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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[tongueamok]

"What?"

Carlisle hardly gets that question out before there's a flurry of movement: Glacius repositions them, wisely not giving the clergyman a chance to reconsider his reservations regarding his own intimate desires. He's spent so long living a solitary life not because of his profession, but because of his curse. People like him aren't allowed relationships; he has been told his entire life that the twice-cursed breed misfortune wherever they go, ebbing it into communities, bleeding it into anyone they would come in contact with. Upon becoming one, even through no fault of his own, he forfeited his right to such commodities.

Things are different here. They are different with Glacius. He wants to believe that so badly, but his own doubts always hold him back.

But in this moment, no uncertainty has a chance to cross his mind as Glacius presses against him, both of them on their hand and knees. He shudders in tandem with his partner as the alien's frontal spikes graze his spine, the sensation not painful, but incredible when associated with his lover. The hills and valleys of Glacius' muscles lay encouragingly across his own, pressed against his shoulder blades and hips, the alien's arm wrapped around his chest to hold him in place.

It's probably best that he's held there, as Carlisle begins to feel Glacius' arousal at his back, his own increasingly obvious: he struggles to answer, unable to find his voice for nearly a minute as Glacius' mandible drags across his neck, eliciting an anxious moan that he fails to silence. The alien's voice does his composure no favors, that shuddering timbre causing a quake that rattles through his chest and down into his limbs.

"Y- yes," he manages, one hand briefly joining Glacius' at his scars. He no longer worries about his hair or the cold, simply wanting more of that stimulating attention to his old wounds. He is almost certain he can feel a spark of his own magic emanate from them, reaching through him toward Glacius' fingertips, trying to reach whatever channels carry the alien's energy. Carlisle's fingers curl into the furs beneath his palms as he rocks with his lover, his heart racing as he groans heavily; he is sure his legs would give out if he weren't being supported.

And yet he wants more.

"Do- do you feel that?" he asks, his breaths coming faster now. He can barely keep his voice steady long enough to formulate a sentence; he will one day learn the merits of talking less and enjoying the moment more, but today clearly isn't that day as he swallows a breath and tries again.. "Do you feel my enereraaahhg- gies? They l- long to be close to- to you, as I am, it- uhn- it seems."

[glacius]

"I do," Glacius rumbles out; pressed firmly and tightly against his partner like this, he can feel everything, metaphysical or otherwise. The heat spreading and flushing his partner's skin, the quavering of the clergyman's body and the pulses of need in response to the rhythmic motions of their hips working in tandem... and of course, those sparks of energy, rippling and crackling subtly against his own metaphysical pathways. In the quiet light of the little shed, the alien feels like his attention is hyper-focused on every little reaction, and he finds it absolutely intoxicating.

So intoxicating that Carlisle is not the only one craving more in that moment; the pale alien wants more of those shivers and shudders, those rattles and moans. He wants to inundate his partner with pleasure, to show him all the merits of trusting him with his desires like this. So the ice alien purrs again; while one hand keeps up its ministrations over those scars, he now holds the hand that was against Carlisle's chest out in front the human--fingers splayed, palm up. In that palm, a bright and shining light winks to life-- the alien's Mote, its rays shining brightly and vibrantly with the euphoria and love of its source.

"How about... I give both you and your energies what you want, then?" Glacius rumbles out. "Open a channel-- and you will have my power and pleasure alike at your fingertips."

[tongueamok]

The illumination of the Mote draws Carlisle's attention even through his eyelids; he opens them to find the vibrant light before him, held so carefully in the palm of his partner's hand, as always. It's not like his lights, not a tangible thing to be placed wherever, but a manifestation of Glacius' energies and emotions, as Carlisle understands it. A physical sign of his well-being, both inward and out. It's far more meaningful than the minor magic the clergyman himself uses so often for practical purposes.

The alien's purr spiders up Carlisle's spine, the vibrations sending webs of minute energy through his muscles and into his very bones. Someone not nearly as sensitive to such metaphysical fluctuations might never feel it; Carlisle, however, has been trained to sense such things, and his own natural talent toward magic has always helped him perceive what could not be seen by others.

... Well, not unless one had glasses like Kate's. He doesn't particularly want to think of her when he's in a precarious position, knowing what she'd have to say.

So instead, he focuses on the Mote, entranced by the brilliant light as it flares before him. He takes Glacius' offer: using one hand to hold himself up -- his body is still trembling from the stimulation his partner bestows upon him even now -- he reaches with the other toward the light. He's not sure entirely what will come of such an interaction and hesitates for but a moment: it feels so different from his own magic, yet familiar, inviting... like meeting an old friend. He has connected with the alien's energy before, but not like this -- not so intimately.

Pulling in a shuddering breath, Carlisle concentrates, channeling energy into his palm, opening the pathways through which he can feel the boundaries of Glacius' own aura.

[glacius]

Glacius, admittedly, is not sure what to expect from this interaction either. He's never allowed someone to interact with his Mote before, particularly not a human--and while Carlisle's natural attunement to the energy of living beings has allowed him to work with the alien's metaphysical energies just fine in the past, he's never accessed them through such a direct link, and never in the heat of such an impassioned moment. There's always the risk of feedback rebounding across the link, resulting in an unpleasant overload not unlike what happened the time the clergyman healed his hip so long ago... but the otherworldly being finds it hard to focus on any potential hiccups with this sharing of himself when Carlisle is responding so wonderfully, shivering and shuddering as his own energies continue to probe at the alien's.

And then, just like that, they merge and flow together as Carlisle's hand presses to that radiant light. The Mote pulses brightly and thrums against the cleric's palm as if acknowledging his access of the metaphysical link presented to him, and then a flood of the otherworldly being's energy courses around the human's, sweeping it up and carrying it effortlessly along like the powerful waves that burst forth from a dam. It is full of vitality, much like the alien himself: a source of untapped strength ready to nourish his partner's. To someone that often struggles to maintain his own, having this much energy at his fingertips will likely give quite the feeling of elation or euphoria... which should compound nicely on what Carlisle is feeling physically.

And therein lies another layer of the Mote; though it will take deeper searching to access all these different levels, which may not be entirely possible with the distraction of their coupling, the clergyman will likely Carlisle feel the beginnings of some feedback from the metaphyiscal link. It is the feeling of the Glacius' arousal in addition to his own, compounding on it... and beneath that is something less carnal, more emotional: a swelling feeling of adoration and love. Should Carlisle find himself hungry enough to try to probe into these deeper levels, he will be able to experience for himself exactly how powerful his lover's feelings for him are.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle is often so tentative with his energy, as healing is about control: the healer must maintain a tenuous grasp upon it so as not to expel too much of their own magic, leaving themselves fatigued and their ward in agony, their veins seared from the aural overflow. Some, like Carlisle himself, have a degree of control over the energies of their patients as well. He attributes this to natural talent -- he has yet to realize it is a mild form of his influential compulsion that he uses to excel in his craft.

In the instant his energies connect and entwine with Glacius' own, what Carlisle does realize is that he has no control at all in this situation. He stiffens at first, fear of the unknown setting in, his natural reaction to almost any given stuation. His one hand remains outstretched toward the mote, but his other relinquishes its position, falling back to his abdomen and to those old scars, as though they'd tear apart from such an incredible influx—

But his fingers fall upon Glacius' hand at his middle, holding him up, supporting him still. He's there -- they both are.

And once he allows himself to be swallowed by the torrent of Glacius' energy, Carlisle can hardly comprehend what he feels. The pure strength of his partner is no longer just physically apparent on the outside, but from within him, as well: it surges through him, sharp and cold and wondrous all at once as it flows deeper into his frame, penetrating his every muscle, every vein, and even the depths of his mind. He can feel not only incredible power, but... something else, as well, something far more akin to raw emotion than tempered thought. It is truly powerful and magnificent in its own right, even at a glance.

As much as Carlisle would like to explore that something else, it takes him a moment to find himself in the flood of boundless energy resonating from his partner. It's so easy to lose himself in the vast sea of metaphysical innervation, to let go of all his concerns when he feels so.... utterly indestructible with Glacius around him, beside him, within him. Carlisle might not have a full understanding of what, exactly, is happening, but what he does know is that he feels just terrific, a wide smile sprawling across his face the longer he considers it, elated laughter escaping him before he can reel it in.

He closes his eyes again, feeling them burning; the hand at his middle goes to cover them, reflexes kicking in. "This" — he stifles another laugh, so alive with unadulterated sensation that he can barely think straight — "this feels so incredible! It's almost- almost electric, through my fingers and back. I can feel you through it somehow. Does- does that make sense?"

It doesn't to him, but not much does at the moment as he struggles -- mentally, and unfortunately, physically -- to process all that is happening.

[glacius]

"Perfect sense, as you are touching upon a manifestation and representation both," Glacius groans out, swept up in the sensations of it all as he massages Carlisle's scars and rocks his hips against the clergyman. He can no longer feel those sharp, static jolts of energy, desperately reaching out to try and touch against his own; they flow together now, joined as they so longed for. That plus his partner's elated laughter suggests that he's managed to tap into those energies for himself; the ice alien wonders how much deeper the clergyman will be able to delve, but doesn't try to explain how or why that might be possible. Discovery and dedication are key aspects of the Mote... even if he hasn't technically gifted his to Carlisle yet.

It's not like he hasn't considered it in the past, but it's something his mind doesn't really have the space to think about now, not with everything that's going on between them, metaphysical or otherwise. The free-flowing energy coursing between them, the unbridled pleasure of their coupling, the deep intimacy of having their bodies pressed so closely against each other's... it's all so intoxicating that Glacius doesn't think he could focus on anything else if he tried. Even now he struggles to dredge up the concentration needed to keep the bridge open; the Mote thrums and wavers, yet he still stubbornly clings to the connection between them, his hand drifting lower to his partner's arousal as he tries to encourage him further still.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle is aware of the limits for how much energy he can channel through himself safely, having been well-trained in restraint. He has slowly grown accustomed to the sensations born of his own arousal, allowing the heat and shudders and longing to roil in his abdomen rather than suppressing them entirely. He knows well of Glacius' proclaimed love for him, yet as he explores that something else more, delving into the depths of this aural connection between himself and his partner, Carlisle can actually feel it for himself, as though the emotion were made tangible through this current.

Unfortunately, when reveling in all three of those delights simultaneously, they prove more than he can handle.

Excess energy rises from his eyes like steam from a boiling pot, the vapors aglow in the dim illumination; he keeps one palm against them to stifle their irritation, the other finally breaking the connection with the Mote to join Glacius' as the alien works him. Though his head is pounding -- something he feels suddenly once the connection is severed -- he is vocal about his wants rather than allowing his compulsion to speak for him.

"M- more." It's a single word, but when accompanied by a heavy, lustful moan, his fingers clawing greedily against Glacius' skin as he leans back into his partner once more, he is sure Glacius will understand.

[glacius]

Glacius can feel Carlisle attempting to delve deeper into this connection, and he welcomes it like he welcomes the conjoined motion of their hips, the moans rising from the throat of the cleric underneath him, the greedy clawing at his skin, and of course the pleasurable pressure building between the two of them. Encouraged by his partner's reactions, the alien's energies flow even more vigorously, the thrumming of the Mote in turn a resounding chorus of love and sensation--and then all of the sudden the bridge collapses as Carlisle pulls his hand away from the light, withdrawing from the influx of metaphysical and emotional sensations.

It's just as well; it's all becoming enough that Glacius is rapidly losing his ability to keep the link between them open. Carlisle retreating to the realm of the physical once more allows him to focus solely on that, which he does now, responding to his partner with a lustful snarl: "Of course, Carlisle."

The Mote winks out of Glacius' hand, freeing it to return to those scars while the other keeps tending to his lover's arousal; he works his hips and the point of his mandible goes to the clergyman's neck once more, and feeding Carlisle pleasure so many different ways all at once means that it doesn't take long for them both to go over the edge. At that point the pale alien finally slumps forward, his body shuddering as he sprawls out over his partner's back and allows the endorphins to roll through his system, leaving him in a relaxed and utterly pleased haze. His limbs feel like jelly, and yet he still can't help but try to cradle Carlisle to himself, stroking the length of his partner's body as he holds him safe and secure in that bed of furs.

And, of course, there's the steady purring thrumming away in Glacius' throat, loud enough to rival even the pattering of the downpour outside. He can't remember the last time he's felt so utterly, blissfully content; he can only hope he's done a good enough job here that Carlisle feels the same.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle comes around from his own haze of fevered endorphins in Glacius' arms, the rumbling purr of the alien relaxing, but keeping him from falling into too deep a slumber following their impromptu, yet passionate coupling. As he catches his breath, he rests his head on Glacius' chest, aural overflow still trickling from his eyes, ethereal wisps rising into the air above them. They are far thinner than they were during their moment of connection, but the fact they remain does indicate that the Mote had some physical impact upon Carlisle.

The emotional one is more notable to the clergyman. He presses his face to Glacius' skin, feeling so utterly appreciated, but ashamed all the same. "I'm sorry," he mumbles out. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold on any longer. That was- was intense, unlike anything I've ever felt... and yet, what I felt was something I should have understood all along, it seems."

[glacius]

Glacius had been too taken by the moment to note the strange steam rising from the clergyman's eyes in delicate, trailing wisps--and he's too lost in the afterglow to do so for a good few moments even now. All he wants to do is bask in the closeness, the affection, and the utter content of the moment, letting his mind drift as he wraps his arms around the human as he shelters against his body. His arms might be a bit more spindly without all that ice coating it, but it's a secure and loving hold nonetheless.

It's Carlisle's apology that finally cracks the alien's eyes open. He takes notice of the steam, and makes a mental note to ask about it later--after he's addressed his partner's shame. "You have nothing to apologize for--I was trying to overwhelm you, Carlisle," Glacius murmurs, keeping up the stroking of the cleric's lanky frame. Then, realizing how that probably sounds, he quickly adds on, "But not in a malicious or harmful way--I just wanted you fill you with nothing but good feelings, as that is what you deserve, not this... self-debasement that plagues you, even now, when you are in my arms. It is my hope that what you felt from the Mote may... help with that. I know that words can sometimes seem empty, but... it is hard to argue with something that you can feel for yourself."

The pale alien lets out another shuddering sigh, stretching against Carlisle once more before settling back against him and giving him a careful hug. "So... whenever you are discouraged, or feeling bad about yourself, just remember that there's someone out there who... deeply, truly loves you, Carlisle. I hope it can... help you feel better about yourself when you need it. And I hope it can help you feel more secure about us, too--you can never let me down, not when I care for you and cherish you as deeply as this."

[tongueamok]

That response gets not more self-debasement or doubt from Carlisle, but a genuine smile, one accompanied by a short fit of laughter as he considers the lengths to which his partner would go just to prove his worth -- their worth, together. Something else trickles from his eyes as he grins: tears, ones of gratitude as he is moved beyond words.

He returns the hug as best he can, aware now that he is no longer inundated by carnal desire of that sharp, throbbing pain in his forearms. Though he knows exactly what it is from, he could not care at that moment. All he wants is for the alien to know he feels the same way.

"Could you sense that?" he asks, his voice shaking. "When we connected with your- with your light, could you feel me how I felt you? Were you privy to what it is I see when I look at you? What it is I endure when I wait for you to return home?"

[glacius]

Glacius chuffs as Carlisle returns the hug, a sound that suggest he'd tried to wriggle even closer if they weren't already flush against one another. It's the string of emotional, deeply moving questions that quiet the alien; he looks down at his partner, nuzzling against him as he thinks about it.

"You know, I... I think I could," the pale alien murmurs. He'd been feeling a lot all at once--as Carlisle had--but now that he has the mental capacity to think back on it, he's able to begin untangling all the strings of their influence. "I'm... not sure how that's supposed to work, honestly, given that you do not possess a Mote... and even if you did, such a thing is supposed to take intense focus... but, ha," Glacius pauses to give a light, loving chuckle, "Maybe your feelings were strong and emphatic enough that they made it across regardless."

The otherworldly being seems to think on it for a moment or two more, landing on a thought that he knows for a fact is true. It combined with his lover's words touches him so deeply that he finds himself looking down at his partner, adoration glowing in those eyes as he holds Carlisle tight and drags his intact mandible carefully through the human's hair. "I know I can certainly sense it when you grace me with such heartfelt sentiments, and... when you hold me like this. But... I like it when you take the time out to tell me, regardless."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle smiles at Glacius once more, closing his eyes and allowing the alien to groom his hair, relishing the feeling of the mandible as it grazes his scalp. "I shall endeavor to tell you that more often, then," he notes with a sigh of satisfaction, fighting the weariness as it sets into his muscles in the wake of their exhausting venture.

Unfortunately, the rest of his body fights him soon enough. As the minutes tick by, the warmth he'd felt when in the throes of passion works against him, that sheen of sweater across his skin leaving him shivering again in the chilly air of the shed. He grits his teeth, his wrists stiff as he pulls one of the furs atop himself, trying to keep warm.

"As much as I truly enjoy these moments," he says quietly, just above the sound of the rain, "Perhaps we should return to our protective layers before too long. I... I do worry about you."

After all, he may be cold, but he knows Glacius must be far from it without his icy armor.

[glacius]

"I can never hear it enough," Glacius agree quietly but fondly, continuing to carefully preen the human. It's the shivering that stops him; he draws back slightly to look at the human, confused at first as to where that's coming from given that he's stripped his icy skin completely. With the ambient chill in the shed from the gloomy weather outside, it's easy to put two and two together; if it's taking him this long to start overheating without his protective shell, then it's probably too cold in here for a human's comfort, especially one as cold-natured as his partner is.

Still, just because the bare alien isn't steadily cooking doesn't mean he isn't at risk. He was just pressed against his feverishly warm lover in the heat of the moment, and he is now laying in a bed of furs that traps said body heat rather effectively. In fact, there's probably a reason that it's taking him so long to come back around from the haze his mind is in, one that's not entirely related to endorphins or afterglow. He's been above freezing for too long.

So Glacius gives a quite grumble of displeasure, but moves to start disentangling himself from Carlisle regardless. "Very well. I do not want this to end either," he really, truly does not, "But I have always said that I do not want to cause you undue worry. I... I hope we can do this again soon, though, or something like it. It... pains me to have to cut this short."

[tongueamok]

"And me as well, but I would be troubled more were you to suffer on my account."

Carlisle pulls himself upright, wrapping one of the pelts around him.

"If you want to step outside to take advantage of the rain for reforming your shell, I promise to change quickly." Or as quick as he can, given the shivering and that painful stiffness making its way down his arms.

[glacius]

"You'll probably have changed long before I have managed to form an entirely new shell," Glacius replies, slightly rueful in tone. Something else draws his attention, however, taking his mind away from his own difficulties; having been right with Carlisle at times when his condition has started to worsen, it's not hard for him to notice the difficulty with which he's moving his arms. That combined with the steam that he'd caught rising from the clergyman's eyes before it diminished seizes the alien's concern.

"But... before I go... are you alright, Carlisle?" Glacius asks, tilting his head as worry knits his brows. "You seem to be affected by... what we've done in a way you haven't been before. I didn't push you too far, did I?"

[tongueamok]

Carlisle looks down to his arms, knowing how perceptive the alien can be regarding his health. The faint scars along the undersides of his forearms sting as he turns them upright.

"Having so much energy coursing through me has agitated some of my more magical injuries," he admits. "Aural overflow and what have you." His eyes dart to Glacius as he gives his partner a reassuring look, one accompanied by a desperate half-smile. "B- but they will be fine as I learn to manage such incredible amounts with... with practice. If you- if you wouldn't mind sharing such things with me again."

He certainly enjoyed that unparalleled intimacy on planes both a physical and metaphysical, but he doesn't want to make any demands of his partner regarding something so private to his people.

[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.