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

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."

The touch of her hand shouldn't have been a surprise but it was, in the sense that even that light pressure made those muscles cramp again. It took a moment before Solomon could answer, and even then his back settled only uneasily under her touch with a dozen little twitches.

"No, they didn't," he confirmed. It was fortunate, given then internal injuries he'd suffered against Malicant. He smiled wryly. "It seems I have little choice, since the shower's heat hasn't helped." Maybe if he'd stood under the direct beat of the water for longer, but that wouldn't have been much fun for either of them after a time.

Solomon braced himself against the wall with one arm and dropped the other to a rest-position, loosening the side of his back under Raine's hand. Standing up was far from the optimal position for this sort of thing, but all he needed was to be able to lift his hands over his head long enough to wash his hair. Surely that wouldn't take much.

No chance she'd be able to actually heal him the way she normally would, then; this was Solomon's own body knotting itself up, nothing more. Raine frowned at the spasms under her fingers, and shook her head. That was an uncommon level of sensitivity. "There's always a choice," she said absently, thinking over the problem briefly. Simple massage it was going to have to be. "However, the other option is often to suffer in silence, which I'd prefer you didn't. Let me know if I press too firmly."

She did spare some focus to call mana to her hands, not from the world around but within herself. The resulting glow was barely visible, but when Raine spread her hands lightly across his back there was an uncommon warmth to them, and her hope was that the vital energy in its purer form would help soothe the cramped muscles. She half-closed her eyes, to feel rather than look, and applied pressure gently at first, massaging along where the muscles were tightest.

Solomon grunted a little at the first pressure, startling as it was, even though it shouldn't have been; but a moment later it was enough to at least smooth the twitches, if not the tension. "I don't think it's possible for you to do otherwise, currently," he admitted with a thread of corresponding tension in his voice. "But that's no fault of yours."

He couldn't see what she was doing, but her fingers felt uncommonly warm, and that was soothing. Solomon rested his forehead against his arm and forced himself to relax further, though it wasn't long before he didn't have to force himself at all even with the tension still in attendance. He murmured, "I didn't realise massage therapy was a part of a healer's casual education."

Raine did know sometimes pain was a necessary part of healing, but even so she'd rather not cause it to the people she cared for, when possible. Still he seemed to be easing a bit, and that was promising. She kept at the massage, risking more pressure where she thought it might help.

"It's not, usually," she said in response. "It's typically more something for doctors. I'm no expert, either; I've simply picked up what I can, along the way. It's been useful before." A combination of anatomical knowledge, brief begged lessons here and there, and practice with people who trained till they could barely move and expected to still be functional the next day. A pause, and Raine asked, "Has this been a problem before, or was it wholly brought on by our unexpected nap?"

"No more than can be averted by a hot bath," Solomon said. Though warrior-type sorcerers tended to disdain necromancers as being something close to conventional wizards because their magic required less strenuous training than other forms of magic, that perception overlooked the fact that the use of necromancy in a battle was still akin to an art or a dance.

Of course, Solomon was also one of the few who habitually used it to fight. For most necromancers, it was an excuse to not. Either way, it did mean Solomon had a tendency to need soothing hot baths on a more regular basis than most ... that and he enjoyed flouting that ridiculous rule about self-denial.

"You've picked it up well," Solomon added after a moment, raising his hand gingerly above his head so Raine would be able to feel where the muscle still caught, and then lowering it again when his back still twinged. Less than it had, much less, but it was still tender and Solomon wasn't inclined to suggest that Raine stop just yet.

"Good," Raine said, still a little absent, thoughts on touch rather than words. Much better that he could and did take care of himself, and that this was nothing approaching a common occurrence. "With proper care, hopefully this level of tension won't recur." And if it did she would make an effort to help, again, but the goal after all was to prevent the necessity.

She would not be wholly surprised if that tension had something to do with his magic, as well, but whatever the cause, the long dream had only exacerbated it. "There," she said when he moved, following the motion to the muscle that was yet giving problems, and kneaded carefully at that point, focused. Realized, belatedly, that there had been a compliment, as well. "...Thank you. I see you're recovering some range of motion, at least." And it was a visible difference; she was managing to help, unlike how she'd barely been able to help anyone at all in the Dreaming. Thank goodness.

"And yet now I find I've no need of it," Solomon answered blandly, meaning, of course, his range of motion. It was all but a blatant lie. He could think of any number of things he could do with a recovered range of motion. It was almost a pity he had already drawn a mental limit ... ah, well. Anticipation was its own reward.

He shifted to switch arms, partly to rest the one on which he'd been leaning but also to make it easier for Raine to massage those related muscles too. A little sooner than Raine intended, perhaps--certainly there would have been nothing wrong with giving his back more attention than Solomon was allowing--but Solomon was beginning to feel overly warm, and not entirely because of the heat of the shower. That was something he'd have to put a stop to fairly soonish.

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