IC INBOX for The Last Voyages

[magician_king]

You know what to do.

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[ninefox]

What would you say if I asked you to hurt me.

[magician_king]

Come over here and convince me this isn't a weird flood thing.

[ninefox]

[He laughs, short and sharp, and grinds the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.]

I shouldn't. I'm a little bit drunk, maybe. Sorry. Fuck.

[Only he'd been too ashamed to ask sober.]

[magician_king]

Well in that case, I'm painting my cabin, but why don't you come over and we can talk about it in the morning?

[He asks, with all the gentleness in the world.]

I'll be the one to bring it up.

[ninefox]

[It's the gentleness that gets him, right under the ribs, the generosity of I'll bring it up, which he surely and sorely will need, hungover and doubly guilty. He nods jerkily, chokes out -]

Morning. Thank you.

[magician_king]

Okay.

I'll come pick you up at your cabin. Drink some water before you go to sleep.

[And, quickly, before he loses his courage.]

Love you.

[ninefox]

[He feels cracked and unsteady, but something in his face eases.]

Let me bring you breakfast, instead. Please?

[Partly because it will let him feel less useless, and partly because Fives will be in his room, and Jedao needs for him not to hear this right now, right away.]

Love you too.

[magician_king]

I want to bring you advil.

But- okay, we can do that part in my room. See you when you wake up.

[ninefox]

See you.

[He makes himself a small pot of green tea, and chokes down a ration bar while it brews. The next morning, although he certainly isn't unaware of having shared most of three bottles of tequila with Miss Iris "time lords DO have two livers" Wildthyme, he feels at least vaguely alive. He kisses Fives and gets to the dining hall early enough to beat the line to the coffee, which he suspects will be a more appreciated offering than the fruit and bacon and hard boiled eggs and muffins he piles together to bring to Quentin's room.

He knocks, albeit softly.]

[magician_king]

Quentin, who is sober as judge, answers the door cheerfully, and smiles when he sees him, offering out two gelcaps on the palm of one hand.

"Good morning, Shuos Jedao. How are you feeling?"

[ninefox]

He manages to smile back, albeit rough and rueful at the edges.

"Honestly, the hangover is taking the edge off the feelings better than being drunk did."

Like a pebble in the shoe of his mind, the simple prosaic discomfort impossible not to focus on. Pain demands to be felt.

(Which is exactly -)

He takes the pills anyway, swallowing them dry.

cw discussion of self harm, masochism, the distinction between the two

[magician_king]

"I'm sorry you're having such a hard month."

He says, and takes the plate from him, moving to usher him inside.

"When you brought up pain last night- is that something you've used before when you felt like this?"

He's a bandaid ripper, is Quentin.

cw discussion of self harm, masochism, the distinction between the two

[ninefox]

It shouldn't be, he thinks. They're all such small losses, considering. But the barge is built to turn people vulnerable - and Jedao was leaning into it.

Open to the process, he told Scott, all those months ago. Nothing he learned as a Shuos could prepare him for the consequences of abandoning his lessons.

He sits against the headboard so he can draw up his knees, small and defensive. He stares at them, and swallows.

"When I was alive I didn't let myself feel like this. When I was dead I didn't have any control of what happened."

Which is - flattering himself, really. His control was good enough to get him through forty years on the front, but not without lapses. And -

"I think there were times that I...let it help. If something happened to me anyway." He remembers lurching around wounded on the way to Candle Arc, trying to keep himself upright through the remembrance, until even Rahal Khorais let him sit down early.

[magician_king]

"Okay."

He agrees, and settles in next to him, putting the plate on the bed so they can both pick at it.

"Does that mean this is the first time you've talked to a partner about doing this on purpose?"

Making himself comfortable too, tucking a pillow down under the small of his back.

[ninefox]

"I've asked partners to hurt me because I like it. Not because I - needed it."

He wants to rub the faint scars on his wrists, so easy to miss compared to all the flashier ones. He doesn't.

"I didn't trust anyone enough for that, anyway."

[magician_king]

"Okay."

Says Quentin, and ducks his head a little, so he can meet his gaze, catch his attention.

"Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose when you were feeling upset or stressed?"

He's touched almost every inch of him, but never noticed the signs.

CW self harm, codependence?

[ninefox]

"Nothing...obvious. I'd train or duel until I couldn't think, or practice things that hurt - dislocating my thumbs and my shoulders for escaping restraints, even when that hadn't been a real risk for years. Nothing I had to admit was about me."

He blows out a rough breath.

"Fives and I are already working each other over with excessive dueling practice. I think I've got him mostly worn out, but it isn't enough."

[magician_king]

"What about sadomasochistic sex?"

Asks Quentin, and then pauses, checks,

"Can I play with your hair while we talk, or is it better if I don't just yet?" This is him working consciously on the level of consent-communication they're going to need to do this safely. "I know that's not what you're asking about, but-"

[ninefox]

"I think. Not - just yet." He's not sure he can handle the sweetness and the old bile at once; even if he could, he mislikes them intermixing.

"But if you sit closer I could lean on you."

[magician_king]

A boundary articulated out loud from Jedao is a rare and precious thing, so he doesn't make a fuss about it- rearranges the plate, rearranges the pillows, and settles in to let Jedao curl up to him.

"Sadomasochistic sex. That's what I know most about, so that's where I'm inclined to start, even if we don't fuck while I'm hurting you."

[ninefox]

"I like it. But only sometimes, and I couldn't exactly schedule flings around my moods. Command didn't allow me much leave. And I couldn't - let myself go very deep. Let anyone see that I had anything to be upset about, for me to need - that kind of. Intensity. Bondage was safer. I could let go without betraying myself."

He tips his head onto Quentin's shoulder, fingers tugging at his own pant cuffs, frustrated with himself, feeling like he ought to be more helpful, but not sure how.

[magician_king]

"Okay."

He says, and lets out a breath, thinking through all the questions he could ask, and settling on;

"So tell me a snippet, of what you imagined when you thought of me last night?"

They're so close he can ask quietly, the most private secret imaginable.

[ninefox]

"It wasn't - properly a plan. Just...screaming, white-out, rest. I like the image of being whipped but it probably wouldn't actually break me. And the marks would cause problems. Same for knives."

He touches Quentin's ankle, small strokes with his fingertips.

"Mostly I was just thinking that if you hated the idea, you'd be okay to tell me no."

[magician_king]

"Screaming."

Echoes Quentin, and reaches down, running a thoughtful touch down his forearm. It's not a 'no,' but it is a reevaluation.

"You're looking for a catharsis?"

[ninefox]

"Yes," he says, with a gust of breath, weariness and relief. "Or - escape? Or maybe both."