tushanshu_logs | [EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

[EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

Characters: ALL!
Date: December 8, 2015 (with some starters for the following weeks)
Location: Keeliai, the Midnight Hotel, others
Situation: The Foreigners have awakened.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

They've been in the Dreaming for so long that when they wake up their bodies feel more like automatons, alien and ill-fitting. They haven’t atrophied, thanks to Milyn, but they’re stiff and a little bedsore, and the solidity of the Life Plane is jarring. Here, the surroundings don’t move on a whim. Here the world is more stable, almost harsh and unyielding in spite of the homey surrounds.

It’s been a year, says the clock on the mantle and on the second floor. Says Milyn, too, when she’s able to stop hugging them long enough to speak.

Nothing much has changed in the Midnight Hotel. There are dishes out of place, objects belonging to either Milyn or Eva in evidence, the diorama exactly where it had been but now brightly-painted thanks to Milyn's boredom. Milyn and Eva took a room each, in the time the Foreigners were sleeping, though neither used them much.

Eva’s upstairs, Milyn will tell anyone who asks. In her room.

Eva hasn't left that room in three days. She hasn't spoken in three days, either, or walked, or moved, or breathed. Her effects are neatly arranged around her bed, and the sheet has been pulled up. There is heavy incense in the room and Milyn has managed to preserve the body enough to remove the risk of too much mess (and other things). In a way, that makes it worse: as though Eva is sleeping. It’s difficult to tell whether Milyn is in denial or whether spending three days with no one to talk to other than sleeping Foreigners and a corpse has had its influence.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Raine's blank notice of the jewellery on her wrist prompted Solomon to look properly at his own, and on his off-hand he found a ring he hadn't been wearing before. He preferred to give that more attention, but when Raine spoke he looked up, if reluctantly.

"Yes," he said, and even though they weren't exactly in privacy the Foreigners awake were more interested in eating and washing than eavesdropping. "I think it's plain to see you'd be safer without me."

It was blunt and forthright, as they'd always been, and true to boot--but Solomon was still surprised by the hollow feeling when he said it. Disappointment, he supposed. He'd promised to try, to pursue the potential, but it was neither practical nor gentlemanly to expect a lady to stay with a man who'd killed her twice.

Raine did not so much flinch as she stilled, abruptly and suddenly, all extraneous movement ceased. When she could breathe again she did so, startled as much at herself as at him. Malicant had rubbed old wounds raw, certainly, and leaving someone to demonstrate your care was as far as she was concerned the worst way to go about such things, but she had lived well enough before she met Solomon Wreath and would live after he was out of her life, and there was no call to be reacting like a lovesick teenager.

And yet, there it was. Raine exhaled heavily, closed her eyes for just a moment, shoving away fear in favor of something equally ready: annoyance. "Solomon Wreath," she said, tart, volume escalating a bit, "If you no longer find me suitable as a partner, then by all means say so. However, if you have any regard for me at all, you will do me the courtesy of allowing me my own choices, especially as they pertain to my life. We are, none of us, safe. In the world I was born into alone there are still places where my parentage in itself can be a death sentence; here, we don't have any idea yet what awaits us, nor how dangerous Keeliai may have become in the interim, and I would much rather face the world ahead with you than without."

It was a risk. There would always be a risk, to an extent. But his magic, for now, they knew how to handle, and she still had faith in him.

The only times Raine had shown Solomon anything close to anger had been exasperation at what she felt was a downplay of his injuries. Her ire, sudden and, he would have thought, uncalled-for, came as a surprise that left him blinking, though he recovered a moment later.

"I'm not making your choice for you," he said, more with bemusement than any true defensiveness. "I'm pointing out the obvious. Accepting a world where safety is an illusion is a far cry from putting yourself directly in danger for little gain."

I would much rather face the world ahead with you than without.

Had she truly said that, or had Solomon been imagining it, in some grogginess of having been in the Dreaming for what was evidently quite a while? Surely she couldn't have--well, yes, she could have, but for what reason Solomon couldn't quite understand. Raine was usually such a logical and pragmatic person; and yet abruptly driven to passion when he pointed out a practicality? He was stumped.

His next words came out all the more uncertain for his confusion. "That's twice now I've killed you, Raine. What's here that's worth keeping, in light of that?"

"What's here that's--" Raine bit that off, not least because she wasn't sure what she would say. She breathed carefully, evenly, and there was something a little helpless in the way she looked at him, for a moment utterly lost. How did she even explain this?

Another deep breath, and she started over. "There are a very many things worse than death," she said, low. Her voice was a little rough around the edges. "And each time, you've fixed your mistake. Even when you had nothing in your mind but power, and death, you put me back." That counted for something. It really did. "It's nothing you'd do intentionally, in your right mind, and as far as I'm concerned you're already forgiven. You're worth keeping, Solomon, if I haven't made that clear, so don't you dare--"

Raine cut herself off yet again, aware that she was probably going to finish that sentence with something resembling don't abandon me, please, and showcasing that wound once was enough. She'd explain exactly why she reacted so poorly later. If there was a later.

She hoped there would be a later. "Don't bow to fear and cloak it in my own good," she said at length, a little calmer. "Please."

He'd struck a nerve, Solomon realised a little belatedly, but he couldn't immediately recall to mind what it was--though he felt he ought to know. Whatever it was that Raine wasn't saying, even the unfinished sentence was enough to indicate the importance of it. Regardless, he couldn't bring his mind to bear on that particular puzzle, because he was too busy trying to make sense of her words while staring at her in a sort of bewilderment he'd never felt before.

It wasn't the first time the depths of her compassion had touched him. Possibly he'd have to get used to the feeling, because apparently it was going to keep making attendance no matter how much it refused to make itself understandable. She hadn't explained why he was worth keeping, either, but apparently she felt it strongly enough that Solomon suspected if he tried to argue he'd get beaten over the head with something rather harder than a pillow.

Was it just fear? Solomon wondered, but he didn't think so. He'd killed her. Twice! And she was dismissing it as if he'd done nothing more than torn her favourite shirt!

Solomon had never felt more out of his depth than right now. He'd always been a far cry more popular with women than Skulduggery had been, he seemed to recall--at least women it was worth getting to know--while Skulduggery had been too obstinate about learning emotion to really charm a lady once past the shallow point of acquaintance. True, Skulduggery had been married and Solomon hadn't, but Solomon hadn't wanted to be and he wouldn't have been surprised if Skulduggery had needed help just to get that far. So the feeling was a strange one.

In the end Solomon wordlessly shifted to wrap his arms around her, hesitant because he didn't know yet if it would be welcomed; but he had no words to offer, because he didn't know what to say, and wasn't that just as odd. When he did find some, they felt a bit lame on his tongue, almost a murmur to himself more than anything: "I did promise to pursue the potential."

But at what price, Solomon had to wonder, and without any power to ease it given Raine had just now so forcefully put her foot down.

When Solomon embraced her Raine leaned into him initially without other acknowledgment, but gradually, in stages, the tension went from her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. There were an overabundance of things she wanted to make him understand, from the way caring had an adverse affect on rationality to why, exactly, she'd reacted so strongly, to the variety of reasons she wanted to keep him around, but none of the words she wanted were coming. "Good," she said finally, firm, and held on to him.

It wasn't wholly surprising, she supposed, that she'd confused him. He had warned her his grasp on these dynamics was not particularly strong. Still, there was something very sad about it, that the possibility of someone caring quite so much didn't quite seem to register.

Raine sighed over it, just a little, and fumbled for words again. "Caring for people isn't always a fully wise decision," she said in a moment. "Nor always an intentional one. It compromises judgment, encourages risks, opens you up to hurt. And yet... I've never seen anyone quite so determined as those fighting for the people they love. Nor have I regretted caring, even when it makes the path ahead difficult. It's worth it." Unspoken: that he was worth difficulty as well.

It would have been so much easier to survive in Sylvarant without an infant to look after. But as hard as it had been to keep them both alive, without Genis to persist for Raine was reasonably sure she wouldn't have survived herself. Love was a strange, irrational thing, but much like hope she'd seen how well it could drive the impossible.

Her warmth was unexpectedly comforting. Solomon would never have called himself a tactile man, but it did call to his hazy childhood memory of being hugged and comforted by it, and this sort of closeness held the same kind of feeling. It was as unexpected as everything else had been, if at least more familiar, and after a moment Solomon even dared to pull her closer. If she was going to be obstinate about her safety, even for reasons beyond him, then perhaps that entitled him to a touch of the opposite.

Solomon listened quietly and while it still didn't make all that much sense, it was a damn sight more familiar--but not, he suspected, in the manner she intended.

"My father fought for me and was murdered," he said, a little flatly, "and I wound up on the King's execution list, and only escaped because I was taken in by the Temple." And the Temple had led him to this: his magic bound and useless, unable to compromise or choose, or do anything except murder even those he did care about, even when he didn't want it to.

But in spite of his tone of voice, Solomon didn't pull away.

"You're here," Raine pointed out. "Despite everything." She shifted a little, though only for the sake of comfort, not to separate; she was quite content where she was. Especially as the words she hadn't quite been able to shape earlier were coming to her now, and it was something she hated to bring up on the best of days. Solomon's closeness was a welcome thing, though it was likely better for the moment she couldn't see his face from this angle.

A breath. "My mother," she said, careful and precise, "loved my brother and I so much that she abandoned us both to another world entirely, in the vain hope that we would be safe there. And I hated her for it, for years. I still don't think I'll ever understand it. But the fact remains that for eleven years she fought and fled to ensure we could grow up free, and while it took more than she had to give, I... have learned enough of the woman she was to be sure she would not regret it, if she could see what we have come to."

She did have a point, beyond her own parental trauma. Raine swallowed hard, pressed on. "No parent would," she added, softly. "I know I would not, should it come to that, if I could ensure Genis was safe and well. It's unjust, and cruel, that you lost your father so young. But I can't think he'd regret loving you, no matter that it meant he laid down his life for you. Despite everything that's happened since, you've lived. You are here, and as well as can be, and free of both King and Temple. A long road, perhaps. Certainly not an entirely pleasant one. But for all that, do you regret having loved him?"

"No," Solomon admitted, because to deny it would be foolish when Malicant had flaunted his mocking of that care all over the network for everyone to see. "I only wish he'd loved me a little less. Maybe then he'd have survived." If he hadn't been so intent on giving something to Solomon worth having, if he hadn't felt the need to be such a role-model by refusing to bend his principles, he might have lived.

Solomon couldn't say he didn't understand the decision Raine's mother had made, though he was wise enough not to say so. Then again, he had refused, over and over, to sire a child for the Temple out of nothing but an unwillingness to let his child be raised unknowing of its parents.

Or for other reasons, ones Solomon was dimly aware might be there without bothering to look too closely as to what they were. But he didn't feel free, whatever Raine said about it; he was chained, damn it, bound by the bracelets on his wrists. Not free at all.

"Maybe he would have," Raine agreed. Impossible to say for sure, but perhaps. "But then, would he have been entirely himself?" She doubted that, even knowing his fate, Aílbe would have loved his son less-- but that was not something she could argue in certainty, nor would she trespass much farther on that memory. In the same way she was glad he had not said much in response to her mention of her own mother; she had wanted him to know, to have that understanding, but really would rather not discuss it in detail.

She fell silent instead of pushing on, listening for the beat of Solomon's heart, the steady reassurance that they were both here, both living. Both as safe as could reasonably be expected.

To that, Solomon had no answer. The truth was, after four hundred years of memory, there were many things about Da that had faded in Solomon's mind. The things he kept close, he knew, were even still bits and pieces, but they were all he had to remember. The vision in the Dreaming that Malicant had contrived had been the clearest vision Solomon had had in centuries.

For a little while they sat like that, Solomon staring toward the wall, but it was only so long before he came aware of the fact that the Hotel commons were not exactly fresh. That, and his face was itching, and when he brought a hand to his cheek he felt bristles under his fingers.

Well, that was just ... uncouth. Da had worn a beard, but it had always been neatly clipped. Solomon didn't care for it much himself, particularly not one of the length this one appeared to be. He glanced sidelong toward the other Foreigners. If they went upstairs there ought to be a free shower. Twenty-three rooms, and public facilities downstairs--plenty for the handful of Foreigners who remained.

"I realise this comes close to insulting a lady's decorum," he said with something more approaching is usual dryness, "but I rather think a shower is in order."

There was peace in it, simply being there with him, no matter the uncertainty, and if she was honest Raine had been wanting to hold him for some time, at least since they'd met in the Dreaming. Impractical then, impractical later, and now she was a little loath to let him go, but...

He did have a point. It had been quite a while, after all, and proper cleanliness would be welcome. Not to mention the chance to scrub the last of the dream of salt water from her skin. "I take no offense," Raine said, lightly, and with some reluctance began to disentangle herself in preparation for coercing stiff limbs into doing her bidding. "I had wondered what you planned to do about that beard." They had all experienced growth while they slept, apparently -- her hair was to the length where it would begin to become annoying.

"I had been planning to shave every last inch of it," Solomon said, letting her go and pulling back, and rubbing his face ruefully. But then he cocked an eyebrow at her, and a corner of his mouth pulled up, a mischief almost lost in the beard. "Unless, of course, you have some sort of preference to make known?"

It was a tease. Even if Raine had liked beards, Solomon would have put down his foot. Unkempt, hard to clean, scruffy--no, thank you.

Instead he rose, stretching and rubbing some heat into his sorest muscles, and then reached down a hand to help her to her feet.

"You'll find no objection here." She did briefly consider the beard, noting that while untamed growth did no one any favors, if it was properly tamed the look of it might work for him. Perhaps.

The hand up she accepted with a nod of thanks, and she winced when she was fully vertical, almost overbalanced. Her muscles were protesting loudly, and there was a faint ache in her joints like exhaustion-- annoying, considering she had just spent a very long time asleep. It would ease, at least, stiffness was already fading. Raine stretched carefully, one bit at a time, till she was sure her legs would hold properly. "A hot shower," she decided, half muttering to herself. Long, and hot. The rest of Keeliai could wait a little time.

"There are some public showers downstairs," Solomon said, glancing toward the door, "but I suspect that they will soon be forming lines. We would be better served finding one upstairs." His tone was innocent, but the use of the words 'we' plus 'one' did indicate something very specific.

Well, potentially specific, anyway. While Solomon would admit to a lack of understanding regarding a great many things, he was very good at distraction and very good at returning to some element of status quo until the rest could be figured out. And there was no better status quo--for him--than one which included a little game.

Raine processed the generalities before the specific phrasing, and "That's a good thought," escaped her mouth before she had the chance to examine that combination of 'we' and 'one' a little more closely. She did in a moment, however, blinked, and looked at Solomon thoughtfully, the hint of a smile about her.

Well, if he was teasing, she was a bit more sure they were back on something like solid ground, and if it had been a chance assemblage of words then that she'd find out soon enough, but besides that she found she was still a little reluctant to let him fully out of her sight yet. Raine nodded decisively, when that deliberation had caught up. "Upstairs, then," she said.

Excellent, the trap was laid. Solomon was sure that Shudder wouldn't mind their using the private facilities given the circumstances, so he smiled blandly and picked up his small bag of things and offered her his arm, and led her upstairs. The second storey--to put a little more distance between them and the rest of the of the Foreigners, and not as much chance they'd be interrupted.

Most of the rooms had been unused before they went under the shell, so it wasn't difficult to find one that was pristine as if waiting for a tenant. Solomon checked the bathroom. "Shudder offers complimentary bath-soaps and washes, it seems," he said, and held out his arm to usher her in first. As he said, the bathroom was fully stocked--towels, soaps, hair-washes and all. If nothing else, Shudder was an excellent host.

She had nothing to collect herself -- her jacket had deep pockets, and years of living on the road made the essentials easy to pare down to -- so all that was left to do was to take Solomon's arm, and walk with him.

Though Ryder frequented the Hotel often, Raine was less commonly there, and never had cause to go upstairs. Now she followed Solomon's lead, her thoughts split in equal measures between what could have happened in their extended absence and what exactly Solomon was up to here. Neither question had many answers to be found simply in her own mind, and she gave up entirely on inward contemplation by the time he had done checking over the bathroom.

"Fortunate," she said aloud, "as I doubt anyone will have thought to bring those things with them." That was a little dry, acknowledging that no one could have expected this. Raine followed his gesture inside, glanced around briefly, and unfastened her jacket, shrugging out of it. It did not seem to have kept the telling bloodstains, for which she was grateful. The next question, she supposed, was what Solomon planned to do, and that he'd answer soon enough.

Solomon had few plans whatsoever, save one. He was gratified to open the closet and find off-the-rack bathrobes, however; while Solomon had brought down a change of clothes in the event they were under the shell for more than two or three days, apparently Raine hadn't, and therefore may need something else to wear in lieu of her clothes now until they had been cleaned.

Well, unless she planned to stay a few hours in the room waiting for her clothes to be cleaned, but if so she would have to do so alone; Solomon was a controlled man but there was only so much restraint he had before he had to quit the field of such a tease, even one he made himself.

"Quite," he said dryly, hanging one of the dressing-gowns on the inside of the bathroom door for her use. "Let it not be said, whatever else he is, that Shudder is a bad host." Solomon turned and took her jacket from behind, his fingers resting on her shoulders--quite near her neck--just a touch longer than necessary to help her out of said jacket and hang that up t0o. His expression, while visible in the mirror, was nothing more than studied innocence, even as he turned and kneeled to tap her shoes. "Allow me."

Mention of Anton just brought up thoughts of Ryder again, surely safe but too distant to tell anything more. Safe. Nothing useful to be done with worry. Raine focused instead on that lingering touch on her shoulders, on Solomon, in the here and now. On that studied innocence that was more than likely anything but, knowing his teasing habits.

Even so, she looked down at him and had, for a moment, no idea what to make of the gesture. "I... certainly," she said, blinking, the hesitation born of temporary confusion rather than any actual reticence. Residual stiffness in her muscles aside, she could still handle her own boots. But then, her jacket she might have managed herself, too. Ah. Yes. Raine shifted her weight, leaned against the nearest hard surface to balance herself, in order to allow that which he was evidently requesting.

Solomon only smiled extra-innocently up at her bemusement, but the moment he had permission he went about removing her boots. It would have been a business-like action, except he kneaded her calves as he did so; and even that might have been business-like--if more intimate than she might have been anticipating--except that the tips of his fingers lingered just a touch longer than necessary.

He set the boots aside and smiled up at her again, his eyes gleaming with laughter and that innocence still very much in attendance. "Shall I help you with your belt and tunic also?"

Raine found her mouth had gone dry, and with a little effort she swallowed, finding her words again. "I haven't lost quite that much dexterity while we slept," she said, lightly, a corner of her mouth turned up. She visibly considered the offer, though, and, teasing words aside, nodded in a moment. "But I'd welcome your... assistance, so long as something is also done about the rising inequality." She reached a hand toward him, half a question in the gesture, not quite touching yet.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you might mean," Solomon said blandly, a complete lie belied by ... everything in his countenance, really. Holding her gaze, Solomon rose and shifted forward just enough to keep only an inch of space between them. He kept holding her gaze while he unbuckled her belt and withdrew it, and stepped back, and hung it with a smile on one of the pegs. Never once had he actually touched her while he did so, even through her clothes, in spite of the closeness.

She held very still. On one level, Raine had to admire his precision, in coming that close and never making actual contact. On another level entirely, Solomon was going to test her patience to destruction one day very soon.

Likely his intent, she admitted to herself, and consciously evened her breaths. "No idea whatsoever?" she asked, still light, still tracking his movements intently. "That's a pity." Another moment, to consider her options, and with the smallest of shrugs Raine half-turned, and pulled her tunic over her head in one neat motion. The movement was all brisk, businesslike, but when she went to hang that as well she brushed rather closer by Solomon than necessity would dictate. "I trust your powers of observation may now grasp some of what I mean," she added, and reached toward him again, with rather more intent than question this time. If he was staying, the clothes were not.

Well, it was one way to foil his game, Solomon thought with amusement. Fortunately, two could play at that game, though unfortunately it would take him too long to unbutton his own shirt and he had no intention of giving Raine any ground. ... So to speak.

"My powers of observation are being somewhat taxed, currently," Solomon said lightly instead, even though his gaze was still on her face and hadn't so much as flickered downward. Even still he found one end of the cord that laced up the front of her chest-binding and with one long, slow pull undid the neat bow, and then unlaced each stitch, one-by-one, with one finger that never quite brushed Raine's skin. "You might have to explain it to me," he said, but this time his voice was lower, and his gaze was still on Raine's face.

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cw for rest of thread: mild foreplay w/ otherwise non-sexual nudity

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