hadriel | ✘ Round 3

[If Glacius knew what was running through Carlisle's head, he'd scoff. He's not the one that needs to redeem himself in the ice alien's eyes; amends would need to be made between both sides in order for he and his wrongdoer to repair whatever it is that they had, but he's not the scum who acted out in such a flagrantly cruel manner. Carlisle has apologized too long for the hateful prejudices of others. It's unforgivable, really, but as he'd just said the clergyman is a much better person than the wretch that put him through this, so he wouldn't be surprised to hear he wanted to make the effort.

In any case, the ice alien's attention is momentarily diverted as Carlisle offers up that quiet but earnest sentiment. His expression shifts slightly--still sad on behalf of his partner's suffering, but tinged with affection and appreciation.] ... Lucky me, [Glacius rumbles out, continuing to caress the human.] Of all the beings in this cave, I ended up with the one with the best heart.

[Carlisle smiles, but what he offers Glacius is a facade the alien -- the being who knows him better and more intimately than anyone -- can no doubt see through; it's the look of one putting on a brave air rather than true belief, and it fades far quicker than any genuine grin would.]

Thank you, Glacius. [That much is honest.] I'll be fine for now. [And that part, probably not.] I should... perhaps collect myself.

[And see through it the ice alien does--he simply shakes his head, not angry with Carlisle, only sad.] Still you are dishonest with me. You have been wallowing in your own misery and drinking yourself into a stupor for days, Carlisle--no one recovers from that with just a few exchanged words. Why are you so afraid of asking me to help you? Do you think it is easy for me to see you like this? Lean on me as you regather your strength... there is no shame in it.

[Down those dulled eyes of his go to his hand, and to the bottle that resides there. They don't have anywhere else to go.]

I'd rather you didn't see me like this. I'd rather you see me at my best, and reserve days like this for the company of alcohol. It does a fine job numbing my thoughts for now, and saves you the trouble of dealing with them.

[Says the guy sitting in his closet.]

I know that's not what you want to hear.

[He's lucid enough to know that, which means he hasn't drunk as much as he'd like.]

Haven't I already told you that I want to be here for you to celebrate your best and to shoulder you through your worst? That is what a partner does, Carlisle. They don't leave the one that they care for to face their burdens alone--or run from them, in your case. That alcohol isn't helping you deal with anything, and it's not saving me any trouble either-- all it is doing is making you tired and sick.

[Glacius pauses, scrutinizing the collection of bottles that have not only been brought into the closet, but scattered around the entirety of the bedroom. He takes in the clergyman's bedraggled appearance, the utter misery that he's been allwoing himself to wallow in for days now... and he realizes that he has let this self-harming behavior go on for long enough. Not just since the day Carlisle walked in the door distraught after the loss of his garden, but ever since he dragged the clergyman back to his apartment so long ago in the wake of his meeting with Algidus. He wanted to respect his partner's privacy, and he hates to come off as controlling... but letting this go on even a moment longer is the worst thing he could do for the Carlisle right now. Having arrived at his decision, Glacius heaves another sigh, then levels a gaze at the clergyman even though he isn't meeting his eyes.] So I know this isn't what you want to hear, but it is time we address this problem. I won't allow you to poison yourself any longer, Carlisle.

[Glacius is right: that is exactly what Carlisle doesn't want to hear. The rest he can concede, but his poor choice of coping mechanisms is much harder.]

It isn't poison, Glacius. [Not yet, anyway.] Poison would kill me far quicker than imbibing ever will.

Edited 2017-03-05 11:24 (UTC)

[Coping? That's what he's calling this? Glacius simply gives a disbelieving snort, as if he can't believe that rebuttal is supposed to discourage him.] Oh, that's very comforting. What would you call it, then? It numbs your mind, weakens your body, sometimes even leaves you violently ill. Worse than all of that, it turns you into an entirely different person from that man that I know--it strips you of your upright and kind composure and leaves you miserable, disheveled, volatile. [Just because he can take your outbursts doesn't mean he enjoys them, Carlisle. They hurt more than he's letting on.]

... But I know that the person that I care about so deeply is still in there, somewhere. You are strong enough to face your problems, not attempt to drown them so utterly ineffectually.

[He scoffs -- a different person indeed, as he'd normally work to soothe any injury made to Glacius, even those more emotional than physical.]

I'd rather drown them. At least In that, and in this supposed transformation, I am given respite from my thoughts for a time.

[That scoff is enough that Glacius looks bitten, but only for a moment before he masks it behind a stern gaze. One way or another, he's seeing an end to this, he was just hoping his partner would go with it voluntarily. He doesn't want to have to treat him like a child.] For a time. How is that working for you? Do you feel any better? Clearly not, or you would not be hiding in this closet--you're not giving yourself respite, only avoidance. There is a difference, even if you're too drunk to see it now... no matter how much you run, your problems will continue to catch up to you unless you learn to properly address them.

Edited 2017-03-05 18:06 (UTC)

Yes, because every time I've addressed a problem, that has worked out wonderfully for me, hasn't it?

[He's too inebriated and embittered to think of times when things did go well. It's so much easier to focus on his misery.]

I don't want to address them, Glacius. I don't want to think about them. I don't want to think about anything.

[And the fact that he still is means he's not drunk enough. Having another swig now.]

[No he's not--the second Glacius sees him starting to lift the glass to his lips his hand snaps down to snare his wrist, keeping it from budging even an inch.] Yes, at times it has! Certainly better than this, which isn't working at all--you're completely nonfunctional, and you're still just as plagued by misery was you were before you started this behavior. And as for not wanting to think about anything, good luck with that--no matter how much you try to drown your problems, they are going to keep bubbling right back up to the surface when you've weakened yourself so drastically.

Meanwhile if you actually let yourself feel what you need to, and allow yourself to be open about what you've been through with the people that you trust, it gives your heart time to process the hurt and encourages your mind beginning to work through it. That is what coping is, Carlisle, not trying to deaden your mind from everything. Why are you choosing misery over healing? Why is this toxic addiction so important to you?!

Because it's what I know!

[Carlisle wrenches his hand to pull it from Glacius' grasp as he loses his temper. A cacophony pours from him, his unfocused eyes darting to and from his alien partner throughout.]

Because I can't taint it like I taint everything else I touch! Everything good I have will get taken from me eventually no matter what I do, so why face it? Why face anything?! My garden is lost, another friend turns against me, and I'd rather deal with this in my own than—

[And he stops suddenly, his eyes brimming with hot, angry tears.]

Than risk—

[His hand with the bottle shakes. He might be stubbornly denying that the drink isn't helping, might not realize how little sense his defense makes in reality, but he's sure his mind isn't deadened enough if he can still think of losing Glacius.]

Edited 2017-03-05 20:40 (UTC)

But it's not all you know, [Glacius insists, still even despite the fact that Carlisle is unleashing his temper on him again,] not anymore. You have known kindness, understanding, and support... that is what you should be clinging to in times like this, not old toxic behaviors that you learned when you had to shoulder everything alone. Don't you see, Carlisle? You aren't alone any more. I'm here, and I'm going to stay here whether you want me to or not... at least until you're feeling better. [Then, if the human still wants him gone, he will have to honor that request.]

[Those sullen thoughts cloud his already foggy mind, poisoning him from within. Glacius is there, but for how long? How long will it be until he is pushed away?

Carlisle's thoughts aren't so slowed that he can't answer that himself: he's tried to push the alien away, and failed. Glacius won't hear reason, no matter how much better he could do than a drunken clergyman.

How long until he leaves, then?

Carlisle can answer that, too. Glacius just said he wouldn't. They pledged themselves to one another, confessed what they felt under the illusionary stars, embraced each other as lovers that day in the snow. Glacius is an honorable being, unlike him, and knows well enough that Carlisle doesn't want him to leave.

Then how long will it be until he is taken away?

That's one Carlisle couldn't answer even if he wasn't intoxicated. That's the kind of question that drives him to drink in the first place, yet no amount of liquor will give him solace. It will happen eventually -- it is a matter of when, and how they spend what time they do have together. He slumps, weary, his voice somber as he mumbles a reply:]

I ssstill think you have made a mistake.

And I know that I haven't. You haven't had anyone to rely on in a long time, Carlisle... I understand that, and I understand that it can be hard to adjust to. It can even probably be hard to allow yourself such a thing, given what I know about the prejudices you have faced and how they have shaped your perceptions of yourself and what you deserve. But you do deserve this--you do deserve me, not cruel acts of retaliation or isolation, and you will be better for it in the long run if you make the attempt to believe such a thing.

[The alien heaves a sad little sigh, lowering a head to try and regard the clergyman's face despite the way he's slumping. He's not entirely sure about the answer to this next question given his partner's behavior over the past couple of days and the verbal lashing he just received, but if he's just told Carlisle to believe in what they have then he'd better try to do the same.] After all... am I not better company than all these bottles you've been holing yourself up with?

[Carlisle gives another sad laugh, though his eyes hold no humor whatsoever, both of them still unfocused, still misty.]

You can certainly hold a better conversssation.

[Glacius gives him a slight look like he's not sure if that's supposed to make him feel better... then just shakes his head.] I suppose I have to take what I can get. [And now, since Carlisle seems to be gradually wearing out, he shifts his grip from the clergyman's wrist to the neck of the bottle he's holding, seeing if he'll let it be taken from his grasp.]

[There's a second where Carlisle seems like he isn't going to let the bottle go, but he finally does relinquish it, bringing both of his hands to his face. He pushes his glasses atop his head, his body shaking as he chokes on the lump in his throat.

And then come the apologies. Two, four, seven, what sounds like an eighth half-sputtered, not a single reason for them given. Maybe he's sorry for Glacius having to deal with him; maybe he's sorry for snapping at the alien at all. Perhaps he's sorry he doubted Glacius, pushed him away, that his garden burned, that he exists, or that he's crying in the first place. Some proper Longinmouth he is.]

[Glacius is surprised but pleased when Carlisle releases allows him to take the bottle, and starts to turn to place it well out of the closet--but then he hears those quiet choking sounds and they seize his complete attention. He whirls back to face the clergyman--just barely avoiding whacking the side of his face on the narrow doorframe that he's only partially stuffed himself into--just in time for the apologies to start spilling forth... and he has no idea what to do to stem them.

At least he's had a bit of practice with this sort of thing, given that Carlisle has broken down a few times in his presence before. The ice alien attempts to stuff himself into the closet one more time, gives a low growl when it still clearly is not going to work--and then shifts, his body melting down into a giant puddle that creeps its way inside the closet to be with the clergyman. He can't reform entirely--there's really not enough space in here--so when he reverts it's only parts of him that are partially formed, other bits still little more than frozen liquid that coat the floor and walls... but maybe that works out just as well, here. Carlisle can probably feel the cold of the bizarrely-shifted alien underneath him, right beside him--his partner is literally all around him as his face and neck reform, the better to nuzzle up against him as he murmurs soothing condolences to the distraught human.] Ssh, it's okay, it's alright. Get it out--you're doing good, Carlisle, and I am here. I'll always be here, no matter what.

Edited 2017-03-06 00:49 (UTC)

[Carlisle can indeed feel the cold all around him, and the nuzzle at his side startles him enough that he draws his head from his hands, nearly knocking his glasses off his forehead in the process. He stares at Glacius' reformed head for a second, catching his breath, before he wraps his arms around his partner's neck, clinging to him for stability, as though he'd drown without his support.

For all he knows, perhaps he would. It wouldn't be the first time he was afraid of such a fate being spurned by a fit of alcohol-fueled depression. The movement of the river always did threaten to draw him in.

He shudders as he exhales against the icy warrior, his shoulders folding inward, fingers curling as he seeks refuge in the one place he has left: with his partner. His garden is gone; where else can he go?]

[Glacius exhales as Carlisle's arms wrap so tightly around his neck, always wary of contact around his respiratory organs and gill arches... but even as far gone as his partner is, the alien trusts him not to do any physical harm. The alien coughs once as he attempts to draw air despite how the human's surprisingly strong grip, then with what breath he's managed to gather, utters a consoling chirrup. He doesn't seem to think that the clergyman should go anywhere else; he'd prefer him to stay right here, where he can offer himself as both physical and emotional support, riding out the shaking and shuddering of his partner's body as he tries his best to console him.]

[It takes several minutes for Carlisle to calm down, to stop shaking and coughing and murmuring to himself. The entire time, while his grip around his partner's neck is careful, he doesn't let go even for a moment.

Finally, his tenacious embrace relaxes, his hands slipping to the sides of Glacius' face. Though he seems to have found some modicum of his composure, his trembling continues -- it's not from his outburst, but from the cold.]

It mattered so much to me, Glacius. For brief moments there, I felt like I was home.

[Sorry about the chill, Carlisle--but he wasn't about to stay stuck on the other side of that closet while you had a breakdown, and he's not about to move away now with his face tenderly held in your grasp like that. He'll have to endure the cold for a little while longer at least--but hopefully it's worth the proximity of his partner.

For now, the concern remains as strong in the alien's face as ever, his brows furrowed and his features knit with sorrow and worry for his friend and partner.] When? In... what way? I know you have both... good and bad memories of your home.

[It is worth bearing the cold, if the way Carlisle doesn't move says anything.]

Good. My garden back home was the only place I could go s- sssometimes to collect myself. No one else there. Just... quiet, even from my own thoughts, it seemed. Even before my uncles vanished, I spent a lot of time there. They- my plants depended on me.

[Much as the people of Bear Den did on his family. He failed them both.]

Edited 2017-03-06 11:49 (UTC)

Oh, Carlisle... I am so sorry. [Glacius murmurs this, his tone as empathetic as can be. That slow-burning anger at whoever did this to the clergyman, striking out against him in such a personal and hurtful manner, is no less present... but he knows that's not going to help his partner recover. He needs to focus on consolation first and foremost... the time for seeking out that scum and setting things right will come later, he tells himself.] I know how you feel. Even though the landscape was all wrong, seeing the world before me blanketed in snow... it was enough to make me feel like I was back on my homeworld, even if just for a few brief moments. Losing that was so difficult for me. [As Carlisle could no doubt tell, based on the melancholy that settled in to his partner when it all began to melt away.] I can only imagine how much this must hurt you, given how much time you spent in your garden while you were here, and how much work you put into cultivating it. You did such a good job.

[He pauses, then cranes his head forward to nuzzle comfortingly against the clergyman without jostling his hands from the side of his face.] But if you were able to grow all that from so little, perhaps it can be done again. You have some plants in the park still, correct? And a few growing in pots around this apartment? Will they bear seeds and snippings that we can use to restart a new garden?

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