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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Irahl can't deny that it's pretty entertaining to think that serious-faced, has-been-an-adult-his-entire-life Seth had been the one to be spooked by the sun. He considers commenting on it, or about the fact that it's pretty ironic that the one who hadn't been a fan of the sun ended up putting down roots in the desert while the other one had crawled back underground, but he thinks better of it. He recognizes the fact that he should probably space out how many teasing comments he makes about his new employer.

So, he only allows himself a single, amused huff, before swerving back to lob another stupid comment at his friend instead.

"Seems safer than warming up to it... almost to death."

Sunburn joke.

Unfortunately for him, Vincent does nothing to encourage Irahl to stop poking fun at him. The prod gets a quiet snort out of him as he holds his drink near his face.

"Hey, never said I was the smart twin..."

His mind wanders to wondering whether or not his skin is cooking as they speak... And he finally has to just force himself away from thinking about it.

"It can't be worse than that first time. We didn't even really go outside."

And then belatedly, he remembers something--and holds his drink out towards Irahl with a growing smile.

"Oh, right. Cheers, man. To Seth bein' a good guy even if he's also a stubborn prick. An' to you actually doin' some work around here."

Many glasses have been offered toward him in cheers, and nearly just as many have been blatantly ignored. So, Vincent should feel very proud that he has earned being one of the very few that Irahl has deigned to accept.

"Here's to me getting off my lazy ass," he returns, before clinking his glass against Vincent's.

He'll comment on that and not on Seth being a good guy, especially in reference to him fronting the bill, just in case calling more attention to it somehow jinxes them--either now or later once Jandru informs him of how his brother and new employee have been gallivanting around the city.

Vincent loves that he followed through on the dumb joke. And something about that makes him realize, fully, that he really is here. They're finally doing this specific thing he's been wanting to do for ages. This probably all started as just another dumb thing he said to keep them hopeful of returning to life outside of space-jail, but despite all odds its somehow become a reality.

So after a chuckle, he settles in and has a couple more quiet sips of his drink, thinking fondly of his friend and how good things have been with him around. He starts feeling a little emotional, actually. It's been a long time since he's been this happy, he doesn't really know what to do with it.

"...Gods, still can't believe you're here, man." He laughs to himself, letting some of the pressure off with a few words. "Maybe someday it'll stop bein' a surprise an' I'll stop bringin' it up every couple hours."

Once more, Vincent does that thing that he does, where he pulls Irahl's attention up from only putting one metaphorical foot in front of the other and forces him to actually focus on the present. His mind is of course always at least a little resistant to the effort, but normally it's because the present is too unpleasant or challenging to want to do so for long. These days, it's the fact that things have been good that has been overwhelming.

If Vincent is going to dwell on it for a little bit, though, the least he can do is join in a little himself... even if seeing the look on Vincent's face makes him feel some kind of rattled that he can't parse.

When he lets himself think about the fact that this is somehow all real, he suddenly remembers something that had slipped his mind almost immediately after it had happened. And normally he would keep this sort of thing under tight lock and key, but Vincent has always had a way of compelling him to share.

"...You know, I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was back home."

He manages to say it lightly enough, even though what he doesn't say is how the pang of it had been just like when he used to wake up thinking he was somehow still in the lab. He doesn't say that waking up in pain, in a darkened room, had really made him believe for one crushing moment that he was injured and alone, holed up in that room they'd put him in after they'd taken what few freedoms he'd had.

"Couldn't believe it when I looked around and saw I was really still here."

And when he trails off this time, what he doesn't say was how absolutely delirious with relief and joy he'd been when he'd rolled over and seen Vincent sleeping obliviously beside him.

So, yeah. He gets it.

At the very least, it's good to know that it's not just him. They're in this together in a lot of different ways. He finds himself fighting a sudden urge to reach over and... He doesn't know, hold his hand or something. But even Vincent knows that'd be too intimate a gesture for Irahl, even if they weren't in public.

He assures himself that it's just him not knowing what to do with himself. It's probably his brain just tossing up whatever random ideas come to mind as he fishes around for some way to say something that he's been having trouble putting to words for a couple of weeks now.

In the end, he just nods and says, "Well, glad you are."

And after a little more thought (and a couple of sips of his drink), with the sound of chatter and vague music beginning to feel further away, he adds on another point that's occurred to him many times since Irahl suddenly showed up in Skeleton City.

"M'hopin' we don't get separated again, but in case we do--" He smiles, a bit of that rare playful energy returning, "--We oughta make sure you have a real good time over here. Stockpile ya' with good times to last 'til I find ya' again."

The fact that Irahl is experiencing a similar sort of strange restlessness that trends in Vincent's direction makes the thing that his friend says even worse to hear. Especially with a smile like that? All that optimism that is somehow both sad and playful at the same time?

He can feel something inside of him sink a little. He's glad that Vincent can't see, because he's sure that something must have flickered across his face before he gets a hold of it again.

There's no chance he can be convincing with optimism, so he leans on someone who he can always rely on: wry humor.

"Guess we have to."

He will at least agree to that one, but it has very little to do with making sure that he himself has enough fun to tide him over in case they never see each other again. Then, of course he must let at least a little of the grim side of things show, also spun as if it's a joke.

"Got to have something to think about while bored and hiding from the law."

He's sure that Irahl is just humoring him. The only time that this guy's been optimistic has been in life-or-death situations, and only on Vincent's behalf. A sort of existential sadness had already been swirling around with all his other feelings, but he can't help but feel pangs of it now that he's said what they're all thinking and Irahl has answered with a depressing best-case-scenario.

"Guess we gotta," he agrees, shrugging his shoulders, still smiling, "Life is shit anyway. I think bein' cooped up in a ship like that for a few months has made me wanna go out an' do stuff before somethin' else fucked up happens."

Well, Irahl has made him want to do that more than the ship, but he doesn't have to say or acknowledge that part right now.

The topic has barely been brushed up against, and Irahl already can't stand the feeling of them both trying to climb onto the same little life raft. It reminds him of all the parts of their stay aboard the Eclipse that he doesn't particularly want to remember.

Luckily, in thinking about the wild string of events and coincidences that have happened in the past year for the three of them--Robin obligatorily included--a thought occurs to him that blessedly serves as a way to swerve the conversation someplace that is still related, but far more tolerable than where they're currently heading.

"Hey... maybe you'll show up at my city next time."

The idea is no stranger than anything else that has happened so far, right? If anything, given their collective track record, it almost seems more likely than them all being put back where they cosmically belong.

Despite how often Vincent has thought about Irahl suddenly vanishing again and what he might do if it happened, it clearly has not occurred to him that he might be the one to go somewhere else--and that Irahl's city is probably as fair a game as any other place he could be disappeared to.

He laughs when the realization hits him. He doesn't have a great opinion of Irahl's city from what he's been told; their modern aboveground conveniences aside, seems kind of grim. But that's part of what makes him laugh.

"Imagine--" He smirks over his glass, "Be honest, how fast would my dumb ass be in trouble?"

Yes, this he can safely muse over to his heart's content. They have a new playground to enjoy their drinks and be pointless in for a few minutes.

It's something of a relief, over both having found a new avenue of conversation and the strange sense of reassurance caused by imagining Vincent existing in his city.

"Depends on where you end up." He happily takes a drink as he lets the mental image settle in. "Under the overpass would be fine. You'd probably like it... But the Andolies? Instantly."

He wasn't hating the previous conversation, but he's also not at all sad to hear that Irahl seems to be more comfortable on the current topic. He rests his face in his hand similar to how he had settled back in the fancy cafe upstairs.

"What's the... An... dolies?" He asks, already sure he's saying it wrong. 'Overpass' is a word he's at least passingly familiar with, even if his understanding and Irahl's are slightly different--but that second one gets nothing but question marks.

Casually chatting is still something that he's only barely competent at, and isn't something he naturally falls into, but if he's ever going to give it a shot, it's while drinking with only his good friend around.

"Wealthy elven district. 'Heart' of the city. A lot of glass and... entitlement. Don't know if you can imagine it." He gestures around vaguely with his glass for a moment, indicating the city they're currently in, even though Vincent will miss the gesture. "Named after... mountains?"

"Boy, that don't sound familiar at all," Vincent says sarcastically. He couldn't see the other guy's gesture, but he more-or-less imagined it anyway.

Then, with a bit of a chuckle, he starts feeling around in his pants pockets for something. These pockets are not quite as fathomless as the pockets of his signature coat, but the sheer scale of them still seems to attract a surprising amount of stuff.

"See, that sounds like the kinda place... Where people get mad at you if you walk through the wrong door in a museum, y'know?"

He finds what he's looking for and sets it halfway between the two of them. It's his deck of cards. He has a lot of fun just chatting with his buddy, but he figures having something to do might take a little of the pressure off of Irahl to keep a conversation going.

"Or in a civic building," he comments with the kind of specificity that comes from firsthand experience. So, Vincent is welcome to imagine Irahl as the 'Vincent' in this scenario, sounding the alarms as he looms like an out-of-place stormcloud wandering through polished hallways.

Meanwhile, Vincent knows that the card deck has been seen and acknowledged by the sound of Irahl's drink being pushed off to the side, out of the field of play.

They may have been apart for three months, but Vincent still knows that sound by heart. He moves his drinks aside as well, picks the cards back up, and works on shuffling.

The idea of Irahl looming through buildings and casually (obliviously) setting off alarms is very funny, though it makes him think of other issues he has with fancy places...

"Y'know, anywhere that's mostly made of glass is kind of a problem for me," he says, "Even before I couldn't see. It's a really dumb thing to make all your buildings out of."

When Irahl goes to move his glass of ice aside, he takes a quick moment to jingle the cubes around without even thinking about it. Maybe an idle gesture while thinking; maybe subconsciously wanting to start chomping on those bad boys.

For now, this glass gets pushed aside with the other one, waiting in the wings.

"Why? ...Afraid you'll trip and end up outside, twenty floors up?"

He really does have to just make a guess at Vincent's reasoning here, since all glass buildings do for him is make his sniping work easier.

"Hah, I mean... Always a danger," he chuckles, starting to deal out cards to the both of them, "But it's more that I just... Break shit."

They've played cards a few times since their time on the Eclipse, mostly on the journey here--but Vincent still feels a spark of gratitude that these cards are made of something that doesn't roll or stick together when he deals it.

"If I do get sent to your city, any suggestions?" And to clarify that he doesn't mean in a survival sense, he adds, "Like... Food places, bars? Uh..."

There's a slight pause as he tries to remember literally any recommendation Irahl has ever given and comes up short--possibly because Irahl hasn't exactly had glowing reviews of his neighborhood or anything--so he calls on the one thing he can remember...

"...Cheap open-air apartments?"

Irahl is also experiencing the simple joy of holding cards, though his is more due to Vincent's dot-language. He has been enjoying learning it the hard way, even though it's slow going. As each card is dealt out, he runs through the routine he'd developed on the way here of idly running his thumb over each one as he adds it to his hand, attempting to read what is punched there without looking.

He isn't very successful at it, but he doesn't mind.

"Get some cheap elven food under the overpass," he's able to answer without hesitation, as it's literally the only thing he can think to suggest. As a general rule, he doesn't especially enjoy establishments of any kind.

As for the second question, he makes a thoughtful sound as if seriously mulling over the options.

"Know of some nice units if you like heights and elemental storms. If not, you got to fight the gargoyles for a ground floor vacancy."

Vincent snaps his fingers at the food suggestion, committing it to memory. He still doesn't know what 'elven' means, but it sounds like a group of people so he figures it's one of those things he could probably figure out if he got there.

"Hm... M'not a big fan of storms, but how bad're... Gargoyles? S'that like a...?"

Well, this is a question where he definitely doesn't want to ask if that's a kind of people or, you know, a giant rodent or something.

At least he isn't surprised anymore when Vincent doesn't recognize creatures and other phenomena that he'd thought were pretty universal. Didn't know what harpies were, and Irahl hasn't seen hide-nor-metaphorical-hair of gargoyles since he'd been teleported out of his city, so it checks out.

There's something actually kind of entertaining about explaining things that are normally too mundane for him to be interested in. He sees gargoyles as little more than giant, ill-tempered street dogs, but maybe someone who doesn't have to clean up the trouble they cause will get a kick out of them.

"Big monster kind of made out of stone. Might be fun to try out that sword of yours on."

...In fact, the more that he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he would love to see Vincent fight a gargoyle.

"Huh," Vincent remarks, running his fingers over the punched holes of his cards. He used to make an effort to at least appear like he's looking at his hand around friends, to not weird them out more than needed, but that habit fell to the wayside around Irahl pretty quickly. Now, from the outside, it probably looks like he's staring at something past Irahl and vaguely ceiling-ward while his hand independently slaps down an opening card on the table.

"They fast?" He asks, because he's been mulling over the idea of fighting them too. He's fought things similar, but he's trying to figure out how they compare. The whole thought exercise is nice; reminds him of a lot of conversations about nothing important they used to have on the ship.

Irahl is never in a hurry. He takes his time before placidly placing a card down, though it's not due to paying more attention to the conversation or thinking about his turn. It's because he's taking advantage of his current sobriety by still trying to read the cards without looking. When he gets tipsy, reading is the first skill to go--regardless of whether he's using his eyes or his hands.

"Not while they're chewing on something," he comments, though he doesn't share yet that it works best if the thing they're chewing on is an annoying and immortal friend. He'll hold onto that piece of advice a little bit longer.

"Worth it for a ground-floor apartment though."

Maybe it's because Irahl brought up the subject of chewing on something, but Vincent start wondering if he ought to order something from the kitchen. Miraculously, the power-greens lunch and mountain of sugar he ate after already feel like a distant memory. Or a fever dream, in the case of the desserts.

"Huh..." He comments again, seeming to consider it despite the fact that it will probably never happen. Then, with a smirk, he unknowingly tees Irahl up perfectly, "Well, I already feel like I gotta fight Robin for my apartment half the time, what's a couple big stone monsters, right?"

Well, the opening is right there, isn't it? Robin is magically summoned into the conversation, and the memories of gargoyle-hunting with the demigod puts a smirk on Irahl's face.

Of course he can't go straight at it, though, when there are several potential directions he could take stretching out before him.

"...Should ask him about them sometime," he suggests after musing for a moment. The smirk is still there in his voice. "He spent a lot of time with them."

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