hadriel_logs | semi-open;

Entry tags:

jo harvelle

semi-open;

Who: Drake + anyone who needs to feel hopeful
What: Hadriel's resident zombie needs to bring hope to six people, but since that's tricky he's just attempting it at every opportunity he sees.
Where: anywhere!!!
When: 4/6 onwards, please give a date so I know which event is going on at the time!
Warnings: none yet and none planned, I'll edit if things arise

Well, it sure had taken Drake long enough to make this decision. Eight months from the point he first decided he wanted it, four since he had really gotten fed up and decided he couldn't live this way no matter what the advantages were. And so this might be the worst timing, when they're worried about another Null attack, but also... that makes it feel more urgent. Drake has no interest in being the last one standing, or left to starve yet again if something happens to Hope, to hurt someone he cares about or start an outbreak, and if he's going to die he'd rather go out human. Best case scenario, when it's all over he gets to go somewhere else and actually get a second chance. However things go, now just seems like the time for this deal.

It's too bad, he thinks, that he couldn't make it with Love. No, it has to be Hope, and Drake's not all that confident in his ability to inspire that, but he has to try. He was told six people but he's not really counting, because he feels like if he goes into this asking people what they're feeling it'll be disingenuous... so he won't ever really know who added to his number and who didn't, but it can't be a bad thing to help as many people as possible, right? Right.

He does seek some people out, people he's got ideas for or needs help from, but for the most part he just keeps an eye out. When he's moving through the jungle on patrol, when he wanders by the Speakeasy, whenever. Anyone who looks like they might need help, or someone to talk to, or just company. He'll do what he can and cross his fingers that it's enough.

(( ooc: Some starters in comments! Technically this is open to anyone interested in tagging in but please hit me up at

cuddlebug or Ana#1461 so we can plan a little. ♥ ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As far as Drake knows, Carolina left the city awhile back. He's only aware of this because he kept coming by the house to hang out with Tucker until he left as well -- the last time he went to message his friend he realized that everyone had left from that world except Wash, Maine, and of course Ephemera. It seems to him like a lot of people are vanishing lately, and there's that feeling of having to hold on tight to his people that are left.

Little does he know she returned, and just got out of the colosseum before he'd arrived -- it's not like he could ever miss that armor, after all.

He's on patrol when he spots her now, does a double take at that head of red hair and familiar build heading into one of the shops. Is it her..? Certainly no one will get eaten by a jungle creature in the time it takes him to duck in after the person to check. Drake heads after her and slips into the shop, glancing around. Sure enough there's Carolina, scanning the grocery shelves with a vaguely unhappy expression on her face. Maybe it won't be welcome, but he heads over with a wary smile -- he isn't sure whether she'd rather be home or not, he's just still happy to see her.

"Hey. Did you just get back?"

Wait. Does she even remember him? He'll find out in a second, whoops.

Her sharp gaze turns from what she is doing, to settle the green eyes on him. She's not quite as put out as the first time that she showed up, as Carolina does recall this place at least. Yet, things have changed as well. It's not even the scenery, so much, but the faces.

Carolina has seen people go- Atem, Alice...- but it hasn't been anyone as close as Epsilon. Of course, the opposite end of that is that she had left first, even if she didn't know it. The others she can see again at home, knowing that they will be there, in some capacity, whereas Epsilon, that isn't the case.

There is recognition though as she sets the item down, turning to give him a tip of her head of acknowledgment, a slight curl of her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes, and there is a general air of distraction and annoyance at the world in general. "I did, although I've no recollection of leaving."

Drake blinks at her in surprise -- that's not normal at all. Usually when people come back they remember more from home, but is she saying she blipped from the same moment? Huh. It almost sounds harder to deal with, to just feel like you're missing time for no reason. He recovers smoothly enough, coming down the aisle so they can talk more comfortably.

"That must be a weird feeling, especially with the others gone. Are you okay?"

It's easy enough to tell that he actually is concerned and wants to know how she's settling back in.

Weird doesn't begin to cover it. It's not like she is one to lose time and wake up in strange places, at least out of the blue. She might have been injured and woken up in the infirmary, but that was something completely different. Carolina had thought that it was just this place doing something to her, but it turns out that it was something very different.

There is that pause. Is she okay? She's the furthest thing away from okay that there could be, but Carolina also isn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve. "Going to take some getting used to. Them not being here."

Epsilon...

"Yeah... I've been there, too. Losing people you know you won't get to see again, after this." Maybe he's overstepping things, they barely know each other, but it's common ground and sometimes that helps. Drake breathes out, glancing at the shelf she'd been searching. "You probably don't want to talk about it, but if you do I'm around. All we can really do is remember them, and that makes it harder in some ways. Being so aware of the empty space."

He's curious -- has questions about if they'd planned something different for Church, if they'd been thinking of staying or sending him elsewhere alive to meet up again later. Drake and Tucker had only talked about his plans for doing that kind of thing, not theirs, because he'd known the other man hadn't been willing to leave his kid. Understandable, but painful. Complicated. He wonders if it's easier or harder for Carolina, having lost so many people in her life already. None of these are things he's planning to ask right now as an acquaintance, but maybe eventually she'd open up, to someone closer if not to him. Drake's always gotten the feeling that was difficult for her. He switches topics to try and lighten things up.

"Did you get the grand tour of the jungle?"

[Jo is in and out of the Speakeasy these days. It's a popular place for people and it helps her keep a finger on Hadriel's pulse.

She's also used to keeping an eye out for people who might need help or have something on their minds.

Drake looks like the second when he drops in.]

Hey. You need something to cool off?

[ It's early enough that the Speakeasy is still pretty quiet when Drake walks in, so he turns at Jo's greeting and heads over to her at the bar. He claims a stool and offers her a smile. ]

Hey Jo. That'd be great... whatever you've got.

[ He doesn't actually look that warm despite the temperature outside, but that's not surprising. He runs cooler than a human. ]

How are you doing?

[She's been saying it to everyone. It's a habit at this point.

Jo ends up setting a golden-tinted liquid in front of him.]

I'm doing okay. [She smiles softly, just a hint of tiredness in her eyes.]

What about you?

I'm holding up... trying to be ready for anything. They're putting us through the wringer lately, that's for sure.

[ He reaches out for the glass, swirling its contents before taking a sip. Not bad. Then again, he's not picky at all. ]

Been thinking about what comes next an awful lot.

Yeah. [It's a lot. Sometimes it feels like this place is always a lot, but she's tired. There's been almost no downtime.]

Planning, huh? It's hard, isn't it? [She's been thinking on the future too.

It feels weird to have one again.]

That's for sure. Lots of big choices, some of them... harder than I'd like.

[ He looks back up and considers Jo for a moment, everything he knows about her. What home was like, her death, her afterlife. A little bit of her life here. And finds that he's curious. Will she go back? Stay put? Follow a friend someplace new? ]

What are you thinking of doing?

[His words are making her curious as well. Any new world would be tricky for him, considering the condition he's in.

Jo sighs at his question, giving him a half-shrug.]

I'm still trying to decide. I might go somewhere else. [George asked her to go with her.

The idea of starting all over somewhere completely different is kind of terrifying, if she's honest.]

[Charles has been doing a lot of pacing lately, both in and outside his little miniature house, so it just kind of makes sense to go on a walk around the city. As in, actually around the city, not just through it.

Having no idea that he's somewhere along a certain zombie's patrol route, he eventually stops to stare off into the trees and smoke one of his last remaining cigarettes. He's been rationing them pretty well, except for the past few days.

A lot's bugging him about this Null situation. He's seen them in person, but he still feels like he has no idea what they're up against. The damn things killed a god, what else are they capable of? Is it actually possible for a city full of chaotic assholes to beat these things? Sure some of them have magic and shit, but how effective is that really?

It'd be nice to be able to form a plan, even though he's never been the best at it. It'd be nice to draw up battle lines, figure out the best strategy to survive. But with so much missing information, every plan he comes up with is full of holes.

Charles is so focused on his frustration that his normal vigilance has dulled. He doesn't even notice anyone coming through the trees. If he looks distinctly distracted, it's because he is.]

[ Drake smells Charles before he sees him -- the cigarette, that is. He spots the smoke shortly after that, tendrils curling up and dissipating from around the edge of a large tree. Usually he uses his patrols to practice moving as quietly though the jungle as possible, but it's better not to startle people in Hadriel. That's a good way to get shot or zapped with magic, so as Charles himself comes into view Drake steps a little heavier, with a little less care so that his movements through the foliage are easily heard. But still, the stranger doesn't glance his way. He looks completely lost in thought... not a great way to be, this far out. ]

Hey.

[ Drake raises a hand in greeting, making his way closer. The blue sash he wears identifies him as a Guardsman, and he's certainly well armed. No surprises there. What's probably the most odd about him is that he doesn't seem affected by the heat, no sweat visible on his skin or tank top. ]

You doing okay out here?

Drake is well aware that he really should have talked to Nick about all this sooner, but he wasn't even certain whether or not he'd be going through with it until... well. The night he proposed, honestly. Some part of him was expecting things to just continue as they were anyway, with him heading into the oncoming battle ready to sacrifice himself, fighting at full zombie power and just saving one bullet for himself in case things went south. It still felt a little selfish to do this, something almost entirely for his own benefit, but the process of the deal itself had convinced him that it was okay to be just a little selfish about some things. He'd been reminded that he wasn't alone in any of this, and he's accepted that as just one person he won't be a tipping point. He's not a big hero type, he won't be the one to save the city, just die defending it if that's what it comes to. All he can do is his best. So he's going to go back to Hope and pull an entirely different kind of trigger, but Nick needs to know.

As he walks into the HQ, though, he realizes he's worried about how Nick's going to take it. Maybe that's part of why he put this off for last, until he was certain he was doing it and had support from everyone else so that one dissenting voice couldn't talk him down off this ledge. Selfish. Or... maybe he just doesn't want Nick disappointed in him. Shaking it off Drake takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders as he enters the office area, and sees Nick at his desk fiddling with something clearly electronic. Circuitboards and wires are visible though a gap in the casing, and his curiosity at what it could be actually distracts him pretty thoroughly from the nerves.

"Hey, Nick... what've you got there?"

Nick leans back in his chair as Drake walks in, not having expected to have company in the HQ at this time of night. It's usually just him in the evening hours, the privacy afforded by the late shift good for tinkering with the memory bank DiMA made for him. Though he hasn't decided whether or not to use it, he figures it can't hurt to have a look at it, see exactly how it works. His brother clearly put a lot of thought and care into this, enough that Nick can't help but feel guilty that he's questioning it at all.

Still, the idea of offloading memories, or even making a backup copy of them, makes him distinctly uncomfortable -- after all, some archived memories on an old hard drive are exactly the reason he exists in the first place. If something happens to him, what becomes of those files? Would they end up in some frame much like his own, giving birth to another synth with an identity crisis and a mess of memories that aren't really his? Or what if the bank doesn't work, and he loses those memories entirely? It wouldn't really be all that different from what he's dealing with now, given how much memory he's apparently lost, events overwritten time and time again until he can no longer remember how they went or who was involved. Hell, he even forgot his own brother.

So he's been apprehensive to say the least, and as he was hoping to keep what issues he's having with his memory from the rest of the Guard, Nick considers trying to stuff the bank into his desk drawer when he hears footsteps approaching his desk. However, he'd rather not risk damaging it, so he inwardly hopes instead that Drake won't think too much of it. At least he knows if he has to explain himself, he can trust Drake to keep it to himself. He's got plenty of secrets of his own, after all.

"Just something my, erm. Brother made for me."

He's not sure he will ever be fully comfortable with the fact his brother a. exists and b. is in Hadriel, but he's working on it.

It's hard for Drake to shake the guilt he still feels at having made this request of Lup, considering what she's going through right now. Even as he steps up to her house and knocks on the door -- a courtesy to everyone else living there, really, as he knows she's expecting him because she texted him to come pick things up -- he feels a little awkward. What kind of jerk asks for help with a proposal from someone whose partner has just disappeared? But she'd wanted to help, so... maybe it makes her feel a little better too, in some way? Drake's not sure how much she's bluffing for his sake when he knows it must be hurting her, but he also trusts Lup to tell him to fuck off if he ever crosses her. So here he is.

He shifts the bag on his shoulder as he waits for someone to answer the door, hoping there's something in it she deems acceptable. Clothes shopping in Hadriel is a crapshoot at the best of times, which this isn't, and he's had too much on his plate to go to Margaery. Worst case, Lup tells him it's all horrible and he dresses like it's any other day. That doesn't sound so bad, he doesn't really want to make a huge production out of this anyway. Neither of them are the type.

However she's feeling right now, whatever hurt and anger may still be twisting sharply in her heart at this very moment, it's impossible to tell with the way she reacts to his arrival to her home.

Drake's at the front door, knocking as most folks would, when Lup calls from her bedroom on the third story, leaning almost half of her whole slender frame out of the window to wave an arm enthusiastically at the man.

"Come on up, buttercup! Let yourself in, Peanut knows you. She won't bite much."

Fear is something that Drake has a complicated relationship with. He still feels it, still listens to it, still understands that it's a healthy part of self-preservation and that even irrational fears are important to understand and listen to, work through. He's spent a long time doing that -- learning what's important to him, when it's time to push through for something bigger than himself, when it's time to hang back and be more cautious. It's been a long road to balance the fear and the bravery to figure out exactly who he is and what risks he wants to take, to treat fear like a friend who's always there with his best interests at heart... but shouldn't always be listened to.

Drake was absolutely ready to be terrified of this, to have to sit himself down at some point when the reality of it hit and talk himself back into it. He sure has with the humanity deal, several times. But this... is different. From the moment he first put the idea into words he knew he was going to go through with it, and fear was conspicuously absent. Still is. He was more worried about whether or not he was stressing Lup out than the actual outcome of tonight. Not once over the past several weeks has he wondered if this was a mistake, and he's not sure if that's because he's actually certain what the answer will be or just secure enough in their relationship that if it's a no, they'll figure it out anyway. Either way, he's genuinely as calm on the inside as he appears on the outside tonight, dressed in better fitting and slightly nicer clothes with two rings in his pocket. Cooking a much nicer meal than usual... that'll probably be the giveaway that something's up, and Drake smiles to himself as he lowers the heat on the stove. It's going to be a complete surprise, he thinks, and he's weirdly excited to see the reaction. Hopefully it's a good one. Hopefully Ephemera won't freak. But again, if things don't go well, they'll deal with it. Just like they've dealt with everything else over the past two years. He's not afraid, and it only makes him more determined to go through with this. To try for something he wants even if historically that's never gone all that well.

Some things are just worth it, right?

It turns out he's timed things just about right -- he hears the apartment door open and carefully schools his expression into something more neutral even though it's probably going to be obvious that something's up pretty quickly. He even sounds a bit eager as he calls out from the kitchen.

"Hey. How was patrol?"

Something's cooking. Ephemera smells it as he pulls his helmet off, shaking his hair out of his eyes. It's starting to get long, though not with much grace. Growing crooked over scar tissue, he thinks. But it's a choice he's made. A step away from the buzz cut he used to sport in the war and the ragged mea that came afterward, when he stopped bothering with the clippers. He never cared about his hair the way Chica and Rodriguez did, preferring to focus on other things when he bothered to think bout his appearance at all, but here and now, he wants a change. Something concrete and physical. It feels somewhat trivial beside the tattoo, but it's a choice he's made.

It's good, to be making choices that don't center around violence these days.

"Nothing serious. That smells awesome. What're you making?"

"Dinner," Drake answers teasingly, his mouth twitching into a playful grin he doesn't bother to hide as he glances over. "Come try, it's almost done."

He may have had a little help from Lup with this too.... with all of it, honestly, as despite her own recent loss their friend was insistent he wear something besides a henley and have a quality meal for tonight. After making the rings he hadn't wanted to ask her for anything else, but once that woman got an idea in her head that was that, and Drake had to admit he didn't have much sense of either fashion or taste. The latter would be changing, soon, but right now he just accepted the help. When Ephemera comes over to the stove he'll see something that looks and smells impressively like Chinese takeout, albeit with the vegetables from the garden here and unidentifiable meat, but hey, he can only work with what they've got. It's something Ephemera's mentioned missing on many a drunken evening, and from what Drake could tell after spiking their first attempt with reaper, it was damn close.

Edited 2019-10-02 22:10 (UTC)

Well that's quite the smile. Ephemera cants his eyebrow, giving Drake a curious look, but moves closer. It looks shockingly like the Chinese takeout he used to get after training missions back in the day. It also looks like it took a long time to cook.

Ephemera whistles, reaching over to snag some with a fork. "Holy shit. That's amazing."

It's good and greasy, and spicy enough to make his eyes water. God, it's been a long time since he's had genuinely good food.

Also, Drake's dressed up.

Ephemera blinks. "Special occasion?"

He feels a little underdressed, still half in his armor.

"You look nice," he adds after a moment, because Drake does.

The question gets Ephemera a tiny shrug, because Drake might not be particular anxious about how this'll go but he's still aware it might not wind up exactly how he wants. Maybe in the end tonight won't be special in the way he's intending, and that'd be okay too. There's no perfect answer, and there doesn't have to be, but he does try to give a slightly better response as he checks the rice again. Something low pressure, frame it as a thing he wants to do, not anything he's expecting.

"I just felt like trying something special, yeah. Hard to make date nights happen around here and I'm in the mood for one. It's not too hot for you?"

Honestly he wouldn't really care if Ephemera came to dinner still in armor, or just sleep clothes, that doesn't matter. He's the one who chose to present himself a certain way tonight. But it's nice that Ephemera noticed. ... Is he catching on? No, can't be.

"Thanks. I was out with Lup and she found some decent stuff." It's the truth, just not the part where she'd dragged him to find those things specifically for this. "Do you want to go change? I can make plates."

Ephemera nods slowly. "It's good."

It's true they haven't had much time just to spend time with each other lately, with how everything's been going. And it'd be good to have a...date night. Sure. He can do that. He's even got some halfway decent clothes in the closet leftover from Lup's party. Nothing fancy, but nice enough. Nicer than the clothes he usually wears anyway, which are chosen for comfort and ease of movement over anything else.

He gives Drake a little smile, and squeezes his arm. "Sure. And - thank you. It's. It feels like a good night for it."

Something just for them.

He changes out of his armor quickly enough, and into his nicer clothes. It's nothing much, just jeans and a black sweater, but it fits him well and it passed Lup's muster, so Ephemera figures it works. He combs his hair, too. It seems like the thing to do. Besides, he used to get dressed up and go out back in the day, with the squad, and those had been good times. A break from the chaos of the war and everything that happened. Sometimes it's nice just to break the routine. Do something different just for the breathing room.

So he makes an effort, even if it's a small one, and comes out looking decent. There's nothing to be done about the scars, but Drake knows them by now and that's just fine.

Ephemera runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "It's getting long again. Might need to invest in like, bobby pins or something."

It gets in his eye sometimes, when he's not wearing his helmet, but Ephemera doesn't mind too much. It's a change and most changes come with adjustments.

Well that's promising already, Drake thinks to himself, his smile back lingering even after Ephemera's vanished into the bedroom. By the time his partner's changed, there are plates out on the table and Drake's opening two beers he smuggled out of the speakeasy, setting them at each place. He looks back up at the footsteps returning to see that Ephemera seems to have embraced the idea of a date easily enough -- even if it's not technically a break in routine to have dinner together at home like they usually do, and Drake didn't want to be suspicious busting out flowers or candles or anything -- he recognizes the outfit and it's a good one. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle as he tugs a chair out.

"Now who looks nice? The hair... if you want to keep growing it, maybe. Or you could just even it out and change the style until it's long enough to get behind your ear." He runs a hand through his own hair as an example, gelled away from his forehead as usual. "Either way I like it."

Drake sits, and although there's never a question which plate is his, what with the special additions, Ephemera will notice that he's set their places on adjacent sides of the table tonight instead of opposite. It's a small table so there's really not much difference, but it brings them just sliiiiiiightly closer.

"I thought maybe I could catch you up a little. On the deal progress."

They haven't had as much time just alone together lately as Drake would've liked, busy with preparations and patrols and this extra project of his. And the fact is that he's never certain who he's actually inspired so has been casting a very wide net that's hard to keep accurate track of. He's pretty sure he's at or over six now, though, so even if tonight doesn't go exactly as he's hoping they should talk about it because he's ready. And if it does? Icing.

"Flatterer," Ephemera teases, and grins. And why not? He's feeling light and relaxed, at ease with the moment. There's good food and time he gets to spend with his favorite person. Hell, there's even some decent beer from the speakeasy. It's been busy lately, with everything going on, and it feels good to slow down for a bit. He sits and brushes his arm against Drake's, just for the sake of doing it. Why not?

"I've never worn it long before," he admits. "Always cut it short. Seemed easier. But - it's new. Seemed like a good time to try something new, you know?"

Even though it'll look odd with his scars, it's a change. A small one, to be sure, but one that he's chosen. Another step away from Sharkface.

Ephemera pulls his plate closer and starts digging in. He's hungry and the food is hot. "That'd be good. How's it going ?"

It's not the sort of deal Ephemera thinks he could have pulled off, but it's the one Drake was given, and Drake's always been good at adapting. Always been good at getting people to listen to him, so that's probably a plus.

Drake's never been the kind of person you could call shallow. Obviously if someone's truly stunning somehow he'll notice, but that doesn't give them any advantages around him, and there's something to appreciate in everyone. From the first time he looked at Ephemera, it wasn't the scars he noticed. It was the soldier, strong and skilled. He likes Ephemera's hair at every length he's seen it aesthetically, but there's something about the other man growing it out that's even more appealing. Not just because he likes running his fingers through it, but because it's Ephemera's choice what to do with it now. He's not buzzing it for the military or having to let it grow because prison won't give him scissors -- he has agency in this small thing, and Drake likes that. So he grins and nods his understanding.

"New can be really good. Obviously." He takes a forkful of his own dinner, thoughtful about how to answer. "And I'm pretty sure... if I haven't actually hit it yet, I'm almost there."

In between bites he describes some of his encounters. He didn't plan anything, really, feeling like if he set this kind of thing up it wouldn't work as intended. You can't plan to give someone hope. You have to find opportunities, and he was sort of flying blind, but he tells Ephemera about how Pratt seemed to regain some faith in himself, how Jo seemed more hopeful about going to another world with her new family, how spending time with Lup even though she's aware of what he's doing seems to have helped her outlook lately, how he thinks he helped Nick reach out to his brother, how Carolina seemed to finally open up to him a little, and Klaus has been so much stronger fighting his addiction with proper support.

And that's six, right? If Drake is sure about those, that should be it. There were other tiny encounters that may have added up, if he was mistaken, but he's either there or really close. Except then he sets his fork down and just watches Ephemera for a moment, waiting for a moment for any second guesses. None come. No fear. He smiles softly.

"I've got one more idea, too."

The gods are creative, even if they're not always kind. It's the sort of task Drake can do. A difficult one, to be sure, but something Drake understands and seems to approach thoughtfully. He doesn't plan things out the way Ephemera would have in that position, but Drake does find people. Listens to them, talks to them, figures out what makes them work. And in another person it have been nothing more than a cold calculation, the balance between the amount of effort required to get the desired result, but Drake's different. He gets people. Sees them, even when they don't want to be seen. Ephemera would've made a list and tried to improvise from there, but not Drake.

Drake listens. And then he works.

Ephemera nods, realizing that he's started smiling a little as Drake speaks. It's easy to listen to Drake, who doesn't bullshit and tends to mean everything he says with a quiet sincerity. And it's a good moment, just the two of them at a small table, in a place they've made their own, and Drake solid and strong at his side.

He feels safe, Ephemera realizes. His guard is down, but it's more than that. It almost feels like he could put his armor away and feel like himself as he is, just flesh and bone and all the pins holding him together - or at least imagine a world where that might be true, so long as Drake was in it somehow.

"Yeah?"

Ephemera sits up a little straighter.

"Something I can help you with?"

Inspiring people isn't really his thing, but he'd try if Drake asked him to.

It was a good stretch of just Drake talking, Ephemera's little acknowledgements here and there, a tiny fond smile while they run through the progress. But as soon as he says he's got that one last idea the other man straightens, offers to help just like he did when Drake first said he needed this. Like he's offered more times than Drake could count at this point -- Ephemera has always been there for him, always had his back. Maybe this kind of gesture is too much, or too unexpected, but he doesn't have a single doubt that it's worth asking because he's sure. They've already promised to stick together, made hypothetical plans for every scenario they could come up with so this could work, because they work. Insane as it seems.

Maybe, in the face of all that, a little circle of metal doesn't mean much. But Drake nods in response to the question, voice low and calm, that soft smile still on his face.

"I've probably got plenty for the deal so there's no pressure, but... I think you can, yeah. Just a second."

Drake nudges his chair back enough to stand, but doesn't move more than a step over so he's got a little more space both to dig his hand into his pocket... and to kneel. When his fingers uncurl there are two rings in his palm, solid bands of silver and black respectively, a spiraling infinity style pattern in the opposite color across each of their broad surfaces. There's no hesitation in his movements as Drake picks up the black one and tilts his head up to meet Ephemera's gaze, presenting it between his thumb and forefinger.

He doesn't actually say anything, doesn't ask in the traditional sense, but he's on one knee holding up a ring and his eyes are shining hopefully. This is obvious, right? It's too bad that even if he gets a yes his own emotions won't add to the meter.

Ephemera watches the proceedings with what's probably a very stupid look on his face, confusion and eagerness all wrapped into one because he does want to help Drake, in whatever way he can, but isn't sure why that help involves getting down on one knee —

Oh. Oh.

"You want me to marry you," Ephemera blurts out, entirely too surprised to hide it. Looking back on it later, he'll find the reaction strange. They'd already talked about going to meet Drake's mom, so why would this be a such a stretch? But marriage was always something that happened to other people, with different lives, and before Drake there hadn't been anyone Ephemera had expected to stick around for more than a few days. Only his squad, and that had been a different sort of love. No less important, but different. It hadn't been a consideration in his life. There hadn't been room for it.

But then there was Drake, who was himself in all ways, and it was different. The life they have now is different. But there must have been a switch somewhere in Ephemera's brain that hadn't managed to make the jump until now, because Drake's down on one knee, holding a ring, and Ephemera's been staring at him wide-eyed for probably too long.

Can't leave him hanging now. That wouldn't be right.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll marry you." Ephemera clears his throat. "I mean. Since you asked so nice."

Better to joke than start crying, right? He shakes his head and reaches out, taking the ring in one hand and putting his other on Drake's shoulder. The ring fits like a charm. It's got a nice design too, Ephemera realizes. Infinity.

Yeah. That's them.

Drake doesn't say anything in response to Ephemera's blurted realization, just holds his pose and waits patiently for the other man to process it. The long stretch of wide-eyed staring doesn't seem to bother him but at the first 'yeah' his smile changes, from soft and patient to as broad as it can get.

"You knew what I meant," he replies to the joke, and when Ephemera takes the ring and tries it on he takes that moment to slip his own on, the silver-and-black one still in his other palm. Then his hand settles over his partner's where it rests on his shoulder, giving Ephemera another moment to let it settle while he examines the design.

"We don't have to be that specific, either, like it might depend where we wind up and we've already promised each other more than this but..."

A bit of metal and potential paperwork obviously doesn't actually make their promises more concrete or meaningful, but it still represents something special. At least to Drake, how he was raised to think of things, and from the shock and obvious emotional response Ephemera's having now it seems like even 500 years in the future it's important. He might not have had any doubts about their status if Ephemera had thought it was too much, or even just silly, but hearing the actual answer feels better than Drake had imagined.

"...I'm stupidly happy you actually said yes," he finally finishes the thought, huffing a sheepish laugh. "You like them?"

Ephemera leans forward to touch their foreheads together, taking a moment just to breathe. It feels like less of a shock now that he's had a moment to let his brain play catch up, and more like the inevitable continuation of what's already happened between them. They've already said the words, lived together, stood together after both of them had already died. And this is what people do, isn't it? They make a gesture to symbolize everything. Ephemera thinks of his armor and how important it was, even when he'd been Sharkface, to paint it just right so the rest of the world would know what they were looking at.

This is different. Less fraught, less violent. But it is important, and it ought to be done right.

"I do," he says quietly, and squeezes Drake's shoulder. Ephemera's never worn rings before, but it doesn't feel too strange. He might not be able to wear it with his gauntlets on, but he can get a chain and put it on that. Wear it around his neck when he's armored up. That feels right, too. "And. This matters. Wherever we end up, we'll do - something, you know? Even paperwork. I will do paperwork for you, Drake."

He's been told marriage involves paperwork, which is probably Ephemera's least favorite thing. But it matters, and he'll do it right.

Drake's other hand comes up to grip Ephemera's neck, holding him in place contentedly. His cheeks are actually starting to ache a little but he's pretty sure he couldn't stop smiling if he wanted to right now.

"It's not that much paperwork," he promises, sounding both amused and delighted.

Oh, wait.

"There's just one catch. I promised Lup that if you said yes we wouldn't have a ceremony without her, she wants to be there and then in charge of the party." It's not a catch, really, Drake feels like they'd both want her there and she technically did more work for this than he did. He shifts his weight a little, preparing to get off the floor. "Figured that was a safe promise to make."

Ephemera huffs a little, grinning. It feels good just to stay like this, touching, but he knows Drake's knees have to be aching by now. "She does know how to throw a good party."

And that's the whole point of making a gesture like this, isn't it? Doing it so the rest of the world can take notice. It's for them first, and most importantly, but that part matters too. Having witnesses.

He stands, offering a hand to Drake. "She help make the rings?"

It seems like a safe bet. The design feels like Drake, but neither of them are jewelers.

Nodding in response to the question, Drake takes the offered hand and gets back to his feet. If it's the closeness Ephemera was enjoying he's not without it for long because Drake immediately steps back in against him, winding one arm around his waist and raising their joined hands so he can appreciate the ring now that it's on Ephemera's finger.

"I felt kind of like a jerk for asking, after Barry left, but it felt too personal to make another deal and she got really into it. And they turned out perfect."

He grins again, thinking now of how pleased she'll be for them, too.

"Which of us should tell her?"

"Yeah."

Ephemera leans against Drake, watching their joined hands and the rings. It fits, doesn't it? Infinity. In the face of all the uncertainty of the world, this one thing will be solid.

"She likes this sort of thing," he says after a moment, voice soft and fond. "We should tell her together."

It'd make her happy. Lup deserves to be happy, he thinks. You gotta hold onto the small things.

"...I really like them, Drake. They just....fit."

"We can do that," Drake agrees easily, bumping their foreheads together.

The design is something he considered for awhile, tried to draw as well as describe even though he's definitely not the artist of the two of them. He's really glad Ephemera approves.

"It felt right. Whatever happens, this isn't going anywhere. These are a good reminder."

He doesn't know how things will play out, but they'll have this. These tokens, this moment, if nothing else. Something else physical -- they both like that kind of thing.

"I should go to Hope soon, now that I'm pretty sure I've made the deal, but not tonight. Tonight's for you. What do you feel like doing?"

Something solid and real, not just a symbol. There's a reason Ephemera paints his armor, counts up his tattoos and makes sure they all look exactly how he means them to. The symbols, physical or not, matter. They hold the line when the world goes mad. And they stand as proof for what they've both accomplished in the face of all that madness.

Ephemera closes his good eye and leans against Drake, content to just - be, for a moment. It's strange, sometimes, to think he can have this. That he can feel safe and quiet and loved, and believe that it will last. That he won't lose it the moment he turns his back.

"Just for me, huh?" His voice is soft and content. The ring feels good on his hand, now that he's gotten used to the feel of it. "I want...fuck. I want to eat and sit with you and just....be. For a little while."

Cheesy as all fuck, but he wants that. Some time for just the two of them to sit and talk, and share the same space, where they can be quiet and let the tension go for a little while.

Drake nods slightly, then tilts his face up and kisses Ephemera's forehead before pulling back. They hadn't quite finished eating and this turned out good enough that they really should.

"Finish your dinner, we can take dessert to the couch."

He may have also swung by the bakery because why the fuck not?

"Yes, sir," he teases, and isn't it nice that he has someone he can do that with? Drake's always been a constant, ever since he first got dropped into Hadriel, and Ephemera's thankful for that. That he found someone who could be patient with him and more than that, that he found Drake, who fights and struggles but never, ever, gives up. Not on the fight, not on other people.

Yeah. They'll be all right.

He brightens at the mention of dessert. "Seriously? You're awesome. I should say that more often."

And then immediately starts digging into his food. It's better when it's hot.

The comment has Drake beaming again, not because it's a compliment but because of how much Ephemera means it. People have thought he was awesome before -- mostly his Ma but you know, she counts -- but never like this. Never in the 'be with you forever' way that they have.

He sits as well and reaches over, taking Ephemera's free hand where it rests on the table as they eat. And he's imagining now what it's going to be like to share things with his partner when he's human, since this must've done it, right? He's pretty confident about that. They're going to be together and able to experience the same shit and it'll be rough... the timing isn't great but when will it ever be? Sometimes he just has to do things for himself. Things he wants. Things they want. Ephemera will support him, will have his back.

When dinner's gone he squeezes Ephemera's hand, a quiet request for him to look up.

"I love you, more than anything. Dessert and we call Lup?"

They stay like that, just sharing space. Holding hands. And there are times when Ephemera still wonders over how he's allowed to have this, to know this man and stand next to him and say yes, and mean forever. Despite everything, despite all the pieces of himself were flattened down or burned trying to be Sharkface, and the way he tried to embody a mission more than a body, he has this moment.

He hopes there were be a hundred more just like it. A thousand. As many as he can hold.

Drake's hand is steady in his. A focus point. No matter what the world throws his way, Ephemera has this. He nods, expression serious, and lifts their joined hands. Squeezes. It feels different with the rings now, but he likes that. The weight of it. "Thank you. For being you."

It ought to be said.

Ephemera pushes his bangs out of his eyes, and nods. "Yeah. She's gonna freak."

His voice is fond, though. He likes Lup. Her intensity. The way she sees him exactly how he is, and has never once shied from that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

semi-open;

Carolina; 4/17

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I'll backdate to the 11th to avoid all the events

sorry for the worst delay ever

Nick; mid May

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Lup; mid May

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Ephemera; mid may

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