Give Us This Day...

Entry tags:

Give Us This Day...

Who: Glacius (

glacius) and Carlisle (

tongueamok).
What: Baking lessons!
Where: Glacius and Carlisle's apartment.
When: Forward-dated to the 10th of January or so.
Warnings: N/A, will update as the need arises.

It has been only a couple of days since the illusion of their shiny, clean, and perhaps most importantly open-skied city had dissipated, and it had been as difficult to go back to the dreary cave setting as Glacius had expected. Every now and then he would still find himself looking up... not an unusual habit for a being that hailed from the stars and longed for them every night, but one that had an especial impact when he was hoping against home that he might be lucky enough to catch even a glimpse of a sky. It wasn't to be, however... which meant that all that was left to him was to fall into old routines to try and make himself useful. The vacation was nice but there was work to be done--everyone was trying to keep themselves occupied in their own ways.

That included his roommate, it turned out, who had given the alien a list of things to keep an eye out for shortly after Hadriel had settled back to normal. Glacius didn't mind the added errand; he was happy for another distraction, especially if it would help his friend in some way. He'd procured everything that he could over the course of the past few days and was apparently going to find out what it all was for tonight, as Carlisle was busy partaking in a ritual from home when the icy being made his way back to the apartment just as the odd light of the cave was beginning to dim. He came in the door clad in his partial set of armor, which he'd taken to wearing in public or while staffed at the Guard's headquarters to conceal the wasted visage that the right side of his face had become, fears of what people might think upon seeing the ugly scars still lingering. The first thing Glacius noticed was the scent that was coming from the kitchen and filling the main room-- it was light, reminiscent of nuts or possibly grains... and very good, whatever it was.

"Carlisle? I have returned," the otherworldly being called out as he moved further into the apartment. His curiosity was piqued, and though he wasn't surprised to see Carlisle there, he was surprised to see the kitchen around him in quite a state. There was heat coming from one of the built-in appliances, various wooden utensils and tools set out beside him (neatly, the clergyman was almost always neat, apparently even in this endeavor), and some sort of white powdery substance coating the countertop before him. His religious vestments had been removed, leaving only his form-fitting base layers and some new sort of garment that tied around his waist and neck... Glacius wasn't sure what to make of any of it, but he was intensely interested. The towering alien came up on the other side of the counter as he removed his helmet and tucked it under one long arm, the better to look over everything again.

"You've been busy while I was out, it seems. Is this what you wanted all of those items that I have been bringing back for the past few days for? ...What is all of this, even?"

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It's odd for Carlisle to think of how only a month or so ago, he'd been so afraid of breaching Glacius' personal bubble, of crossing that line of privacy that the both of them guard so carefully. Even when he'd needed to put his hands on Glacius for a medical inspection or to heal his bleeding wounds, he'd been so tentative, so careful in just how he touched the alien, how long he allowed there to be physical contact between the two of them. It wasn't just for Glacius' comfort, but for his own, as well: Carlisle has never been the type to like anyone or anything getting within his personal boundary. He likes to keep things at arm's length, where he has time to react (and run), if necessary.

But he stands there quietly, letting Glacius turn his face this way and that, neither complaining nor pulling away -- the alien had been so obedient during his examinations, and he does the same in turn. In the silence between them, he can hear a painful thudding resonating through him: it pounds through his chest and up into his head, feeding the headache that's been building there. What helps soothe the pain is the coolness of Glacius' touch, his mere presence chilling the air around them both.

Carlisle can't help but rest his face just a bit more in the icy alien's hand, relishing that brief moment where his head feels better -- he feels better. He sighs as he utters a quiet word of thanks, grateful for the company they've found in each other despite their strange circumstances, their very different worlds, and their individual needs regarding solitude. Most times, they are private beings, him and Glacius; however, Carlisle is increasingly enjoying Glacius' attention to him, his faithful companionship.

That kind of change in his own behavior scares Carlisle a little, if he's honest with himself. At least Glacius would have no problem helping him face such fears, or standing before them in his stead, if it were possible.

Edited 2017-01-10 11:42 (UTC)

The quiet significance of the contact is not lost on Glacius either, though he's had much more time to adjust and consider it all throughout his lengthy healing process and all of the examinations and tending contained therein. While the truth of the matter is that while the ice alien would honestly still prefer to keep most beings in this cave at arms length (or most beings that weren't of his own species in general), there are a select few who have proven themselves to be trustworthy enough, and thus the alien has lowered his walls for considerably. Carlisle has more than qualified through all their shared time together... and more importantly, the things that they have gone through together and the the parts of their past that they have shared have made the transition from tentatively wary to trusting and appreciative feel... more natural. Neither were the sort to leave each other to battle their demons or suffer their physical wounds alone, and so they kept lending more of themselves to see the other through their struggles. Was it all that surprising that they've ended up closer because of it?

The otherworldly being no longer seems to thinks so. He chirps out affirmation to the clergyman's quiet thanks, but he hadn't missed the way the human had leaned against his hand, and that sort of posturing combined with his mentions of stiffness and pain have put a little niggling worry in the alien's hearts. Something still feels a little bit off to him, and though he doesn't like to pry, he's not one to stand by and turn a blind eye to someone's suffering either. Glacius lowers his head, a tentatively concerned expression on his face.

"Are you weary, Carlisle?" the alien asks, looking his friend over. "Perhaps we should sit down for a moment."

Carlisle feels himself redden. Part of it is from embarrassment at his physical ineptitude: to be so weary from kneading, stress, and the whole 'feeding a vampire on a monthly basis' that might have something to do with it is admittedly mortifying, as well as a reflection in just how poor his health can be. The other part is that he doesn't quite know how to deal with all the care Glacius is showing him yet; however, he appreciates it all the same. When his options are 'rest quietly' and 'rest quietly with Glacius,' it's obvious to him which is the more preferable choice.

And again, it is one he wouldn't have chosen a few months ago. He's changed, but is it for the better? Is it an improvement to put his friend in a position where he worries about him, where he feels the need for them to rest like this?

Carlisle tries to shake those paranoid thoughts, reminding himself that Glacius is a caring soul, one who needs the validation of feeling useful as much as he does. It keeps them moving; they are helping each other along.

And so he nods. "I think we've both earned a rest," he remarks, reaching behind his back to untie his apron. He pulls it over his head and sets it on the counter before heading into the sitting area, making his way toward the couch.

Glacius nods approval, following Carlisle into the main room, waiting for the man to settle on the couch before he joins him. Thankfully the furniture is big enough to fit both of them with a little bit of spare room, which the ice alien opts to leave between them as he settles against the opposite arm so as not to crowd or cramp the clergyman. He does, however, turn to face him, swiveling his head about and leaning forward slightly so that his gaze is more level with the human's.

"I admit that I... don't like seeing you out of sorts, my friend, especially when it seems to be... a reoccurring issue. Now, you've told me it is nothing too serious or dangerous, so while you have given me no reason to doubt you..." the ice alien sighs, rubbing at his forehead briefly as concern paints his features, "...My trust does not mean that I will turn a blind eye to the suffering of a friend. Is there truly nothing else that can be done to help outside of rest? You said that common human medicine does not have much of an effect, but there... must be something else..."

Carlisle's eyes dart away with guilt as Glacius points out the little falsehoods he presents on almost a daily basis, the continued reassurances given by his nervous smiles and insistences that he's fine poor facades for someone who sees through him so easily, given their closeness. As much as he does not want to be a burden to Glacius by needing his help so often, he realizes well enough that allowing the alien to worry about him so often is, in itself, another burden to bear.

So he accepts, but still pushes a sigh from the back of his throat in self-disapproval, knowing he'll be troubling the alien either way. "I usually use glyphcrafting to ease anything I cannot stand for long. There's an herbal remedy the Forest Folk use, which combines well with it."

"Oh, ah--I believe I saw you do that once, a long time ago, the ah... the first night you stayed here, actually," Glacius recalls, placing a hand to his chin as he thinks about it. That thought piggybacks off of another one, and he blinks at Carlisle. "You said that the glyphcrafting could be taught, did you not..?"

"It can," he replies. He pauses a moment. "Are- are you interested in learning, Glacius?"

Glacius goes quiet and thinks about that for a moment. Normally, he has no real desire to train himself in other being's abilities; about the only time he ever does if he wishes to grow more knowledgeable about them so that he can counter them better in a fight. As far as learning for his own use, however... he is both perfectly confident and comfortable with his own powers. But this is different--it's not for a fight and it's not for himself, either. It's to find another way to help out his friend, and he can't think of a single good reason not to pursue that.

So he pulls his hand away from his chin and raises his head. "Well, if this is one of the only things that can help you feel better when your body starts to give out on you like this... it makes sense for your roommate to know how to prepare it, doesn't it? This way I can... take care of you a little better. Help you out when you need it. So... yes." The ice alien nods, "I believe I am."

Carlisle chuckles tiredly, pushing himself off the couch. "Well, hopefully you won't have to do this terribly often," he says, heading for his room. He returns a moment later with some supplies and sets them on the coffee table before going over to one of his plants near the window.

"Not that I don't appreciate your help," he clarifies, plucking some leaves from the pot. "I just- I don't want to trouble you, and it's not often my hands get like this."

Or so he says.

"I'm sure it will be no trouble," Glacius responds, waving a hand. "Certainly no more trouble than you spending every night for multiple weeks not only scrutinizing, cleaning, and dressing my wounds, but also making sure that I was eating and resting and also helping me battle my personal demons."

As the alien speaks, the look he levels at Carlisle becomes more and more pointed. His message is clear: if the clergyman is going to do everything in his power to make sure that he comes out the other side of whatever life has to throw at them alright, then he damn sure is going to return that favor. And he's not going to be deterred from it, either.

That determination gets Glacius a defeated smile. There's no winning this argument, Carlisle.

"I suppose you do owe me a favor or two," he teases, bringing the leaves back to the table and taking a seat on the couch once more. He's a little closer to Glacius this time as he leans over and sets up a few things. First are sheets of paper, then a jar of ink, followed by a couple of small paintbrushes, one of which already has a piece of fabric wrapped around the shaft, making it easier for someone with less dexterity to handle it. It's only a coincidence that it's perfect for Glacius -- numb fingers don't grip so well.

He gets his own brush, his hand shaking slightly as he draws some circles on the page before him. "Thankfully, this glyph isn't terribly complicated. Just reparation and breath." I will need to boil some water, as well."

"We have already discussed that this is not about favors," Glacius responds, not quite cottoning on to the teasing there. He just wants the friendship to remain as strong and healthy as it has been... which can be difficult when one of the parties involved is not so healthy. So maybe some of his fears about Carlisle's condition are bleeding through here, but his hearts are, as always, in the right place.

He seems ready to get right to it when the clergyman sits down next to him, rubbing his hands together briefly as he leans forward, the better to look over everything the human has brought up. As per usual, most everything used here seems pretty primitive--he can't remember the last time he saw his people using pen an paper, save for the few other marshals stationed at Alliance outposts with other species--but if it suits Carlisle's purpose, then that's all that matters. He seems okay with everything, plucking up one of the brushes and following along easily enough... until he hears that boiling water is involved in this process. He blinks, lifting his head up slightly as the realization strikes him.

"A-ah. Yes. I... do remember that, now that you mention it," the alien comments, more tentative now but doing his best to gather up his determination. "That will probably be the most counter-intuitive part of this whole process for me, but I should... I should learn at some point, especially if it can contribute to your comfort and your health."

"Er, right. We can pass on the tea for now." He does get back to his feet again, though his trip is short this time -- all he grabs is that wineglass from the kitchen, bringing it back after refilling it. "Tea works best by far, but in a pinch, you can infuse other drinks. This will do for now."

He puts his hand on the page. "I'll give you a more detailed lesson another time, but for this, we'll just go over the very basics. This circle here" —he points to the inner circle and the triangle within— "is the stage, where the actual magic occurs, so we'll set this here."

Placing the wine glass in the triangle, he continues. "This circle around that is the platform. You can inscribe additional directions between the stage and platform, but it's not necessary for this, as we'll be dictating what to do with these two smaller circles."

And in those he draws a couple of symbols, notably a spiral and an odd Y. "What these do," he continues, flexing his fingers idly, "is tell the glyph what elements to use in its activation."

"Wait, what?" Glacius blinks, setting down the brush and looking after Carlisle in confusion when he departs for the kitchen. The clergyman returns quickly and seems intent on continuing with the lesson, and the alien listens intently as he's probably come to expect from him--but ultimately shakes his head, holding up his hand to signify the human to stop for a moment. This is the opposite of what he just suggested, or of what he intended to suggest... perhaps his wariness came through more than he was expecting.

"While I appreciate you being mindful of my comfort... I should learn to do this the most effective way." No matter what he's learning, his dedication and attention to detail means that he wants to do it right... and he's also just not sure how he feels about Carlisle starting on another drink already. "If tea works the best by far, then let us use that. Will it cause any adverse effects if we are to remove that drink from the stage?"

Edited 2017-01-11 14:55 (UTC)

Though Carlisle gives Glacius an unsure look, he does relent. "No, not yet, as we haven't actually put forth any magic into the glyph."

He removes the glass from the paper, and as promised, nothing happens. He may be agreeing to use tea, but he still seems stubborn enough to not make Glacius brew it as he slides some paper the alien's way. "Here. You practice the glyph, I'll make the tea."

Glacius snorts again, his stubbornness butting up against Carlisle--at least their first dispute is over who is going to get to help the other most. If that's the worst argument they can say that they've gotten into throughout the course of this friendship, then they must be doing alright. "How am I supposed to learn if you make it? I said I would do it. Instruct me."

His hands may be aching, but Carlisle is apparently well enough to argue.

"It's just tea, Glacius," he returns. "You boil the water, drop in the leaves, let it sit for a few minutes, then set the cup on the glyph. I'd rather not have you deal with any more heat than necessary for one day."

"'Just tea'-do I look like I know what goes into making a boiling cup of liquid, Carlisle? I've never even used the stove before!" the ice alien grumbles back, frustrated that his efforts to make himself better prepared to help out are being confounded. "I don't have this fancy technological weave for nothing, it was made to regulate my body temperature. As long as I don't dump the contents of the mug all over myself I will be just fine, I promise."

Tag him in, coach! He's ready!

"I said we can use another drink," Carlisle cuts back, irritated by both his own feelings of ineptitude and that Glacius would repeatedly go out of his way for him. He already went through the trouble of retracting the icy layer of his hands, putting up with a lot of unnecessary pain just to make some bread. The alien might want to spend time with the clergyman, but Carlisle can hardly stand to watch him put himself in perceived danger just to do it.

"But you said tea would work the best by far," Glacius responds, "Not that it was an acceptable substitute, or that it was even anywhere close. And that... is what I want to give you, Carlisle. The best." The ice alien puffs out a little sigh now, tension ebbing from his voice. "After everything you've been through, it's... what you deserve."

"What I deserv—"

But he cuts himself off before he finishes that thought. Glacius wouldn't approve of such lines of thinking Pulling in a breath, he sighs, frustrated with himself for arguing over something as trivial as tea.

"Fine. Tea, then. But do not drop it on yourself."

He says that like he cares... probably because he does.

Glacius' mandible twitches once as Carlisle starts to retort... but then the clergyman actually acquiesces, and the alien seems heartened by the fact that he's finally being allowed to help. He gives his friend a look that is appreciative, both for the human allowing him to act and for his audible concern, then nods wordlessly and rises up from the couch. Now... he just has to figure out how to do this. Thankfully the kettle sticks out from the rest of their pots and pans, what with its long spout and unique handle configuration; the otherworldly being fills it with water and sets it on the stove stop, but now he's hit a road block.

"Ah... it's this knob here on the front, right?" While he feels a little bit bad for bothering Carlisle, and a little stupid for even having to ask-- he probably shouldn't go on guesswork here. If he accidentally sets something on fire or causes an explosion (can that happen with this appliance??) he imagines he'll lose any future tea-making privileges.

"Yes, that one," Carlisle says, the defeat in his voice light. He heads back to the kitchen himself to help, or to supervise, at the very least.

"You'll want to watch for the water to boil. When it starts bubbling is when it's ready. Until then, we can prepare the leaves."

He sets the leaves he picked earlier onto the counter, careful not to let the curved thorns at the end stick to him. "We'll need to cut off the little claws, obviously. Don't want to end up drinking those by mistake."

Bless you, Carlisle, for putting up with all of this; that seems to be the sort of instruction the ice alien was searching for in the first place. Glacius gives a click of confirmation and turns the front burner of the stove on--a small flame comes to life with a quiet whumpf, causing the ice alien to skitter backwards in surprise. He stares tensely at the burner for a moment, but when the fire doesn't hiss or spark or start to spread but rather remains at a steady, content burn underneath the kettle--and moreover when the clergyman doesn't react with any alarm--the alien begins to gradually relax.

Though he seems reluctant to avert his eye from the flame, he does so eventually, moving back over to where Carlisle is preparing the leaves. "Oh--allow me," Glacius suggests, seeming happy to have something he can be useful in as he extends one icy hand. "My armor makes the claws no problem whatsoever. This way neither of us will get pricked."

Glacius' reaction doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the clergyman -- in fact, it just reminds him of a time when another ice alien he knew got caught by flames, and suffered greatly for it. Those were better times.

He rubs at his chest a moment before getting to those leaves; however, Glacius stops him, and he's happy to hand them over, his mind elsewhere for the moment.

"Of course," he mutters a hair noncommittally. "You'll, er. You can just pull them out, if need be. Once they're gone, drop them into a mug, and you'll pour the boiling water atop them. Just- just be careful it doesn't splash on you."

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