driftfleet | mingle a little Mor tonight

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mingle a little Mor tonight

Who: Everyone!
Broadcast: Sure!
Action: The wonderful world of Mor, nearby way-stations, and ships!
When: The first week or so of arrival

[this is it-- Atroma's surprise vacation stay for you all! it's time to explore, speculate, relax, and totally behave yourselves. right?

how are you all dealing with the ever-so-educational volcano? have you played around with the visual toggle on those collars yet? aren't they cool? aren't these peasant clothes rad? if you haven't had a decent meal since Abeo, maybe you could afford some of that authentic farm-raised meat they have here. historical!

I bet you're all excited and completely thrilled to be here! who wouldn't be? ...so, make some discoveries, make some friends, and have fun!]

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Well, that depends entirely on what kind of a drinker you are!

[hey, there's a better smile. he tilts his head, lazily, as he explains--putting a different finger down on the table for every step.]

There's the drinking stage, intermittent with the small-talk stage. There's the stage where we tipsily discuss science. Somewhere after that there's the stage where you've had a few too many drinks but determinedly try to tell me about morals and gods and whatever political opinions you may or may not have.

[--he claps one hand against the other, suddenly.] There's the stage where you feel compelled to start making friends and try to explain to strangers that you love them even though you've only known them for a couple of minutes. At some point we go outside and enjoy the feeling of night, because our faces are numb and the air is clear...

[...he starts giggling. this is not quite where he wanted this to go. hm. his words sound clear, but his motions are a little sluggish. he takes a deep breath.]

And maybe lay in the grass. There might be ticks, though. Haven't thought about it very hard. Did you get your shots while you were in the volcano... thing?

I have. [The waitress comes back with their drinks and Mattias accepts his before it even reaches the table, smelling the flavor before taking a sip.]

So you brought me for love confessions. I see. Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm much more likely to set someone else up.

[He takes another, longer sip.] I have a drunken habit of pairing strangers together.

Really? [he leans forward.] Like who?

[Mattias sighs, rolling his head on the back of the booth so he could better survey the room. After a couple minutes, he nods across the room to a freckled redheaded woman that leans forward everytime their waitress comes around.]

That woman there. The redhead with the scar across her face. She's nursing interest in the waitress.

[Taking another sip of whiskey.] A couple more drinks, I'd probably urge her to confess.

[he seems so interested... turning with curiosity, especially because he'd already noticed the redhead girl and been wondering the exact same thing. maybe they're both reading too much into it, but he still looks over, lips curling into a smile without him.

it takes him... a little too long to turn back to Mattias, but none of that is gone when he does.]

I've changed my mind. After a couple of more drinks, I want to take you out. Have you been to the forest yet? I don't know. [okay. he might be tipsy.] I'm still thinking. I'm glad you're here.

[I want to take you out. I'm glad you're here. His fingers curl tightly around the glass. Was there any other way to respond?

Mattias doesn't care if Robin's slightly tipsy. Doesn't mind if this is all an act or if he's charging headfirst into yet another mistake. He downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp and slides it across the table. For once, he isn't blushing.]

I fear you've given me good incentive. Waitress! [He flags her down and, puzzled, she comes shuffling over.] Beer, this time, please. [A beat.] Two of them.

[To Robin:] I'll have yours if you don't want it.

[oh, Mattias. way to win his heart. he laughs with gusto, though the noise just gets swallowed up in the wood and the rambunctious noise of the rest of the bar.]

Yes sir! And I promise-- [he picks up his current drink with something of a small salute. miraculously, he doesn't spill.] We can leave whenever you decide this isn't our scene, got it?

How gracious of you.

[The beers come faster than the whiskey, the foam sloshing over the sides. It's the start of a larger mess and a longer night. The glasses multiply, his speech hastens and he dives from story to story with each drink finished. They're menial things, comedies of error from his youth. Tales of ballroom mishaps and cruel classmates, things that will make Robin smile, make him laugh, and bring Mattias the warmth that alcohol can only subrogate.

He's nearly through telling a bawdy tale about one of his uncle's crazy match-ups when the sixth glass is downed, laughter hidden in his voice.]-so she's on me, naked, pushing her... big, beautiful tits in my face, yelling at me "is this not enough?! Am I not enough, you pig-headed prick?!" And I have to tell her, I have to actually reach between her legs and gesture a bit, and say "no, darling. It's simply all in the wrong place."

[Chuckling, he speaks to the rim of his glass, swallowing the last of the ale.] And that was the last time Uncle Martell set me up with a woman.

[he only laughs harder as the drinks disappear. he keeps up with Mattias, but turns down the beer in favor of something stronger. he's got a hell of a regerating liver to beat into submission, after all. he seems to be a very care-free drunk, at the very least--everything about him still there, just multiplied. louder, lighter, inappropriate, gushing--and he seems to say the first thing that pops to mind, a lot. easy to distract. silly. care-free.

right now, he slaps his hand down on the table, tears in his eyes. actual tears of laughter. he has to wipe them away between gasping for breath.]

Mattias-- Mattias, no. You didn't! How are you still alive...

[with a giggle, he drains the last of his glass. sets it down with the care and overcompensation that only comes from being drunk.]

Oh... Isn't that just the way, though. Swear there's an Uncle like that in every family.

Why is it an uncle, though? Why isn't it the father who's a prick about "spreading the seed"? Damn backwards, that.

[Mattias braces his hands on the table, bending them with every stressed word before pushing off and slouching back.]

Ah, hell. Nevermind that. Laugh for me again. I'll need it to-uh-boost my confidence or some such. [Slovenly, he waves his hand as if in hopes of drumming up a good reason for his request. From the corner of his eye, he sees it. A group of burly men playing poker at a nearby table. There's four of them but only two matter. He can see them making eyes at each other from here. Nevermind that they're playing a game and one has a ring on his finger!]-For a match. That's it. I'm got business to attend to. Need courage for it. That's it.

[he hasn't laughed this much in a long time. a very long time. he hasn't gotten wasted and giggly since those days all the way back in Skeleton City, when he and Vincent and their friends at the bar would laugh so hard that they'd fall over themselves, clutching their sides, trying to keep their friends from hitting the floor.

it feels almost like that again. almost like the ghost of an outside world is long behind him. he reaches forward, grabbing Mattias' upper arm--] Hey hey hey-- [--and stumbles headfirst into another fit of giggles. he drops his head. his arm is heavy, just hanging there. but he comes up for air again, lungs burning, thrilled.]

No, come on. Don't go do that, let's go talk more. Come on. Go, go.

[he throws a bunch of chips on the table. he tugs him away. come on. don't look at those other people. just him.]

Well, if you insist. [He laughs again, every giggle from Robin earning a broader smile.] Though I wouldn't mind doing more than talk!

[They stumble together and planets quake as their shoulders touch, their arms bump, their legs criss-cross. It's only at the door that Mattias realizes his breath has been stolen from him, thrown with abandon into laughs and looks. The air around them feels tighter, binding them together in claustrophobia. In a sickening way, it's sweet and he wonders how long they can stay like this, threaded together.

It's not long.

The door opens up and his stomach drops. The night sky lays thick outside, the solitude of the stars swallowing any candlelight the villagers might emit. The noise of the tavern dims as the door drifts close, sealing them in an oppressive silence. Crickets, with their twitching jazz, illuminate the night with faint sounds too soft to notice and too loud to forget. They create a synth that buzzes in his ears and send tremors through his heart.

It's when he tries to back away that he notices he can't move, limbs too heavy and unresponsive. The ground is close to him and he wonders when that happened. When did he stop looking at the sky? When had his hands felt the ground, dry and alien beneath his fingertips. The soil, he thinks, feels weird. Unnatural.

This isn't his home. This isn't his sky. These might not even be his legs? No, he's pretty sure they are. But the sky, the dirt, the grass and fields-all of that is too ideal.

He's living in a dream. The dream he always wished for, the one he fought and bled for, the dream hundreds were sacrificed for and yet...

It was terrifying.

Throat thick, he pulls on Robin's arm, cracking a nervous smile.] Hey, let's be back inside. Let's go. It's warm there. [Warm. Saying it only reminds him. It's cooler. Cooler like it was in her nocturnal embrace. His grip tightens.] Nowhere for us to go out here. Inside would be better.

[He doesn't want to see the night.]

[to him, well, he just watches Mattias stumble with him across the tavern and out the front door--before his friend is suddenly anxious to go back.]

Huh?

[no one around. he looks, eyes and mind... but it's just a couple of vagrants, and people in their houses. they don't like the night much. he would have though Mattias would love it out here... isn't this what his previous goddess was all about?]

Hey, hey... There's nothing out here, it's fine.

[maybe it's something else that's got him spooked, but... Robin still gathers him up, quickly pulling him closer, hands on both of his shoulders.]

I'll keep you safe. Don't worry about it.

Keep me safe? [He giggles.] That's cute. I like that. [Wants to believe it, too. Robin's arms look like they hold a secret strength, he wants to feel it wrapped around him, protecting him from all the consequences.

When he shakes his head it's like weaving, his head sliding from one side to the next. ]

You can't, though. No one can. [He's locked on the track, the only thing he can do is shift direction. Still...] It's nice to know that you want to. I like that. I like thought that you'll keep me...

[The thought of stability keeps him warm. He cozies up to the thought, to the idea of Robin giving it, and stays there, lost in another imaginary ideal that reality will surely break. But that's fine. For now, he's lost. For now, he can feel Robin's hands upon him, blissfully unaware or apathetic to the fact that they're gloved. The grip is enough. The heat is enough.

Chuckling, he pushes his forehead into Robin's shoulder. His own hands have long since moved, holding the upper part of Robin's arms as he spoke but he only now realizes it. The grip is tight, likely painful, but he doesn't ease up. It doesn't seem that important a thing to do.] I want you to promise to... [he swallows a deep breath] ... to not tell the other me what I said. Get it? You have to... have to promise.

Oh, little Nightjar...

[normally he'd have something lovely and poetic to say. maybe promising on the moon and stars, or something like that. he's a charmer. it'd hook him pretty bad.

...but instead, he smiles wide and lets go of Mattias, only to suddenly bend down and scoop him up into his arms. rather like picking up a helpless damsel, really. he's much stronger than he should be, able to pick up someone his same size as easily as if they were a hollow doll.]

You're drunk. [a uneven giggle.] But I won't tell, I promise. Promise, promise.

[The ground jerks away from him. His stomach lurches, then quiets, though his gaze is filled with a spiraled world. He grips at Robin's shirt subconsciously, nesting his head against his shoulder while his world reels to a stop. It's then that he pieces together what happened. Figures out why there are hands where none should be and why, despite that, he doesn't feel like protesting.

Well, okay. The answer to the latter question is obvious.]

This is... very intimate. [It's an improvement on walking, for sure. Idly, he wonders if there's a way he can convince Robin to carry him all the time. It seems much more efficient.] I can hear your heart.

[It's soothing. He smiles, only vaguely aware that the night exists around them, chasing them with every step. Robin is too captivating, too distracting to pay it heed and for that, he's grateful. Glad to have the butterflies over the tremors, the serenity over the fear. He hiccups a giggle.] I bet you carry everyone like this.

[It's a joke or maybe a need for validation. He wouldn't mind hearing that he's the only one.]

Hm... [he walks with him.] Only the cute ones.

[maybe it's not a perfect answer, but it is at least a compliment. lucky for Mattias, he walks steadily now that he's got something to pay attention to. the air is cold and his face is a little numb. he's doing well, regardless of what Mattias feels.

his heart is nice and steady. he thinks he remembers which ship Mattias is on... he'll take him back, tuck him in. make sure he does all right.]

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mingle a little Mor tonight

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