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 Posted: Sat Sep 14, 2013 9:33 pm
Ian was bored.
It was nearing eight o'clock at night, they had little power and hardly any proper food, and he was currently off duty. The lack of proper lighting meant that it was difficult to continue reading after a certain point of time, and Ian had given up attempting to squint down at the tiny text on the pages of Great Expectations.
Unfortunately for Ian, he had no expectations at the current moment.
Sighing, he rolled over onto his back on his bed and tossed the book in question onto his bedside table. He debated momentarily going to go see Nevada, or maybe Ripley or even Shiloh (if the latter was still okay with him, that was), but their rooms were farther down the hall than he had the desire to walk. Not to mention what with the phones being limited use and all meant that they might not even be in if he dropped by without calling.
Ian pushed himself vertical, ruffling his hair. Dropping his feet to the ground, he padded silently towards his door and pushed it open, heading a few doors down to the left to a certain room before he changed his mind.
He knocked on the door, leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, and waited.
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 9:37 pm
Harland's entire room was a cocoon of candlelight. It would look romantic, if he wasn't just sitting on the floor in a pile of books. He didn't like to read in bed, because he was a light sleeper, and he'd found that doing awake-activities in bed made him have a harder time falling asleep and staying asleep. So there he was, surrounded by books and candles on every surface of the room, just trying to make sure he had enough light to read by.
This whole no-power thing was very frustrating.
He'd tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, but it kept popping out, and falling into his face as he tried to read. This current book was one about folklore; he was partly reading it for his own amusement, and partly in case any of it proved useful some day. Creatures dreamt of, creatures passed down in lore from age to age. The cover depicted a manticore, with its spiked tail and mane. "Look, Coyote, they put a picture of ye on my book," he said, shutting it over his thumb and tilting the book so that the cover glinted in the candlelight.
☆≼Your sense of humour is so rich,≽ Coyote replied, voice dry. Still, he had been enjoying the book, too.
"What I wouldn't give to be sittin' outside under the stars again, in my old coat," he lamented, with a dreamy sigh, stretching. He heard a knock at his door, and his heart started to race: he was that excited to have company. An excuse to stop studying again! He wasn't entirely sure who it could be, though..
He answered the door barechested, in an old pair of jeans, with that lock of his hair perpetually slipping forward. "To what do I owe th' pleasure of seein' ye here at this hour?" Harland began to ask, before looking up to see who it was he was greeting.
His face immediately flushed, and he opened his door all the way. "Ian!" was all he really had to say. "Everythin' alright?" he asked, immediately worried, for no apparent reason. Harland scanned him, visually, for any signs something wasn't alright. Meanwhile, the plethora of candles in his room flickered and a couple of them were blown out by the air circulating into his room.
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 10:42 pm
There was a few thumps from inside the room that indicated someone was definitely in there, and Ian waited patiently for Harland to open the door. When he did, he would find Ian still leaning against the frame looking as casual as casual could be, a light smile on his lips.
A smile that widened at the choice of outfit Harland was currently wearing. Ian's gaze moved from Harland's feet to his jean clad legs, up his bare torso (which was pretty nice looking, he had to admit), and finally to his freckled, strong face - which looked oddly worried about something.
"I'm fine," said Ian lightly, and peered into the room beyond Harland before leaning back. "Just thought I'd pop by and say hello."
There was a small pause.
"You gonna invite me in, cowboy?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 12:48 pm
Harland envied, for a split second, how at ease Ian seemed. He spent half his time stumbling a** over teakettle into things, not really knowing what he was getting himself into. Usually, it ended up being hot water. Harland stiffened faintly as he felt Ian's eyes scan him, worrying irrationally again that Ian could see into his mind.
"Please excuse th' lack of manners, you're welcome in my home," Harland said, taking a step inside and aside to let Ian in with a bit of a flourish. It was not messy by any means, but it was very bare in terms of possessions: all of Harland's original things lay folded neatly in a beaten cardboard box under his desk, and every hard surface was currently covered in candles. The room managed a sort of warm, if clean, appearance. The only thing that seemed a little out of place was a very well-loved wool blanket on top of his bed, with a shamrock embroidered right in the center.
Harland tried to find a seat for Ian, and ended up clearing books off of the desk chair, stacking them on their shelves. "And th' mess, was lookin' for some info in particular," he explained. He stretched, and dug through his clean shirts (there were exactly two of them, which was how many shirts he owned in total) and put one of them on, buttoning it as he talked to Ian. "Been up t' anythin' interestin' lately?" he asked, smiling widely at Ian.
He looked out his window, wondering if it was any nice out.
The candles flickered softly.
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 2:21 pm
He supposed he could have been less...himself, really, but the truth was that it took a great deal of effort in pretending, and Ian had long since decided that just acting the way he wanted to tended to yield the best results. Which was why he felt entirely casual about coming to see Harland late at night, without so much as calling first.
"Glad to hear it," said Ian lightly, and stepped past Harland into the room, glancing around. The lack of power meant that the room was darker than normal, but there were candles lit along the floor and on the desk. They were about the only decorations in the entire room, which was well-kept, but empty.
His eyes flickered briefly to the shirt in Harland's hand before moving back to the stack of books. "Oh, don't get dressed on my account," he said airily, waving a hand behind him as he picked up one of the books, idly flipping through it before setting it back down. He sat down in the newly vacated seat and leaned back, smiling up at the other.
"Not particularly," said Ian with a shrug. "But, then again, there's not that much interesting around here lately."
He plucked at one of Naomi's earrings in his ear absentmindedly. "How have you been, cowboy? Find us any booze yet?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 2:49 pm
Harland was actually very happy to see Ian, and he was even more comfortable with the fact that Ian seemed to be okay with just showing up; that had always been how his house was, growing up: neighbours could just wander in and say hello to whoever was home, and that was how it was done. He couldn't remember being this excited about any of his old neighbours, though.
It made his heart beat faster, and he raised two fingers to feel his pulse quicken. He smiled to himself and tried to calm his heart. "Well, if ye don't mind, then I'll leave the shirt with its brother so I can wear a clean shirt again some other day. When I need it," he agreed, undoing the one or two buttons he'd fastened and setting it back where it belonged, next to the other shirt.
Coyote, desummoned into a sheriff's badge navel piercing, shone gently in the candlelight whenever Harland moved. He did, in fact, note Ian's earrings for the first time when Ian went to tug at it. Harland snapped his fingers, at the request of booze, and went towards the cardboard box."Can ye keep a secret?" Harland asked. It was true that his flask was empty, but he still had remnants of a celebratory bottle of whiskey. He produced it, along with the only tumbler he'd ever owned, and smiled at Ian.
☆≼He probably can't, no,≽ Coyote mused.
"In a manner, but it's not much-- won't last hardly a couple drinks," he said, with a shrug of one shoulder. It was freckled, too, just like his face. "An' here's the catch: it's Whiskey. Can ye handle that?" he asked, nudging aside a couple candles in holders so that he could set the bottle and the tumbler down as though on a dare next to where Ian sat.
He beamed at Ian and started to relight a few of the candles that had been blown out, before settling down on his bed, sitting crosslegged.
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 3:18 pm
He tried to hide a smirk and wast mostly successful, though not entirely. Ian picked up another book and flipped through it again, pausing to let his eyes scan across the neatly blocked text on a page before moving onto the next.
"Sounds good to me," he said, and smiled up at Harland over the book.
{ Will you cease this already? }
What, having fun?
{ Your 'having fun' is not the sort of fun that moves you forward. }
It moves me somewhere.
He set the book back on the table and arched a brow. "I love secrets," he said airily, and his gaze followed Harland as the other moved across the room, digging in one of the boxes before pulling out what looked to be a bottle of sorts. The smile on Ian's face grew wider.
"Well, I'll be," he said, and smirked. "I can handle my liquor well enough, cowboy, but can you is the real question."
Reaching over, Ian plucked up the bottle. He held it against the edge of the table and pulled down sharply until the lid gave a hiss and he popped the now loosened cap off. However, instead of pouring it into the offered tumbler, he held it straight to his lips and took a long swallow.
When he lowered it, he was smiling, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Your turn," he said, holding out the bottle.
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 8:13 pm
Harland spotted what he thought was a smirk on Ian's face, but was too busy straightening some of his books to really register the expression, especially when he was still faintly red in the face. He did love Ian's smile, though; he wasn't sure why, because it just seemed to draw him in. It felt dangerous, in a way.
Maybe that was what appealed to him. "Lovin' secrets isn't the same as keepin' 'em," he said, shaking his head, though he was smiling. He would probably still tell Ian anyway; Harland seldom did anything worth keeping. He did, however, have a latent alcoholism problem that being locked into the Deus area had effectively solved. Sort of.
"If, with a mam who's Irish and my Da being Texan and all, I couldn't hold my liquor... well, that'd be somethin' to be ashamed of, don't ye think so?" he asked, and grinning, took the bottle from Ian as though it was nothing. He wasn't much of a drink from the bottle kind of guy, but if Ian was challenging him, Harland would oblige. If someone challenged Harland's manliness, he was definitely all-in; he was proud, despite his attempts at being polite at all costs, and he couldn't be the hero if he was weak!
He matched Ian's sip, lips against the same bottle mouth Ian had just drank from, and winked at Ian as he made sure to take just a bit more than the other man. He felt the Whiskey sneak into him, and realized he hadn't had anything to drink in a long while. His skin felt warm, and his eyes glinted sharply as he handed the bottle back to Ian. "Handsome Ian, your turn, I believe," he said, tipping an invisible hat with his free hand.
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 8:30 pm
" 'Course it is," said Ian, his smile bordering on devilish now as he surveyed Harland. "Loving secrets means that you also love what comes with knowing these secrets, which means that you like to keep them to yourself."
He slid one leg casually over the other, leaning back against the desk as Harland took the bottle from him. It was probably a dumb idea, drinking this late at night, but Ian had spent the past several days trying to live without electricity and thinking about things he hadn't wanted to, and he deserved a little time off to himself.
And with someone else who actually enjoyed being around him, or so it seemed.
Reaching for the bottle again, Ian tilted it briefly back towards Harland in a mock salute before he took another long swallow, blowing across the top of it in a low whistle.
"Tell me about yourself, Harland the Irish-Texan Cowboy," he said, and for good measure took another swallow before he handed the now half-empty bottle back to Harland. "What makes you tick, hmm?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 19, 2013 11:07 am
Harland had never heard of Ian's reasoning before: loving secrets in a way that meant you wanted to keep them for yourself? He thought, without meaning to, he had been doing that his whole life. Especially the important secrets, the ones who meant a lot to him, the memories that either sustained or felled him. What he had previously been familiar with was a daunting habit others had of acquiring secrets so that they might give them away. Harland wasn't in the habit of giving anything that he didn't intend to part with, though, so he'd yet to suffer very terribly from that age-old habit.
As a matter of fact, Harland was being generally less sensible than he usually was, at the moment. Coyote, rather than reprimanding him, was amused: ☆≼Maybe he'll inspire you to act, and not sit on your a** all day.≽
Harland did not really listen to him. He was, most assuredly, enjoying time spent with Ian. By and large this whole environment was pretty exciting to Harland; he got to do what he loved most, and he thought that maybe one day he'd actually be able to protect, to save.
He laughed as Ian blew across the bottle and made it whistle. In response, Harland whistled a short tune before a broad grin broke out across his face again. What he loved most about Whiskey, apart from the taste, was that his worries melted away.
"About myself? Hmm," he mumbled, thinking. "Always wanted to be a real cowboy," he said, making pistols out of his hands and pretending to shoot the air slowly, accompanied by half-whispered pew-pew sound effects. He relaxed his hands, bringing one up through his wavy hair, sighing and straightening. He wasn't overly muscular, but his body when it moved made it clear he had been once, and could regain it if he'd get off his a** and work out more. He needed to stop studying so much, and return to a more healthy balance of physical exertion and books.
"When I was a boy, I hated reading," he admitted, as a side note, before tackling Ian's last question. His eyes were cast down, at the pile of books. He pulled one leg out of its cross-legged position, leaning on his knee, other leg dangling down off the bed.
Harland held the bottle up in the dim light, swirling the contents. It had been more full than he thought, and now that it was half empty he figured they'd actually had quite a bit more Whiskey than most tolerances would allow for. Woops.
"I guess I still want to be a cowboy," he finally said, taking a long sip. "Protect the weak an' hold evil at bay," he said. Pausing, eyes cast upwards at the ceiling this time, he took a very small additional sip and added, "Save everyone that's left to save."
Ever since his mother had gone a little mad, cast him out of his family life, and Auberon'd gone and died, Harland didn't really have a lot of personal goals. He was just pretty happy to exist at all, and made it a point to try to be as good as he could be.
"If you believe in all that," he joked, and handed the bottle over to Ian. Whatever was left of it. "You gonna tell me anything about yourself, or do I have t' figure it out with just the clues?" Harland asked, eyes wilfully focused on Ian's face, even if he would have used that opportunity to look him up and down again, as if gathering information.
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Posted: Thu Sep 19, 2013 10:24 pm
He had been telling the truth earlier - Ian could hold his liquor very well, sometimes well enough that it made him irritated because he could not seem to numb himself as well as he wanted to. Still, the whiskey was giving him a faintly pleasant buzz, and he was watching Harland's cheeks become pinker with a mildly amused expression on his face.
A laugh escaped Ian's throat. "Aren't you a real cowboy?" he asked, slinging one arm over the back of the chair and letting it dangle, idly rocking his foot back and forth. "You seem like a cowboy enough to me, unless your definition of what a cowboy is differs from mine.
The hating reading however, gave Ian pause, his gaze turning slightly shrewd as he surveyed the other, Ian picking up the useless tumblr and turning it slowly over in his hands. However, now was not the time to get picky, and he let a smile cross his face again.
"Something tells me you'll do just fine with that, cowboy," he said lightly, and smirked, reaching out to take the bottle back from Harland. Ian took another long swallow, licking his lips, and tapped a finger against the neck, thinking.
"You could try to figure me out," he said idly. "Though I doubt you'd get much, I am, after all, simultaneously a closed and open book all at once."
He was smirking again as he tossed the bottle back. "I am a conundrum inside of a riddle mixed with confusion and wrapped in chaos and a little bit of willfulness."
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 8:36 pm
It wasn't that Harland was drunk, he was just pleasantly warm, and it made his contented personality even more exaggerated than before. He didn't really know what to say when Ian said he seemed like a real cowboy, because it just made him so happy that he blushed fiercely for a moment and tipped an invisible hat at the man again, bowing his head down, clearing his throat and smiling while trying to hide how embarrassingly happy it had made him. "Thank ye kindly," he said, trying not to mumble it.
At least the shrewd look was interrupted by another smile. Harland watched Ian tap a finger against his neck and wondered what the man was thinking: his face became a little perplexed, and it almost looked like a painful expression, watching the gears of Harland's brain slowly move.
"It's true, not much t' go on, unless I saw your room of course," Harland joked, shrugging one shoulder. "Who'm I to make assumptions about how ye are on the inside?" he asked, unclasping his claloused hands and holding them palms up for a moment, as if to say I've got nothing.
He snorted, when Ian described himself vaguely. "Well if ye introduce yerself that way, it's no wonder you stay a mystery, Ian," he said, shaking his head, rust and gold of his hair bouncing with the motion. He stretched, and tried to cover his yawn with his elbow. He was getting sleepy with all the gentle flickering lights, but he didn't want to go to bed, even if he wasn't much of a night owl.
"So what's the conundrum," Harland began by asking, raising one finger and tapping it with the index of his other hand to indicate he was counting something, "what's th' riddle," he continued, "what's causin' the confusion," a third finger, "and what of it all do ye want me to know?"
Some people protected themselves from harm by revealing only a little of themselves, or by creating a show pony personality to hide behind while they kept their true nature a secret. Harland was just a show pony by nature, and didn't know any other way than being himself. He seemed kind of like a bumpkin, a lot, registering and digging through that immense memory of his.
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 10:22 pm
Ian could have rivaled the Cheshire cat for smiles. As it was, he merely leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling and tracing the cracks with his eyes. "My room isn't all that interesting," he said truthfully. Ian did not hold much stock in personal effects, and consisted entirely of a set of clothes and stacks of the books he had managed to bring with him (which were basically as many as he could have carried at the time).
"Besides," he added with a wink. "I like the element of surprise."
He tilted his head back down and caught the little yawn that Harland was attempting to hide, a smile forming on Ian's lips, though he said nothing. Idly tugging at one of his earrings again, he leaned on the desk and surveyed the other with an interested sort of stare.
"The conundrum, is that I have two settings myself, neither of which are really anything to talk about at the current moment. The riddle is that sometimes I am neither one thing nor the other but a mixture of both. The confusion is that I rarely talk about myself because I am wholly uninteresting when you think about it."
Ian reached out, taking the bottle from Harland's fingertips and downing almost the rest of it, save for a few swallows left.
"Last one's on you, cowboy."
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Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 11:08 am
It was wonderful to meet someone here willing to smile at him. Jake and Lucy had been less than enthusiastic to meet him, though he had kind of been in strange states both times (in nothing but a towel in the former, locked out and drunk in the latter). "Well now, nothin' wrong with a new start, don't ye think?" Harland wasn't very good with surprises, though he decided not to mention that. He tended to be a little weird about the notion of something catching him off guard, and he often didn't give the right kind of reaction, because he took forever to process what was happening if something startled him.
"Ye have this way of answerin' questions without tellin' me anything at all," Harland complained, shaking his head; he was smiling, though, indicating he didn't much mind. It was something he'd work on, slowly, but he'd just have to see what he could find out about Ian the hard way, he supposed. It was thrilling.
"How could I think about whether or not you're interesting if you won't tell me a thing about yourself?" he teased, and then shrugged it off with a roll of one shoulder, winking at Ian and tipping an invisible hat for what was probably the third time as he drank the last sips.
"Was good whiskey. I'm gonna miss it," he lamented, pressing the bottle to one of his tanned cheeks, eyes shut. The glass was cool against his skin.
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Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 10:41 pm
"A new start, a new life, a new everything," said Ian loftily, waving his hand around in a noncommittal manner. "That's what we all came here for ultimately, isn't it? A new everything, a chance to start over and become someone else, someone that we're not used to being."
He was saying too much. The alcohol was loosening his tongue. Ian sat up a bit straighter, frowning slightly, and pushed the welling frustration back into the corners of his mind, giving Harland an easygoing smile.
"I like to remain a mystery," he said airily, and smiled. "But at the same time, I'm hiding in plain sight, so basically all one has to do to really figure me out is just stop trying to look so hard. Everything I am is right on the surface, really."
The smile widened into a catlike smirk. "I told you," said Ian, pushing himself to his feet and stretching his arms up, feeling his back cracking a little. "I'm always interesting, cowboy. You'll learn that eventually - or maybe you already have."
He walked over towards Harland and stood in front of him, plucking the empty bottle from his fingers.
"I'll get you some more."
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