Ryslig Inbox

[magicalglowstick]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, SHARTAN. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** SHARTAN has joined 018.07.154.55 <SHARTAN> speak

Comments

<SanduShengshou>

[legbreakings]

Were you foolish enough to get yourself captured?

[ It's not like he cares, mind you. He is only here to gloat. Which is why he went to lengths to learn Fenris' username. Because that's how little he cares about that weird grumpy elf from the boathouse. ]

<shartan>

[magicalglowstick]

[Excuse you.]

looking for company?

<SanduShengshou>

[legbreakings]

[ He scoffs at his laptop, which is not the same as scoffing at Fenris, alas. Yet another reason why laptops suck. ]

I didn't get captured. Don't be ridiculous.

<shartan>

[magicalglowstick]

[They agree on that much. He can't even properly portray an eye roll over these things.]

the most shocking bit of news ive heard yet

action; backdated to late 23rd/very early 24th

[chardismastic]

[ Turns out that it takes a goodly while to get a semi-conscious, bleeding arachne anywhere you need it to be — especially when hauling it out of sewers, or when that arachne's sporting eight shattered kneecaps, courtesy of Rafe's new baseball bat. It'd been a quick pick-up, laying in a broken window display from another attack gone wrong spilled over from street to store and back again. Rafe couldn't tell if it was aluminum or titanium or what-the-hell-ever, and frankly couldn't care less. All he needed to know was whether it would stay in one piece after venting his frustrations on one of these poaching bastards.

Suffice to say: it did.

Rafe had insisted (against Fenris's protests) on bringing this one to Javert, to La Forteresse, and had hot-wired a car to that effect rather than drag the bastard all that way. No matter what the opinion on monsters may be around here, he doesn't think that would make for a great optic. Sure, maybe stealing some wheels wasn't that great either but at least he brought it back where he'd found it after he was done. Even blotted up some of the blood that'd dripped onto the upholstery.

Suffice to say, it's been a long night.

Scratch that, a long week. Scratch that, a long goddamn month and the month before that hadn't been much of a picnic either. It's been the first time in weeks that he's felt remotely like himself: in control, capable, a force to be reckoned with and not fucked with— But still it's a bitter pill. Still unacceptable that it'd ever come to this in the first place, that a single bare-bones win had been so necessary after a string of stupid mistakes and abject failures.

And making it all worse... Fenris. Fenris, who's now saved Rafe's ass three times in two months. Fenris, who had been the one to actually get decent intel within two weeks of arrival. Fenris, who'd had to play nursemaid before he kicked it right on that couch. Fenris, who even now is right on Rafe's heels as he walks into the apartment because he doesn't trust Rafe to make it on his own.

Though why should he? he seethes, shoulders a taut line as he aims directly for the kitchen. Isn't as if Rafe has given him much cause to believe anything else. ]

[magicalglowstick]

[Fenris still remembers that panic when he realized Danarius wasn't coming for him. That fear when he found himself following someone who wasn't his master. Since then his situation has become a little less nebulous than when he first awoke on the shore confused and completely blind to what was happening to him, but now things are becoming more concrete. It's both helpful and terrifying. But now that he doesn't feel so aimless, now that he's found a purpose, no matter how temporary that purpose might be, it gives him something to focus on again.

He had managed to do his duty to Ser Javert as well as to his partner, though he got the impression that it would take a lot more to prove his worth to Rafe. Javert seemed to value Fenris's loyalty to both him and the job, but Rafe...

He must have a high set of standards, not that Fenris can fault him on that. He had one of those minds...steel traps, always thinking, a gear doesn't go one second without spinning, and you had to keep up because falling behind was unacceptable. It's the impression he gets, at least. It's not like Rafe made Fenris kneel on the ground for an entire night until his back screamed from the pain at the smallest transgression, but he didn't seem particularly happy. Not unhappy at the situation, but with him. That kind of quiet resentment that could undoubtedly end up with him out on the curb yet again.

He has to try harder.

Rafe has been through a lot since his arrival. He's done remarkably well considering his world sounds so different than what passes for normal here — even Fenris didn't find this world as foreign the longer he spent here. That's why he sticks by him on the way back to the apartment, and why as soon as they're inside and he sees Rafe isn't immediately taking a seat to have a rest, he speaks up:]

Tell me what you need. It's best if you got off your feet for a bit.

[chardismastic]

[ And there it is.

Rafe had been staring into the fridge— why? he hasn't been hungry in a month, hasn't been thirsty, hasn't needed anything since coming out of the sewers half-dead and then... well —before Fenris made his offer; now his fingers flex and clench on the door before slamming it shut again. It's more forceful than he'd meant, unused to his new strength but that's not an excuse, and he orders himself still. Still instead of spinning on his heel with a snarl no matter how much he wants to.

Control. Everything else may have been taken from him: Avery, his world, his life, but goddamn him if they'll ruin that too. ]

What I need? [ And so his voice is stone cold, each syllable clipped and concise. ] Is for you to knock this shit off.

[magicalglowstick]

[Not a single twitch as the fridge door slams. In fact, considering he seemed to have done something wrong, he expects it. It's not always a slammed door or a smashed cup. In fact he's usually on the other end of a quiet anger hidden behind a patient smile and a soft voice, but that doesn't mean he's not accustomed to the more straight forward fits of anger.

He feels a pang of frustration that hits him in the gut, at first, if only because he can't seem to figure out what he can do to stop irking Rafe. He's far more attentive than this. There were many times where nothing would have to be said for as long as an hour because Fenris was so in tune with his master and his betters — he would just know what they needed or when they needed it. Perhaps he's a bit rusty. Ten years of freedom will do that to you.]

I'd be happy to stop if you would tell me what I'm doing wrong.

[It's not back talk, just a simple statement.]

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[Attached to this message are three sets of photos. The first is the oldest, a guillotine death dated June the 12th. The second is a gruesome bastard fusion of art, theater, and murder, a tableaux of bodies that resembles a word of an old Renaissance master. The last is of a recognizable poacher from the morning of July 24th.

There is no further description alongside the image. Only the following instruction:]

I have a new project for you to study. Meet me at the office tonight, ten o'clock.

[magicalglowstick]

of course, ser javert

[Just a simple reply to let Javert know he received the message. Naturally, Fenris arrives at the office — exactly ten o'clock, no sooner, no later.

He focuses on his duty, and the fact that Javert has something for him, in order to ignore the sickening feeling in his stomach. Not at the photos in particular. Fenris has seen many grotesque things, that of which he still sometimes dreams about, even the things he can't remember that end up as fleeting nightmares he loses after being awake too long. The sickening feeling stems more from what this could possible mean, more than anything. The fact that his partner was targeted.]

Ser.

[He nods his head in greeting as soon as he arrives and stands at the ready, as if immediately awaiting instruction upon entering Javert's office.]

[inseine]

[Javert is standing with his back to the door, polaroids meticulously arranged on a cork board at the back wall. There are three discrete scenes arranged, left to right, oldest to most recent. Each set of photographs conveys the scene as a witness would see them, if he were to walk in and find the arrangement of corpses set in the room. He turns when he hears and smells Fenris's approach, sharp gaze snapping to meet his subordinate's.

He does not greet him. Instead he gestures to the photos with a sideways jerk of his head.]

Tell me what you see.

<dismas>

[chardismastic]

okay i don't know what the hell is going on but

i say we don't eat anything for a couple days and nothing to drink but water we've boiled ourselves [ this is slightly more manageable for the dead man in the house. but. y'know. still. ]

because screw this

<shartan>

[magicalglowstick]

you think its in the food and water?

i assumed possession

[He may have been briefly considering if he would have to cut some people down, honestly.]

<dismas> 1/2

[chardismastic]

not everything is always demons

<dismas>

[chardismastic]

besides you would think demons would be less about fucking prayer circles and hippie crap than what i'm seeing

action; 11/9

[chardismastic]

[ He chooses his moment carefully. After dusk, once the sun has set, that Fenris won't be cooped up by the blackout curtains and careful mirrors of the garret, and then later still to give Fenris time to pace and use some of that pent up energy. This is a conversation that he's considered for some time now but recent events have cemented the sheer necessity of it, and all that's left is to make Fenris realize that necessity as well.

So Rafe waits, and when he gauges the mood is as good as he'll get, he clears his throat in the open archway of the living room, a blue-eyed silhouette against the kitchen behind him. ]

I have a proposition for you.

[magicalglowstick]

[Fenris usually perches in a corner where it's darker, even with all the blackout curtains, some areas hold shadow better than others. But whenever Rafe walks into the living room he instinctively crawls over the back of the couch, as if anticipating for Rafe to take a seat.

He had been examining a jar of broken glass pieces that had given him an idea, but his partner commands his attention whether purposeful or not.]

Do you now.

[His lips form a flat line, ears going flat in embarrassment from Rafe's little callback.]

[chardismastic]

Indeed I do.

[ A smirk flickers over his face, glad to see that the reference was caught and appreciated as it was meant to be. (Or at least Rafe appreciates it and isn't that enough? He thinks so.) But that's about the only humor he can muster up heading into this. He maintains the distance, arms idly folded across his chest as his hip leans against the entry. ]

We just hit a new month, fresh fog, and it's looking as if... Our freak factor's plateaued. All the physical shit that's out to happen far as we're concerned seems to have happened. [ Would've been great if it'd stopped a hell of a lot earlier, but. If wishes were fishes and all that trite Hallmark bullshit that doesn't do anything once the hunger hits. ] And since neither of us has woken up from the hell we've found ourselves in, suppose we ought to consider what comes next.

[ As if Rafe hasn't already considered. As if Rafe hasn't come to this ready to stake out and chart out that next— And he knows Fenris will know that. ]

<QueenRegnant>

[reignfall]

Do you reckon it is possible to create mulled wine inside the kettle meant for the boiling of water?

<shartan>

[magicalglowstick]

i never considered that before. perhaps?

i may regret saying this, but im curious.

<QueenRegnant>

[reignfall]

I will put a stick of cinnamon in as well. For more flavouring.

Who knew cookery could be so exciting?

Christmas, Midnight

[inseine]

[A black parcel arrives at Fenris's doorstep. Two of them, actually: One addressed to M. Fenris, the other to M. "Dismas" Rafe. Situated between the two of them is a basket tied with a black velvet ribbon.

Fenris's package contains his generous holiday bonus. Beneath that he will find bread and assorted baked goods courtesy of Loaves of Love. The lone meat pie is considerately labeled as 'Monster Nourishment,' so that there are no dreadful misunderstandings like the last time Javert came to their home.

And beneath all of that lies a revolver.

With a case of six silver bullets.

Fenris's note is a little less cheerful in nature.]

M. Fenris,
Joyeux Noël.
I trust you will understand what to do with this if the time comes. Keep it near.
Best regards,
JAVERT

[Oh, by the way, that basket between the two parcels? That contains a bottle of champagne and one jar each of nut butter and blackberry preserves.]

backtag to ehhhhh late january?? early february?? thereabouts (cw: sex)

[chardismastic]

[ definitely at some point after this thread ]

[ Rafe still doesn't understand it— How a couple rounds of harmless fun have apparently dug in and under those blue scales, driving Fenris to this kind of distraction. Maybe it's in their world of difference, maybe it's in the same vein as the need to perch and pick up every shiny bit of foil between here and Lake Dala. Maybe it's an elf thing. Hell if Rafe knows but frankly it doesn't matter whether he knows or understands because it still is in spite of all logic and past reason.

Which means it's still a problem that still needs a solution.

The exclusivity seemed a decent start (not fair, but fairness is a factor relying on a clear eye checking both columns of a ledger) but Rafe wants to ensure that this sudden insecurity is nipped in the bud. Never mind there's still that matter of what happened over Christmas that needs dealing with. He still catches Fenris averting his gaze now and again, almost fearful of direct eye contact, and it's too reminiscent of their early days together for Rafe's liking.

So... Two birds, one stone, he thinks. ]

Got a minute?

[ A rhetorical question from the top of the stairs— Fenris has a wealth of free time until the sun goes down again, holed up in his attic and skirting the stained-glass light that peeks round screens and mirrors. ]

[magicalglowstick]

[Before Fenris came to Ryslig staying put in one place to wait for the sun to go down would absolutely drive him up the wall. In the beginning it certainly did. But now it's...normal. He finds his space comforting in a strange way he refuses to think too much about and often retreats here at his worst moments.

He hasn't exactly been at his best, and so he spends more time sitting among his mountains of randomly assorted items than he does the rest of the house.

At the moment he's focused on sorting through one of his latest bags of loot, sat by an old nightstand where he is sorting shiny things into drawers. If there's any rhyme or reason to his sorting it's hard to tell. Either way, Rafe's presence stops him immediately. When he looks up his eyes are quick to dart down to his chest in fear of making direct contact.]

Oh, of course.

[chardismastic]

[ Yep, there it is. That deference, hesitance. Not something he wants Fenris regressing to, never mind the reason. Hell, there may be a moment in the future where that ability came in handy and Rafe didn't need him hesitating. ]

Sure about that? I wouldn't want to interrupt you if you're... [ He arches an eyebrow at the latest piles of nonsense Fenris has picked up. ] Otherwise occupied.

[ Even as he thinks it's ridiculous, he takes care not to disturb the piles of glittering garbage littered all over the floor. It's easier when Rafe can take that extra step up into the air and stroll above the floor. ]