[ OPEN ] recuperation & reconciliation

[stresstokens]

WHO: riz gukgak & YOU!!
WHEN: post-fear event onwards!
WHERE: throughout etraya (shops & diners, hospital, training grounds)
WHAT: in the wake of the fear event, riz gets to work on getting stronger, smarter, and trying to be a better friend (outcome: undecided). I'm down for anything! if you'd like something different, feel free to take up the wildcard or ping me on discord/plurk!
NOTES\WARNINGS: discussions of violence & paranoia



a. around town.

[ Riz is not doing well.

Riz is, it must be said, rarely doing well. He's the sort of kid who never learned to relax; no matter what, he always seems to be worried about something, the indefatigable machine that simply sprints from place to place, problem to problem, existing on a diet of convenience foods and coffee when left to his own devices, rarely sleeping. To some, he seems no worse than normal; the deep purple shadows underneath his eyes and the propensity to get startled easily and the tell-tale tremble of his hands from too much caffeine just being a part of what makes Riz, Riz. The only other oddity is the fact that he seems to shy away from his own reflection; whether it's a mirror, a pane of glass, or even a metal napkin receptacle, it gets covered up, avoided, or otherwise pushed out of sight.

But he's doing what he does best, which is pretending none of it exists in the first place. Perhaps you catch him late at night at the coffee shop, whiling away the wee hours of the morning with a cup of coffee approximately as large as his head, scribbling wildly in a thick notebook, his square spectacles sliding steadily down his nose. He startles when someone else comes in, jolting in his seat and knocking his cup askew -- possibly spilling it all over your shoes. ] Shit -- sorry, sorry! I wasn't expecting anyone here!

[ Or maybe you run into him during the daytime, at the grocery store shoving an absolutely obscene amount of beef into a shopping cart far bigger than he is, at the clothing store hunting down clothes for himself in the petit section (or childrens section but, well, beggars can't be choosers), or scarfing down food at an alarming rate in the diner. He's a man about town -- and a man who doesn't particularly want to be home too much right now.

Or perhaps you run into him somewhere else entirely, wandering around Bangsan Market, fingers drumming on his elaborately tattooed forearms. ] Okay. Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you just had the worst month ever. What kinda gift would cheer you up...?

[ Or are all gifts meaningless when you don't have to spend any money on them? Hm. Troubling. Very troubling. ]

b. first-aid refreshers.

[ In the wake of everything that's happened and with no handy Cleric nearby, Riz has made the decision to freshen up on his first-aid skills. You can spot him at the hospital loading an obscene amount of materials into his briefcase, which appears to be able to hold endless amounts of supplies; gauze, bandages, needles and thread, antiseptic and antibiotics, and ice packs and heat packs all make their way in.

Otherwise? He's in a public place like the diner, with an enormous tome on first-aid in front of him that he's frowning at in-between applying his expertise to a suturing practice kit he has laid in front of him, his nimble fingers hooking the needle steadfastly through silicone skin. If he notices he has an audience, he might glance up with a sheepish sort of smile, the knitting of his brows off-setting the row of razor-sharp teeth. ] I figure I should get some practice in while I still can. [ He glances down at the wound kits in front of him with a frown. ] I still haven't got the wound packing quite right, I don't think.

c. training.

[ First-aid training is one thing. Riz is dexterous and nimble and has a great attention to detail, all things that have led to him being a dab hand at figuring out how to deal with battlefield injuries. The physical part of the equation is something else, and something he's decided to dedicate himself to, his own exhaustion be damned.

His gunwork is fine. Great, even. He hits his marks with the consistency and precision they require. It's everything else that he's lacking in. Which is how you might spot him doing laps around a field, in a rare showing of having changed out of his usual stuffy suit-and-tie number, and... honestly, not doing that great. When he finally stops, hands braced on his knees and taking a swig out of a bottle of water, he looks like he might keel over.

Otherwise, you might find him on the training grounds, staring dubiously at the weights (he picks one up with both hands, slams it back down again, dubiously walking down the rack as the weights get smaller, and smaller, and smaller...) and looking over at the rest of the gym as though it contains any answers for him. Strength isn't his strong suit, he knows, but maybe he could be stronger? Or, perhaps, you see him with his rapier out, doing the same drills he'd been taught all those months ago at Aguefort Academy. If you pop in and look interested, he may well flag you down and ask, ] Hey, you here to train too?

d. friendship tour.

[ The last task on his to-do list is the hardest one of them all: trying to get better at being a friend, and not just some mechanism made for solving mysteries. It's clear that his brain has been failing him these days, which leaves one more option: trying to become a better friend.

If you're one of Riz's friends or acquaintances, whether he runs into you by chance or he texts you directly, Riz is going to be approaching you to check up on you. It's time to talk. About feelings. Not his own, obviously, but he's checking in on you -- with maybe some food to help ease the blow, or an offer to just get wonderfully, fabulously drunk. They deserve it. ]

e. wildcard!

[ hit me up for anything! you can find me on the discord or on plurk @ wisdombitch xoxoxo ]

Comments

for gorgug!

[stresstokens]

[ While Riz would never admit this sorry fact out loud, things had actually been easier in the days immediately following the curse being lifted. He just didn't have the time or capacity to spend more than a little while thinking about everything that had happened; they had been in crisis mode, plain and simple. Nothing had been more important than getting Gorgug and Fabian home, dressing their wounds, and keeping an eye on them. And once Fabian had recovered, they'd stayed on top of their primary task: take care of Gorgug. Ask him how he's doing (too many times, way, way too many times), make sure he's eating and drinking, keep an eye on him for any side-effects or lingering remnants of the curse, make sure that even if he doesn't want to talk, you're at least somewhere closeby. It had been a team effort between the two of them, tagging each other in and out to ensure that their friend could be taken care of. Riz imagines that Fabian is doing a better job than he can, boisterous and charismatic and brimming with the sort of optimistic energy you need by your side during times like these, but he does his best. (Gorgug likes Fabian more anyway, a nagging memory reminds him. Riz doesn't bother to doubt that. If he were Gorgug, he'd like Fabian more too.)

It's not enough, of course. Riz isn't sure anything could ever be enough. What Gorgug really needed was a stay in a proper hospital for treatment, with a proper Cleric on-call, some time recuperating underneath the careful, loving eye of his parents, and maybe some time talking to a professional about it. Like Jawbone, maybe.

But they don't have that. Here, these days (without Adaine around; Riz allows himself some sadness about that, spending time in her empty apartment to take a breather or two, but is largely just happy she was spared from this mess), it's just the three of them. So they do what they can. Riz maps out the right things to do and say like he's solving a mystery, like there exists some magical combination of words and deeds that can make things right. He's felt like that for much of his life. It is not a great surprise to learn that it doesn't work now either.

Once Gorgug's up and running again, it gets harder. Harder to know what to do, what to say, how to express his worries in a way that isn't just smothering the guy, chasing away shadowed memories of days he'd rather leave behind. He refuses to admit that to himself, though, bound and determined to make up for everything that they lack. He's going to be a good goddamn friend if it kills him. Which it won't! Because friendship is great! And if he just does it good enough, they'll go back to normal, without Riz having to spill his guts about how horribly sorry he is for letting this happen on his watch, because every time he thinks about talking about it, he finds himself on the other side of town.

Today's task is: make sure that Gorgug doesn't spend all day in his lab instead of eating, in what feels like a strange twist on their usual routine. With Gorgug's usual order from the diner swinging from a hefty bag in one hand and his briefcase in his other, he knocks on the doorframe before letting himself in. ]

Hey! [ There's a crinkle of plastic as he wags it in Gorgug's direction. ] Lunch?

[tinflower]

[ The best part about his lab-slash-workshop-slash-fucking-around-space is that there's no one else in it.

It's empty, it's full; there's things that Gorgug can do, and there's technically a boy stuck in a mirror oblivious to what's been going on in the outside world, ignorant to what's happened. But for the hours that Gorgug wastes pretending to make metal fish, on reading words on artificing that he immediately forgets, and draining the power on his crystal to do nothing but play music on his headphones, there's no--and this is shameful to admit, so he won't ever admit it--Fabian and Riz.

There's no one. But the thing is, that means Fabian and Riz get a break. Except for when they feel compelled to come and check on him, which is actually pretty often. Compared to how it used to be, and it's the reason he leaves the door open to his lab, so that (he doesn't get spooked by the knocking) they can come in whenever they like. They want to do that, it makes them feel better; it's what they deserve, after everything. So he's trying to do his best to be a good friend, talking to them when they need him to speak, and to help everything get back to normal and to what it was before everything happened.

Because then they'll get the real break. They'll worry less, they'll visit less, and they'll smile more while doing things that don't feel like they're for him, where everything is for him. And he'll finally do things for them as soon as he can think of anything, do anything; and actually, he thinks there was something that he wanted to talk to Riz about, but he doesn't remember what--

Gorgug startles, but then freezes pretty quick. He knows that knock, and he knows to focus, to he looks from where he is (from this angle, he must be where all the pillows and beanie bags and sitting arrangement is, next to Bryn's mirror--did he come over to read a book?), sees the green figure peeking through and-- lunch? Oh, it must be lunchtime. Gorgug pulls a smile on his face that feels appreciative, because that's what he's going for. That's what's normal. ]

Cool. I'm hungry.

[ That's normal too. He looks down to close his book, and finds his crystal there instead clenched in a hand. It's opened on a playlist that hasn't been picked, and he notices his other hand, sitting close against his stomach, palm facing up and, ah. There's a sting, a throb. That's right: didn't he burn it?

That's right. He think it burned it today doing metalwork, ran water under it and then--something else. But Gorgug can't think about that. If Riz is here, that means he has to get up, set aside his phone so he can go to the mirror; mumble it a quiet "Sorry, Riz is visiting" to a boy that may or may not be listening in, or off doing his own thing in mirror land.

Riz, you're welcome to wander on in. There's plenty of surfaces to eat on (even a proper kitchen space, if you're so inclined), but why would you pick any of those and not the space with all the pillows and beanie bags, in the corner that Gorgug's already in? Don't worry. Gorgug's already in the process of turning the mirror for you. ]

[stresstokens]

[ Gorgug is smiling, which is an improvement on the state of affairs as they've been thus far. It's probably not a totally real smile (who could really feel that happy after going through all of that; it's Riz's personal opinion that Gorgug faced the worst of it the past couple of months, and he doesn't think there's a person alive who could possibly argue with that), but it might not be a totally fake one either, so he'll take it. Everyone's fine. Nobody died, as far as Riz is concerned. But this all feels a little like the time after his Dad died anyway, months later, when the Gukgaks realized that grief was not sustainable and they went out of their way to at least pretend at being happy again.

Eventually, it worked. Eventually, they were happy again for real, their laughter genuine, smiles unfurling upon their faces unasked for, lightness returning to their lives. Eventually this will work too. You go through shit, you get over it, you move on, and good things are waiting for you on the other side.

Riz smiles back. ]

I thought you might be.

[ He knows Gorgug hasn't been going out much, which means he's not grabbing take-out much, which means he's not eating. And yeah, he notices the way that Gorgug turns the mirror around (it makes his ears go ruddy with embarrassment; he hasn't talked to Gorgug about seeing Baron, hasn't told anyone about his aversion to mirrors, but it was probably impossible for Gorgug not to notice while they're living together and Riz is continuously brushing his teeth sitting on the floor instead of looking in the mirror like some sort of crazy person), but he decides not to comment on it. It's fine. It's fine! It's just -- a nice thing he's doing, because Gorgug's nice, no matter how much some primal, animal part of his brain wants to disagree with that notion.

He gets to work disassembling the enormous bag of takeout. It's Gorgug's favourite - though Riz doesn't sacrifice much in getting Gorgug's favourites; Riz's favourites are much the same, being that Riz's favourite food is just food in general - all laid out on the table between the squashy bean bags. He surveys his handiwork, then nods, satisfied. It feels a little less meaningful as an act of service when he doesn't even have to pay for it, but whatever. He wouldn't be able to afford paying for Gorgug's meal back home anyway. ]

I probably got too much, but we can always heat the rest up for dinner tonight, and... [ His eyes dart over. Very little gets past him. ] Hey, did you burn yourself?

[tinflower]

[ Riz and Gorgug do share in common their tastes in food: in that anything is good, as long as it's food. Gorgug has a preference for meat, and maybe the goblin can agree with having plenty of that in a diet when you're able, with the toppings and sides surrounding it secondary, really. Stick it between bread, stick it on top of bread, or find some other carb to be its companion: it all goes down the same way.

Which is where Gorgug goes, sitting back down on the beanie bags and cushions, taking a place at a side that doesn't put him immediately close to Riz, but not at complete opposites. The spread that Riz has set out makes it easy to take the spot, and the table gives plenty of space for these times: it's meant for sharing with a big group. A six-people sized group that might not be present right now, but that doesn't mean that you can't prepare when you plan out the entirety of the lab and what goes in it.

He doesn't dig right in, but he does pick up a burger to slide in front of himself, knows how to go through these motions. And, it is obvious, the one thing that Gorgug doesn't think to hide or to put effort into making normal: he's keeping his burnt hand on his lap, palm upward. And not being at a complete opposite end of the table from Riz does make it noticeable to see, his inquistive gaze one that always locks into the small details. There's discolouration on Gorgug's skin on the side under his thumb, not always easy to tell with his green complexion for most.

Even Gorgug wasn't thinking about it, though he can feel it throbbing now uncomfortably on his hand; he blinks over at Riz, confused, then looks down to follow his gaze. Oh, right, his hand. ]

I caught it. I think I forgot my gloves. [ He probably did, right? He's looking at it, trying to recall, but he also doesn't think it matters that much; it's not worth bringing attention to, really. So he looks back at Riz and pulls his lips into a small smile, and sets the hand down to rest on the table, sitting the burn mark on the surface. It's a little cool, which is nice, but it's not a pleasant feeling that lasts for long. ]

It's okay. It doesn't hurt. [ And easily, breezing right along: ] What's up?

[ What's been up with you, Riz? ]

[stresstokens]

Oh, um, n-not much. [ Riz scratches idly at his cheek. He and Gorgug have stayed out of each other's way enough in the wake of everything for Riz's fear not to truly take the wheel, and for all that Riz is a shitty liar, he's a practiced pro at pretending like everything's okay. It only comes to him in moments, in waves; watching Gorgug from behind as he swings the frying pan that takes Riz two hands just to lift, muscles working in his massive shoulders, the moments where he thinks he can see a flash of movement by his clueboard in the dark, the brief churning of his gut when Gorgug idly snaps the bone of a chicken wing in half.

It's fine. That part he's got a handle on. He's never been one for dramatics anyway. What's a lot harder for him is not retreating into an awkwardness they've long since grown past, long pauses, stuttered responses -- not consistent enough to be a pressing issue, but it flares up in times like this. What's he been up to? Apologizing to everyone? Trying to train so that he can fuck up a little less in the future? Practicing first-aid so that next time he has to sew Gorgug up, it won't leave a scar? Working on the clueboards that Gorgug knows damn well have been useless?

He can't say that shit. Instead, he shoves a whole handful of fries in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he considers what the least lame option is. ]

Actually, I've been brushing up on my first-aid skills a little. I haven't taken a class since Freshman Year, so I figured it was about time. [ He nods at Gorgug's hand. ] You sure you don't want me to wrap that up for you? I could use the practice.

cw: thoughts of self harm

[tinflower]

[ It takes a couple of seconds to decide, really. Maybe five or eight, where on the outside, Gorgug looks down at his hand silently, then flips it back over to look at the reddening mark, sore, and likely to blister with some more time. Silence sitting in-between, like the same space that cushions their physical distance. Considerate. Deliberate.

He wants to say no, immediately: because Riz owes him nothing, certainly not his kindness. And while they've managed to get down the steps to this dance they've wordlessly agreed upon (idle greetings in the apartment, Riz making sure he's okay; the visits with food to double, triple check on that, and the conversation at dinners shared with the both of them and Fabian given a forced liveliness that Gorgug tries to remember to smile through), it's not one where either of them need to get close. Riz doesn't need to get close to him, because Gorgug hasn't forgotten the last time he was: cradling his unconscious figure in his arms, the wrist he wouldn't let go of, the same one that he broke; how he pinned Riz's small body under his arm, the squeaking of the whiteboard of every lie Gorgug wrote out, insecurities either blown out or points made to find the sharpest to sink into either of them. It was never about a one-sided hurt, but it was all about Riz.

But. Isn't it for that same reason that Gorgug should let Riz do as he pleases? He could do with the practice: those are the words that make Gorgug reconsider. It's useful, it's helpful; it's everything that Gorgug hasn't been able to be, and it's by Riz's volition that he gets close to him. He calls the shots. He can back out at any point that he likes.

(And, a quick thought passes through Gorgug's mind, is if Riz wants the practice, sincerely, that Gorgug could help with that: he could give him better practice. Deeper, something that requires stitches. Depending on if Riz seems okay with doing this much--Riz has to be okay.) ]

Okay. [ He looks over at Riz, squeezes a small smile and keeps his hand upright. Not moving, but deciding to wait on Riz's direction; if he'll come over, or ask Gorgug to move for him, to push aside the plates for room. ] I've got a first aid kit somewhere. I don't remember how many I asked for-- but they let me have them when I asked for the buildings. We always have them back home.

[ Should he look for it? Again, he might, but he refuses to take charge without Riz's instruction. He waits on his terms.

The silence is so loud above their heads. Life around them waits on what comes next. ]

[stresstokens]

It's okay. I've been gathering supplies from the hospital for a while now to make sure my kit's fully decked out.

[ He'll never be found lacking again. No -- that's a lie. He will, again and again, just because that's the nature of life. But as long as he has his trusty briefcase by his side, he'll make sure they have everything they need to survive: kindling and camping gear, first-aid kits and changes in clothes, food and water. He's learned his lesson. With the thought of the smaller first-aid kit clear in his mind, he reaches in and produces a first-aid kit and trots over to sit by Gorgug, thigh against thigh.

It's the most natural thing in the world. As much as he had obsessed over Fabian's friendship, Gorgug had been the first person in the Bad Kids that Riz had felt most physically comfortable with, always crawling all over him or stealing his shit or otherwise taking advantage of Gorgug's sweet, gentle, non-confrontational nature to assert himself in his space. And for a second, it feels as natural as it ever did, just following the old patterns of his body like a cat reflexively settling down in the same spot its bed always on, even if their bed had been moved well across the room.

He only realizes the enormity of sitting beside Gorgug when he teases his hand open and glances down at his own small hand, dwarfed in Gorgug's palm, a sudden memory of the last times they were this close jerking him out of reality for but a moment -- Gorgug's hand gripping the back of his head, snuffing him out, Riz flying at Gorgug like a wild banshee, claws and teeth tearing and gnashing like he wasn't up against one of his dearest friends. Is Gorgug reminded of it too? He couldn't possibly be scared of Riz, impotent as he'd been, but Riz had hurt him anyway.

But Riz has a good poker face, and Gorgug's senses aren't so keen that they can catch onto the tattoo of his heart. There are no tells of how he feels save for a moment's silent and his sweaty palms, both things not terribly unusual for Riz on a normal day. It's easy for him to take those feelings and carefully set them aside in favour of digging around for some antiseptic and then some burn ointment, daubing at it with a cotton pad and smearing it across Gorgug's palm, still cool from where the first-aid kit had been bobbing in some sort of magical third space. ] This'll sting a little.

[ As though Gorgug isn't their damage sponge anyway. But it's still nice to warn him. ]

I'm no Kristen Applebees, [ he says conversationally, ripping off a length of bandage with his teeth, ] but I'm gonna figure out how to tackle this stuff without magic. They got all these reference books in the hospital right there for the -- [ stealing ] -- taking. I grabbed some of those practice pads too, for stitches? There are special ways to do it so it doesn't leave too bad of a scar.

[ A white bandage winds its way around Gorgug's hand. ]

But hopefully I won't have to know how to do that for a while. How's this feel? Too tight?

[ It is, a little. Everything Riz does is. He's a tense guy. ]

[tinflower]

[ The sting is an irritation to his skin, expected before Riz's warning, and Gorgug does his best not to flinch too noticeably on his features. He's the team sponge, but he's always been a bit of a baby outside of battles when he gets hurt; Fig's always laughed at him (fondly, teasingly) when he whines about knocking a shin or getting a cut on his finger. Pain is pain, and adrenaline is what dampens it in the middle of battle, inside and out of his rages.

But he's never, probably, wanted to be as stone faced to it as he does now, for a relatively minor annoyance. So he tries to be; to the wound, to Riz's presence against him, bodies touching casually in a manner that Gorgug doesn't question, but just--

He doesn't want to hurt. He doesn't want to cause a problem. So Gorgug stays as aware of himself as he can, tries to, and misses all the little things that a more perceptive person might make note of: Riz's clammy hands, the schooled expression on his face. Gorgug doesn't even look at their hands but lower, allowing Riz the privacy of doing up his hand without feeling like he's being watched. If he were to even look.

(But maybe, it's more for himself. Maybe it has nothing to do with Riz's feelings, and just his own.)

He listens without speaking, and only when the question of the bandage comes up does Gorgug do anything else. Flexing his fingers, testing what's already a taut dressing. It irritates the burn with its pressure, but- ]

No, [ he says. ] It's good, it won't come off-- thank you.

[ He doesn't know if it's too tight. Gorgug doesn't particularly care--he'll put up with it, bringing his hands to cup together, the bandaged one over the other. ]

I'll try to be more careful. I guess we should all-- learn to deal with wounds without magic. Without Kristen around. Just to get us by. Maybe there's...other things we can do, too. To make up for missing half our team.

[ He's speaking, really, just to speak; latching onto something said and trying to build conversation after it. He doesn't know what they could do to make up for their missing friends, what gaps are missing, their flaws. Gorgug doesn't think about these things.

But Riz thinks a lot, and so it might be good enough for him. He's probably already thought all about it, has ideas ready to pour out. If he wants to share them--if that's something he'd event want to talk about to Gorgug, now. ]

[stresstokens]

We should all know a little first-aid, [ Riz agrees. Now that the deed is done, he wastes no time in springing back to his feet and putting some distance between the two of them, covered up by the (thankfully sensible) need to put all his supplies away and wash his hands before he tucks in. ] I took a whole course on it back at Aguefort, but it makes more sense for me to be the one who can have more of a focus on it.

[ It's just the sensible prospect. Unless things have gone incredibly sideways, Riz just isn't on the front lines; the likelihood of Gorgug or Fabian having to heal him is a lot lower than him healing them. ]

Besides, you and Fabian can actually do it magically... but it wouldn't be too bad for all of us to brush up on it, just in case. [ There's a quiet clunk as he flicks his briefcase closed again. There is the tricky little detail that Riz had gotten hurt recently, and quite badly too, but it's easy for Riz to breeze by. Easier still when Gorgug was the one who got slashed at and shot at and had the corruption manually carved out of his body when all Riz had gotten was squeezed and thrown.

Emotional anguish aside, it's just kind of embarrassing. ]

What else could we be doing, d'you figure?

[ Fabian can handle Fig's roles all right; he's not as advanced a bard as Fig is and has a different specialty besides, but he's damn good at it. Adaine, though? There's no making up for losing their Wizard. Despite Fabian's magic and Gorgug's gadgets, there's nothing quite like the sheer arcane power that had previously been at their disposal.

Or really, just having Adaine around in general. She'd have something smart to say about this mess, he's sure. But as sorely as he misses her, a part of him is glad that she's home, away from this mess. Maybe by the time they see her again, it will be to tell her that they solved the mystery and are coming home once and for all. ]

[tinflower]

[ Yes, it's sensible, the way that Riz gets up. He has things to do, but still: the speed speaks for him without it even needing to be rushed, in terms of what people would see that as.

It could be Gorgug's own mind, telling him that Riz got up quickly. It could be fact, that Riz didn't linger at all. Gorgug refuses to give it any attention beyond it's fine. Everything is fine. The manner that he waits for Riz's back to be turned before he pulls forward a bowl with nuggets in them so he can to proceed to show that he's paying attention to Riz's efforts is meaningless, too.

The action is secondary, anyway, to Riz's question. One that requires Gorgug to consider what they're missing: not in terms of teammates, but if they were to be a team, now, with all their holes and fractures. If they needed to step up. ]

I guess... slowing down anything we have to deal with would help. Having ways to handle a large group, or dealing with a large space. If we want to attack someone, or just make it harder for them to get to us. You know-- the way Fig and Adaine can make the ground shake, or Kristen with her Spirit Guardians... stuff we can set off at long-range, too.

[ But is that useful only in a fight, or in getting away? Gorgug isn't really looking at Riz as he picks up a nugget, popping it in his mouth and chewing it quickly down. ]

But I guess, detection and... identifying. Adaine was good at that. My-- I can learn it, but I think we... it would be good to have access to some abilities without needing someone to cast them first. If we have to deal with curses, or traps, or trying to get away... we should figure out a way we can all deal with that.

[ ... ] In case we get separated.

[ Due to separation, of course. He pops another nugget in his mouth, the motion of chewing and swallowing each to repeat. ]

[stresstokens]

[ This is a good subject, Riz thinks. It's neutral ground. Easy. Safe. He knows he and Gorgug have been dancing around each other for a while now, but it's going to sort itself out, he's certain. He doesn't hold what Gorgug did against him, and he's pretty sure Gorgug doesn't hold anything Riz did against him either, so they just need to... figure it out. Navigate around each other until it gets normal. This is an encouraging step in that direction.

Sure, Gorgug might hold past stuff against him - almost certainly so, considering everything he said back when he was possessed - but that's -- it's fine! Because he's fixing it. He's going to fix everything. Starting with talking tactics. He's quick and he's clever, and the one thing they both know like the back of their hand is their party dynamics in a fight. ]

Yeah. Separation's kind of the name of the game here, isn't it? They find ways to make sure we're fragmented. [ He drums his fingers against his thigh, then leans forward to grab a small handful of fries himself, putting them in his mouth one-by-one as he thinks instead of just shoving the whole thing into his mouth as he usually would, though he's not sure why he's minding his manners in front of Gorgug, who is quite possibly the only other person here to regularly devour raw meat until their mouths are red and bloodied. ]

That's part of why I'm trying to figure this stuff out without magic. And because I can't use it, [ he admits, a little sheepish. He's the only person in their entire party with no magical aptitude at all, which usually isn't a problem, but he's been feeling that lack more and more. ] When it comes to identifying stuff and disarming traps, I've at least got that down pat. Maybe we should all teach each other some of the basics of what we can do? A skill swap, or something?

[ He can at least teach the boys how to disarm traps, how to look out for them, the basic ins and outs of investigation. ]

I think... we also need to figure out ways of subduing people without killing them, or hurting them more than we have to. People getting fucked up has been a problem three times by now, and my nets aren't cutting it.

[ He shuts his eyes, thinking. ]

Metal nets instead of cloth ones. Trip wires. Bombs. Maybe something that would, like, fuck with someone's senses -- blinding them, deafening them, or some sort of like, sonic bomb? We can stock up my briefcase with most of it, and make sure everyone else has some in their packs in case of separation.

...but I don't want you to have to do all the work here. If we're going full gadget, I wanna help.

[tinflower]

[ Gorgug would like to feel more engaged. Following Riz when it comes to plans always feels like speaking through mesh, a separation of their skills and their talents and where Gorgug should be listening more, contribute when it feels right. But right now, it's more like a firmer wall; even if there's room here where Gorgug should have thoughts and ideas, he's pushing for them to come out, to exist. To not feel lethargic against the conversation.

Trying to hold onto a point said and stay afloat, so he doesn't just shut down, and drown. ]

We can get books. We can [ the tiniest pause ] learn together. The wiring and tech here isn't the same, so... I need to learn, too. If we're gonna keep running into robots.

[ It's not enough to let his magic do the work: he needs to understand to a degree, and even with magic, it had been Adaine's contribution that helped him with making the drone in Moorecroft. It had been Aelwyn's magic that had helped him with the souls stuck into the mirror shards. Granted, the last one had less to do with electronics as it had to do with pure magic, but he was still out of his depth. He nearly had no real way of getting Adaine and the others free.

But he looks at Riz, then regrets it when he looks back down, grabbing at one of the fries. Like he hadn't meant to look at him at all. ]

You learn magic--if that's okay to say. You get gadgets. [ ... ] You're good at it.

[ Is it too much? Is fluffing Riz up really useful in this instance? Gorgug thinks he remembers Riz saying it's okay to learn details about his future not relevant to cases or happenings around them, but Gorgug still isn't sure. He feels the apprehension, and stuffs another fry in his mouth.

Resists the urge to shoe a fistful of them into his mouth instead. ]

[stresstokens]

Okay, books! Books, we can do!

[ Ignorant of Gorgug's abject agony, Riz instead latches onto what he can do. As uncomfortable and strange as things still are, a quiet, tentative overture of peace, he's a man who likes things in itemized lists, graphs, straight lines, things he can do to be useful, to be good. That's what half of all of that shit they talked about was about, right? Riz hasn't been useful here. This is a way to be useful, an avenue he hasn't explored in his insistence on attempting fruitless investigation after fruitless investigation.

He can learn the principles of technology here. He's good at the book stuff - actually digging into the mechanics of things and being able to make it work is another thing entirely, something reserved for not only Gorgug's skill, but his passion for it in a way Riz absolutely lacks - and he can at least provide statistics and insights. It's a start. A mission, even. A part of him wants to dart out of the lab immediately and go scrounging around for some, get started, prove that he's taking it seriously and this isn't just him verbally meandering --

His shoulders rise, then fall with the stifled instinct, reaching out to grab a couple of fries for himself as well. ]

I'm all right to hear stuff about, like, future acquired skills. I couldn't hang around you and Fabian otherwise, [ he says, glancing appraisingly at him. ] But I dunno -- I don't think it counts as learning magic if all I'm doing is using the stuff that was already made for that? Otherwise just using a crystal is like performing magic.

[ Everything in their city runs on arcanotech, after all. Learning how to use more devices like his father did is just spywork, he thinks. ]

It's okay, I -- [ I'm useful in other ways, he almost says, because he's been saying it to every other person here who wants to learn about their world. Yes, Adaine is an incredible wizard, yes Gorgug is huge and strong and clever around arcanotech, and yes, Fabian can somehow channel energy through dance in a way that can make everyone around him faster, smarter, stronger, but he's useful too. He's a detective, and a Rogue, and every party could use one of those. His pause is so brief to nearly be imperceptible as he trucks on. ] I don't mind not learning magic the way you guys learn it, [ he says instead, hastening to brush past it. ] Uh, what kinds of gadgets do I get? Rogue classes must have sped up.

[tinflower]

[ Is it all gadgetry? Gorgug doesn't want to say for sure, since when it's been a while, and he knows that some of Riz's spells run through technology first, but--it's the same as his own artificing works, isn't it? Gorgug wants to protest a little, or he considers it, but he's pre-emptively shut down before he can come to that decision: It's okay.

So maybe Gorgug shouldn't put his mouth in it right now. He should ask Fabian if he remembers, when he's fairly sure of the answer there, and the right answer would be to ask Adaine. Adaine would know. Adaine and Riz always talked shop the best.

(What would Adaine do right now? She would tell him to stop wallowing. To get better if he actually wants to. And doesn't he?) ]

Um, well- you're looking for the rogue teacher. I know that much. And I know you program a lot into your watch? But I don't know the specifics.. except the holographic technology. I was studying that too, for my classes. And invisibility.

[ He's not touching at the food, not even picking at it. It's all right at front of him, but what he thinks he should focus on is Riz. In this conversation. ]

We can do that too, here, now? If you want to work on your watch and make any changes. I've got some books here that might show you something close how it works. I can go look?

[ He's got artificer books, after all. And hell, when it came to Riz's arcadian watch, they were always doing guess work. It's High Heaven technology. But they didn't do too bad once they nearly broke it a few times. Riz was even working to tinker the spells in them easier over time! ]

[stresstokens]

[ Riz doesn't look at Gorgug properly for a moment. More specifically, he's looking at the food -- and at Gorgug's hands, where they lay still in his lap. Is it because the burn makes it hurt to pick up food? No, no, that's ridiculous. They've had feasts while practically at death's door. Then maybe he's not hungry? Or maybe the food's gotten a little cold? Is this conversation sucking for him? Is he just still too uncomfortable around him to eat? There's something Riz read in a book once, about how some animals can only eat when they feel perfectly safe, and so often wind up starving to death when placed under captivity.

It's not terribly obvious when Riz does this sort of thing, because it's just a Riz thing -- to either avoid eye contact or make intensely uncomfortable eye contact, for his eyes to glaze over while he's thinking, to fall silent and strange as his mind pulls at different threads.

He snaps back to attention soon enough. It's better to think about contingency plans and arcanotech and conspiracy theories instead. He snaps back at attention, thrilled to grasp onto what is -- well, what's familiar. It's like his Dad said. Sometimes, people show love through their work. And this is Gorgug's work, work on something that's really, really important to Riz. That's how his Dad talks to him. Or... will talk to him. He hopes. ]

Hey, yeah! That'd be really awesome! [ He glances down. ] My watch is super rad. It's cool that it gets, or, that you can make it even radder. Did you, um, want me to put the rest of this away for later?

[ There's gotta be a minifridge or something around here. Where else would he keep his energy drinks? ]