[thank god i can let my meta out in here because WHEW. whew. he's repressing everything so fucking hard to seem halfway normal to everyone else, but he's just-- everything is a mess. his temper is still bad, especially with owner...
...fuck. owner.
gregor can only keep the impulses and urges stifled for so long. he didn't go all out with charles, but in the basic combat simulation he's running through right now... he fights viciously. as he speaks, he doesn't face io, he just drives his claw through a target and rips it back out in a motion too practiced not to be second nature.]
[ i forgot you can actually vent out the meta in here while icly i remind super blissfully unaware. ahaaaaa cries. for a long moment he watches this, the way that he moves so ruthlessly, the instant thrust and gut. god. ]
Don't wear yourself out before tomorrow.
[ he folds his arms loosely, stepping in a bit closer now. ]
I just-- messaged you before I could think better of it, I guess. Not great with the, uh, impulse control right now. Don't know if I'm gonna be good company or anything.
[he's continuing to fight the entire time they speak, for the record.]
[ thankfully he doesn't expect good conversation out of anyone the night after a jump. so instead he's going to actually put a hand on his back just... ]
Take a break for a minute. I'll leave you alone after.
It's fine... everyone's on edge tonight... I get it.
[ he takes a moment, in among the combat scenario gregor has gone and put himself in and with a breath, the room unfurls. not like a flower, but like fresh grass taking root. the room dominos into dry grasses and cool air, not quite autumn, but nearly time. the cusp. he opens them and then gestures with a hand. ]
[ if there is rust on this hand he doesn't seem to flinch despite it, jaw set. in fact, he doesn't discourage it, just lets their hands fit together, and begins to walk. he gazes outwards toward the horizon, takes them through the grass' soft rustling. he takes a slow and easy breath, squeezing his hand and continue to walk with him until finally he just.
pauses. the sun is high here, but the clouds shelter it somewhat. he just looks back at him and then... drops down into the grass. still attached to him by the hand and tugging him down to sit. ]
Wouldn't have brought you here if I wasn't. Get in the dirt, it's not real anyways.
[ yeah come touch grass. repression sure is... a thing, but touch some grass... he waits for him before gazing upwards, flopping onto his back with a hand folded over his chest.
in among the strands of grass, odder still, strange stalks of plants that buzz softly like a whisper—red clusters at their tips, brown pinwheels on others.
something moves beneath the ground like a heartbeat. lulling. warm. steps, not footsteps, but heavy plodding, resounds with care somewhere nearby. ]
I come here when I feel like I've lost myself somehow—anger, grief, beyond that. The earth sometimes takes the heaviness of it for me. Sometimes, the brain needs to be told that it can be still for a moment. Doesn't have to run, doesn't have to fight...
Yeah... I know. When you spend most of your life fighting already, feels like it's all you have, doesn't it?
[ gazing upwards before closing his eyes. he just breathes in deeply, and then breathes out again, shifting to adjust his arm so there's somewhere to slot into. you may have this... albeit he seems awkward because what's this. ]
We get by because our lives say that we have to.
[ the little bell gets a touch closer, soft and gentle. plodding footsteps. a heavy weight just dropping down behind them. it's just. a bull, big and black and just laying its head down now gently to rest behind them. hi. ]
[ shifting a little, just. dragging gregor with him to just. use this bull as a pillow comfortably. he would like a place to rest his head too. the bull just lows a little and settles back down, the bell clinking. ]
Noukher... It's a name that means "partner"... in hopes that someday he would speak to me when the time was right.
Partner... friend... We have a lot of words for that.
[ lets him rest on his shoulder and just kind of pats his arm gently, doesn't matter which one. gazing upwards, but glances at where he can see little antennae wiggling. hey there. holds out finger. ]
I warned you, I'm terrible with names. And I did suggest "Buddy" afterward, so.
[ OH! oh. well. io doesn't mind that. just gently raises a very rusty hand to place a couple of fingers over the pocket. ]
Come now, not a traitor. Bud is just saying hello. Khayratay inagni... [ deliberatly pushing past the translation software ] Good to see you. Thank you...
[ just rests hand on the arm over him now. simulation noukher just kind of turns his head a little and curls some more around gregor from where he is leaned on his side, huffing into his shoulder. his horns are not too big, he is a very good bull. ]
this is-- comfortable, though. easy. his head is still off balance, but he's managing to quiet it somewhat, distract himself and his thoughts away from where they keep turning.
the problem is they turn elsewhere instead, and he's suffering a lack of impulse control.
so after resting here for a minute or five, he's just... shifting to lean up, reaching up to turn io's face toward him, and kissing him again.
he did say it wasn't affection week, and he did believe him, okay? he just isn't used to this sort of thing, having his face turned and met. so it takes him a moment to attempt some sort of reciprocation. his brow furrows, but he does...
cautiously press back this time. it seems hesitant and uncertain, but present, and there in the moment, because that is what matters in this instant. when he pulls away, it's just to look him in the eyes. ]
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[thank god i can let my meta out in here because WHEW. whew. he's repressing everything so fucking hard to seem halfway normal to everyone else, but he's just-- everything is a mess. his temper is still bad, especially with owner...
...fuck. owner.
gregor can only keep the impulses and urges stifled for so long. he didn't go all out with charles, but in the basic combat simulation he's running through right now... he fights viciously. as he speaks, he doesn't face io, he just drives his claw through a target and rips it back out in a motion too practiced not to be second nature.]
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Don't wear yourself out before tomorrow.
[ he folds his arms loosely, stepping in a bit closer now. ]
How long have you been at this?
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[more than a little. he needs to exhaust himself. he has to get it out, he needs to or he's afraid he's going to-
he doesn't know what.]
If I wear myself out, I'll just sleep better for it.
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[ opening his i.r.i.s. briefly and then closing it again with a tired expression. ]
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[he's continuing to fight the entire time they speak, for the record.]
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Take a break for a minute. I'll leave you alone after.
[ he won't! ]
Let me at least... see if I can help a little.
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[he snaps that out, then once he has... he deflates, slightly, reaching up to rub at his face. he's a mess, he's fucked, he's--]
...fine. Fine, okay.
Sorry.
[it's for more than snapping at him, but he can't, he can't, he can't.]
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It's fine... everyone's on edge tonight... I get it.
[ he takes a moment, in among the combat scenario gregor has gone and put himself in and with a breath, the room unfurls. not like a flower, but like fresh grass taking root. the room dominos into dry grasses and cool air, not quite autumn, but nearly time. the cusp. he opens them and then gestures with a hand. ]
Come on. Walk with me.
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gregor takes a breath in, slow, lets it out just as slowly. walk with me.]
...said that I would, didn't I?
[so-- here he is. he joins io, reaches out to take that hand without thinking about the possible rust.]
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pauses. the sun is high here, but the clouds shelter it somewhat. he just looks back at him and then... drops down into the grass. still attached to him by the hand and tugging him down to sit. ]
Here. Sit... no, lay down.
[ in the distance, the soft sound of a bell. ]
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[but gregor follows, doing his best to quiet his mind. to stifle it all despite how hard it is to repress.
he's good at that, though, isn't he?
after a pause, he lets io pull him down, lying in the grass.]
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[ yeah come touch grass. repression sure is... a thing, but touch some grass... he waits for him before gazing upwards, flopping onto his back with a hand folded over his chest.
in among the strands of grass, odder still, strange stalks of plants that buzz softly like a whisper—red clusters at their tips, brown pinwheels on others.
something moves beneath the ground like a heartbeat. lulling. warm. steps, not footsteps, but heavy plodding, resounds with care somewhere nearby. ]
I come here when I feel like I've lost myself somehow—anger, grief, beyond that. The earth sometimes takes the heaviness of it for me. Sometimes, the brain needs to be told that it can be still for a moment. Doesn't have to run, doesn't have to fight...
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none of it goes away, but it helps.]
Hard to manage that, sometimes.
[looks at the effect he has today and sighs
he shifts, turns to just-- drape an arm across io. he's warm, solid, steady; something to hold to.]
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[ gazing upwards before closing his eyes. he just breathes in deeply, and then breathes out again, shifting to adjust his arm so there's somewhere to slot into. you may have this... albeit he seems awkward because what's this. ]
We get by because our lives say that we have to.
[ the little bell gets a touch closer, soft and gentle. plodding footsteps. a heavy weight just dropping down behind them. it's just. a bull, big and black and just laying its head down now gently to rest behind them. hi. ]
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[he goes quiet again, briefly, settling in and making himself comfortable, careful of the rust. no skin contact.
though his head does tip back when the bull settles behind them, so that he can get a look. hello big cow.]
-this your friend, Io?
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Noukher... It's a name that means "partner"... in hopes that someday he would speak to me when the time was right.
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[he lets io drag him along, shifting to go with him; gregor moves to rest his head on io's shoulder.]
...kinda like that for him. Little similar to 'Bud', right?
[your naming sense, io...
at its name, the bug pokes its lil head out of gregor's pocket.]
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[ lets him rest on his shoulder and just kind of pats his arm gently, doesn't matter which one. gazing upwards, but glances at where he can see little antennae wiggling. hey there. holds out finger. ]
I warned you, I'm terrible with names. And I did suggest "Buddy" afterward, so.
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[the bug skitters up io's arm and over to one of his pockets instead. greg's vibes are bad he'd rather be here thanks!!
gregor just huffs at that, but. oh well, bug has good taste.]
Little traitor.
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Come now, not a traitor. Bud is just saying hello. Khayratay inagni... [ deliberatly pushing past the translation software ] Good to see you. Thank you...
[ just rests hand on the arm over him now. simulation noukher just kind of turns his head a little and curls some more around gregor from where he is leaned on his side, huffing into his shoulder. his horns are not too big, he is a very good bull. ]
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[heh.
this is-- comfortable, though. easy. his head is still off balance, but he's managing to quiet it somewhat, distract himself and his thoughts away from where they keep turning.
the problem is they turn elsewhere instead, and he's suffering a lack of impulse control.
so after resting here for a minute or five, he's just... shifting to lean up, reaching up to turn io's face toward him, and kissing him again.
see, he told you it wasn't just affection week.]
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[ and then oh.
he did say it wasn't affection week, and he did believe him, okay? he just isn't used to this sort of thing, having his face turned and met. so it takes him a moment to attempt some sort of reciprocation. his brow furrows, but he does...
cautiously press back this time. it seems hesitant and uncertain, but present, and there in the moment, because that is what matters in this instant. when he pulls away, it's just to look him in the eyes. ]
... Did that... help? Even a little?
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[he's a little pink, after, but. it does make him feel a bit better. not fully, it can't push out the feelings he's struggling with, but...
having it returned, at least-- that's something for him to hold on to.]
...what about you?
[how is it for him?]