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Entry tags:
.:First Party Run, Recreational Runs & More:. [closed]
Who ⬤ Ganymede and Co.
What ⬤ Dungeon-crawlin', exploring, talking with people. What can go wrong?
Now featuring some potentially cw-worthy memshares, or content involving that.
When ⬤ Following first meetings, and anything related to the below subjects.
Where ⬤ Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast, ΔHidden Forbidden Holy Ground, Root Towns
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drunken behavior.
Further mentions and displays of captivity, kidnapping, stalking, and subjects relating to suicide.
[ Following some enlightening discussions that have more or less blossomed into actual plans, an unlikely band of four adventurers assemble!
Names added to friends' lists, details hashed out, which means one thing and one thing only, that the next point some adventuring is happening. Though, given that it is everyone's (probable?) first time, it seems that there is no way for anybody to choose specific places or areas they might like!
Thankfully, that's what the random Area Exploration mechanic is for.
Ganymede steps forward, and just decides to select a perfect set of coordinates for everyone...
...Not! As if even he can be decisive at this point. He lets everyone know that these are the keywords they'll be working with. "Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast", that is.
So once the Chaos Gate is utilized for them to all cross over...
Welcome to the wonderful location of Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast! Apparently it's an area that has a rocky desert-like appearance that stretches out for miles on end. Not to mention, there is a wonderful-looking flesh wall that is the proper beginning of the dungeon crawling, and entry point into the actual dungeon that is bound to be teeming with treasure and creatures.
But, they're not inside that wall as of yet. ]
RESULTS: Can be viewed here, for our reference!
What ⬤ Dungeon-crawlin', exploring, talking with people. What can go wrong?
Now featuring some potentially cw-worthy memshares, or content involving that.
When ⬤ Following first meetings, and anything related to the below subjects.
Where ⬤ Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast, ΔHidden Forbidden Holy Ground, Root Towns
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drunken behavior.
Further mentions and displays of captivity, kidnapping, stalking, and subjects relating to suicide.
[ Following some enlightening discussions that have more or less blossomed into actual plans, an unlikely band of four adventurers assemble!
Names added to friends' lists, details hashed out, which means one thing and one thing only, that the next point some adventuring is happening. Though, given that it is everyone's (probable?) first time, it seems that there is no way for anybody to choose specific places or areas they might like!
Thankfully, that's what the random Area Exploration mechanic is for.
Ganymede steps forward, and just decides to select a perfect set of coordinates for everyone...
...Not! As if even he can be decisive at this point. He lets everyone know that these are the keywords they'll be working with. "Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast", that is.
So once the Chaos Gate is utilized for them to all cross over...
Welcome to the wonderful location of Coiling Friend's Tiny Beast! Apparently it's an area that has a rocky desert-like appearance that stretches out for miles on end. Not to mention, there is a wonderful-looking flesh wall that is the proper beginning of the dungeon crawling, and entry point into the actual dungeon that is bound to be teeming with treasure and creatures.
But, they're not inside that wall as of yet. ]
RESULTS: Can be viewed here, for our reference!
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...With their experiences? Not so much. But, it seems that they're getting through it just fine so far. Emphasis on "so far", as that comes into play when he hears the other male beside him suddenly halt in his speaking.
The blond feels also the tightening group and whips his head in Michel's direction. ]
Winter...?
[ But then he follows the gaze. Easy to do so at the sudden stop. What does he happen to glimpse when he looks, unable to let go of that boundless curiosity, even now? ]
1/2 cw: violence, captivity, dehumanization
It's yours, although there's no comfort in that thought. Its very familiarity makes it dismal now; almost no light shines on the rich furnishings or the plush carpets. The windows have been boarded up sometime in the long months of your "illness." No light comes in -- and you can't get out. You've tried until your hands bled.
You aren't trying today, because you've been left tied, hands and feet. It's too tight, because Aimee has the careless cruelty of someone who's never experienced a moment of hardship herself. And you're too weak to tear yourself free. You've never been strong, but you're emaciated now; it's laughably easy to count each of your ribs, and at times she has, her soft fingers tapping gently and then clawing, gouging.
Her footsteps approaching set your heart racing with panic and rage. You know they're hers because no one else comes here. Not your mother. Certainly neither of your brothers. At this point, you would maybe welcome even your father. But it's her, smiling sweetly from the doorway as she lets herself in and sets the tray down on the floor.
"...What's the matter, Michel? Your food's right there. It's going to get cold. Go on, eat. But no using your hands. Crawl over and use your mouth."
She's smiling even now. She believes you'll do it. (And of course she believes this; she's seen you lap water from the ground in desperation, after a week without it. She's already seen how fragile your humanity is, and you despise her for it.)
You've never wanted to hurt anyone before, wanted them dead before. You do now. If she wants to make a dog of you, then so be it. You lurch for her and your teeth close around her wrist until the taste of her blood floods your mouth. Revolting. You want to vomit, but you won't let yourself let go. You'll bite down harder, gnaw through to the bone, rip the hand from her wrist...
"Let go!"
The first kick lands in your gut, knocking you free. The second, before you can recover. Then one after another as you try to curl yourself up, unable to shield your chest, your legs, your face, anything at all. Until despite yourself, you can hear your choked voice trying to ask her to stop, pain overcoming loathing in the haze of your desperation. It doesn't stop. It never stops. And even unconsciousness is only the most temporary reprieve. ]
2/2
Michel draws in a shuddering breath, unaware of how tightly his fingers have come to clutch at Ganymede's hand. He lets go abruptly as he snaps a sidelong look at him -- at Ganymede's wide, open eyes. ]
Did you look-- did you see?
[ Perhaps the wild look in his eyes isn't so unfamiliar to Ganymede from a moment ago. ]
cw: emeto mention
But, to Ganymede, curiosity is a beast untamed—even if he tried, he doesn't think he is able to do anything to reign it in. With each passing moment and thought that runs through his head due to experiencing the memory, the horrors keep piling on. The image of restraints in a singular place familiar, the idea that someone's captor would not
Still, he knows for certain he never looked like that—never was treated like an animal, even if he never would wish captivity as a fate on anyone. The casual cruelty has a sound catch in his throat. It makes him want to puke, and he understands that hatred. Even if it isn't his own originally—it is now.
Then, what follows those words in the memory, and the subsequent beating. There is nothing he has in his own mind to put it all into words, a startled wetness briefly flowing down his cheeks.
When it's over, the flare of ferocity in Michel is a mirror. ]
Y...Yes, I did. All of it.
[ There is still a ground underneath them. They're still alive—he can say that they should log out. But, he can't manage it.
Does he reach for him? He doesn't know. Only that he doesn't want Michel to face it alone, because the man didn't leave him be either. He can also reach for that hand that gripped his tightly, take imitative in reaching to take it back in his, though he never has done that.
So, he settles for a compromise. After hesitating, he instead holds a hand out to him, hand unsteady. ]
We should still go together.
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He never wanted anyone to see that. He didn't want Ganymede to see that. Those tears, when Ganymede hadn't even cried for himself earlier, are pity salting a wound that never truly healed. He wants to take that back. He wants to run. If, even here, he can't become someone different... if he'll never leave behind the shadow of the frail child who cried and cowered and couldn't do a damned thing— ]
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Who... was it, exactly, who'd said it so confidently not a few minutes ago? "I'll guide you. Don't let go of my hand." And yet here he is, cowering again, as though he would bolt from the slightest scare.
He isn't the only one who's seen horrible things. Revisited moments in his life he wanted to shut away for good. And Ganymede is still here, trying to calm him down, with his own wounds still more fresh and worse by far.
Michel finally draws in a deep breath and reaches out to take that hand. His fingers, when they curl around Ganymede's, are firm and gentle. He gives him a tiny tug to resume pulling him towards the exit in silence. It's a long pause before he can find any words of his own, his voice as rough as his grip is careful. ]
...We're nearly there.
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He can't posture that he's over it. That none of it affected him.
But, he isn't so selfish as he wished he might be. ]
We...we should submit a complaint.
[ The blond says, his voice tight, not as steady as he'd like it to be but by god there sure is an effort.
...Though, finally, light hits them. They're free from that. Still, his hand is holding on tightly to Michel's hand, like he doesn't want to let go. He will also chance another look, towards his face. ]
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His expression is back to its more customary stoicism, at least, although in the bright light Ganymede may be able to see how flimsy that shell really is. Michel still trades a slow look of consideration as he studies Ganymede's face in return. ]
I wonder if that was really unintended.
[ No matter the means, it wouldn't be something that could have been added without a considerable amount of effort. Michel focuses himself on the logic of it for the moment. On what he had seen from Ganymede, on how unsteady he looks now. But his stare is a little too intent as if scanning Ganymede's eyes for any sign that he sees him differently now. ]
Who did you send your report to last time, after the cathedral?
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The flimsy mask has cracks, of which he can see. The tired stoicism isn't exactly an unfamiliar image. Though, the face it's shown upon is far different—his own eyes are still wet, a little unfocused. ]
I doubt it.
As for who I sent my report to...that would be Zelkova. He's reliable, so—you can send one to him too. He'll take it seriously.
[ Ganymede only appears to be unbalanced and maybe a little lost upon closer examination. He doesn't seem able to summon any sort of shaky mask like Michel—he never really was originally the stoic type. He's always been expressive, even in moody silence. He catches the other male searching...and wonders something—a thought that pokes through the fog.
But, he only manages his question, not finished as this: ]
...Winter?
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[ Ganymede's expression is open, honest as always. Equally earnest in his concern as in his distress. It... hurts. Especially after seeing that memory, the pain beyond words of what Ganymede has been through. Michel half lifts his free hand as if to wipe the last of the traces of those tears, but falters in his uncertainty, compromising by shuffling sideways just a little. If nothing else he can use his taller frame to shield Ganymede from sight if anyone else passes by.
He hates the lingering sense of wariness and unease pressing down on him, dread lurking like an unwelcome distraction at the corner of his thoughts. How much had Ganymede taken in or understood of that memory? Without context, what would he infer? Michel still feels ill at the thought, jumpy in his own skin at each lingering glance and unfinished question.
But he's unwilling to leave Ganymede like this, either. If he needs to run, he can run at any time. Simply log out. He's not trapped. He won't abandon Ganymede in his cowardice just yet. ]
...There are better places to speak than this. Let's go somewhere quiet.
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Leaving themselves with their own thoughts after that...it's not something Ganymede can abide—for his own personal reasons. Before, he thinks he could. But the circumstances make the idea untenable—far more difficult for him to desire retreat. He silently blinks, and nods. ]
...What about one of those guilds?
[ He has since joined one of those and they have a 'home' area. If there is anyone, they can consider other options, but at least Ganymede presented a possibility. ]
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To yours, then. Let's go.
[ He's probably also joined Fine Wine by now, so either of their rooms will do. Michel is quiet as he steers them that way, his gaze focused on the crowd more than Ganymede with a kind of reflexive vigilance. With any luck the 'home' area is empty. Michel likes Fai well enough to join his guild, but that doesn't mean he wants any questioning looks from others right now. ]
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But, by the time they manage to step into Fine Wine, it is clear that, fortunately, the home area is empty. What luck! ]
...It looks like it's just us, Michel.
[ Which is why he uses his real name here, and he's looking up at him, expression looking a little tired. His other hand then reaches to rest against the other's hand; more touch like this grounds him, even when his other is already gripping Michel's. ]
Seeing what I had today, I never knew that happened to you...or that we might have gone through similar things.
[ He means them being trapped against their will. Though, as he speaks, it doesn't feel like he's centered; far too off-balance still. ]
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The memory was just a fragment. So many words Ganymede hadn't been privy to are still ringing in his own thoughts. If Ganymede heard, he might change his mind just as quickly: this touch, this consolation is a gift intended for Winter, the person Ganymede thinks he is, even if he uses Michel's name instead now.
Still. Michel curls his fingers hesitantly against Ganymede's in cautious acknowledgment. ]
I never intended to compare the two.
[ No persuasion would have dragged his own circumstances from him, honestly. He swallows, fumbling for words as he looks down at Ganymede. "What could you possibly have to say, after all that," indeed. ]
That... was Ilus, wasn't it? I'm sorry.
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Ah, well. He can feel the slight movement of fingers against his own. ]
...I'm not surprised you'd say that.
[ The world is full of unknowns and questionable things. People, of course, are always the most suspicious element of them all. That woman who hurt Michel is one of those elements.
When he apologizes, he thinks its entirely unnecessary, but gives the hand a gentle squeeze anyway. ]
Ilus never wanted to die, of course. But, I think in the end, he would have chosen to do the same even if the event repeated itself, and he was alive at the beginning of it. [ He says, feeling bitter about it still. ] Still, he was able to be there, to do his best to protect me, so that I wouldn't face it alone. Sometimes, I imagine I can be satisfied imagining that is enough.
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Michel doesn't have hopes or expectations from others. He doesn't want to be understood anymore. So why does he feel a thread of strange, guilty relief to share this twisted commonality? He gives Ganymede's hands a light tug to begin steering him back to a private room. ]
So it appeared to me. Your brother loved you, deeply.
[ Did that mitigate the pain of it, knowing that Ilus had died making a choice he would have chosen and chosen again? He doubts it. None of that will give Ganymede his brother back, or those four years back. Michel's hold on his hands tightens slightly. ]
He might be satisfied with that. And you? What about when that isn't enough?
[ Because he hears the weight of that "sometimes." Michel raises his gaze to Ganymede's face again. He doesn't seem in danger of tears now -- from Michel's experience, that's hardly reassuring. He doesn't know what to do with either, but the quiet beyond tears may be more delicate still. ]
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He feels it's certain. That even in the rotten world out there, his brother cared. There is a place in Heaven for him—where those other men will not join. ]
I don't know. The world doesn't stop turning, even when people are cruel to you, and even when their actions have changed how you see it all forever. Even if I stopped moving, that fact wouldn't change. On those days, I can only try to force myself to have the wherewithal not to let it hold me back.
[ That he doesn't slip back into that state he was when he was in the hospital, recovering, after his escape. Even when he had managed to achieve freedom. He still would much rather prefer he has already gotten over it, but that is impossible to act like that in front of Michel. In retrospect, there's a burning question in his throat still, even if it might make things harder. Far more difficult. But, with their hands held tightly together, he has to ask anyway, even if it comes out clumsy. ]
...What about you?
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Ganymede is strong. Stubborn... but not brittle. The reassurance to a question Michel hadn't fully realized he was asking is like a single ray of sunlight slipping through the cloud cover, and Michel gives him a tiny smile. ]
I agree with the sentiment. I'm... glad to hear it.
[ It's too weak a word for it. But even that admission isn't easy, although the itch of discomfort he expects to feel at admitting to such a blatant emotion doesn't come. It's still a risk; these small cracks in the wall he'd built so painstakingly would admit a flood if they caused the rest to crumble completely. ]
What about me?
[ Opening the question to clarification might take it in a direction he doesn't want to answer, he realizes a moment too late. ]
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He only wishes where he would venture next wouldn't be the reason for the disappearance of the smile. But, Ganymede isn't going to change his mind and decide to come up with a poor lie that 'it was nothing' or anything like that. ]
I saw what you experienced. It must have hurt. I know it did.
So, I wondered, if you had thought the same, like I did. That there were times when other motivations didn't feel like enough. And now that something so painful had revealed itself again to you, you couldn't pretend that nothing had gone amiss. That the world hadn't hurt you.
Because you were stronger than before. Because you could stand on your own feet, strong and alone, with no vulnerabilities.
...Did you?
idk whether this roll was a success or not; cw: suicidal ideation
It had hurt. Deeply. Constantly. But the idea that Ganymede thinks he's stronger now, spiked with the bitter knowledge that he's hardly changed at all, draws a brief, humorless laugh from him.
Strong enough to stand on his own feet? Isn't it only that he's too tired even to die? ]
There is no way to live in the world without vulnerabilities. If you feel, you can be hurt.
[ The words are too harsh. He can't say that to Ganymede after what they've just seen of each other. He doesn't want the darkness that still has its claws sunk into him all the way to his bones to reach out for Ganymede. He draws in a deeper breath, then another, his hands grasping Ganymede's more tightly again.
It hurts to disillusion Ganymede about him, too. But Michel is a terrible liar. He's fought against it for too long for it to come naturally now. Can he at least lie to himself, that he can act out Ganymede's image of him until he could truthfully live up to it? ]
I don't know what I can tell you. The world continues to move, and I am simply waiting. But while anything remains of my spirit, I will wait. That... is the sum total of the courage I possess.
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But, regardless of all these things...he knows one thing:
He's come to know the other man just a bit, and he thinks, well. He might actually have started to consider him someone he can count on. Michel let him lean on him, so maybe he is beginning to want to do the same for him. He doesn't quite understand the particulars, but he thinks...maybe that part of him has been that way even before now. Appreciating his presence bit by bit, even if before, Ganymede has pretended he didn't. And, well, that he cares about him a little too. That might be the most important part of it all.
This warmth he feels in their hands, when they're close by...he wants Michel to feel a bit of it too. Setting aside those thoughts, he begins to speak again. ]
Tell me just what is on your mind, if you're able. It's all I ask. [ And as far as Ganymede can tell, he has. So, he closes his eyes for a bit. ] Alright. While you're waiting, I hope you're prepared for me to drag you along at times. You already know more about me than most people, so it's only fair.
[ Then he opens them, eyes gazing at Michel softly, fingers still gripping tightly, feeling nervous because in his heart of hearts, he realizes quickly he never has comforted people much. If at all. Or had the opportunity to be there for people...how could he have? When he was a mess for so long. Still is one. ]
...And I'll let you know, that you can count on me too whenever. Including if you ever feel that courage of yours run out.
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He looks down at their joined hands as if seeing them for the first time. When is the last time he touched anyone for this long? That anyone wanted to touch him? He brushes his thumb lightly over Ganymede's knuckles; if this were in real life, it would be to convince himself of the presence of the moment, but none of this is real at all. ]
Why... do you want to go to so much trouble for me? Because I know something of your circumstances?
[ It's not enough of a reason. But he can't feel as suspicious as he usually would, either. What conceivable benefit could Ganymede find to all this? If there was one, perhaps he would deserve it for his pains. ]
I don't have a warm personality. It can't be pleasant to be around someone who doesn't have the least idea how to be considerate or tactful. I'm likely to ask all kinds of unwelcome questions. [ And, with the momentum of this outburst of confessions, a little defiantly: ] And what if I want to hear what's on your mind as well?
[ Would it be alright? Would it be enough? He's not hoping for someone who understands him. But to have one person... to have a friend who for some reason enjoys his company -- someone he can be there for in turn -- would that be too much to hope for? Hope is poisonous, and yet. For more than ten years he's still been waiting.
To hear that he can turn to Ganymede if his courage ever falters again... the warmth of that is like a conflagration. Like touching a flame. Like sunlight. ]
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It honestly scares him, just a bit. ]
Because I want to. Obviously, the fact you're not a stranger, and know about my circumstances would factor into it.
There's nothing wrong with that, is there? I'd already hardly minded your company even before you saw something I would have rather you'd not. Prefer it, at times. Examine your own actions as well...those have meant something to me.
[ He truly likes being around Michel, enjoys his company, and the sound of his voice. The fact the other man has sought him out, worried about him, and shown all the warmth he thinks he's incapable of. Even if those thoughts are a part of the revelation that is startling because he'd hope to never attribute any sort of favor towards anyone. That is just asking for them to be put into a position of power to do as they please, should they discover it. But, Michel's different from everyone else. Even the fact that he saw what he looked like doesn't terrify him. ]
Warmth isn't just in a personality. And, I'll ask you all the unwelcome questions in the world, so it's only fair. [ ... ] I'm not like people who think that it'd be perfect to meet others half-way. If you ask me what I think, I won't hide it from you.
[ So ridiculous, navigating uncharted waters. But what can he do but desire to continue along these waves? No matter the turbulent storm. ]
no subject
I... I don't mind your company, either.
[ He doesn't know what actions Ganymede could even mean. He's scarcely done anything. But... maybe it's acceptable to let that stand as it is, too. The tension in Ganymede's expression right now is such a welcome echo of his own emotional state that he feels a little more of his own fear evaporate. ]
If you wish to talk about any of it, I can listen.
[ He doesn't want to talk about his. But Ganymede had said before that the feelings seemed to fester when he held them in; maybe this is something he can do for him. He won't ask any of the many things he's wondering until Ganymede volunteers it -- what had happened during that time in captivity, how he was freed. Even knowing that would hardly tell him anything about the shape of the scars left behind.
There are other things he wants to ask that would tell him just as little. How Ganymede found a goal again after all that. What drew him to it. What his family thought of it. What it was like... ]
no subject
His heart traitorously beats a bit more with a skip when the other male states that he doesn't mind his company at all. ]
You would.
You've said you weren't all that warm at all. But, the act of volunteering your ear, the fact you're holding my hands so securely...that you haven't run away from me makes me think that you're not as cold as you imagine yourself to be.
[ ...He goes this way instead. He then steps closer, and leans his head lightly against the other man's chest, eyes closing. ]
I could talk about it. About every single bit of misfortune that has lead up to here. But, it still hurts. [ Ganymede admits through gritted teeth, hidden because of where he has his head now. ] I'd rather you hold me for a bit instead, just like before. Even if last time I know...it was only because it was an accident.
[ It's unreasonable for him to say that. He knows it. ]
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same expression in icons ftw
FJKLDSFJS MATCHIES...
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