Welcome to Gaia! ::

Prehnite was out of breath as he tucked around a corner and moved at speed down a particularly filthy looking alley. A scream of sirens blaring past, in what he hoped would continue to be the opposite direction. His general shakiness a testament to his lapse in judgement of trying to take on so many new tasks after only just returning. The continued disuse of his abilities had brought him little reward. He could have dropped the guise entirely, could have simply teleported away, but he needed the practice, and he wanted this to be the sort of night he’d feel in the morning; whether that feeling manifested into regrettable exhaustion or joyous pride - it was a price worth paying.

The continued blaring of noise made him cautious that he’d been far too bold already, and drove him to skirt a path to the rooftops further out, towards the edges of the city proper. Wanting to create distance lest he bring on far more trouble than he was ready to handle just yet. Not that it seemed to matter, be it fate or chance, he wasn’t nearly as far out as he would have liked to be when a familiar, albeit more intense aura, forced him to slow his pace and pay attention. The familiarity akin to a sense memory - like feeling the heat roiling off a blacktop and knowing from experience that it was to hot to touch - strong enough that he had to pause and stare for a moment.

Whether it’d been the tea house, the rift, or the castle. It was always fire and brimstone, fraught with chaos, and topped right the hell off with a generous scoop of bedlam. It was eerie almost, even a touch unsettling, catching sight of those bright fiery braids in a setting that could nearly be defined as ‘normal’. Certainly something he was unaccustomed to with his brief, but memorable encounters with the corrupt senshi - now an eternal - and oh how Prehnite wondered if the rank up was treating him well? If life had finally started treating anyone caught as one of the cogs in the ever churning machine that was their cause well?

Maybe he could ask?

Prehnite couldn’t recall having ever had a decent conversation with Ochre. A little distraction wouldn’t hinder his overall goals for the night. It’d be prudent even, to do something productive while he took a moment and let the heat die down…Prehnite assured himself of it, even as he moved to make himself noticeable to the other.

Certainly they didn't know each other in the biblical sense and hadn't shared so much as a a cup of coffee, but still...

Prehnite raised his hand and returned the wave "Technically?" he shouted in turn, before he picked his way out of the shadows and across the battered rooftops. Careful of his footing till he was close enough to be heard without shouting. Prehnite couldn't help his wary gaze and wane smile while he briefly scanned the derelict surroundings. Wanting to be cautious no matter how still the respective area seemed.

"Though I believe the last time we met, I was still a Lieutenant." and how long ago had that been? It seemed a veritable age, he couldn't blame the Senshi if he didn't remember him. He couldn't even begin to recall if they'd actually exchanged titles with each other in the chaos of it all, or if he'd simply overheard it at some ceremony or another, maybe even in a passing conversation with another agent.

"In fact? If I recall correctly, I owe you quite a bit...." pausing just enough to get a good look at him. To take in all the changes. Settle himself with the oddness of being in the presence of an Eternal, without worry of whether or not he'd have to fight or flee..."How are you doing Ochre?"

Prehnite wondered if he was overreaching. Intruding like this on the senshi's night, out of some desperate hope for interaction with a familiar enough face. Everything in the world had grown so much, so rapidly, that he wanted to cling to tatters of the past.

Like chasing ghosts.

"It's fine. I imagine after enough time passes, every rock, mineral and gem variant just blend." It had to have been years, and it was entirely possible that Prehnite only remembered Ochre so well because he was one of the few corrupted Senshi he'd ever met. The only one that seemed remotely sane or rational at least, and that was truly saying something. Though it also helped immensely that the man had saved him from being someone else's snack.

"It's Prehnite though, just in case you ever need to call in a favor I supposedly don't owe you." Sincerity etched into his tone, because Prehnite felt his life should have been worth at least a favor or two. Especially because Prehnite was tired of aimless devotion to the faceless void filled 'all'. If he could do anything for someone, instead of doing everything for 'something', even just once..

Prehnite managed a smile in turn, glad he'd not managed to interrupt Ochre in the middle of anything important.

"Honestly? I'm existing, or at least making a solid try at it." a hair above surviving and a shade below living. Aiming to fix that, and increasingly finding reasons to sympathize with the likes of Sisyphus in the process. The weariness that came with wanting, the joy at getting close enough, before everything rolled right back over him, and he'd have to climb up from the bottom. Except it was all internal and the only boulder was himself, an eternal pushing of self.

"You know...If your night really isn't going anywhere, maybe we could change that?" and Prehnite wondered if his own asking was because he was bored of hunting alone, or just bored of being alone. He didn't want to deal with any new lieutenants, nor with anyone above him who had any true authority.

There was enough work of that sort waiting for him at home, and with the academy. "Not that I'm not going to insinuate I'm less lame than doing nothing at all, but..." Prehnite shrugged lackadaisically, left the statement open ended to be agreed to or refused. No pressure.

It was a less than stellar part of town, with less than aspiring prospects. There were bars though. They could have simply been people for a moment, having a conversation. If one ignored all the magical flair and rooftop scenery.

Strickenized

[size11]Prehnite could have absolutely used an ear, and was more than happy to lend one in turn. To take time listening to someone who had something worth saying. Prehnite had nothing but time to spare, almost too much of it. However busy his life outside of their cause may have been, it was never busy enough..

More accurately, it wasn't busy enough in any of the right ways, nothing that had led to true satisfaction, or dredged up more than the briefest moment of meaningfulness. "That sounds fine. Luckily, I'm not overtly picky about décor." Prehnite could be a snob about his own life, but he wasn't about to loose his collective marbles over an establishment he could disappear in. As rare as that was to find somewhere to hide. As rare as that had to be for anyone looking the way they did.

"I'd like that..." and the smile for that stayed. What he would be was immensely grateful, and he'd would find a way to express that gratitude to Ochre in spades. Somehow. Maybe he could buy? No reason for the him to spend his money when it was Prehnites suggestion to do something together."That it was. Its just a little terrifying to me, that no matter how much time passes 'this' seems to stay the same." a dismissive noise as he gestured to himself. The guise, the job, their system. Long nights, longer days, and no matter how much he aged outside of it - it almost didn't seem to show when he was Prehnite. "Letsee..." and he could find something not absolutely awful to start on "I got promoted to Captain, finished my Bachelors, and took up teaching at St. Romanos for a time. Technically...I'm still on as faculty advisement until I return." and the scathing quotations for that were heavily implied "I don't believe that quitting gracefully is going to be an option." There, those were all mostly positive statements.

Prehnite trailed along carefully behind Ochre. Mindful of his step. The Senshi really did have very elegant - everything. Idly he wondered how much of it was real, hair color, eyes. He couldn't think of anyone he knew within the Negaverse that he simultaneously knew outside of it. Not since before...and it'd been so long that he wasn't sure they even still lived in the city.

Prehnite marveled at all the subtle and major differences between Ochre and Slate. He often forgot that underneath all the glow and glamour, they were people. Truthfully Prehnite struggled to remember the last time he’d engaged with a person outside of it all, the last time it’d meant something…

Maybe that explained why he lived alone in his own home? How often had he severed pieces of his life like dead limbs from a tree. Pruned out everything else until he’d become work and drudgery personified. A macabre and disfigured visage of ‘functional’, that left no room for anything outside of the Negaverse?

Prehnite had always been so careful with his personal identity. Spurred to do so by a myriad of unfounded fears. All of which revolved around not knowing if he could trust the person he’d fight and die beside. He felt that he and Ochre had long ago crossed that threshold. Which made it a little easier to slip the leash of Prehnite and simply be himself. The only poisonously purple shade that remained on his body was his nearly cropped hair. The rest was far more demure, like he’d fallen into an old navy store and then attempted to blend in amongst the be-khakied manikins.

Reed could only agree. Parents were weird, unnecessarily so…“Slate. I think it’s infinitely better than Reynard - which makes me sound so pretentious, that I want to punch myself in the face.” A soft chuckle for that as he followed Slate out of the alleyway.

“So, if you’ll call me Reed?” Reed had always enjoyed the nickname. It was less punchable, more earthy. Most importantly it was his.

Reed nodded intermittently, humming something like acquiescance as Slate spoke. He was admittedly right, they were all good things, and he should have been proud of them, felt accomplished. Instead he felt robbed, shunted like cattle into an expected chute - only stalling the inevitable slaughter with his occasional cowardice and penchant for finding timely escape routes. It was encouraging that Slate seemed happy for him. Like Reed had managed to carve himself some semblance of an out.

“That seems to be what they keep telling us, isn’t it? I don’t think I agree.” The unexpected flicker of rage on the others behalf. It shouldn’t have been expected - none of it - their universal baseline for being ‘good’ or ‘ok’ - Should not have been dependent on outlasting their peers. On living longer out of sheer luck or skill.

*Congratulations on not being deceased, here’s your tenth medal and a shiny new promotion!*

Reed knew there was no point in being cliche - to pantomime empathizing Slates feelings when he had no similar point of context. ‘Sorry for your loss’ and ‘that sounds terrible’ rung hollow in his own mind. He’d lost, but not a brother. He’d never counted his father’s passing, because there’d been no love there, only coldness.

“I think I do know, and I’m glad your alive too Slate—so glad in fact that I’m going to insist on buying us enough drinks, that neither of us have to be okay with nothing being okay….” Reed might buy out the whole of the bar if that was what it took; what was a little cirrhosis between friends? It’d make reminiscing easier, it’d make talking easier. In some shadow filled sallow corner of anonymity.

“Which, side question…how old are you exactly?”

Strickenized

"It has aesthetic." the place was the textbook definition of 'hole in the wall'. His shoes stuck to the floor in places, squelched obscenely, when he moved his feet. The chair felt like it would give out with just a few more years of rust. Reed was smitten, and instantly reminiscent of his time completing his externship in Sao Paulo. Where he'd traded one city for another, where he was allowed to behave however he pleased - to a reasonable extent. So long as he showed up on time and completed his work. It didn't matter if he was half hung over, or that his living accommodations were little more than a cot with a cubby and three other people.

Everyone working those hours and studying lived the same way. It was a cultural experience, he didn't need to look good, or present himself a certain way to people who had higher expectations of him than he could ever imagine to meet. He knew within two years he'd never see any of these people again, no risk, infinite reward.

"You look young is all, but I suppose we all do? I'm 25 now." Reed hadn't "It's not that age is important it's just..." the exhausted sigh he held for that, leaving his hands in his lap where it seemed safest. The table looked like it held its own ecosystem. "I swear. Everyone I'm surrounded by is so young, not that I'm old by any measure, but dealing with them makes me feel ancient?" every new recruit and lieutenant. Every new child, and those slated to be funneled into the system - sometimes seeing their ever changing faces just -

A brief flashbulb of an image, of a fallen child Enemy, Reed snorted derisively and shook the thought free, skirting long pale fingers through lilac strands as he eyed the bar tender with interest, before his gaze swept to the bottle laden wall behind him.

"Don't judge me for this, but I adore cheap swill vodka. Apparently I have a high tolerance for it." every other man Reed had met, they lauded praise for whiskies and brandies. He'd never cared for them though, after the one time they'd made him sick enough that he'd vomited back into the drink he'd been handed. Though that could have been a combination of quite a few things.

"True story. Once, me and the other students took up with an eco group out to this town called Vigia, there was some sort of attraction or festival. Everyone insisted there were 'beings' spotted there. They were those sorts of enthusiasts who - and I kid you not - made statements like 'well if you believe in science'." Reed rolled his eyes skywards, it'd taken all of his will power not to start an argument with the locals, and some of the other tourists.

"Personally, I believe it was the quality of weed and too many mixed drinks that had these people seeing things, but I digress. There was this couple who - after hours of plying us with alcohol tried to convince me and my friends into a fivesome." Back then Reed never turned down free drinks, which made the couples increased unease and confusion all the more hilarious, like they thought he was an alien himself, managing to hold his liquor the way he had. "Six shots in, I was still saying no thank you, with the most westernized accent I could manage. Insisting I was flattered, but uninterested. It didn't help that we'd all started drinking by eight that morning, and it was well past midnight at that point." The key was water, even if it was shoddy water, and sticking to clear alcohol only. He'd learned that lesson the hard way where so many of the others hadn't. It was glorious to watch them wake to the blaring sun the next morning. Soaked through and miserable from the nearly 80% humidity, cursing the ground they'd slept on as they haggardly made their way back to the nearest transport to real civilization.

"So, cheap? Cheap is fine. Free is fine, I'm only being insistent on paying because...I don't know...Let me buy you at least one round and then I'll drop it" A soft plea for that. Reed didn't know why he felt so insistent on owing Slate something. Even if it was something small. He wasn't trying to put the man on the spot, it just felt like the right thing to do.

Strickenized

"Good" fingers steepled beneath his chin briefly as he leaned his elbows on the edge of the table and rest it there, a tilt of his head while he listened.

"Its in Brazil, south of Sao Paulo actually. You need to try it sometimes, leaving here." a twirl of fingers to indicate the whole concept of the city. It was a shame so many people who ended up in Destiny city, either by birth or chance, never managed to leave it.

A good large grouping of them never even lived long enough to leave it. Reed was tempted even to offer to take Ochre with him the next time he went - and there would be a next time - his stints in the city never lasted, not after he'd lost all real sense of an anchor to hold him there.

"There's more than just what insanity this place has to offer...Though I suppose you're right, there's little out there that can compare to a whole world war going on quietly beneath a city, is there?" and Reed scanned the menu briefly as he spoke, ignored it largely in favor of the drinks that were the focus of his purview.

If he got drunk enough he'd eat, it always went that way, ask for something salty and water, pretzels maybe, but mostly he just wanted the vodka. "I've never met another Cinnabar out in the wilds of the world, or Scholomance." the grin for that because oddly enough, he missed them, however brief the interactions had been, they'd stuck. strange. Well enough surely that no matter how often he left the city, he never managed to stay gone.

"You live around here then I assume?" the question soft and unobtrusive, and Slate didn't need to answer because Reed wasn't trying to pry, simply aiming at small talk while he watched the bartended dig about unhurriedly.

A soft nod in understanding of, fingers laced beneath his resting chin as he met Slates gaze. Sympathy etched in the lines and shadows around his eyes. He really did understand. Surprised to hear those feelings of anxious entrapment echoed by someone else.

Empathized.

The knowledge that even when someone escaped - A vacation, an outing, a trip to the other side of the goddamned world. How there was no true escape; endless tethers and thin hooks that dragged him back time and again. The lingering thought in the back of his mind that he was being derelict in some ways, all ways - always. The complacency inherent in it all, and Reed had to acknowledge he'd become complacent. Easier to rest in the rut of it all than to put in any real effort claw out some sort of change.

No, it was better to take small breaks - create imagined ease of the burdens chaos had written into his life. Poured into his form. Then to seek an upheaval of everything and just - what - quit? Why bother?

His fingers clenched slightly, belied a wince at hearing Slate speak. The thought of the Senshi wandering about in a home of ghosts. A Negaverse owned mausoleum which housed their living as much as it housed their dead. Little boxes waiting to be filled with new bodies, stacked over the shambling old.

Being occasionally removed from it all, he so often forgot how strung through the whole of the city the organization was. Inescapable. The ever expanding network of spiders and webs. If he'd been new to the feeling his skin would've crawled with the possibility at being watched all places, even where he sat; as it was? More a pervasive numbness that felt like like an errant itch to be shrugged off.

"They have their claws in everything, don't they? A well oiled conglomeration." prim sneer for the rhetorical statement. Normally he would've admired the effectiveness of the agency, if only he'd had the energy for it.

The background noise of conversations, clinks and sloshes of liquid that soothed rather than rankled with how comparably normal it all was. How normal it made having a conversation feel.

"It can't be pleasant to be left to caretake all of that on your own. Though I'm sure she's well and that when she returns she'll thank you, but..." feelings, apartments, aloneness. "We could you know - that is to say - Travel. Locally, abroad? I've the means, if ever the urge arises. You don't have to...linger." to 'Be Alone' is what he meant to say; in his grief, in his waiting for change or word to come to him. Except that Reed wasn't sure if he was projecting or not. He'd never had something so close as a brother to lose; but a distant deceased father, an absentee mother, his friends.