pawnstorm | housewarming ✿ open

Entry tags:

housewarming ✿ open

Who: Adra and all y'all
When: About a week after the dungeon; in the afternoon and going on until evening
Where: Adra & Gil's house
What: HOUSEWARMING MINGLE come eat the enchanted food
Rating: this is a family log

✿ THE HOUSE ✿

Adra's house is a cozy stone cottage on the outskirts of Caissa, close enough to the sea that one can hear the breaking waves throughout the day.

This afternoon, there's light, cool rain falling intermittently, tapping in a rhythm at the windows and roof. Fortunately, the kitchen is warm, bright, and welcoming. Its counters and tables are covered with freshly prepared foods of all kinds, and there are plenty of chairs for visitors who might like to sit and relax.

A door from the kitchen leads out into the garden, which is not quite yet fully landscaped, but which boasts a promising array of flowers (orchids, roses, lilies, tulips, etc) and herbs. Adra's also cultivating strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, and so on; the strawberries and cherries in particular are ripe for picking. Adra has strung enchanted, floating fairy lights all over the garden; they cast a soft, ethereal glow over the paths and carefully tended patches of greenery. At the garden's center, there's a clear pond filled with red and pink lotus blossoms.

Back inside, a visitor might like to rest in the den. There's a roaring fire in the hearth, and sitting near it for a short while offers a boost to the weary spirit. Soft, plush chairs and couches fill this room, making it ideal for lounging. The tables are covered with books borrowed somewhat indiscreetly from the library; they deal largely with the magic and history of Enprise.

Adjacent to the den is Adra's study. In here are half-empty bookshelves and antique rolling desk covered with neat stacks of papers, boxes of quills, and numerous pots of ink, each one in different, brilliant colors. His journal is somewhere here, too ...

Finally, down the hall one will find a half bathroom and, across from that, the door to the second bedroom--belonging to one Gilgamesh. The master bedroom, belonging to Adrasteius, is at the end of the hall. There's a full bath in there, but this room is definitively locked.

✿ THE SPREAD ✿

As usual, Adra's gone over the top in his preparations. For drinks, there's a sweet, refreshing punch; delicately pink and decorated with sprigs of flowers. There are pitchers of sparkling ice water, jugs of wine and spiced mead, and plenty of glasses to share.

Though Adra does not eat meat himself, he prepares it ably; there's a honey-glazed, roasted turkey in the center of the table, right beside a carving board heavy with seasoned, hand-carved slices of fresh beef. Red potatoes, bright with paprika and salt and glistening with pats of melting butter, are arranged in wedges around the turkey. There are woven baskets of steaming rolls, flaky and soft; platters of carrots and broccoli and asparagus; enormous bowls of belly-warming soup filled with thick wheat noodles, sliced egg, and shredded cabbage. At one end of the table, there's a plate of burgers, along with small dishes to fix them--bacon, crispy onions, sauteed mushrooms, and all the necessary condiments. He has plates of savory pies, filled with beef or pork or chicken; steamed and fried dumplings stuffed with meat and spring vegetables, plump and perfectly shaped.

The desserts are similarly extravagant: he has a plate of meticulously crafted flower and fruit cakes; some look like ripe, blushing peaches, others, he shaped into red orchids, lotus blossoms, or golden roses. He's made a chocolate tart so dark that its smooth, sugar-dusted surface shimmers reflectively in the overhead light. Cupcakes of all kinds are scattered here and there, as well as an extravagant, multi-tiered confection dripping with fudge sauce, encrusted with sliced strawberries and vibrantly colorful, fondant flower petals. There are loaves of warm banana bread; fruit tarts glittery with rainbow sugar crystals; and, under glass, an assortment of flavorful macarons baked to look like something plucked right from the starry sky.

But the most important thing about Adra's lavish banquet is this: all of the food is enchanted, laced with magic meant to inspire feelings of comfort and security. Eating it may conjure up familiar, welcome sensations or memories--nothing sorrowful or painful, and only as specific as you'd like. It could be something as simple as the feeling of a fuzzy blanket on a cold day, or as complex as a particular soothing memory. In all cases, the intended effect is meant to inspire calm and ease.

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[ Indeed, it was heavy, and Adra didn't mind Gilgamesh going off and doing his own thing. He knew Gil would be in his element: surrounded by people, in a space he also called his own, able to charm and entertain as he does so well. He had observed some of Gil's interactions, as he'd observed everyone, just to be sure they were happy, and it did seem like Gilgamesh had fun. So that was good enough for him.

He doesn't pull back, but he glances at his sleeve. ]

If you'd like.

[ He was in the process of unlocking the door to the master bedroom, and he adds, lightly-- ]

My place, or yours?

[Gilgamesh takes the invitation as a positive sign, and he'd be remiss to turn it down. So he'll nod, mutters a yours will do and while he opens the door and gets settled, Gilgamesh slips back to own quarters to grab something. He's quick to return, now holding a small black box in his hands and lingering by the doorway.]

I have a gift for you. If you will accept.

[He's nothing like nervous, because Gilgamesh never was around others, but he's uncertain how receptive Adra might be. If he'll see it as something cheap to earn his favor rather than an earnest extension of his affections. He hadn't intended for things to become awkward by the spring, but as always, Adra's true wants elude him.

But Adra was kind-hearted enough that Gilgamesh knows he'll accept it either way. His heart swims a little, and he almost looks a little boyish awaiting his response.]

[ He reaches to take the box, his expression--for once--largely unreadable. But he takes a few steps back into the room, suggesting that he doesn't mind if Gil crosses the threshold.

The box he turns over in his hands, not opening it right away. He's been given a couple gifts since he came to Enprise, but he's still not accustomed to it. Not sure what to make of it. But he can't say he's really opposed, either.

He murmurs, eyes half-lidded. ]

Of course I will.

[ And he opens the box. ]

Edited (ico n...) 2016-06-01 04:10 (UTC)

[Nestled inside is a delicate comb, carved with flecks of real gold and depicting a rising phoenix on its side. Adra will recognize its origins immediately, as its feathers are suspiciously lifelike—a single touch confirms this was part of the same feather they recovered from their dungeon adventure. It's soft, and even the mildest contact inspires hope and healing. The comb itself seems to radiate a similar aura, as if enchanted.

Gilgamesh tries not to preen over himself too much, but it's obvious he's holding back a great deal of enthusiasm for his gift. Proudly, he crows:]

I made it myself! Now, a little piece of this King will always be with you.

[Gilgamesh cannot even wait for a timely reaction, nudging Adra with one of his infamously infectious grins.]

Do you like it? Well, of course you do, but how much do you like it? I will accept a rating on a scale from one to utterly magnificent!

[ He's shocked into temporary silence, which is honestly the highest compliment Gilgamesh could receive. It's a gorgeous gift, and it strikes at everything he likes, both privately (fine grooming tools) and openly (phoenixes).

He runs his fingers over the shimmering feathers, saying nothing, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. It's not in his nature to become overly attached to physical objects, but when they're given as gifts, when they're made by hand, with thought and care ... it's clear that he already cherishes this.

Finally, he manages, his voice a little rough and hoarse. ]

It's ... it's truly special, Gil.

[ He presses the comb to his cheek, not even minding the teeth. ]

I won't ever let it go.

[Gods, whoever let one creature be so beautiful... sometimes, Gilgamesh wasn't the best at reading body language, but here he knows he's struck gold. Literally. It's as if all that awkwardness has evaporated between them, and its place stands genuine joy. Gilgamesh reaches for either side of Adra's face, and lifts his head high, like the most beloved prize. The King and his treasure, side by side and smiling.]

Good. This pleases me.

[Gilgamesh lets him go after basking in that mutual sun he's always able to conjure on the spot, then gestures to the bed.]

It would please me all the more to spoil you with it. You have made our house a home, and in so doing, have more than earned your reward.

[ Gil did strike gold, but ... the initial rush of the gift runs its course, leaving Adra feeling uncertain. He stares up into Gil's eyes as the other man holds his face, wondering what Gil's thinking. His enthusiasm is obviously genuine--but Adra's inclined to think it generally always is. The issue is more what he might be enthusiastic about.

He recalls the hot spring vividly, and the dungeon, too. The strangeness between Gil and Saber. The way Gil had repeated the Thalassian phrase for 'I love you', in a way that suggested no clear meaning. How Adra had, as he seems to with Gil, said too much, perhaps ventured too far.

He clutches the comb, feeling shy, but after such a long day ... his hair is a mess. ]

I-if you mean, brush my hair, then, sure. We can do that.

[ He sits on the edge of the bed, very prim as always, and of course still fully clothed in his civilian outfit--long red coat and all. ]

[It works to his favor anyway; Gilgamesh finds the shyness endearing, and so slips behind him onto the mattress with a suspicious lack of sound. Suspicious because it suggests that Gilgamesh was very, very good at the art of ambushing others when he chose to. But here, it's only his hands waiting in ambush, and only to claim the comb and coax Adra out of his coat.]

I never would've guessed you to be so domestic. You are truly a talent in the field, Adra.

[Just like a proper woman, he stops short of teasing. Although he'd largely hoisted himself into Adra's home out of convenience, he was growing to like it more and more for other reasons. For the company, and also for the relative privacy. Gilgmaesh was a social creature, but even he prized some alone time every now and then.

Gilgamesh pulls out a particularly tangled length of hair and starts combing it out.]

I never would've guessed... that you might favor others so much. That you could love, so much and so freely, without prejudice or judgment.

[Some might envy him for that. But Gilgamesh didn't.]

[ The coat's off, spread out now over the bed, and Adra relinquishes the comb without fuss (much as he'd like to keep petting those phoenix feathers). He makes a 'hmmnh' noise in his throat at the compliments. ]

I've been a soldier since I was young.

[ He's not sure if Gil can really believe that, either. ]

But I was always happiest when I was at home. Making something for someone.

[ His ingrate of a brother, typically, but it didn't change the facts. A welcoming house, well attended, well kept ... that's what he's always wanted. The kind of life he dreams about. He doesn't really even have it here, given everything that's asked of the visitors to Enprise. But he can have a little slice of it, sometimes, he thinks.

He shuts his eyes as Gil starts in properly on his hair, exhaling slowly. It's an exquisite sensation, having his hair brushed. ]

That's the only way I know how to live. The only way I feel is right to live. It's like I've told you, Gil ... we are all together. Not just in this world, but in this universe. We have to care for each other. Love each other.

[ The exhale turns to a sigh. ]

Or do our best, anyway.

I do not believe it be wrong.

[A surprising confession, maybe, from a so-called tyrant. But he goes on to explain.]

I cannot agree with it, myself. I was born to rule over humanity with cold, distant eyes. The eyes of one who sees beyond, who exists beyond, who must set aside emotion and pursue the best course of action, no matter the cost. That is the sort of person I am, the sort I will always be.

[And there's nothing like apology in his tone for it. Gilgamesh was not a man prone to regrets. He was not a man who would look back at himself and ask, how could I do better? because he had already done his best by the virtue of who and what he was. That's what made this world so difficult; it challenged these beliefs at every turn.

It made him wonder, can I be better? even if he'd argue there was no room for improvement whatsoever.]

I met someone like you, who came into my life with similar intensity. He wept over animals; he cried about people. His heart was so big, I worried it might shatter at any moment. He valued life as much as you, and always cautioned me against undue violence. He was the balance to my temper.

[Simply:]

I loved him more than anything. I was his... and he was mine.

[ He listens to Gilgamesh carefully, as he always does. When Adra engages with someone, he always maintains absolute focus on them, always minds whatever subtle clues and meaning he can. Always invests his energy and attention, utterly, on the person beside him.

The talk of his tyranny, his disagreement--it discomfits Adra, but it doesn't surprise him, either. It's well in line with what Gil's spoken of about himself before, and with his own behavior.

(Still, he thinks: there is always potential to change. To improve.)

But he turns his head when Gilgamesh begins speaking of--someone like him. A memory comes to him.

My heart belongs to another. ]

This person ... he's the one with your heart.

[ Less a question than a conclusion, waiting to be confirmed. ]

[Gilgamesh doesn't appear bothered by this revelation. He just hums and continues combing, occasionally pausing to run his fingers through a few rebellious strands the comb couldn't quite catch. And sometimes, those same fingers will skim along the back of his neck, tracing little symbols in his skin that only he can read.

He smiles faintly when their eyes meet. Of course, Gilgamesh has nothing to hide from anyone, so he'd claim.]

Were you after a piece, as well?

[An assumption answered with another. But was it really?]

[ Adra holds the gaze, his expression solemn. ]

A heart cannot be taken. Only freely given.

[ It's not a straightforward answer, exactly. But it's what he's thinking. ]

[A comforting thought, and again, something his brother would've said. But it is not his brother before him, so he must adjust accordingly.]

And if were to give but a little...?

I would care for it as best I could.

[ And with that, he does look away. ]

[He doesn't.

Gilgamesh leans in to kiss him first.]

[ It catches him off guard. He puts his hands up, but they're only grasping at air, uselessly. Squeezes his eyes shut, making a soft whimpering noise in his throat. Why, why? What did it mean? ]

[He sounds... distressed. Gilgamesh had never known a man to be distressed by the mere act of a kiss from a King. He's almost offended, except he remembers that Adra has always had this fearfulness since from when they first met, so he handles it better than he otherwise would.

Which is to say, when Adra seems to cry a little, Gilgamesh stops and doesn't immediately throw a tantrum for having his fun ruined. What a noble achievement.]

Do you feel unsafe? Uncertain? Unwell?

[All three, by the looks of it. Did he go and ruin the mood again? His lips twist into a frown, but he will wait rather than abandon ship. He will stay with him.]

[ He shakes his head, his cheeks flushing. ]

No, Gil. I never feel unsafe with you.

[ Even if he probably should. ]

I just--

[ He runs his fingers through his hair. ]

I don't know. I'm overthinking things. We started talking about hearts, and I ...

[ He lies down on the bed, on his coat, his long hair spreading like a fan around his head. ]

Sorry.

Why do you apologize to me?

[It isn't sarcastic or smarmy. He genuinely wants to know. Setting aside the comb, Gilgamesh lies with Adra and rests arms upon his chest. In another world away, Gilgamesh could tear him apart. Maybe he still could. But he wouldn't, not simply for the thrill of it. Gilgamesh would chastise the harlot, but never beat them; punish the criminal, but never unfairly so. Tyrants were very different beasts than madmen, a distinction Gilgamesh always drew for himself.

He cups a cheek and wonders what overthinking things means for an elf.]

You've done nothing to displease me. You speak your mind freely, and not once have you acted like some simpering mongrel, licking my boots to earn my favor. But nor are you too bold, ever ready with a kind word or helpful spell. You are just enough. You are you, and I have always liked you.

[And that is the long and the short of the matter. Though he adds, just to clarify:]

I am afraid I will need more of a reason to discard you other than just because. I am far too fond for that.

Fond, huh.

[ He shuts his eyes, trying to focus just on the warmth of the hand against his cheek. ]

I didn't mean to react so strongly, that's all. It's only that ...

[ He makes loopy gestures with his hands. ]

When you start talking like you just did, I never know if it's real, or if it's just part of your, you know--sex dance.

[ Like in the spring, with the Thalassian phrase Adra had taught him. ]

My "sex dance"?

[Hang on. This stern heart-to-heart now interrupted by Gilgamesh trying not to burst into laughter and failing. Many things his courtship ritual had been compared to in the past, but never sex dance. It sends his mind going all kinds of crazy places, and none of them too serious.]

Ahahaha, oh... but... should I start flapping about more? Perhaps throw in a few attractive cawing noises to complete my ensemble?

[Love him or hate him, Gilgamesh had just about the most obnoxious laugh in the world, though eventually he does calm himself down again to speak.]

Of course it is real, you ridiculous excuse for an elf. To argue that any part of me is anything less than the genuine article is absolute absurdity!

[ He turns bright red. He's still being dead serious, here! ]

Y'know, Gil, I actually do believe that most of the time.

[ He opens his eyes, and reaches to touch Gilgamesh's face, to brush his thumbs across the other man's cheeks. ]

But do I believe that because it's true, or because you're so skilled at manipulation?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Would you really give me even a small part of your heart?

[His skin turns flush where it's touched, and he makes a soft sound of his own, one distinctly of pleasure. He enjoyed contact, even in a world where it didn't carry inherently beneficial connotations; most simply didn't dare to try, especially around his face. This was, quite clearly, a good move to make, and Gilgamesh encourages more of it, holds onto his hands so they can't wander too far. Greedy, almost. Insistent upon attention as only Gilgamesh could ever be.]

It seems I have some of it to spare, removed from my proper throne, so yes. For the moment, I don't mind at all.

[But their definitions of it, of giving one's heart, might differ. It did not necessarily mean total devotion. Merely a guarantee of affection, on some level.]

Will you treat this precious belonging of mine well, however... that is a different story. I expect the very best care from you, as I rightly deserve.

[ He keeps his hands where they are, not trying to resist or pull away. His fingers move in gentle, deft strokes beneath Gil's eyes, across his cheekbones. ]

For the moment ... I suppose that's your prerogative.

[ He does get the sense that their ideas about this situation are different; perhaps significantly so. But he's never required anyone to love him back. He's not likely to start now. ]

But I have a pretty decent record.

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