[Now here's a place we've never had a PC before: still on Execution Island™, just outside the doors to the Execution Bar™. After all, that's what you do after a performance, isn't it? Go wait just outside the backstage door for your leading man to finish taking off his executioner's costume and void makeup and come stumbling back out into the bright blinking light of day.
The thing is, this is just — it's just been a hell of a week on Ryn in one particular manner that Thancred really doesn't like. Injuries are one thing, of course, but all the mindfucking and perception-switching and personality-reversing and voidcalling has him more than a little worried. And sure, he's been doing his damnedest to field it as best he can, to roll with it and accommodate it and do his job keeping Rynlan safe, but at the end of the day he really just wants his elf back.
He's even waiting with a bribe. His gunbreaker coat is already off his shoulders, dangling instead from one hastily-bandaged hand.
[when he comes to find thancred, it's clearly a little difficult. he doesn't have anything to lean on for his injured leg, but he can still manage to walk, albeit with a limp-- the trouble is the good couple hits he took from filbo's shadow. he moves slowly, careful not to overextend himself until he can actually assess the damage.
and when he finds him-
...he doesn't have it in him to take the coat and put it on fully, to pause long enough for that, but he does take it and clutch it close as he just lets himself fall right against thancred.
[Of course he does. It's still probably a little early for him to be overexerting himself with things like carrying Ryn outright, even given the time that's passed since he got back from his misadventure with Gideon, but unfortunately he's back in the range where Tank Behavior™ is more than poised to override good common sense.
There's something more important for him to do first, however, so he doesn't try to move them as yet. He lets Rynlan lean on him instead, holding him up and bearing the majority of his weight, and presses his lips against Ryn's head before nudging his mouth a little closer to one pointed ear.]
Tell me you're with me, isne ul. Follow the sound of my voice.
[Only, he leans a little too hard on one of the syllables without quite meaning to, so it comes out as "Follow the sound of my voice", instead. Telling, that.]
[he catches that slight emphasis, and-- it always catches him off guard, this instinctive understanding thancred seems to have for what he needs. his arms wrap around him, holding on, as he murmurs a little desperately-]
Keep going.
[with his voice, he means. he can't handle quiet right now-- he'll only hear those whispers.]
[They've already had him too much as it is. He nudges at Ryn just a little, prompting for him to let go of the coat so he can work on getting it around him instead.
Strange, how for just a fleeting moment, he finds himself recalling an old memory of Urianger — of his certainty in his spell for walking on water, of seeing him plunge into the depths, of his body already moving to chase after him almost before his mind had even caught up.
This feels like that all over again, somehow. Diving after Rynlan while the deep threatens to carry him away. Pushing air into his lungs. Swimming hard enough for both of them to get his head back above the surface once more.]
Get your arms through, darling, I'll carry you the rest of the way to the ferry.
[he lets himself be nudged, threads his arms through the sleeves of thancred's coat and lets it drape easily around him.
better. much better.
rynlan isn't thinking of much right now, for his part-- that much is likely clear from the way he just nods a bit absently when thancred says he'll carry him, not even objecting and telling him to be careful.]
[It's not particularly easy to bundle him up and support him both at the same time, but he manages well enough before ignoring the twinge of his protesting back and scooping Ryn up into a princess carry, adjusting the placement of his arms so that he can rest his head on Thancred's shoulder, and burrow against his neck if he likes.
Also, that keeps his own face close to Ryn's ears, and makes it easier to keep his slow steady stream of chatter present for him to cling to.]
I've been writing you a song, you know. Not like the one I sang for you at the beach. One that will make you smile, I think. I know much and more time has passed since then but I could never seem to find the words. You should see that notebook I carry around; I think half of it is just scribbles of notions and then some.
[It's not far to the ferry. He keeps murmuring as they go.]
But lately it's started to come together. Funny, isn't it? You said surfal and it's like the sky opened up overhead. And you call me your sun.
[he rests his head on thancred's shoulder, taking the opening he's given, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. thancred has him, he knows, but forgive him for feeling clingy.]
...mm. You are my sun, though. Couldn't see things properly before.
[those words are murmured into his neck, the energy leaving him once he feels safe, adrenaline draining. for all that he prefers the shadow-- he needed the light, the warmth, in a way that he didn't fully realize until it was given to him.]
[Oh. Oh, well if that doesn't just make him feel all warm and radiant inside, himself...]
I have been. Shall I sing you some of it? 'Tis unfinished as yet, of course, but.
[He sways them a little as he walks along, almost rocking Rynlan in his arms.]
It doesn't matter where you go or what you do / I want to spend each moment of the day with you / Well, look what has happened with just one kiss / Whoever knew that we could be in love like this? ...
[He trails off, humming the tune of the melody he's chosen, but not supplying any more words as yet.]
[...he hides a little smile against thancred's neck, there, as he listens. maybe he can tell, maybe he can't, but-- at least ryn can pretend he doesn't see it.
whoever knew, indeed?
but what he murmurs aloud, whenever there's a break in the tune, is-]
It started with one, you incorrigible brat. Or have you so soon forgotten?
[It's exasperated on its face, but beneath the sentiment sits genuine relief. If Ryn's coherent enough to be a Fucking Elf™ at him, then he's surely doing all right.]
Regardless, if you object, I'll take it back to the drawing board.
[Fucking Elf™ (affectionate). Playfully, he sings a few lines that clearly fit to complete the same melody that he'd left hanging before, but that are just as obviously making up new words as he goes.]
'Tis madness but it's true / I simply can't say no to you.
Really? I seem to recall you having rather a knack for it.
[But it's better, he thinks at length, to keep Ryn engaging with him like this — certainly better than just talking at him and hoping he's able to listen and hold on. If he can keep him responding, so much the better. It's that much more certainty that he's not getting lost.]
Name once you found it hard to say no to me. Go on, I'll wait.
[Realistically they've probably hit the ferry by now, so he just gets them onto the boat and into a seat, settling Ryn easily into his lap as he does. He's not letting go, after all.]
'Twouldn't hurt you to be sweet to me just once, you know. I'm certain you have it in you.
Well, under protest. Or when you can spare a moment from being so insufferably smug.
[He works free one of his hands, raking his fingers affectionately though Ryn's hair before catching hold of one of the tendrils and stroking down its length to the end.]
Though you did mumble something about not being able to see clearly without me, before. That was rather charming of you, I'll concede.
[oh, that's nice... his head tilts into the attention, the tentacle rubbing itself against thancred's hand a bit as he strokes down it, then curling around his fingers.]
...I didn't think this was something I would have again. Didn't consider it-- didn't really want to.
[mostly, he can concede, out of the fear of what would happen if he did.]
[Is he ever going to be over the way Rynlan's tentacles seem to have a mind of their own — and that the mind in question tends to be curious, gentle, even playful? Signs point to no.]
You don't have to consider it. You don't have to do anything but just what you are right now.
[He pulls him a little closer, like he's reminding him of the presence of his arm wrapped snug around him.]
Following my voice. Lying in my arms. Staying with me, right in the here and now.
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w6, sunday, post-execution
The thing is, this is just — it's just been a hell of a week on Ryn in one particular manner that Thancred really doesn't like. Injuries are one thing, of course, but all the mindfucking and perception-switching and personality-reversing and voidcalling has him more than a little worried. And sure, he's been doing his damnedest to field it as best he can, to roll with it and accommodate it and do his job keeping Rynlan safe, but at the end of the day he really just wants his elf back.
He's even waiting with a bribe. His gunbreaker coat is already off his shoulders, dangling instead from one hastily-bandaged hand.
It's warm, and carries his scent.]
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and when he finds him-
...he doesn't have it in him to take the coat and put it on fully, to pause long enough for that, but he does take it and clutch it close as he just lets himself fall right against thancred.
he'll catch and hold him. he always does.]
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There's something more important for him to do first, however, so he doesn't try to move them as yet. He lets Rynlan lean on him instead, holding him up and bearing the majority of his weight, and presses his lips against Ryn's head before nudging his mouth a little closer to one pointed ear.]
Tell me you're with me, isne ul. Follow the sound of my voice.
[Only, he leans a little too hard on one of the syllables without quite meaning to, so it comes out as "Follow the sound of my voice", instead. Telling, that.]
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[he catches that slight emphasis, and-- it always catches him off guard, this instinctive understanding thancred seems to have for what he needs. his arms wrap around him, holding on, as he murmurs a little desperately-]
Keep going.
[with his voice, he means. he can't handle quiet right now-- he'll only hear those whispers.]
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[They've already had him too much as it is. He nudges at Ryn just a little, prompting for him to let go of the coat so he can work on getting it around him instead.
Strange, how for just a fleeting moment, he finds himself recalling an old memory of Urianger — of his certainty in his spell for walking on water, of seeing him plunge into the depths, of his body already moving to chase after him almost before his mind had even caught up.
This feels like that all over again, somehow. Diving after Rynlan while the deep threatens to carry him away. Pushing air into his lungs. Swimming hard enough for both of them to get his head back above the surface once more.]
Get your arms through, darling, I'll carry you the rest of the way to the ferry.
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[he lets himself be nudged, threads his arms through the sleeves of thancred's coat and lets it drape easily around him.
better. much better.
rynlan isn't thinking of much right now, for his part-- that much is likely clear from the way he just nods a bit absently when thancred says he'll carry him, not even objecting and telling him to be careful.]
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[It's not particularly easy to bundle him up and support him both at the same time, but he manages well enough before ignoring the twinge of his protesting back and scooping Ryn up into a princess carry, adjusting the placement of his arms so that he can rest his head on Thancred's shoulder, and burrow against his neck if he likes.
Also, that keeps his own face close to Ryn's ears, and makes it easier to keep his slow steady stream of chatter present for him to cling to.]
I've been writing you a song, you know. Not like the one I sang for you at the beach. One that will make you smile, I think. I know much and more time has passed since then but I could never seem to find the words. You should see that notebook I carry around; I think half of it is just scribbles of notions and then some.
[It's not far to the ferry. He keeps murmuring as they go.]
But lately it's started to come together. Funny, isn't it? You said surfal and it's like the sky opened up overhead. And you call me your sun.
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[he rests his head on thancred's shoulder, taking the opening he's given, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. thancred has him, he knows, but forgive him for feeling clingy.]
...mm. You are my sun, though. Couldn't see things properly before.
[those words are murmured into his neck, the energy leaving him once he feels safe, adrenaline draining. for all that he prefers the shadow-- he needed the light, the warmth, in a way that he didn't fully realize until it was given to him.]
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I have been. Shall I sing you some of it? 'Tis unfinished as yet, of course, but.
[He sways them a little as he walks along, almost rocking Rynlan in his arms.]
It doesn't matter where you go or what you do / I want to spend each moment of the day with you / Well, look what has happened with just one kiss / Whoever knew that we could be in love like this? ...
[He trails off, humming the tune of the melody he's chosen, but not supplying any more words as yet.]
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whoever knew, indeed?
but what he murmurs aloud, whenever there's a break in the tune, is-]
I think it was a lot more than one.
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[It's exasperated on its face, but beneath the sentiment sits genuine relief. If Ryn's coherent enough to be a Fucking Elf™ at him, then he's surely doing all right.]
Regardless, if you object, I'll take it back to the drawing board.
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[he may keep it. rynlan curls a little closer, clearly satisfied with this.]
Hum it again.
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[He shakes his head, smiling faintly, and proceeds to hum the tune once more.]
Well? Do you like it?
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[but, after a few moments:]
...no one's ever written me a song before, Thancred.
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[#Romance]
'Tis not much of a song as it is, you know. Barely a ditty at best.
[He says as he glances away, carefully hiding his expression.]
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[he murmurs, worn down enough from everything that he just can't quite keep it from coming out.]
...finish it for me?
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[Fucking Elf™ (affectionate). Playfully, he sings a few lines that clearly fit to complete the same melody that he'd left hanging before, but that are just as obviously making up new words as he goes.]
'Tis madness but it's true / I simply can't say no to you.
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from thancred, from someone like him-- rynlan believes it, wholeheartedly.]
...difficult to say no to you too, you know.
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[But it's better, he thinks at length, to keep Ryn engaging with him like this — certainly better than just talking at him and hoping he's able to listen and hold on. If he can keep him responding, so much the better. It's that much more certainty that he's not getting lost.]
Name once you found it hard to say no to me. Go on, I'll wait.
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[his ears flick, with a little huff.]
And if I say no to that?
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[Realistically they've probably hit the ferry by now, so he just gets them onto the boat and into a seat, settling Ryn easily into his lap as he does. He's not letting go, after all.]
'Twouldn't hurt you to be sweet to me just once, you know. I'm certain you have it in you.
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[a little more amused, there. this is helping-- the back and forth, the way thancred can call him both lovely and stubborn and make it sound so fond.]
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[He works free one of his hands, raking his fingers affectionately though Ryn's hair before catching hold of one of the tendrils and stroking down its length to the end.]
Though you did mumble something about not being able to see clearly without me, before. That was rather charming of you, I'll concede.
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...I didn't think this was something I would have again. Didn't consider it-- didn't really want to.
[mostly, he can concede, out of the fear of what would happen if he did.]
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You don't have to consider it. You don't have to do anything but just what you are right now.
[He pulls him a little closer, like he's reminding him of the presence of his arm wrapped snug around him.]
Following my voice. Lying in my arms. Staying with me, right in the here and now.