ic contact.

[blyat]

TEXT / AUDIO / VIDEO / ACTION
un: reliant

Comments

un: darknight, ah a fresh inbox all for ME

[fessus]

Hey

😳

[blyat]

[Oh, it's you.]

hey yourself
what?

[fessus]

[ To no one's surprise, that immediate aggression prompts his own. ]

You get back to the med bay yet?

[blyat]

[someone help them]

are you asking cause you actually care if i did or not?

un: ward, post-nudes debacle

[coherer]

It's a good thing you're pretty
bc you are so dumb dude
I hope you're in there naked and have to think about how dumb you are

[blyat]

yeah
i get it

[coherer]

( Chewing on his lip for a minute, reading the dismissive message, he wonders if he's the one who fucked things up.

And way before Cain posted in the group chat. )

Hey, sorry, that was dick thing to say
It was an accident, it'll blow over super quick

[blyat]

[He's not mad at Jonas. He sees the attempt at levity for what it is. He's just —]

you two talking?

[not here]

[fessus]

[ On the evening of December 24th, Cain will return to his tent to find a small innocuous package sitting on his cot. It's wrapped badly in what appears to be the plastic covering for a bulk pack of freeze-dried foods, with a simple note in elegant handwriting taped to its front: Open Dec. 25th.

Inside is a classic glass ship-in-a-bottle, complete with blue-dyed liquid sloshing around its body. There's an adhesive device at the base of the bottle itself, making it easy to mount wherever is most convenient for it to be viewed. The next note on the inside carries a suggestion of where: Ship for your ship. PS, that's what ocean looks like.

The present and both notes are suspiciously absent the name of any gift-giver. ]

action, morning of the 25th

[coherer]

( A small box is sitting on Cain's cot in his tent. It's unassuming, affixed with a dangling label marked up by chicken scratch handwriting. The message is as follows: )

To: K

To the "best shot on this whole damn ship." Thanks for keeping me (relatively) sane these past few weeks. It means more than you know.

Have a Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays.

From: J

P.S., I know your name starts with a C, but it actually makes a K noise, and C would be a stupid nickname.

P.P.S., you're a babe. :P

( Inside the box is a gold lighter. One of the metal ones that opens at the top. One you can flick in a super cool way when you're deep in thought or something, and look super mysterious. Beside it is a pint of whiskey, which looks surprisingly expensive.

Both are references to their first conversation; something fun, simple, and stress-free. )

guess who it is

[fessus]

Hey

kyaaaaa~

[blyat]

[blissfully unaware of impending doom.]

yo

dun dun dun

[fessus]

I need you to be straight with me about smth

[blyat]

[why does this give him the "can we talk?" anxiety]

uh
ok?

un: ward

[coherer]

( Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened last night, even if details are floating in and out of dreamland. He's hungover, therefore he drank too much, and there's an unread notification from Noctis in his communicator's inbox written in a tone he can only read as fretful.

Scrolling up, Cain's message is there, too. Awkward. Concerned. Though Cain doesn't like to show it, they're emotionally connected. Friends, partners, whatever—it doesn't need a name, not when they like what it is so far. That's a problem now. He doesn't want to make this serious again Cain's will, and his stomach roils considering the weight of the story he knows he has to tell him, and not for his own sake; Cain deserves to know. Because what if this gets deeper? What if their bond becomes a friction-locked rivet too strong to break without excess force and heat?

Jonas doesn't know much about Cain. Not verbally. Not with words when prolonged looks, gentle strokes, and fervent kisses have given the foundation for what he can build the rest of their relationship on. But he knows enough to extrapolate more information using common sense and his own psychology.

Cain comes from a hard place from hard circumstances, from a frozen rock devoid of entertainment. Cain is also a soldier, run so ragged he has scars to show for all the abuse he's been through. Mentally and physically, he's become steeled, and while part of that is his own nature, the majority of it, Jonas knows, is lottery. Cain's been exposed to things no one should be exposed to, forced to use his body as both a weapon and a simple mechanism for self-satisfaction. Cain's had to watch others do the same, learning almost by example, enough that he can silence the alarms that would be, to Jonas, deafening. And while Cain is abrasive, blunt, and occasionally brutal, he is also misunderstood. Like him.

When he was assumed to be bad by appearance or by reputation, first impressions didn't matter. He hated that, even though he believed it was people's right to discard him. This means that Jonas strives, though reluctantly and not without complaint, to give others in his situation opportunities to show themselves. He wasn't given the same graces, and now it's too late for him to prove to anyone he's worth more than he was given. What Cain has given him through constant company, sharing it with his whole body, is this impression: Cain is kind. He is gentle. He is protective. He is thoughtful. He is enthusiastic. He is passionate. He is hurting.

Cain is a dog on a chain forced to fight while his tail is still wagging. Beyond the snarls of bared teeth, the squared up intent to win, and sharp claws that never retract is a mutt in a box left alone in the rain.

He wants to bring him inside. )

Hey, can we talk?

[blyat]

[Jonas reaches out to him first. Of course he does. It's only as he's demonstrated himself to be all along — a kindness and warmth in the open span of his arms, not held back by pride or worse impulses of cruelty. Cain doesn't know what this conversation is going to entail, but it would take a lot for him to ever shut Jonas out. At least, a lot more self-restraint and discipline than he possesses.

He likes talking to him too much. Being around him.]

yeah
you still feeling sick?

[coherer]

( When Cain responds, Jonas' stomach tightens. He feels nauseous, and he knows it's anxiety joining hands with his hangover to make him feel worse.

God, he can't keep doing this. He has to just say it. )

Yeah but it's fine
I deserve it from drinking almost that whole bottle

I told you I was gonna say something to you eventually
You remember that right?
That's ig this conversation
And it's not you, it's nothing bad about you, but I want you to know that like
However you respond to what I'm gonna say is okay
Okay?
I'm sorry it took me this long

@darknight

[fessus]

You know that Europe is a continent right

[blyat]

what's a continent
isn't it a country?

1/2

[fessus]

[ ]

[fessus]

No

A continent is a landmass, way bigger. Countries are based on sociopolitical divides instead of only geographical ones

Like Russia is a country

It's part of the European continent and the Asian continent bc it's so big it spreads over both

un: ward

[coherer]

Are you into Noctis romantically sexually whatever, yes or no
Don't complicate it, don't try to skirt around it, please
I like never ask anything of you
I need to know now or I'm going to explode

1/2

[blyat]

[]

2/2

[blyat]

jonas

what the fuck are you talking about

[coherer]

Scroll up and read what I said again if you need more context
I'm confused and I'd like to not be confused anymore