doesn't read manic and/or frenetic in the slightest
Which is to say, given what he knows of Sampo, there's part fondness even as he registers his indignation, part something else that's an undefinable mix of guilt and trepidation. Had Elysium expected him to read, nod, and mark his initial message as read? No, not really. If anything, his reaction is par the course.
And yet, if someone were to ask whether he felt better or worse for it, he wouldn't exactly be able to provide an answer. ]
Nnnnnnot going anywhere! Not anytime soon.
It's a little late for any bird to be making their yearly migration, even if the end of October's still only a few days away. Don't trip over yourself with the expedited shipping now.
[It's okay. It's all okay. He's totally not kind of losing it a little over everything he went through. It's fine! Laugh it off. Check on your local bird.]
[Check on your local bird you are aggrieved over for stepping in when he shouldn't have.]
[Ugh. Whatever.]
[Here comes a figure, draped in a cloak - only the peek of blue and that placidly smiling face make him recognizable from a distance. He's coming closer, standing and staring for a moment.]
[ Just as the bags under Sampo's eyes signify nothing of consequence, neither does Elysium's pallor or the controlled erraticism of his breathing. Any lethargy is masked by his relaxed posture against the railing, back towards the door.
After what had happened, how would Sampo be in any better condition? But the absence of any explicit acknowledgment has always been the name of their game, and Elysium intends to keep it that way, even as his lips quirk at his choice of greeting. A wave over his shoulder. That's all he gets. ]
Is that what the doctor's ordering next? [ A breathy laugh, quieter than usual, a deliberate effort to mask its underlying strain. ] I wrote what I wrote.
[He repeats. He can't even muster his usual chipper tone - it sounds dead in the water, his green eyes fixated on the man's body. Great. Great. Just. Great.]
...Has anyone looked at you? Any actual doctor? You perfect, blissfully ignorant idiot, you.
[ It's fine, Elysium can sound chipper for the both of them. Just another day of the behaviour that's expected of him, easy as anything. ]
Here? Yeah. Back when we first arrived to study the effects of their medication on my body, and then after the last mission.
[ A tap tap tap on the railing with his finger to curb the impulse to clench his hand around it. ]
Apparently, I'm not the only one who's had to take it. I'm guessing it means that some other Terrans must have been here as well, at some point. But it's pretty telling—that even the doctors here reached the same conclusion and are stuck at the same bottleneck ours have been at for years.
[ Now for an actual sidelong glance in Sampo's direction— ]
Bro, you're making for some pretty awful company at the moment. You sure this is healing?
[He does. He does see red - a rather odd feeling for people who know the easygoing man named as Sampo Koski - and he's reaching forward to grasp the man harshly by the collar. The revealed arm is covered in bandages.]
I'll give ya healing, pal. But I'll ask. [His tone is as snipped and cold as it was back then, when Elysium cornered him so long ago when he was in that outfit malfunction. Like a snake coiling, baring the slightest glint of fang.] Why did you get involved?
[ What a way to treat a hospital patient. Elysium's expression tenses in response to the sudden movement, lingering for several beats as the initial surge of pain persists before subsiding into a dull ache that continues to throb incessantly. Exhaling another laugh, what it really wants to be is a groan of discomfort. ]
Wow. And with terrible bedside manner to match. Remind me to request for a different doctor once this is over.
[ He can't help it that his gaze falls on the bandages. A pang—separate from the physical one just recently inflicted. ]
… But 'nothing after all of this,' huh? What a way to put it.
[ Why did Sampo get involved? He never had to. It might've been a shared dreamscape, but the actions he'd taken were entirely his own. Just as easily, Elysium could deflect. Just as easily, Elysium could mention the words from days prior—'that he had him too'. And, just as easily, Elysium could ask if Sampo had wanted to hear the real answer, giving him that out.
Which one had he expected? Any of the three would have been equally likely if not for those exact words. Instead, and to that effect—Elysium closes his eyes. Reminds himself to steady his breathing, inhale, exhale. ]
You once asked me what my happiness was, Koski. Remember that? Back then, I told you it was this: in greeting the sunrise every morning and seeing the smiles and laughter of others. That it shouldn't take away from others but to still do what I can, when I can. I might've failed on several accounts already, but my answer hasn't really changed, except that I didn't tell you the full of it. … My elysian fields. My poor, poor life. You raised your glass to my intelligence, but the truth is, I'm just another fool searching for my way towards it.
[ He smiles, yet his expression remains as inscrutable as ever, almost eerily serene. ]
I meant you not seeing a doctor after what you went through here-
[But he can't finish the sentence. Elysium continues, and that burning, awful feeling in his chest grows. It feels like acid eating him up from the inside, spiteful and insidious and nothing like the elation a Fool would indulge in. No, not even a Mourning Actor would clap and applaud for him here. It's fucked up. It's human. He has the urge to simply shake this man regardless of his wounds. How dare he.]
[He should have left well enough alone. Then again, he should have told himself that, in that dreamscape. He couldn't. He wouldn't.]
[His grip releases slightly, his breath hissing out between gritted teeth. What a pain.]
That makes the two of us. [One literal, one in name only.] No. Not what I wanted to hear. Then again, wishes were horses, beggars would ride, y'know?
[A pause, his eyes sliding and moving to the railing, instead.]
I...just don't want you to be stupid. You really were, back there. And for what, huh? This? Then again, you probably have a speech and a half for me on that too. [A pained noise.] Don't you.
[ Whatever he'd intended the words for, it doesn't change how it lingers. ]
If you wanted me to, I could come up with another one. Comes with the vocation back at home. Good at them, aren't I?
[ Speeches, he means, and his tone is that cheeky, cheeky thing despite the number of times he'd felt, for himself, Sampo's incredibly perceptible resentment. For Elysium, though, it'd been a little different: the steady realisation that there had never been a ceiling to worry about caving in to begin with, and it had always been just the wide
open
sun and sky. Pretty things today, too. ]
But I don't see the need to when I've already explained myself pretty well. What do you mean by "this," man? You're the one who said that happiness is a dignity we need to uphold.
Sometimes, you just have to tell yourself you're riding one anyway.
[ Because through all the broken promises and broken relationships, there has been that one fact that has remained—one that couldn't be regained, rebuilt, or whatever else. A happiness that had been scrounged up from practically nothing, dug up until his hands have been made raw. A wish most would consider a curled monkey's paw, but one Elysium will accept nonetheless. That is, ]
I'm glad you're alive.
[ As much as it hurts, a gentle bump of their shoulders. ]
[He doesn't know what to think about that. What DOES he do with this, huh? That's a joy of a kind, right? He should be happy! Damn it, be happy!]
[The fool brought a form elation to the stage! Bow to the audience! Revel in it!]
[Does he even know how to?]
[A mixture of emotions cross through that tired face of his - perhaps this is the most raw he's been with someone, really, even with the dreamscape. Masks aren't fitting right for the moment. It all feels like a wire that this little bird has chewed through and left open.]
[The bump on the shoulders makes his eyelids flutter - his bandaged hand detaches, only to shift around the other's neck, to the back of his head, tugging him in so forehead taps against forehead. His eyes stare into the other's, to pin them down.]
[He spares a little laugh. His little traveling bird.]
Stay alive, yourself. [And his voice drops, a sharp little whisper.] But do something like that again, and I'll follow that protocol of yours, alright. Got it, pal? Sampo - I - won't take your stupidity lightly.
[ If there's any amount of silence, Elysium doesn't acknowledge it. Rather, time passes quickly enough just by watching the variety of expressions that flit across Sampo's face, transfixed, that he almost doesn't realise it until they're pressed forehead to forehead, jarred right out of his thoughts.
He practically startles, his shoulders tensing again to send another sharp ache through his chest. If he nearly doubles over against Sampo before just marginally catching himself, it's better that neither of them comments on it; it's hard to tell what has him more delirious, his body steadily giving up on him
or
this intimacy that feels—no, more than feels—like a tangible, precarious little perch, with no dream, nightmare, or lie to cushion him if it were to snap beneath his weight. He contemplates it. His head hurts. He's closing his eyes again and offering another weak laugh. ]
… Oh? Is this the fabled healing segment?
[ Elyisum's shoulders feel lighter. Elysium's shoulders also feel heavier. But that's just how life goes, even if it's been shitty hand after shitty hand. A balm is still a balm, though, and perhaps the surmounting weight only makes it more pronounced: this tiny gesture that somehow feels immense, that sends twinges of embarrassment, where he's certain that if their contact lingers even a second longer, it'll expose more than he'd ever want it to.
By instinct, he pulls back just enough to adjust his position. Where feathers are meant to be, currently cloaked, they'll brush against the side of Sampo's jaw as he moves past to press his mouth just below his ear.
As a hoarse whisper, ]
A bit for what you did back then, a bit for what you've done now, Sampo. Right, that was your name, wasn't it? Sure, heard you loud and clear.
[ then, he's slumping a solid portion of his weight onto his little perch, unabashed. yeah, lug his corpse around, thanks. back to speed: ]
[Healing? What healing? He's dropped the pretense. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He's had it up to here with this man and all his self-sacrifice and gifts and keychains and promises and- well. The list goes on and on. What a pain. It's an aggravation enough to gnaw one's own arm off.]
[Elysium feels especially light against him - fragile in all the wrong ways. The feathers that tickle his face are soft. The kiss, even softer. And he- he falters too, the weight of exhaustion and pain catching up to him. He wants to close his eyes and forget about everything. If only life would work like that.]
That's my name, alright. [He murmurs - Elysium slumps against him, and his other arm, twinging with his wounds, solidly moves around his waist to jeep him from falling. Sampo dives in - the snake that he is, with teases of fangs - to kiss him on the ear, warm and overbearing.] Don't you forget it. [Another kiss to his cheek.] At your service. [Another to the corner of his mouth. He hopes he chokes on them, really.] My dear little bird.
[Fine. He'll be a perch. He knows from experience about travelers. Trailblazers and all.]
[And then a little more adjustment of this grip, the familiar smile coming back into his tired face.]
This doctor's orders are...see a doctor! I'll have to find one. Someone's gotta patch you up, right?
[ The branch doesn't give when he lands. What a strange feeling, when it wasn't that long ago that they had their talks of deals, of give and take, and their games of push and pull. Less than a month ago, even. There's a part of him that half-expects it to be gone the moment he blinks, the moment the day elapses, or the precise moment he shows weakness, the same thoughts he'd used to have when he'd circled above it.
… But he just wants to rest, regardless of whether his new perch disappears today or tomorrow as the capricious thing he's always known it to be. It's fine if it's for a short while by its own definition; it's fine if it turns out to be another play. Whatever happens to be the case, it doesn't change the fact that it's somehow become its own little pocket of elation—something to hold onto, however temporarily that might be. ]
Are you listening to yourself right now?
[ is what he says, sulkily and chagrined, but the audible hitch that punctuates his words proves otherwise. That strange feeling, emphasised by a reverence that doesn't feel like it should be his, is both ticklish and bitter in one as his arms circle around Sampo's waist hesitantly like he's handling something just as delicate, face burrowing into the crook of Sampo's neck. For once, he isn't at liberty of flight.
So… a bite. … or really, a hickey in a place that'll still easily be covered with a higher collar. A perch. His perch. No doubt about it. Tit for tat, before he's knocking their heads together this time. dios mío… ]
My wounds are fine. [ … ] Mostly fine. A medic patched me up and said that it'd be easier on my system if I let the remainder of it heal naturally. But if what you really meant by that is the other thing—
[ He's never been a part of clinical trials. There's never been a reason to be. Against people's expectations of him, his life had never meant to be to try and contest it—he really isn't that optimistic. And yet, ]
If that's what you want, [ 'you,' ] I can see someone. [ and if that weren't enough, ] … Only because you're the one asking.
[He could just go. He should go. That's the nature of Sampo Koski, there and back again, the kind of guy who abandons people for his own little selfish needs. But then again, he's someone who has his own moral code to abide by, one that certain other Fools would sniff at and deride. He has limits. He won't go as so far as to be abnormally cruel. As much as he would like to, as much as he would.]
[As much as he might have done in the past. This is the here and now. For a shuddering little bird after a storm, he'll hold him up, until (if, when, many such words) he moves on.]
[Is it bad?]
[He both hates and loves it in equal measure. Those emotions fight like maligned lovers themselves in his chest. He laughs a little, the sound rumbling through his chest warmly, before the man's lips are at the little square of skin under his jaw and-]
[Oh.]
[Sampo lets out an embarrassing sort of noise, embarrassed too, as the blood flushes up into his cheeks. The look that Elysium (rightfully) teased him on. What a rascal this man is. He has half a mind to simply whistle and tip him over the edge and be done with this whole mess and a half. Easy peasy.]
Hey. [He doesn't, of course, but that doesn't stop him from letting a hand snake up to gently yank on the man's ear with an aggrieved sigh.] Sampo will make you pay for that one sometime. With interest. Never say a businessman like myself never gets his due.
[But that aside...]
[That is a question and a half. It flummoxes him in a different way than the sore spot on his neck. If that's what he wants? Who would want Sampo Koski to throw his opinion in on, well, anything?]
Aghhh. [Jiminy Aha Christmas.] I'm no doctor, as much as I'd like to tease myself as one. I mean, you know more about this than I do, but...
[Does he?]
[Does he want him to...pursue that? Tie the little bird down once and for all.]
I can't lead a horse to water and can't make him drink. But maybe one of these days...honestly? Yeah. I would. Life's a big circus, y'know? I can't have you missing out.
[ Ruffle this bird's feathers and he'll peck the snake's scales right back. Maybe it'll eat him whole one day, maybe it'll wind around him until he draws his last breath. That's just how it goes when it's a little bit of column A, a little bit of column B where as tired as he is to think about the optics of their circumstances, it's as educated as it is a likely poor decision.
And yet again— ]
Owww.
[ —at his ear being tugged, he's nuzzling deeper into Sampo as if he's contemplating whether he's more than just a perch to rest on, but—
a nest. He almost feels comfortable enough to be one, fangs and all, and that's how Elysium knows he's truly lost his mind.
But, what does it mean to miss out? A life spent wandering with no place to be, no place to go. Homes in a place where no one breathes and another in a collection of people who'd wanted to make the world a better place but ultimately of which was a means to an end. A life with no purpose other than to leave things as he'd found them or in better condition, because there was no telling when he'd have to go for one reason or another.
Sampo Koski's opinion matters. Of course it does. What is in a life other than burning bright as you can?
Unfortunately, it should be said that as poetic and touching this all might be, there's a lesson to be learned (or maybe, he's just refused to learn) that his exchanges are hardly ever at a one to one. His hands, dipping down further, will eventually find their way underneath Sampo's cloak. It isn't so much to elicit a reaction as it is to chase after that bit of warmth, closing that useless bit of distance. They might be hiding away from the world, but——they don't need to hide from each other. He'd called Elysium greedy, once, twice. And, he really is. ]
… c'mon. I already told you I would. You know…
[ He thinks of the burning in his chest, of the sea, and of a vial. Of how many variables that have aligned, and maybe that's really what he needs to worry about here. ]
As much of a mess as things are, I'm somehow keeping most of my words to you.
[ … at the cost of his word to others, but there's always a cost, always a price. Funny how he'd admonished Sampo for assigning values only to do practically the same thing, dressed up to look more humane. How unlucky. ]
[See, that is the dangerous thing, here. He shouldn't be a nest. Its like leaving one's favorite little budgie in the reptile house. It's not going to work. Plain and simple. Logic 101. Dr. Ratio would be throwing chalk at both of their heads for it.]
[He's a businessman, not a gambling man, but even so, he wouldn't put any bets on him. Elysium is putting something on him, snuggled tight into him as he is now. Maybe its not a bet. Maybe he just wants Sampo to coil around him and hold him tight. An example of existence. If you long for an embrace, and no one is there to give it, do you exist in this world?]
[He sighs. And then lets himself a little treat here, nose nuzzling into the man's feathery hair as he sways them side to side.]
...I miss that tail, sometimes. You'd hold it oh so nicely.
[And so he, too, returns the favor. Its only something that Elysium would understand, and Elysium would know. He briefly wonders how this may look on the outside. A love affair? Ha. A joke from a clown. As if it would ever be simple. Sampo finds his own hands carressing over the man's back. As if there could be wings there.]
But anyways. Yeah. Sure. Words for me. Y'know...let's go away for a bit. You and me. Little vacation. I think we deserve it. I don't think I'll be a popular guy around town for a while, anyways.
[ A pantomime of an actual affair to the vague, vague shape of one. Or perhaps, that's what it's always been with several more vagues tacked on to the end of it. Idly, a finger on the skin of Sampo's back traces light shapes into it—an E, an S, a circle and a square, he's not really thinking much of it. It might tickle, it might feel nice, these delicate, insignificant imprints that he'd always been mindful against leaving.
Not forgetting to mention the glowing indicator of the one on his neck, Elysium squeezes, laughing dryly. ]
But go away somewhere, huh. [ There's something wistful in that tone, like he's thinking of something removed from a bit. Two backpacks, no destination, an entire world before them unexplored. Perhaps a riff on what that dream could've been. ] … I have a little experience with that. It involved a one-way trip by foot followed by an earful of a helicopter ride all the way back.
[ … Admittedly, he's distracted, simply thinking about and basking in the feeling of skin on skin. ]
As long as we don't stray too far, it shouldn't be as much trouble. [ Distantly. ] There are places I go to stargaze, places I go when I want quiet from the city. They aren't half bad. [ … ] What were you thinking?
[ … And if… those shapes that Elysium's tracing gradually stray lower and lower, it's all Sampo's imagination… ]
You didn't, no. Then again, we kind of had a major distraction and a half there, huh.
[If the end of the world can be a major distraction. The fingertip traces its letters, its shapes. As if it could actually leave anything permanent there - Elysium seems like he's always threatened to do that sort of thing. He's a slippery little beast, that Sampo Koski. A snake was always fitting for who he is - if you don't have a solid grasp on him to the point of pain, he would coil himself out of your grasp.]
[But a little bird has held him fast. He loathes him for it. He loves him for it. And as much as his feelings mix and burn on his insides, he wants this, to get lost in the feeling of it all.]
[Like drowning in the sea.]
Haha. An earful? You deserve that, pal. [He can kind of see it now - loved ones berating this poor bird for his flighty endeavors.] And...hm. We could visit those places. Me, I was just thinking in general. A little spot outside. Maybe a little camp! I have experience with that in Belobog.
[The hand wanders. Sampo pulls back just a little bit, if only to look at him with lidded, glimmering eyes. His lips press another kiss over the man's forehead, the tip of his tongue dipping over the skin as he murmurs into it.]
...Hey. Keep that up there, and I will cash in on that interest now instead of later. Though...maybe that's what you want?
[ It's more than simply drowning at sea—it's a relentless cycle of basking under the sun, only to be plucked away just as the warmth begins to settle, then dropped into varying depths time and time again.
To that effect, lifelong habits don't change overnight. A tern isn't a budgie, just as a corn snake isn't a viper. Migratory birds don't become nomadic on a whim, they'd have to go against their instincts move. Proximity, though easy to understand in concept—the comfort of another's presence, the warmth of touch—becomes a different matter entirely when stripped of the familiar veneer of a stage, a script, or the rehearsed motions he's grown accustomed to performing.
Elysium doesn't flinch, but the intimacy does continue to unsettle him all the same. His breath catching as he shivers under the tender kiss to his forehead, there's an ache that twists in his chest, the kind of closeness he's never quite learned to embrace yet desires to, that clamps down on the instinctive urge to take flight.
His mouth parts, wordless for the brief second. … Then, as if it'd never happened: ]
Maybe, maybe. It's too bad that I can remember a time when a certain tall, blue, and handsome guy admonished me for a similar kind of irresponsibility. Unless…
[ Unless!!! Sampo would like to take Elysium's eyes narrowing back as a kind of encouragement? The hand on his hip slides under one waistband—two waistbands—all while threatening to go lower still. Regardless of what the other's response might be, Elysium will continue on regardless; in tandem with that movement, Elysium dips his head lower, pressing an open mouthed kiss against Sampo's mouth. With his eyes fluttering shut, his tongue tentatively seeks access.
It's not meant to be a kiss that steals his breath away, or anything adjacent to that. Rather than some kind of precusor… it's more something of a seal, for that possible "later," granted his heart stops threatening to beat out of his chest. At some point, Elysium's hand starts moving again, lower
and lower,
until he
both pinches Sampo's hip line and releases the kiss, his expression cheeky, cheeky, while his voice is a touch breathless. ]
… unless you'd like to end up reopening my wounds, and have to bury yourself rather than me?
[ … this much is familiar, a deferral to a different time that may or may not come to pass. Setting aside that Elysium would like it, yeah, if his wounds didn't open for a literal third time. ]
But… let's do it. Your little vacation, your little getaway. With how things are, out there—it almost is like its own world. It'll be fun.
[Yeah, this is Elysium, alright. In all sense of the word. The place. The concept. The man. The little thing with feathers. A man like him shouldn't wander into it. This is as dangerous for the snake as it is for the bird. Sampo shivers, perceptibly, and feels a warmth unlike anything he's ever known fill him up. He's used to cold places. Reptiles seek the heat.]
[The kiss is a contract in and of itself, huh. He signs it, dots it, notarizes it - by returning it, of course, with a breathless sigh and another pleased shudder that ignores the pain of bandaged wounds. He wants to suck on his lower lip, here, but the pinch makes him break it with a little "ooh!" before he pouts.]
I'd very much not like to do that, thank you.
[It's not even about the exposure, its about Elysium being an idiot. He's not a responsible guy. He doesn't want to add more wounds to take care of to his personal list if he can help it. Still, the momentary grimace recedes away with a little grin.]
[There you have it.]
Of course it will be fun. [And now his hand is sliding back to boop the man on the nose.] Buuuuuut. First things first, amigo.
[No warning whatsoever. He's bending down to scoop the man up into his arms as easy as anything. Hehe..]
We're getting you right back into the arms of the medical staff! Thanks for the reminder. I can't have you bleeding all over me out there, right?
[ WHAT DOES HE MEAN HEHE… what kind of carry is this, tf!!!
Regardless of what kind of carry it is, he really isn't used to being toted around, much less being manhandled like he's weightless. He knows better than to struggle and worsen both their conditions, (is Sampo in condition to be carrying him???) but what happened to being too old for these things?
At least, Sampo gets the benefit of what's probably the most flustered expression Elysium has ever worn around him, and the sound of a startled yelp, between the action itself and the twinge from sudden movement. ]
Bro!! [ bro!! (platonic)!! ] I can walk!! What the heck?
Uh-huh. No speaking, "bro". Ol' Sampo will take care of you.
[He really shouldn't be doing this - bridal carrying Elysium, specifically. He's kind of the worse for wear, here, too. But ah, what is pain? A momentary obstacle.]
[Besides, that flustered face makes up for everything here. That's a payment to satisfy some debt if he ever saw it.]
[He moves back to the entrance to the stairs, humming a little tune.]
[ Does he cover his face? Does he pinch Sampo's face until he relents? For a while, it'll look like he settled into some kind of begrudged acceptance, arm closest to Sampo freeing itself wind around Sampo's. It's a little much to look at Sampo directly other than to steal the occasional glance, but he has a perfect view of the bandages that litter the other's body like this, and the sensation of muscles tensing at his back.
Normally, it should feel comforting, right? Secure? That the carry is stable despite everything? No, because he wouldn't have done half of what he's done if he were the type of sane person to accept help at anyone's expense in the first place. So— ]
… Not unless you're prepared for returning fire, yourself.
[ —with that, as "bros" are wont to do, his arms are looping around Sampo's neck, bringing their faces closer. Unlike Sampo, he's nicer ("nicer") to provide additonal warning, in
a kiss to his jaw, to his cheek, and finally, lastly, to his mouth, pressing incessantly, eyes narrowed in determination.
… this, too, is a kind of pvp……
please
he can walk!!!!!!!!!!! (real)!!!
or fail in this exercise of shamelessness because his lungs really do kind of suck rn. tragic. in which he just as lamely tucks his head into his shoulder, after. (the truth behind the other kiss…) ]
Edited (don't write tags immediately after a nap) 2024-10-20 06:48 (UTC)
[Oh, he'll go there. He'll wade in and put his dirty hands all over the prstine white carpets just because he can. Because chaos asks for it. Elation asks for it.]
[He's humming, claiming victory, but then - a bird is coming very, VERY close and just. Uh. Well, he half expected a fight here, but there's one kiss, another, and now he's being kissed on the mouth. All very, very dizzying, but before he can react
Elysium is dropping back to nuzzle into his neck.]
[Sampo heaves a little sigh, more affectionate than he means it to be.]
Now, now, buddy. A few kisses won't make me drop ya. Besides, there will be plenty of time for that kinda thing later.
[Now he's really going to rub it in, giving a little comical kiss to the top of his head.]
I won't drop you. I said I'd be there for you, didn't I?
Shut uuuup… I liked you better when you were easier.
[ like when he'd startled at thoughtless gestures of affection, abrupt compliments of cute and beautiful. when it was all about a competition of who'd come out on top when it came to little adrenaline rushes and acts of indecency. much like how Sampo had the urge to flip him off the roof—
Elysium has half the mind to strangle him here and now.
… but there's this little thing. This little thing called trust. The trust everyone asks of him which he isn't sure he has or is even capable of. The trust that requires him to put his life to bat isn't really significant, in the grand scheme of things—he's done it countless times, both for people he knows and those he doesn't.
It's the trust that has him once again overriding his own instincts, the trust that has him squirming in Sampo's arms uncomfortably trying to figure out what would be comfortable before he concedes to himself that there isn't, any. While he still isn't sure if this trust of his has any intrinsic value, still isn't sure if it's worth it given the associated costs, more delicate than a life, the word 'comrade-in-arms' floats to the surface in attempt to define it. It sinks like an anchor, not enough, not quite, to characterise what it is that Elysium has clumsily pieced together into settling his head on Sampo's shoulder, forcing his eyes closed. ]
… But that's a lie, only because you're getting me to do some pretty uncharacteristic things. [ A press of a kiss cues the drop of something else in his chest. Still: slowly, slowly. His breath starts evening out. ] … So, just so you know… it's going to take more than what happened to make me leave.
[ A perch, a nest, an open cage—
in the end, it doesn't matter what it is; the bird will fly in willingly, tuck its wings in, and drift off into slumber. ]
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no subject
doesn't read manic and/or frenetic in the slightest
Which is to say, given what he knows of Sampo, there's part fondness even as he registers his indignation, part something else that's an undefinable mix of guilt and trepidation. Had Elysium expected him to read, nod, and mark his initial message as read? No, not really. If anything, his reaction is par the course.
And yet, if someone were to ask whether he felt better or worse for it, he wouldn't exactly be able to provide an answer. ]
Nnnnnnot going anywhere! Not anytime soon.
It's a little late for any bird to be making their yearly migration, even if the end of October's still only a few days away. Don't trip over yourself with the expedited shipping now.
[ in every way this might imply, too. ]
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[Check on your local bird you are aggrieved over for stepping in when he shouldn't have.]
[Ugh. Whatever.]
[Here comes a figure, draped in a cloak - only the peek of blue and that placidly smiling face make him recognizable from a distance. He's coming closer, standing and staring for a moment.]
[He has bags under his eyes.]
So what was that message about, huh?
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After what had happened, how would Sampo be in any better condition? But the absence of any explicit acknowledgment has always been the name of their game, and Elysium intends to keep it that way, even as his lips quirk at his choice of greeting. A wave over his shoulder. That's all he gets. ]
Is that what the doctor's ordering next? [ A breathy laugh, quieter than usual, a deliberate effort to mask its underlying strain. ] I wrote what I wrote.
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[He repeats. He can't even muster his usual chipper tone - it sounds dead in the water, his green eyes fixated on the man's body. Great. Great. Just. Great.]
...Has anyone looked at you? Any actual doctor? You perfect, blissfully ignorant idiot, you.
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Here? Yeah. Back when we first arrived to study the effects of their medication on my body, and then after the last mission.
[ A tap tap tap on the railing with his finger to curb the impulse to clench his hand around it. ]
Apparently, I'm not the only one who's had to take it. I'm guessing it means that some other Terrans must have been here as well, at some point. But it's pretty telling—that even the doctors here reached the same conclusion and are stuck at the same bottleneck ours have been at for years.
[ Now for an actual sidelong glance in Sampo's direction— ]
Bro, you're making for some pretty awful company at the moment. You sure this is healing?
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[He does. He does see red - a rather odd feeling for people who know the easygoing man named as Sampo Koski - and he's reaching forward to grasp the man harshly by the collar. The revealed arm is covered in bandages.]
I'll give ya healing, pal. But I'll ask. [His tone is as snipped and cold as it was back then, when Elysium cornered him so long ago when he was in that outfit malfunction. Like a snake coiling, baring the slightest glint of fang.] Why did you get involved?
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Wow. And with terrible bedside manner to match. Remind me to request for a different doctor once this is over.
[ He can't help it that his gaze falls on the bandages. A pang—separate from the physical one just recently inflicted. ]
… But 'nothing after all of this,' huh? What a way to put it.
[ Why did Sampo get involved? He never had to. It might've been a shared dreamscape, but the actions he'd taken were entirely his own. Just as easily, Elysium could deflect. Just as easily, Elysium could mention the words from days prior—'that he had him too'. And, just as easily, Elysium could ask if Sampo had wanted to hear the real answer, giving him that out.
Which one had he expected? Any of the three would have been equally likely if not for those exact words. Instead, and to that effect—Elysium closes his eyes. Reminds himself to steady his breathing, inhale, exhale. ]
You once asked me what my happiness was, Koski. Remember that? Back then, I told you it was this: in greeting the sunrise every morning and seeing the smiles and laughter of others. That it shouldn't take away from others but to still do what I can, when I can. I might've failed on several accounts already, but my answer hasn't really changed, except that I didn't tell you the full of it. … My elysian fields. My poor, poor life. You raised your glass to my intelligence, but the truth is, I'm just another fool searching for my way towards it.
[ He smiles, yet his expression remains as inscrutable as ever, almost eerily serene. ]
Is that what you wanted to hear?
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[But he can't finish the sentence. Elysium continues, and that burning, awful feeling in his chest grows. It feels like acid eating him up from the inside, spiteful and insidious and nothing like the elation a Fool would indulge in. No, not even a Mourning Actor would clap and applaud for him here. It's fucked up. It's human. He has the urge to simply shake this man regardless of his wounds. How dare he.]
[He should have left well enough alone. Then again, he should have told himself that, in that dreamscape. He couldn't. He wouldn't.]
[His grip releases slightly, his breath hissing out between gritted teeth. What a pain.]
That makes the two of us. [One literal, one in name only.] No. Not what I wanted to hear. Then again, wishes were horses, beggars would ride, y'know?
[A pause, his eyes sliding and moving to the railing, instead.]
I...just don't want you to be stupid. You really were, back there. And for what, huh? This? Then again, you probably have a speech and a half for me on that too. [A pained noise.] Don't you.
[Fucker.]
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If you wanted me to, I could come up with another one. Comes with the vocation back at home. Good at them, aren't I?
[ Speeches, he means, and his tone is that cheeky, cheeky thing despite the number of times he'd felt, for himself, Sampo's incredibly perceptible resentment. For Elysium, though, it'd been a little different: the steady realisation that there had never been a ceiling to worry about caving in to begin with, and it had always been just the wide
open
sun and sky. Pretty things today, too. ]
But I don't see the need to when I've already explained myself pretty well. What do you mean by "this," man? You're the one who said that happiness is a dignity we need to uphold.
Sometimes, you just have to tell yourself you're riding one anyway.
[ Because through all the broken promises and broken relationships, there has been that one fact that has remained—one that couldn't be regained, rebuilt, or whatever else. A happiness that had been scrounged up from practically nothing, dug up until his hands have been made raw. A wish most would consider a curled monkey's paw, but one Elysium will accept nonetheless. That is, ]
I'm glad you're alive.
[ As much as it hurts, a gentle bump of their shoulders. ]
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[He doesn't know what to think about that. What DOES he do with this, huh? That's a joy of a kind, right? He should be happy! Damn it, be happy!]
[The fool brought a form elation to the stage! Bow to the audience! Revel in it!]
[Does he even know how to?]
[A mixture of emotions cross through that tired face of his - perhaps this is the most raw he's been with someone, really, even with the dreamscape. Masks aren't fitting right for the moment. It all feels like a wire that this little bird has chewed through and left open.]
[The bump on the shoulders makes his eyelids flutter - his bandaged hand detaches, only to shift around the other's neck, to the back of his head, tugging him in so forehead taps against forehead. His eyes stare into the other's, to pin them down.]
[He spares a little laugh. His little traveling bird.]
Stay alive, yourself. [And his voice drops, a sharp little whisper.] But do something like that again, and I'll follow that protocol of yours, alright. Got it, pal? Sampo - I - won't take your stupidity lightly.
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He practically startles, his shoulders tensing again to send another sharp ache through his chest. If he nearly doubles over against Sampo before just marginally catching himself, it's better that neither of them comments on it; it's hard to tell what has him more delirious, his body steadily giving up on him
or
this intimacy that feels—no, more than feels—like a tangible, precarious little perch, with no dream, nightmare, or lie to cushion him if it were to snap beneath his weight. He contemplates it. His head hurts. He's closing his eyes again and offering another weak laugh. ]
… Oh? Is this the fabled healing segment?
[ Elyisum's shoulders feel lighter. Elysium's shoulders also feel heavier. But that's just how life goes, even if it's been shitty hand after shitty hand. A balm is still a balm, though, and perhaps the surmounting weight only makes it more pronounced: this tiny gesture that somehow feels immense, that sends twinges of embarrassment, where he's certain that if their contact lingers even a second longer, it'll expose more than he'd ever want it to.
By instinct, he pulls back just enough to adjust his position. Where feathers are meant to be, currently cloaked, they'll brush against the side of Sampo's jaw as he moves past to press his mouth just below his ear.
As a hoarse whisper, ]
A bit for what you did back then, a bit for what you've done now, Sampo. Right, that was your name, wasn't it? Sure, heard you loud and clear.
[ then, he's slumping a solid portion of his weight onto his little perch, unabashed. yeah, lug his corpse around, thanks. back to speed: ]
Ah, I'm exhauuuuuuuusted.
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[Elysium feels especially light against him - fragile in all the wrong ways. The feathers that tickle his face are soft. The kiss, even softer. And he- he falters too, the weight of exhaustion and pain catching up to him. He wants to close his eyes and forget about everything. If only life would work like that.]
That's my name, alright. [He murmurs - Elysium slumps against him, and his other arm, twinging with his wounds, solidly moves around his waist to jeep him from falling. Sampo dives in - the snake that he is, with teases of fangs - to kiss him on the ear, warm and overbearing.] Don't you forget it. [Another kiss to his cheek.] At your service. [Another to the corner of his mouth. He hopes he chokes on them, really.] My dear little bird.
[Fine. He'll be a perch. He knows from experience about travelers. Trailblazers and all.]
[And then a little more adjustment of this grip, the familiar smile coming back into his tired face.]
This doctor's orders are...see a doctor! I'll have to find one. Someone's gotta patch you up, right?
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… But he just wants to rest, regardless of whether his new perch disappears today or tomorrow as the capricious thing he's always known it to be. It's fine if it's for a short while by its own definition; it's fine if it turns out to be another play. Whatever happens to be the case, it doesn't change the fact that it's somehow become its own little pocket of elation—something to hold onto, however temporarily that might be. ]
Are you listening to yourself right now?
[ is what he says, sulkily and chagrined, but the audible hitch that punctuates his words proves otherwise. That strange feeling, emphasised by a reverence that doesn't feel like it should be his, is both ticklish and bitter in one as his arms circle around Sampo's waist hesitantly like he's handling something just as delicate, face burrowing into the crook of Sampo's neck. For once, he isn't at liberty of flight.
So… a bite. … or really, a hickey in a place that'll still easily be covered with a higher collar. A perch. His perch. No doubt about it. Tit for tat, before he's knocking their heads together this time. dios mío… ]
My wounds are fine. [ … ] Mostly fine. A medic patched me up and said that it'd be easier on my system if I let the remainder of it heal naturally. But if what you really meant by that is the other thing—
[ He's never been a part of clinical trials. There's never been a reason to be. Against people's expectations of him, his life had never meant to be to try and contest it—he really isn't that optimistic. And yet, ]
If that's what you want, [ 'you,' ] I can see someone. [ and if that weren't enough, ] … Only because you're the one asking.
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[As much as he might have done in the past. This is the here and now. For a shuddering little bird after a storm, he'll hold him up, until (if, when, many such words) he moves on.]
[Is it bad?]
[He both hates and loves it in equal measure. Those emotions fight like maligned lovers themselves in his chest. He laughs a little, the sound rumbling through his chest warmly, before the man's lips are at the little square of skin under his jaw and-]
[Oh.]
[Sampo lets out an embarrassing sort of noise, embarrassed too, as the blood flushes up into his cheeks. The look that Elysium (rightfully) teased him on. What a rascal this man is. He has half a mind to simply whistle and tip him over the edge and be done with this whole mess and a half. Easy peasy.]
Hey. [He doesn't, of course, but that doesn't stop him from letting a hand snake up to gently yank on the man's ear with an aggrieved sigh.] Sampo will make you pay for that one sometime. With interest. Never say a businessman like myself never gets his due.
[But that aside...]
[That is a question and a half. It flummoxes him in a different way than the sore spot on his neck. If that's what he wants? Who would want Sampo Koski to throw his opinion in on, well, anything?]
Aghhh. [Jiminy Aha Christmas.] I'm no doctor, as much as I'd like to tease myself as one. I mean, you know more about this than I do, but...
[Does he?]
[Does he want him to...pursue that? Tie the little bird down once and for all.]
I can't lead a horse to water and can't make him drink. But maybe one of these days...honestly? Yeah. I would. Life's a big circus, y'know? I can't have you missing out.
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And yet again— ]
Owww.
[ —at his ear being tugged, he's nuzzling deeper into Sampo as if he's contemplating whether he's more than just a perch to rest on, but—
a nest. He almost feels comfortable enough to be one, fangs and all, and that's how Elysium knows he's truly lost his mind.
But, what does it mean to miss out? A life spent wandering with no place to be, no place to go. Homes in a place where no one breathes and another in a collection of people who'd wanted to make the world a better place but ultimately of which was a means to an end. A life with no purpose other than to leave things as he'd found them or in better condition, because there was no telling when he'd have to go for one reason or another.
Sampo Koski's opinion matters. Of course it does. What is in a life other than burning bright as you can?
Unfortunately, it should be said that as poetic and touching this all might be, there's a lesson to be learned (or maybe, he's just refused to learn) that his exchanges are hardly ever at a one to one. His hands, dipping down further, will eventually find their way underneath Sampo's cloak. It isn't so much to elicit a reaction as it is to chase after that bit of warmth, closing that useless bit of distance. They might be hiding away from the world, but——they don't need to hide from each other. He'd called Elysium greedy, once, twice. And, he really is. ]
… c'mon. I already told you I would. You know…
[ He thinks of the burning in his chest, of the sea, and of a vial. Of how many variables that have aligned, and maybe that's really what he needs to worry about here. ]
As much of a mess as things are, I'm somehow keeping most of my words to you.
[ … at the cost of his word to others, but there's always a cost, always a price. Funny how he'd admonished Sampo for assigning values only to do practically the same thing, dressed up to look more humane. How unlucky. ]
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[He's a businessman, not a gambling man, but even so, he wouldn't put any bets on him. Elysium is putting something on him, snuggled tight into him as he is now. Maybe its not a bet. Maybe he just wants Sampo to coil around him and hold him tight. An example of existence. If you long for an embrace, and no one is there to give it, do you exist in this world?]
[He sighs. And then lets himself a little treat here, nose nuzzling into the man's feathery hair as he sways them side to side.]
...I miss that tail, sometimes. You'd hold it oh so nicely.
[And so he, too, returns the favor. Its only something that Elysium would understand, and Elysium would know. He briefly wonders how this may look on the outside. A love affair? Ha. A joke from a clown. As if it would ever be simple. Sampo finds his own hands carressing over the man's back. As if there could be wings there.]
But anyways. Yeah. Sure. Words for me. Y'know...let's go away for a bit. You and me. Little vacation. I think we deserve it. I don't think I'll be a popular guy around town for a while, anyways.
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[ A pantomime of an actual affair to the vague, vague shape of one. Or perhaps, that's what it's always been with several more vagues tacked on to the end of it. Idly, a finger on the skin of Sampo's back traces light shapes into it—an E, an S, a circle and a square, he's not really thinking much of it. It might tickle, it might feel nice, these delicate, insignificant imprints that he'd always been mindful against leaving.
Not forgetting to mention the glowing indicator of the one on his neck, Elysium squeezes, laughing dryly. ]
But go away somewhere, huh. [ There's something wistful in that tone, like he's thinking of something removed from a bit. Two backpacks, no destination, an entire world before them unexplored. Perhaps a riff on what that dream could've been. ] … I have a little experience with that. It involved a one-way trip by foot followed by an earful of a helicopter ride all the way back.
[ … Admittedly, he's distracted, simply thinking about and basking in the feeling of skin on skin. ]
As long as we don't stray too far, it shouldn't be as much trouble. [ Distantly. ] There are places I go to stargaze, places I go when I want quiet from the city. They aren't half bad. [ … ] What were you thinking?
[ … And if… those shapes that Elysium's tracing gradually stray lower and lower, it's all Sampo's imagination… ]
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[If the end of the world can be a major distraction. The fingertip traces its letters, its shapes. As if it could actually leave anything permanent there - Elysium seems like he's always threatened to do that sort of thing. He's a slippery little beast, that Sampo Koski. A snake was always fitting for who he is - if you don't have a solid grasp on him to the point of pain, he would coil himself out of your grasp.]
[But a little bird has held him fast. He loathes him for it. He loves him for it. And as much as his feelings mix and burn on his insides, he wants this, to get lost in the feeling of it all.]
[Like drowning in the sea.]
Haha. An earful? You deserve that, pal. [He can kind of see it now - loved ones berating this poor bird for his flighty endeavors.] And...hm. We could visit those places. Me, I was just thinking in general. A little spot outside. Maybe a little camp! I have experience with that in Belobog.
[The hand wanders. Sampo pulls back just a little bit, if only to look at him with lidded, glimmering eyes. His lips press another kiss over the man's forehead, the tip of his tongue dipping over the skin as he murmurs into it.]
...Hey. Keep that up there, and I will cash in on that interest now instead of later. Though...maybe that's what you want?
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To that effect, lifelong habits don't change overnight. A tern isn't a budgie, just as a corn snake isn't a viper. Migratory birds don't become nomadic on a whim, they'd have to go against their instincts move. Proximity, though easy to understand in concept—the comfort of another's presence, the warmth of touch—becomes a different matter entirely when stripped of the familiar veneer of a stage, a script, or the rehearsed motions he's grown accustomed to performing.
Elysium doesn't flinch, but the intimacy does continue to unsettle him all the same. His breath catching as he shivers under the tender kiss to his forehead, there's an ache that twists in his chest, the kind of closeness he's never quite learned to embrace yet desires to, that clamps down on the instinctive urge to take flight.
His mouth parts, wordless for the brief second. … Then, as if it'd never happened: ]
Maybe, maybe. It's too bad that I can remember a time when a certain tall, blue, and handsome guy admonished me for a similar kind of irresponsibility. Unless…
[ Unless!!! Sampo would like to take Elysium's eyes narrowing back as a kind of encouragement? The hand on his hip slides under one waistband—two waistbands—all while threatening to go lower still. Regardless of what the other's response might be, Elysium will continue on regardless; in tandem with that movement, Elysium dips his head lower, pressing an open mouthed kiss against Sampo's mouth. With his eyes fluttering shut, his tongue tentatively seeks access.
It's not meant to be a kiss that steals his breath away, or anything adjacent to that. Rather than some kind of precusor… it's more something of a seal, for that possible "later," granted his heart stops threatening to beat out of his chest. At some point, Elysium's hand starts moving again, lower
and lower,
until he
both pinches Sampo's hip line and releases the kiss, his expression cheeky, cheeky, while his voice is a touch breathless. ]
… unless you'd like to end up reopening my wounds, and have to bury yourself rather than me?
[ … this much is familiar, a deferral to a different time that may or may not come to pass. Setting aside that Elysium would like it, yeah, if his wounds didn't open for a literal third time. ]
But… let's do it. Your little vacation, your little getaway. With how things are, out there—it almost is like its own world. It'll be fun.
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[The kiss is a contract in and of itself, huh. He signs it, dots it, notarizes it - by returning it, of course, with a breathless sigh and another pleased shudder that ignores the pain of bandaged wounds. He wants to suck on his lower lip, here, but the pinch makes him break it with a little "ooh!" before he pouts.]
I'd very much not like to do that, thank you.
[It's not even about the exposure, its about Elysium being an idiot. He's not a responsible guy. He doesn't want to add more wounds to take care of to his personal list if he can help it. Still, the momentary grimace recedes away with a little grin.]
[There you have it.]
Of course it will be fun. [And now his hand is sliding back to boop the man on the nose.] Buuuuuut. First things first, amigo.
[No warning whatsoever. He's bending down to scoop the man up into his arms as easy as anything. Hehe..]
We're getting you right back into the arms of the medical staff! Thanks for the reminder. I can't have you bleeding all over me out there, right?
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Regardless of what kind of carry it is, he really isn't used to being toted around, much less being manhandled like he's weightless. He knows better than to struggle and worsen both their conditions, (is Sampo in condition to be carrying him???) but what happened to being too old for these things?
At least, Sampo gets the benefit of what's probably the most flustered expression Elysium has ever worn around him, and the sound of a startled yelp, between the action itself and the twinge from sudden movement. ]
Bro!! [ bro!! (platonic)!! ] I can walk!! What the heck?
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[He really shouldn't be doing this - bridal carrying Elysium, specifically. He's kind of the worse for wear, here, too. But ah, what is pain? A momentary obstacle.]
[Besides, that flustered face makes up for everything here. That's a payment to satisfy some debt if he ever saw it.]
[He moves back to the entrance to the stairs, humming a little tune.]
You're cute as a button, you know that?
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[ Does he cover his face? Does he pinch Sampo's face until he relents? For a while, it'll look like he settled into some kind of begrudged acceptance, arm closest to Sampo freeing itself wind around Sampo's. It's a little much to look at Sampo directly other than to steal the occasional glance, but he has a perfect view of the bandages that litter the other's body like this, and the sensation of muscles tensing at his back.
Normally, it should feel comforting, right? Secure? That the carry is stable despite everything? No, because he wouldn't have done half of what he's done if he were the type of sane person to accept help at anyone's expense in the first place. So— ]
… Not unless you're prepared for returning fire, yourself.
[ —with that, as "bros" are wont to do, his arms are looping around Sampo's neck, bringing their faces closer. Unlike Sampo, he's nicer ("nicer") to provide additonal warning, in
a kiss to his jaw, to his cheek, and finally, lastly, to his mouth, pressing incessantly, eyes narrowed in determination.
… this, too, is a kind of pvp……
please
he can walk!!!!!!!!!!! (real)!!!
or fail in this exercise of shamelessness because his lungs really do kind of suck rn. tragic. in which he just as lamely tucks his head into his shoulder, after. (the truth behind the other kiss…) ]
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[He's humming, claiming victory, but then - a bird is coming very, VERY close and just. Uh. Well, he half expected a fight here, but there's one kiss, another, and now he's being kissed on the mouth. All very, very dizzying, but before he can react
Elysium is dropping back to nuzzle into his neck.]
[Sampo heaves a little sigh, more affectionate than he means it to be.]
Now, now, buddy. A few kisses won't make me drop ya. Besides, there will be plenty of time for that kinda thing later.
[Now he's really going to rub it in, giving a little comical kiss to the top of his head.]
I won't drop you. I said I'd be there for you, didn't I?
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[ like when he'd startled at thoughtless gestures of affection, abrupt compliments of cute and beautiful. when it was all about a competition of who'd come out on top when it came to little adrenaline rushes and acts of indecency. much like how Sampo had the urge to flip him off the roof—
Elysium has half the mind to strangle him here and now.
… but there's this little thing. This little thing called trust. The trust everyone asks of him which he isn't sure he has or is even capable of. The trust that requires him to put his life to bat isn't really significant, in the grand scheme of things—he's done it countless times, both for people he knows and those he doesn't.
It's the trust that has him once again overriding his own instincts, the trust that has him squirming in Sampo's arms uncomfortably trying to figure out what would be comfortable before he concedes to himself that there isn't, any. While he still isn't sure if this trust of his has any intrinsic value, still isn't sure if it's worth it given the associated costs, more delicate than a life, the word 'comrade-in-arms' floats to the surface in attempt to define it. It sinks like an anchor, not enough, not quite, to characterise what it is that Elysium has clumsily pieced together into settling his head on Sampo's shoulder, forcing his eyes closed. ]
… But that's a lie, only because you're getting me to do some pretty uncharacteristic things. [ A press of a kiss cues the drop of something else in his chest. Still: slowly, slowly. His breath starts evening out. ] … So, just so you know… it's going to take more than what happened to make me leave.
[ A perch, a nest, an open cage—
in the end, it doesn't matter what it is; the bird will fly in willingly, tuck its wings in, and drift off into slumber. ]