hadriel | ✘ Round 3

I would've been fine, Glacius.

[Says the guy who has been sitting in his closet, drunk enough liquor for ten men for a month in the course of a single week, and so often has headaches that the idea of one more from a hangover doesn't even faze him. He'd regret the choice in the morning.

But he does slowly make it to the edge of the bed, sliding his feet over it.]

No, you wouldn't have been. [Glacius replies--despite the fact that his voice is suddenly short, he's still being careful with Carlisle, doesn't hoist him roughly to his feet when they swing over the side of the bed.] I'm getting tired of you treating my endless attempts to help as if they wouldn't make a difference, but moreover I'm getting tired of you attempting to treat this behavior as if it is not problematic or harmful. I can't count the number of times I've heard you wake up after one of your binges only to hack up the contents of your stomach, or to lay groaning in misery as your head pounds. I will suffer nothing that hurts you in any way, including yourself.

Edited 2017-03-08 01:29 (UTC)

[Carlisle puts a hand to his head, starting to wish he'd had another drink already. Then he wouldn't be having this conversation -- he'd be passed out and it'd be put off for another day, perhaps a better one.]

If I wanted to hurt myself, there are far more eff- effeca- effective ways to do it.

[He doesn't make the most reasonable arguments when he's like this; it's something he'd agree with when sober.]

Trust me, this is plenty effective. [After all, constantly spurning the one being who's constantly trying to pick you up, brush you off, and make sure that you make it through everything alright in the end is a pretty hurtful thing to do for all parties involved. That remark is highly concerning, though, and it does serve to soften the alien somewhat. He'd give his partner a slight squeeze if he wasn't so worried about causing him physical discomfort in this state.]

... Anyways, don't say things like that. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, Carlisle. I... I hope you don't think like that often... is there something more that we need to talk about?

We could talk about something other than my methods of dealing with myself.

[Somewhere in him, he realizes how harshly that comes out, and mumbles a few belated apologies before he fills the silence on the way to the kitchen with more words, as is his usual behavior even when not plastered. It's unfortunate that what common sense he usually has inhibiting his melancholic, downward train of thought seems to have been washed away by the alcohol for the time being, leaving someone more cantankerous and honest than he ought to be regarding certain subjects.]

It's not that- that I think like that all the time, mind you. Or often. It's... sometimes. I guess 'often' is fairly accurate, actually. Less often these days than before, but it's not that there aren't options here. It's more that I'm afraid of what comes after, and where that leaves you. You can't- you can't exactly follow me there, and I'd be lonely. Again. And I...

[That train gets derailed somewhere along the way, probably by the iota of shame he has left telling him to can it.] Ah. I was drinking so I wouldn't think like this, wasn't I?

[The apologies couldn't have come at a better time, because even the ice alien--normally so impassive and aloof when it comes to nearly everyone else--is having a hard time dealing with his compassion and concern being constantly thrown back in his face. He watches his partner with a wounded expression as he talks, though whether that's because of his sharp retorts or the morbid thoughts he's confession to now is not entirely clear... likely it is a mixture of both.] I think the drinking is a part of why you are thinking like this. [Glacius notes quietly, somberly--though he's not happy about the behavior at all, as he has already made abundantly clear, he is glad to be getting this moment of insight into his partner's mind.]

I... I'm sorry, Carlisle. I suppose I should have suspected as much, given the terrible losses and prejudices you've had to endure for so much of your life... but I guess it just goes to show that you never really know what someone is going through deep down. I'm glad to here that you don't think about it as often, and I'm glad to hear that I have helped in that... and rest assured, I will continue to do everything that I can to help you stay afloat. To let you know that you are cared for, and supported, and to stand by you so that you can believe that everything will turn out alright in the end. But...

[Glacius sighs, shaking his head, his hearts heavy from this line of thinking.] ... You cannot prop your existence up solely on one being, on one outside force. For now, if it makes it easier, then it is a fine starting point. But you must find a reason and the strength to persist within yourself, bit by bit. [It's healthier for one. But also... as much as the warrior will do everything in his power to always be at Carlisle's side, he knows he cannot guarantee it... the clergyman has a home that he'll surely want to return to when all this is said and done, after all. He can't possibly expect to get in the way of that--and again he feels that conflicting pull between his own world and what he's built up here. Every day, he longs for his people... but he knows that if he woke up one day and couldn't see Carlisle any more, he'd hurt for that, too.]

[Glacius' words echo in his head, and Carlisle stops in the hallway, as though the energy required to walk to the kitchen were better spent on trying to move his thoughts along instead. Whatever quagmire they've gotten stuck in, it clearly affects him: his eyes lock themselves on the wall beside him as they fill with silent tears.]

Of course. Everything must fade eventually, whether by our own hands or the ravages of time. It is in our return to the goddess that we find rest.

[His mind finishes the old scripture: Eternity is found in those removed from her cycle. It is not a gift, but a curse. How appropriate that he would lose everything one day, Glacius included. Perhaps the garden was just the start of what he had coming to him for a lifetime of sin, for existing when he shouldn't.

He shakes his head. That's definitely the kind of thinking that keeps him drinking; it's easier to deal with the consequences of a hangover than with the pressures of his own guilt, both religious and personal.]

I was alone for a long time, Glacius. I will be fine.

[He offers the alien the barest of half-smiles, something clearly conjured to make the him feel better about what might be an outright lie -- Carlisle honestly doesn't know. What he does know is that that's not Glacius' favorite phrase.]

That was- that's not brushing you off, I promise you. That was supposed to be reassuring.

Edited 2017-03-08 03:05 (UTC)

I appreciate you clarifying that. [Glacius responds, because he's honestly not sure he could tell right now. In any case, listening to Carlisle recite scripture from his order is enough to put a smile on his face as he goes about fetching a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water--all one handed, which makes the process slightly more involved than it would normally be. While not an overly religious individual himself, he takes comfort from it in a roundabout way knowing that it's something that provides his partner with guidance, support, and strength.

Of course, he supposes he should also be wary of it given that it is also at least partially responsible for the prejudices the cursed clergyman has to endure. The ice alien clicks, becoming displeased just thinking about it. He'd much rather be Carlisle's primary source of support, for as long as he is able at least.] Well. You may have been alone for a long time, but as I have said, that is your fate no longer. I am glad that you talked to me about this, and I hope that... if you ever have any of those thoughts in the future, you can come to me instead of your liquor. I only wish to help you and see you happy, my partner.

[His religion, unfortunately can provide him as much concern as it does comfort, especially when it comes to the order's teachings regarding the twice-cursed. He accepted long ago that he was damned, but the thought of his ultimate fate bothers him still. Who wouldn't be bothered by such a miserable, inevitable end?]

I know.

[He can come to Glacius until he's gone, at least.]

I will... endeavor to do that in the future, perhaps. Come to you. I wouldn't want to burden you -- not that I don't know that you want to be burdened with my burdens, the way you offer every time I, er... bring them up. I don't know why I don't, um.

[He rubs at his eyes; they're still bleary. So much for that line of thinking.]

[Now that he's got a glass full of water cooling off nicely in his frosty white hand, Glacius steers them back to the bedroom, a rueful little smile on his face as they go.] I think I do. It is because you--like myself--were a very private and closed-off individual before... all of this happened. But it doesn't have to be that way any more--we've built up something better than that together, have supported each other through difficult circumstances many times already. So next time you wonder whether or not you should come to me about something, remember how much better it felt when you have... and remember that I view it as an honor to be able to help you, Carlisle, not a burden.

[Now arriving back at the bed, the ice alien eases them both back onto it slightly--but instead of allowing Carlisle to lean against him just yet, he turns to face the clergyman, one hand on his shoulder to keep him upright as he looks into his eyes.] So yes, it would mean a lot to me if you made the attempt to come to me in the future instead of turning to your vices... and there is one thing you could do for me in order to show that you fully intend to do so. Would you mind turning your flask over to me? I know that it is important to you, as all things from your world understandably are... but I know that it will present a temptation to you moving forward that could stand as an obstacle to your progress, and... well. I'd rather give you the agency to turn it over yourself, rather than taking it from you forcibly. [Which the alien no doubt has the strength and the motivation to do should his partner refuse. So even though Carlisle isn't really being given a choice in the matter, Glacius would like to at least give him the chance to do the right thing of his own free will.]

[Unfortunately, Carlisle is a stubborn thing, and tends to be even more so when he's had a few (or far more than a few) drinks. As such, he gives Glacius a look of hesitant confusion.]

But that's my flask.

[Yes, they have both established that.]

[Glacius blinks, unsure of how to reiterate this point without repeating himself.] And it will still be yours--simply in my position for some time. I can assure you that I will take impeccable care of it, and will return it to you as a showing of good faith once I see you making strides to curb this behavior. I am simply trying to make this easier on you--I know the temptation to indulge will be there so long as you have the flask on you, so turning it over to me will be a good first step in moving away from all of that, as well as a clear expression of your intent to do so for my sake.

[With the loss of his garden still on his mind -- the plants of which he acquired by destroying one of his possessions from home -- he's reluctant to give up more. His irritability raises its ugly head as he pushes air sharply through his nose, snorting loudly.]

I will think about it. I can resist temptation just fine. I just never had a reassson to.

[Glacius responds to Carlisle's irritation with a level gaze, trying to mask his disappointment.] I suggest you think hard on it. More than a chance to prove your intent to me, I am giving you agency in this, Carlisle. Do you not wish to take charge of your dependency?

[He grunts again, unmoved.]

S'not dependency Glacius. It's a poor habit I will curb from now on.

[When given control over an aspect of his life, leave it to Carlisle to make the wrong choice. While he might regret all this come morning -- also his usual pattern -- he's certainly resistant to reason in his current state.]

I can only hope so, my friend. [That matter temporarily roadblocked, the ice alien tries to decide where to go from here. His original plan had been to let Carlisle relax against him while he nursed the glass of water, but he doesn't exactly feel like being so close to him right now, his partner's behavior having put a noticeable damper on how he often pursues close physical contact. It had been their way of expressing solidarity and support to one another in addition to affection, after all, none of which the clergyman had been offering him in this state...

... But that doesn't mean he should deny it in turn. He knows that Carlisle had been pushed to all of this because of great sadness and loss, and even if that doesn't necessarily excuse his harmful behavior, the alien still views it as his duty to relieve that; he still owes it to his partner to be patient and understanding-- not to let an instance of difficulty pull them apart even temporarily. Moreover, on the off chance that the clergyman does remember any of this in the morning, Glacius wants him to know that it's okay to mess up every now and again, and that he won't let such instances make him think less of his partner. Giving a sigh, the ice alien starts moving them both further onto the bed.] Now, I believe I promised you that you could lean against me as you rest. Come back against the headboard with me and take this glass of water. I want you to try your best to finish it before you fall asleep.

[Glad that Glacius seems to have backed off from taking his flask -- he'd do well to remember the alien is far more patient and persistent than he is, even on his best days -- Carlisle takes the water and downs nearly all of it in one go, only stopping because it's so cold. The chill won't help the quiet pounding of his head any, but it's a feeling he's hoping to sleep off.

And he'll sleep, he's sure. Glacius' presence always helps him do that.

He finishes the water and sets the glass on the nightstand, where it promptly falls off because he only got it halfway onto it. He doesn't seem to be bothered by that, leaving the glass lying on the floor for now. Back against Glacius he goes, mumbling a word of gratitude and something about a pillow as he makes himself comfy once more, so eager to stop thinking about his garden and his failures as a Longinmouth, a friend, and a partner. He can worry about his plethora of vices tomorrow, when he's sober.

... and maybe after just one drink to soothe any lingering woes.]

[Carlisle has taken exceedingly little away from this encounter if he thinks Glacius will let him have even one more drink. In fact, the ice alien remains motionless underneath the clergyman only as long as it takes him to fall asleep--and then, once he's sure the human is well and truly out, uses his shifting abilities to separate himself from the human resting against him. The otherworldly being eases him back against the pillows--the actual pillows, not the one he'd been dubbed as-- and turns him onto his side just in case he's drank enough to make himself sick, then removes himself from the bed entirely to go about cleaning everything up.

It takes Glacius some time--in addition to slower to be as quiet as possible despite Carlisle seeming more or less dead to everything around him, the sheer amount of bottles littered around every part of the room enough to keep him busy for awhile. Instead of making multiple trips to dispose of them all, he opts to pile them all up high in a box, which he then lugs far away from the spire in the waning evening light; there's no way he's leaving so much as a single one in the apartment, let alone even intact, as he attempts to vent some of the frustration from how his attempted chat with his partner went by breaking each bottle and spilling their contents uselessly over the ground. It doesn't really help, but at least Carlisle has no hope of reclaiming any of it now... though he could always just go to that damn bar to get more, Glacius realizes belatedly. He can only hope now that his partner plans on making good on his promise to keep from imbibing in the future, and that it wasn't simply a drunken excuse offered in an attempt to get him to let up.

Speaking of his partner, the ice alien can't spend long out here despite how the fresh air and space to himself helps him feel better--he has to head back to the Spire immediately to make sure that Carlisle is still resting peacefully, that he hasn't gotten sick in his sleep or suffered any other miserable side effects. Returning to their shared living space and finding the clergyman still fast asleep, Glacius then moves on to cleaning up all of the glasses from the room, setting them to soak in the sink to hopefully get the stench of alcohol out of everything. Doing all this clean up makes it painfully apparent just how much Carlisle has been drinking over the past couple of days--and aside from reaffirming in the alien's mind that he made the right choice in forcibly cutting the clergyman off, he has to wonder how in the blazes the human isn't dead right now, let alone how he was awake and aware enough to be responsive. He has to assume that human alcohol is much weaker than other drinks, but he has no way of confirming whether or not that's true given that, unlike his partner, he hasn't indulged in a single drop ever since he left his own homeworld.

At least there's finally not a single drop left in the apartment, either, save for what's in Carlisle's flask. Glacius briefly considers digging that out of the clergyman's jacket, but then turns that idea aside with a sigh and a weary shake of his head. Despite everything, he'd like to give his partner one more chance, so he'll wait until he's sober and recuperated before he broaches the subject again... which means that is left to do is to wait for the clergyman to wake up. Despite the fact that a part of him wants nothing more than to go somewhere else for the night to try and reclaim a sense of space for himself, he knows deep down that if Carlisle woke up sick or scared from a nightmare and he wasn't around to help him through it, he'd regret it deeply.

So Glacius refills the glass of water so that Carlisle can drink more when he wakes, then returns to the room. He shifts back up onto the bed and reverts rather than clambering up to avoid jostling or disturbing his partner, spends some time sorting the pillows underneath him and wrapping blankets around him to keep him comfortable, then finally slips back up against the slumbering clergyman. Spooning him gently in the still and quiet of the night, there's very little to do but try to nod off himself... and when the artificial light finally filters into the room, the alien wakes but still does not move. He wants to be here when Carlisle comes around, to keep an eye on the clergyman and to see if there's anything he needs or wants when he wakes up. If it happens to take him awhile, well... at least the otherworldly being has a boundless supply of patience, and doesn't seem to mind waiting around doing nothing but holding his partner as he waits for the human to come back to him.

He can only hope that when he does, the person that he remembers and cares for will be beginning to poke through again underneath the callous irritability that had taken hold last night.]

[For the most part, Carlisle sleeps for the dead; if not for his steady snoring, one might think he was. As Glacius works to rid his room and the apartment of any traces of his vice, Carlisle is completely unmoving, similarly undisturbed when the alien finally slips back beside him.

Sometime in the early morning, he enters the sleep of the living, one peppered with dreams. Coilers reach and twist around him like snakes, and much like the skinny reptiles, Carlisle can't keep them in his pots, as they slip right through the holes in the bottom with ease. Why would anyone keep snakes in pots? He hasn't long to ponder that as the fire around him spreads, and he decides he should—

Carlisle breaks from his slumber before the dream becomes a nightmare, though it's abrupt enough of a transition that he seems lost for a moment, drowsily mumbling something about getting 'the snakes out' as he looks around the dim room, most of the light outside blocked by his curtains. His glasses are still on his face, completely askew; his hair is an absolute mess compared to how tidy he usually keeps it. His head hurts, chest hurts worse, and -- oh, Glacius is still here.

Rubbing at his face, Carlisle only vaguely remembers the night prior through the throbbing behind his eyes and at his temples. He most certainly owes Glacius an apology of some sort; he should probably start with trying to handle himself in some other way than drinking and hiding in the closet, moping.]

Good, um.

[He abandons that greeting halfway through. His mouth is painfully dry, and he doesn't even know if it's morning anymore or not.]

[Feeling the human begin to stir against him, Glacius cracks his glowing green eyes open--he's been resting with them closed for some time now, relaxed posturing that belies how alert he is, keeping watch for anything that might threaten his partner while he's so utterly vulnerable. Aside from that he doesn't move much, not wanting to jostle or startle him--though this waking is somewhat more peaceful than most have been, he can still tell that Carlisle is not feeling well. After a moment he slips one cool hand to his partner's forehead, the other resting over his stomach.] Sh. Take it easy, Carlisle. You have a lot to recover from, but you're safe. I'm here.

[He drags his hand down his face, then brings it up to resettle on Glacius' against him.]

Cisth. Sorry about... sorry. You didn't have to stay in here with me. I don't recall being, um. Very pleasant.

[He still isn't, if how awful he looks says much to him.]

[Glacius gives a slight smile, not that Carlisle can see it given how the alien is tucked up against his back; he's just glad to see him getting back to his old self already. Amazing how much of a difference not being awfully drunk makes--again, the alien is reminded that he did the right thing in removing all of his alcohol.] You weren't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you here alone to suffer nightmares or sickness without any support. We're partners--we stand by each other. And I have always said that I will be here for you.

I would argue that you should have left me, but I know better. [Or at least he does now that he's not being fueled by liquor and stubbornness alone.] Desth, this hurts.

[His head might be working its way toward a new kind of agony, but at least he's not hurling up his insides. It could be worse. He rubs at his arms, feeling the cold as he straightens his glasses and looks around the room again with marginally clearer eyes. It does look... different, though he hasn't yet put together how.]

Good, you--[Glacius was about to say that Carlisle has already made far greater strides in the first thirty seconds of being awake and being more or less sober than he had in the entirety of last night, but then his pained exclamation catches him off guard. He shifts his hand slightly, unsure if the pressure is making it worse, and ends up coming his fingers gently through his partner's unkempt hair--a consoling gesture despite his gently chastising words.]

See--this is exactly why I do not want you continuing such behavior. It only leaves you miserable, physically and emotionally. Should... should I make your painkilling brew? How is your stomach?

[He shakes his head as his other hand strays to his eyes, pressing upon them as through the pressure there relieves it elsewhere.] My stomach is fine, surprisingly. My head is not. Such behavior might leave me miserable in the morning [or afternoon, or whenever he wakes up], but at least it gives me respite from my own mind for a time.

[He lets Glacius run his fingers through his hair another moment before sliding do the edge of the bed, his feet reaching for the ground with a degree of uncertainty.]

I don't deserve your patience, my friend.

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