.:A Brief Interlude:.

[ganymed]

Who: Ganymede and people.
What: It's a meeting.
Where: Mac Anu, Ganymede's McMansion.
When: 10/12
Warnings: Nothing yet.
MAC ANU ~ GANYMEDE'S MCMANSION



The everpresent afternoon sunset hangs, echoing picturesque across the glass windows apparent at each spot within the large building. In a large room full of tables and what not are heaps of various cuisine settled here or there. Seafood, pastas, drinks, the like; Mediterranean style so if nobody likes that...gomen.

Ganymede has made it clear that he prefers people to be here in order to get themselves together. Sorted, somehow. They're all acting with a sort of independence he seems disinterested in disturbing, but he wants the prospect of potential solutions to be floated along.

If someone has new information they can share, well, it is encouraged. If not, he hopes that they will at least participate in some way.

It now begins.

 

(( OOC Note: People will not be attacked by monsters once within the McMansion, including pool area. ))

Comments

[insinning]

[This is already a jail for Sinclair so, honestly, legit]

Um. Why are you on the floor? I thought you'd be more interested in the information people are sharing.

[He'll just reach down and take Mithrun's hand and, haul him up. He's actually pretty sturdy despite not being much taller than Mithrun]

[tablescraps]

( Mithrun's easy and light enough to haul up, but he wobbles forward, not totally supporting his own weight, half hunched and bent-kneed, as if he might melt down into the floor again.

Despite this, he doesn't protest Sinclair pulling him up. )

... I'm fine where I am. But I'm trying to listen. Is that a problem?

[insinning]

[He'll grab Mithrun by the shoulders to hold him upright. He doesn't like this]

It's a problem when you're acting like you're dead...are you sick or something?

[tablescraps]

( limp, slack, )

... I don't know. I feel fine. It's just been like this, lately.

[insinning]

...I really hate seeing you like this. I thought you were done with that. Letting other people move you as they pleased.

[Stop, stop. Stand up taller. Show that strength that drew Sinclair to you]

[tablescraps]

... Aren't you doing that right now?

( Not accusatory - just a vague remark, his gaze fallen to where Sinclair has taken him up. )

[insinning]

I am. I wish you could push me away if you wanted to. [ Firm, sharp] But I'm scared now. If I let go, will you choose to stand? Or will you fall over again?

[tablescraps]

... I don't really want anything right now.

( Probablt... he'd fall, he thinks. But slowly his gaze traces from Sinclair's hands up his arms to his face.

... )

... But... I don't want to scare you.

( Very slightly, there seems to be a flicker of life in his eyes. )

[insinning]

[ Ah. That...He swallows ]

I'm scared right now. So stand. And walk. All on your own.

[If he lets go, will Mithrun fall?]

[tablescraps]

( ...

He is quiet, for a time. And then, Sinclair may feel the slightest impulse of movement - a jerk, and a shift. Mithrun grasping, vaguely, to take Sinclair's arms by each hand, as support - and he tries, though faltering, to stand.

He manages, gradually. It's not enough desire to keep him moving often the way revenge was, but it's enough to get him up on his feet right now. Despite all his misgivings, he does love Sinclair.

He's still using Sinclair's arms for support, his stand a little shaky, but he seems to be looking at his grip on Sinclair - expecting Sinclair to step away so he can try it on his own. He's trying - that's something, right? )

[insinning]

[For a moment, he had been afraid it wouldn't be enough. But then Mithrun is moving. Standing. So Sinclair takes a deep breath and pulls away]

...I wont let you fall.

[So, keep standing and walk ]

[tablescraps]

( Ah...

Vaguely, he nods. )

... Okay.

( It won't be easy, but... for Sinclair, he'll try. )

[insinning]

[Sinclair smiles, open and relieved. He takes a few more steps back and waits.

Of course it wont be easy. But he believes in Mithrun]

[tablescraps]

( There's a bit of a fumble when Sinclair first steps back - like his legs might give way, but - he keeps himself up. Not incredibly alert, not standing tall - but it's something.

He turns his gaze to Sinclair.

Then, he approaches him - a few steps forward, all on his own. )

... Better?

( Not scared? )

[insinning]

[Something like tension eases out of Sinclair's shoulders and he nods. He's still worried. But he thinks--he thinks Mithrun never needed hatred to motivate himself. All he needed was ----]

Yeah. Better. So much better.

[tablescraps]

( Though he doesn't realize it, a faint smile curves his lips. )

... I'll keep standing, then. I can try.

[insinning]

[Ah. Mithrun gets a big shining smile in turn. It's enough]