All the White Horses have Gone Ahead

[tongueamok]

Who: Carlisle Longinmouth (tongueamok) + open + a closed prompt for Glacius (glacius)
What: People go missing, and panic ensues.
Where: Park, Speakeasy, Spire 2 (Apartment 401)
When: 6/5
Warnings: PGish


Overall, it's a nerve-wracking day for Carlisle, but what day isn't for the heir of the Longinmouth estate?

It starts out innocuously enough, as Carlisle makes his way to Emily's sewing shop. While he doesn't give his pupil regular lessons anymore -- she doesn't particularly need them -- he does still check in with her from time to time, getting her opinions on glyphs, seeing if she'll transcribe some things for him with her far-neater-than-his handwriting. With his papers in hand, he opens the door—

Or walks straight into the door, as it doesn't budge when he tries the knob. Carlisle backs up a step, straightening his glasses with a befuddled look. Locked? Peering into the window tells him she's not in -- odd. Emily sometimes has the early shift with that coffee cart she and her friends run, he reminds himself, but it's plenty late enough for her to be here.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and waits for a bit, figuring she might show up at any time. He waits ten minutes, then twenty before sighing again -- more irritably this time, as though Emily would hear him from wherever she is and appear to open the door for him. He pulls out his communicator, scanning down the list of residents to find her name... but it's not there.

Carlisle's brow furrows as he searches again, pulling the device closer to him and narrowing his eyes behind his glasses. He must have overlooked it, he tells himself. She's there, surely -- Emily has been in the city longer than he has. He simply missed her name. It's a trick upon his eyes by this accursed technology. Unfortunately, a second and third, more thorough search reveals he was right the first time, and that her name simply isn't on the contact list for the citizens of Hadriel anymore. Emily is gone -- from the list, from the communicators, and if that means what it has always meant, from the city entirely.

Oh.

That's a rather somber sort of oh that rings through Carlisle's head, worry etching across his face as he simply stands there, dumbfounded. He suffers through and entire minute, maybe more, of quiet shock before he finally tucks his communicator away and starts moving, aimlessly heading back into the city, his mind anywhere else but where he's actually going. It's not as though he hasn't had people disappear from the city: there was Miriam, Kate, Chris. He's lost friends before, though it always seems notable to him, as he doesn't have a great deal of friends to begin with. He's too private a person, too troublesome to deal with even on good days. Even Carlisle only likes himself in measured doses.

But Emily meant something to him. She was a student, someone who had taken an art he'd taught her and not only took it seriously, but made it her own; she was a friend, one who looked out for him even when he insisted she do otherwise. And now she's gone, just like the others, and there's that terrible sinking feeling that she wouldn't be if she'd not associated with him. It is said in his world that the twice-cursed are misfortune incarnate to those who would make the error of being near them, and Carlisle, at that moment, cannot think of a greater misfortune for Emily than being returned to a terrible monster-filled mountain where her friends are dead.

That's the sort of thought that riles Carlisle's natural paranoia, making him worry about other people who have associated with him. There's one being in particular he worries about more than any other.


Park [open]

Carlisle spends the early afternoon in the park, buried deep within the area in a spot that he and Glacius have turned into his latest garden. While not entirely hidden, it is set back far enough to be off the normal paths, a spot of green one might notice in the distance among the blasted trees near the riverside. There are rudimentary fences constructed of stone, mostly ones salvaged from debris when the city split into two and buildings deteriorated. There are plenty of plants, crawling vines and flowering shrubs that are a far cry from the ones found in Sorrow's orchard. There's even the base of a small building, a structure with four walls and a door that's mostly meant to serve as storage.

There's also a man who is clearly wrapped up in his own head, muttering to himself as he angrily prunes away at leaves on some smaller, potted specimens.

"I should have known this would happen," he grumbles in clear irritation, his tone absolutely embittered. Carlisle shifts the pot around to get a better angle on what needs to be cut away, removed for the betterment of the entire fern. Wouldn't that be something, to remove what -- or who -- poisons the entire city with his presence as easily as he removes those dying leaves?

Carlisle pushes his glasses to his forehead and paws at his eyes a moment, setting aside his shears to wipe his free hand on his gardening apron. That's not a productive thought, and he knows it, yet there it is all the same, a torrent of negative self-reflection threatening to pull him under. Would Emily still be here if he hadn't known her? Would Kate? Was there really no correlation, as she is always so apt to—

Was, Carlisle corrects inwardly. Emily was so apt to tell him that, just as Glacius is. How long will it be now until he brings misfortune to his icy partner, as well? Or to anyone else? Is there anything to even be done about it now? He has long lived with the knowledge that he is the failure of his bloodline, and that a cursed creature such as himself would only bring ill upon those closest to him. He'd thought that, perhaps, he could escape such a fate away from his world. He'd toyed with the idea that he had been led astray his whole life when people claimed him to be the reason his family line will die with him. He'd wondered, even for a moment, if he could be more than the most pathetic of the Longinmouth line, the weak link in a once-strong chain.

However, as he hurls one of his plants as far as he can throw it and rubs at his bleary eyes again, choking on the breath lodged somewhere in his throat, Carlisle decides he was clearly wrong to ever consider such nonsense.


Speakeasy [open]

The evening is spent searching for liquor. With the former bar gone, Carlisle makes his way to the Speakeasy, ready to drown his problems in his former vices. He knows better -- he knows his partner would be disappointed Carlisle didn't turn to him for solace from his deprecating thoughts. However, the more the despondent Carlisle considers pulling out his communicator and just calling Glacius... the more nervous he gets. Emily was close to Glacius, as well, and the alien is no doubt hurting from her loss... but what if he's no longer in the list of names, either? What if he's gone?

That's paranoia talking, Carlisle reminds himself... and yet, with how unnerved he is from the mere thought of the panic that will set in the second he sees Glacius' name is no longer among the residents of the city, he finds he cannot even bring himself to see if his fears are even valid. Not right now. Not yet.

Maybe after he's had a drink.

Though Carlisle does have a bottle sitting before him on a table in the corner, the hours tick by without him imbibing. He's instead sitting back there, still incessantly chattering to himself -- or maybe he's talking to the bottle at this point. It does have a cat's head sculpted right into the glass. It gives it character.

"I should- I should just do it," he mutters, his nails curling against the table as he runs his other hand through his hair for the umpteenth time; it is more unkempt than usual, his fastidiousness unraveling with this composure. "I don't know what I'm afraid of."

He seems to reconsider that lie within one second, as though the cat-bottle would judge him for his lack of conviction. "I mean, I know what I'm afraid of, but. I- I should trust he's fine. He's always fine. The sort who can accomplish anything he puts his mind to. In fact, he'll call me anytime now, surely."

Yes, anytime. And yet, despite this being the one time he hopes technology will come to his rescue, his communicator doesn't ring.


Apartment 401 [for glacius]

And by the time the late evening rolls around and the night is in full swing, Carlisle has worked himself into near panic. He barely manages to get inside his apartment, his hands shaking so badly that he can hardly maneuver the keys into the lock. "It's fine," he says aloud -- with no one, plant or otherwise, to talk to this time, he is absolutely talking to himself. That's not unusual, all things considered. "It's fine. Glacius is fine. He'll- he'll probably be waiting as it is. Back from his patrol, I'm sure. Hah, what took you so long, Carlisle? That's what he'll say. And I'll see this has all been for nothing. I mean, not nothing, as Emily is still gone. Still my fault she's gone, by the way. It's fine. It's just fine."

Unfortunately, the dwelling is empty when Carlisle finally gets the door open. His mind works into overdrive to keep himself from completely breaking down as panic latches onto him. "He's asleep," he reassures himself now, tossing aside his bag and heading right to Glacius' door. It's not like the alien to go to bed before Carlisle gets home, but then, it's not like Glacius to not call, nor is it like him to not be home already, nor is it like anything for Emily to just be up and gone. What a strange day it's been!

Carlisle knocks at the door, the nervous smile plastered across his face fading as fast as that brief, denial-born glimmer of flippant humor. "Glacius? I'm sorry I'm home so late. I- I stopped, er. Somewhere. Lost track of the time. Funny how that happens here in a cave."

Silence.

"I'll admit that, ah," he continues, stumbling over his words. He claws at the back of his neck with one hand, the other fumbling with his tabard. "It was the Speakeasy. Little place run by Miss Rey. You remember her, I'm sure, being on the Guard with her and all. Fantastic woman, sometimes. Not much of a conversationalist. She's got her merits, though."

Further silence. Carlisle fidgets uncomfortably, tension mounting in his shoulders.

"I- I didn't mean to break my word to you. I didn't drink. I mean- maybe just one swallow to take my mind off- well, there's been a lot on it today, actually. I- I should have called you, but- but I- I started thinking about, um. I just happened to notice today that Emily's name isn't in the phone anymore. Funny thing, really. And I wanted to call you with the communicator, but you know how I am with technology and... whatnot."

The clergyman pauses there, inwardly praying for an answer as the seconds tick by, the thudding in his chest growing painful the heavier it gets. Disappointment, irritation, remorse, anything. He pushes the door open when nothing comes. "... Glacius?" Though the icy bedroom is still there -- and still relatively icy -- the alien who usually inhabits it is nowhere to be found. He's out far later than he should be, Carlisle thinks to himself, trying to swallow the knot in his throat; it doesn't budge.

A shaky laugh forces itself out of Carlisle as he breaks the silence himself once more. "Something m- must have happened," he mumbles, trembling as horror sets in before it even has a full foundation. "Just- just a busy day for the Guard. I'll just- I'll just call, and it'll- it'll be fine."

Oh, but calling would require him to look at the list of names, he remembers, the reason he hasn't already made that call back to torture him once more as it paints a clear scenario in his mind's eye. Looking at that list would result in him not finding Glacius' name on it, surely. He'd deny it as much as he did earlier, searching the contacts again and again, but to no avail. And then he'd panic -- catastrophically so, as with the recent bout of frights, but far worse -- and that'd be just awful. It could be the easy solution, the logical part of him says; it could also be a shortcut to utter despair that he is currently not equipped to handle.

And where does that leave Carlisle Longinmouth, heir of the Longinmouth estate, in the wee hours of the morning? Hiding in his closet. It's a little cramped for his tall stature, but at least there's nothing to be terrified of in there -- nothing but the utter hopelessness consuming his own mind as he mutters another desperate prayer to his goddess. He doesn't know if she can hear him... but it's better than the thought that he might be alone.

Comments

[glacius]

Though Glacius' head cocks up at that dull thud from the other side of the door, he gets his first real surprise when it swings open and he actually sees just how bedraggled Carlisle truly looks. The second one comes when he's suddenly and adamantly embraced by his partner; the ice alien exhales in his grip, but otherwise seems more or less unbothered by it. Whatever pain having his injuries forcibly clamped like this is causing seems to take a backseat to the utter relief provided by the affection. After a day like today, it's something that is sorely needed.

"Yes--I am here," Glacius affirms, wriggling his arms free to return the embrace. "As I said, I am sorry it got so late. I--I did not mean to leave you alone for so long, I just... lost myself. Are you alright? You didn't have a nightmare, did you?" It's one of the only explanations that he can think of for the clergyman's behavior--the way he's so desperate to see and hold him again. The ice alien knows how rampant his partner's imagination can run and it's part of the reason he hates to leave him alone for any prolonged period of time, part of the reason he was pulled back to him...but he doesn't know how deep it runs, or that Carlisle's desperation is born of the same hurts that kept them apart for so long in the first place.

[tongueamok]

Despite the icy shell and the injuries, Carlisle remains against Glacius another moment, his fingers curling along the alien's back before he finally pulls himself away. Whatever had been holding his nerves back is quickly deteriorating, crumbling now that he knows his source of stability within Hadriel is still there to catch him, to break his fall. As the dam bursts, the words come pouring out of him.

"No, I—" he starts, his eyes falling as he takes in Glacius' condition. His hands are shaking as he runs them along Glacius' arms. "What- what happened? I- I knew I should call you, I really do, but Emily is gone and every time I thought of using the device to get a hold of you, I wondered if your name would be gone as well, and I couldn't- I couldn't bear the thought of that! She was close to you, and I should have reached out to you, I should have, but I thought of myself first and that's a regrettable choice on my part, but I couldn't take the thought you might not be here, and that the false gods had taken you as they'd taken her, because why would they leave you here with me when they know what misery they could inflict upon a miserable wretch like myself?"

He slows down there. He'd be visibly happier if he weren't so rattled by the sudden relief that washes over him, his apprehension fading, leaving him exhausted from the stress alone.

[glacius]

"What happened? You just answered your own question," Glacius responds simply to Carlisle's torrent of words, too tired to respond with much else. He has been fighting all day and all night, after all, and not just against physical monsters. Being allowed inside is going to wait, however--and that's alright with him. Soothing Carlisle is more important than seeing to his own exhaustion, especially now that the true cause of his desperation has been laid bare. No wonder the clergyman had seemed so panicked when he opened the door, and so utterly relieved to see him; it wasn't just Emily's loss that had been weighing on him. It's a sobering realization, that his departure could have such an impact on someone...

"You weren't the only one who discovered that Emily is gone... but I know how much you put up with on a regular day, and didn't want to weigh you down with this all over again. I sought other outlets. They were... not productive," speaking with Hannah as she looked over his injuries had helped him come to realize that, "And they kept me from you for longer than they should have. So I suppose we both messed up today. But--that doesn't make you a wretch. You must not be so quick to forget everything I have told you, Carlisle... all the confidence I have in you."

[tongueamok]

Despite Glacius' vote of confidence, Carlisle doesn't find himself very self-assured at that moment, certainly not when he caved to old vices in his desperate attempt to ease the rising burden of his fears. Later, he chides himself. He can tear into himself later for being a pathetic coward. For now, Glacius is here, and needs his help. They need each other.

He rests his forehead on Glacius' chest once more, only for a moment. "Perhaps we were both fools today, seeking respite in unproductive retreats rather than one another. We should cherish what we have while we have it."

That's not exactly a reassuring thought either, but it's a truth Carlisle has reminded himself time and time again throughout the day. What would he say if he saw Glacius again? What would he wish he had done? What would he regret?

He'd regret not taking care of his partner, for one. He relinquishes his grasp around Glacius' middle and leads the alien inside.

[glacius]

Glacius seems to enjoy the moment of quiet, lowering his head to give Carlisle's one of those reassuring nudges as he feels it come to rest against his broad chest. Unfortunately, putting his face so close to the human's allows him to detect the scent of his partner's betrayal in his breath, so when Carlisle turns around to lead him inside the alien simply stares in disbelief at his back... and when he speaks up again his tone is much sharper than the tired, dull affectation to his voice before. "Yes... I suppose we both were fools."

He at least follows the clergyman into their apartment, but suddenly any thoughts of sitting down or trying to rest have been banished from the otherworldly being's mind. Instead he closes the door behind them and then remains at the threshold; should Carlisle turn around, he'll see what looks a lot like hurt frustration painted plainly across Glacius' features. In fact, his intact mandible is clicking away, a lot like a human might gnash their teeth in anguish--it's not quite furious gill-rattling, but it's decidedly not a good sound, either.

"... You know, my people believe it is our actions that speak to our priorities above all else," the alien starts; he tries to keep the waver out of his voice, but it's been such a long day, and this is just one layer of hurt on top of all the others he's suffering. Despite it all, he's managing to talk himself down in his head, telling himself to at least give his partner the chance to explain himself. "I'll give you the opportunity to tell me the true reason why you didn't reach out to me. After all this time, would you still rather turn to your vices than to my support?"

[tongueamok]

As Glacius closes the door, Carlisle makes his way to the couch, moving the pillows aside to make room for his bulky partner before he pulls his right hand free of the glove covering it. Though he prepares himself to mend Glacius' physical injuries, it's not until he looks back and finds the alien still at the threshold of the apartment, his look far more wounded than his body, that the clergyman realizes not all is well.

He meets Glacius' eyes as the alien starts, but his guilt eventually weighs his head down; he fidgets with his tabard, as though it might help him weather the icy tension that seeps into the air, as frosty as the gusty breaths from the alien's gills. It takes Carlisle a second to find his voice this time; it is small when he does.

"I did not reach out to you not from the fear of disappointment," Carlisle begins, "but from the fear of what I would do were I to find you gone from my communicator."

That's an honest answer, but he feels it isn't enough. "I intended to tell you once I'd seen to your health. I- I tried to tell you already, when I thought you were perhaps in your room, buried in your sorrow when I hadn't come to your side as soon as I discovered someone who meant such a great deal to us both was gone. It was only when you did not answer that I realized you were not here."

His eyes fall for another moment, but he forces himself to look back to Glacius, the fear he spoke of contained within them, jailed by the determination woven into his brow. "I caved to my vices in a moment of weakness brought upon by a day of stewing in woes that could have been resolved with but a call. I feared you would be upset with me, yes... but that fear is nothing compared to what terror I felt when I thought you might be gone."

[glacius]

"So rather than try to address your fears, rather than try to turn to me, you instead turned to the one pursuit that you knew would hurt not just yourself, but us," Glacius rumbles, dropping his head to his hand, "And, sure enough, here we are. Tell me, Carlisle, what am I supposed to do with this knowledge? The support I have shown you, the strength and conviction that I have tried to share--it is not just to make you feel good about yourself in the moment. I have tried to teach you all this to prepare you for whatever else you may have to face in your life. I would hope that you would be able to hold to the strength I have shown you, even if we were to somehow end up apart. But you would discard it all before a single day is even through. I feel as though I am at my wit's end; I do not know what else I can even do for you in this regard."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle's lip quivers, his nose wrinkling with that self-disgust that eats him alive nearly every second of every day. As respectful as Glacius tries to be, it's all the more difficult to fight that inward loathing when he, of all people, is the one to aggravate it, whether he meant to or not.

"Glacius."

He pauses there, though not purposefully. He opens his mouth, but words don't flow as he second-guesses himself. He's wrong in this, Carlisle reminds himself. He's the one who broke his word, who panicked for no real reason, who let his fears dominate him once more. He's weak. He's always been weak. He always will be the weak link in his bloodline, no matter how strong he may have believed himself when in his partner's embrace.

His hands tremble again, the tabard between his fingers wrinkling as his shoulders stiffen. He'd better not ruin it -- there's no one but himself to repair it now. "I gave you my word I wouldn't imbibe but three months ago," he starts. "It's... hard sometimes, but I had done well to keep my word until now. I- I was trying to stave off what I thought was a worse outcome. I was afraid I would lose control of my abilities, as I have done so recently. I was afraid that—"

He cuts himself off there, the rest of him starting to shake. Glacius no doubt knows the kind of terrible inklings Carlisle entertains when he is at his lowest. That's not productive thinking, he tries to tell himself, but even his inward voice falters.

"I am well aware I made a mistake," he finally continues. "And in that, I am truly sorry. But- but in seeing Emily gone from my device and from this city, I realized I... I could not yet face even the mere notion of you being stolen from me, as well. She meant a great deal to me, Glacius -- more than I admit I thought she did. Losing her was... like losing my uncles again, or my father. People I cared about. People who supported me despite what I am. Despite everything."

His eyes flick back to his partner, his teeth baring as he bites back raw emotion. "But you are so much more to me. You are more to me than they ever were in so many ways, and I'm- I'm not yet ready to lose you. I couldn't bear the thought, and I buckled beneath the weight of it."

[glacius]

That at least gets Glacius to let up. He can't stay angry when his partner is going on and on about how much he cares about him, reminding the alien of how much the human means to him in turn. Moreover, Carlisle has had an extremely hard day--they both have--and the last thing he needs is the person who's supposed to be in his corner being hard on him, too. Heaving a shaky sigh, the otherworldly being finally moves into the room, sitting down on the couch that the clergyman has thoughtfully prepared and patting the cushion right next to him-- a clear invitation for the human to join him. Should he choose to sit down, the alien extends his hands palms-up, ready to clasp his partner's in a comforting manner.

"If you acknowledge your mistake and apologize, then that is all I need," the ice alien murmurs, lowering his head slightly. "And--you are right. You have done well with your promise. You have faced plenty of other hardships over the course of those months without giving in once. You are strong, and a good partner to put that much effort into changing your ways for the good of what we have."

Glacius pauses now, trying to look briefly into Carlisle's eyes; whether or not he meets them, the alien releases one of his hands to pull him into an embrace. "And you are not the only one who should be apologizing here. For I realize now that I caved to my own self-destructive behaviors... and in doing so, left leave you feeling just as alone as I did. I did not mean to do this, nor did I mean to contribute to what an awful day you've had. I wouldn't have, if I had known how much Emily's loss was going to weigh on you... you've never seemed affected by these things in the past..." The ice alien sighs again, then tightens his hug. "But I know now. So--never again. Alright, Carlisle? I promise that from here on out, I will be here if you need me."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle waits silently for Glacius to pass judgment on him, as he has already done to himself; however, such judgment never comes as the alien finally makes his way into the apartment and takes a seat on the couch. He accepts the silent offer to join his partner, the smallest glimmer of hope appearing in the clergyman's eyes as he hesitates for only a second, then sits, clasping Glacius' hands with a tremulous grasp as the alien attempts to bolster him. Carlisle finds it difficult to believe such things on normal days -- given how unusually stressful this one has been, he cannot even begin to consider them.

Though they may be clouded with doubt and frustration, Carlisle does bring his eyes to meet his partner's, only to find himself pulled into an embrace a moment later. His body stiffens for a second, then two, before he finally relaxes in Glacius' arms. Bringing his hands to rest on the alien's chest, he closes his eyes -- he feels so tired.

"We were both fools," he shudders, struggling to find the words to express his relief -- the relief that Glacius is home, that the alien won't abandon him in a bout of disappointment, that they still have one another. "I promise to call you next time, or have someone do it. I was... simply afraid, Glacius. More so than I have been in some time. It was not birds, nor bears, nor any of the haunts the false gods could conjure, but the thought of losing someone I love so dearly that nearly destroyed me."

[glacius]

"Yes... do that, next time," Glacius chuckles, the vocalization sounding more exhausted than anything else. "I know you were afraid, but it is as I have always said: you cannot let your fears dictate your actions. We go through enough here as it is... and just as you cannot stand the thought of losing the one you love so dearly, watching the one that I love to that same extent suffer in any capacity wracks my hearts with grief."

[tongueamok]

Glacius is right, of course, Carlisle chides himself. He sighs heavily, leaning into his partner another moment before he finally pulls from the embrace. He has work to do.

"I'll tend to your wounds, then perhaps we can sit under the stars Emily crafted for us. I believe that would be a proper way to honor her, don't you?"

[glacius]

Glacius seems reluctant to relinquish his hold, but does so after a moment more and one more reassuring squeeze. Then he leans back, tilting his head in confusion at the first part of the cleric's suggestion. "My wounds..? They have already been cleaned and dressed. I'll be fine... you need not exert yourself further on my behalf after an already draining day."

[tongueamok]

"Cleaned and dressed, but not by someone who knows what they're doing." He apparently noticed that, despite whomever attended to the alien's wounds having put forth their best effort.

His brow furrows. "Please, Glacius."

[glacius]

"They knew what they were doing," Glacius replies immediately, quick to defend someone who helped him--especially one who took time out of their night to do so, despite having plenty of their own problems. "Just... not with the inner layers of my anatomy. But that's not their fault, and as long as everything is covered I'm not at any risk..."

But he knows that look on his partner's face, recognizes the guilt and determination interlaced together in his tone. The ice alien sighs again. "Is there no way I can convince you to save your energy?" The injuries aren't serious enough to be particularly draining, but after seeing Carlisle so run down in the past, Glacius is always going to lean towards the overly cautious side.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle knows Glacius worries -- to be fair, he has plenty of reason to do so, given the way Carlisle's condition seems to be worsening as time moves on -- but he gives his partner as reassuring a look as he can muster after an exhausting day.

"Today has been more emotionally draining than physically, and I would feel better knowing I was able to help you recover."

[glacius]

Glacius tries to return that reassuring smile as best as he can, but it's clear his hearts aren't in it, given how he's feeling settled about precisely none of what has transpired today. At least his words are only gently teasing, and plainly fond, calling back to something Carlisle had said to him so long ago it feels like they were different people: "I thought you had your own problems to worry about without getting dragged down into the affairs of others."

Nonetheless, he starts on some of the dressings, beginning with what's been wrapped around his left forearm. It's not unusual to see his limbs with the brunt of the wounds given the range he tries to keep his opponents at; what is strange is the damage to his hands. The scuffs and cracks across them, the broken and bloodied knuckles... having seen two of his species in plenty of fights before, Carlisle should be aware enough of the fact that Glacius doesn't usually pummel things with bare fists. No, normally he weaponizes them with a shift to maximize impact and protect himself... perhaps feeling his own body start to give under repeated duress was easier than focusing on the caving of his hearts.

[tongueamok]

The clergyman's eyes flick to his partner's injured hands, his brow knitting tighter with concern. He's seen Glacius fight plenty of times, and Algidus before that; he is well aware that the aliens prefer to shit their limbs into weapons, tools that both defeat their foes and defend their underbodies.

He reaches for Glacius' hand, his own touch delicate, careful as he seeks to examine the wounds. His eyes are only upon them momentarily before they flick back to Glacius, outright worry written across him. Such a show of brutality as pummeling something with his bare fists until they bleed is something he'd expect more of an aggressive being like Algidus rather than the gentle giant he knows Glacius to be.

And that's worrying in an entirely new way.

[glacius]

Glacius does his best not to hiss in pain as Carlisle extends his limb and he uncurls his fingers; he seems to fall into quiet self-examination for a time, until he realizes the clergyman's gaze has shifted from the wounds to his face. The concern in them has changed, too, though the ice alien can't quite tell how... all he knows is that the way his partner is looking at him is unsettling. Maybe it's because Carlisle himself looks perturbed, rather than just worried on his behalf.

"What is it..? Are you reconsidering your offer? It's... alright if you're not feeling up to it."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle's gaze darts between Glacius' eyes and his injured hands. "I- no, no I'm not reconsidering it. I just- I..."

He clasps Glacius' fingers, careful not to put pressure on his battered knuckles. "Why did you not protect your hands, Glacius?"

Though he asks, he has a feeling he already knows.

[glacius]

Glacius hangs his head, suddenly looking very tired all over again. He doesn't try to skirt around the subject or make excuses; he speaks plainly, but sadly. "...I suppose we all beat ourselves up in different ways."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle's head dips, his disappointment clear -- it is not with Glacius, but with himself, with their circumstances. "We do, indeed."

He stares sadly at Glacius' hands only another moment before closing his eyes. The alien can no doubt feel the quiet thrum of energy course through his knuckles, magic wrapping around and reaching into him to repair the damage done, traveling the courses cut by the microweave and into his musculature. However, despite what Carlisle had insisted he do, that energy stops before it travels up Glacius' limbs, leaving his hands the only parts healed.

"There," he whispers. Though apparently done with his work, Carlisle keeps his hold on Glacius' fingers. "A compromise on how far we push ourselves in this trying time, then."

[glacius]

"I'd argue that you shouldn't have wasted even that much on me when this is all my own fault, but... hah, I know better," Glacius murmurs, flexing his hands experimentally once that burning sensation begins to fade. At least the pain associated with Carlisle's craft has become a good kind of hurt, as it marks his physical suffering being excised. "And... I wanted it."

He figures that's important to say, probably long overdue by this point. The ice alien knows that he puts up a lot of fuss when it comes to this, and while it's out of concern for his partner's deteriorating condition, he still can't imagine it feels very good when the clergyman considers this his one true calling. It's probably not unlike the way he feels when Carlisle protests his attempts to protect him by physically fighting off his tormentors, after all. He doesn't want his partner to feel like the lengths that he goes to for him go unappreciated, so he leans his head forward, nudging the human gently with his forehead.

"So... thank you, Carlisle."

[tongueamok]

It's only after Glacius offers his appreciation that Carlisle finally manages to meet his gaze once more -- he does so before leaning in to meet his partner's forehead with his own, returning the gesture that they've made truly theirs.

"Just... don't do it again," he utters, a hint of quiet desperation in his voice. "I don't like what this torment does to you."

Nor who it reminds him of.

[glacius]

"I could say both of those things about your drinking," Glacius huffs, but most of his frustration seems to be turning itself inward now as he clenches his fists. His hands might not hurt anymore thanks to Carlisle's healing, but the tightening of the muscles up to his wrists still causes the injuries there to ache in protest. "Anyways, it's... not like I enjoy it, either. But I--I don't know what else to do to relieve this... this bitterness, this hurt, this loss. There's nothing I can do about it, Carlisle. They're gone and I have to live with that. Feeling as though I had no one else to turn to, I thought... maybe I could vent it through combat, pushing my body to exhaustion so that the only pain I could focus on was from the injuries I accrued."

Unfortunately it didn't work and he knows that, if the helpless turmoil bubbling just underneath his icy exterior is any indication. Even now the clergyman can probably feel the alien fighting to keep the worst of those grief-filled tremors tamped down, not wanting to end up breaking down like he did the last time he lost someone so dear to him.