Amberdrake k'Leshya (
amberdrake) wrote in
multiversallogs2012-11-06 05:34 pm
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Entry tags:
If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart.
Who: Amberdrake and Sanzo
What: Hanging out on the roof at night with good tea and good company.
Where: The old dojo in Howl Barrow
When: Night-time, present-day.
Notes: --
Warnings: Vague discussion of past rape.
It's been a long and somewhat wearying day for Baedal's one and only kestra'chern. He's done with his final client of the day long after sunset, and has cleaned up and then...
Well, he's climbed up onto the roof of the dojo. With a pot of tea, and two cups, and a small box, and a blanket, which he wraps himself up in before sitting down and putting the tea things together.
Then, Amberdrake sits back and watches the sky for a while, letting the stars and the strange three moons make his mind drift. It's rather peaceful.
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And inside is a paper pouch of tobacco, and papers and other oddments for rolling it into cigarettes. "You'll have to tell me if it's any good, before I agree to more of it ending up here."
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Hakkai sometimes pulled stuff like this, but there was usually a catch. And Goku sometimes came back with assorted shinies, but they were rarely anything interesting.
Most normal people would reply with, 'ohmigosh, thank you!' right off, but the dysfunctional monk just needs a round or two to get there.
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Of course, it isn't failing him, and he knows it. He spent a long time on some of the gifts he'd given the other man in Haven! The robe and the hair ornaments in particular.
"And the wrapping paper was a novelty. We don't have such colorful paper on Velgarth." Drake had never seen such a thing! So of course he had to try it.
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"This is... tobacco?" It almost smells like tea, sort of, sweet and floral and smoky. He always smokes Marlboros, but this is like switching from Lipton to a high-grade Oolong!
He might be a high-ranking priest, but such luxuries weren't available to those who lived such a spartan lifestyle, and the war between humans and demons had slowed that kind of trade anyway.
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Why yes, he does charge some of his clients enough (specifically, the ones who can afford it) that even keeping up with Sanzo's smoking habits warrants a 'partially'.
"I know the ones you arrived with won't last forever, so..."
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That Drake is taking a hit in money for it is also quite moving to Sanzo, but articulating that is, of course, beyond the scope of his emotional maturity.
The kestra'chern sure knows how to pick 'em.
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Apparently, whatever it is Amberdrake does for that particular client, it's quite well-appreciated.
"What was that look for, earlier?" he's curious. Sanzo seemed... unsettled? at being called pretty.
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But whatever he might've said is derailed when Drake asks him that. "Hn." His expression sobers-- not that it wasn't very demonstrative before, but it's quite serious now. "When people say I'm pretty, usually it means that they want to peel my face off and put it on a wall, or keep me as a doll, or a pet, or..." Worse, in the usual petty, disgusting ways of people who liked pretty things and liked to take them.
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And it had been such a narrow escape...
"Although I've called you beautiful before," Drake adds, reining in his thoughts, "and you only had a problem with it directly after being..." how to put it? Raped? Assaulted? Brainwashed? None of those would do Sanzo's mood any favors. "...messed with." To put it very lightly.
"Did something new happen?"
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Sanzo is quiet for a long moment before he slowly admits, "It... it only seemed like a few weeks since you've been gone, but I don't know if that's really how long it was. I... woke up in a vat. I was trapped in there, the rest of the Chosen all were. The guy they sicced on me was a real creep. Kinda reminded me of someone, with his black robes and his hungry eyes..."
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"You know I wouldn't do any of those things, of course," Drake says, "would you like me to just not compliment your appearance for a while? I don't mind."
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Maybe now, though, his standoffishness makes more sense.
"Yeah, I know." He stares down at the tobacco, and then carefully wraps it up. It might be for every day use but to Sanzo, it's special.
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"This lifebond... it's Velgarthian," Amberdrake muses aloud, "I've had more experience with them, now. Both from the outside and from the inside. I couldn't hurt you, enar ves'tacha. I will never, ever want to."
He'd sworn once on Haven, long before they'd had any sort of bond, that he would never intentionally hurt Sanzo. Now that a lifebond was involved, it was guaranteed.
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He's not rejecting Drake or his comforting, though to someone less versed in people's damage, it might seem that way. He's just struggling in general.
The fact that he's not reacting violently is probably testament enough that it isn't Amberdrake, but those words.
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It's a very good thing that Sanzo's involved with a therapist, if he's going to be involved with anyone at all.
"And remember when we first met, how I didn't want my skin exposed?" Although Hadanalith was the most recent offense, and in a much more catastrophic way (he'd damn near started a new war)...
Well, Hadanalith hadn't wanted Drake. Except maybe to skin him, because torture was fun.
But those men in Ma'ar's army, all those checkpoints... they'd valued Drake's deep Kaled'a'in skin and his pretty Kaled'a'in eyes. It was why he'd kept that damn whip-scar for so long, to diminish his own appearance the little bit that he could.
"Well, I understand, anyway," Drake said instead of going into any of that. He offered a small squeeze of the arm across Sanzo's shoulders, despite the presence of that damned sutra, and then also offered a topic change, "...You're not planning to stow that away and never try it, are you? I'd hate to end up with a stockpile of it and then find out you hate it."
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Just smoking that away...
Gifts are special.
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It's not even said arrogantly. It's just truth.
"Keep it," he suggests anyway, because he can tell Sanzo's invested some attachment to the little box. "I'll get you another sample, it's not a problem at all."
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A grunt is Sanzo's reply, but it is pleased.
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But no more robes and hair ornaments and decorative things like that, he thinks. Not until Sanzo isn't so triggered by how others see him!
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"Aside from that, it seems like your business is working better now that we've got this place."
The kestra'chern's seemed a lot happier, or as happy as one can be in this place, anyway.
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He really does do better when he's able to use more than one set of talents. Doing massages all the time, discouraged from even talking to clients, forbidden from going over the allotted time, and gods forbid he get someone to discuss what made them so tense to start with...
Well. It was a lot like making a gryphon pull a cart.
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Sanzo understands that, even if Amberdrake's traditional role is not exactly holy, it is in some way sacred. And he can't stand it when hypocrites try to turn such things into something cheap.
He isn't necessarily a devout or a religious man, but some things, just like gifts, are special.
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It's a little amused... but true, too.
"It isn't like it's easy work, of course. I had someone crying in my lap for three hours today while I tried to piece them back together," which was why he had run so late, tonight, "but it's what I'm good at. It's what I was trained for."
And even if he took quite the battering from his clients on a daily basis, Empathically and mentally, at least he was secure in the knowledge that he was doing his job. His real job.
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Sanzo understands professional pride, even if he considers himself unworthy of his own vocation-- but compared to most people, even he knows he's a better fit.
"...You know, I don't usually take confessions," not that that's stopped people from confiding in him anyway, "But if you need to..."
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If Sanzo means about his own awful shit, he's pretty sure (from previous experience) that the priest will end up knowing about most of it anyway. Two Empaths makes it likely, a lifebond makes it unavoidable, and both...
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His expression goes a little flat at that, and he looks at his tea, "And we both know how that relationship is going to end up."