hadriel_logs | Visiting Hours, Party Hours

Entry tags:

Visiting Hours, Party Hours

Who: Ianchus, anyone coming by the clinic.
What: Visitation, beratement, and/or patient gossip.
Where: The Clinic.
When: Early-ish August, after this and this.
Warnings: Injuries and stuff? Probably not much.

Nothing injured but my pride. That was a common phrase he'd heard among the explorer-mercenaries after any sort of slip-up, their fault or not. Ianchus' favorite version of that would be to say he had no pride, so he had nothing to hurt.

And yet, there seemed an odd little ache now, in addition to the massive ache that was his whole body (his wounds had been fixed, his ribs wrapped, his cuts stitched, and he was on the way to mending, at the very least).

It looked like he had some sort of pride after all, that could be wounded, small as it was. And Ianchus realized that, despite his idiosyncracies...that for the time being, he was tired of wounds.

He'd been quite surprised at how many people had responded to his half-incoherent messages--even to just check if he was alright after seeing all the other responses. He was...grateful. Incredibly grateful. Everyone was trying to survive here, and yet nobody seemed to want to watch others die, no matter how foolish.

Ianchus had managed to find spare twine, cloth, rope, and other similar objects around the clinic, and he'd whiled away the hours once he was awake by making Cephean sailors' good-luck charms; braiding several different kinds of materials together into a thick rope was not only relaxing (and would keep him from going stir-crazy in his bed), but it was the only way he could think of to repay the people he was grateful to. A little luck would certainly be useful, wouldn't it?

Thankfully he's well enough now to receive visitors. Are you a fellow patient? Have you come to check on him? Admonish him, perhaps? God, but he could really use the company.

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"Good." Is that strange? He even gives the older man a sly grin as he slowly puts himself together from the surprise and the sudden anger. "I've always enjoyed challenges."

Now, hold on! They say it is bad luck to toast on an empty glass, the young man quickly fills half of it again, and just then he clinks it against Ianchus'.

"To your good health." He smirks and sips just a little bit of that, he doesn't want to get drunk in the clinic, that'd be... actually very funny. "I never give up, that's something you should probably know about me." It's true, they might not know much about the other, but Ianchus is one interesting man, he's intriguing and just as kind.

But he will proudly take his first win and not take advantage of his worthy opponent, it wouldn't be honorable.

"Tell me more about those talismans instead." He can definitely give him a rest.

Ianchus hesitates, looking at Atem over his glass with a rather piercing look, ascertaining the other man.

He enjoys games to a degree--but he dislikes these types, the ones where he feels probed. 'I'll find out what you don't want me to find out.' Certainly, Ianchus ultimately doesn't care about his own secrets, but he'll push back against anything that pushes him.

Still, at the toast he drinks, throwing his head back with full vivaciousness.

"These are...I'm making a few. I think everyone needs a little luck. A little protection. It was common for sailors on ship to while away hours on watch making them."

He holds up the one in his lap. "Nothing goes to waste. Tools turn into talismans."

It would be certainly easier to take the answer with the simple logic that it'd be not for Ianchus, but for others; why would he keep such information to himself when others could also be in danger? It's ridiculous, but Atem is not about to gamble about it, as good as he might be at it. For as long as he can, he will respect his wishes, but only for so long.

But that gets put aside for the moment, it's far easier to get lost in the stories from other's home at the moment.

"So, you're a sailor?" It doesn't sound like that's all there is, no. But he's also seen tidbits of his conversation with Law after all, he was all over that when he tried to confront him about taking Caedra as his crew. Needless to say, that didn't came out too well.

"Mmm. No, I wouldn't say so. I think that's a misnomer. I can sail, but I'm not a sailor, if that makes sense."

He looks up with a grin. "I lack the fatalism."
Well. Perhaps that's not quite right, considering how he ended up here, and how he's ended up other places. He lacks a specific sort of fatalism. The kind that keeps one alive.

Edited 2018-08-20 04:55 (UTC)

"It does make sense."

No, no he doesn't lack of that at all! Which is why Atem raises a skeptical eyebrow, even though the gesture is tainted with a smirk.

"Did you travel a lot, tho?"

"Of course. In my world, exploration was incredibly lucrative. We were possibly on the verge of discovering magical energy. But, ah! Exploration is expensive, isn't it?"

Ianchus makes a motion of his wrist. "That's where a rich patron comes in. And I had no intention of sitting on my laurels while my money sailed away and worked for itself. So I sailed with it."

As nonchalantly as he talks about it, there is a clear fondness in his voice...perhaps that gives a hint as to why he's so bitter about being trapped here.

"How lucky..." Somewhere in that tone there is just the slightest taint of jealously. Most of his life Atem stayed back home, traveling around was not something someone like him would have been able to afford, and not because of he lacked the resources. What was beyond those walls, what was beyond the sands he could see everyday from his balcony? More than once the toyed with the idea of escaping, see the world, learn from people, it could have certainly helped him understand the world a little better when he was younger. He cannot complain, however, he had a very good life.

"So there is magic in your world as well?"

"Ah, not like there is here." Not like the kind that healed his ribs, nor teleported him.

"It may or may not be true magic--like the kind here--in the first place. But there are definitely other forms of energy...the kind not generated by things like wind or...ah, or coal. There are many mysteries in the world. Most worlds."

He may not have dropped that he and Atem have more in common than the latter might think--both of their status as royalty--but what Atem is wistful for is precisely why Ianchus was so adamant about striking out on his own.

It is not hard to imagine the many things he might be referring to, if someone like him would have faced the modern world without any kind of previous knowledge, it would have been crazy, he would have considered every single thing as magic — something like electricity was such a surprise, but he doubts that's what he's talking about anyway.

"I hope you can get to experience those mysteries again, Ianchus."

He takes a moment to be...rather touched by that. Atem's insistent on prodding at him, sure, but he's not a bad sort, is he.

"Isn't Hadriel a mystery?" Ianchus looks up around the Clinic, thoughtfully. "I don't appreciate being the plaything of a god, but...there are so many people I never would have met otherwise. Perhaps that's worth a broken rib or two."

He pauses, and then with a deadpan face: "Of course, I'd prefer if they weren't the cause of said broken ribs." Except for in very specific circumstances, of course.

They are not gods, he could argue, and certainly not his, but they were, for their people. Powerful enough too, but not able to even defend them... He lets that slide anyway, it's not important.

"That's one way to see it." Way too optimistic, that's for sure. "You're taking this better than I did." What a vague statement, or perhaps, not so much.

"Ah, I seem to take it better than most people here."

He hesitates, turning thoughtful.
"I suppose it's because I came from a charmed, privileged life, and then traded some of my stability for unpredictability. This is a little more than I'm used to, but...ah, still, I just supposed this is the next step. No reason I shouldn't endure a little more, ah?"

It is certainly not what Atem was referring to, which of course makes him wonder.

"Unless you mean you're used to be bedridden, it's not quite what I was talking about." Ah, maybe he just should tell him, it's not as if it was a big secret anyway. "A couple of months after I got here, someone landed me in clinic for a while. I did not take that well, I must admit." But, who would, really?

"Oh--the injury, you mean?"

Ianchus doesn't miss the someone in Atem's statement. But thinking about it, the other seems proud...of course he wouldn't take it well.

"I was used to danger in my old life, too. Perhaps I'm dealing with it so well because I'm imagining I was gored by a buffalo instead of by a--ah."

Look at that, he almost said too much.

When you give your trust away and then you're gutted like a pig, it's hard not to harbor some kind of hate about it. At least he can say he's over that, the nightmares will not stop regardless.

That earns Ianchus a skeptical stare, fortunately he does not focus on what he almost didn't say, "What did you do in your old life?" Atem's wasn't without danger, of course, but he wasn't... not even he was that reckless, or was he? He's starting to think they both had a death wish of some sort.

"Exploration, like I'd said." He breaks into an almost painfully wide grin at that stare. Ah, it's certainly a childish part of him that loves to get reactions out of people.

"I wasn't a professional, of course. I had to learn quickly--ah, are you about to ask if I've been gored by a buffalo? No, no. But I knew a man who had."

His smile grows a little fond as he presses his fingers against his own belly. "And then managed to get gored by a tree while he was with me. Talented one, that."

How old is this guy, he has to wonder. There is nothing endearing about the attitude, unused as Atem is to be put in the spot that Ianchus has put him now, spoiled and prideful as he can be.

Atem stands and puts his glass away.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me who actually did it, huh?"

If Ianchus thought Atem didn't catch that and he was free from the pestering, he was wrong, one last push wouldn't hurt, would it?

No fun.

Ianchus lips purse in a little pout, his expression almost imploring.

"You really want to know. Why? What would it change? I'm sure you'd know anyone who's dangerous here by now."

What would it change? He often wonders about that, but he cannot allow himself to fall into that void, he cannot stop caring, stop trying to keep his people safe, his friends...

"You'd be surprised..."

With that alone he can narrow his guess to a single entity, but even so... Well, he knows better than most that people have their own personal agenda and will not care about what they have to do to achieve what they want.

He approaches back to the bed and fixes Ianchus' pillow.

"You'll need a bath soon. Would you like me to help you with that?"

Ianchus blinks in surprise, not having expected that offer, especially after how he's been yanking Atem around. He tilts his head, trying to read his expression.

"I would certainly appreciate it..."

The conversation change is needed, perhaps not so much for Ianchus, if we were to tell the truth.

"Tell me when. I'll wash your hair." He gives him a little playful wink, as if he were trying to regain the normalcy of things.

"How about now?" Ianchus reaches up, running a hand though his hair. It was washed a couple days ago, but, ah--the thought of fingers against his scalp is entirely too tempting.

And Atem seems like someone who knows what he's doing.

"Ah, sure I think we can do that now."

If only Atem knew what Ianchus is thinking he'd laugh till the next month as he is absolutely clueless about it. He remembers how people used to wash his hair and it was nice, soothing even, how hard can it be?

"I'll go get things ready then."

Ianchus' cheeks flush in pleasure and he sits up straighter, looking far too eager.

"Thank you." That's sincere.

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Visiting Hours, Party Hours

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I HAD THIS WRITTEN OUT AND THEN MY BROWSER CLOSED I'M SO CRANK

i'm sorry my dude

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