Diabhall had been cooped up in the Gallows for what had felt like so long, stepping out to something as grandiose as a society event was more than stark. He was no stranger to parties, not at all; the bit of it that struck him as novel was the fact that no one really knew who he was. There was no one vying for his attentions.
Well. Not exactly.
The thing he had certainly not counted on was finding perhaps the only person he would actually regret never seeing again. But...why is that, exactly, he wonders? They had been intimate in the past, certainly, but he also had no shortage of paid company who served that purpose. He had enjoyed seeing the younger elf, but some of the things he had found himself doing at that party felt...strange. Uncomfortable. Aberrations.
For the moment, he is leaning back in the bath, long white hair fanning around his slender frame on the water's surface. His nightclothes are neatly folded nearby, black leather collar placed on top as if in a place of honor. Lost in his own contemplation, he's staring off into the middle distance, idly tracing little patterns in the ripples of the bath.
As he begins stepping into the baths, he tries to tell himself that the cut of a familiar figure in its waters could be anyone - could just be someone he doesn't know that works in some other part of the Gallows, that it's not a one-hundred percent guarantee of who he thinks it is. But then, of course, he sees the collar resting upon the little pile of clothes and while it's still possible it could be someone else there is an even greater likelihood that it is who he expects.
It shouldn't make his pulse quicken the way it does. After all, he's bathed with his - Eros - he's bathed with Eros and they are two parts of the same person, technically. So it's not unusual, it shouldn't be anything to be nervous about. They are just bathing in the same space. It's not as if they'd even be bathing together, everyone bathes here (hopefully, hopefully everyone bathes). Still, there is a moment of hesitation as he fights his urge to leave and come back later.
No, that's silly. He should just carry on and pay Diabhall no mind.
So, with light steps, he approaches the water and sets his things beside the bathing pool before stepping in. Despite choosing not to entirely evade the man, he still chooses a spot that's a few feet away, leaving a generous amount of personal space between them.
Upon hearing the entrance of another person, Diabhall briefly flicks his glance in the direction of the entrance - and then away again before he can be caught looking. Of course. This certainly tracks with the way the rest of the night has gone, after all.
For a few minutes he is silent, facing away, letting the younger elf settle in. They have both been through such a peculiar day, and perhaps it would be best to let the dust settle...but then, of course, they certainly need the private conversation.
He turns the situation over in his head for a bit, still soaking there, unmoving.
Then, finally, he breaks the stillness with voice alone.
"...Good evening, Allumin."
why yes, and i saw you didn't have a lifeguard at your beach
"Good evening, Mr. Min-- Diabhall," he says, the informality of it feeling awkward on his tongue. But they're equals here, so there's no need to be formal with him here, right?
As he unties the braid in his hair and carefully unravels it, all he can think about now is their encounter. The joke about meeting each other again with the wine, the sight of him and Loki dancing together, then his own dance after that he has a sneaking feeling Diabhall watched (which is such a vain thought but it just feels true)... Seeing the collar again, peeking out from his robes, and now carefully sitting on ceremony a few feet away...
Diabhall, on the other hand, does not turn to look at first. Something tells him he is being stared at, but he pays it no mind - lost a bit in his own thoughts. The younger elf stumbles on his name, and he is all at once all too aware of the shift in dynamic between them now. They really aren't the mentor and student anymore, are they? But what does that mean, exactly?
He isn't sure.
There is a long period of silence before he finally shifts, turning to face Allumin and meeting his stare. He appears completely unbothered by being looked at, even as he is, bare and willowy there in the water. For a beat, he still doesn't speak...and then, finally, the words come out.
Hesitation?
"...I would like to apologize for my...conduct this evening." A small clearing of the throat. "I have been feeling a bit unwell since my arrival, and my behavior upon finding you was...stilted, at best."
Idly, he begins to comb his fingers through the sheet of his long white hair, separating the strands.
His behavior had been a bit unusual from what he remembered, but he later wrote it off as a case of things he didn't know or remember about the man. Or a side of him he hadn't seen before in any capacity. It was easy enough to justify.
But between Diabhall's own words on the matter, and the way he seems different even now makes him wonder... How much did being summoned here and processed into the rules of this world change him? Visually, he is at least mostly the same. Internally... Well, there were the circumstances with Eros.
Would that have affected this, or would this have affected that?
There's silence as he thinks about all of this and what to say.
"You don't have to apologize. I don't know how much you've heard or discussed with others hear about the theories behind rifters and our existence here, but - obviously, in both our cases - it can change things about you." A moment of pause, considering a thought as he begins to go about washing himself.
"Would you feel better about what's happening if we looked at it like a research project? Collecting data and evaluating it to see if we can find an answer? I could see if there's anything else that's relevant archived in the Felandaris offices and cross-reference it even."
In point of fact, Allumin knows Diabhall better than many do, even back where they came from - the trouble is, of course, that he can't remember most of it yet. Often, Diabhall has considered sitting him down and simply telling him, at length, more about himself...but knowing what he himself knows of emotionally-charged memories and trauma, he has, until this point, kept most of it close to the chest until the younger elf is ready to hear it.
That does complicate things now, mind. And of course Allumin is right...they have both changed.
He just doesn't know to what extent.
"I may not have to apologize, but it is what is correct."
The silence broken and the topic moving along in a businesslike fashion (that's what this is, right? Allumin has been kind to him, of course, but - oh, what is going ON-), Diabhall continues to detangle his very long hair with his fingers, long-since already washed.
"...I would appreciate that, actually. I personally suspect some manner of brain damage," tone still light, chilly, despite the implications of the statement. "But I can't rule anything out as of this moment. I do not want to be kept from my work, but if something is wrong and it should become a problem...well. We can't have that."
Now that they are both talking, the older elf has shifted to his usual affect in these situations...unashamed of his own body, and paying no mind at all to Allumin seeing it. (In fact, might he be stealing the occasional sharp, rosy glance at his compatriot's muscles? Surely, surely not, right?)
After all, whether he recalls it or not, this is far from the first time they have bathed together.
His eyebrows raise at Diabhall's own theory - he highly doubts it's actually that, but he won't say anything about his own for now -, and then he remembers that such a thing is a serious matter to think about and that he should probably have a more considerate and thoughtful expression about this. He tries to make a smooth transition into a pensive nod, but if Diabhall knows him well enough then he will probably recognize the performative nature of it.
"We can try looking into that too - I'm not sure how the magic works exactly for healing here and if there's any way that they can identify physiological anomalies, but it's worth asking to be sure," he says, sort of an appeasement to show that he's listening to the other man's concerns wholly. As he speaks, he sinks down into the bath and leans his head back just enough to make sure that his hair is all wet for washing. Then, he rises back up from the water and begins the careful process of getting it all clean. It keeps his focus mostly on the task at hand, meaning that Diabhall can steal as many looks as he likes without Allumin being acutely aware that he's being watched.
"What will you do if it's something else?" An attempt to pinpoint how, if at all, to propose his own thoughts on the matter at hand.
And of course, of course, Diabhall knows better. He can spot that he is being humored, and for just a moment, that bright gaze of his sharpens, brows drawing together by a fraction, something inside him twisting up. To Diabhall, an anomaly, strangeness, something to be shaken off and dismissed.
To Allumin? A clear expression of frustration, something alien on the face of the elder elf. Something Wrong.
He shakes it quickly, looking away, then back towards Allumin as he sets to washing his hair. Realizing the attention is off of him, he openly watches, enjoying the sight of well-toned muscle in the midst of a strange and uncomfortable (what?) conversation.
The question makes him freeze up. Why does it make him freeze up?
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Late night, baths, after the Ball in Hightown
Diabhall had been cooped up in the Gallows for what had felt like so long, stepping out to something as grandiose as a society event was more than stark. He was no stranger to parties, not at all; the bit of it that struck him as novel was the fact that no one really knew who he was. There was no one vying for his attentions.
Well. Not exactly.
The thing he had certainly not counted on was finding perhaps the only person he would actually regret never seeing again. But...why is that, exactly, he wonders? They had been intimate in the past, certainly, but he also had no shortage of paid company who served that purpose. He had enjoyed seeing the younger elf, but some of the things he had found himself doing at that party felt...strange. Uncomfortable. Aberrations.
For the moment, he is leaning back in the bath, long white hair fanning around his slender frame on the water's surface. His nightclothes are neatly folded nearby, black leather collar placed on top as if in a place of honor. Lost in his own contemplation, he's staring off into the middle distance, idly tracing little patterns in the ripples of the bath.
Peaceful. Alone.
As usual.
hey, come here often?
It shouldn't make his pulse quicken the way it does. After all, he's bathed with his - Eros - he's bathed with Eros and they are two parts of the same person, technically. So it's not unusual, it shouldn't be anything to be nervous about. They are just bathing in the same space. It's not as if they'd even be bathing together, everyone bathes here (hopefully, hopefully everyone bathes). Still, there is a moment of hesitation as he fights his urge to leave and come back later.
No, that's silly. He should just carry on and pay Diabhall no mind.
So, with light steps, he approaches the water and sets his things beside the bathing pool before stepping in. Despite choosing not to entirely evade the man, he still chooses a spot that's a few feet away, leaving a generous amount of personal space between them.
Nah, new here. You the lifeguard?
For a few minutes he is silent, facing away, letting the younger elf settle in. They have both been through such a peculiar day, and perhaps it would be best to let the dust settle...but then, of course, they certainly need the private conversation.
He turns the situation over in his head for a bit, still soaking there, unmoving.
Then, finally, he breaks the stillness with voice alone.
"...Good evening, Allumin."
why yes, and i saw you didn't have a lifeguard at your beach
As he unties the braid in his hair and carefully unravels it, all he can think about now is their encounter. The joke about meeting each other again with the wine, the sight of him and Loki dancing together, then his own dance after that he has a sneaking feeling Diabhall watched (which is such a vain thought but it just feels true)... Seeing the collar again, peeking out from his robes, and now carefully sitting on ceremony a few feet away...
He's staring, and he probably shouldn't be.
this isn't a beach, this is a bathtub
He isn't sure.
There is a long period of silence before he finally shifts, turning to face Allumin and meeting his stare. He appears completely unbothered by being looked at, even as he is, bare and willowy there in the water. For a beat, he still doesn't speak...and then, finally, the words come out.
Hesitation?
"...I would like to apologize for my...conduct this evening." A small clearing of the throat. "I have been feeling a bit unwell since my arrival, and my behavior upon finding you was...stilted, at best."
Idly, he begins to comb his fingers through the sheet of his long white hair, separating the strands.
For anyone else, it would seem a nervous motion.
no subject
But between Diabhall's own words on the matter, and the way he seems different even now makes him wonder... How much did being summoned here and processed into the rules of this world change him? Visually, he is at least mostly the same. Internally... Well, there were the circumstances with Eros.
Would that have affected this, or would this have affected that?
There's silence as he thinks about all of this and what to say.
"You don't have to apologize. I don't know how much you've heard or discussed with others hear about the theories behind rifters and our existence here, but - obviously, in both our cases - it can change things about you." A moment of pause, considering a thought as he begins to go about washing himself.
"Would you feel better about what's happening if we looked at it like a research project? Collecting data and evaluating it to see if we can find an answer? I could see if there's anything else that's relevant archived in the Felandaris offices and cross-reference it even."
no subject
That does complicate things now, mind. And of course Allumin is right...they have both changed.
He just doesn't know to what extent.
"I may not have to apologize, but it is what is correct."
The silence broken and the topic moving along in a businesslike fashion (that's what this is, right? Allumin has been kind to him, of course, but - oh, what is going ON-), Diabhall continues to detangle his very long hair with his fingers, long-since already washed.
"...I would appreciate that, actually. I personally suspect some manner of brain damage," tone still light, chilly, despite the implications of the statement. "But I can't rule anything out as of this moment. I do not want to be kept from my work, but if something is wrong and it should become a problem...well. We can't have that."
Now that they are both talking, the older elf has shifted to his usual affect in these situations...unashamed of his own body, and paying no mind at all to Allumin seeing it. (In fact, might he be stealing the occasional sharp, rosy glance at his compatriot's muscles? Surely, surely not, right?)
After all, whether he recalls it or not, this is far from the first time they have bathed together.
no subject
"We can try looking into that too - I'm not sure how the magic works exactly for healing here and if there's any way that they can identify physiological anomalies, but it's worth asking to be sure," he says, sort of an appeasement to show that he's listening to the other man's concerns wholly. As he speaks, he sinks down into the bath and leans his head back just enough to make sure that his hair is all wet for washing. Then, he rises back up from the water and begins the careful process of getting it all clean. It keeps his focus mostly on the task at hand, meaning that Diabhall can steal as many looks as he likes without Allumin being acutely aware that he's being watched.
"What will you do if it's something else?" An attempt to pinpoint how, if at all, to propose his own thoughts on the matter at hand.
no subject
To Allumin? A clear expression of frustration, something alien on the face of the elder elf. Something Wrong.
He shakes it quickly, looking away, then back towards Allumin as he sets to washing his hair. Realizing the attention is off of him, he openly watches, enjoying the sight of well-toned muscle in the midst of a strange and uncomfortable (what?) conversation.
The question makes him freeze up. Why does it make him freeze up?
"...Something else? Such as?"
His tone is...off. Tight.
Anxious.