towerofanimus | A couple promised closed (or semi-closed) logs

Entry tags:

A couple promised closed (or semi-closed) logs

Characters: Enoch and Lucifel, and anyone who would visit his room too. Just let me know! Also, Enoch and Lancer.
Setting: Dorm 3-18 backdated to November 1st, Floor 62 backdated to December 1st
Format: I'll match!
Summary: Enoch has had something very unpleasant happen to him as a punishment for too many failed riddles. That is an understatement. Also, he and Lancer agreed to a sparring match.
Warnings: Talk of being flayed may happen if you press for information. (If this is one of your listed squicks I'll actively avoid it coming up), maybe blood or broken limbs in the sparring match? There is a tangent involving sexual discussion.

Dorm 3-18, November 1st

He woke with a scream.

Or tried to. In his sleep paralysis it was only a choked sound as he stared at the ceiling wide-eyed. Unable to move or speak, all he had was the nightmare he'd just lived, punctuated by Eleven's shrill screaming. All he had was that he was not in pain. Parts of him were still numb from revival, but he was not in pain.

An involuntary, low, distressed moan was what told him he could move again. Shaking and pale, he pushed himself up. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his gaze was unfocused, glazed-over. He raised a hand, still numb and tingling, and pressed it to his own chest. With something between a laugh and a sob, he curled up on himself, a tight human ball on the bed.

Unlike the time that had given him such an adverse reaction, there was nothing driving him to keep going. Only the horror of what had happened.

Floor 62, December 1st

The beach had always been a calming place for him. That is, until his return to Meridian. As he waited for Lancer, he watched the waves, arms folded as his thoughts wandered. Mostly, they wandered to Armaros, and their time in Meridian. Time spent there, he on a large dune watching as Armaros swam.

And now, he was here. Torn apart. In so much pain he could only blame him.

A nautilus shell washed up against his foot. He bent down to pick it up, idly playing with it as he waited for Lancer, stewing in his own thoughts.

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"Oh. Why are they separated? That doesn't make any sense..."

To be fair, it wouldn't make any sense to him sober either.

"How would I know that...? You, you humans made it up."

And this is something he would usually have an answer to but can't think of.

"Humans in the future made it up," Enoch corrects, tugging on one of the pillows under Lucifel's head to try to get it for himself, now that he didn't need it to prop himself up to drink. "They're strange, aren't they?"

"It's still humans." He added quickly and lifted his head a little so Enoch could grab the pillow. "Nah... they're interesting... and strange." To him at least.

"But, from all humans, I like you best, Enoch."

Yes, having a pillow under his head was much more comfortable. Enoch smiled at him, obviously flattered.

"Because we're friends?"

He had every reason to feel flattered. Lucifel hardly said something like that to anyone.

"There's... there's no word stronger than friend, is there?"

Enoch is quiet for a long time as he thinks about this. Finally, he says, "I don't know. Is there?"

Which, certainly, doesn't really help the conversation.

"I... I don't know, that's why I ask." He couldn't recall if there was one in any language.

Fumbling with the scribe's hair seemed really interesting as well.

Why was he playing with his hair? Oh well. It felt nice.

"Well I don't know, either...I suppose we need to make up a word."

It was entertaining, so he continued doing so. He would be upset to find any split-ends though. For whatever reason.

"Mm, sounds good..."

Lucifel would be sorely disappointed. Enoch's hair had split ends just about everywhere. It's why it never grew.

"Friend should be the base, but...hm...how do we give it more meaning? Why don't you try to describe what you feel?"

Yeah, that did disappoint him. Just a little. At the moment he was a little distracted.

"Oh... 'm feeling happy..." Actually, now that he was actually trying to think harder... "Enoch... Enoch, I remembered something."

Happy...happy and friend. Was there a way to make that work? Lucifel's fingers in his hair were making him sleepy, though. Or maybe that was the wine. Maybe both.

"What did you remember?"

Perhaps there was, but it might not sound as good as they would think right now. Before he'd get depressive from staring at the blond-haired man's split-ends Lucifel stopped to fumble with his hair.

"Some humans made up a word for... really... really..." He yawned. "Really... close friends... they called it... bromance... or something."

The yawn was contagious. Enoch yawned a moment later, curling up against him a little (once again, like he was a giant teddy bear).

"Bromance..." he tried the word. "...But...but we aren't brothers."

Staying awake suddenly seemed like a hard thing to do. He's blaming the wine. And feeling strangely warm and comfortable.

"That's not, not important at all, just, stressing it. Two guys being very close friends..."

"Close like brothers but not brothers? But we're not like brothers, Lucifel, you and Michael are. Because you are brothers."

He seemed to realize, for an instant, how stupid that sounded, and chuckled a little.

It did sound stupid, stupid enough to have Lucifel laugh with him again. However, his laughter soon ceased and he closed his eyes.

"'m... voting for a sleepover..."

At least that was something he didn't really have to ask about. "Good idea..." He settled against Lucifel and dragged his pillow with him so he wasn't only resting half on it. "Comfortable, like this..."

Sure, they were both liable to have nightmares, but then, maybe they wouldn't. At least, like this, he could fall asleep happy and content.

Never mind the hangover they'd be nursing the next day.

Hangover was a good point. The archangel slowly opened his eyes, not fully awake as of yet and growled to himself. His head was throbbing and this is certainly a first that he could have left out.

However, once he was fully wake his eyes went wide, realizing that Enoch was sleeping in his arms. Well, that they were holding each other.

What had happened. And why was he missing his shirt.

For a moment longer, Enoch was peaceful. Even if he was drooling a little on Lucifel's chest. And then he woke up.

Eleven's screaming was more like a piercing screech with his headache, and he groaned, burying his head against Lucifel's neck in protest. Not that he was completely aware of who it was next to him or anything, with the way his senses were screaming at him. This had been just as bad an idea when he'd inadvertently started that party, and it hadn't gotten any better.

Once the headache went away, he'd consider the respite worth it. As it was now, though, he stubbornly refused to look at the light or leave what little warmth and comfort was left of their drinking that morning. Or the morning before. He didn't know what day it was.

Yeah, he felt the drool right there and it wasn't much of a pleasant feeling.

Lucifel wasn't moving at all. Actually, he was feeling rather tense at this moment and tried hard to remember what happened exactly before they ended up like this. And against this hangover of his.

At least one of them didn't seem too worried about any of this.

One of them had drunk too much before.

With another pained groan, he attempted to get up, though he didn't get very far, squinting against the light in the room.

One of them drunk too much for the first time. And at the moment he would be happy to remember what had happened. Wine couldn't make one THAT drunk... right?

Lucifel looked at the scribe then. "... Enoch..."

With his body weight and the amount he'd had? Sure, why not.

"Mm?" Enoch looked down at him, obviously trying to recall what had happened before, as well.

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