thespherelogs | OPEN | Inside my chest beats an insect heart...

Entry tags:

OPEN | Inside my chest beats an insect heart...

Who: Alec i Amasa, Seregil i Korit, and anyone else who'd like to join
When: 2nd week (Plenimaran AU) & 4th week (cyberpunk AU) of February
What: The AU event
Where: Locations detailed in starters
Warnings: Discussions of slavery and abuse in some threads, will add more CW if necessary

Notes: Alec's name in the Plenimaran AU is Ahir; it's been changed by his master, so he'll be very confused and alarmed if someone mentions his old name. Also, please make fun of cyberpunk Alec's pants.

1. Plenimaran AU - locked to Seregil; in their pod

The scent was the first thing to hit him upon waking.

Ahir's pallet was in the corner of the cellar. Dirt floors and threadbare blankets weren't much of a bed, but then again, the frozen ground never had been either. It was better than nothing, and Ahir had learned to be thankful for small mercies during his time in Plenimar. It kept him warm enough, but it smelled-- It smelled of the cellar. Of moist stone and moldering casks and very very occasionally the fresh rot of a dead rat. But never--

Never this, whatever this was.

Ahir scrambled upright, eyes darting around the bedroom, but the rest of him immediately frozen in panic. Where was he? Was this a dream? A nightmare? If Ilban found him gone, he'd be furious; there'd be no end to Ahir's punishment, if Ilban didn't kill him outright. Ahir had seen him do it to others, and he'd never put a toe out of line after.

But then his eyes fell on the man in bed beside him, and understanding slowly came over him with an involuntary shudder. Ahir was one of the pretty ones; it wasn't the first time Ilban had given him to a guest for the night, though he'd at least remembered the last one. Perhaps -- based upon that experience -- not remembering was a mercy.

Though this place certainly didn't look like anywhere he'd seen in Plenimar.

Haltingly -- tremulously -- Ahir reached out to gently shake the man's shoulder.

"Excuse me," Ahir spoke Plenimaran, but not well. So when the Sphere translated, it simply sounded pained and awkward. "I apologize, sir. Where are we? I must go."

2. Plenimaran AU - open; in various common areas

Ahir had been wandering intermittently for days; it took that long for the anxiety to wear off. This place was strange, and from what he'd gathered, decidedly not Plenimar. He was as good as dead when he returned, he was sure of it; Ilban would be furious with his absence, however long it lasted, and Ahir would be damn lucky if he survived the punishment.

But it was out of his hands for now. There was no way to return of his own volition, so the best thing he could think to do was familiarize himself. If Ilban arrived here, he would need assistance, and becoming knowledgeable about the place would put Ahir in the best position to help. To be useful.

He hadn't felt useful since his arrival.

But he flitted from shop to shop, cafe to library, memorizing the layout and the goods with tired eyes and silently praying that his end wasn't nigh.

3. Cyberpunk AU - open; anywhere with coffee

Alec never necessarily needed coffee to function. Not like his husband did. Alec was a morning person in a way that Seregil would never be, so the waking up part was never really an issue. The focusing part was, and caffeine always seemed to help. A little. Enough to keep the code talking to him, at least.

He'd been camped out at the cafe for the better part of the afternoon, downing latte after espresso, with a microkit rolled out in front of him. His tablet had been acting up ever since his arrival; to be expected, considering he wasn't connected to the 'frame anymore, but this place had some kind of network he could slip into. He was sure of it. The tablet was spread out before him, unfolded from its usual home around his wrist, back panel removed so that Alec could delicately prod at the circuits inside. Disconnecting, reconnecting, checking the currents, then back to the wires again.

To anyone who'd known this other Alec Seregil mentioned, Alec was nearly unrecognizable. One side of his head was shaved entirely, the rest of his blonde hair streaked bright green and littered with the occasional braid. Silver hoops lined both ears, a match to the hoop in his nose, and blue geometric tattoos covered the entirety of his left arm. He was all sharp-angled accessories and ridiculously-tight black vinyl couture; seemingly off-putting, but his eyes were as kind and welcoming as ever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Inesa was working at the shop when a familiar figure stepped into the store. Her dress was white and her hair had been braided in her usual twin braids. There was a bunny pen in the far corner near the counter that held a white bunny in a cute baby blue vest that looked as if it'd been chewed on a little bit.

She was working on finding things that Lancelot didn't eat.

"Hello! It's good to see you. Did you want to see the new designs I've come up with for you and Seregil?" She didn't realize that this wasn't the Alec that she knew.

Ahir immediately regretted walking into the shop. This entire place had been nothing but confusion and frustration since his arrival, and these unsettling encounters only mad it worse. This woman spoke to him with such familiarity, and she knew that strange man's name besides. None of that could bode well. Ahir took a step back toward the door, hand on the knob, ready to bolt.

Now that he was facing her, Inësa could clearly see the difference in him. He looked weary, drawn; older than his years by far, with sallow skin and dark circles under his eyes. His posture was hunched, timid, and rather than the joy -- the enduring smile -- that was always in his eyes, all Inësa found there was fear.

But she seemed kind, and that notion stayed Ahir's hand at the door, though he still gripped it tightly.

"Sorry, but I think you're mistaking me for someone else." Ahir said, and his voice was so impossibly small.

"Oh." Her expression shifted as worry knitted her brow. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I must have thought you were someone else. Please excuse me."

Inesa retreated to the opposite side of the counter and used the time to collect herself. This was surely her friend but at the same time, it wasn't. It was confusing but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Please forgive me. Can I interest you in any of my new designs or perhaps you'd rather look through the fabric we have available." She wasn't sure what to do and she glanced over to Lancelot for help. Of course, the bunny had nothing to say about the matter.

Ahir hesitated, but the manner of her retreat was painfully familiar, and he wasn't about to be the cause of her unhappiness.

He paused, taking careful stock of the shop as he stepped away from the door again.

"What do you do here?" Ahir asked quietly. "Are you a tailor?"

"You could say that. I own and run this shop. I design different clothes and try to fit styles that aren't custom to the sphere." She didn't really consider herself a tailor or a seamstress. This was just a place where imaginations could become real.

"Right now it's just me working everything though I usually have some people helping."

A beat.

"And Lancelot." Inesa pointed towards the corner where a little white bunny rabbit hopped around.

"I see."

Ahir had wandered over to a bolt of fabric, and he carefully ran his fingertips over it. It felt strange; unfamiliar to him, but most of the things in this place were like that.

"Do you make the fabrics too? They feel different from what I'm used to."

She shook her head. "No but I have thought to try and make the silk from my home." If she can somehow grow the stalks its weaved from here in the sphere.

"Most I get from contacts that Max gave me. Some are special orders of sorts that I search all over the sphere for. Most furs are like that. It is hard to get them here." She imagined that it's wherever the food came from.

"Do you like it?"

"It's so interesting," Ahir said quietly. "Everything is so different here. It's hard to imagine anyone being accustomed to a place like this."

From my home, she'd said.

"Then-- You're not from here either. Have you been here long? Is your home anything like this?"

Then, realizing himself, Ahir quickly shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've been rude. My name is Ahir."

"I'm used to traveling." She'd never stayed in one place for very long before now. It was nice to have a place where she could call home, to have family and a purpose here. It was all she had ever wanted.

"Oh. It's alright. You may call me Inesa. It is a pleasure to meet you Ahir." She inclined her head in a subtle bow. "My home is not like this... it's been a long time since I've been home but I've only been living here for a year or so."

It didn't feel too long to an immortal.

"Why has it been a long time since you were home? Were you displaced?"

If nothing else, Ahir was just as kind and inquisitive as the Alec that Inësa was accustomed to. His eyes still betrayed far too much, and he longer he spoke to her, the more Ahir's gaze softened.

"Something like that, yes." She smiled at him. It was a sensitive subject but this was Alec, even if different, and she trusts him with her heart.

"The world I am from is often called Heaven on Earth however it does not have a name. Those who live here do not leave and should that occur, they can never go back. I left to follow my sister and keep her safe. That was about seven or eight years ago now."

"We don't have such a place, in my world. At least, if we do, I haven't heard of it."

Ahir seemed reluctant to meet her gaze. It went beyond simple shyness; it was very nearly a nervous habit at this juncture.

"Why can't you return?"

"That's alright. It isn't a world for men to reach." Her expression saddens as she leans back against the counter behind her.

"I don't belong there anymore. We are born with a purpose, we fulfill that purpose and then commit our essence to the energy protecting the planet. I forsake my purpose and I left. I don't have a place to return too and I wouldn't be welcomed if I did. The elder gave me a choice before I left but I couldn't leave my sister alone."

She had to follow her... no matter the cost.

Waking in the morning as always hard for Seregil. Most days, one of his sisters would have to wake him. Today, however, the soft, broken words of the man beside him did the trick. Letting out a massive yawn, he blearily opened his eyes, frowning at the naked man sitting over him. Naked was odd; as many dalliances that Seregil had before now, he'd never gone quite that far. It took him a moment to realize that he was also naked, and his reaction was quick. He pulled the covers as far up over himself as he could, and rested his chin over them, frowning as he tried to piece together what the other man had said.

"I was hoping you'd tell me." The slight whine in his voice would be recognizable if it were the normal Alec. "Did we ..." He let the words cut off as he started to feel his face burn bright red up to the blue that stained his ear in several places.

"I don't know..."

Ahir trailed off and looked away. None of this made sense. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the cellar, and eccentric though Ilban could be, he was fairly sure the man would at least tell Ahir if he were going away with a guest. And judging by the state of himself and this stranger beside him--

Something had happened between them. Ahir simply couldn't work out the details of how.

Ahir spotted some likely-looking clothing on the ledge beside the recessed bed. Holding the blanket around his waist, he carefully sat up to snag it, and began dressing beneath the blankets. At the very least, he could sense the stranger's discomfort with this situation, and Ahir didn't need the man seeing any more of the lashing scars on his back than he'd already glimpsed.

"Do you know where we are?" Ahir asked while he dressed. "I don't remember you. Or being here. Did Ilban give me to you?"

As the other man moved to grab his clothing, Seregil took a curious look at his back. The scars there were deep and angry. Someone had beaten this man, and it infuriated Seregil to think of it. When he turned back, however, Seregil was turned and looking for clothing of his own to put on and quickly grabbed a pair of strange-looking pants from the side of the bed.

Listening, it took Seregil a few moments to puzzle it out. Ilban. He could be a lover, but would a lover give their loved one to someone else? Possibly, but with the scars, it didn't seem likely. Still, people did strange things. "I don't think I've met this Ilban of yours, but I'm Seregil i Korit Bokthersa. What's your name?" They'd shared a bed together, the least they could do was exchange names. Besides, it didn't sit well with him, the idea of leaving this man to the one who'd hurt him and leave him in another man's bed.

"Ahir."

It wasn't his real name, but it was the only one he'd been permitted to give. Who knew if this Seregil could be trusted? Or if this was some elaborate trick to test Ahir's loyalty? That seemed as likely a scenario as anything else at this juncture.

Ahir fingered absently at the iron collar around his neck, gaze still restlessly wandering the room, struggling to put all the pieces into place. They wouldn't fit neatly, no matter how hard he tried.

"Where is Bokthersa? Is that where we are now?" Ahir asked, and there was an edge of fear in his tone.

"I was wondering the same thing. None of this is familiar." Though it was impossibly soft. Whoever was doing this had made sure the bed was at least comfortable.

He carefully slipped out from under the covers now that he had pants on and began to wander around. Seregil was still light on his feet and moved with almost unearthly grace. Pausing at a shining strange object, he picked it up before reading the plate in front of it. "Seems we're in a place where someone named 'Alec' lives. This is apparently his beloved toaster." He set the thing back down where he found it. Better not upset this Alec fellow.

Ahir's shoulders suddenly went stiff. That wasn't possible. Or else, it was an impossible coincidence. He hadn't heard that name in a little over six years, and he'd certainly never owned a place of his own. Particularly not like this.

Another Alec, surely. It was a common enough name, he supposed. Perhaps not in Plenimar, but Skala or Mycena were possibilities.

But Ahir had an honest face, and he'd always been just a touch too trusting.

"That used to be my name," he said quietly. "Not in a very long time. But I don't know what a toaster is, and I don't know this place."

Ahir turned to watch Seregil wander. He didn't seem like a dangerous person. If Ahir had leave to make these sort of assumptions, he'd go so far as to call the man kind. Perhaps if he could appeal to reason--

"You really have no memory of coming here? You don't have to pretend. I promise you, I'm not important enough to keep secrets from."

At the confession, Seregil looked to Alec, taking in the new information. A name change seemed odd to him, but if the man were a slave, as the markings on his body had betrayed, it was possible that was the name someone else gave to him. Using it didn't sit well with Seregil at all.

"I really don't remember anything, Alec, and you're far more important than you've been led to believe." He continued to move around the room, looking over things to get an idea of what was going on. There were things all around, mostly pillows.

"It's probably best for us to stay here until this Alec fellow comes back. Maybe he can sed some light -" His eyes settled on a picture and he offered it to Alec. "That's you, isn't it?"

Ahir's mind ceased to function for a few moments when Seregil used his real name. It was jarring, hearing that again after so long. He'd distanced himself from the identity, and it was difficult to suddenly bridge that gap.

But he took the picture when Seregil handed it over. It looked like him, sure enough. Different, somehow; as if it had come from another time. Whoever this man was in the picture, he looked so happy. Ahir couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled.

"It can't be," Ahir slowly shook his head, and then pointed to the photo. "See, here? This man has blue marks on his ear. I've never had those."

Ahir craned his neck around, then slowly lifted himself out of the bed to assist in the search. "Are there any more pictures?"

Seregil knew what the blue marks were. He had several on his ear and right hand. Even with the lack of marks, the man in the picture looked remarkably like Alec, plus they shared a name. The coincidences were piling up.

At the question of more pictures, Seregil shook his head. "Haven't found any just yet, but I'll bet there are. Anyone who'd label their objects as theirs probably has pictures." He started carefully opening drawers and closing them if the contents weren't interesting enough.

Ahir was a touch more thorough with his search. He was accustomed to hiding things, after all. It seemed to him that, if one were to find something, one had to do a bit of digging. He began to rifle through the contents of the drawers, carefully lifting clothing and prodding the backs of the furniture, until he came upon a likely-looking book beneath a pile of -- of all the strange things -- ropes and cuffs in one of the drawers.

"There are pictures in here," Ahir said.

Though once he'd gotten a few pages into the album, he suddenly snapped it shut, tossed it back into the drawer, and slammed the drawer closed again. His face was bright red, and he stalked to the other side of the room, eager to put as much distance between himself and the dresser as possible.

"Never mind."

That was an interesting reaction. Before Alec could stop him, Seregil had made his way over to the same drawer and pulled it open, eyes widening at the contents. "Maybe he enforces the laws here - " Even saying it, Seregil thought it sounded like a paultry excuse.

Once he'd gotten over the bulk of the content, he pulled out the book. What could be making Alec blush such a deep color ... besides the rest of the contents of the drawer. These were probably safe; they were pictures, after all. Who would take pictures that you couldn't show? Pulling it open to the first page, his eyes widened, and he understood fully why these were hidden away. They should have been locked up, or better yet, never taken at all. WHO TOOK PICTURES LIKE THESE? "Am I correct in presuming this is us?" His voice was a bit higher pitched and his face burned like fire, but for some reason, he kept looking through the album. "Were we, lovers?"

"Well I don't remember it!" Ahir snapped. "But it certainly looks that way!"

There was no sense trying to deny it. The coincidences were too many, but there was still no explanation for it, save madness. How did two lovers wake up and suddenly have no memory of one another? Of having completely separate lives, from the sound of it? And yet, there was evidence somehow. (And Ahir still had not wrapped his mind around these pictures. They looked too real to be paintings; how did one capture and preserve a moment in time like this?)

Ahir couldn't help feeling he would never willingly engage in these things with a man. Dalna frowned upon unions of that sort, and he liked to think he was still devout, even when things happened that were beyond his control. And yet, seeing himself in those pictures, in those situtations...

"That is sorcery," Alec pointed to the album; it was the only explanation that made any sense. "How could we have no memory of one another, but-- But that..."

It was all very upsetting.

Seregil was still looking through the pictures and turning the book when he needed to. "You think someone used magic to create all this just to confuse us?" That seemed completely unlikely to Seregil. If so, there was a high probability that he would be getting sick all over the place.

"I'm guessing you've never ... done anything with a man before." Which is ridiculous thing coming from Seregil who's only ever had stolen kisses the one summer.

Ahir ceased his pacing, and his shoulders went stiff at the question. He stared at the floor -- through it -- because he couldn't think of a way to answer that question without alarming the other man.

"I have," Ahir said quietly, at length. "But it wasn't my choice."

Ahir paused and finally met Seregil's gaze again. "Have you?"

At the admission, Seregil's head popped up and he looked at Alec with wide eyes. The comment answered his question as to it Alec was a slave. "Someone made you? Alec, you should never have to do anything you don't want to."

Ahir bristled; there Seregil went, using his name again. As if he had leave to do so in the first place. If Ilban could hear this man speaking to him like this--

Ilban isn't here. Ahir had to remind himself of that, and the notion became clearer with each passing moment.

Ahir sighed and let his arms drop, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the bed recess. He wouldn't meet Seregil's eyes any longer. Couldn't. All he'd find there was pity, and Ahir didn't need it.

"I know. But some people aren't given the choice."

Seregil couldn't deny the pity in his eyes initially, but now that he's watching Alec, he realized it isn't what the other man needs. So he closes the book and sets it to the side before pulling himself up to sit next to him.

"You have a choice now." Not that he's saying that Alec should do anything with him. He's just trying to remind the other man that he does have that choice right now. That he will have it so long as Seregil can make sure of it.

Ahir cast Seregil a dubious look. Insofar as he had a choice about anything, it would disappear the moment Ilban appeared again. At least... If he appeared again.

"Thank you for the kind words, but that hasn't been the case since my arrival in Plenimar. Even if Ilban never comes to this place, it's-- Difficult."

Hard to get used to the idea of making his own decisions again. Of the notion that he didn't have to serve anyone, or attend any duties, or fear a cane or whip if he failed or displeased someone.

"Then I'll help you." He offers his hand to the other man. "We're friends now." Which meant that Seregil would protect Alec till the end if he needed him to.

Ahir stares at Seregil's hand. Something about it feels dangerous; like he's giving in to something that's not for him. For such a very long time, it hasn't been for him. Not friendship, nor kindness, nor a gentle touch.

But something about Seregil's demeanor inspires a certain streak of impulsivity in Ahir. He can't explain it, but he's not inclined to agonize over it either. Ahir places his hand in Seregil's, and it's warmer and softer than he expected. It's--

It's nice.

"Alright," Ahir says, barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

As someone who all too often complains of ending up with caffeine in her blood delivery system, Alex has an impressively high caffeine tolerance. However even she is mildly disturbed (and also fascinated, really) by the amount of coffee that he's putting away. It takes awhile of watching for her to realize who it is. Or at the very least who it might be, even if he's tinkering with circuits and she remembers when he had a hard time with the whole using a toaster thing.

Picking up her coffee (her fourth of the day, because she's a little bit of a hypocrite) Alex just comes over and clears her throat a bit before she softly asks: "what are you working on?" After spending so long as not herself, she recognizes it in other people, even if the differences aren't so dramatic.

Alec's brow twitches when he looks up, momentarily unsure that he's actually been spoken to. But he brightens up quickly enough, and he pulls a chair out for Alex to sit beside him. Stranger though she may be at the moment, no one stays a stranger if Alec has anything to say about it.

"My PC," Alec says, and adjusts the back of the cuff between them so that Alex can see. "It's been on the fritz since I got here. Most of the functionality is lost when it's not connected to the global mainframe at home. I've been trying to modify it for the network here, but I can't seem to slip into the damn thing."

Alec pauses to sip at his coffee. "Have you got any ideas?"

Alex takes a sip of her own coffee in order to attempt to cover some of the surprise that she's feeling, but her face is expressive. More than that, her voice is as well, and she can't school it when she asks: "you're trying to modify it to connect to the network?" A pause, and Alex just flushes a little bit before she waves her hand. "Never mind. Sorry, that was really obnoxious of me. You just really look like a friend of mine so it was a reflex to ask it." Which is probably an understatement, but Alex still is a little in shock over all of that because it's still obviously Alec, and it sounds like him and none of those words just seem right coming from his mouth.

"Unfortunately, the network just seems to be internal from the golden disc behind our ears. Even Rhys, the best hacker that I know can't seem to get into it. And trying to get access to the discs themselves seems to be lethal because they're like hardwired into our brains. I'm sorry." Because Alex knows what it means to have that poked at, and she doesn't wish that feeling on anyone. Ever.

There's understanding in his eyes when he nods along with the explanation, and he reflexively reaches up to rub at the disc when Alex mentions it. He'd be tempted to call the technology primitive for the simple fact that he can't connect to it, until he reminds himself that it's a network hardwired into his brain, which he still can't really wrap his head around.

"Just seems odd to me. It's been years since I met a network I can't crack," Alec says, though he hardly seems upset about it. More amused, possibly even excited.

"But I'm being rude. You probably know the other me, though. Seregil mentioned I'm not the only Alec who's passed through here. I apologize, but I don't know your name?"

"I do. I mean, I did I guess. And will again soon, I think." Alex just grins at him, but there's some sympathy in it because she's definitely been someone who has been there quite recently and she's still readjusting to the fact of who she was even if she doesn't have her memories back. Well, at least the memories of that time rather than who she is. "I just wasn't myself too apparently."

But, Alex just moves on, pressing to the whole thing about who he is now rather than who he was then. "How many networks have you hacked?"

Alec's gotten into a bad habit lately. At least, he tells himself it's only developed lately; in actuality, it formed shortly after he fell in with Seregil. Long before their marriage, before their courtship even began, back when Alec was still a bright-eyed nomad who'd just joined Seregil as his guide and apprentice...

Back then, Alec started sleeping in way too late.

It's carried over. He's become one of those people who sleeps past mid-morning and needs coffee to function, and he can't believe it's come to this point. If he had the ability to feel shame any longer, he'd certainly be ashamed of himself. Though as it is, he's far too comfortable to bring himself to care.

It's not quite mid-morning yet, though. He's fairly sure of it; his internal clock is still spot-on, not that he's dwelling on it too deeply at the moment. Not when he's saddled with an all-too-common morning inconvenience, and he can feel Seregil's weight warm beside him. Husbands with appetites are usually happy to help with morning inconveniences; Alec praises every god who will listen for that small blessing, and far more often than he cares to acknowledge.

Alec hasn't even opened his eyes yet when he rolls over, one arm slipping around Seregil's waist to pull the man flush against him. Seregil's back is pressed to Alec's chest -- among other things -- and at this angle, it's easy for Alec to pick out a few soft kisses across the nape of Seregil's neck.

"Remind me again," Alec murmurs in between kisses. "Why mornings were invented?"

Seregil and Alec had continued to use the same bed - chastely, of course - since the morning that they'd awoken here. Seregil had no intention of trying anything with the other man. They were friends, and that was what most mattered to him, the fact that Alec was willing to trust him and think of him as a friend. Alec pulling him into a rather uncomfortable position was the last thing on his mind, but apparently it was a thing that was happening now. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about it without possibly hurting Alec.

"Is something the matter?" Seregil's voice wavers as he tries to wriggle away a bit. Even Ilar had never been this affectionate.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN | Inside my chest beats an insect heart...

2. Plenimaran AU

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1.

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

That sweet sweet cyberpunk AU.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

4 - Cyberpunk AU; locked to Seregil

no subject