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Albite felt like he'd been worrying at a bit clenched too tight between his teeth, for how he was ready to foam at the mouth or find something to do which would lead to him blowing off steam. Something irresponsible likely. If he knew himself half as well as he thought he did.

And sometimes - he wasn't even sure of that much.

Still, he'd paced the halls and tracked cracks like a hound round familiar corners, because teleporting below wasn't an option. He'd make his way on around on two legs and tired feet - head full of bees that buzzed anxiously and stung with questions. Nasty venomous things. His aimless wandering led him on as it always did, rat in the maze back to the only office that mattered. More than axinites, more than hessonites, more than the queens. N he cracked the door open without thinking - without knocking before. Caught sight of a fire within - dim-glow he knew better than the back of his hand for the way it cast broken half crooked shadows from a still healing grate that was a mess of delicate things.

Faustite. Firebrand. Beloved housefire and he'd never been so ******** happy to see him -- he looked busy, on the verge of - something? Coming, going, doing. "Boss, hol-up!" Heavy steps and long legs that carried him to skid into stillness before his boy; slight heave to his bound chest like he could finally catch much needed air after treading choppy mental waters for what felt like hours.

"Hey ---" then it occurred to him that maybe Faustite should've been resting; except no one else ******** was or had been or - ******** - half the castle was up like ants and in motion. Jet didn't stay down anymore than Bloodstone; neither of them anymore than he did. Everyone needed to be hamstrung or have their ankles chewed clean off to get any rest - probably.

"---are you okay? No, wait! What're you doing up n working?"

“Yeah? I feel that. It’s like — there’s a tv always on somewhere and you can’t shut it off and there’s no tuning it out.” that sounded ******** insane, he realized, yet lacked the verbiage to describe with any eloquence the nervous buzzing that lived like a live-wire under his skin and in his head.

Saying sleep wouldn’t come sounded better, maybe.

Except —

“You’re going to see Gany?” surprise smothered the worry much easier when he had ember eyes to gauge Faustites well-being off of; tired, but weren’t they all? Busy. Distracting himself, but wasn’t that to be said of each and everyone of them?

All the things left to face in the light of day and he’d rather have not. Focusing on the Princess proved to be a much needed distraction.

“Convince Bloodstone to learn some diplomacy while you’re down there maybe, if he’s around. Send him a letter or something labeled espionage ‘one oh one’ — I dunno. He’s cool, but also? He’s unnerving. Makes me wanna take him to eat something, but like, at a distance? Maybe if I throw food at his door he’ll become tame..…” humm-hawed and found his way hopscotch across the cobbled floor. Wound his way haphazardly to within the range of warmth at Faustites side.

Stole his boys stool and glances in turn while he sat akimbo on it, a brace of elbows on knees while his head found his palms. The pretty thing his boss was fiddling with caught his eye, ginger touches, ever so delicate and with his handling of the strange device.

“Whatever — As long as she’s down there, alive? Ei — firebrand — imma *worry*. Still tho, whas the plan for asking? Also! Whas the accessory? S’new? I’ve never seen anything like it before.” ten-thousand asks rapid fire and he couldn’t help the way his mind latched onto everything that wasn’t the gnawing concern of others or for them and he didn’t know when it’d sprouted up like a fifth limb.

He knew it wasn’t going anywhere though.

Hadn’t had to spend five minutes in Ganys glowing presence to know what a warning sign felt like. Impending as a rock going over a cliff. Except things like Radon didn’t scare him the way Ganymedes continued existence did.

Alive. Healing. Well tended to and accessible to everyone.

There was no hiding from it nor leaving while it weighed on his mind. No warm bed with another body that held more draw to him than the citadels winding spaces and endless corridors. Maybe he’d sleep on the floor under Faustites desk with haymitch? Curl up with the wisps and headache — expectant of the ever nebulous something he couldn’t name.

"Truueeee...s'shame though...." and he tried not to be huffy about it, to be resigned to certain realities of fact. Still -- he wondered, what if he drugged it first? Maybe then Bloodstone would become a tad more cooperative, fun, see things his way. Except that seemed like a death sentence of sorts - playing games with a doctor who was ice cold as an operating table. He couldn't deny the enticement for 'danger' inherent in it though, at making the attempt regardless of the results.

Tugging on tigers tails.

Ahwell, Bloodstone was likely better left to his own devices. The same way Faustite was better left to collecting information in his own fantastical way, because Albite did remember. It was his most favorite thing, listening to Faustite talk about the Rift like he was born in it -- of it from the beginning of time. It was their first real adventure together, such a coy brat his boss was being all 'come hither' unto demise tucked into challenging ember eyes.

He huffed in surprise for being coded footstool, tipped Faustite a bemused look even as he flexed under the gentle weight; shifted to get more comfortable with the press of short metal heels. Easier then to play with the golden tines that wound round the mainline lace of red - exhaust lines?

Whatever, it was something to busy his hands with the clink of noise for dragging blunted nails over varying textures, tracing toe to calf to....

"Ohshit, like an ancestor! Oh, or was your other self a mindflayer or something? Mindreader?" Faustite was so cool, n Albite realized he didn't know half the tricks his boy'd invested himself in. Hadn't asked, hadn't even known that he should've. Now that he was looking at it though, thoughts running wild with the possibilities of --

No wonder Ei'd joined up with information, he could lay on hands and pull it outta peoples heads!

"Whatever they were, I think that's amazing. Hell, if you find anything good in there? Clue me in on it. We've got a ******** wellspring in our basement n' I don't think anyone's doing s**t about it - besides you, maybe? N it's driving me up a tree." excitement that glowed in honey eyes, and simmered into all the ways he was loath to say he wanted more from Ganymede. That access to the first person who had any real knowledge of things beyond Earth was exciting as ******** for him. Though, it was part vanity too. Sniffing out the past like a treasure map, laying it translucent over the present and seeing where the lines merged and skipped. He'd wanted...more...answers, angles, the image of an end. She woulda talked to him, too. He knew she would have, but apparently having holes in his head made him an automatic flight risk!

Or Gany didn't wanna see him....

One of the two? Whatever. He had no reason to be sour about it when there was so much more going on. Had to breathe around that gnawing little thread of anxiety and let it all roll by. Focused instead on where the leather of the boots in his hands rolled all the way up, such formfitting things, not a single bit of budge to 'em. Kudos to the cosmic tailor for giving Faustite enough metal to be a menace on top of being a furnace brought to life.

"Yanno, if I was gonna guess I'd say she probably committed an act of love, heh, being Ganymede n all? Why stop 'em though, they don't make her invincible. S'just glowy bits n wings that, apparently, don't fly. Though...n don't tell Bloodrock...but I bet she could if she tried." he'd never actually thought to ask about the markings -- then again he hadn't actually ever met any other glowing people besides her, had he? He didn't think he had, not personally at least, but there was always so much going on it was hard to keep track; especially since there was no end to 'glow' going round, magic, alien, youma, senshi. s**t flying over his head in the middle of a battlefield at ten thousand miles per hour.

"******** rather piss off Aqua than try that!" A bark of a laugh for Faustites words, Albite lolled his tongue, made a face of it. Wooing Bloodstone would've been like sticking his most favorite parts dead center in a beartrap and hoping he could finesse it into never being sprung - with what skill? Who ******** knew. Especially when his knowledge of the man was boiled down to 'possibly hangry' and 'clearly in need of a hug'.

Even his love of thrill couldn't mitigate the fatal risk of playing with that, something that felt like a self-imposed purgatory under Bloodstones endlessly passive gaze.

"Oh, trust me Firebrand. I know Word's Power. Especially when it's used ******** skillfully.....n she doesn't even really need any skill, does she? Just the right kind of will. Having her down there, waiting, alive? It's terrifying." he didn't like it. Captives in cages. They were keeping her better n Jet'd been kept, he was sure. Would've done something about it if he didn't know for sure it'd get him in too much trouble for even his General to get him out of.

All that led to lengthy little sighs for accidents he imagined coming of it. Gany's existence in their vicinity. As far as he was concerned nothing good, aside from getting information, could have come of it. N oh, how he wished he could've been useful for that - turned focal into a pointed thing instead of loose-leaf and scattered like granules of sand in the wind. He would've done something with himself then. Made his tongue a work of weapon instead of a wag of thoughtless excitability.

"I hope you get what you want. More is always better, never know when we can use it. N if all else fails...if they cant...crack her open? Or whatever they're trying to do? Maybe we can ask them real nice to kill her." sharp little hum for how he'd wasted his moments spent with her, going on - when he could've asked a thousand other things. It was just - he'd been so excited! ********, and also babysat?

So there was that too...

"Velvet - I like the name - bet he was cute, too." and it was a thing, not to tire of playing with the complexity of Faustites footwear, but to be careful lest he ruined some integral part of it. To leave the thick hide and delicate wires alone. Easier instead to pull those heels into his lap and twist on the stool until he could set his chin atop the jut of one pointy, red clad, knee. To bask a little in the heat, closer now - nearly uncomfortable, even. But he liked it that way. To sweat a little and wonder..."How often can you use this thing? Do they have to be willing or -- hell -- can you just tug things loose?"

Albite snorted for that because he liked Aqua, n Aqua liked him! Or maybe it was that he tolerated him like mildly annoying weather - for his usefulness. Which was something he enjoyed way more than making him angry. Being useful. Mostly because pissing off Aqua meant pissing off Jet meant -- well -- pissing off Aqua?

Those two were in love and entwined inseparably; touched each others starseeds, shared a space with a bed n...

Wounding one was the same as wounding two - n in the end? Albite wouldn't have done it even for fun. He liked them both too much. Aqua more, always, for his sharp and honest words. How he pulled no punches, human to his core. Would learn to see Jet as more than 'Boyking & Love of Aqua' with time, maybe.

"I'll behave. Promise." ran fingers over plated calf, trailed them higher still, till he could wrap his arms in a loose hug around his prize. Wound them there and framed his own biceps with his fingers. How much easier it was to sit still like this - watching Faustite with a lidded gaze while he played slowly with unwinding his endless locks.

It was all he could do, sometimes. Sit back and watch. Especially when there weren't words. Lysi n Ilse felt like such a raw subject, like Nembus only more. As if speaking their names was twisting the invisible knife labeled loss deeper.

It wasn't Eion's fault --- couldn't have been Lysi's -- Ilse was the obvious pin for it, but then again? Lysi was such a good girl. Soft spirit, morally kind. Maybe pushing her to love and friends had caused a rift? Maybe she was easily swayed by gentle persuasion of those she liked?

Maybe Ilse lied.

Regardless, Faustite lost his Sister - Albite lost the star of his heart, had failed the girl who'd adopted him without pause. Who was cosmically close to him as Gany, relatively speaking. The Princess called them 'Jovian' and Court. Albite considered them to be closer even than that - if not by blood than by the things that made up the moons they came from. They shared something older than that. A past. The dust of creation.

He hoped Lysi was safe and surrounded by unicorn plushies and endless Christmas lights. That at least she was somewhere warm and comfortable. Not nearly as badly as he hoped that they'd someday get her back.

"Ooh...lookit that, it's a boy after my own heart! Mmhn, think I like you more though." soft tease and a slow smile. All sorts of awe for having the device explained. *Velvet* - such an interesting name. Nice of him to leave Faustite with something useful in this day n age.

Far better than a dead planet full of ghosts n empty skies.

Albite ticked a modicum more awake for that, cocked his head enough to nuzzle gently at the beginning of Ei's thigh, to hide his smile for being asked to tag along. Lest he seemed too over-eager. "Duress -- she doesn't know you're mine -- that I'm yours. I don't think they even know I was there." because once in a blue moon he could be clever about things, even if it was by sheer accident.

"Yeah, I'm all for it Firebrand."

If they couldn't have her death? Maybe they could have some answers instead, for whatever Faustite asked. His Sister owed him that much - repayment for everything they'd taken - an exaction of a toll, gently, with pressure and care.

With his boys ingenious plans....

An idle sniff and glance at the thing -- such a pretty little trinket, clearly made to be delicate by delicate hands. Then somehow made to work by Faustite, and ******** did he love how smart his firebrand was. He wondered if anyone else told Faustite that he was a marvel? Thought maybe he should've -- would; while he smiled slow and nodded along, ever reluctant to loose his hold from all the warm. He wanted to curl over it for another few hours still. Until he fell asleep like that. No matter that he would've woken and cursed himself out for it afterwards when every touch ached for aloe like a raw sunburn.

It would've been nice for however long it lasted, though. Like heated blankets set on high. Nearly too hot - but if he sat close enough for long enough it almost didn't matter. Especially when everything was quiet in his head where Faustite filled all the buzzing spaces with his words instead of Albites own. Gentle teaching tone clipped at the edges that imparted wisdom like a shared thing, like Faustite believed in him.

He very much wanted for Jet to say yes...

Wanted.

"Me?" slow-slow blink that followed a near yawn, and only then did he relent in playing boa-contently constricted. Uncurled enough to consider all the implications. Faustite wanted him to do the thing? To take Gany's memories for his own and share. Anyone could use it, on themselves, others, without asking thoughts could be snatched.

"I'm supposed to remember my own memories..." that caused a confusion, but he was gently eager on the uptake. Careful of the clasps and refined filigree. "...ohshit -- would it give me only Albites? Does it work for, uhm, Praxidike also? Like - an ancestor?" if he put it on his left he'd be less likely to ******** things up with it, to touch the places Faustite indicated on accident. It took some doing though, figuring out how to wind the thing round - slide it over hand and wrist and -- "You're sure...no, wait, if it's my stuff how will I know it works for remembering right?"

Or maybe he misunderstood -- or maybe -- and he had holes in all those places, heart and head. Or was it considered his clavicle - his sternum? Albite had to pause in his finagling with the finer parts of fitting the thing round his hand in such a way that it'd stay, in order to look down at his chest and try to spy exactly where the hole was. Sternumish seemed about right. Even as he aborted a giggle for how, if he stretched his arms just so, if he flexed, it simply managed to give him a valley of cleavage to stare down into.

He'd never get over the getup he'd managed to get shoved into, really. The hilarity of the Cosmic tailor getting their kicks in at his expense, and his inability to complain about the things he enjoyed.

"Cause I'm all about experiences," he curled and uncurled his fingers, eyed the gem set center palm and was careful to avoid touching it overly much. It's violet hue was definitely Faustites color. The way it showed up so often - from the crystals that lined the walls to the lightning that split the Rifts skies. It was a wonder his boy hadn't ended up draped in purples instead of the red-oranges that screamed 'flame' in the same way his flickering core did. Like a warning built from head to toe to be intimidating at a distance, and deadly up close. "but I'd rather have yours than mine."

He wouldn't exactly be asking Gany, would he? No, he knew he would ask, and then take regardless, and then question whether or not he had any control over what he took and how much and how long ---

"Unless--unless it makes more sense to just...." hushed and hovered like a bee caught in amber, all hesitant half pause of motion before he levied up to reach for Faustites chest, molasses slow to press violet and silver over his well bundled center - faustite could run - could tell him if he needed a magic word, or phrase, or if it was just a touch -

How he'd always wondered at the way the clasps and cloth seemed thickest just above the end of his iron-wrought ribs. Like his body knew his soul was vulnerable enough to need those layers of protection, whatever little good it would do to have it. Like the clasp at his throat, heavy enough to stop a blade - to resist some magic.

No, no, no, no -- !

There was Fear.

A rake of claws sunk viciously deep, body and mind. It radiated worse than any wound. He clenched his teeth against the rise of bile, wash of saliva that always prefaced illness and flooded up, made himself to swallow it down - because he was not - refused - to make a mess in Faustites lap. Panted for it instead once he found something like center - if that took minutes or years he didn't ******** know.

Only that it was good to breathe normally again.

In and out till the fear that roiled through gave way to sick gave way to - him - he was himself and he was in this room. He was surrounded by heat enough to be scorched. Not cold and dying while simultaneously burning alive, and wasn't that some absolute ********!? He could smell ozone and grate-smoke. His vision wasn't filled with - green - piercing, woven, thick. Laced in silver and gold. It was beautiful. He wanted to watch it burn. He could feel more than cold and unforgiving metal - a blessing and curse - such a shame, because it'd been a lovely car!

"That b***h" - wretchedly wet hiss. One could hear the clench of bone grit down, as he bit the words off at their head. He had no other sounds to spare, only a body full of muscles that jumped with lightning-struck flinches of nerves, a feeling that rolled under his skin, head to toe to the palm of his hand where it lay splayed open over Faustites chest, and felt as deadweight as marble. He wanted to press for more as badly as he wanted to fling the device free and shatter it.

It was a thought. An impulse.

Survival instinct that warred with common sense over the urge to sink his fingers within Faustites center, wrap them round and take *everything*. Everything, everything, everything ever that was Faustites and make it his. Till he'd consumed the scraps, licked the plate clean.

Oh, to pull his boys precious soul free and hold it as his own - keep it safe - then scour it of thoughts till he found madness in the maze of someone else mind. <******** hell, firebrand...." rasped as the shadow of it passed across his eyes, like cloud over sun. So Albite shuttered his gaze, and willed the rest away while letting his hand fall to sit heavy on the desk. As if forcing himself to shift his focus would spare him his thoughts on the jag of a broken bone that wasn't his, or would ease the confusion of knowing that as 'true' while also 'a lie' by some number of degrees while he held himself on arms that felt like steel and jelly combined. It didn't. Either because Eion's ghosts were clingy, or because he was so attached that he couldn't help himself but continue to feel sympathy pangs wracked to the n'th degree. So he buried his face into Faustites shoulder, pressed his eyes into embroidery until there was only darkness for it.

Breathed. Again, again, again, in, out, and familiar like home, like stepping between shadows mid teleport. It was something he knew. Albite felt that lungful break on a choked sort of laugh. Cracked little thing, strange, for how it shook him harder than any sob. "Oh, ********, Ei. Never wonder how I love you. ********, bravest boy that ever was, weren't you?"

And he needed a moment more, but more importantly than that? He needed Eion to know.

The scoff for that, mention of Sylvite and whatever memory Fasutite'd wanted to offer probably would've been better than what he'd plucked. Proved that there wasn't any control over what one took ---- it all came on unbidden. Worse that he hadn't put himself there and Faustite hadn't ******** offered. That there was no bright red *Pause* button that he could push in order to eject himself from the memory. He wouldn't've minded if it'd been anyone else, wouldn't've hit like a train, but it was his boy --- and ******** did that hurt to know.

To lean silent on, and wonder how much he spoke into existence, or kept clenched between his teeth.

Jagged thoughts that met - *touch* - and he couldn't cull the flinch for nonexistent fractures quickly enough. Nor shrug pain that wasn't real, or his, or...It was fine, he was fine. If he told himself that there was nothing there except Eion and his searing warmth, familiar, safe.

He knew it.

Knew his boy like the back of his hand and unclenched enough to speak. "Mpphh, never her, Alexa's too good....though *b***h* is also too ******** tame a word for -- *that*." and the initial fire-hot surroundings abated into something far more tolerable to give himself over to. Like an easy thing, how it felt good to have the mechanism removed so he didn't have to think of it anymore. So he wasn't tempted to hunt after that thing. That vile lesion of a being, a slick eel wearing the pale skin of a woman. Beautiful. Such a godamned shame that she was beautiful, but weren't the worst demons always the prettiest?

That felt like an abject truth. Like the reason why Alamadel made some part of him wary enough to smile in a more primal way; bearing teeth like something far more animal and far less friendly. Show caution sharp and drop the edges if it went well. If the pretty thing proved friend instead of foe. Just like Axinite, initially, like -- anyone that was too immediately kind in the wrong sort of ways. When it felt perfunctory and forced instead of a genuine part of who they were. He wanted to say he was wrong about Axinite. Except *She* existed, and *He'd* been alive for *Her* existence. Done Nothing.

Even if he hadn't known? Albite wasn't sure he could excuse it. Even of the kindest man -- outwardly, in public? Sure. But in his heart? <******** gentle scritch of claws was a wonderful distraction when paired with words warm enough to drag him up from under whatever sedimentary layer of thought he'd been hiding in; at least enough to twitch his head to the side and press a kiss to Faustites collar - hard leather and metal - something he didn't need to see to feel.

"You don't get a say," he groused gently, and suddenly he wished for Eion to have far less in the way of clothing. For him there was no faster way to relax back into being, than by spending the next few hours washing the taste of a memory out of his mouth with his beloved. "N'fact? You never get to say a mean thing about yourself again, not unless it's 'true'." words clamored to get out about the types of bravery that existed when one lacked power and faced an abyss of absolutes.

Inescapable -- repulsive enough to require endless showers. Controlling, consuming -- he hated her instantly. A shock of a thing. How Albite knew he would've fought for 'death' and there Faustite was 'alive'. An exclamation point and middle finger to the world. It was nothing he could say eloquently, knew the words would come out a mess. So he swallowed them down along with a newfound disdain for Chinese food he'd not actually tasted, would lose the sense to have any taste for ever again, probably.

Or no - <******** Her - that silver haired psycho wasn't ruining a good thing like chow mein, not for him! Waru resolved to let his sourness with it go within the month, but no sooner. Found something like a smile for what felt like the tiniest of wins over a woman who'd never existed for him; as the continued touches soothed and he cracked an eye open to gaze into dark muffle of long hair and a strip of cloth.

"Do you know what happened to that Chevy?" little flicker of a whisper tucked into a nuzzle, an arch for more. He would take Faustites hands on him forever, but especially now.