[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

[sunderings]

[ A trick, is it? Again, there is the offering of Rory's hand, and it is almost humorous, ironic even, that Sion should be the hesitant party now, reluctant to take the gesture of good will where he'd extended the very same to the other man, once upon a time. Trust has precious little to do with the matter, it is only that, by virtue and by nature, Sion is stubborn, determined as always to progress on his own where he may, but...

He does not overlook them, the abrasions which tell a tale of Rory's time in the Gisela Towers, no more than he fails to notice the cut of the man's frame—truly, the man is a reed, and if Sion has one regret, it is not leaving Rory with the tray of gingerbread cookies they'd received on that day in thanks for raising a snowman!—and that is why he reaches out, in the end. It is so small a thing, to take Rory's hand, and it will only help the both of them.

Closing his eyes (and suppressing a yawn which had been inspired by Rory's own!), he forges a link of mana exchange with palm pressed to palm, his fingers curled about the other man's. ]

If this trick of yours fails to impress— [ Ever so slightly, Sion's voice lilts in play: ] —I will make you regret calling me pretty.

[ But only if. ]

I should also like to know what manner of man or creature boasts hair long enough to rival your own height.

[moreasleep]

Oh that's terrifying, I'd better do my best, then. I'll tell you more later, if I live through this.

[He could not help but smile. The man had a good sense of humour and Rory found himself enjoying his company. He firmly returned the grip around Sion's hand and the flow of mana was welcoming relief to his fatigue. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

As he exhaled, he began to push his mana forth through their connection. The move was sudden, seeking to greatly accelerate the amount of mana Sion would normally have from this simple exchange. While Rory did not gain any mana because of this, he did not lose any either. He precisely measured the amount of mana he poured out to maintain this balance.

The feel of his mana was not quite light, but empty, devoid of all duties, purpose, and compassion. It had instead turned into something selfish and carefree. While this was the same face from several months ago, he could not have been more different.]

[sunderings]

[ Oh. Truth be told, he's a little startled by it (as much is evident in his sharp intake of breath, the brief widening of his eyes), the sudden surge of mana through the link of their hands. In theory, the technique is nothing if not sound—Rory's mana output is only the equivalent of what the two of them might be able to generate together, leaving Sion with double the regain, and Rory himself with nothing, save for the task of maintaining the balance of the equation. Altogether, it is a marvelous trick, though it is also something which the King would have given protest to, were he not so distracted by the feel of Rory's energy.

Realms away from here, Sion had once prided himself upon his ability to read auras, how attuned he'd been to the energy flow of the world. From a great distance, he'd been able to sense the killing intent of his enemies, discern for himself the nature of all living things, and stay calamity before it could befall those otherwise unable to ward against it. In Enprise, he has long since come to terms that he is no longer (and may never be) that which he once had been, that the skills once intrinsic to him have been dampened, and yet...

Yet he cannot help but wonder at it, how unchanged Rory is or isn't. As the King finds himself renewed, growing less lethargic by the minute, he is able to more keenly focus upon his companion, finding the void within the man troubling.

But this concern, of course, does not show upon Sion's face. It manifests only in a thought, a silent pledge, that he will check in on the other man again and soon, to see for himself if this mood of Rory's has dissipated. ]

You survived the Gisela Towers, did you not? It would be a pity if you could not survive me.

[ A soft laugh: ] It is no sleight of hand, your trick.

[moreasleep]

[It was enough to see the startled look on Sion's face. If only he could have taken a picture of it, he would frame it on the wall. Giving his part of the mana up for it was a fair price. Even better, recognition was something he had never sought before, but it felt nice to have it.]

I got out of there alive, if that's what you mean. Can't say the same about my teammates.

[He said it casually, as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. The mana transfer over, he curled his arms into a nest to rest his head upon. While fatigue still tugged at his senses, he was not about to fall asleep yet. It was nice to have company and he did say he would tell more about the one with the impossible hair.]

His name's Ciaran. His hair is black and curly, it's even worse when it's wet. Washing it is a nightmare. I don't think he's had a haircut in his entire life.