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When this tribulation first began, Alkmene had asked, what do you need from me? He supposed that the answer was truly a distraction. Because that's what drinking was, wasn't it? That's what spending time with his boys became when his mind was always wandering to what they tasted like on the inside, if he ever caught a glimpse of their source of power and life.

Now Haru was indisposed. Caught up in some sort of a project, but Eion hadn't pried. He assumed it was with his sister, for how often they were together. He would have to turn to someone else for a distraction.

And Faustite had many someones to whom he could spread the burden of his company. But Celadonite already put up with him for so many hours a day, and he still felt a measure of guilt for attacking him in the Rift. Felt terrible for asking that his hands be bound when he slept, lest he try to eat Albite — or even Celadonite — in his sleep. Albite was busy, as he often was, with making new connections. Perhaps he found a new lover with whom he could occupy himself without fear of death. Jadarite was working. Fafnir was probably working, too, but —

He'd opened his backyard to Eion once, hadn't he? Maybe swimming would take his mind off of it for a while.

For as busy as Albite was, he hadn't taken his phone, and Faustite had the passcode now. Typing it in, he opened up the messaging app and selected the last conversation held with Trey Cameron. Seemed trey had asked to meet up, and either the question went unanswered, or Waru took that as an invitation to burst into being in Trey's home, probably causing Trey to question how much trouble he would get into for pasting the man's organs all over the lawn.

So Faustite, with cincher dawned and a couple nails heavily clipped, typed out his own characteristic response: NEED A FAVOR. WANT TO USE YOUR POOL.

He sat and stewed while he waited for Trey’s response. He felt the time passing — seconds dragged over his skin, minutes bored into his head like steadily descending nails. Faustite fidgeted, then fidgeted more, then when he’d gotten tired of bobbing his knee, he had started out of his office.

It was a longer walk into the Rift than had he been a Captain, he knew. Most of the time, that annoyed him — he would’ve rather been closer to the Rift — but the longer walk granted him more time to wait for Trey’s reply. If he would reply.

If. Even if Faustite was his General, he couldn’t deny that Eion had no more claim to Trey than anyone else. That, itself, was exciting for knowing that Trey was free to choose to ignore him, but worrisome for the same reason. While he wanted his boys to be able to ignore him, he didn’t want his boys to ignore him; he wanted them to choose to respond, to choose to stick with him, to enjoy their time with him. These thoughts dogged his heels as he descended the flights of steps to the central room adjacent to the Hall.

Then the phone in his hand went off, and Faustite dropped it in his excitement to see if it was Trey who returned his text. The cincher-bound General scrambled down the last few steps to catch the phone, checked it for damage, then tapped in the pin to look at the text.

It was Trey. The flamewrought thing smiled.

SOONER IS BETTER he typed as he lingered on the stairs. A pair of Lieutenants passed him without looking back. 7?

No, seven was much too far away. He couldn’t wait that long.

Backspacing, he typed 6? then touched send.

He passed his wait with busywork. Kept his legs busy with wandering the Citadel, kept his mind busy with sussing out every idle-looking Lieutenant and Basic he could find, even a Captain or a Super, and very liberally cussed them out until they found something to do. Even if it was cleaning the bathrooms or polishing the crystal protrusions that lit some of the hallways, he felt a margin better for watching them work miserably.

After each one, or two, he had Headache check the time on his tablet. It was never more than a few minutes passed, but that was a few minutes that he would never have to sit through again. It was a few minutes spent without eating starseeds, or thinking about eating starseeds.

Finally the minute struck, and Faustite gave up on the idea of showing up a few minutes late (which was a human tactic he'd noticed from some of his boys, and he wanted to try it for himself, but in retrospect, it seemed ridiculous and counterintuitive). He vanished mid-step, to the relief of the Lieutenant that he was about to pass in the hallway, and it cost him but a thought and a fair measure of energy to find himself in Trey's neighborhood.

If it could be called a neighborhood, for how much acreage over which each of the houses lorded. A quick duck near the arborvitae in the adjacent house gave him ample cover to don his guise as Eion, and as the youth slipped away, some of the leaves had begun to smoke.

Eion was going to see a Boy. One he liked very much, at that — and with that burgeoning thrill hidden under layers of jackets and pullovers, Eion made his way around to the side gate where he could let himself in with Trey's code. He shut the gate behind himself quietly, lest Joellen notice him, as he decided that he very much did not want to meet her. That made it compulsory to sneak under the windows rather than pass before him, and he peered around the corner to see if the matron was lounging on her pool furniture.

No Joellen. Only the exact boy he was looking for.

Eion smiled, and pushed himself away from his cover spot to trot over to the Boy of the Hour (or three). "You're timely," he observed, and without thinking much of it, absconded with a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board. Holding the slice in his mouth, captured the well-groomed boy in a hug.

"Teach that to the others, will you?" He couldn't complain about the group's punctuality too much; it was usually Albite who couldn't tell time well enough to show up when he was required.

Eion sighed for how he didn't want to let go, because it meant losing the hand in his hair and the warmth against his cheek. Trey was solid, and Eion was always cold, so he was ever happy to leech heat where heat was offered.

"Anything," he answered. "Anything's good." Eion felt like he was always eating, and his hunger never died down for long. Once, he had ordered a ridiculous amount of pizzas on another boy's tab, eaten through all of them in the same night, and never suffered a stomachache for it. Part of him wondered if that was because he had no stomach left to bother, but he'd felt nausea before, so a stomachache wouldn't be so astonishing. He woke up the next evening as ravenous as he always was, however; it was like he'd only managed to accomplish the day's calories in eating, much like any other day.

Eion bit off a piece of cheese, gave it a couple chews, and swallowed it (a little too whole, for he had to struggle to get it down). "Wish I could apply for more than three hours of glamour."

Staying an entire weekend sounded utterly divine. He was sure he would lose his drive to do work, however; he'd spend every waking moment warming Trey's bed instead, then he'd find a taste for laziness, and likely get demoted for all that complacency. Still, he couldn't deny that the idea of an entire weekend at Trey's place was tantalizing, if far beyond his reach. Perhaps he could seek out some sort of battery to sustain a glamour for longer — a project he could set Tama on in exchange for taking that surly cat into the Rift unscathed.

With a sigh, he withdrew far enough to pick up a wine glass. He swirled it in one hand while he spoke. "Think you can keep me distracted for a few hours?"

Eion chuckled. Trey already knew Waru too well.

Even if his next comment was a joke, Eion glanced over at him. Watched him. Strong language for such an aside; Eion wondered if Trey was harder on himself than he let on. It would make sense, being the groomed future owner for Joellen's enterprise. Perhaps that habit stemmed from her, then.

Trey was right about visiting a cat, however, and Eion made a mental note to task Tama with this research. He figured the Mauvian owed him fro that trip to the Rift for his little research project.

It was Trey's question that gave him pause, however. Eion took a sip from his wine as his smile faded, and he lapsed into silence for a long moment. His attention reached the water, lingering there, even as he found a seat on the patio furniture.

Eion knew that Trey deserved a little more transparency, but Trey also deserved a General that he could respect. Was he defeating one with the other by admitting why he needed a distraction, or would Trey find it respectable that he would be open enough with Trey to disclose the reason? Would Trey think him weak? Would he regret the choice to transfer from Netherite to him?

Eion breathed a thin sigh, saw the wine in his cup ripple in his periphery. "I'm addicted to starseeds. Was under control, but something aggravated it. Senshi magic. Now I'm in its grip again. Nothing for it but distractions," he added as he crossed his legs, "Unless I want to finish becoming a youma."

Life seeped back into Eion's body when Trey spoke again after his admission, dispelling any expectation of severe judgment. He seemed understanding, which was more than Eion could ask for of anyone — he'd heard enough chides and jeers and sneers about those who were addicted to starseeds, and loathed to hear more from a boy. Especially a delightful boy.

Eion also expected that to be the end of the conversation. With a starseed addiction, there was little for anyone else to do about it. They oft had a way of working themselves out without much outside interference: either the person summoned enough internal strength and fortitude to wear the addiction down as he had done before, or they succumbed to it and became youma. Thus, he expected most others to simply take it for what it was and continue with their days. After all, unless Faustite was reaching into their chests, it often didn't affect them.

He also knew that Trey had a distinct disadvantage by being lower in rank than Eion. If Faustite felt particularly peckish and couldn't contain himself, then wrenching Trey's starseed out of his chest would be less of a challenge than Albite's. That he broached no fear despite this admission was likewise welcome.

Sighing through his nose, Eion found himself a seat. He'd rather have joined Trey on the wicker couch, but perhaps it wasn't time for that just yet.

"Your offer's sweet." Far sweeter than he expected, which left him a little misty. Eion spared himself a moment for some self-control by sipping at the wine. "That you would offer it at all is deeply generous. But…

"Think anywhere would accept someone who burned for 24 hours and didn't die?" Eion was skeptical; regardless of how highly trained the staff, Faustite was something distinctly unearthly that they would not have had exposure to prior. Unless Trey wanted to obtain the whole location and quietly replace its staff with some of their own, Eion doubted that he could stay anywhere for any length of time as Faustite. And he would have to, given the few scant hours of glamour that he had.

"Unless we do like you said before — get a cat to take care of it." It'd be the only way.

Pale fingers with clipped nails circled the bottom of the wine glass as he contemplated it. His reticence to answer the question reflected in the raspiness of his voice. "Oh, he knows. Caught me before I could kill my best friend. The reason Kamacite still lives."

"There were," he admitted as his attention shifted to the pool. Eion raised his glass, took a deep pull, then found himself a proper seat in which to fidget. "Was experimenting on youma, though, so he's out of the picture. Might be more." It'd be worth looking into; he knew Celadonite had mentioned Amazonite once before, and Faustite had worked with her as well. She might be the next person to try for some kind of solution to his starseed problem.

Then there was Jet, and his quiet project. Eion didn't know anything more about it, yet it was intended to help.

The words remote and secluded called his gaze back to his conversation partner, and Eion studied him inquisitively. "Rift's free." Assuming that the place was strictly remote and secluded, and didn't come with the trained staff that Trey had mentioned previously. If it did, then the Rift was likely the worst place to be — all of its denizens ate starseeds and had no qualms about it. He supposed that would be antithetical to the help offered by trained individuals.

With another pull of wine, Eion was starting to feel the heat in his core reach his fingertips. His lips tingled, and it was a pleasant distraction in its own right. Nothing compared to what Trey could do to anchor his thoughts in the moment, but he had already begun feeling a margin more at ease in his own skin.

His own fake skin, he reminded himself. His fake skin that he couldn't seem to manage beyond three hours without needing a nap.

Eion failed to suppress his smile at Trey's question. "Swimming. Wine. You." Eion chuckled briefly. That Trey had to ask was adorable, and endearing in its own right; perhaps encounters like this were run-of-the-mill to the wealthy, attractive boy, but to Eion? They were three hours of living a fantasy where nothing was wrong, where he could leave behind his day of draining energy, honing soldiers, and slowly burning to death. He could pretend he was part of society again. Could sneak a taste of normal. That, he found, was sufficiently tantalizing to the senses that he wasn't always thinking about starseeds.

"Your life's so different from everything I know. I like being a part of it sometimes."

Talking about Trey's life was a far better distraction. Eion shook his head vehemently after nearly choking on his drink. Dress him up, parade him around in front of cameras? "N-no, no, that's — no. I'm not… tall enough for that." Among other things. A myriad other things. He wasn't built for it, didn't have a kissable, perfect face like Trey, didn't have the ripped body that Waru spent so much time sculpting… He was always terribly frustrated with himself, and for the rest of the world to see his every inadequacy all dolled up and put in front of a camera? Unholy. The whole idea was a punishment.

"Rather just watch." That'd likely be boring enough. The food sounded nice, though. He liked food. Probably more than he ever did before he became a General.

He couldn't keep himself from thinking about rehab, however. If the idea was to relax and be sheltered, then the Rift was precisely the worst place to be. But Eion wasn't entirely sure what rehabilitation meant to Trey — it sounded worlds away from what he had experienced in the past. There must've been multiple paths to reach the same end result, but he wondered which of those paths were most effective. Was it better to go about it Trey's way? It sounded less trying, less violent and isolating, but he couldn't speak to its effectiveness.

"My General," and he started swirling the wine as much as he fidgeted with himself, "she… Learned I had a starseed problem, when I was a Captain." He wasn't looking at Trey so much as past him, at the door in the distance, as if watching for Joellen to show up — as if watching for when he should stop talking. "She locked me in a broom closet, gave me so much work I wouldn't have time to think about starseeds, and kept me sleep deprived for months. If I ever snuck one, she cut more out of my life. Another hour of sleep, or she'd do something worse, like make me eat cat vomit 'if I was so hungry that I needed a snack'. But I stopped eating starseeds. Eventually." He finished with a lopsided shrug and a pull of wine.

"So, rehab any other way — I don't. Really. Know what that's like." Eion looked at Trey and blinked. "Appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

Well. Now that that was out of the way —