aionlogs | [open] post-imprisonment log

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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

[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.

[Liem is gratified just as much by the slight deepening of Matt’s flush as by the thanks he offers. He only rarely has the opportunity to witness his blush (or the added pleasure of causing it), which is a shame, because it looks quite charming on him.]

Please do. I’m very curious.

[He eyes Matt with amusement as he takes a sip from his invisible drink, looking for all the world like he’s just miming the activity. The casting might have been unorthodox, but the spell itself looks to have been executed flawlessly. He wonders what kind of uses someone like Matt had for an invisibility spell back in his own world.]

[ Matt says, again, ] Well ...

So energy is channeled into an outcome, and that's magic. The energy can come from anywhere--emotions, mental focus, asking spirits to intercede--there's overlap between these things, of course. For me, the way I first learned magic ...

The theory is that one very accessible, very efficient way of generating magical energy is through sex.

[ Matt doesn't actually want to keep drinking from a glass he can't see: he lets the spell drop, producing something like a sigh in the air around it. ]

[While Matt talks, Liem drinks—and he considers himself fortunate that he has a lifetime of experience keeping his composure in an entire spectrum of social situations, so when he actually reaches the conclusion of the explanation, his reaction is confined to a slight lift of his eyebrows over the rim of his glass. He can’t quite tell if Matt is being serious, or hitting on him, or both.

What kind of books was he reading as a teenager, for that to be his introduction into magical theory?]

Are you saying that you do your best magic in the bedroom?

[He says this with a direct look that implies either complete earnestness, or very deadpan humour.]

That seems like it could be inconvenient to set up.

[ Matt is currently experiencing the jitters that always come with disclosure, on the rare occasions he's attempted it. He's not sure if anyone here really knows how he learned magic, apart from the Regent who seems to know everything. He hasn't even told Ciel. ]

It was in the beginning. [ His lips twitch. ] Before I learned how to channel through my body more generally. But no, I'm not saying that exactly. It's more like ...

Everything has a story, like you said. And the story about pleasure that some religions tell is less about shame, more like ... "Let me meditate on the God of love, oh God who is the forest of flowers. Give me higher intellect, and let the God of love illuminate my mind." [ His lips curl in a sheepish smile. ] Pleasure isn't just heat, it's light too. It's a way of connecting with the divine, and with each other. And that's why it works so well for magic.

Oh, I see.

[Like a light flicking on, Liem’s steady expression lifts into a smile of understanding. It’s not an expression born of kinship; the doctrines of Taldor’s patron of love have never been his. After all, his life has been devoted since boyhood to a far sterner god and a far more unforgiving purpose. But Shelyn’s worship brightened and gentled civilized life like flower-filled gardens dotting the grid of a well-organized city, and although love’s domain was never his business, he recognizes its worth.]

It’s as the saying goes, yes? “Love is the greatest of all things.” Older than civilization, more enduring than fate.

[Truthfully, connection to the divine through sexual release sounded more worthy of the Spirit of Abandon than the Eternal Rose, but the domain of love was certainly within her providence—carnal love just as much as any other kind.]

[ By leaps and bounds, Liem's reaction is way better than anything Matt could have imagined. Maybe he misjudged him--or at least, misjudged the exact timbre of his religiosity. He smiles in a slow bloom. ]

Maybe not the greatest, [ he says modestly. These days, it's hard not to acknowledge the kingdom-crumbling, matter-unmaking force of entropy. ] But it's definitely powerful. I didn't understand all that when I first started with magic, but I always kind of thought of sex differently than other people did. "Felt" more than thought, I guess, but.

[ He takes another drink from his glass, leaving it half depleted. ]

That's why hooking up with you was ... I mean, I know the timing wasn't ideal, but it's important to me, that kind of thing. It has meaning.

[Liem warms a little at the tenor of Matt's reaction—the slow-blooming pleasure of it. It feels good to have connected with him in this small, unexpected way, about a subject that is so clearly close to his heart. He senses that this isn't something he talks about with many people, which lends the revelation extra importance in his mind.]

You feel that way about all sex?

[He lifts his glass, regarding Matt curiously as he sips at its amber contents, then lowers it abruptly as sudden alertness makes him straighten slightly in his seat.]

Oh…

[He squashes the sudden urge to apologise (I'm sorry it was with me.), and spends a moment in pensive silence instead, a slight flush darkening his cheeks in the low light.]

I didn't comport myself especially well on that occasion. But I'm glad that something about your time in Venera could be meaningful.

[Gods know even now, after coming to regret his actions there, Liem still can't imagine feeling good about what they were sent to that city to do.]

It was for me as well.

[ Matt answers Liem's question with a gentle nod and that glowing expression, tentative but undimmed. His eyes are drawn briefly to Liem's cheeks, the dusk on dusk of his coloring in this dimly lit space, before they flick back to meet his gaze.

Speaking of pretty blushes. Matt's never seen anything quite like that. ]

I thought you comported yourself great, [ he says with a crooked smile. ] I mean, everything that happened there was meaningful, [ it would be shitty to Flora to imply otherwise, ] but what we did was ...

It was different. It was good.

So I'm glad you liked it too.

[Granted, meaningful isn't exactly the word Liem meant in that particular context. Obviously everything they did in Venera ended up being quite significant to the people whose lives they upended, not to mention to everyone involved in their captures and executions. He still remembers how unmanned Minegishi had been because of it at the time—and how he still seemed to be, weeks after the fact.

So fulfilling would have been a better word. He couldn't really say uncomplicated, but Matt's right; it was good. He offers a small smile back in return.]

I appreciate you saying so.

[He still thinks he embarrassed himself at least a little, and he definitely isn't proud of the fact that he ended up having sex with Matt on a rooftop mid-assignment, but at least the experience was enjoyable.]

Generally speaking, I try to avoid having sex in semi-public places. Even if it's tempting in the moment.

[ Matt laughs, again with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. A bit of a thrill, too: one that starts at the base of his spine and crawls up, up, coiling around his heart and shuddering down his arm. Warming his veins down to the tip end of his missing fingers. It's a heady consideration, the idea that something about him--about him and Liem--overcame Liem's natural hesitations. Like, all rationalizations and morality and appropriateness aside, is there anything hotter than someone finding you so irresistible that even when they know they shouldn't, they just have to have you? ]

That is ... noted. And super flattering.

[ Matt knocks back the rest of his drink at a go. Gasps. Offers Liem a smile. ]

What about dancing in semi-public places? Do you do that?

[A wry smile slowly steals over Liem’s expression as he regards Matt from his place next to him on the couch. He hadn’t meant to be flattering, but he’ll certainly take that, if that’s how he wants to interpret Liem’s poor head for liquor and latent desperation for intimacy. Besides, he’s right to suppose that he’s at least a little bit irresistible, at least by Liem’s standards.]

Is that what the people in here are doing?

[He takes a more modest drink from his glass, not being quite willing to follow Matt’s example and down the rest all at once, and lifts an eyebrow. He’s used to dances involving a bit more structure and a little less gyrating, but perhaps that’s just his Taldor-centric bias coming out.]

Give me a moment to finish my drink, and you can find out.

[ Matt huffs, amused. ]

I guess it's a little more like a rhythmic hug, but that's the way they do it where I come from. Colloquially, at least. [ Nobody on this doomed world needs to know about Matt and Katy-Rose's misadventures with Northern California cotillion. ] Take your time. I think another act's about to come on.

[ The current music is feathering away, notes drifting softly into the air like evaporating droplets. Anticipation hangs in the space where noise used to be. ]

[Liem’s smile grows slightly more crooked at Matt’s description of the local dance style—and apparently his own world’s as well. It certainly implies some different things about the purpose of the activity in this particular circumstance, which were not at all true of dances he’s taken part in back home. Fortunately, he doubts that this particular dance will be difficult to pick up.]

How charmingly foreign, [he murmurs, half to himself, as the music begins to draw quiet. Despite the consternation the last performance caused him, or perhaps because of it, his eyes slide curiously around the club, drawn by the anticipation hanging in the air. His drink is neglected for the time being.]

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