hadriel_logs | You can recover.

Entry tags:

You can recover.

Who: Glacius and whoever; open and closed starters within.
What: After a couple of weeks of mourning and attempting to heal, Glacius attempts to reintegrate into life in the city.
Where: Various locations-- Guard headquarters, Emily's shop, Glacius' apartment
When: 12/4, 12/8
Warnings: Talk of physical/emotional trauma.

City Streets OR Guard Headquarters - OPEN

It had been some time since a demon had possessed Emily, and Glacius had not been faring well since. The violent act that he'd been forced to commit to end that conflict--plus the scarring that had resulted from his injuries, a permanent reminder of his failure to his friends-- meant that he'd spent every day since in a wavering state of emotional and physical stability. He'd always been a reclusive creature, but now he rarely ventured outside of his apartment... and if he did it was almost always at odd hours of the night, when he was sure most people would have already retired. It wasn't as if he had been sleeping well as of late.

The only thing keeping him from sinking completely into the mire of his depression were the daily visits by Carlisle, who saw to the alien's wounds and helped him grapple with his demons when it was needed. Little by little, the alien had been taking heart from the clergyman's unwavering support... and he knew that eventually, he was going to have to start putting his life back together. He still had a duty to the guard, and to his friends... though how many of them would even consider themselves that after hearing of what had done, he wasn't sure. He would have to find out at some point, but right now all he felt capable of doing as slowly edging himself back into his duties and familiar old routines.

That meant that today, at the crack of dawn, the alien was up--and after donning the partial set of armor he now possessed in order to cover the worst of his scarring, headed out to resume his patrols. After that he spent most of the day at the Guard's headquarters, doing his best to catch up on on paperwork and reports that had piled up in his absence. That sort of busywork proved a suitable distraction for the alien at least, giving him something concrete to fixate on instead of his own worries. He double checked and then triple-checked his work, then spent time making sure everything was neatly filed and organized. He spent some time cleaning up the desk he'd been assigned and then, finding himself still wanting for things to do, read through the reports of other members--even going so far as to fill in where he could or re-organize the ones that clearly didn't have any effort put into them. The whole time he worked quietly, expression still masked behind his alien helmet, only engaging in conversation when he was approached--and even then it was more clipped than he usually was. At least they weren't in the middle of the gods' games--it meant that the office was fairly quiet, and very few people came or went.

Emily's Lakeside Shop- CLOSED to Emily

Eventually Glacius exhausted everything he could possibly do, and at that point he decided to head back to his apartment... he was weary anyways from his poor sleep, and it meant that his personal troubles caught up to him easier. The odd light of the cave was waning as he crossed the bridge that would take him back to Spire Two, where he currently resided... but just beyond that sat the shewing shop where he knew one of his friends worked, and the alien found himself frozen in place as he stared at the establishment in the distance, thinking of her. A part of him longed to reconnect to Emily, knew that a good friend probably would have gone to see her by now, to make sure she was holding up alright... but the last time she had been through something this cave had put her through, she hadn't wanted to talk to him about it. He could imagine she would want that even less now, given that he had a direct hand in her fate. She was probably better off without him, in all honesty.

... And yet nonetheless, he couldn't resist the urge to at least see if she was there. He didn't have to engage her, he told himself--he could just look in one of the windows, and make sure that she had been brought back, that she was alive and well. Glacius crept quietly towards the sewing shop, but when he was actually its grounds he found himself frozen again. The powerful mixture of emotions he'd felt earlier was roiling around himself full-force now... he wasn't sure how long he stood there staring, but he knew he'd fucked up when the door to the shop opened suddenly and warm light spilled out from inside the building to cut through the falling darkness--illuminating not only the path, but the armor-clad ice alien standing in it, immobilized by his uncertainty.

Glacius' Apartment, forward-dated to the 8th- CLOSED to Carlisle

It had been two weeks since the disastrous events that had sent Glacius into a downward spiral, and just a few days since the alien had begun trying to put his life back together. He'd managed to slide back into his old duties fairly seamlessly thanks to the distractions and sense of purpose they provided--though being seen by others was still somewhat difficult for him, thanks to lingering self-doubts and self-consciousness due to his scars, which he was still trying to keep concealed from most people. He'd at least managed to reconnect with those closest to him, and that had done a lot to make him feel like a person again, not just a monster hiding himself away completely for fear of what people might think of him.

And there was one person in particular that he had become close to, whose intervention and support had enabled the ice alien to even make these strides in the first place. Tonight Glacius wanted to make an active effort to show his appreciation for Carlisle's ceaseless efforts. He departed from the City Guard's headquarters a little bit earlier than usual so that he could stop by the shops and the bar for food and drink, respectively. Then he was back at his apartment, trying to have everything set up by the time the clergyman usually came by to check on him, and see how his injuries were healing. Looking over the spread he'd set out over a low table in the main room of his apartment, Glacius became acutely aware that he'd never made a gesture like this for a human before. There was a high chance he was going to fuck it up, and that nervousness was gnawing at his guts as he waited for his friend to show up... but if he could manage to show his appreciation for everything that Carlisle had done for him, and give him one night in which he could relax instead of worrying over him and whatever else he might currently be going through, then that would be worth it.

In the meantime the otherworldly being busied himself trying to clean up some of the lingering blood stains in his apartment, working distractedly until he was startled from his task that tell-tale knocking at his door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Though two weeks have given Carlisle ample time to recover from both his magical fatigue and physical wounds -- and even get his clothing repaired so he's not walking around with horrendous tears in his clerical outfit -- it's the invisible wounds that still plague him from time to time. He's spoken to Emily, yet still feels he failed her, as his botched exorcism is the reason she was killed. He's contacted Chris, hoping to get a handle on his aural compulsion, but the mere thought of using such an ability purposefully makes his stomach turn. He's not just to nudge someone in one direction or another for his defense, but completely dominating a man's will for the sake of practice.

At least his efforts with Glacius are going better than expected. When he failed Emily, he in turn failed Glacius; the alien was forced to put an end to her to defend him. Him, of all people -- a member of clergy and one who should have been perfectly capable against a demon.

But he wasn't, as usual, and Glacius had been forced to step in. The act had wounded the gentle alien far more than the gruesome injuries he sustained during the fight. As Carlisle has been visiting the alien on a daily basis during the past couple of weeks to change his dressings -- sometimes remaining at his apartment overnight, just so he didn't have to trek home and put further stress on his own lacerations -- they've both been working on their guilt, using their personal experiences to commiserate with one another, to help each other understand and cope with their trauma. As it turns out, they have more than a few things in common. While he knew that to be true with Algidus, Carlisle has been surprised to find that the same goes for Glacius. Both the clergyman and the ice alien have a legacy to uphold, a lineage to honor; they have floundered in that regard, and are having to find ways to rectify it. The are worried their mistakes define them, and insist the other is not the monster he believes himself to be.

How one could suffer so much, yet turn out so benevolent and forgiving, is still a mystery to him. Carlisle insists he doesn't deserve such kindness. Of course, Glacius believes that about himself. Commonalities, indeed.

Leaving the house he shares with Kate and Faith (and Crow, apparently) after feeding his (still nameless) pet rabbit (?), Carlisle makes his way over to the clinic before heading to Glacius' abode. He picks up a few supplies, mostly things to replenish what he's been using from Glacius' own stock -- it's something he's been meaning to do, but just never had the energy for it. As he waits at the door after knocking, he straightens his jacket from under the box of provisions he's carrying: while he's got his repaired tabard on, beneath it he's wearing black coveralls rather than his usual jacket and pants. This clerical vestments could stand some additional reinforcing in certain areas, and this was the closest thing he could find in the stores to what he normally wears. He prefers blue, but it will have to do for his daily checkup on his alien friend.

But there's more that he isn't expecting waiting beyond the door.

It's all of these commonalities that Carlisle is dwelling on that have deepend the ice alien's appreciation, and lead to him attempting what he is tonight. The alien is still busily cleaning while the clergyman makes his approach, wanting everything to be as presentable as possible for his friend; the good thing about the unique makeup of Glacius' blood is that it doesn't take quite as much work to get out of things. The bad thing is that he can bleed a lot, and the sheer amount of it covering everything after he stumbled back to his apartment during that first, miserable night and had collapsed without seeing to his wounds means he's going to be doing quite a lot of hard scrubbing, regardless. His tendency as of late to get laser-focused on one task in an attempt to drown out his misgivings or self-doubt has seized him once again--he's trying to focus solely on the task of cleaning so he doesn't have time to think about any of the various ways his attempt to show his appreciation could go wrong, be it by being too forward, or saying the wrong thing, or... or anything else.

This intense focus means that, though he's expecting Carlisle in the back of his mind, he's completely taken off guard when he actually hears the knocking at the door. Glacius startles upright, accidentally clunking his face against the edge of the table as he moves--Carlisle will be able to hear that from his side of the door, plus a harsh burst of clicking in the alien's native tongue that may or may not be vehement cursing. There's a moment of silence as the otherworldly being attempts to regain his composure--flustered already, he's off to a great start-- and then the door clicks open a crack to reveal one glowing green eye. Seeing that it is, in fact, the human he's been expecting, Glacius opens the door wider and steps back to allow his friend inside.

"Carlisle. I am glad you could make it. How have you been, today?" the ice alien asks, closing the door neatly behind them--trying to act completely nonchalant about the spread of food and drink he's laid out in the main room, that is by now probably completely visible to the clergyman.

Though that clunk from beyond the door certainly did get Carlisle's attention, he's relieved to see Glacius is more or less unharmed by the time he comes to the door. The last thing either of them needs is more injuries. "I'm well enough," he answers, stepping inside. "I see you've been..."

He trails off, noticing the lack of blood stains and the table full of food. "What is it you've been doing, exactly?" he asks, casting Glacius with a puzzled look.

"I--" Glacius starts, cutting himself off as his operculum catch. Coughing and fluttering them all in a rhythm, he tries again: "...It's... for you. You've been working, ah, so hard for me lately, what with my injury and my heavy personal woes, a-and..."

The alien's voice had been wavering so much as his thankfulness for the aforementioned effort collides against his worries that he might mess this up somehow, but he believes for certain what he says next... so when he continues, his tone is calmer and more composed, closer to what one might typically expect of him. "You deserve a chance to relax. You deserve to know that everything you've done has not gone unnoticed, that you are appreciated... I wanted to show my appreciation to you, Carlisle. We've both been through a lot recently, have uncovered certain points of understanding and solidarity... and so I thought a night where we could simply sit back and enjoy some food and drink together without having to worry about anything might be... long overdue. Will you... will you join me?"

And now as he asks that last question, his voice is back to tentative again--though this time it's not from nervousness, but hopefulness.

His eyes flick from the room, where they'd been drawn once more, to Glacius, surprise alighting them. For him? All of that, for him?

Despite being cursed, he's been shown appreciation before for his work; much as his uncles and father were given gifts for their efforts, he's gotten a few in his time, rewards presented for a job well done. He hadn't been doing a job for Glacius -- it was simply a friend helping another friend, as he understood friends to do from time to time. He owed it to the alien, after all, as Glacius had saved his life, had kept an eye on him when he wouldn't even keep an eye on himself.

So he wasn't expecting such a gesture, and it shows as color blossoms on his face. "Oh," he replies simply. After all they've been through, an evening of relaxing doesn't sound too bad, if he's honest with himself. He could use it as much as Glacius could, and if there's one thing the alien's face tells him as he looks back upon it, it's that he worked hard for this. He deserves the night just as much as Carlisle does, if not more so.

He offers Glacius a soft smile, one brimming with gratitude. "I- I'd be honored, Glacius. Thank you."

Glacius' mandibles twitch nervously when all he gets, at first, is that simple and flat reply. This--it's too forward, it's got to be, or maybe Carlisle simply has no interest in spending time with him when their situations do not demand it. They are very different creatures, so he tells himself he shouldn't be surprised. The clergyman is probably just trying to find a way to turn him down gently, is all...

... But it turns out that's not what it is at all. Instead of refusal, Carlisle's features lift with genuine thankfulness, and the alien can't help but smile tentatively in return. He gestures now to the table, feeling slightly bolstered by the response. "Go ahead, then, sit. I... admittedly I do not know what all of this is, as it is very different from what my people usually eat. But hopefully there is something there that you will find to your liking."

"There's much in this city I'm not sure what is," he admits, "but I have yet to starve." And all of the strange food in Hadriel -- save for a time they were apparently fed human meat, and some of the rather questionable drinks he's found at the bar -- is preferable to months in the jungle with only scraps upon which to survive.

"Oh, I, um. Thought I should replenish the supplies I've used." He sets his box on the couch before heading to the table, bandages and bottles of disinfectant rattling inside. He even thought to shove a couple of bottles of water in there, just in case Glacius ever needed them to reconstitute his icy layer in a pinch.

"Oh..!" Glacius blinks in surprise, watching Carlisle set the box down on the couch. "Y-you didn't have to..." But the clergyman has, and the ice alien isn't about to turn aside those efforts. Instead he turns his focus from the box back to his friend and smiles, his cheekbones pulling up enough so that the flesh around his eyes crinkles up slightly. It doesn't last--the blows he took to the face mean that one of his cheekbones is slightly cracked, which is something he hadn't noticed until this very moment because... well, this is his first time since that dark ordeal that he's finally feeling genuinely happy enough for his expression to shift so noticeably. Glacius flinches, resisting the urge to rub at his face for fear of upsetting his bandages, but continues on.

"This is very generous of you, Carlisle. Thank you," the alien finishes, unable to keep the smile from his face, even though he does have to make an effort to temper it. "Knowing that you would do this for me, on top of everything else you have already done... now I am doubly glad that I did what I have, so that I can begin to repay some of your boundless kindness."

"You have no need to repay me," Carlisle insists, despite being an individual very much wrapped up in the amends he owes to people who don't even remember what he did to them in the first place. While he does owe Glacius his life, he's simply trying to make sure the alien's first aid supplies remain stocked. There's no telling when they may need them again.

He turns his attention to the dinner Glacius has prepared, his cheeks still flush with the thought that someone -- a friend, even -- went to all this trouble for him. "Ah, I've had these," he says as he beelines for the table, pointing out one of the dishes. "They're quite good, actually. They look a bit different, but the taste is akin to a traditional meal made by the Forest Folk that roughly translates into 'fish feet,' which doesn't particularly make sense, given that fish don't have..."

He trails off, feeling sheepish suddenly for his long-winded explanation. The idea of someone doing something so generous for him, only for him to ruin it, is getting to his nerves quickly. "Er, feet. Obviously. Sorry."

When Carlisle trails off, he'll see that he has no need to be sheepish. Glacius has come up beside him and is now scrutinizing the dish he's pointed out, listening to everything he's said. When the clergyman apologizes, the ice alien swivels his head on that long curving neck to face him again, and he blinks.

"For what? I am just happy that there's at least one thing on this table I know for sure you'll like, now. Please, serve yourself... and then, why don't you tell me more about your world? I have, for instance, never heard of 'Forest Folk' before..."

He smiles nervously as Glacius turns his attention to him, reflexes and social graces telling him to do so rather than genuine feeling; he relaxes a hair as the alien insists he talk more. If there's one thing he does do well, it's talk.

"Ah, well, um."

... He talks well sometimes. He clears his throat and tries again while attempting to sort out dinner party etiquette in the back of his mind. "The Forest Folk are a rather wide-spread people in my world, though they vary from place to place. Th- they stand about yay tall" —he gestures to a height around his waist— "and, ah. Are a bit like talking animals. But people."

Waist-high to Carlisle comes up even lower on the towering ice alien, and he pauses when he realizes that these "Forest Folk" would probably be roughly level with his crotch. Awkward. He'll focus on something else. "I--I see. So they are a collective species, then?"

Edited 2016-12-06 01:10 (UTC)

"Yes," Carlisle answers, having never thought about the unfortunate height of the Forest Folk and happy enough to continue living in his ignorance. "The Forest Folk who live near Bear Den are primarily kitten-kind, which is, um. Exactly what their name implies, actually."

Talking, pants-wearing kittens.

Sorry, Carlisle, but this is probably going to require a bit more explanation. Glacius tiltls his head entirely to one side, clicking his mandibles--his mandible, as he's painfully reminded when that shattered bone rubs up against the inside of a scab. He winces, then tosses his head as if something's bit him.

"Ah, I feel like you are expecting me to know this, but... well... what is a kitten?"

Carlisle goes from worried at Glacius' pained expression to puzzled. Oh, right. He is an alien, after all. He lets out a nervous laugh.

"Aheh, right. Well, they're fuzzy little things, with pointed ears and whiskers, and claws, and sometimes long, slender tails. They're often kept as pets in both my world and in others -- not the kitten-kind, but a smaller creature, very similar, that lacks any kind of comparable intellect. The kitten-kind bear a strong resemblance to those creatures, though it's up for debate whether or not their stories of how they came to be are true and that they are an evolved version of the same animal, touched by their god, who..."

Well, there he went again, filling every ounce of silence and uncertainty with words. He turns very red in that moment, unsure as to why he got so nervous in the first place. Perhaps it's because most people just tune him out, whereas Glacius seems very set on listening to him; perhaps it's because he's not used to talking about his home in any detail, and he's trying to cover any traces of homesickness. Either way, he trails off, averting his eyes.

"Right. Let's eat, how about?"

Edited 2016-12-06 01:38 (UTC)

Now it's Glacius' turn to look puzzled as Carlisle trails off, then ultimately changes the subject. He's not sure why he stopped... he seemed fairly knowledgeable on the subject, and the alien--curious as ever--had been enjoying hearing about another world, and the correlation it shared with others still. Perhaps the clergyman is similar to his people, and isn't use to discussing his culture or homeworld with others..?

"Of course. Go right ahead, and I will take some after you. But, ah, Carlisle..." the alien rubs the back of his head, feeling sheepish and nervous himself now. He wants very badly for this evening to continue going smoothly, and of course he is afraid of inadvertently saying the wrong thing and putting his friend off. "...You know it is never my intention to pry, right? If you don't want to talk to me about something, you don't have to. I just... we have spent so little time with one another when this cave and its gods aren't actively trying to torment us, somehow. I thought it might be nice to get to know you beyond your struggles. If I have offended you, I... sincerely apologize."

The clergyman goes from embarrassed to absolutely mortified, realizing that in his attempt to not ruin the evening with his incessant chattering, he is instead ruining the evening by making Glacius feel as though he has made a misstep. He anxiously tries to rectify his mistake, still not getting any food.

"No, no no no," he starts, words pouring from him faster than he can formulate sentences. "Glacius, it's not- it's not that. You're not prying, I swear it. I just- I- I'm trying to not make a mess of things after you went through all this trouble on my behalf, and most people aren't terribly interested in all of this about Forest Folk and their gods, but I thought that- you know, I don't... really know what I was thinking, other than that I'd just try to make conversation like someone who attends dinner parties and such."

He runs his hand down his face, feeling himself burn. So much for that.

Glacius blinks, trying to keep up with his friend going a mile a minute. He's at least fairly certain that he understands what he's trying to communicate, and he can't help but chuckle as yet one more thing that they have in common with one another is revealed.

"You know... ever since I set all this up, I've been worried about making a mess of things, too. I... I know our cultures can be very different, at times, and I wasn't sure if this would be too forward, or if I would manage to say the wrong thing and upset you... I just want so badly for this to be a good night for you!" The alien confesses, flexing his hands once or twice, as if it's a goal he could physically grasp. "Let's try to forget our worries. We're both friends, and if we haven't judged each other before, then we're not going to start now. I care about you, Carlisle, and I'm genuinely interested in what you have to say... but... at your own pace. Alright?"

A genuine grin replaces Carlisle's nervous one as he chuckles, trying to hold back outright laughter. "Yes, all right. I'd been so anxious to do things right that I never thought for a moment you'd be thinking the same."

It is funny, really -- though he probably should take greater care not to laugh at the icy giants. What happened last time he did was disastrous.

But Glacius is no Algidus, and so Carlisle finally obliges and picks up his plate, putting some of the dish he was talking about onto it. "You'll have to forgive me, as I am still finding out things about your people even now."

"We're both finding things out about each other... that's what this is about," Glacius responds, another careful grin settling over his features. He's feeling heartened by the clergyman's good humor, and by the fact that he's finally taking him up on his offer to eat!

"Anyways, does that mean I should return the favor for you..? Very well. Let us sit, and then you may ask me about my life, or my world... I think it is only fair, no?"

"I suppose," he replies lightly, sliding into a seat. "I'm afraid I don't really know what to ask, now that I'm on the spot, but I'm sure I'll think of something."

He usually does have questions, though they come up at the worst of times. "I could keep talking, I suppose. Where, ah. Where was I?"

"Forest folk, 'kitten'-kind," Glacius replies, only briefly grappling with the unfamiliar term, "... And the discussion over the origins of the latter. Really, though, you can talk about whatever you like. Would you like me to pour you a drink? I don't know much about human oral structures, but I imagine speaking for an extended period of time could be thirsty work."

"Oh, yes please."

He sits quietly for a second, wondering if he should pick up where he left off, or talk about something new. He decides to explain some of his nerves -- perhaps talking through them will give him some comfort.

"I've never been invited to dinner in this kind of capacity before," he admits. "Usually, when you invite a cleric over, it's not for good reasons."

Glacius nods, carefully placing a glass (that seems almost distressingly small in his great white hands) before Carlisle, then picking up one of the various bottles to fill it for him. The alien doesn't know a thing about human liquor, and given that he doesn't taste he has no idea which drink pairs best with what they're eating... but hopefully this will prove acceptable.

Pulling back once his friend's glass is filled, the ice alien does the same for himself and then sets the bottle down, resting back on his haunches before pulling himself into a neat, cross-legged sit by the table. He wouldn't have expected that the clergyman had never been invited to an occasion like this, for his job or otherwise, but he decides not to voice that surprise aloud because he doesn't want to draw attention to the isolation that the man had previously suffered. Instead he folds his hands in his lap and focuses on something else that Carlisle has said.

"I wouldn't have guessed, given that I'm not entirely sure what a cleric is. I mean--I know that's what you are," Glacius clarifies, gesturing briefly, "But the term is specific to your culture. What sort of duties do you perform, outside of healing and listening when you are needed?"

Edited 2016-12-06 22:37 (UTC)

"Right," Carlisle utters. At least all this explanation gives him an excuse to talk so his mind isn't so cluttered with thoughts about his own apprehension. "As clergy in the service of the Clarity, the primary reason I may be called on a home visit is to serve the dying their last rites."

Which is likely what he meant by 'not for good reasons.'

"I occasionally get to marry people, but weddings were not a common occurrence in our village. Small town, you see."

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