Alec í Amasa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whiteroadrunning) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thespherelogs2020-02-12 10:56 pm
whiteroadrunning) wrote in thespherelogs2020-02-12 10:56 pm
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.
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.
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"I have," Ahir said quietly, at length. "But it wasn't my choice."
Ahir paused and finally met Seregil's gaze again. "Have you?"
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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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."