aionlogs | [open] post-imprisonment log

Entry tags:

liem talbott: champion

[open] post-imprisonment log

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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. ]

Edited 2022-08-12 01:53 (UTC)

[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.

Hi. [ Matt does a similar down-and-up, noting with appreciative curiosity the rings and earrings, the woodsy scent hanging in the air, the touchable-looking texture of that shirt. ] So do you.

[ He also smells great, though that's not generally considered appropriate to say.

Matt notes signs of tiredness on Liem's face, but he can't blame him. He knows Liem struggled in Venera--maybe as much as he himself did--and a little moral exhaustion is only natural. That's what makes his evening plans all the more important. As they head towards the entrance to the Citadel, Matt explains, ] I thought it'd be nice to get out of here for the evening. Have a drink, unwind a little bit? You can't serve from an empty vessel and all that.

[For now, Liem is fine with being a little bit in the dark about the particulars of their outing. He accompanies Matt easily enough as they begin to make their way out of the Citadel, grateful for the diversion after the past few days. He doesn’t know whether Matt just hasn’t realized the significance of his absence over the past couple weeks, or is deliberately avoiding the topic, but either way, he’s glad for the opportunity to think about something else.]

Hm. You make a good point.

[As they walk, he slides the mask into place; he’ll be grateful for the anonymity once they enter the city proper.]

How fortunate for me that I get to benefit from both your company and your wisdom. Where are we headed?

[ Matt chuckles, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. He can't tell if it's a line or not, but either way, he can't help feeling flattered by it. Warmed. ]

Is it okay if it stays a surprise until we get there? [ Matt reaches for Liem's wrist, though not to grab: just to brush two fingertips to the inside. ] I will say that we can get a drink there, and that the music's good ... for Achamoth.

[ Though to be fair, he does like his grunge folk band friends. He feels like he'd definitely pay for their music if he'd encountered it back home. ]

[Liem is surprised by the brush of contact on his wrist—but it’s a pleasant surprise. The nerves he’s been afflicted with since his release have only made his loneliness more acute, and he shifts a little closer to Matt as they walk, pulled in by that little connection.]

All right.

[He’ll find out soon enough in any case; for now, he’ll allow Matt his mystery. He’s not sure he really wants a drink—or, more accurately, he’s not sure he should partake of one in Matt’s company. But he should be fine as long as he paces himself, and a little music and idle conversation wouldn’t go amiss. He could stand to unwind just a little bit.]

In that case, tell me about the music you prefer.

[That can occupy them while they make for their mysterious destination.]

[ Matt telling Liem about the kind of music he prefers involves a lot of descriptions of moods and tonal qualities, rather than any clear references to genre or specific instruments. Though he does hum some of the tunes he can remember in order to communicate his preferences. Just from songs he's heard in Achamoth; nothing from home.

Not tonight.

They wend their way through the Entertainment District. Matt leads them into the mouth of an alley that isn't immediately obvious, down a few of its stony turns. Finally, he pushes open a nondescript door. And pulls them into ...

Well.

It's not the Moulin Rouge (not even the Baz Luhrmann version). The ceiling isn't high enough, for one thing. And the stage at the far end of the room shows a fairly sedate, if esoteric, performance. But it's a thrumming place, oozing music that tugs and undertows. Couples sway closely together, on the dance floor or sprawled on the couches that line the walls, and everyone seems dressed to show off their body to a lesser or greater degree.

Matt tugs Liem along towards the bar. ]

Please let me pick you a drink. If you don't like it, you can make me drink it.

[By the time they turn into that nondescript little alley, Liem has an inkling that perhaps there was a reason why Matt didn’t want to volunteer the kind of place he was taking them. Perhaps he astutely guessed that Liem might use the walk there to persuade a change of destination, being not particularly enamoured of the extent to which many Achamite establishments devote themselves to their patrons’ pursuit of hedonism.

And when Matt pulls him inside, he’s… well. Wary is too strong a word, but he’s definitely skeptical. As he’s steered towards the bar, Liem eyes the performance going on at the far end of the room, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Perhaps to most people the dim lighting provides a suggestion of modesty to the mostly nude performers, but Liem has no such luxury.

Already he feels conspicuously overdressed.]

Mm… I’m sensing that the music is not why you come here.

[He tears his eyes away to look back at Matt, which is objectively a mistake on his part. The firm set of his mouth falters as he catches sight of his expression.

His brief sigh is swallowed by the club’s music.]

Very well, [he accedes.] I’m sure I wouldn’t know what to order in any case. The bar we visited after the welcome party mostly stocked drinks I’d never heard of.

[Was that the last time Liem visited an Achamite bar? Chances are looking good that the answer is yes.]

[ Matt nearly bursts out laughing at Liem's expression. He looks like he's about to give the performer a stern talking-to or something. But as their eyes meet, that look starts to fade, replaced by ... Matt isn't sure what to call it. It's softer, less certain, and--he's pretty sure about this part--it's because of him.

It always enchants Matt to see his effect on a partner. Usually, though, that's within the bounds of sex or intimacy--the gratification of feeling his touch produce a sigh, a moan, a shudder. Matt's never thought of it in these terms before, but there's something just as arresting about watching Liem's resolve melt. It puts ideas in Matt's head. ]

Awesome. [ He beams. ] You're in good hands. Or--you know.

[ After a moment's conference with the bartender, Matt turns back to Liem with a glass of golden liquid, topped with sprigs of mint and a pale sliver of citrus. Once he's passed it along, he takes an identical glass for himself. ]

Let's find somewhere to sit. And for the record-- [ A slight curl of a smile, playful. ] --the music here is integral to the experience, I'll have you know.

[Liem still isn’t sold on this establishment as a place to unwind, regardless of Matt’s pitch or the languid mood among the patrons. The atmosphere here drips with sensuality in a way that is decidedly outside of his own experience. Oppara may have had seedy clubs to rival this one (Did it? It probably did; Opparans enjoyed excess.), but he certainly never visited them.

More saliently, he never would have visited one in the company of anyone he actually knew. Even though Matt is the one who chose the venue, Liem can’t help but feel a little awkward at the prospect of letting himself be at home in a place like this in front of someone who is essentially a colleague from work. It’s only Matt’s sunny beam that convinces him to relax even fractionally as they stop at the bar.

He accepts the offered drink smoothly, lifting it for a curious sniff as Matt turns to get his own glass. When he mentions finding a place to sit, Liem takes another appraising glance around the space.]

Hm, [he says again, this time with wary curiosity.] How much of what goes on in here is integral to the experience, would you say?

[ Matt smiles, but the look he gives Liem is almost tender. He wants Liem to loosen up--he's positive it'd be good for him--but he doesn't wanna torture the guy. ]

Nobody's going to dunk you in a pool of water, if that's what you mean. [ Tragically, Matt can't hold a drink in one hand any take Liem's in the other anymore; he has to trust that Liem will come with him as he winds his way between couples and groups. ] If I get drunk I might flirt with you, though.

[ Matt at least takes care to select a couch in the quietest corner available. Curtains drape from the ceiling to offer, if not privacy, then a small sense of differentiation. ]

[It’s the soft look that helps to put Liem at ease more than the joking (he’s pretty sure it’s joking) reassurance. He follows Matt through the groups of gently swaying people, his drink cupped carefully in one hand, until they find an unoccupied corner that’s sheltered from most of the club’s noise and activity. When they get there, he aims him a raised eyebrow his way.]

Only then?

[He’s definitely being teased now. Why else would Matt bring him here if not to flirt? Unless his behaviour on that rooftop simply made him think Liem would prefer this sort of place, which occurs to him now as a real possibility. With that harrowing thought, he slides onto the couch, adjusting the hang of his jacket automatically as he does.

Tilting his head, he adds quietly,] You could do it sober, too. I wouldn’t tell anyone.

[ Matt settles onto the couch beside him, taking a sip of his drink and exhaling in satisfaction. It's tart, a bit sweet, with a lingering herbal aftertaste--just like he remembers from the last time he was here. As Liem speaks, Matt first breaks into a bright, startled smile; then he laughs. ]

Oh! Well, if you promise you'll keep this between us ...

I love this jewelry on you. [ Matt sets his glass down and reaches out gently, brushing a fingertip to the onyx at Liem's ear. ] I'd never think to wear something like this.

[ He withdraws decorously to reclaim his glass, shooting Liem a small smile--pleased with himself, but almost shy. Like, he hopes the first thing to pop into his head was fine? But he doesn't know Liem well enough to be sure. ]

[Liem slides Matt a small, conspiratorial smile as he sets his glass down to indicate the jewellery studding one ear. He rarely wore black stones before coming to Horos; it always seemed a bit grim in combination with his lenses and the dark eyes beneath. But grim is in vogue here, and he has to admit, he does look good in black.]

No?

[He takes a thoughtful sip of his drink, letting his eyes wander over Matt's face, down his neck and to his fingers where they rest on his glass. The drink, he decides, tastes quite compelling. Fortunately, there's no need for Matt to drink the rest.]

I think a bit of ornamentation might suit you quite well.

[ Matt's smile changes under the path of Liem's regard: losing light, but gaining heat. He takes a quick sip from his glass. ]

Really?

What would you style me in?

Hm, right now?

[Liem tips his head slightly in thought, letting his glass dip down to rest on the table for the moment. His eyes slide back up to Matt's, taking in the new character of his smile with acute interest.]

Grey tourmaline, maybe. [He reaches a fingertip to brush against the back of Matt's thumb.] Here. [And again, at the hollow of his throat, just below the thick band of ribbon circling his neck.] And here.

[ Matt exhales gently at Liem's touch. He's slightly amused by the thought of himself wearing jewelry, but mostly, he's pleased. Pleased that Liem has an answer, that he's willing to spend a moment contemplating Matt in such an aesthetic and particular way. When Liem brushes the hollow of his throat, Matt sighs. ]

It'd compete with the shard, [ he murmurs. ] But--that's nice. I've read that tourmaline dissolves negative emotions. Like breathing ... when the air travels through your lungs and into your blood, and goes down a thousand little pathways ... it takes all that pain and disruption and makes it manageable. Leaves you with love.

[ He quirks a small smile. ]

That's what I've read, anyway. I don't use a lot of stones in my practice.

Really?

[Curious, Liem turns his body slightly so he's facing Matt as he leans against the back of the couch. He takes another careful sip of his drink.]

I know very little about the magical properties of… well, most things, really.

[Magical reagents were mostly unimportant to him in his pursuit of spell mastery during his studies. And now, of course, the only stone he needs to worry about while spellcasting is his shard. But it's already become abundantly clear to Liem that Matt relies heavily on his magic—perhaps especially so in this world.]

What do you use, then?

That's a shame, [ Matt says, still smiling. This is one of his favorite subjects in the universe; apocalypse hasn't changed that. ] Most things have magical properties.

Most of what I use is herbs and plants, though. There's a lot of them, it's easy to make more, they're way cheaper than crystals ... and they usually have stories attached. A lot of rich meaning.

Plus, [ Matt fiddles with his glass, momentarily unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. He takes another drink to buy time. ] Plants are so connected to breath. And breath is right at the heart of how I learned to cast spells, so, it feels like a natural connection to me.

[As Liem listens to Matt talk, the hubbub of the club seems to soften around him. He settles a little more easily against the couch, cupping his glass again as he regards his companion, letting the mingling patrons and unclothed acrobat and thrumming music all fade into the back of his awareness. He likes the expression Matt's wearing now; he wishes he could see more of it.]

Everything has some kind of story, [he points out.] Whether it's told over months, or years, or centuries, or more.

[He takes another thoughtful sip of his drink, regarding Matt over the rim. If those stories affect a reagent's use in spells, what does that mean for the story of the caster?]

What kind of magic do you practise? I haven't ever had cause to see you use much of it.

Yeah, [ Matt agrees, nodding as he warms to the point. ] That's true. In that case, to be more precise ... herbs and plants tend to have richer cultural stories that are told about them than a lot of other things originating in my world. And I connect to those stories more easily.

[ At the question, Matt's smile turns crooked and bright, almost like he's been caught out. ]

Well, ah ... fundamentally, I channel magic through my body. Breath, like I said. I kind of syncretized my system, but it's based out of two main traditions from my world: western esotericism and tantra. [ He quirks a grin at Liem between sips of his drink. ] Does that make any sense at all?

[The mention of breath by itself doesn’t get Liem anywhere in particular. After all, a good deal of focus and precision is required in spellcasting, so starting with control of the breath sounds entirely reasonable for any magical discipline. Even when Matt’s expression turns a little crooked and he mentions channelling magic through his body, Liem still isn’t sure where this conversation is headed. The specifics certainly don’t sound familiar based on what he knows of non-divine spellcasting traditions, but neither do they seem like they should be producing the particular expression that seems to have stolen over Matt’s face.]

Neither tradition sounds especially familiar to me.

[Perhaps that’s what Matt is expecting, considering that by definition, something called western esotericism seems as though it wouldn’t be widely understood. The word tantra is completely unfamiliar, though Liem continues to regard him with open curiosity.]

It sounds a little like meditation?

Exactly. [ Matt nods, pleased that Liem grasps at least this piece of it with little prompting. ] Meditation is a big part of the foundation of it, since that mindfulness is what gives you the beginnings of control over your body and breath. Breath is energy, you know? Life. And magic is just a way of channeling energy. So the breath flows in--

[ He demonstrates with a few easy, rhythmic breaths, a count he barely has to keep track of anymore. ]

--and I fix the outcome in my mind. And--

[ Matt's breath catches. A swirl of golden sigils surrounds his glass, creating a perfect circle for a fraction of a second.

The glass disappears.

Matt's gaze flicks to Liem. He's briefly breathless, his lashes dipping and his cheeks faintly flushed. ]

[Liem watches—first politely, then as intently as a cat watching backyard birds—as Matt demonstrates what it looks like for him to cast a spell. The noise in the club makes it difficult to hear the change in Matt’s pulse or breathing, but he can see the change in the subtle rise and fall of his chest and shoulders, in the flutter of his lashes and the flush touching his cheeks. As his glass disappears from view, Liem forgets for a moment that he’s even holding his.

His eyes linger momentarily on the empty space between Matt’s fingers.]

I’ve never seen an invisibility spell cast like that before.

[When he slides his gaze back up to Matt’s, his expression has gone from appraising to coyly appreciative.]

You have a very pretty blush.

Well, like I said, [ as he gets his breath back, ] I pieced this system together on my own, from books and things. So even if we were from the same world, there's a chance it'd look funny to you.

[ Matt tracks the change in Liem's expression with curiosity. A flicker of heat in his belly, already molten and shimmering from the small display of magic. And when he speaks--

Matt flushes a little pinker. ]

Thanks. [ He likes that turn of phrase, "pretty blush." It's flattering, of course, but it's also charmingly old-fashioned. Matt carefully raises his invisible glass, his lips finding the rim, and sips. ] I'll tell you something else about my magic, if you want to hear it.

communion > action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject