meadowlarklogs | you got a grip

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you got a grip

WHO: Ardyn & X’rhun
WHERE: Their new apartment.
WHEN: September 16th.
WHAT: Settling in.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Ardyn exists in this log. Warnings to be updated when necessary.

[It isn’t much.

In fact, it’s hardly anything at all. The apartment they’ve cast themselves within is “cozy”, as the descriptor goes, but it’s euphemism for a harsher truth — it’s small, cramped, looking only bigger than it is because it’s hardly furnished.

The layout is what one might expect, the complex itself suited to those with lower incomes and shallow pockets. A living area with a large window facing eastward, offering a decent view of the immediate outward city when the unrelenting sun begins its lazy crawl above the horizon (now, it’s harsh and heated, and Ardyn has a distaste for the light sliding through the tall glass); a kitchenette with empty countertops in the same space, connected adjacent; a stout hallway that leads from the living room and three closed doors to line it (two bedrooms, a very tiny washroom for laundry), and a shared bathroom at the end.

For now, though, Ardyn merely opens his arms wide as he gestures outwardly at their very empty living space, pointedly not standing in the sun.]

Well, this is hospitable, isn’t it?

[In the corner, there’s a loveseat that’s been blessedly(?) left behind, and he saunters over to it, sinking deep into the cushions with a flourish.]

I claim the chair — you can have the floor.

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[ He’s seen worse.

He’s also seen far better, but the fact of the matter remains, that he has seen worse. Ishgard’s Sleeping Knight, for instance, was one of the most threadbare and disheveled excuses for an Inn he’d ever seen in his life, but it had a bed, four walls, and a roof, so he could hardly complain when the alternative was to be cast out into the snow.

There may be no snow outside, but the sweltering heat is hardly any better. He is glad for a space of his own – their own, rather – and whatever modicum of privacy comes with it, getting them out of the unforgiving summer sun and the safehouse both.

Ardyn, stubborn feline that he is, immediately lays claim to the first piece of furniture he sees, which has X’rhun rolling his eyes. He sets his hat aside, now that they’re away from the prying eyes of the locals. ]

If you really want the chair that badly, then it’s yours. I think I’ll be taking the bed rather than the floor, however.

[ Yes, much like the poor loveseat left abandoned in the corner, one of the bedroom hosts a single bed. Otherwise there isn’t much, apart from the kitchen. They clearly have some shopping to do. ]

[The most indolent feline, the sort that sprawls out his limbs to take up the most room in an unnecessary way. That’s the state of Ardyn, spreading arms out to rest across the length of the loveseat’s back, sinking into the cushions as if he possessed no care in the world. He tilts his head back, huffing up laughter at the stark white ceiling above, and crosses a leg.]

You can’t have the bed. Wherever am I supposed to sleep? Oh, it wouldn’t have been a problem before—

[Dismissive flick of a wrist.]

—but now? Sleep calls, dreams invade, and what better place to suffer through mortal necessities than in a bed?

Edited 2019-02-04 21:14 (UTC)

I can’t have the bed, and yet you get to lay claim to the only other piece of furniture in the place? Come now, Ardyn, you can sleep in the chair if you're so enamored with it.

[ Well, if Ardyn has claimed the chair – and he very thoroughly has – X’rhun will make do with what he has. Which is to say with all the brazen disregard for propriety of a teenager lifts himself to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter, feet dangling. ]

I suppose we ought to start a shopping list, hm?

I suppose. [He straightens with a great sigh, as if it takes all the effort in the known universe to do so, languorous and heavy on his shoulders.] How many times must one redecorate in a lifetime? If I could just whisk all my belongings from Olympia to New Amsterdam…

[If only he could do a multitude of things. If only his magic were not under lock and key, and he could make this whole moving and rearranging-furniture-into-their-proper-places less of a chore. Thousands of years of existence has made him able, has made him knowledgable and almost ineffable — but it’s also made him lazy, feeling little urgency in the mundane.]

I leave the interior decorating to you, X’rhun. [And also moving things around, putting furniture together, wrangling with image-based instructions that might as well be hieroglyphics.] Don’t disappoint.

[have fun at cyberpunk ikea]

As much as I would like to do that same, I’ve a feeling Valiant would stick out like a sore thumb. Not to mention how she’d deal with the heat.

[ Valiant!! He misses her. He can only home the chocobo is in good hands with Alisaie and her Prompto, if they still yet reside on El Nysa’s surface.

He watches Ardyn sprawl out and lazily shirk the furniture duties onto his shoulders. X’rhum simply rolls his eyes, snatching his hat from the countertop to lob it at Ardyn. ]

No you don’t. Your name is on that infernal lease the same as mine. You’ll not be getting out of decorating that easily.

[The hat flies in his direction like a lopsided frisbee, and Ardyn makes no effort to stop it as he collides squarely against his chest, then lands flatly on his lap. He makes a faux surprised noise, picking it up by its brim with thumb and forefinger.]

It's the wrong name. Does that still make it official?

[Ardyn Sky, definitely not his legal name, thank you very much.

Ardyn places X'rhun's hat on his head. It sits askew, obscuring one eye.]

You wouldn't make Valiant have to redecorate with you. [THIS LOGIC]

It is the right name insofar as this place is concerned.

[ Ardyn Izunia isn’t even technically his real name, so it’s a lame excuse at best.

X’rhun slips off his place on the countertop, padding over to where his friend sits. He tips the brim of that hat away from Ardyn’s eyes with the careful lifting of a finger. ]

Of course I would. Don’t you know? Chocobo décor is all the rage in Eorzea.

[ no, really ]

[He looks up at him with those gold, uncaring eyes. They're alight with the usual level of amusement, the kind that simmers beneath the surface and allows for listless retorts.]

Eorzea, truly a land of great taste.

[why this.

His hand snakes up, curling fingers around X'rhun's wrist; with any luck, there's the edge of a sleeve there to obstruct the empathy bond.]

Convince me, beyond the boringly mundane reasons of shared obligations and fake names on leases, why I should be so compelled to help you. When I know you would likely do a far more interesting job than I.

[ As much as he dislikes wearing sleeves in this damnable heat, he has kept up the habit – mostly for this express purpose. He will need to ease into the great sea of turmoil that is Ardyn Izunia. ]

Because, my dearest friend, I am but one man, with one pair of arms and one income to spend. Besides, if you do not help me with the furniture, I shall never hang so much as a single curtain in this entire apartment, and you will be left to deal with the sunlight assaulting you as you try to sleep.

[At that, he crinkles up his nose, and this time it's an expression that isn’t just for show.]

You’d not be so cruel to my sensibilities. And besides—

[A shifting noise, which is Ardyn scooting to the side in the most sluggish way possible, gesturing at the now-empty seat beside him for his friend to sit.]

—if I have trouble sleeping, I shall guarantee that you do, as well. Not a wise decision on your part.

I have weathered worse than you annoying me while I’m trying to sleep. Bring it on, I say.

[ He flashes Ardyn a grin, accompanied by the flicking of his ears. X’rhun is not a terribly big person, and so slots into the empty space next to Ardyn easily enough, draping his tail lazily over his friend’s legs. ]

But, best we avoid the whole mess to begin with, don’t you think?

[X’rhun’s tail is of no consequence to Ardyn, especially since the man is keen on leaning closer, by way of being the most annoying person in the world. A shoulder bumps up against the other, and he leans his head back again — red hair sprawls messily around him, like flame that can’t be bothered to burn.]

I’d say you’ve weathered quite a bit more, and enjoyed it at that.

[A grin that shows a flash of white.]

But consider this alternative — we both share this chair. It’s comfortable enough.

[ X’rhun’s eyes slide over to Ardyn, to the way he leans back, and he cannot help but run his gaze along the line of his throat, catching on that predator’s grin. No, he cannot deny that he enjoys Ardyn’s company and especially their tumbles in the sheets more than he probably should, knowing what he knows about the man.

He leans over, bumping his shoulder against Ardyn’s in turn. ]

A lone chair and a lone bed hardly make for the best of living conditions. I’m afraid I’ll not let the subject drop until you agree to come shopping with me.

[Exhibit A: In which Ardyn attempts to distract from the main point.]

One chair might be problematic, I will give you that. A table wouldn’t go amiss to pair with it.

[He shifts his body, an elbow pressing into the back of the loveseat, allowing him to lean in further, knees practically knocking against his friend’s.]

A single bed, though— I can think of a few reasons why that wouldn’t be so terrible, hm?

[ Oh, he knows where this is going. He’s not so distracted by looking Ardyn over that he lacks the ability to lean away slightly when Ardyn leans in, expression altogether unimpressed. ]

Ardyn Izunia, you naughty man. I believe you’re trying to distract me.

[The faux frown that follows is so over exaggerated that it might as well be part of the distraction tactic, too.]

I am doing no such thing. [A hand splays across his chest, pressing into the fabric of his shirt. The very idea!]

But I see now just how keen you are to entertain the idea. Thinking I only propose as much to be manipulative and deceitful. Don’t you trust me?

[ He wonders if this is a good sign, that Ardyn is back to theatrics rather than outright cruelty. But then, X’rhun has never been the true victim of his ire, so who is to say for sure what this means? ]

I trust you about as far as I can throw you, my friend.

[ A half-truth. X’rhun knows that he shouldn’t trust a man like Ardyn, but he’s a scar on his torso, the last remnants of a fatal wound, that speaks otherwise. ]

Then you must have the strength of Titan, because I'd like to believe, perhaps in vain, that you trust me much more than you’re letting on.

[Though sincerely, Ardyn knows he has no reason to. That his own demeanor is as unpredictable as his moods, which swing from manageable to darkly hideous from day to day, depending upon circumstance. A pendulum, sometimes not caring what it smashes to pieces during its great arcing swing.

Unmoving from his position, he tilts his head.]

Actually… allow me a graceless transition to another problem that we still need to solve between us. Far more pressing than mere furniture.

[ It’s just as well that Ardyn changes the subject, even blatantly and gracelessly as he does. They’re delving into matters that X’rhun knows better than to explore too deeply, least of all to Ardyn’s face. ]

Oh, and what could possibly be more pressing than interior decorating?

[ He asks, like he doesn’t have an idea of where this conversation could be heading. ]

You know what.

[They both know. It’s too big of an issue to be completely dispelled from either of their thoughts, no matter how they jest and joke and pretend that furniture is the main sticking point between them.]

But if your memory’s already gone foggy in your old age, I can provide a reminder.

No, no, you’re right, there is a rather big behemoth in the room, so it’s just as well we’ve no furniture.

[ Har, har, isn’t he hilarious. He would guess, of course, that this relates to the matter of their little arrangement, as if Ardyn’s joking about the bed did not make it obvious enough. ]

Go on, then.

[It's all the permission he needs, and he barely needs even that.

He could start with a light touch of the wrist, tips of fingers just barely brushing against skin. Or something more forward, more sudden, the grip of his hand around an exposed forearm, or a sudden press of a flattened palm slipped under a shirt — just to be surprising about it.

The latter is considered, but tossed aside in favor of something better. An incomplete kiss, and incomplete only because it catches lazily at the corner of X’rhun’s mouth, teasing and frustrating alike.

(The empathy bond will inform his friend of the same emotions as always: that simmering darkness under the surface, something blazingly bitter and acrid, a hatred that sleeps deep beneath the surface of curious amusement and faux dismissiveness. Ardyn doesn’t attempt to tamp down any of it, for if they’re to experiment, what’s the point in starting off cautiously? Famous last words, at any rate.)]

[ X'rhun would like to think after his first taste of what lurks in the depths of Ardyn's very being, he would be better prepared. However, two millennia of ire, of dark and lonely bitterness and seething hate still wraps tightly round his chest and threatens to squeeze the air from his lungs, even with the flippant veneer painted atop it all.

So there is still a measure of surprise that Ardyn will get in turn, but it is a surface thing, and something that X'rhun pushes past with his trademark stubbornness. He is a Crimson Duelist, the last of his order, and his oath mentions heart as well as steel. If he cannot endure this for the sake of his friend, for the sake of whatever it is they share, then he isn't worthy of the mantle.

Forward, then, into the darkness, and perhaps he will come out stronger for it on the other side. He finds his breath, angles his head and kisses Ardyn in turn – kisses him for real, this time.

By contrast, X'rhun is a man of mountainous determination, built upon a foundation of loss and regret that he has wholly embraced, and for the time being, pays little mind to. And at the heart of it all, the very core of what makes X'rhun Tia who he is, is compassion. He trusts, he believes, he cares, and the feeling is not solely directed at Ardyn. ]

[The bond is nothing more than an exchange of emotion, nothing figurative given life beneath it all. And yet Ardyn can feel the pushback from his friend, born of stubbornness and that oathed steel, allowing his own ire to smother it at all sides while it stands tall in the dark. A beacon, writhed in the brackish shadow that Ardyn provides.

Promising, he thinks, while X’rhun turns to meet the kiss properly. How dogged, comes the vaguely impressed addendum, allowing himself a simmering marvel at how well his friend remains steady as he leans in more deeply. Reaching out with an arm to steady his balance and keep the man enclosed both, hand pressing into the armrest next to the other.

(The Miqo'te's emotions. Determination, loss and regret that’s tied up its loose ends, unlike Ardyn’s — sharp edges left dangling like a guillotine. And that trademark compassion, that endless core of caring, which Ardyn knows exists in droves but chooses not to focus on. To think too deeply on it, even in generality, would be waltzing down a path that he wishes not to follow.)

All said, better than expected at first. But this is a fleeting touch, made prevalent by the way that he breaks away without preamble.]

You’ve not fallen to pieces yet. [Amber eyes search his features.] But how long can those walls hold?

[ Just when he thinks he is getting used to navigating the darkened bramble patch of Ardyn’s emotions, he pulls away. Ardyn’s deepest feelings are not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but their loss surprises him just as much as it had when they invaded his very being.

He flicks his ears as the world as he knows it reasserts itself, and he is left with only himself. ]

You seem quite determined to break me, my friend. Do not be so certain – this would not be the first time you assumed something to be inevitable only to be proven wrong.

Am I the one making assumptions? You’re the one being put under the proverbial sword of my emotions, sticking your neck out and hoping you won’t be beheaded. Taking risks, when you don’t know the strength of my assault.

[He seems to joke, but the metaphor is appropriate. They’ve shared only fleeting touches thus far, and the kiss — though met with admirable resilience — was quick and severed in a few seconds’ time.]

Thousands of years to reflect on the wrongs done to me, strung up in the dark. Having become something other, shreds of humanity left to rot in the years past. Just a small taste.

[Saying it as if it’s nothing, intensely sincere all the same.]

Last chance to change your mind.

And you’re the one withdrawing that blade each and every time, sheathing it away ere it can drop. How am I to steel myself when you will not even let me see in full what I am up against?

[ X’rhun likes to think he would be able to handle it, based on his experiences thus far – but Ardyn is right. He has had but small tastes, but if Ardyn is right, so is X’rhun. The brevity of their encounters has been Ardyn’s doing. Another attempt at delaying the inevitable, perhaps, but X’rhun is the stubborn sort. He’d not abandoned Ardyn before, and he does not wish to do so now. ]

Talk all you like, but it won’t change my mind at all.

[He stalls under the guise of humor, but the reality is that this is the moment of truth — the make or break, the circumstances that will decide whether or not their once-plan of using X’rhun as an outlet, as a release, (as an anchor), would crumble under something as simple as Ardyn’s touch.

But his mannerisms called out, and not wanting to ever be seen as hesitating, he makes no immediate reply. Only allows his smile to go darkly lopsided, and leans forward a second time, slotting his mouth against X’rhun’s, letting stubble scrape against skin. A hand reaches to grip around his wrist, if that instance of touch wasn’t enough.

The empathy bond blooms again, faint blue brimming at their chests. This touch, he will let linger; he’ll press them against X’rhun’s will, let everything unfold like tendrils, like waves and waves, and see how well his friend can abide by it.]

[ Well, what else did he expect? He knows full well that he has taunted this dragon and invited it to come live behind his ribcage, to dig its claws in and breathe its fire upon his heart. X’rhun is no slayer of dragons, but he is not here to fight this thing – he has to welcome it, to be a soft glow in this encroaching darkness, because resistance would surely tear him apart.

He has some small idea of how to navigate Ardyn’s emotions, thanks to their brief contact before, but what unfolds before him is vast and suffocating, like being dragged into the sea by a weight he cannot hope to free himself from. He shuts his eyes against it, against an angry bitterness the likes of which he has never known. There is a very real moment where he wonders if he is truly strong enough to endure this.

I have seen you fight, my friend. It is not my blade that you need.

I look at you and I see a man worth trying to save.

Something sparks, then. An ember of stubborn compassion that lights and pulses in the midst of that swirling dark. There is still a lot to contend with, a lot from Ardyn who has lived hundreds of lifetimes longer than X’rhun has or ever will, but there is air in his lungs again. The dragon can snarl and spew molten flames all it likes, but he can endure. He must endure.

Because someone has to.

He has no idea how long it has been from the moment Ardyn pressed their lips together and curled his fingers around his wrist until now, but he finally moves. He shifts his hand in Ardyn’s grasp, not to pull away but to grip him by the wrist in turn. His ears come up, his eyes open. ]

Well… I’m still here.

Edited 2019-02-28 18:58 (UTC)

[For a moment, he’s sure of it. He could bet the rest of his wretched existence on X’rhun crumbling under the pressure of the thousands of years of balefulness that is him. Tells himself that he should’ve known that it would be too much, enough to smother a man as good and honorable and earnest as his friend, because why wouldn’t it?

That darkness, it’s devoured everything else. His past, his present, defining every moment of every second of his future. All it does is pull everything that it touches apart, atom by atom. Snapping nerve endings until they become numb. This won’t work — despite X’rhun's will, his heart, his immovable intentions. It won’t.

But the man pulls away, not out of disgust or panic, but to make a simple declaration, hand clasping around his wrist, keeping them connected. And in its wake he feels that fire of light, some hope and stubborn altruism, some blind faith, that has kept him moored to the shore, dipping beneath the darkness and still coming up for air.]

You don’t think you’re finished yet, do you?

[Fingers press into skin, eyes skate across the other’s, Ardyn trying to smother the release of something ineffably wound up tight, covering it up with his usual cajoling.]

I imagine I'm not finished until you tell me so. That is the nature of our agreement, is it not?

[ The waves of darkness still batter him, shove him around and threaten to once again drag him beneath, but he is learning how to deal with this current, and if only his head stays above water it is enough for now. He will learn to float properly, in time.

Like a distant lighthouse beacon, his own caring nature still burns in that all-consuming dark. ]

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