime heat is that very few people are out on the streets at this hour. They can walk without having to move through a crowd. Great news for Vincent especially, who tends to come dangerously close to accidentally knocking into people on a regular basis.

"S'fine though. It'd be funny but I ain't an art guy. Kinda wish we could just find... Y'know, a normal bar..."

The sun isn't Irahl's favorite thing, but he dislikes crowds far more. They make his skin crawl a little bit and tend to make the buzzing in his head more noticeable, so he has a longstanding habit of traveling above them if he can't avoid them altogether. Walking along on the ground and following a sidewalk like a normal person is always an odd experience for him, so he's grateful that he doesn't currently have to deal with navigating a sea of people at the same time.

Without being stressed by the population at large, he actually has enough mental bandwidth to spare on his friend as they stroll along.

He's already looking around when Vincent mentions finding a bar, memorizing landmarks and trying to decipher the way platforms and levels connect to each other, but he hadn't been using the mental filter that actually takes in what the establishments around them are. It hadn't really occurred to him to pay attention to that sort of thing until Vincent brings it up.

His response is a dire and dubious sound of acknowledgement, conveying that he doesn't know if he'll know what to look for, but he'll keep an eye out anyway.

Vincent doesn't sound very sure about their chances of finding a real bar either.

"Honestly, I don't know if they got normal bars up here. Just... Ritzy clubs an' shit like that. Probably gotta go underground to find the real shit..."

So he won't be sad if they don't magically find a little hole-in-the-wall dive bar hidden between all the gardens and fountains. Vincent puts his hands behind his head, adopting a relaxed stance while avoiding other pedestrians. And for a little while longer, he walks in relative silence, just listening to the sounds of the city around him.

After a while, he starts to think it statistically unlikely that they'd get in trouble because of how far they've moved from the scene of the crime--and pipes up about earlier.

"Hey... Should probably tell you why I popped off on that guy like that..."

Hearing Vincent's doubt about whether suitable bars even exist around here is honestly relieving, because Irahl quickly discovers that he can't begin to guess what most of these places are. He hadn't been great at that skill back home either, but he'd at least understood some of the cultural lexicon there. Here, he has nothing but cryptically-trendy names emblazoned on elegant signs to guess from.

So, he scales back his attempts from 'earnest' to 'halfhearted,' and focuses more on the conversation instead.

"Seemed like a prick," he offers, even though there had been nothing objectively about the man's behavior that had given him that impression. If he was being honest with himself, the man's only visible sin had been to make Vincent upset... which is honestly more than enough for Irahl to feel confident in his assessment.

It's very generous of Irahl to say so, especially when even Vincent knows how wild that would have looked to any strangers. Sure, maybe the guy came off as a bit brash if you squint, but his own reactions got very harsh, very quickly. He wouldn't have been offended if Irahl's response had been to question what the fuck all that was for.

"Yeah..." Vincent sounds a little hesitant to agree at first, "He used to be. Dunno how the years have changed him but... I guess I don't really care."

He's not about to pretend he's being a hero here. He's being an asshole. But Vincent isn't bringing this up because he wants Irahl to think he's a good person, he's bringing it up because he's worried that the other guy's going to try to pull something that'll put Irahl in danger.

He's quiet for a moment, gathering his words carefully to make sure they come out right. It takes a little longer than usual because of the alcohol.

"Back in the day, he got it in his head that me an' my brother weren't fully human an' that we was a danger to everybody. Almost got us in a lot of trouble a couple times."

The things that normal people care about don't usually line up with the things that Irahl cares about--case in point being it doesn't really matter whether Vincent is being fair to this guy or not. Good for him if he has turned over a new leaf between then and now, but if this guy had done something in the past to get under Vincent's skin this much, then that's more than enough of a damnation.

Vincent's explanation only solidifies it.

"So, why's he still around?" he asks, plain and simple. He knows how he would have solved this situation by now.

The best thing to say here would be something to the effect of, 'technically he's done nothing wrong,' or maybe even expressing a hope that he's changed, but neither of those are what come out of Vincent's mouth.

"'Cause we don't wanna make it look like he had a point."

The only thing they had going for them back then was that very few people actually took that guy seriously. Still, some of his friends backed him up, and people talk. Even if they didn't think he and his brother were brab'ja, they knew they didn't get along with Bedger. It'd be very easy to suspect them if anything bad happened.

"Though now, I dunno. Bet he's some bigwig now. S'why I gotta ask my brother."

That's exactly the sort of answer Irahl had been hoping for, so he appreciates the honesty. It's much better than what he usually gets, which are dodgy non-answers or assumptions that he's kidding.

"Let me know what he says."

He means every word, though he says it with such easy matter-of-factness. He'd sounded more dire about the color of Vincent's drink during brunch. To him, the topic hardly interrupts their pleasant stroll, as he views it as simply a problem that he is offering to solve for both the brothers. A gesture of goodwill.

"Hey, I will."

In response, he breaks his leisurely pose to reach over and pat Irahl on the shoulder--though he is slightly off-target and it ends up being more of a brief pat on the back.

"An' I know this is gonna be hard for you to hear," he jokes, beginning to smirk, "But if he walks up to you somewhere an' gets all nosy, you gotta just ignore him."

Actually, it's a sudden relief to realize Irahl really won't go out of his way to talk to this guy--unlike someone they're mutually acquainted with, who wouldn't be able to resist the chance to try and destroy this man socially.

Ah, there's the dire noise--musing darkly to himself as if it would truly be difficult to keep his mouth shut. Being tipsy puts a little extra emphasis on it.

Though, Irahl's mind hilariously drifts to that same mutual acquaintance in this moment, and he's struck with the urge to not even jokingly be associated with how that individual comports himself.

So, he speaks up again a minute or two later, as if this next point is not at all related to the previous one.

"...Think some of the guys back home still have money on me being mute."

Vincent is a chatty guy compared to Irahl, certainly, but he's never seemed to mind their companionable silences. That's one of the reasons they got along so well on that ship--Vincent's proven that he can go a whole afternoon without saying a word to the guy so long as he knew where he was and had something to do himself.

So the minute or two of silence while Irahl's mind wanders is hardly a burden. Vincent continues to think of this and that himself while the walkway starts to curve slowly downward. It takes him a second to remember what they'd just been talking about when Irahl speaks up again.

"...Oh yeah?" He sounds amused by this, inclining his head in Irahl's direction, "Y'know, you always struck me as one of those guys that ain't gonna say shit if you ain't got shit to say. I could see it."

Imagining Irahl giving his own team a cold reception... Not difficult.

Irahl hadn't consciously noticed how often he talks around Vincent until that comment. He's struck that Vincent's reaction is essentially 'I could see you being a quiet guy' and not 'I wonder that myself sometimes.' Vincent's response is much different from what Robin's would have been, for example.

After an amused sound to first acknowledge that he'd received the comment, there's another little pause. They both give each other plenty of time with their own thoughts, with Irahl's being partially spent on gathering information about his surroundings. While the plethora of walkways and platforms is potentially an exciting prospect for creative navigation, he's mostly disappointed with what he sees. It's all too clean and occupied. So far, there hasn't been a single abandoned or neglected building in sight, reminding him too much of the gleaming, upscale elven neighborhoods that he'd hated setting foot in back home.

His attention returns from calculating how difficult it would be to jump from an overhanging ledge to a nearby balcony.

"Soon as they know I can answer questions, it's all over."

Here above the ground, they'd be hard-pressed to find even a temporarily vacant storefront. The property up here is highly sought-after. And while some of the spaces they wander through are large enough to resemble city blocks, everything being encased in glass means that there aren't a lot of good places to skulk or clamber.

"Huh, like they wouldn't stop pesterin' ya'?" Vincent asks, a little curious about the line of logic here. Being the chattier twin, he's never really had a reason to not talk to people.

In stark contrast to the social avoidance he's describing, Irahl is actually entertaining this conversation. The lingering cushion of alcohol and sugar helps keep him talking, but of course Vincent himself is the driving force behind it.

Even as Irahl wonders how Vincent could not intrinsically understand what he's talking about, perplexed by the nature of an extrovert, he doesn't think about the fact that those very same social powers are working on him right now.

"They get curious. Ask questions. Think we're friends."

It's awful.

Vincent can relate. As social as he is, he doesn't like talking to just anybody. He's met plenty of people who get too friendly too fast and assume that you're getting along a lot better than you really are. They think that just because you were nice to them, they've got free license to follow you around.

But something about Irahl's explanation strikes him as very funny, too; he chuckles and in good spirits, bats Irahl's shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Aight bud, if you didn't want me askin' questions you can just say so..."

He's teasing him, of course. He knows they're cool.

Especially with a hand batting against his shoulder, more of Irahl's attention is being pulled from his idle memorization of his surroundings to focus on the interaction at hand. He's still very aware of the fact that they're strolling along, out in the open, but his antsy need to stretch his legs is shifting to simple enjoyment of being able to roam around on his own time.

This roaming used to be the majority of how he'd spent his days. It's one of the few therapeutic things that he'd indulged in for his own sake, and it had been sorely lacking for most of this past year.

Exploring with another person is an odd experience, however. There had been one point in time--long ago--when he'd range around in the company someone else, but it's otherwise an exercise to get away from other people and the rest of the world. It's strange, but he ultimately decides that he can tolerate this one exception, for now.

Vincent's comment makes him scoff.

"Sorry, you weren't taking the hint." There's an apology, so you know he's joking.

As if Irahl had called him out on actually doing something mischievous, Vincent cackles.

"Jeez, you think you know a guy..."

In reality, some of his joy comes from knowing he's an exception to this rule. He briefly considers whether or not he's ever pushed it, hearing Irahl explain what he's always sort of thought about him as truth--but he doesn't think he has. If Irahl doesn't want to talk about something, he just doesn't talk.

It's with a big smile on his face that he returns to the way he was walking before.

"But nah, I get that. Folks gettin' overly friendly 'cause you gave 'em the time of day once. Assumin' all kinds of shit."

That laugh.

The ease with which Irahl can get Vincent to laugh makes him want to continue making stupid jokes, and in order to joke, he needs to keep talking. It's a great social reward system.

And if Vincent wants to know for sure what an exception he is to Irahl's usual rules, all he has to do is ask the person who is in second place--by talking to Robin. The difference will quickly become apparent.

As it is, Irahl once more falls into volunteering information when he doesn't need to, easily elaborating as if this is something he ever does.

"You know, don't want them thinking they won't be bumped off a ledge if they get annoying. Hate to surprise a guy like that."

And Irahl is immediately rewarded, because Vincent laughs again. He genuinely thinks Irahl is funny, and always has, even if he understands better than most people that this guy isn't actually joking.

"Settin' expectations!" He exclaims, "That's good of you..."

And if it really is about establishing a baseline, it makes him feel even better for being one of the few that gets to bypass the whole thing and get to know Irahl anyway.

Vincent is truly one of the very few who have gotten to know Irahl without slowly chipping through his armor the hard way. Previously, the only ways to accomplish such a thing were either to be just as committed to his vendetta as he is, or to haul him down into a hostile underkingdom and strip him of the ability to keep people at arm's length by holding him in captivity.

It turns out that Vincent has discovered the secret third way, which is to be very considerate and charming while trapped in space together. It's miraculous.

As a member of this very exclusive club, he has earned the right to premium Irahl sarcasm, without the threat of anyone bumping anyone off any ledges.

"You know me. So thoughtful."

His chuckling about Irahl's "good will" peters off into a very comfortable silence. He continues walking along near his friend, letting him have some time to wander in relative quiet while he's busy with his own meandering thoughts. They mostly circle around how weird it is to be walking around outside in the Capitol and not just have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach the whole time.

After a while, they pass through a section of the glass tunnels that are a little less air-conditioned than the others. Maybe there's a fan out somewhere, or maybe it was set up poorly--whatever the issue, the ambient temperature in this strip of the city is a couple degrees higher than the rest, and it's just enough for Vincent to really feel after a minute.

"Ugh..." He complains, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "Never liked this fuckin' heat..."

He frowns... Until an idea hits him. It's a long way from the hotel, but...

"Hey, d'you wanna just... Go downstairs? It's cooler... An' I know for sure they got bars down there. We just gotta make sure we can get back up again."

His brother didn't tell him not to go downstairs, after all. Seth's probably ambivalent towards the kinds of shady neighborhoods they visit so long as neither of them get into big trouble.

The idea of heading down into anything that remotely resembles the Underground is not the most appealing thing in the world, but he dislikes the thought of heading back to the hotel even more, and he's worried that Vincent will tire out in the heat before he's finally ready to return to their room. So, in the name of staying out as long as possible, he takes a few moments to convince himself of the idea.

Besides, he has actually been enjoying the buzz he has going. It reminds him of their time on the Eclipse, and they had always talked about someday going to a bar with actual people in it.

So, there's a hesitation, but his enduring good mood keeps it a short one, and any reservations he might have don't make it all the way to his voice.

"You're good at asking for directions, right?"

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