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 Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:46 pm
“I’m already not making it to a meditatif’ state of emptiness…” Alois mumbled to himself.
“
The breath against his neck felt welcome. “Denial of other options is part of the fun.” The prospect of a Negaverse-bound reversal of his situation likely amounted to a more thorough and quicker fix than anything offered through the White Moon. The Negaverse plainly boasted more power than a coalition of individuals who lacked any sort of governing body behind their power. Despite the plain revulsion regarding his current condition, the Negaverse saw fit to leave him warped into a figure half man and half youma, whether for purposes of teaching him a lesson or for example or otherwise. “It is a strange life, Quenton. I don’t want to imagine you as a general. Chaos may act as reversal to your intended outcome, too - some lose control of all thought and emotion under its sway.
“Hopefully I can render it tempting to deny other ways.”
I know I don’t weigh much more with wings, but now you’re just showing off. Alois considered Quenton’s backside from where he sat, absently preening through a few feathers without looking. Sadly the view lasted but a few minutes before Quenton returned with lounge pants of an uninteresting plaid pattern. Still, they looked far warmer and less troublesome than the tattered general’s uniform he constantly wore. They slipped on easily enough without extraneous youma decorations to impede their progress.
“I hope you brought something good. Something sweet.” Really anything would suffice, but sugar on the tongue sounded a special treat for the eve. Quenton never lacked in thoughtfulness - they proved opposites in that way, both consistently thoughtful but Alois doling out coarseness in exchange for Quenton’s kindness. He headed toward the bag where Quenton retrieved his own supplies, passing the blonde along the way, a wing slipped out at the last minute to catch the man’s arm in feathers and fluff.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:46 pm
“A general? Wouldn’t I be brought in as some lower rank? Like the people running around with sprinkler heads and pillowcases as implements of destruction? Expected to follow your orders with military aplomb for a few years until I eventually earned enough kills and lost enough free will to earn the General rank? Sounds like an illicit roleplay for behind closed doors.”
The waiting food was a mix of savory and sweet - nestled in wax paper and deli paper wrapping was a dense loaf of dessert-looking bread. Banana Bread modified to include almond powder for protein and an accompanying blend of maple cinnamon butter to put on it in a small tupperware with a packed butter knife. With the time spent bathing the butter was spreadable. There were also a pair of cans of some organic, pressed apple and sparkling water beverage.
Quenton distinctly Did Not React to the feather inundation before managing to sit cross-legged with the shirt and implements- getting to the business of cutting away the back of it while leaving strips to use for cross ties between wings like a strange sort of loose corset. With royal senshi having wings as well, really some fashion student should just make a whole line of wing-allowing tops. Fleece was a little tricky to cut through in a straight line, but his jeweling sheers were sharp enough for the task. Then it was to sewing the edges for a quick structural reinforcement so the piece could last more than a few months if it didn’t get sacrificed to tar first. Or some other agent attacking. He looked up between stitches to watch Alois, enjoying that the clothes at least fit. Maybe too well in ways, being meant to be women’s hugging smalls. They didn’t hug. But the fleecey pants did do nice things for hips and illiac lines that weren’t traditionally considered a man’s point of beauty compared to shoulders and abs. This might be as soft as Alois ever gets, swathed in winter fleeces.
“Alright. Let’s try this on you.” He held out the finished shirt….thneed….thing.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:47 pm
“Yes, you’d be a lackey - some captain’s b***h until you learned the ropes. You would spend the majority of your term as a lieutenant stealing energy from those unaware of your nefarious intents, turn that into your higher ups and hope that you get credit for your hard work, and then dutifully and mindlessly adhere to their declarations until they see fit to promote you. Repeat all of that with the added bonus of a legitimate weapon and combat against the White Moon, and maybe your own flunkie to toss under a bus whenever nothing goes your way. Lastly you get to the rank of General when you’re stupid and deluded enough to think that Metallia is some form of god, or other principle that you worship in equal fervor. Plainly, I was thinking ahead.” He busied himself with picking through the bag to pilfer the edible contents, never disappointed with the offerings Quenton continually supplied.
The bread thankfully came sliced, the smell of it striking him almost immediately. Anticipation caused his mouth to water. Using utensils of any sort proved tricky even now, so many months after his hands received alteration. Initially he took the knife in both hands, pinched at both edges of the handle, before he carefully slid the butt of the knife into the crook formed by webbing between forefinger and thumb. It felt like some sort of surgical exercise, really, that ended with the knife carefully pinched against the heel of his hand and poised between finger pads in hopes that his claws might not interfere. Or that tar wouldn’t flow from frustration.
And to make matters worse, the butter looked good enough to eat on its own.
Alois glanced over his shoulder with a grunt at the declaration of trying the new(ly shredded) shirt on him. He spoke only as long as he buttered the slice of bread. “Alright, then get over here. I’m not going to stop eating.” To prove his point, he remained obstinately in his place while he scarfed as much of the bread as he could without choking. A difficult practice, but an enriching one.
He managed a few slices before he slowed down to more human pacing. If nothing else, I’m thankful that there aren’t any mirrors in here. I can’t imagine how obscenely stupid it might look to view a general dressed in pajamas. I suspect he doesn’t expect me to keep these clean - while quality, they’re relatively cheap.
“I will never stop being glad that you can think ahead,” he mumbled to himself.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:47 pm
"Eating so fast is a problem." As was quantity. Both were points he'd mentioned in warning to Alois time and time again. This likely wasn't the last time either. As much as Quenton himself worked to rule his instincts, Alois seemed to push and force his body into situations where it could be nothing but subservient to them without ever having gone through conditioning to master them in the first place. It was a odd opposition of purposes.
Quenton got up retrieving one of the regular waste bins in some ghost of 'planning ahead' still, setting it down next to the ravening vulture that loomed over the bread-kill and butter innards. "In case your stomach agrees with me. "
“Arms out so that I can get this on you.” Even one arm at a time would do, sleeve by sleeve, then standing behind him to tie the ribbons of fleece and secure it. A few pets as Quenton stepped close to check the fit. “Warm enough?”
He picked up his own clothes to hang near the heaters in hopes that they would have a chance to dry and not have to be worn home sopping.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:48 pm
The queasiness churning after his overdose on calories in the span of a few short minutes confirmed Quenton’s better judgment. Alois sighed through his nose, eyes half-lidded as he regarded the sculptor in a look of ‘why do you always have to be right’. “I’ll have you know that I’ve managed to avoid throwing up all week.” However, a surge of nausea gave him reason to pause in consumption, and extended arms accordingly to assist with the shirt.
He never considered such a phenomenon before, but the feel of fabric against his chest, nipples in particular, felt agitating and unusual. For a few moments afterward he rolled his shoulders and twisted around somewhat to test how the cloth felt against his skin, slowly acclimating himself to the presence of an actual shirt once more. The final test came when he flexed and ruffled wings to measure the flexibility allowed by Quenton’s hackneyed creation. So far, he hadn’t encountered any problems.
With the pets came the reactionary lean against the sculptor, with Alois reaching back to check if Quenton had at all dressed during that time. Pleasant realization came as a no. I’ve never teleported anyone by the a** before. Though I doubt there are too many college attendees that dress in such distressed clothing… If they found his clothes in there along with this mess, he’ll probably incur a few citations for breaking and entering. Or they’d revoke his privilege to TA.
“You know, eating too quickly might work to our advantage. I could throw up all over your face, for example, and we’d have firsthand test of your pathogen response. Have you been keeping up with that, Quincy? We could abscond with a body and go back to the dissection amphitheater to find out.” The hours spent in that lecture offered favored memories for the creature, easily recalled at the scent of sandalwood or soured formaldehyde.
“I missed you, you know.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:49 pm
“You….could.” Quenton looked over, lifting an eyebrow. “I would prefer if you didn’t. Applicability of pathogen response reactions is one thing, just being gross for the sake of it is another. Your bile would smell foul, might burn, but it isn’t much of a source of sickness compared to bodies as you say. Housewives and mothers get to clean vomit, bowel leavings and urine all the time from their children. It isn’t much of a test anymore. “
“Stabbing you has been the worst of the tests so far. I’ve been considering what, if anything, tops that. I’ve kept up with meditations. Much of current effort is solidifying foundations right now- I could probably sit and light myself on fire. The challenge would be staying perfectly still and not choking during suffocation- thats a matter of knowing and feeling each muscle and being able to control it every moment. That’s partly a function of time. Other suggestions are still welcome. “ Quenton picked up the food fixens, folding the things in parcel-pouch to carry back to the ‘bed’. He took Alois’ taloned hand in other, drawing him along.
“Come on. Come lay down. “
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:49 pm
“Don’t light yourself on fire. I’ve done it before. Terrible idea.” Alois offered nothing more on the subject - Quenton already witnessed the burns left behind from that endeavor over the course of many nights spent together. “You’ve come impressively far in a small span of time.” I wonder how much of that is due to my idiocy in decision making… I’ve managed more than a few missteps under the impression that they’d somehow benefit Quenton, or myself. I wonder how much of it actually did.
“The only suggestion I can come up with is intentionally damaging certain muscles - driving several pins into them for example, like those pain fanatics who endure several thousand needles inserted in their bodies.” Alois kept pace with Quenton while he spoke, hand tightening marginally in response to the blonde’s statement of his most difficult trial. “Or you could try your hand at this war - it’s as much an exercise in idiocy as it is in willful masochism.” Surely my experience with it shows as much. Even attempting purification offers its own maddening outcomes. But, apart from it all, at least I glean these small windows of calm between the bleak days spent in constant paranoia.
“Sit. Sit, sit.” Alois allowed no objections and instead applied pressure to Quenton’s shoulders, enough to indicate his express interests. Alois himself sat soon afterward, legs drawn up to salvage some heat while the pair lounged near the blankets and heaters. The added heat offered so much more a boon during the digestive process when he often lost most of his body heat. And with Quenton seated, he could rest head on thigh when curling up. Reaching behind, Alois fumbled blindly for one of Quenton’s arms to bring over the creature’s shoulders.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:50 pm
Could try joining the war. Could, have, do. Yes, it is as much a proving ground with sudden horrors and unexpected trials of control. Idiocy not the least of those. Many against you, many dealing with my own ‘allies’. But you’re thinking about it. You brought it up. Maybe not wholly seriously right now, but the seed of threat is there. Is that the overextensions of chaos trying to provide some false reasonings to you how to give you what you want while neutralizing the threat of outside support to you? Or it could just be whatever madness drives you of your own volitions. Fear of change looking for other ways out. I’m deflecting too much blame too often to ‘chaos made you do it’. It allows for a lot, but not everything.
You could put your hand into my chest so quickly. That’s a lot of pain to overcome and act in spite of.
Can a general make a soldier of the Negaverse out of a civilian? Could you do it out of a senshi? I wonder what would happen. Maybe I’d just end up dead.
Quenton sat, settling in light cuddle and pleasant embracing of his companion. He lightly pressed long strokes along the fleece and thing flesh beneath. The material made Alois eminently pettable. 'Who cares how a jaguar feels?' I suppose I do. And this no more a game than that. But it does make the blood and mind race.
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