[Open] It's getting hot in here

[showsnopiety]

Who: Caren and anyone visiting the hot springs!
When: Post dungeon, could be right after fail/success, could be days after
Where: Hot Springs of course
What: There's a hot springs, so now there's a hot springs episode.
Rating: Could be a p-13 and beyond because some people are only wearing towels in this place.





[Win or fail, everyone needed a reason and a way to relax. With the fall of the towers, there was all sorts of good things to come from it. Some would say it was the birds; and others would say it was the hot springs.

The large, large pools of heated water. Sure, they could be used as a way to get all steamed up (or even steam punk) but after all that hard work, everyone deserves a break!

Bring your swimsuits, your towels, your drinks and snacks-who knows, you should be able to find them in the bazaars, or even on Airy. It's time to soak in the heat!]

Comments

[hymnals]

[ He looks down at the water, his bones and muscles loud with pain, exacerbated by the sharp shot of misery that strikes him as he listens to Gilgamesh speak. At first, he'd been unsure of what precisely Gil wanted of him, but the past few weeks have brought the truth into stark, undeniable relief. Though he isn't relieved by it at all. ]

I know you do, Gil.

[ Adra's people are not the stuffy, slow moving elves of other legends. They're hotblooded, quick thinking, always adapting and changing. Adra is no different. This world is shaping him, and Gil has a hand in that. But the core of him, the things that make him who he truly is--those things are unshakable.

He lifts his damp hands, lets the water drip from his fingers. Lets fire come to his palms, to burn and dry away the rest. He places a warm palm against Gil's cheek, but he doesn't look up. ]

Is that all you want of me? My body? Is that the sole object of the game you've been playing? What will you do if I let you win?

[ What do I even mean to you? ]

[babbylon]

[Suddenly, abruptly:]

I want you to come with me.

[It's a matter that should've required thought, substantial thought, but Gilgamesh just blurts out what he wants right away. Perhaps it should've been expected, though it's a surprise to him, as well, what he feels and how strongly he feels for it. But the King of Heroes, for all his cruelty, truly could feel as deeply as anyone else. Sometimes it was veiled, and others it was not. He has no reason to lie; he's already vowed to earn Adra's affections the hard way, for all it was unnecessary.]

I want you to... keep fighting with me. I want you to speak with me, about anything, about everything. About how to cook vegetables, so they are tastiest, about how to pick flowers, so they are freshest. I want you to follow me and I want you to tell me I wasn't wrong to place my faith in others.

[Those last bits aren't exactly fair. He realizes that. But he's greedy, so he asks anyway. And he asks for even more still.]

I want you to convince me that there are people who are good, that there is any good at all in the world. That humanity can still prosper, still thrive.

[A king must walk alone, must always be alone—]

Convince me, against even myself, Adrasteius. Stay with me, and ease the hatred in my heart, towards all those I was intended to protect.

[hymnals]

[ He listens to all of that without moving a muscle, keeping his hand cupped against Gil's cheek, the pressure light and gentle. He doesn't look up until Gilgamesh stops speaking, and then he does, his felfire eyes hot with sudden vitality.

Typically, he's quite good at reading people, and he knows he's hit on some truths about Gil before. But those were about Gil as a person--not about how Gil might relate to or consider Adra in any way. That sort of thing was much more difficult for Adra to judge correctly. He had blocks when it came to discerning how others felt about him, what they wanted, if they were genuine or otherwise. He failed so often. He gave of himself, he loved as hard as he could, he let himself be emptied and crushed and left in ruins. Every time, hoping that it would mean something. That it would somehow help.

Adra's never really sure that it does.

But he also knows that, for himself, he can't stop trying. He can't stop being who he is, any more than Gilgamesh can.

So his fingers curl against Gil's cheek. He rises up--not quite on tip-toe, given that they're in water, but he's drawing himself beyond his usual height all the same--and he kisses Gil. A gentle, light, chaste kiss, but his mouth is soft; pliant and warm. ]

I won't give up on you.

[ Adra believes that Gil is sincere. But he'd feel the same, regardless. He won't give up. He never has. No matter how much it hurts, in the end. ]

[babbylon]

[I won't give up on you.

It reminds him of someone. It shouldn't. He sincerely wishes that it didn't. But he hears that voice, coming from another, and it fills him with warmth and reassurance. Of course, none of this will matter soon enough. He'll go back to doubting. He'll go back to questioning, go back to asking himself why he doesn't just use and abuse this individual like he did all the others before him. Why he's grown so soft, and so quickly, towards so many people.

Can one be a tyrant King, and still be compassionate in small doses? Later, he will wonder. But for now, in this moment, he will believe what he's been told.]

You're awfully persistent.

[It's said through a breathy laugh, however, as Gilgamesh returns the kiss: gentle, light, and chaste, as Adrasteius deserves.]

But... I do like that about you. I like many things about you; to focus solely on your body strikes me as a serious waste.

[hymnals]

[ Adra pulls back, sinks down. He looks up at the sky, at the falling sun, the faint outline of the moon. ]

Yeah? Most people find it annoying.

[ Like every elf in the magisterial council, for instance. ]

But I like you, too, Gil.

[ He pauses, and shakes his head. He thinks of Bolin, what he said that day in Heaven's Feel. How little time they have together. ]

No, that's not true. I love you.

[ He shrugs. ]

No matter how you might feel about me.

[babbylon]

[It's not exactly a shocking confession. Unlike most, Gilgamesh did not see such feelings as all that revolutionary. He gave his love to many; many gave them theirs in return. Gilgamesh gave so freely of himself, in fact, that the words almost seemed a little late. But he doesn't disparage the sentiment, either, smiling in an almost boyish sort of way. For a fleeting moment, he is as he appears: a young man, no older than twenty, who has yet to truly see the world.]

You may have my love, if you wish for it. Did you feel as though you had to ask? To tell me this, to earn it?

[Gilgamesh pulls at a cheek, playfully, sticking his tongue out.]

Oh, my. Certainly you expected some form of drama to come of this, hm? But did you ever wonder what might happen if I let you win?

[hymnals]

[ God damn it! This is serious. Serious time and serious talk!!

His ears fold against either side of his head, and his cheeks darken as he narrows his eyes. Huffs. ]

I only ever wish for the truth, no matter what it is. And I'm not interested in winning anything, because I'm not playing a game!

[babbylon]

So you would tell me you do not desire the great, glorious, magnificent-in-all-ways Gilgamesh as your prize?

[...Gilgamesh sure had a way of ruining the Moment. In his mind, he's only enhancing it.]

[hymnals]

[ Oh, for the Light's sake. He puts a hand on Gil's chest ... and uses it as leverage to push the fuck away, gliding backwards in the water. ]

You know, it's perfectly possible for me to hate someone while also loving them! I contain multitudes!

[ He slaps the water. ]

And I don't want a prize at all!

[babbylon]

How does one say "I love you" in Thalassian?

[Gilgamesh also has an uncanny way of recovering from his own seemingly irreparable errors without any effort at all.]

[hymnals]

[ He frowns, as though reluctant to part with the knowledge. But he murmurs, after a moment. ]

Kene'thil surfas.

[babbylon]

Kene'thil surfas.

[Did he say it just for practice? Or did he really mean it after all? Neither expression nor intonation offer any clues.]

[hymnals]

[ Adra can't tell himself, of course. So his ears just lay completely flat. ]

Excellent pronunciation.

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh laughs in reply and swims back over to him. He reaches for an ear and massages it nice and straight again... or maybe he just makes it worse, but hey, at least he tried. At any rate, as cute as it is, he doesn't want Adra grumping. This was meant to be a happy occasion, after all, to celebrate their victory.]

You might say I have a talented tongue. Verbosity comes naturally to me.

[Among other things.]

[hymnals]

Ah--

[ He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. Couldn't hold it back that time. ]

You can't just grab my ear every time you want the advantage, Gil--

[ Hardly sporting. ]

[babbylon]

[Ah, yes, there it is. As if he's holding the Grail itself, Gilgamesh grins in triumph and continues rubbing.]

Shall I let go? If you find it so unpleasant, perhaps it would be for the best...

[hymnals]

[ He grinds his teeth, struggling to restrain another moan. Why were there so many nerves in his earlobe? It wasn't fair. ]

Yes, let go--oh.

[ THE WORST ]

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh honors his unspoken promise. He does let go. But he also endears himself fast to Adra's side to compensate, practically on top of his lap with his hands resting on his shoulders. And of course, he's smiling ever so innocently, as if he wasn't just tormenting the poor elf not moments ago.]

You needn't be ashamed of it, Adrasteius. It's part of your body, and deriving pleasure from it... it's all but natural.

[His eyes hood, purposely.]

Shall I teach you? It is part of your face, as we agreed.

[hymnals]

[ Well, that's a frustratingly slick technicality. ]

I'm not ....--

[ No. He is ashamed. Ashamed to waste time like this, to indulge like this. He doesn't mind frivolity in others; he's happy to facilitate it at Heaven's Feel, even. Happy to see other people enjoying themselves, and each other. ]

This sort of thing. It's just not for me. That's all.

[babbylon]

You do not like it, or you do not believe you deserve it?

[Because as Gilgamesh had come to understand, with Adra, those were two very different distinctions. Distinctions that needed to be drawn.]

[hymnals]

The latter, I suppose.

[ His ears flick back, but they don't fall flat; it's simply an indication of (somewhat aggrieved) thought. ]

Deserve isn't quite the right word. It's just--not what I'm meant to be doing. It's not useful.

[babbylon]

It is useful.

[And shockingly, it's not said just because he's interested in an easy lay, as he elaborates.]

It is the closest connection we stand to share as people. It is warmth and love and affection; it is reassurance and stability; it is a light in the dark, when nothing else shines. I am surprised, Adrasteius, that one of your nature would scorn it. It is practically your calling.

[Or at least he assumed as much, as a priest. As gently as he can, with tenderness nearly unsuited to a self-proclaimed tyrant, he rests a hand on Adra's cheek, as had been done to him. He strokes where he can feel bone, beneath the shape of an eye, through his hair and under his chin, and very, very faintly over the shell of an ear.]

Intimacy is not anything to shy away from, little sun. I am surprised, but I also am saddened you would not want it for yourself.

cw abuse

[hymnals]

[ Those are solid arguments. He can't deny them, really. Much as he'd prefer to think otherwise, a body is not just a body. It's a vessel for connection; the best the universe can offer. But Adra's anxieties over intimacy go beyond his impression of it as self-indulgent, as wasteful. They strike at old fears, old disappointments.

He mutters, covering Gilgamesh's hand with his own. He shudders, even from the ghost of sensation against his ear. ]

Truthfully, Gil ... I agree with you. We connect through this contact, skin to skin. But we cause so much suffering that way, too.

[ How many times had someone (a particular someone) taken his hand, only to crush his fingers? How many times had a seeming embrace turned to punishment, to Adra bleeding on the floor? How is he meant to trust that it won't happen again? That he's safe?

More than anything, he wants to relinquish control. To be held, firmly, in the hands of another person. It's a terrifying, thrilling thought. But so much holds him back, beyond his notions of work ethic, beyond his disappointments in past relationships. So many silent, still years of fractured bones and bloodied knuckles. Things he's never spoken of to anyone, nor imagines that he ever would. ]

[babbylon]

[He hasn't said much, but it's enough for Gilgamesh to piece the truth together. Quietly, he states:]

You fear that I would hurt you, as you have been hurt before.

[hymnals]

I fear that with everyone.

[ That's his thought process, whenever he's touched unexpectedly. Don't hurt me. Please, please, don't hurt me. ]