System Glitch: In The City: Ship Ahoy! [location: Osten]

[theextras]

The day of July fourth was spent dealing with annoying, static-ridden transmissions from the tablets. Hisses, bleeps, pops, and occasionally what might have been an indistinguishable voice saying something unintelligible. The interruptions ceased in the evening, and the city went back to being quiet and empty.

The fifth brought more of the same, but shortly after noon something curious happened: if one consulted the map, they'd note a dot out in the ocean. Zooming in on the dot showed that it was not one but many dots, each with a familiar name attached, and observation would show that the dots were headed toward a never-before-used ferry terminal on the Osten waterfront.

Go meet your people, Taxon, and send them to get showers post haste!


ooc: The ferry terminal is a proper building so our vampires aren't in danger of going foom.

And that's that! Thanks everyone, this plot's been ridiculous fun, now back to your regularly scheduled hijinks.

Comments

[Wyatt's place] <3~

[hasaheart]

"Fuck if I know," retorts Wyatt, getting out a fluffy towel from the linen closet, hangs it on aforementioned towel rack. They're just not gonna talk about anything of the sort right now. It's not Paul's problem, if Wyatt coped or how (though Paul might disagree), but more importantly it isn't relevant right here and now.

There's aloe in the water, there's a wash cloth within easy reach, and a choice of soap or shower gel. All bases covered: just the rest left to see to. Paul's clothes, and the green tea - or maybe lettuce, he thinks that might work too - hatching him some new clothes or just rifling through his own drawers, find him a soft, worn t-shirt or something. Yeah, that'll do. Something cotton, breathable and loose fitting.

He crouches down beside the tub, leaning his arms on the edge of it, chin on the back of his hand. "Black, huh. Then drain it and draw a new one. See if I care."

Left hand slinks into the water, trailing carefully up the center of Paul's torso. Just touching, as much to reassure himself that he isn't dreaming, and Paul that he's not going anywhere. At least his chest isn't too badly affected, meaning he doesn't feel like a bastard for needing tactile feedback.

"More vodka? Smokes?"

[Wyatt's place]

[smecker]

Paul manages to get down into the water. Oh-kay. Adjusting. Groovy.

He leans his head back against the tile wall, eyes shutting half-way. A tired, amused half-smile plays over his chapped lips at Wyatt's Fuck if I know, see if I care...

To Paul it reads as if Wyatt's trying to navigate The Minefield of Paul Smecker again. Having learned excessive caring gets tennis balls thwocked against a floor, Wyatt's attempting to see how the other direction works for him, maybe? But the fingers on his chest, careful, tender, sort of give the lie to it.

Paul raises a hand from the tub, touches his fingertips briefly to the back of Wyatt's hand-- just in passing, gone the next second-- and then back into the water. He closes his eyes.

"No. Thanks. Just going to sit here and let aloe-y goodness leach into my skin."

[Wyatt's place]

[hasaheart]

If Wyatt never hears one hundred and one thwacks accompanying Chopin ever again, he'll very likely die a happy man.

Testing waters. Yeah, that's just about it. And if he's real damn honest with himself, sunburn just doesn't compare to a GSW. He knows it isn't, rationally speaking. Only problem with that is he's having a hard time staying on the rational side of things.

Truth of the matter is, he's been on the verge of breaking for a little too long, and he's ready to crash.

"Okay." He nods, bottom lip folding inwards behind a small grin. "Just gimme a holler if you want anything."

[Wyatt's place]

[smecker]

"Will do," Paul murmurs, slouching down a little further in the tub, laying his head back carefully against the porcelain edge of the tub. "My very own dutiful cabana boy, hm. There's worse things...

"Good to be back." Good to be back with you.

[Wyatt's place]

[hasaheart]

Slowly, he lifts his hand out of the water, running it gently up the side of Paul's neck and very carefully avoiding the comparatively pale twin scars (he knows all about scars that you can or can't touch, and he's particular about obliging unspoken rules like that).

His thumb brushes Paul's uncharacteristically stubbled cheek, eyes moving over his face for a moment. Then he leans in, might even be taking liberties here but he can't be damned, pressing his lips to the cheek opposite.

There are so many things he could say right now. But there's only one thing he really wants to.

"You'd better start abusing lip balm or something so I can give you a proper welcome." Good to have you back.

[Wyatt's place]

[smecker]

He doesn't object to the kiss, doesn't pull away.

"Had I better, then?" Paul says with a throaty, tired chuckle. "Why don't you hatch some for me? Cabana boy."

[Wyatt's place]

[hasaheart]

"Right away, Sir," he murmurs over the tickle of stubble, indulging in the smell and feel just a little tiny bit longer. Then leaning back he gives a salute that's not very neat at all, hand sliding up and off as he pushes off the floor.

"Moment you're done, I'll have the aloe vera ready. Anything else you want, just say the word."

He moves away, not wanting to hover like some manner of bird around a rare flower, glancing over his shoulder before disappearing behind the door jamb.

Stuff to hatch, things to sort, maybe breathe for a while in the kitchen where Paul can't hear. Yeah, that sounds just about right.

[Wyatt's place]

[smecker]

"I may have to get sunburnt more often if you get this obedient," Paul smartasses as Wyatt slips out the door.

He exhales when he's gone, maybe a little nebulous relief. Maybe they're finding some sort of balance.

For now he's just going to sit in the water and relish such inventions as air conditioning, as plumbing. Let himself hear the distant noises of Wyatt moving elsewhere in the house.

Be as content as he can remember being.