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.

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"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.

Raine inhaled, very deliberately, and gave the undergarment the last help it needed to fall away completely, with the lacing undone. Aside from that, however, she paid it very little attention, and instead directed her focus to unfastening the buttons of his vest, fingers light and precise. She did not take quite as much care to avoid actual contact as he had been. "You must be very distracted, then. Very well: you're wearing more clothing than is optimal." She kept her tone light, as well, though it was impossible to avoid the faint coloring on her cheeks. "For showering."

Edited (clothing is fun!) 2014-12-22 11:01 (UTC)

"Oh, I don't know," Solomon murmured, helping the binder along by dragging it down, but still keeping his focus where it had been all this time and avoiding outright contact. "There may not be room in the shower for the both of us. I might get cold if I undressed too early. I should hate to get cold."

He helped the binder over her hips with one last, light tug, but left his fingers at her waist to undo the lacing with the same slow, tugging but avoidant motions he had used to undo the binder. "Of course, I could always scrub your back for you," Solomon added thoughtfully, as though seriously contemplating the purely practical uses of showering together. "One finds it difficult to scrub one's own back properly."

"Far be it from me to impose, of course," Raine said, arch. She shifted, absently, to help his efforts in divesting her of those garments, but her own priorities were still his clothes. She paused when she had his vest undone, her hands lingering there. "But the facilities look adequate for these purposes, and it is true that scrubbing one's own back can be difficult, especially when the ones in question have been sleeping for as long as we have. I'd welcome your assistance, should you choose to brave the cold." Purely a matter of practicality. Really.

One of Solomon's crooked fingers slid under the hem of Raine's trousers and pushed it down until it left her hips and fell off its own accord, very deliberately touching in contrast to the way Solomon had been avoiding it just earlier.

"It's really just as well there's two of us in that case," he said airily, and then took back his hand and stepped away. He shrugged off the vest, and hung it up, and then proceeded to unbutton his shirt and its sleeves at a much brisker and more business-like pace than anything Raine had been achieving. Truthfully, it wasn't cold--Shudder kept the Hotel at a comfortable temperature for any individual. If anything, Solomon was feeling a touch warm, but he knew why that was so and had no intention of letting it hold sway.

Despite all her best intentions, the marked contrast of that solitary contact made Raine's breath catch, audibly, and she stood where she was to watch him for a moment before rousing herself to motion again. "Convenient," she said. "Yes, it is at that." The rest of her own clothing she hung as well, rather than leave piled on the floor, and she went then to start the water, shaking her head a little in resignation as she did so. "How warm do you prefer it?"

If he had not had this result in mind all along, despite those protestations, she'd be very surprised.

"It gets very cold in Ireland," Solomon said deadpan as he bent to take off his shoes and socks, and move onto his belt and trousers. "And in Temples located beneath cemeteries." He glanced over his shoulder to give her an amused but almost wry smile. He wasn't aware of it, but there was a faint edge there too. "As hot as you can stand."

As a cleric he could afford to flout the wearing-of-robes rule, but he still remembered being a lowly acolyte and shivering in his bed at night, and after having spent too long in the Dreaming trapped in that dank cellar ... he'd been lucky not to catch pneumonia after that. He didn't quite remember enjoying such hot baths or showers when he was a boy, but as an adult he could barely stand anything less. Truthfully he'd have liked to turn the water up as hot as he could handle, but as that was near scalding, he declined for Raine's sake.

Indoor plumbing. The one reason Solomon would never go back to those 'golden days' of chivalry.

She glanced back to him when he spoke, long enough to note and wonder about that edge, before nodding and paying attention to the water again. If she applied herself she could guess at the reasons; she was not altogether sure she wanted to. "Half-elves tend to be a little less sensitive to temperatures than most humans," she said, absently testing the temperature before edging it up. "And too much heat is preferable to the alternative." Even at home, she'd prefer Triet's burning heat to the eternal winter of Flanoir. Now, especially, with the dark cold of the ocean still an unpleasant spectre in the back of her mind, even uncomfortable heat would be a blessing.

When the water was hot enough to start shading toward discomfort Raine stopped toying with it, turned back to Solomon and waited, one hand on her hip. "Whenever you're ready," she added.

It was a very pointed statement, pointed enough that it made Solomon laugh quietly as he found a place to put his clothes and turned. Entirely by chance--no, really--he caught himself in the mirror and grimaced, reaching up to tug on the beard that had grown in. His hair was longer than he'd like it, too--though at least its current state hid the slight curl.

"Go ahead," he said with a deliberately idle flap of his hand, going to the cabinet behind the mirror to see whether Shudder also gave out complementary shaving utensils. He did, apparently--though the razor was a straight-blade, which implied someone had simply left it behind or forfeited it some time ago, and Shudder had put it where it would be appreciated. The soap was in a tub instead of a hard bar, though. That made things easier. Solomon eyed himself critically, stirring up a bit of a lather with the brush. "I'm going to get rid of this ... bush first."

Maybe trim his hair while he was at it, if Raine didn't get too impatient with him.

A good thing she'd given up any pretense at being gifted with subtlety. She eyed him thoughtfully, then nodded, somehow doubting she could hurry that, or in fact that any efforts to do so would be successful, if he was intent on testing patience. "...By all means, if it's bothering you that much. Although, if enough of the other Foreigners rush for the showers at once, I wonder how the supply of hot water will handle it." That question made Raine herself pause her train of thought to consider; she didn't know how Anton handled the plumbing, nor whether or not magic was involved.

Shortly Raine shook herself, and shrugged, and turned to step into the shower. An exercise in patience it was, then. She laced her fingers together, stretching her arms out, and appreciated the heat. In a moment tacked on, over her shoulder, "And didn't you say you'd hate to get cold by undressing too early?"

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

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