[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

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. ]

[babbylon]

[Bluntly:]

Then I imagine you are afraid all the time.

[And that was truly a pitiful thing. What can he even say to that, that wouldn't be outright disparaging? Gilgamesh simply couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. But he does try. He tries to soften himself just enough, as Adra and Setsuna and many others had taught him to do.

Maybe mercy was good for something after all.]

You cannot live your life in fear. Yes, there are those who will hurt you; yes, there are those who will do you wrong. But to assume it of everyone, to flinch away and expect the worst on every occasion... I am a tyrant, a most terrible sort, yet when have I ever raised my hand against you?

[That's not to say he wouldn't. Even Gilgamesh admitted that he very well might. But.]

Live for yourself, Adrasteius. Do what you want. Feel what you want. Let no one take it from you, and let no one deny you your right to pleasure.

[hymnals]

[ He bristles at this lecture, drawing himself up, his eyes flashing. ]

I do not live my life in fear. I live it despite fear. You've been beside me enough--have you found me cowardly, reticent?

[ He lifts a hand, shakes his head. No. Gilgamesh can think whatever he wants. ]

That's not the point. The way I react to an unexpected advance--it's like kicking your leg when you're struck on the knee. It's automatic. I don't enjoy it.

[ The water, hot as it is, seems to be getting hotter. ]

And if I'm with someone enough, if I trust them, it does fade.

[ As Gil himself has likely experienced. ]

But in the meantime, I live with it. I go forward. I fight.

[ It is true: the fear is always with him.

But so is the fire. ]

[babbylon]

I find you unfortunate.

[His eyes flicker away. Not in submission, but in something like sympathy, or as close to as Gilgamesh could ever manage.]

To somehow believe yourself unworthy of what others enjoy... what else could I think, looking upon you now?

[hymnals]

[ His heart is sinking; fracturing. He's never told anyone about what he's just told Gilgamesh, neither directly nor indirectly. When he was young, it was because he didn't want anyone to get in trouble. As an adult, it was because of -- well, exactly this situation.

He swallows thickly, frustrated. ]

Not unworthy -- I just need someone --

[ He shuts his eyes. Exhales slowly. The energy drains from his voice. ]

Never mind. It doesn't matter. You're free to think whatever you want.

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh sets both of his hands on either side of Adra's face. He leans in, touches nose to nose, and mutters under his breath. His was not a voice meant for kindnesses, but even if he can never truly sound soft, he can sound sincere. And he does, word by measured word that falls from his lips.]

I said I found you unfortunate, not unseemly. You assume so much; you assume I would throw you away, or disregard you, because you spoke to displease me. That I would lose interest, that I would bring you to harm, as all others have. That I might leave you, as all others did.

[All very real possibilities. But Gilgamesh pushes past them, and, is his way, makes his own sort of truth instead. Reshapes the board as he sees fit.]

If you need someone, then let it be me. Let me show you how good it can be, and you will want for nothing else.

[hymnals]

[ He absolutely does assume each and every one of those things, and his eyes widen to hear Gilgamesh summarize them so succinctly. Not that Adra is a difficult person to read, really.

He takes hold of Gil's wrists, his grip light, but firm, warm. Always feverishly warm.

What should he do? What should he say?

He doesn't answer immediately. He just sits there, in the water, breathing softly. He likes this moment; this closeness. This contact.

Finally: ]

All right. All right, Gil. We can try.

[babbylon]

We can.

[He reasserts that, strongly. But he melts into a faint smile just moments after.]

When you are home, and when you are rested, and when you are ready.

[hymnals]

[ What he'd stopped himself from saying was: I need someone I can trust. And, to be sure, he trusts Gil, certainly enough to let the man take all kinds of liberties with his boundaries. Not every liberty, yet. But more than most.

Was that wise? There's no way to tell, but--even if it wasn't--Adra knows himself. Knows he's never let wisdom stop him before.

So it goes.

He kisses the inside of Gil's wrist. Brief and hot, and then he lets go. ]

Thank you.

[babbylon]

[No, it wasn't wise. Someday, Gilgamesh will hurt him. Someday, Gilgamesh will leave him. They both know it. They both understand it. He'd lured in a tyrant, and so a tyrant he'd have, until he tired of him as tyrants tire of all things. But for now...

For now, Gilgamesh sinks into the water, rests his head on Adra's shoulder, and shuts his eyes.]

I have no use for gratitude.

[But he can have use for a promise to stay.]

[hymnals]

[ Well, at least he'll have the hollow victory of an 'I told you so'. It's been cold comfort in the past, and will be so again.

'Til then, he runs his fingers through Gil's hair. ]

Hmm. Then I'll just reiterate what I said before: I won't give up.

[ Because that will always be true, too. ]