then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this

[caballero]

Who: Bruce Tom & Seoraj.
What: Camping, completely free of ulterior alibi motive.
Where: North of Flag Hill.
When: Beginning roughly on the 30th.
Warnings: Weirdness, violence, sexuality.

They leave early, because that's the tradition of camping - before dawn, as they have to make it up to the northern edge of the city proper first ("'Morning-") - the provisional shops built into the cliff face that hosts the treacherous ways up into the forests are helpful, the proprietors less so; that they generally profit off fools isn't anything they keep quiet. Bruce isn't bothered. Cold morning air and physical exertion with dirt under his hands makes some far-off part of him feel at peace.

It's just starting to become properly bright out when they reach the summit that'll lead them into the woods, and he takes a moment to stop and look out over the view of the city. Up here it's quiet, but not silent - it's not an absence of sound, but an absence of people, and looking down on Baedal from the vantage point of the highest natural point in the only landscape they have available makes it feel like another world.

Remarkable.

Comments

[serjeant]

As alibis go, Seoraj is a good one; he's 'that huge friendly bloke' to his cohort and 'Master Stoneshell' to his neighbourhood, a real salt of the earth kind of guy, as much of a pillar of the community as any of the new arrivals could hope to be. An uncomplicated man who takes pains to stay that way.

It's funny how complicated than can get, of itself.

Up here, though, it's clear air and the sense of relaxing back into his own skin. This is more familiar to him than city living, and it's easy to fall into step, to be quiet because they know what they're doing and there's not a lot that needs to be said, to-- sometimes catch himself listening for footfalls that aren't there, because it's only the two of them. (Not unheard of, before, but not his norm, either. Two men on foot meant coming or going and doing either with a certain degree of urgency, usually.)

"Shame we have to go back down," he remarks, mostly a joke.

[caballero]

"Not yet."

The look Bruce casts him is fleeting, but pleasant. At the moment, he's more interested in the view - but that's fitting, somehow, as outside the city he almost seems like a different person. It's not that Bruce doesn't like people (just the opposite), but he always seems to be operating on a different frequency than everyone else.

For a slim moment it's as if he's taking something for himself, sitting there at the summit and just looking. A few heartbeats tick by and then that's all; he's come up here for a purpose, and it isn't sightseeing.

(There was a glimmer, when they were talking about it, in which Bruce felt a stirring of guilt about Seoraj coming with him - he's using him, plain and simple.

It was a fleeting worry.)

"Still time to stay here." ... You know, since Bruce is leading him on a crazy hike into the unknown.

[serjeant]

"And get shown up by some trouser-wearing foreigner?" It's a bit of affectionate bravado is all - self-skewering in tone, taking the piss out of his own nationalism - and he grins, shifting the weight of his pack to prepare for imminent motion (forward, not back; always be going forward). "No fear of that."

[caballero]

"You sure you've been in a forest before?" ... In a skirt? Carrying an ax doesn't make you immune to sharp sticks poison oak, Seoraj.

But it's in a mirrored tone - well, for Bruce. Joking, detectable by the fact that he's speaking at all and not doing so with an unkind tone. (If he was the sort of person to consciously note things of this nature, he might reflect on the fact that he rarely gets mileage out of these kinds of exchanges outside Alfred and Enfys.)

[serjeant]

Look at those boots and wraps, you wish you had this kind of swag, Bruce. Presumably this is why Seoraj chuckles, moving to fall in step so they can continue, the view having been by now sufficiently appreciated. The truth is that he's too curious not to continue, now, about both the man and what he's up to. 'Walking past' has never been something he's got the knack for, even if he mastered 'walking away' pretty young.

(The distinction is subtle.)

"Caught one of the clan boys in a tree trap once, in a forest," he reminisces, fondly. "Not intentionally, mind, and the girls were red as anything when they came to fetch someone to get Langler down."

[caballero]

Advancements have been made on things to wrap around your legs to protect them. They're called trousers. (Some tiny voice, somewhere, asks why is anyone protesting this?)

Also Batman doesn't need swag.

The tree canopy is thick, and the proper line of the wilds in the distance threatens pitch-black traveling even at high noon, but for now, Bruce leads them slightly eastward. They've no map, and he's only got a vague idea of where to go, but that vague idea is as much as anyone in the city as ever had in generations, if his research is to be believed. (And his research is always to be believed.)

"That's not the best sell for those things."

[serjeant]

"Damn good argument for minding where you put your feet, though." Innit. At least, Langler never made the same mistake twice. (He misses the boys, sometimes more than others; probably they don't miss being routinely referred to as 'the boys' by someone not that much their senior.)

[caballero]

"I fell in a sinkhole once."

(It's an easier memory than one might expect.)

The terrain is rocky and uneven, plainly unsuited for human travel - no one goes up here except to skim over the land or creep into less harsh corners. Bruce navigates it with an almost irritating ease, displaying a familiarity that is almost comically at odds with the technical desk job he maintains in Baedal. It's half hiking and half rock-climbing, but at least they can see. The hard part is going to be when they have to go down again - because Bruce is looking for a slim ravine, and surely, that'll be endless fun.

[serjeant]

Seoraj doesn't have the same mountain goat instincts as Bruce is evidently working with, but he doesn't fall far behind, either; there's something almost like release in getting away from the city, in being pushed to work. He feels more like himself when he's straining, when the strange sounds he's begun to become accustomed to are distant to his ears and his hands are carrying new calluses.

[caballero]

Though Bruce is inherently something of a spiritually extreme homebody - a man content to devote himself to a single city, to become the avatar of that city - part of him will always still love travel and the whole world itself dearly. Sometimes he sees how easily he's integrated into Baedal and knows that it's a trap; coming up onto the mountain is as much an exercise in something that he needs to get done as it is a moment to clear his head.

The work to get where they're going is ridiculous, but at least it isn't hot out, not even with the elevation. That doesn't mean it isn't brutal, though, and even Bruce slips once, but he manages to catch himself with a bemused kind of happy accident. Once they're clear of most of the rocks and into the trees, they face another kind of careful work, having to keep quiet and alert. At one point they pass a massive, lizard-like beast; Bruce would call it a dragon, confined as he is to Earth-based terms, and though it seems docile as it grazes through the trees, he's not in a hurry to test if it just hasn't noticed them or not.

Strange birds and other little creatures that slink away from the edges of their vision lurk, chitter, scare away and sometimes peer at them as they go, and deep into the trees in the distance, something very big cries out. Unsettling.

The clearing is unexpected - its existence and the sheer size of it. Bruce comments that no one he's talked to mentioned anything like a plateau, but it's vibrant green and grassy, interspersed with large rocks and the occasionally strange-leafed tree. Far away, nearly on the horizon, structures loom, outlined against more cliffs and trees. It's hard to tell if they're structures, or something else. About a hundred yards away, another of the lizard-creatures is nosing about in the weeds, this one much larger than the one they edged around earlier; it has a great metal ring about its head, bars stuck through its neck like bicycle wheel spokes.

Bruce doesn't lead them more than a few yards into the clearing proper - it's dangerous out in the open, and they're practically helpless deer, in this place.

[serjeant]

(Seoraj would call it a dragon, too, although frankly when he catches sight of it terminology is not the first thing that crosses his mind. Or the second, given the apology into the ether to his mother for not forgetting that word she accidentally taught him when she burned her hand.)

The larger of these two helpless deer shades his eyes against the unexpected brightness when they reach it - it isn't, really, but trees had shaded their ascent just enough that his eyes need a moment to adjust and he has to fight not to tense against it, instinctive objection to anything that might slow reaction time. It's a fair concern, he feels, given what one might call the implication of possible-structures and a great metal ring that he might call deliberate around that creature's head and neck. He has the vague sinking feeling that wherever they're going is going to involve whatever's capable of putting it there on principle of sod's law.

On the other hand, he'd been beginning to get restless down in the city. This'll learn him, he thinks, rueful, and keeps near the trees.

[caballero]

For his part, Bruce is trying to decide several things - first, if they can get anywhere secure without having to engage any of the wildlife, and second, if that metal ring there looks like it's grown in or like someone put it there. He shifts his weight, takes one step backwards onto a rock and hoists himself up a little higher, narrowing his eyes as he takes in the plateau, then drops back down with an edge of graceful effortlessness.

Whichever way they go, there's not much cover. They could stay and see if the dragon-thing moves, but waiting around like morons doesn't suit Bruce much. If they're gonna get eaten, he'd rather just go for it instead of hanging about and letting their adrenaline and momentum evaporate.

Then, quietly-

"It's grazing."

There are no other living things (that he can see) anywhere out in the vast clearing, which is worrying, but from here, it looks like the creature is actually eating patches of knee-high grass.

... Which doesn't mean it can't just be a person-eating monster with a varied diet, but a grass-eating dragon has more chances of actually being a dragon-cow versus a blood thirsty ravenous beast. Right? He shoots Seoraj a glance, as if asking him if he's on the same page mentally.

[serjeant]

The passing thought that he is not a fucking farmer strikes Seoraj as really hilarious when they are dealing with a dragon (...cow, possibly), but under the circumstances he keeps that to himself (with great effort; for as mild as he is, he does still manage to be constantly sassing the world) and settles on, "Don't fancy seeing what they herd it with, do you?"

Which is also his opinion on the matter of whether or not that metal ring was put there by someone.

[caballero]

Several packs full of unspeakably rare alchemical materials and one freed cow dragon later, Bruce and Seoraj - alive and relatively intact - arrive back at the edge of Flag Hill. For all his bruises, Bruce feels rather accomplished, and he feels at once relieved to be 'back' and regretful to leave the clean rawness of the wilds.

At the sight of them, one of the gateway rangers asks what the fuck kind of camping they were doing ("Enthusiastic"), and also jovially recommends a lodge with hot running water.

Which is a really, tremendously good sell over crawling all the way back to Stoneshell. (Or Stoneshell and Bonetown, or... well, whatever, they're crashing for a night up here, still.)

And it's certainly one tactic to avoid ... avoidance.

[serjeant]

Hot running water sounds like a much more satisfying experience than dragging his aching bones all the way down home, and Seoraj doesn't take a great deal of convincing (or ... any, there's so much of him to drag) to get to the lodge. Dirt, grime, sweat, blood; it feels ground into his skin and he feels uncommonly like himself.

“You ever ask me to go for a walk,” he says, reflectively, dropping his pack down, “I'm getting the definition of walk from you first.”

[caballero]

Bruce is all too happy to be able to put his gear down, and he's surprised (wryly) at how comfortable their accommodations immediately strike him: low-ceilinged, almost lopsided, wood floors and walls and no windows, the back of the inn against the mountain and the front of their room against a hallway. The bathroom is practically a steam room, rustic and scalding. Perfect.

"Poor tactic," he observes, quiet as he pulls one boot off for the first time in days. "Ask me what the road will be like."

Walking is walking, it just depends on where.

[serjeant]

Seoraj laughs quietly, a low and rough sound that suits the close warmth of their surroundings, which is more or less a concession to Bruce's point. If ever there was a man with whom you need to start learning to read fine print...

Not, mind, that he means to say he wouldn't go.

Investigating the bathroom instead of continuing that conversation, the door's ajar when the sound of water comes on, steam rising as the temperature heats up. Seoraj, untying the top-knot and braids in front of the bathroom mirror, considers his reflection and-- reflects, for a minute, on the situations in which he keeps finding himself lately. Funny how these things work out. Moments.

He leans sideways so Bruce can see him through the door.

“You coming, or what?”

...look, he's always been straightforward.

[caballero]

When that query is voiced (challenge is issued?), Bruce is out of his boots and jacket and is working on his belt buckle. He glances up, inquisitive (interested), and the barely-there quirk of his eyebrow is only a vague nod towards the potential hilarious crassness of that question. Hell would, after all, freeze over if Bruce Wayne made a dick joke.

What he does instead of speaking is tug his belt off and drop it in the pile of discarded climbing gear before meandering over to the stream room doorway, shirt pulled over his head along the way. He's bruised and cut up in places, but it's nothing compared to the remnants of days gone by; the bullet holes are the most suspect, but really - at this point, Bruce doesn't think Seoraj is going to be surprised at the state of him.

He doesn't hesitate. He pauses. It's not a terrible sight, from his angle.

[serjeant]

Given the way that they met, and the tenor of all subsequent dealings (yes), Seoraj would probably be more surprised if Bruce didn't look like fifty miles of hard road; he has enough scars of his own that it doesn't even merit a raised eyebrow, not really. He hasn't figured out what made this man, but figuring him out is not exactly what it's all been about, anyway.

--he has no idea what it's about, he never had a plan, but here they are and it works, so he doesn't pause and he doesn't hesitate and he stops overthinking it because that's never really been his style. If there's something tentative about the way he moves toward him, reaches for him, there are two reasons for that: one, that Bruce is a pain in the ass to get a grip on at the best of times, and two, that he's still figuring out exactly where he wants to put his hands.

(Lots of places.)

[caballero]

Indecision is for other people - people who aren't half undressed and in a shower with the object of their desire, anyway - and if there's any doubt Bruce isn't on board it's killed by the way he steps forward; palms against Seoraj's abdomen, his chest, up to his shoulders and he kisses him, straightforward without being aggressive (this will always feel new to him, he thinks, no matter who it is).

Something in the back of his head chides him about rushing when parts of them are still bleeding but in this moment (his pants are still on, which is kind of funny, but it's not like they don't need washed), he doesn't really... care, or want to acknowledge that being an option at all.

[serjeant]

The most disconcerting thing here is just the abrupt reminder that he has some height on Bruce, inches and mass - he's just not someone that Seoraj thinks of as being smaller than he is, and it doesn't really matter or mean anything, it's not as though he's small (...shut up), it's just something that's briefly unexpected for a moment before it becomes unimportant again. Rushing water and how close they are, that's more interesting and more immediate; he's more undressed, kilts being in a pain in the arse to clean and something he's going to deal with when he gets home and not before, his clothes in a pile in the corner.

His fingers splay out against Bruce's side, just under his ribs and sliding up, lazily intent, like he's got all the goddamn time in the world.

[caballero]

The height difference doesn't seem to bother Bruce, or even really register - it does, a slightly nagging note that's quieter now than it was a heartbeat ago, reminding him of why, exactly, this is always going to feel revelatory. But the memory begins and ends with height, and it doesn't cling; it's long past its ability to hold onto him and Bruce wouldn't let it, now.

He's not even got anything in his head that compares to this sort of sweet-natured attention, anyway.

Chest pressed against the other man's, Bruce slides his fingers through braided hair, over the back of his head, something he's wanted to do for a while. The slight pang as Seoraj's hand moves higher on the presumed-to-be-superficial bruise isn't enough to make him flinch, but he does move his hand a moment later, partly to let the muscles retract and partly with the ulterior motive of pushing the edge of his pants down, and... all right, that does make him flinch a little.

Bruce leans back a bit, staring down (not there) at his side, expression somewhere in between puzzlement and faint annoyance. He's in the middle of something here, rib cage, what the hell.

[serjeant]

When Bruce shifts, Seoraj follows his gaze down (shut up) and the next time his hand moves it's (unfortunately) less sexual and more testing, feeling for injury with an eyebrow raised and the familiarity of experience (because if there's one thing he knows, it's figuring out how bad somebody fucked up this time). “I think you missed something,” he says, wryly.

[caballero]

The faint noise Bruce makes at being probed (no, you shut up) isn't the sort one wants to hear, given setting, as it's slightly pained and mostly uncomfortable. He shifts his weight and takes a breath, hand pressed to his side and - yep.

It isn't uncommon; the mental state he can force himself into as a way to circumvent pain response during combat means that sometimes he doesn't notice things like this until long after, when his head's settled back down into something more human.

Bruce is still staring, though, incredulous, and eventually the pain does indeed connect with the rest of him. He exhales, and: "Shit."

He almost sounds like he's laughing, there, and when he faces forward and drops his head on Seoraj's shoulder, he is laughing. (Not hysterical from exhaustion or even particularly emotive, but... for him.)

[serjeant]

Laughter has a tendency to be infectious and Seoraj is the last person to be immune to the sheer absurdity of the moment-- it's more movement than sound, first, the shoulder under Bruce's head shaking with it, and it stays low, rueful. This isn't actually a first for him, but it's usually his forgotten injury that puts the brakes on, so if nothing else he can enjoy not being the one with the busted ribs right now.

(And not being the one who forgot he had them while trying to get laid, for that matter.)

His hands rest easy on the back of Bruce's hips and he shakes his head, grinning despite himself. “There goes that idea,” he says, and he's still laughing.