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[wrackful]

Comments

[somatosensory]

Gilia's thing. Are you going?

[wrackful]

Uh. Yeah.

[There's a touch of uncertainty in his voice, unsure why Aristaeus is asking, unsure how to navigate discussions of other relationships, connections. Pretty sure that if Aristaeus would prefer he not go, he'd just say as much, but it still lingers as a possibility.]

I mean, I said no, but then I talked it out with Ianthe and she cleared some stuff up so. Yeah, I was going to.

[somatosensory]

Good, we can walk together.

( breezing right past that hesitant tone. they've already had one iteration of this conversation together. do they need to have another? )

[wrackful]

[A pause, then a huff of a laugh, a little disbelieving. Not at Aristaeus' answer, but at how bizarre the whole event's going to be.]

Sure. Date night.

[somatosensory]

I do also have actual business with the Deathwarden, but. Sure. Date night.

[wrackful]

I don't think Ianthe's going to want to talk actual business at the cum party, Ari.

[somatosensory]

No, I'm very much aware of why I've been invited John.

[wrackful]

Good. Wouldn't want you putting in a bad performance.

[somatosensory]

That would be unfortunate.

[wrackful]

And unusual, to be fair.

[somatosensory]

No point starting something if you're not going to finish strong, as my teacher would say.

[wrackful]

Oh yeah, I'm sure they were talking about this.

[somatosensory]

Probably not, but she'd approve of Ianthe's organizational skills if nothing else.

[wrackful]

Is that the actual business you have with her? Party organising?

[somatosensory]

I'm not really into parties, but for Gilia, I'll make an exception.

Ianthe's been experimenting with, among other things, making bath products and has kindly set aside some for me to test.

[wrackful]

She's not making you people soap, is she?

[somatosensory]

Moisturizer. I can't verify whether or not people were an ingredient until I have it. But I'm inclined to be forgiving, especially if it does smell of sandalwood.

[wrackful]

[Okay, he's just laughing now.]

Moisturizer?

[somatosensory]

How else am I going to keep blemish-free? Good genes will only take me so far.

[wrackful]

I don't know, man, I gave up on worrying about that a while ago.

[Sometime around the first set of scars.]

[somatosensory]

I like your blemishes.

[wrackful]

[He always thinks he should've seen it coming, the times Aristaeus takes the opportunity to slide in out of left-field and hit him with something that trips him like that. But that's the point, isn't it? It's a blind side. He'll never see it coming. All he can try to do is pretend like he didn't get tripped, but it was probably obvious enough from the long pause before he responds:]

Well, lucky for you, cause I don't think even moisturizer's going to do anything about them.

[somatosensory]

I mean, I could if you wanted. But scars are — history. Would you really want to give that up?

[wrackful]

Yeah, and who doesn't want to undo some history?

[Except getting rid of the scars wouldn't do that. He'd always be carrying it, regardless.]

No, I get it. I'm good.

[somatosensory]

It's a matter of perspective. Personally, I don't see a reason to be ashamed of what we've survived; scars are just reminders.