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

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?"

"I'm sure Shudder's spellwork can handle the tax," Solomon said dryly and without any indication of being aware, let alone discomforted, by Raine's regard. Although they were making light, the beard did, in fact, bother him that much--he'd have gotten rid of it first even if he hadn't been trying Raine's patience to begin with. "I'll simply have to settle for the steam."

Truthfully, it was just as well he was a little chilly for the moment. He didn't like it, but it was just as well, as well as giving himself a few moments in-between rounds of teasing. He wasn't exactly showing anything particularly libidinous yet, but that could change if he wasn't careful and it would give Raine a more direct means of taking control of the situation. That certainly wouldn't do for Solomon's plans.

This was all particularly since he had a fairly good view of her in the mirror, and could observe while shaving without ogling in an ungentlemanly fashion. In spite of the pleasant view, the thing that drew his attention was the scar on the left side of Raine's chest, still pink and new enough that Solomon guessed it hadn't been there before they went under the shell. If that was the case, then chances were it had appeared while they were sleeping ... had Raine repaired it herself, or had Milyn done it? A question to ask, perhaps.

It was oddly soothing to shave with a straight razor after quite some time, requiring a kind of precision Solomon had always appreciated but which had very little place in the modern world. So he didn't hurry, but in time was able to put the razor down and wash his face. That was much better than before, he thought, though his hair would have to wait until it was washed. Finally he went to the shower and knocked on the partition. "Need some help?"

Edited 2014-12-23 09:22 (UTC)

For her part, Raine was reasonably sure of the angle the mirror offered, and steadfastly ignored the likelihood of observation. In any case, the act of shaving surely required more attention than permitted by divided focus, and so she paid the probability little heed, let her thoughts drift somewhere else entirely as she went about washing her hair. It had grown longer than she'd like, to the point where it would practically need to be pulled back, and that was somewhat of an annoyance. To deal with later, she supposed.

Instead she contemplated Solomon, and their return to something like the status quo, and what the city and the time ahead might hold for them, and her gaze had grown somewhat distant with her thoughts, her movements slower, by the time Solomon approached. She didn't quite startle when he knocked, but blinked, and re-focused. One thing at a time; this was enough. "Yes," she said, with a smile, and stepped back to give him room, tilting her head in invitation. "Yes, I'd appreciate that."

Solomon returned that smile and took advantage of that offered space to step in and draw the door closed, and stepped into the water with a little groan. He'd been stiff from so long sleeping, but hadn't quite realised how much until the hot water hit him--let alone the grime. It was hotter than he'd expected, though not quite as much as he would have liked--but enough.

"Allow me," he murmured, touching Raine's shoulders with the tips of his fingers and turning them so he stood between her and the spray, and it pounded on the tensest parts of his back. Oh, that was divine. With that same light touch he turned Raine to face away from him, trailing his fingers up the back of her neck to massage the lather in her hair himself, using long and slow motions, but avoiding contact with anything other than her head. He hummed with innocent idleness. "How's that?'

Patience, Raine reminded herself, and was briefly grateful she was facing away from Solomon, because some of the lack thereof would surely show in her face. His general sparingness with touch, especially most recently, meant every contact he did make felt magnified. She exhaled, a pleased little sigh, and dropped her arms. "Pleasant," she returned eventually, tipping her head slightly back, eyes half-closed. He blocked the majority of the water, but the heat in the air lingered, and she couldn't quite bring herself to care. "And helpful. Will you need assistance in turn?"

They really, Solomon thought with something like wry bitterness, need to find a word other than 'pleasant' for moments like these. He hadn't missed that Skulduggery hadn't been present downstairs. It hadn't escaped him that that meant Skulduggery had left, and had not even said goodbye. He would rather not think about it at all, right now.

Raine had lathered her hair fairly well already, so in truth the action on Solomon's part was almost as much a pretext just to tease. Even when her posture drooped along with the tip of her head, Solomon held himself just enough back to maintain some space. "Oh, I don't believe so," he said airily, taking a step back and tugging her gently with him so the spray moved over his shoulder onto her hair, and let him rinse it out with long, smooth strokes. It was admittedly with some faint regret--it moved the pressure of the water off his back. "My hair is far from this length. I should be able to handle it myself."

When she judged her hair was likely sufficiently rinsed, Raine twisted a little to glance up at him, trying to gauge exactly how much of that was simple teasing. "Very well," she said momentarily, and stepped a little away, reaching to retrieve and hand to him the soap he'd need. She made no move to turn away from him again, however, rather stood where she was, collected her hair over one shoulder. Absently she gauged the length again -- ridiculous -- but her attention was for the most part on Solomon. "Don't let me get in your way."

Raine was nothing if not a fast learner. A corner of Solomon's mouth kept tugging with an approving and pleased smile as he turned to duck his head under the water, smoothing it back off his forehead, enjoying the hot water down his face and shoulders and very deliberately lingering in the motion. If Raine was going to watch, he may as well give her time to do so.

His hair was down to his shoulders, Solomon noted absently. Definitely in need of a cut. He could do so himself, though it would look a little ragged after--maybe Raine had a better hand with the scissors.

Once Solomon had lathered his hands with the hair-wash he reached up to run the soap through his hair, but the muscles down either side of his upper spine twinged and his breath caught with a startled grunt. He had to lower his hands carefully to keep those muscles from cramping further--right behind his lungs as they were, it made him short of breath. And he couldn't even reach that particular area of his back, either, so he massaged his side instead, with not a little bit of exasperation.

He'd been carrying more tension than he thought, and the stiffness of a year abed surely hadn't helped ease it off. That was annoying.

As much as it was, usually, her tactic to let the stubborn refusing help run right into their own physical limitations if necessary, Raine hadn't actually expected that to be the case here. Nor, she thought, had Solomon, going by the suddenness of that muscle spasm. Almost instantly her mind snapped from simple appreciation of form to diagnosis and healing. "Honestly," she said, her tone not unkind but fondly exasperated, and stepped toward him, rested one hand gently flat between his shoulder blades to get a feel for what, exactly, those muscles were doing.

She hadn't noticed any previous difficulties in his movements, and his own reaction read more of annoyance than any severer pain. Muscle cramps related to built-up tension and too long asleep in the same position seemed most likely. "None of your injuries from the Dreaming lingered, correct?" Raine asked aloud anyway, just to be sure she hadn't missed something. And, just a little more quietly, "Let me help."

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

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