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]

"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.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle does indeed feel it: Glacius' turmoil ripples through his energies enough that someone sensitive to such fluctuations -- such as his magic-using lover holding his hands -- could detect it. Even if Carlisle was someone unskilled in magical arts, he could see the alien's suffering written in his features, feel the quake of those strong hands as he struggles with a fight he cannot possibly win.

And he certainly couldn't win it in the way he tried to. Battling grief with aggression is fitting for someone like Algidus, but not Glacius. Never Glacius, whom Carlisle can only see as a beacon of honor and goodness in a horrible place like Hadriel. He only fights when he must, and only to defend those he cares for. That must include himself from time to time.

But Carlisle knows that is a challenge Glacius cannot win alone. They are in this together.

"We will relieve it with one another," he says quietly, "And in our own way. The burden of loss is not an easy one, but it is one we must, unfortunately, endure. Meeting such hopelessness with hostility, however... it isn't you."

He reaches to meet Glacius' scarred face with his hand, his eyes searching for his partner's gaze.

[glacius]

Glacius will always be surprised by just how in-touch Calrisle can be to his energies without a metaphysical link between the two of them. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself so everything can cycle more regularly... but until achieves greater emotional stability, those fluctuations will persist. Perhaps talking through this will help him figure out how to get to that point. "And my own way of relieving the anger or frustration I feel over this lot in life is... usually exercising myself in combat. But... I must be careful that it remains productive, that I do not lose myself to it, which is... easier said than done, in situations like this."

The alien sighs, his shoulders slumping, not able to quite free himself from the pull of depression brought on by the loss of his friends and the removal of crucial parts of his support network. It will take time above all else, he knows that now, but the thought that he doesn't have to endure that alone is a heartening one. "...So how do we do this, then? I've never had to... to come with someone with something like this before." Not before Kate's disappearance, anyways, and while Carlisle had helped with the loneliness then, he hadn't been overly sympathetic to the burden of loss that he's suggesting they deal with together now.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle may struggle at times to connect with Glacius in terms of emotion, but meeting Glacius' energies with his own and finding a way to make them work together has never been difficult for him. Perhaps magical energy isn't all that different from the ones coursing through the alien; perhaps he is simply a skilled healer, more so than he gives himself credit for. Or perhaps it is sheer coincidence -- one he refuses to take for granted.

He keeps a hold of Glacius' hand with one of his own, using the other to reach to the shelf below the coffee table for one of his spare journals. Pulling it into his lap, he flips through it a moment: each page has a glyph on it, spare ones he's scribbled on the lined paper for when he hasn't the time -- or use of his hands -- to draw another. He finally chooses a page -- the glyph Emily crafted for Glacius, for them.

"Emily did always like the thought of, ah. The two of us. I believe it would be appropriate that we comfort one another under the stars she crafted."

[glacius]

Glacius busies himself by sweeping a thumb over the back of Carlisle's thumb while he fishes around for the journal, then spends some time thumbing through its pages upon procuring it. Once he sees just which glyph the clergyman has selected, the ice alien can't help but flinch noticeably; though this particular illustration has been drawn by his partner, he recognizes its origins as none other than Emily's handiwork. It makes him ache for his lost friend all over again.

"She... she was always so invested in making me happy," the ice alien mourns, reaching out with his free hand to trace his frozen fingertips over the lines, as if it could somehow connect him to her. Rather than leaping straight to comfort, he seems to want to take time to remember her, even though it hurts. One can't move past the pain without allowing themselves proper time to mourn, after all; that he's doing it in front of Carlisle just shows how much he trusts him. "And in us, and in all her friends. We are all poorer for her loss... and I feel that acutely, given how adamantly she supported and believed in me."

[tongueamok]

"She was, if nothing else, adamant in her beliefs," Carlisle says somberly, setting the journal aside. He doesn't activate it just yet, watching as Glacius runs his fingers over the lines, as though they'd tell the alien where Emily was, what exactly had happened to her. Carlisle doesn't trust the Door, nor the claim that the false gods have no control over it. The question is if she truly was returned home, was sent elsewhere, or if she is even among the living any longer.

But he keeps those thoughts to himself so as not to bring his partner down. Carlisle is well aware it's in his nature to be... a bit of a downer. It comes with the territory of his work and his condition, he supposes.

"I will remind you of that adamant support next time you refer to yourself as a creature," Carlisle says. It's a comment made with a light air, but it's an absolute truth: Emily wouldn't stand to hear Glacius debasing himself, and neither will he. Someone will have to pick up her sharpness regarding that now that she's gone.

[glacius]

"It might take more than that to fill in for the gap she has left... she and Kate," Glacius confesses, followed by a morose chuckle. "You... might be working overtime for a while. Sorry."

At least until he manages to rebuild a new support network in place of the one that has now been torn apart--and given how these losses will likely affect his ability to open himself up to people for some time, who knows when that will happen. The alien lowers his eyes, pulling his hand back from the page of the journal, allowing Carlisle to proceed if he so desires; maybe comfort is a better option than talking right now. His partner still doesn't seem to get it completely, and there's nothing to say that hasn't already been said anyways, Glacius supposes.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle emits a quiet sigh as he keeps his eyes on his partner, trying to read him in the silence that follows. Glacius' features may be alien, but they are familiar to Carlisle, who has spent so many moments studying his face, following the curves and angles with his fingertips, memorizing the musculature through touch and sensation. Given his intimate knowledge, it isn't hard for him to watch Glacius' expression and realize he's not helping as much as he'd like.

It's different than in his church: there, he would listen to the troubles and confessions of his congregation with a sympathetic ear, comfortable with the distance between himself and the heart of the matter. He could play the neutral party well enough; to try to comfort another when he was hurting himself was far more challenging. His natural inclination is to feign polite indifference, to keep himself at an emotional distance. That's his job as clergy, his duty.

But what is his duty as a friend? As a partner? He wishes he knew as his eyes fall, his hand tightening around Glacius' in his grasp.

"You needn't apologize," he murmurs, feeling inadequacy creep up his neck, weighing down his shoulders. His brow tightens, shoulders stiffening as he does his best to steel himself against his insecurities.

"Tell me," he continues, his voice quiet, but with a soft undercurrent of urgency, "what is it I can do for you in this time? What is it I can do to help you?"

He asks because when he looks within, he finds he doesn't know, despite all they've been through.

[glacius]

"I... don't know. This is all so new to me... I think I'm still figuring that out," Glacius confesses, but at least now that the offer is on the table he spends some time thinking about it. His brows knit together tightly as he stares down at the cracks and wounds mottling his forearms, only lifting his head to gaze at Carlisle after some time has passed.

"I guess I just feel like you're... always so distant," the alien continues carefully, "And that's... saying something, coming from a being who belongs to a species who usually keeps what they are feeling under control. I'll piece myself back together eventually, but in the meantime I suppose it would just be... nice to have a someone close by who I knew understood or sympathized with what I was feeling. Like... when I went to visit Emily after Kate's disappearance. She wasn't as close to her as I was, I don't think, but she still... said that it 'sucked' and that she was really sorry that I was hurting so much."

The alien thinks about it, a little wavering huff pushing itself out of his body. "I know that seems rather simple, but... I don't need you to try and fix this for me. It's not something that can be fixed; nothing can bring them back, and nothing can replace them or fill the hole their disappearance has left. I just need time to be allowed to feel what I'm going to feel, and I just need you... to be here for me in that interim. I just need to know that you understand me, and that you... feel for what I'm going through."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle's eyes fall again, but he nods, his silent way of saying he will try. That is the best he can do, isn't it? To just try to understand his partner, someone with whom he has been more open, more intimate than any other.

And yet, Emily was better at this than he is. Emily was better at glyphcrafting, too. She was talented beyond reason, and now she's gone, and Glacius is left with no one to help but a man who can't seem to understand just why it is he hurts so, who gets so wrapped up in his own anxieties that he can't see beyond his glasses. Carlisle knows he'd be utterly destroyed if Glacius vanished -- his behavior this entire day is testament enough to that -- and he aches thinking of how Emily is no longer among them, but... it isn't the same as what Glacius is feeling. Somehow, it lacks the depth and breadth of emotion the alien is looking for. Is it because of his work? Or is he so desensitized to losing others and the misfortune he would bring upon those around him that he cannot comprehend just what it is Glacius is going through?

Worse possibilities come to mind. How can he redeem himself if he lacks the capacity to empathize with another's injury? Has he always been this way, or was it behavior he developed slowly, imperceptibly over time? Perhaps he is something less than human, as Armand had implied -- that he's already dead.

This isn't about him, Carlisle reminds himself, leaning back on the couch and inviting Glacius to recline with him, as they have done in the past. This is about Glacius and what he's feeling. He cannot voice such concerns right now. Sighing, he instead tries to focus on the disappointment he feels for Emily's loss rather than the unbridled relief that it wasn't Glacius who—

Ah. His fingers tighten -- that was a terrible thought, something so utterly selfish that he can't help the twitch of repugnance that crosses him. It's there and gone in a flash, but he can still feel the disgust, as though he's goddess might have heard and judged him immediately based upon an idle thought. He tries to stifle it further with words. "I am sorry, Glacius," he says, taking in a deep breath. "I'm sorry for your loss -- our loss, I suppose -- and I am here as long as you need me... and beyond that."

[glacius]

Glacius follows Carlisle down easily enough, studying his partner's face as he resituates. The human is naturally more expressive than him and he's gotten good at interpreting those little twitches and lapses in said expressions, despite how the clergyman tends to try to smooth them over. Something is still bothering him, and he'd like to work on smoothing that out--on continuing to smooth out what they are both feeling--so he supposes it would make sense to take Carlisle up on his offer. He reaches over for the journal, which he places open on the clergyman's chest.

"Thank you, Carlisle," the ice alien murmurs, butting against his chin briefly. "That means a lot to me. I am here for you as well... allow me to show it. We should comfort each other under the stars, as you suggested. It was a good idea."

[tongueamok]

As Glacius places the paper upon his chest and butts up against his chin, Carlisle cannot help the soft smile that crosses him. He places a hand on the glyph and activates it, sending the room into darkness as he sets the steaming paper aside. A moment later, the ceiling alights with dots both vibrant and dim, colors erupting across them as the magic paints a distant galaxy before them. The chill of the air around the alien's armor helps complete the illusion, making them truly seem as though they are surrounded by the vast depths of the stars above.

Emily was so thoughtful to make such a gift for them at his request... and yet, that dreadful thought returns, and all the guilt that comes with it: it could have been worse.

Carlisle tenses beneath Glacius, his breath unsteady as he puts a hand long his partner's neck, seeking the comfort he usually finds there. What comfort would he have found with Emily if Glacius had vanished?

He brings his other arm around Glacius, embracing his partner as he shudders again, suddenly awash with emotion. He chokes on something in the back of his throat, his grip tightening. "I'm sorry," he utters, knowing Glacius will ask what it is that's wrong. He should be honest, Carlisle reminds himself, no matter how terrible a truth it is. "What- what kind of person am I, to think something so awful when I should be mourning the loss of a friend? To find relief in that it wasn't you who was taken away instead?"

It's not that he hadn't been gloomy throughout the day at the thought of the things that went unsaid to Emily, but he cannot deny that most of the fear and unease he felt had been tied to the mere thought that his partner might not be in the city anymore. It vanished the moment Glacius returned home, as if all his problems were over... but Emily is still gone, and now, he wonders if he truly is an unfeeling monster in some ways, incapable of the empathy Glacius so desperately seeks.

[glacius]

Glacius directs his attention towards the false sky as the glyph is activated; he watches as the corners of the room disappear into an endless black expanse, dotted with glimmering stars. It's a beautiful but ultimately tragic sight, a reminder of the loss of the one who made this possible for them as much as it is a comfort. The alien lowers his head and sucks in a breath as their subtle glow glimmers against his icy skin; he's surprised to hear a similar choking sound from his partner and swivels his gaze to the clergyman's face, concerned amidst his own grief.

For a moment he thinks that Carlisle might be struck by a similar sorrow, but it turns out that isn't the case at all. The alien doesn't get much time to regard him as he's pulled into a tight embrace, but at least Carlisle doesn't leave him wondering. The ice alien squirms slightly, trying to get enough range of motion so that he can rest his forehead against his partner's, then goes still with their faces only inches from one another's.

"What? Carlisle... there's nothing wrong with being thankful for what you still have. To be able to count your good fortune in a place that offers very little of it. It doesn't speak to how little you cared for Emily, it just... speaks to how much you care for me," Glacius replies, looking the clergyman square in the eyes. He feels touched in a way that's hard to describe, but he knows it's important to try. "I... I'm glad I mean that much to you, that my presence can offer you such relief even in the face of such a loss. It feels good to know that I can... help you just by being here."

[tongueamok]

"You mean more to me than I can possibly say," Carlisle chokes out, closing his eyes -- they are brimming with tears, ones shed in some mixture of self-disgust and utter frustration... and yet, he is grateful, so grateful to have his partner beside him. "I- I cannot begin to put into words my relief, the respite I feel with you here, knowing that I still have time with you. That- that I..."

He trails off, pressing his forehead tightly to Glacius', his eyes squeezing together as he grinds his teeth and tries his damnedest to not lose all of his composure. For what might be the first time, he's coming to terms with what Glacius has felt all along every time he mentioned his impending demise -- he came to terms with it long ago, but Glacius could never accept it. He wanted more time together.

And Carlisle realizes in his heart that he wants that, too. He wants more time than he will ever be afforded, more time than he, an accursed being, can have. He has thus far thought of their parting as an unfortunate inevitability, but one he could handle when the time came, much like his death. He should have realized far sooner that said separation (again, much like his death) would be an unbearable fate, one he'd do anything to avoid.

It's thoughts like that that make Carlisle wish he had a few more drinks in him, something to numb his mind from all the what-ifs going through it. Of all the comforts Glacius could offer him, he's positive alcohol is still off the table.

[glacius]

"And you, to me... I am so grateful that I still have you here with me, Carlisle, I--w-what is wrong?"

The alien tilts his head, his concern only deepening as the clergyman squeezes his eyes shut amidst the tears that are threatening. He'd thought, at first, that Carlisle might have been crying out of pure relief... but as he gnashes his teeth and his body shudders underneath the alien, Glacius realizes that is not the case. Giving a soft and consoling chirp, he butts up against his partner's cheek again, resting more of his weight on the human to try and help quell some of that shaking.

[tongueamok]

"I- I have fought for so long to prove myself w- worthy of my goddess. I th- thought that there was no w- worse fate than to wander for eternity in the Land B- Beyond Living, but that once- once gone, I would be releasing this world from the burden of bearing me. I took solace in that."

Carlisle's arms wrap tighter around Glacius, his nails scratching at the alien's icy shell as he struggles for air against the choking sobs that clutter his throat, each one fighting to escape. So much for keeping some of his composure; he never has been particularly good at certain areas of self-restraint, as shown by his drinking.

It's not the alcohol fueling this outburst, though: it's the realization crashing into him, knocking him of his feet, pulling him under.

"I have tr- tried to accept my inevitable end with grace, and now, I feel fear for it, and desperately cling to what time we have. I... I feel not the strength you have tried so hard to instill in me, but anguish at the thought of my passing, for it means we will be apart."

[glacius]

Pushing himself further into Carlisle's grasp causes Glacius' unhealed injuries to protest anew, but he pays it little heed. This is requires his full attention; it's a development he's honestly not sure he'd ever see, and while he's always hoped that the clergyman may come to want to hold onto his life a bit more, this is... not the manner he'd have wanted to see that happen.

"I feel anguish too; this is natural, faced with the thought of endings, especially of something we hold so dear. But do you know what else I feel, Calrilse? I feel joy. Joy and thankfulness for the time we have been allowed together. It is not fair that we must ultimately be taken from one another, but we cannot become greedy for days; all we can do is cherish whatever time we can make together," Glacius replies, sighing and nuzzling briefly against his partner before lowering his eyes. "I... I didn't mean for this relationship to become another point of anguish for you. I just wanted it to bring you peace and happiness in the time that you have, and wanted to do whatever I could to... give you more of that. I will miss you dearly, but I would rather know that pain than to have never gotten to know you like this at all."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle presses his face tightly against his partner, each breath causing another tremor in his voice. Despite the fear he feels, the anxiety and the apprehension of the future, he knows his response.

"And I, as well. I... I would not return what bliss I have found with you even if it meant I would live forever. Your... your compassion, your touch, your love -- it all makes me feel more alive than I have ever been."

He is quiet for some time after that, simply trying to steady himself against his own turmoil, his breaths evening out as the minutes tick by. His grip on Glacius remains tight, his limbs still shaking as he tries to keep them as close as possible, as though the alien might be lost the moment he lets go. With the stars above them and his partner so near, it is easier for him to find that peace he wants, he needs... but it seems no matter what, he will always harbor some fear in the depths of his heart. It is his natural state, after all.

[glacius]

"That's quite the devotion... I am glad for it," Glacius replies, a soft purr rumbling up and out of him. It's the only sound that breaks the silence that follows, save for the clergyman's quavering breath. He doesn't protest his partner's vice-like grip despite the bandaged fissures in his armor; as long as it helps Carlisle fight off the worst of his shaking, it's worth it.

It seems to be, after some time; though the alien is plenty capable of remaining quiet, he's not able to keep himself from offering gentle affections; a few nuzzles against his partner's chest or cheek here and there, plus the occasional graze of his mandible against the clergyman's neck or through his hair. Hopefully the fmailiar, comforting gestures and the prolonged contact will remind Carlisle that Glacius is here, and that he's not going anywhere.

[tongueamok]

As Glacius offers up physical affections, Carlisle responds with his own, his grip finally loosening so he can set his hand upon his partner's scar. His red eyes burn in the cool air as he opens them, looking back to the illusionary stars above, but he feels better nonetheless. Glacius is there; it's hard not to feel safe when they are so close to one another.

"Glacius," he finally says quietly, his voice raspy from his outburst. It's drained, much as Carlisle himself is, but he offers a way for Glacius to, perhaps, take his mind from Emily for a time. At least he has a voice at all, courtesy of his partner's comforting gestures. "Tell me of how you travel through stars like these. I believe I could imagine what it would be like, with some help."

[glacius]

It's an effective topic change for sure, serving to distract Glacius through sheer surprise. He pulls his head back just enough to look his partner in the eyes, a smile spreading across his features--tentative at first, but growing brighter. "You want to contemplate interstellar travel?" He knows big open spaces aren't exactly Carlisle's thing, and there's nothing quite as vast as the void of space. He's not going to protest the request, however, nor is he going to give the timid clergyman a chance to second-guess himself.

"Well, it's... beautiful," the ice alien murmurs, folding his hands over top one another on Carlisle's chest so that he can rest his head on them--allowing him to maintain eye contact with his partner without keeping his neck craned back. "Of course, any travel through space is done inside a ship, but once you've plotted a course and the vessel's navigational systems have taken over, you're free to get up and walk to any of the viewports or observatory windows. At that point... words do not do it justice, but I will try. It..."

Glacius pauses, his brows furrowing as he tries to come up with a good way of describing it. Given where they are, it calls to mind another memory that they had shared together quite easily. "... It is like that night we spent out on the ocean together. Do you remember that? How the darkness spread across the sky and the water, the light of the stars reflected across the surface of the ocean? It is like that, but you are far closer to it; you are surrounded and encompassed in beauty, comprised of constellations and nebulae and other astral phenomenon. Glittering lights and broad, swirling strokes of whatever colors you can imagine... and the quiet! It is magnificent. No distractions, no clutter... nothing but you and the raw beauty of that from which we all emerged... it is an almost transcendental experience."

The ice alien pauses to take a breath, wistfulness and appreciation and longing all shining in his eyes. Will he ever see such a sight again? He is afraid to consider the answer, knowing that it may leave him weak and lost. He pushes on: "... Of course... things are a little bit different in you are in the process of folding space. At that point any viewpoints are usually closed due to safety precautions, but even if you left them open there wouldn't be much to see in the plane between dimensions. Some of my people theorize that puts you closer to the Astral Plane, the dimension that links all universes, as folding space allows us to travel between them with unparalleled speed... but we have never been able to access it. We suspect that it has been intentionally sealed by the beings that inhabited it..." And now Glacius finally stops again, averting his eyes sheepishly. "Ah, but that is getting off topic. I hope I painted a decent enough picture of what traveling through space is like. It really is awe-inspiring... and it never stops being so, no matter how many times you have done it."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle only maintains eye contact through a portion of Glacius' explanation, closing his eyes halfway through as he tries to remember the sights and sensations he experienced that night on the illusionary beach. He'd been surrounded by water, the inky blackness punctuated by glittering stars from both the sky and its reflection; it would have drawn him in too far if not for Glacius' presence, making him feel secure, safe.

Things were so different back then, before they fully realized their feelings for one another... and yet, in some ways, their roles were very much the same.

"It sounds both fascinating and terrifying," he admits finally, opening his eyes to the false sky above them. It, too, is beautiful. "But I assume I would be able to whether such a place and find an appreciation for it with the right company."

[glacius]

"It is," Glacius murmurs, having been happy to watch Carlisle drift more peaceably as he spoke. "A healthy respect for the void is always wise, but as in all things, you cannot let your fear ruin your enjoyment of what lays before you. If you think that... my presence would be able to help you put that aside so you can focus on the beauty, excitement, and ultimate freedom of such travel... well then. You know I wouldn't have it any other way."

The ice alien sighs, settling his head on top of hands now, his eyes half-way closed. "And I hope you also know that I'll always be here for you... you won't have to face your fears alone. We'll get through things together, day by day... and maybe some day, we won't be looking upon false stars. Will be up among real ones together... and I can finally give you the better live of peace and freedom that you deserve."