XOqNI

[tongueamok]

Hello, this is Carlisle. I mean, it's not Carlisle as in I'm actually answering you right now, so if you're trying to reply to me at the second, you should probably save your breath because I'm not really here. This is some kind of a recording of my voice, but this is my communicator. I'm going to assume these devices are as common here as they are in other places — not my world, but others, ones more technologically advanced than where I come from— so if you'd like to leave me a message, then you may do so here, or er... Right. Here is fine. So just leave yo— [beep]

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[glacius]

That gets Glacius to frown as he battles with a spike of guilt in his guts. "Ah--I am sorry, Carlisle! I... suppose I got carried away in the heat of the moment, wanting to make you feel simultaneously empowered and loved... but I did not think of how you have suffered in the past. I thought that my energies would nourish yours, but I didn't consider the possibility of overload. I... should have been more careful."

The pale alien sighs, coming back over to sit down next to the bundled-up human once more. He really does need to go start regrowing his icy skin, but this takes precedence. "And it is of the utmost importance that I never make you uncomfortable, when we are being physically intimate or otherwise. I wouldn't mind sharing with you again," and that decision is only reinforced by Carlisle's respect of his boundaries, not just assuming it is something that may happen again in the future, "but... if you are unsure of something that is happening, you must promise to tell me so that I can take of it."

Glacius pauses for a moment, looking at the clergyman as he lowers his slightly. A moment later he extends his hands, palms up, as if requesting Carlisle to take them. "...May I see?"

[tongueamok]

Carlisle gives a half-smile to that, one more sheepish than ashamed. "I was... admittedly so enjoying the moment with you that I did not realize it was beyond my current capabilities."

He sets his hands into Glacius', readily taking his offer; the veins along his arm are visible, those soft scars seared into his skin trailing upward and vanishing by the time they reach his elbow.

"Perhaps we could try it again when we are not in the, er... midst of unrepentant passion, but you did nothing wrong, Glacius. I felt incredible when overcome with your energies, better than I've- I've maybe ever felt, and closer to you than I could have ever imagined. I... I want that. I want to be closer to you."

[glacius]

Carlisle's half-smile is met with a full one of the alien's own; it's quiet, somber as he studies the scarring in his veins, but it's a smile nonetheless. "Well... if you weren't aware this was happening, then it must be a testament to how good it felt. But I would still like to be more careful in the future. I don't want to hurt you..."

But he's touched that the clergyman still wants to pursue this possible connection between them regardless. Glacius drifts spindly fingertips carefully up and down his partner's arms, considering the genuine words Carlisle is offering him, the possibility of engendering their connection much more actively. A part of him wants to make that a reality right here and now... but the weather isn't right for it if he wants to do it according to age-old customs, and perhaps it's better not to rush into anything when the cleric's body is currently in revolt. Carlisle might not be suffering, and he might be willing to pursue just how deeply their metaphysical energies and auras can intertwine, but he is still recovering. Glacius wants to allow his body that much. Plus, holding off will give him more time to plan...

So he draws his hands away from those scars, clasping his partner's in his own, and then gently moves them back towards the clergyman's body as if to show that he can pull them safely back within the folds of the blanket. As Glacius does that he lifts his eyes to meet Carlisle's, smiling more brightly now. "But I do want to be closer to you, as you do to me. And I am glad that pursuing that can help you to feel strong and good, just as I know you are deep down. How can I help with that now?"

[tongueamok]

Pulling his arms back into the fur, he shakes his head. "You could not hurt me, my friend. I know you wouldn't dream of it. I'm not sure what there is to be done at the moment, but being in your company always lifts my spirits. That alone gives me strength."

His eyes flick to the door, then back to Glacius. "Here. You go rebuild your armor, and I will take the time to rest so as not to agitate myself further. When you are finished, I will dress, and we can return home together."

[glacius]

"I appreciate your confidence and trust," Glacius replies... which is a genuine sentiment, even if he knows deep down such perfect safety is hard to achieve in a place like Hadriel. After all, he's been turned against people by the false gods before... though he's afraid to voice such thoughts aloud, both for fear of giving them ideas, and out of a simple desire to not ruin the moment.

Besides, when it comes to Carlisle, he has to believe that he can be stronger. That the connection they share will seem them through such manipulations as it has seen them through the machinations of their demented captors before.

But those are worries he doesn't want to get towed down by in such an enjoyable, intimate moment-- and he's always told Carlisle not to waste energy worrying about what-ifs or maybes. Opting to follow his own advice this time around, the alien nods, starting to rise--slightly shaky, now. He's getting weaker the warmer he gets.

"Very well. Oh--there's a thermos in that bag for you as well, full of some warm tea. I'd get it for you myself, but... I'm worried the heat might damage my hands," Glacius explains, holding them up ruefully. "Get yourself comfortable. As I said before, completely regrowing my icy armor will take some time."

Then, taking a few more moments just to look lovingly at the bundled-up clergyman as he gives a heavy, fond sigh, the pale alien starts to stumble from the dimly-lit shed out into the downpour once more.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle watches as Glacius goes, letting the door shut behind the alien before moving. He does worry.

Sliding his feet off the bed, he meanders toward the bag, his hands fighting against him as he holds the fur around him with one and fishes for the thermos with the other. Once he finds it, he returns to the bed, taking a seat before drinking greedily. The heat doesn't even slow him down -- it might scald others, but for Carlisle, it is a relief as it ebbs away the soreness clinging to the joints in his arms, and halts his shivering bit by bit.

As it relaxes him, he sets the container aside on the table and slides back under the furs on the bed, taking only a moment to rest his eyes. He does wonder why they felt so irritated only moments ago, but assumes it to be nothing -- nothing worth worrying about at this moment. He promised Glacius he'd attempt to curb such behavior. Of course, he's promised Glacius many things, and managed to break a few of them. They are works in progress, as always.

By the time Glacius returns, Carlisle, despite having had plenty of time to dress himself, has done very little of it: he nodded off almost immediately, whatever dreams hardly stirring him, his mind as exhausted as the rest of him.

Glacius, in other words, has done well.

[glacius]

While Carlisle is busy drinking his tea and nodding off with the comfortable, dry confines of the little shed, Glacius strides out into the cold and wet and busies himself with accreting a new shell. On the plus side, the downpour hasn't let up in the least, and all the water raining down around him provides him plenty to work with; on the downside, as he has said a couple times before now, completely regrowing his outer layer is a very intensive process.

He does feel better when it's started, though, a thin layer of ice gathering on his limbs and creeping over his body. The warmth fogging his mind and weighing him down lifts and dissipated, and his sense feel sharp and clear once more in the crisp, brisk cold. His gills, which were beginning to get worryingly dry, flare open to revel in the fresh hydration before becoming concealed and protected by his gelatinous operculum once more. His gaunt features seem to fill out as ice coats and builds up on them like a desiccated corpse being resuscitated, and his microweave courses and flows over his body like newly nourished veins, the surface of his icy skin solidifying and shimmering as it is built up layer by layer.

He is becoming whole once more... and he notices that the longer he stays out here, the more the temperatures keeps dropping. That helps, but it's also curious. He idly wonders if the gods are planning something else out of this freak weather; whatever it is, his confidence grows as his powerful frame does. With his strength and powers fully returned to him, he can ward off the weather. He can ward off whatever they try to throw at their prisoners.

It's well over an hour by the time Glacius has finally regrowing his icy shell in its entirety, and he wastes no time striding back inside the shack, his desire for closeness after their intimacy not having diminished in the slightest despite the time that has passed. When he steps back inside, however, and sees Carlisle swaddled up in furs and resting comfortably in the warm light of the strung-up lights, the alien stops up short, finding himself wishing that he didn't need the shell at all. There's nothing he'd like more than to curl right up with his partner in such a serene moment to continue the closeness they'd been basking in earlier... but he knows that if he didn't wake the clergyman up when he initially joined him in the bed, the chill of his newly-grown skin certainly would in time.

Maybe there's someone in this cave who has some sort of powers that can temporarily leave his underbody more temperature resistant, he muses idly; for now the otherworldly being sits down near the door instead, settling for keeping watch, contenting himself with the knowledge that his efforts have left his partner well tended to and peaceful enough to nod off so comfortably.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle snoozes for another half hour or so once Glacius returns, so comfortable in the fur and the still-fresh memories of his partner that he hardly moves. When he does finally wake, it's more startling than he'd like, a sudden sneeze shattering whatever dreams he might have had.

He sits up, pawing at his face as he utters a colloquial nicety under his breath. It takes him a moment to even figure out where he is, but once he sees Glacius by the door and looks down at the furs over him, it comes back.

"Oh." That one was still sleepy; the next one is more alarmed as he only then remembers he was supposed to be getting dressed. "Oh! Oh Glacius, sorry. How- how long was I out? Cisth, I didn't mean to nod off."

He takes the topmost fur with him as he grabs his clothes and starts sliding into them, wincing as he remembers one more thing -- right, his forearms are very sore.

[glacius]

That sudden sneeze that punctuates the tranquility inside the shed manages to startle Glacius as well, though his tells aren't as obvious as the human's; his head snaps up, his back goes straight and his posture rigid. After a moment Carlisle starts talking again and the alien realizes everything is as it should be, relaxing once more as he picks himself up, wanders over to his partner's bedside, and then squats back down.

"No need to apologize--it's good that you managed to get some rest, and I am happy for it," the ice alien soothes. The hanging lights above glint and reflect off of his newly forged skin; even without his glasses, Carlisle can probably pick up on the fresh sheen of his shell, the lack of imperfections or scratches on it. The alien can also pick up on that wincing--he places a great white hand on the blanket wrapped around the clergyman's shoulder, trying to steady him.

"Just take it easy and get dressed at your own pace. I... am sorry you are hurting." Even if Carlisle has reassured him that he's done nothing wrong, he still feels like that's his fault. He'll do anything he can to make up for it.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle holds up a hand to cease Glacius' apologies before reaching for his glasses. Even without them, he could tell the alien was once more covered in a thick, icy layer -- the familiar drop in temperature followed him into the shed, chilling the entire space with his presence alone.

It takes him a few minutes, but Carlisle manages to get himself dressed, only stopping to rub at his sore forearms once. He apparently deems the sweater and slacks and not quite enough for the chill that no doubt awaits them outside in the pouring rain, the storm having not let up one bit since he took shelter; he drapes one of the pelts around himself as a makeshift cape, wrapping it around the front of him and tossing the back over his shoulder.

"There we are," he says, offering his partner a smile, rubbing idly at his arms once more. "I believe that will be sufficient, don't you?"

[glacius]

Glacius pretends to scrutinize Carlisle for a moment, then puffs a little exhale. "Perhaps. But I think I can do one better."

He explains what he means not with further elaboration, but by action; pushing the door of the little shed wide open, the ice alien extends his arm through. With his icy skin intact once more, he is able to shift once more--and he's using that to his advantage to ensure his partner's comfort, here, as his hand liquefies and expands as it flattens out. It curves broadly as it begins to take shape, and by the time his shifted limb as resolidifed, its taken on a form not unlike a large umbrella.

"Here," Glacius rumbles, looking back to Carlisle, "Stay beside me, and I will see you safely through this storm."

[tongueamok]

It takes Carlisle a moment to realize what Glacius is doing, but once he does, he smiles widely, stepping beside his partner as he sidles out the door.

"My protector, as always."

[To here.]