Icescapades

[glacius]

Who: Glacius (glacius) and Carlisle (tongueamok)
What: A lightheared attempt at cold camping that inadvertantly lets these two avoid Rage's influence following Delight's demise.
Where: Outside the city limits.
When: 2/23
Warnings: N/A

What sunlight made it through the light cloud covering of this cold world shone down on the even colder alien that crested the hill, using the vantage point to cast a glance back at the city that was dwindling in size behind them. Then, those glowing green eyes dropped to the human following behind him, extending his long limb to aid the human behind him as he tackled the incline next. It wasn't uncommon to see Glacius trudging diligently out beyond the city limits, exploring and keeping watch, but for his partner to join him was a special occassion.

Glacius had long been keenly interested in exploring this planet for an extended period of time, and Carlisle had mentioned a few times that he wouldn't mind going out with him on a camping venture. Now, given the most recent transmission the citizens of Hadriel had received from the Null, it seemed like the perfect time to get away from it all. The ice alien did not want to be involved in the exchange, did not want to be dragged into the conflict between the murderous machiens and the torturing parasites any more than he already had been... so, what had initially been planned as a fun get away together now had added incentive.

"Ah, there you go," Glacius speaks, pulled out of his thoughts by the human's much warmer gloved hand resting lightly in his own. He clasps it supportively and helps him the the rest of the way up the hill, happy for Hadriel to vanish behind it. "The terrain may be uneven, but you are doing well... and soon we will be far enough away to look for a place to set up camp and rest. How are you doing, my partner?"

Comments

[tongueamok]

Thankfully, Boris takes the expression his supposed-nephew gives him in stride, offering him a smile. "Ah. You need not explain yourself if ya don't want. I suppose the urge to get some fresh air every now and then is as much in your blood as it is in mine."

He claps a hand on Carlisle's -- now Glacius' -- shoulder; though the gesture is gentle, his hands are coarse from years of handling the axe strapped across his back. Pulling in a deep breath, he looks to the stars above them, steam rising from his nostrils as he pushes the air out of his lungs.

"I..." He sighs in a manner very much like Carlisle himself before trying again. "It's hard now, lad. No one is denying that. But we'll make it through this, I promise you. You know that, right? We'll make it through this together, as we always have."

[glacius]

For all of the burly human's words of support, Glacius just continues to scrutinize him, trying to figure this all out. He mentioned Benistad, so he's clearly family... is this his other uncle, Boris? In this smaller form, it is not all that hard to see why Carlisle found him so impressive; having a human looming large over him is novel, and something he decides he is not entirely fond of. The displaced ice alien finds himself trying to puff up slightly compensate, a gesture that might seem out of place for the often-frightened cleric whose body he has somehow found himself in... but then, pretending to be someone he is not is never something Glacius would attempt. In fact, it is another reason he is so uncomfortable with all of this.

He does still need to find some way to respond, though. "My apologies..." the ice alien starts with, and is relieved to find that this dream at least allows him automatic knowledge of how to use the structures of a mouth he has never before possessed. "...I do not belong here. I am not quite sure how else to put it."

[tongueamok]

Something ignites in Boris Glacius' words, his eyes flaring as he casts his supposed nephew a look -- it is not one of pure anger, but also apprehension, fear. The way it shakes him is unbecoming of a man so obviously strong, but he does little to hide it as he kneels, bringing himself closer to Carlisle's height as he turns to face him.

"D'your father tell you that?" he questions, his lip twitching just enough to show his teeth. He seems to realize immediately that aggravation is not the right course of action, and reels in it, his mighty brow knitting tightly as he averts his eyes for a second or two, then returns them to Glacius, his hand still on his shoulder. "Look, no matter what Kevin thought, you are a Longinmouth. You will always be a Longinmouth, no matter what roads you may take... or what paths you are forced upon by circumstance. They do not change who you are, and whomever that may be, you embrace it, lad. Understand?"

[glacius]

"You do not understand," Glacius replies, unmoved by the display of aggression—though belatedly he realizdes he perhaps should be, for he is not sure how well he could defend himself in this form should a human so large try to enact harm. "That is not what this is—"

But then he checks himself because it is, is it not? These are words that Carlisle needs to hear—that Glacius hopes he heard when an ice alien had not somehow taken over his body. "I understand. I do," Glacius goes with instead, though he wishes Carlisle was the one saying that and meaning it; in fact, it feels bad that the intended person is not here to receive these words now. In the very least, it is heartening to know that his partner had some sources of support in his family.

[tongueamok]

That answer seems to placate Boris, who gives his nephew a relieved smile before pulling him into a quick, but tight embrace. "Yer not alone in this, Carlisle," he says quietly, his breath visible in the cold air of the night. "Me and Benistad -- we're here for you, so don't take it all on yourself."

Words that would be true, for a time, and ones Carlisle took to heart; the disappearance of his uncles affected Carlisle so profoundly that he must have. Releasing Glacius, Boris straightens up, turning his eyes to the night sky once more before he starts heading for the house, waiting for Carlisle to follow. Though the rest of the world around them is somewhat blurry, faded by the frailty of memory, the estate behind them is crisp, every detail memorized from the years the clergyman spent isolated there.