(closed) you can't hold me down

[bumbles]

Date & Time: Friday 18th October
Location: CLINIC
Characters: Donny Casey & Kirian Dawningsun dawningsun
Summary: ADMINISTRATIONNNNNN and organising and skittish medics and looming elves
Warnings: Donny standard fare of depression and anxiety, Kirian standard fare of being a jerk


( After a brief first encounter with Kirian, Donny had made the decision to always go to Ashraf when he had questions. Ashraf was nice - affable. He was friendly and even if he thought Atlas was someone completely different, he was Atlas' friend. Donny liked Ashraf, even with the guilt that came with lying to someone who considered you, or some version of you, a friend. It made talking to him worse and easier both at once.

Kirian was a little more... acerbic. And just generally alarming. He was also the person that Donny needed to bring all the information and ideas to, introduce inventory and supply organizers to so they can coordinate. Donny has probably spoken to him more in the last two weeks than he had in all the months they've worked together, and he has his areas that he's running, and taking calls and talking to people, but--

Kirian is still kind of alarming. So much for being better, and stronger. So much for being anything like Atlas, when he was still tensing up around a coworker. A superior, sure, but still a coworker. It's more broken glass to walk across, the realization that even with all this, pushing himself and trying so hard that he's still scared. Stupid. Stupid.

His magic is a new thing in the clinic, still. It had never been on display in the Transport clinic, but here he has been manipulating metal for create space for generators, create shelving and a proper desk and office space to maximise the potential of the space, doing lots of little things when there's not many people around because he doesn't want to deal with sleep and sometimes avoiding Max is easier than having the reminder of the things that he should be doing and how he needs to look after himself.

Now he stands in the clinic and is manipulating more metal from scrap that has been collected to make bigger, stronger bedframes for some of the base's non-human residents, in case of an emergency. Better to have it and not need it than having something too short for Galadriel or too fragile for Kang if they should get hurt. It wouldn't happen. He couldn't let it.

He looks a little more relaxed the longer he uses his magic, metal twisting and spiralling through the air. )

Comments

[dawningsun]

[And when people left, you simply pick up the pieces that they left behind, and you move on. Kirian is no stranger to loss, though, even though he had very little good to say about Adrasteius, the space left behind by his vanishing is like a void.

"We do what we must to survive", Kirian's words, to a sister he hasn't seen in months, even before his arrival here. And he meant them as dearly as anything else. Whatever it took to keep living, halfway motivated by spite to keep moving forward. There was no time for mourning, and there never was. Not for his parents, for his friends, not even for the prince he had once believed in. That remained true even here, in this galaxy.

Perhaps he should be thankful for the chance to instill a bit more order in this place, but he is rarely one to focus on the positives of a thing. He is a realist, he thought, and that meant that he was aware that there was much work to be done, and less hands to do it.

He is walking about the cargo bay, files tucked under his right arm, leaning on the cane in his left. In truth, he is having more days where he doesn't need the cane, but it is something that has become such a part of himself that he can't think to leave it behind.

And, besides, you never knew when you might need a weapon, in his experience.

He stops as he passes...what was his name again? D...something. Don...Donny? He thinks for a moment, making a slight face as he does. He eyes the twisting metal with curiosity, and wariness. He steps closer, and gesturing with his cane to it, he speaks.]

What are you doing?

[bumbles]

( As much as he was focused on his magic, using it is tied to Atlas, and for the most part he's able to retain a better awareness of his surroundings when he's using his magic than without. The metal buckles and twists around, a mess of scrap metal melting in the air and spinning into a sphere as he brings the metal together, doubles the quantity, so he can re-shape a beam to be more solid. )

M-making-- making equipment uh, to allow for the n-non-human t-transports, sir.

( Quietly, because he almost always speaks quietly, gaze flickering towards Kirian but not quite catching his gaze. Donny berates himself internally, jaw clenched, before he makes himself look properly. )

D-did-- did you need uh, n-need me somewhere else?

[dawningsun]

[Kirian almost seems to ignore the explanation for a moment, and the question. He gives Donny an appraising look, and steps past him to get a closer look at the metal.

Perhaps he would have been chided- especially by his sister, who could barely recall old alliances- for his fondness for humans. This particular human, however, seemed very...skittish. He likened him to a hawkstrider that would have been deemed lacking the boldness that would make them a proper bird.

Which was unfortunate, because he wasn't exactly unattractive.

After a bit of silence, he finally replies. He sounds as bored as usual.]

No, I was just curious. My own magic is slightly different. I was intrigued, that was all.

[He turned back to look at him, and then nods, a smirk on his face.]

Ah, that's right. Feferi was asking for contacts for the clinic. I gave her your name, because you've shown such initiative.

[bumbles]

( Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kirian. Donny is never sure what to do with people sounding like that, flat and bored. He worries at his lip with his teeth, letting the metal spiral and stretch out, finding comfort in the fact that his magic, if nothing else, can be counted on. Not all of it, a voice sounding suspiciously like his own sister's reminds him. Not her, not the Asteria he'd grown up with, but the voice of Nyx with cut its way into his dreams and then his mind. )

Um, the-- healing, and stuff? Or uh-- d-does it, um, do other stuff?

( Like Belle, like Morgana, who both seemed so gifted and so versatile. More useful than his limited to earth and fire, than his pretence at water and hopeless grasping at air.

And then, a double take, staring at the frame taking shape before he turns to look at Kirian, frame suspended in the air. ) Huh?

( Eloquent. )

[dawningsun]

[He raises his curled brows.]

I prefer the arcane...though I have a slight proficiency with fire and ice. I doubt that I'll be of much use for healing unless something needs to be cauterized.

[He waves his hand, and a sheet of paper materializes.]

I'm skilled with conjuring, as well. Here is your schedule for the next week.

[He smirks a bit, holding out the sheet of paper in a black gloved hand. It's a bit thicker than "normal" copy paper, almost parchment. The numbers and words seem to waver slightly, and almost glow purple-pink around the edges.]

I'd advise keeping that safe- it will change once a week.

[And he smirks, then.]

Ah, but I didn't answer your sound of confusion. Feferi...the girl? Grey skin? Fins? She was looking for contact information for...something or the other. I'd advise keeping your network device close by when you're not here.

[bumbles]

W-well, ice is g-good. I m-mean, um. Bruising and uh, for-- yeah.

( Ice isn't his area, he can get really sick if he uses it too much, but he does use it for bruises and burns, from time to time. Or to be convenient air conditioning for Max.

The conjuring, however, holds his interest, head slightly cocked as he gently - carefully - takes the piece of paper, watching it like it's something precious. The thickness of the paper and the glow of the letters, and it's like some kind of art. He smiles a little, tracing the lettering with the tips of his fingers before realising that Kirian is still speaking, still there, and that he should be paying more attention and not--

-- being weird. )

Yeah, sir. Th-thank-- thank you.

( The description registers, sounds familiar, and there's a moment of happiness and confusion and worry, and then-- ) D-did-- did you ask her t-to um, to text?

( Hopeful.... )

[dawningsun]

I did not.

[In Kirian's estimation, Donny having to speak to people would do him some good. He was far too timid with people, and it wouldn't surprise Kirian if Donny was the sort to post anonymously on the network, filling it with foolishness about dreams and wishes and other nonsense.

He nodded, and then, bluntly:]

Are you always so...

[He waved his hand as he groped for the word. He knew the right one in Thalassian, his mother tongue, but not in the language of the humans.]

...drawn in on yourself and frightened of others?

[It didn't quite have the nuance he was looking for, but that was good enough.]

[bumbles]

Oh. ( Right. Okay. He doesn't look especially crestfallen, but he does scratch his neck as he nods, resisting the urge to tug at his hair or twist his fingers into his shirt. It's difficult, has him flexing his hand to resist, but he manages.

The question isn't exactly new. As soon as it starts he's halfway to bracing himself for it, trying to square his shoulders and straighten up, to be less pathetic than whatever it was that prompted the question. These were the queries that came from family all too often. Odd lad, isn't he? they might say, or your boy's not quite right, hey Daniel? or Now Joy, Joy, why on Earth is Adonis so shy? Is he simple? Worst was when Horace caught him with an elbow in the ribs - Adonis, did your sisters tell you this was how to get the girls? Did they? I think they were having you on, now. When he ruffled Donny's hair a little too roughly for it to be fond and he could feel it all twisting up under his skin.

No, the questions not new, but when he was a janitor no one really cared to ask. ) I'm n-not-- I'm not frightened.

( Be better. Be like Atlas. ) I'm just-- j-just uh--

( This is so fucking feeble. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. ) Quiet. Introverted, I g-guess.

( Loser. )

[dawningsun]

[Kirian raises his brows slightly, and nods. He recalled, almost fondly, his own father. Dellan was a terribly nervous man, prone to fits of panic at times, but he was a calm person, a man who was endlessly patient.

He was a tailor, by trade, and not especially gifted with anything but simple magic. Kirian's mother, Allide, was a fair bit more like Kirian- headstrong, but devoted to her family.

Odd, how after nearly a millennium with someone, there's a space left vacant when they die.]

Is it worse when you're around more people?

[His father was the reason they lived outside of the city. Fortunate, then, that his skills as a tailor were well-known in Silvermoon that not many minded seeking him out in a quieter part of the forest.]

[bumbles]

It-- it d-depends on the p-people.

( If he's being totally honest. ) And-- some p-people m-make it easier? So even if um, even if it's m-me and them and a whole lot of other p-people? Them b-being there uh, helps. K-keeps-- breathing easy. And like there's uh, l-less-- less p-pressure.

( Max makes a lot of things easier, even if she makes everything so much more complicated. )

I know it's, um. Other p-people don't-- I m-make it more d-difficult for m-myself.

( By letting the panic set in, the tension, the way his tongue ties himself up. Sometimes he thinks he deserves everything he gets. )

[dawningsun]

Hmm, I see.

[It was strange to try and call on the ghost of his father, to remember what his habits were, how he carefully insulated himself from the world.

And yet, with that came the realization that his father was merely an impression of a man in his mind anymore- that he and Kirian's mother were two vague shapes in his past.

It came as a sobering surprise that he couldn't even remember his father's face with any clarity, only knowing that he had inherited his long, straight nose, and his narrow face.

His face seemed almost concerned, though if it was for Donny, or for himself, he couldn't say.

A small gesture, and there was a flash of purple sparkles and the shape of an eye over Donny's head. He would have hopefully felt a bit more mentally agile. Grats on your intelligence buff, Donny.]

I wonder if that would help.

[He took a folder from the pile on his desk.]

We should discuss these missions and supply shortages, I suppose.