closed.

[exequy]

WHO: Ilias, Isaac, Kostos, Leander
WHAT: Four mages stuck in a library (a bottle episode)
WHEN: Early Solace
WHERE: Outside Starkhaven
NOTES: Probably some violence at some point

Comments

[exequy]

Kostos isn’t looking at Leander, and would give only a passing fuck about his staring if he were. He’s still looking down past Isaac at Ilias, with a sullen, shifting mixture of resentment, and concern, and regret—for Ilias and for himself, because he’d wanted to do it for exactly as long as it took to do it and not many moments more, the same way a dieter wants a piece of cake until they’re looking at the empty plate and wondering what the fuck is wrong with them.

Whether or not he takes it more seriously than cake depends on a definitive answer to the weaver’s disembodied question. The cursing is a good sign, at least, even if the baby’s distant wailing has Kostos’ fingers curling into fidgety fists.

[libratus]

Adrenaline is still quaking under his skin when he grips Isaac's forearm -- almost doesn't, shame sinking his gaze faster than any bruised pride, but his limbs are useful as aspic, ankle buckling with a sharp, stubborn intake of breath under his first attempt at leverage (twisted, not broken) so-- fine. Why not. On top of everything else, why not accept help from the only person in this stairwell he knows has a good reason to be upset with him right now. He pulls the hand back as soon as he's upright; there's a wall he can lean on that he hasn't done anything shitty to today.

"Fine," is hissed down toward the weaver. He wipes at a scuff on his jaw with a sleeve. What a fucking mess.

Maybe anger ought to be what he's feeling. Maybe it looks like that, the shaky expulsion of breath half mocking instead of miserable, the lift of a chin a challenge instead of an exposed jugular.

"Is that all?" is for Kostos.

Or are you coming down here?

sorry for cheapo tag

[wythersake]

"Don't,"

Under his breath. For fuck's sake.

people pay a lot of money for minimalist art

[exequy]

He’s alright.

And Kostos—who does wear his genuine feelings right there on his face, whatever anyone might think is hiding behind the scowls—it’s just that his feelings are almost always awful—

He shifts through furious regret, into relief, into the sort of keenly focused glare that could as easily precede a fuck as a fight. Not in this specific case. In this specific case it would definitely be a fight. But the sort he might feel better after, instead of worse.

Isaac says don’t. Isaac can fuck off.

But he’s barely shifted his feet to start down the stairs when the baby screams again with renewed ferocity, perhaps having realized whatever finger or bit of cloth she’d been given to suck wasn’t going to make life any less confusing and uncomfortable, and Kostos pulls his posture back, focus diverting and darkening, and stays where he is.

He says, “That’s all.”

uninvestigayed: the most accurate typo

[sarcophage]

—On the other hand, by the time anyone turns to look, Leander may already have come and gone, back to the bench and window, leaving the library door not quite closed. It was enough of a snapshot. Any further commotion, within reason, will go uninvestigated unless it comes to him.

(He'll be quiet on the ride back.)

[libratus]

The baby's wail echoes between cramped walls, and Ilias watches Kostos's expression change the way one might a receding lifeline, the whites slipping visible in his eyes for one brief, desperate second. Because a fight would feel so much better right now; because at least that one thing, they might both understand.

But not tonight.

Unfortunately, there isn't actually much of anywhere to go now that he's down here. A screaming child; bodies huddled close and hushed in the dim light beyond. Frustration wells up, works at his jaw; if he has to walk right back up past Kostos right now—

"Don't wait up," turning the other direction instead. He'll go sleep in the rain if he has to.

[wythersake]