[open] post-imprisonment log

[sterngaze]

WHO: Liem & you!
WHAT: Liem is released from the naughty-Kenoma dungeons
WHERE: The Citadel, possibly Achamoth proper
WHEN: After his release on Firaseri 6th
WARNINGS: References to Liem’s imprisonment, including brainwashing, torture, & self-harm

I. The Wounded Option

[Liem is released from the Citadel’s dungeons without fanfare, staggering from his audience with the Regent back to his own rooms and sequestering himself there to recover from the most immediate after-effects of Dionys’s ministrations—or to at least attempt to. Rest is out of the question; the stings and aches throbbing through him would make sleep a struggle even if he could close his eyes without being transported immediately back into Dionys’s clutches. His mind feels like a sieve, his thoughts slipping away from him like water and leaving him only with the jagged edges of the past ten days. The best he can do is nurse his filthy and abused body while he tries to piece his mind back together.

He spends a lot of time alone over the ensuing days, but the observant or well-informed may have noted his return from the occasional servant delivering food or medicine to his room, or from hearing the sounds of activity within it. The sounds of running water are especially obvious, should one happen to walk past while he’s washing.

But of course, he has to tend to his injuries all over again once he’s stripped off the bandages and washed away the salve. Some of them are easier to reach than others, especially given the lingering pain involved in moving around too much. After bandaging his arms and tending the half-healed cuts and bruises on his chest, a short hiss punctuates his attempts to minister the lashes on his back.

Any knock on his door is meet with a brief silence, followed by the door cracking open and Liem’s dark, tired eyes peering out from it.]

Can I help you?

II. The Insomnia Option

[It doesn’t take all that long for restlessness to lure Liem out from the confines of his rooms. The walls start to creep in on him after just a couple days; the quiet starts to become oppressive. It’s too much like his cell in the depths of the Citadel, and it’s too much like his cell in the cathedral back home. Leaving the barren stone and cold, empty bed behind, he ventures out into the Citadel at large, seeking something to keep him occupied.

a. The middle of the night is a strange time to find anyone in the kitchens, but that’s where Liem is right now, smelling of oranges and cinnamon, his sleeves folded back to the elbows and his head bent over a small pie filled with some kind of soft white cheese. Flour dusts the bruises and half-healed bites on his wrists and forearms as he carefully lays a lattice of dough strips over the top, lifting his eyes from his work only briefly as he hears someone come in.

b. Regardless of how sleepless his nights (and his days) have been, or how residual aches from his injuries still plague his waking hours, Liem still turns to training as something that can occupy him even while he’s only operating at 50% at best. Target practice is something he could do even in his sleep, so the deep shadows beneath his eyes and the lethargy in his movements don’t stop him from finding a target to practise with in the pre-dawn hours when most of the Citadel is still dreaming. Stress and exhaustion have made him jumpy, though; the sound of approaching footsteps filters into his awareness slowly, and then in a rush all at once as he whirls to point his crossbow at whoever just walked in.

c. During the day, Liem mostly keeps out of the way in parts of the Citadel that don’t see much use. There’s a spare room near the top of a tower that stays empty for hours at a time, and it’s here that he can be found curled up on a window seat, gazing out of the narrow window while he scratches at a notebook with a stick of charcoal. Or at least, that’s what he’s been spending much of the afternoon doing, if the formless doodles and patterns scrawled across the pages are any indication. Liem himself isn’t available for comment, leaned as he is against the cool stone wall in the grip of a shallow and uneasy sleep.]

III. Wildcard

[Liem can be found around the Citadel or, later on, even out in Achamoth itself. His inbox is also open for post-imprisonment communion! Feel free to hit me up on plurk at Sporelett or DM me on discord if you want to hash out something else.]

Comments

I.

[vivificantem]

[Paul doesn't seem troubled by Liem being...somewhat terse right now; it's to be expected, after everything he's likely been through over the past several days. It's been hard not to hear of those kept in the Citadel's dungeons; it's been a matter of asking the right people, and noting those that are gone. He can't account for some of them, but that doesn't exactly surprise him either; he supposes he'll have to see about those at some later date.

For now, here is Liem, and here is Paul, and Paul's words aren't clipped but they aren't quite as easygoing as usual.]

I don't know if I'm permitted to assist you. But I'm offering at least some degree of healing to you anyway, should you want it.

[sterngaze]

[When Liem sees Paul standing out in the hallway, the door opens just the barest fraction more, revealing a shoulder and arm that have been hastily and temporarily clothed to affect some level of normalcy. A strong herbal scent drifts through the gap, originating from somewhere on his person.

The expression on his face is more haunted than suspicious, but he doesn’t make any immediate move to invite Paul inside when he makes his offer. He simply frowns, turning over what he just said in his mind. He hasn’t seen Paul since he was in Venera weeks ago, and something about his manner now, after everything that happened, is setting him on edge.]

I believe the Regent wants me to be well, [he says finally.] They told me to recover, in readiness for a battle with the Pleroma.

But if your healing is magical in nature, I don’t think I can accept

[vivificantem]

It is, but that doesn't make me incapable of doing things without it.

If you don't want magic, we don't have to use it.

[He can think of a few reasons why one wouldn't; it's likely none of them are correct. But regardless, the offer remains there, unchanged.]

[sterngaze]

[Liem considers this in silence for another long moment before finally pulling the door the rest of the way open, revealing a tidy bedroom that is still almost exactly in the same state as it was when he first moved in three months ago. Bandages and salves lie about on the surface of a small table, near which a chair stands pulled-out for use.

Now fully visible, Liem eyes Paul from the doorway, clad only in slim black pants and a hastily-donned, untucked shirt of the same colour. He stands aside, gesturing for Paul to enter.]

I do have need of another pair of hands. Mine don’t quite suffice to reach my back, in my current state.

[vivificantem]

Of course, that's fine.

[He seems a little strange, still, but he will enter upon the implicit invitation to enter. His gaze takes in the room, just taking note of the major points that fall immediately within his line of sight; he doesn't seem to be judging so much as just making mental notes.]

Asking you how you are is pointless and I know it. I'm going to ask anyway.

[sterngaze]

[Liem shuts the door behind Paul as he steps inside, exhaling a small, sharp breath that could be likened to a laugh by the very charitable.]

I am as well as you might expect.

[His body hurts just about everywhere, especially around his still-healing wounds. He is simultaneously jittery and drop-dead exhausted; thinking about either Dionys or the Regent makes his brain want to buzz right out of his ears. And putting food into his body after so many days of eating nothing at all has made him feel completely vile.

He walks back over to the table, glancing down at the medicine and bandages laid out on it before beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. He continues quietly.]

I’ll be… well, not fine, perhaps, but functional, given a few days’ rest.

[vivificantem]

[Paul keeps his distance for now; closing it can wait until they've gotten the preliminary awkwardness out of the way, and until Paul knows what sort of wounds he's looking at. He expects them to be severe, but he can't say he knows how he expects himself to respond to something like that.

But still, he's here because he offered. Because he likes Liem, and because he doesn't care to leave him without any sort of aid right now.]

I don't doubt either one of those things.

[Both that he's really not doing well right now, and that he'll get himself together over the next few days.]

I'm not here to be weird about it, and say that it's a good thing that you went through all of that. I'm...sorry, for whatever was done.

[sterngaze]

[Liem only has to undo a few quickly fastened buttons to pull his shirt open and slide it, stiffly, from his shoulders. It eases down in halting, ginger movements, revealing a bloodless stretch of back marked with livid injuries the same deep black as his eyes. Most obvious are the long, shallow lashes scoring the length of his back, although there is also a half-healed stab wound visible along his ribs on one side.

Quietly, he pulls the shirt the rest of the way off and lays it, loosely folded, over part of the table. He keeps his head bowed, his gaze on the dark wood.]

No, it’s all right. I brought it on myself.

[After all, he’d accused the Regent of being unwilling to discipline those in his care. He can’t begrudge what happened to him in that quiet, isolated part of the Citadel, not when he’s the one who forced their hand.]

[vivificantem]

[He doesn't have a strong reaction to the lashes, which he imagines can only be a good thing given the circumstances. They're shocking but they'll heal, and that's the important part of all this; he can't say he knows how he feels about the impressive pallor the whole thing has going on, but maybe it's not his job to feel any sort of way about it.]

It isn't really my place to decide whether you deserved it or not. It is to decide whether or not I choose to offer sympathy.

[So, at the very least, there's that. He'll actually approach, then; just looking everything over before moving to retrieve the salve Liem's apparently been using.]

Either way, if the Regent wants you to be well I can definitely facilitate that much.

iia stress bakers unite 🤝

[expiera]

[The kitchens at late night get more visitors than one would expect, Kenoma's shittiest normie teen can probably begrudgingly vouch for it. Ciel wasn't thinking of making anything specific tonight though, it is later than her usual hours, but she did want to take stock of what they still had in the pantry, she did tend to use more... exotic ingredients than what the citadel staff tends to put in their meals.

The scent of cinnamon immediately catches her attention. Someone else? That's a first. They know what they're doing too, it's obvious before she even reaches the door. Which she does give three polite knocks to before opening, it'd be rude to barge straight in without warning.

--Ah. Liem.

She stops, and her expression doesn't betray anything.]

Good evening, Liem. I hope I'm not interrupting?

🤝

[sterngaze]

[Although Liem is high-strung enough at the moment to catch the patter of approaching feet a long moment before Ciel actually arrives, he's still grateful for the knock that heralds her entrance to the kitchen. He's ill-disposed towards surprises at the moment, so he both notes and appreciates her courtesy.

Pausing his work on the pie, he looks up to watch her come in, deeply shadowed eyes noting her apparent lack of reaction to seeing him. Hm. Perhaps she'd already heard of his release from the Citadel staff.]

Hello Ciel. You haven't interrupted, no.

[He returns his attention to the pie crust, and to finishing his weaving of the doughy lattice obscuring the pastry's filling. For the most part, the kitchen around him is neat despite his active use of it, but there are a few signs of cooking about that he still hasn't cleared away: a few bowls and utensils sitting in the sink; a cutting board dusted with dark, crumbly residue; an orange and lemon resting nearby with their peels grated off.]

Did you come to get something? I can be out of your way soon if you wanted to use the space.

[Although it is a strange hour for anyone other than him to be cooking.]

[expiera]

[The tension and wariness in his frame is almost palpable. She's seen him put up with things and be guarded before, she did practically bully out of him the admission that he's half-dhampir. And that was nothing like this, he's more reminiscent of a wounded animal doing his best to stay small right now. One that's trying to hide himself away in what little earthly comforts he can find, in doing something familiar that he's practiced before. Of course she can immediately recognize it; 'takes one to know one', or so the saying goes?]

That's good to hear, and please, don't mind me. I come here sometimes to make late night snacks when the mood strikes me myself, I just got curious seeing the lights on from someone else.

[That said, she quietly closes the door behind her to come take a closer look at what he's quite literally cooking up. Yyyep, that's stress baking.]

I didn't know you baked, that looks and smells delicious. You don't happen to have worked in a bakery before, have you?

[She asks casually, conversationally, almost somewhat teasingly. Let's stick to the mundane for now, yes; no need to strain him any further, especially after God knows what he's been through before.]

[sterngaze]

[Despite the overly precise motions of his hands and the wary set of his shoulders, Liem does smile slightly when Ciel compliments his pie-in-progress. It’s just about ready to go into the oven now; the lattice covering the top is mostly finished, and the oven itself should be a good temperature by now. He hasn’t spent much time at all in the Citadel’s kitchens, but he needed the extra comfort tonight. Perhaps it’s a little nicer to have his labours noticed, as well.]

No, no… I just learned from a friend. He seemed to think I’d benefit from the instruction.

[He says it offhandedly, but there’s a fond tone underlying the quiet remark. Probably plenty of people have looked at Liem and decided he needs to eat better, but his “friend” had been a bit of a busybody. He hadn’t been content to stop at thinking it.

It’ll be some time before the pie is actually ready to be eaten, of course, but despite the pleasant smell already filling the kitchen, he’s not in any hurry to taste it. He mostly just came by the kitchens to make the thing in the first place. Regular food doesn’t always agree with him, so after his time spent in isolation, he’s better off being careful about what he puts in his mouth in any case.

Judging the lattice complete, he sets about cleaning up the pie’s edges before glancing over at Ciel.]

Can you open the oven for me?

[expiera]

[Baking is totally a legitimate and healthy hobby and not some stress coping mechanism, though it CAN be both and who's to even make the distinction, let's be real? This is fine, they're fine.]

Of course, baking is plenty beneficial~! I may be a little biased though, I did grow up in a baker's household.

[She does wonder to herself if he can even eat it at all, or taste what he's making the... well, normal way, but she isn't utterly tactless, and this didn't seem like the greatest time to ask. His fondness is noted though, maybe he's the type who enjoys doing it more than anything else?]

Yes, I'd be happy to.

[She steps up to the oven and does just that, then makes sure to stand aside and give him plenty of room to maneuver comfortably. She'll close it once he's placed the pie and stepped back, no sooner.]

Was there anything else I could help you with, actually? You seem to be quite the neat cook too, Liem, or are you going to say something like the recipe you followed "isn't that complicated"?

[That last sentence was definitely NOT necessary. But well... There's not THAT much to clean up, right?]

[sterngaze]

Is that so?

[He casts Ciel a curious glance as he carefully lifts his creation and slides it into the waiting oven. Liem came from a world that existed without the convenience of electronic kitchen timers, so he simply glances at the kitchen's clock to make note of the time as he moves back over to the sink. He begins stacking the small collection of dishes beside it so he can fill the basin with water.]

I already cleaned everything I used to make the dough, so there isn't that much left to do.

[He uses this excuse in lieu of the one she's already floated—somewhat teasingly, by his estimation. He's certainly made more complicated dishes in his life, but there's no need to convince her of that if she was raised around baking. Instead, he looks over at her again, and this time his expression is somewhat more companionable.]

If you like, you can dry while I wash. It shouldn't take more than a moment.

[expiera]

Mmhm. I think I get the gist of it. What's the pie you just made called? Is there a special name for it?

[It could be called something unique from in his world, or it could actually end up sounding generic like something she's familiar with? There's only one way to find out, and she can't help being curious.

He doesn't seem to react much to her offered "excuse", but more importantly, he's not tensing further, either. She certainly isn't expecting any laughs out of him by poking her nose in here tonight, but the little things help and add up, she does understand that much.]

With everything you've already done, that sounds like more work for you, but this is your kitchen tonight, so your say goes. I'll help you dry. [She'll get ready for just that then, by unhooking a piece of cloth specifically used for that cause. Won't take longer than a few minutes to finish the dishes, hm?]

[sterngaze]

[Liem meets her comment with even-keeled satisfaction as the sink fills with water. He knows full well that he gave her the easier job, and he intends to stick by it.]

I made the mess, so it’s only fair.

[Really, he doesn’t even need to clean the kitchen up. The Citadel staff would certainly do it, when they poked their heads in here in the morning. But before he was landed nobility, before he was a well-off priest in his own hard-bought Opparan townhome, before he was an itinerant inquisitor who had to eat off the same set of dishes every single night—before any of that he was an acolyte living in a modest cell in the Cathedral of Coins, serving alongside the other acolytes and clergy there. And he learned with no room for doubt there that when you live with other people, you keep communal areas clean when you use them. No matter what.

He deposits the small collection of dishes into the basin as it’s finishing filling, fetching a washcloth from a nearby drawer.]

It’s called a crostata. The one I made has cheese in it, but they can be made with just about anything.

wildcarding in the name of sin - firaseri 10thish

[semicharmed]

[ Matt has wanted to see Liem again, of course. After the last time they met, how could he not? But his schedule in Venera got awfully cramped towards the end of their time there; Matt lost track of him. And then he thought he'd give Liem some space. And then ...

Well.

He wound up with an unexpected tattoo, and for a few days, he was the one who didn't want to reach out. But now the stars have aligned (so to speak), and Matt's in his room in the Citadel, initiating communion. ]

Hey Liem. Hope this isn't a bad time.

[sterngaze]

[Liem has been doing his best to get back to some semblance of normalcy over the past few days. He’s taken methodical care of his healing injuries, to the extent that only the mostly-healed stabs and cuts are even still visible, let alone paining him at all. (The medicines here must be more effective than he’d supposed.) He’s wrangled his eating habits back into something resembling a functional diet, despite his body’s best efforts at resistance. He’s also caught several hours of sleep since being released four days ago, which he considers to be progress. And he’s finally started to pick up training again, now that he’s able to move around without pain. After all, the Pleroma will surely be coming for their captured brethren, and the Kenoma can’t be caught unprepared.

When he feels the gentle ping of someone contacting his shard, he’s emerging damp-haired from his washroom to peruse the small forest of hanging clothes in his closet. What will it be this evening: black, off-black, or dark grey? He contemplates this question as he retrieves the shard from his chest to answer its call.]

Matt. [Mild surprise registers through the muted exhaustion and strain that have come to underlay his communions. He knows by now that only he and Barnaby ended up earning a stay in the Regent’s dungeons, but he’d still wondered how Matt ended up faring in Venera.] It’s a perfectly agreeable time. What do you need?

[semicharmed]

[ Matt can't help brightening when he receives a positive--or at least "agreeable," as they say--response. Even if everything else about their circumstances were completely free of stress and strain, you never know how it's going to go the first time you reach out post-hookup. ]

I don't know about need, [ Matt hedges, a hint of playfulness sneaking into his tone. ] But I was wondering if you were busy tonight?

[ He's trying to stay a bit mysterious. He gets the sense that Liem is a little buttoned up, either because of grief over his god or as a natural tendency. So ideally, he'll get Liem to accept an invite before clarifying that it's to go out, at night, for sin. ]

[sterngaze]

[Oh—this is a social call, isn’t it? That seems like the most likely explanation for his contact, although the number of social outings he’s been invited to since arrival could be counted on one hand, unless he includes the times that Paul has brought him along to services.

He has to think about it for a second—not because he has any plans for the evening, but because he’s not entirely sure he’s in the right headspace to be sociable. Matt might not appreciate his company as much as he expects, given how fried his brain feels on the amount of rest he’s had lately.

Then again, that’s not something Liem needs to decide for himself. Matt is surely capable of finding other things to do if he decides he’s poor company.]

I’m not busy, no. [He veers away from the more utilitarian part of his closet toward the clothes that are geared more toward presentation.] You can commandeer me if you like.

[semicharmed]

[ Commandeer, is it? Is that the vibe of tonight? Matt can work with that. His psychic presence practically gleams with pleased eagerness. ]

Great! I can come pick you up, if that works. How long do you need?

[ Matt is technically dressed to go out, but that won't stop him from dithering. He's not used to conceiving of himself as attractive, exactly, that's so subjective; but recently, he's become aware of thinking of himself as un attractive. Lacking. Disfigured, in his worse moments. ]

[sterngaze]

[How long does he need? Liem hesitates, considering. He could be dressed in just a couple minutes, plus maybe a few more to take care of his hair.

But he doesn’t have any strong preferences when it comes to outfits in his Achamoth closet yet, not even including the fledgeling jewellery collection that he hasn’t looked at since before he went to Venera. He still needs time to deliberate.

He probably needs more than just five minutes. Maybe ten.

…]

I’ll be ready in a quarter-hour.

communion > action

[semicharmed]

Great. Quarter hour it is.

[ And fifteen minutes later, Matt rolls up to Liem's door. He's opted for a sluttier version of what he wore on his day out with Kaeya--no undershirt under the blouse this time, so its open drape is enough to show a peek of the emerald lotus on his chest. The sleeves are extravagant enough to cover the black band on his right wrist, but there's not much he can do to hide the fact that his left hand is missing. A thick ribbon is tied around his neck like a choker to hide his shard.

Hopefully, it's not slutty enough to tip Liem off. Matt knocks. ]

[sterngaze]

[It takes Liem almost the full fifteen minutes to put together an outfit he’s happy with and be ready to actually answer the door, but he does manage it. When he swings the door open, he’s dressed in trim little boots, slim, dark trousers, and a patterned shirt and jacket, accented at his ears and fingers by silver jewellery set with banded onyx. His shower-damp hair is combed neatly back, accompanied by a subtly sharp scent like sandalwood and oranges, and a simple black mask dangles from one hand.

He looks very freshly put-together—and also more than a little tired. He’s hoping the latter isn’t obvious.]

Matt. Hello.

[His eyes flick from Matt’s face down to his attire, brushing over the tattoo peeking coyly from his shirt collar, and then back up again.]

You look fetching.