[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

[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.

[expiera]

Well, no one can make omelettes - or pie in this case - without breaking a few eggs, so that's not saying much. Doing the dishes can be quite relaxing though, there's something strangely soothing about cleaning up.

[She just seldom had the time to herself, being busy for a variety of reasons with her old job being what it was (or rather, how seriously she took it). Ending up on Horos gave her a lot more free time, ironically, and finding Liem in the kitchen tonight links right back to that. Being social really is far more important here than knowing how to kill and do it well, hm...]

Crostata! [She exclaims a bit more animatedly than she needs to, recognizing the Italian naming and... Hm. It's just Italian pie, isn't it? Then again, with worlds being as they are, maybe she shouldn't elaborate and just nod along, that seems wise on second thought.] I think I know of it, yes, and the flexibility of pastries is one of their strongest points. [Confidently declared! Which they have a lot of, but that's besides the point.] Are the ingredients you used this time things you like? I smell orange and cinnamon too, they're a lot more distinctive than cheese.

[For all the chatter, she's well ready to dry any dish and/or utensil he passes her way. Talking is a free action, right?]

[sterngaze]

[It's clear from the slight mellowing in Liem's expression and the easing of his taut shoulders that he very much agrees with Ciel; cleaning up can be quite soothing. Perhaps that explains why he was so dead set on doing it himself, even when no one in the Citadel would expect it of him.]

They are, yes. I like the smell.

[Someone who'd spent time in especially close proximity to him, or who had an especially keen nose, might already have guessed this based on the faint, subtly sharp scent of the cologne he always wears—a scent that speaks of fresh cut wood, citrus, and curls of spice-scented bark. The pastry's cinnamon-and-orange smell isn't particularly strong just yet, but once it starts baking, he knows the kitchen will be suffused with it.

As they talk, he works, scrubbing each dish with brisk, precise motions before rinsing it and passing it Ciel's way.]

I don't expect to eat much of it, when it's done. But I'm sure there are those here who will enjoy it.

[expiera]

[With how defensive he got when she inquired about his diet, his own statement that he doesn't "expect to eat much of it" only confirms he enjoys the process more than the result of his labor. That's perfectly fine, of course; it likely has something to do with his physiology too, not all vampires can taste food normally like the princess of the True Ancestors.

So she smoothly follows his lead, happy to provide the exact amount of help he's allotted her and no more.]

It does smell wonderful. You can never go wrong with cinnamon! [So chirps the spice addict, so never mind the bias.]

I think they're best when fresh out of the oven, it would be a shame to simply let it sit out for too long. [Super hot aside, and it's not like they have microwaves here either. How well can people reheat food using minor fire spell cantrips, anyway?] Have you thought about what you would do, once it's finished baking to perfection?

[sterngaze]

[Ciel’s question makes Liem pause briefly in the midst of his washing, looking up from the few dishes still in the sink to consider for a moment. When he’d come down here some time ago, he hadn’t been thinking about the fact that it was very much the middle of the night, and would still be unbearably early in the morning even by the time the pie was assembled and fully baked. He’d just wanted to make it, or something like it, and once he’d done inventory on the kitchen’s available ingredients, he’d stopped thinking very much at all about the realities of the present or the inevitabilities of the future. His mind had instead been drawn inexorably to the warm, familiar kitchens of his past.]

I was likely just going to set it out for whomever might want it.

[He returns to scrubbing the last of the used kitchenware, attacking it a little less briskly to accommodate his distraction. He doesn’t want to scratch anything.]

Most people would be in bed at this hour. I was surprised to see even you here—but it should still be warm for the early risers, I think.

[expiera]

[That pause is telling enough. She keeps her observations to herself, maintaining her chipper demeanor.]

I'm more of a night person than morning person myself, haha. [She confesses an innocuous fact.] The Citadel is very big and the staff is diverse, there may very well be people still up at this hour doing things. What if we go looking? Or take it to one of their common rooms?

[If he wouldn't mind stretching his legs a bit, regardless of how fruitful the NPC search endeavor at ungodly hours turns out to be? Or they could just stay here, the crostata needs to finish baking first either way. The dishes will be done within minutes now, too.]

[sterngaze]

So I can see.

[Liem favours Ciel with a raised eyebrow before returning to his task, efficiently scrubbing and rinsing a sharp kitchen knife for her to dry. She seems quite chipper despite the hour; late nights must be usual for her, for her wakefulness to agree with her so well.

Her suggestion, that they go in search of people to foist fresh pie upon, catches him completely by surprise. In over a hundred years he has never lived somewhere where people might go looking for someone to share their food with. The closest he ever came to experiencing such a thing were the times during his boyhood that a priest would deliver his meals to him, when he was too ill to leave his cell.

But he’s always happy to stretch his legs, so when the last of the dishes are washed, he looks back at Ciel with an appraising expression.]

We can certainly look. It would give me something else to do.

[As satisfied as he may be with his baking endeavours, he’s still not ready to retire back to his room.]

[expiera]

[Vampire hunters can't very well hunt in the day, now can they? Not the traditional ones at least, and especially if they want to work while avoiding the public eye.

Either way, she looks completely serious with her idea, as she accepts the knife from him from the handle and dries it quickly in practiced motions. Back to the knife block holder it goes; she IS familiar with the kitchen, so it takes her no time at all to place back anything he hands her to exactly where it belonged.]

Let's do that once it's done, then! The Citadel workers may revere us, but that also means they have no good excuse to refuse us when we try fostering upon them tokens of our appreciation. [Did that lowkey sound like bullying? Something like suffocating with kindness? Said with such a bright smile, too? Nah, nah...

Motoring on,]

Putting it that way though, do you not have an established night routine here at the Citadel, Liem?

[He didn't look like he expected her suggestion, that she could chalk up to him not exactly being a particularly extroverted person. But knowing he does best at night, wouldn't he have some sort of schedule in place as how to pass his time? Not nosy, not totally. Just friendly curiosity, really!]

[sterngaze]

[Leaning a hip against the counter, Liem dries his hands as the last of the dishwater drains out of the sink basin. He wonders how much of Ciel’s sunny attitude is genuine, and how much of it is simply meant to put him at ease. He’s never known her to be anything but pleasant with people inside the Citadel, but he distrusts the idea that anyone could be that genuinely happy in their circumstances—especially since she clearly has the presence of mind to avoid acknowledging the haggard look of his face, or the fresh bruises on his naked forearms.]

You sound like you’ve done this sort of thing before, [he observes.

Is this what he’s been missing out on during his lonely nighttime wanderings? Ciel foisting rogue pastries on unsuspecting people? Perhaps it’s fortunate that he’s been spared that particular kind of encounter. It would be rude of him to refuse such an offer altogether, but eating is often such a joyless activity for him.]

My nighttime routine usually involves training, and going out into the city, since that’s when it’s easiest for me to be outside. But I’m not feeling my best right now.

[He’s done what evening activity he could, but his stamina isn’t at its best in light of the past couple of weeks.]

Do you have a nighttime routine?