maskormenacelogs | 004; until you pull too hard

Entry tags:

004; until you pull too hard

WHO: Woden~ & Eli~
WHERE: Some shady Woden-themed place in Heropa.
WHEN: Saturday~ish
WHAT: Eli finally tracks Woden down.
WARNINGS: Wic&Div spoilers, drugs, TBA

The misfortune (or fortune) of Eli Vanto is that he isn't stupid. In fact, when he puts his mind to things, as he was taught to do, he can get a lot done. Always more than Eli expects of himself; it shouldn't surprise him at this point but it still does.

The hazy memories belonging to Sleipnir had certain impressions to them that gave Eli a fair idea of where Woden could be found. The type of places he would prefer and the company he would keep. The picture is incomplete, gaps here and there that Eli sought to fill in.

Perhaps, from those he would be able to work out how to stop. The mind is a funny thing, something had clearly been amiss before Woden even got his hands on Eli, but now it spilt over everything.

Rationally, Eli knew he should not be here, but that knowledge was not enough to stop him. Infuriatingly as it was Eli still followed. Not unlike an addict seeking one last cigarette before quitting.

This place is not Eli's scene at all. He's visited some cantinas in the Outer Rim but this place is just blinding lights and smoke; the pounding bass of the music reverberating inside his ribs.

And he knows this is the right place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was the right place, just like Woden was exactly where was expected. The VIP booth was sequestered away from the rest of the club, high and above where Woden had the advantage of both watching over the rest of the the club's patrons, but also so he could keep an eye on things happening down below.

Just in case. Last time he'd been absorbed with things, he'd had Batman to deal with. He didn't want a repeat of that, after all.

By the time Eli got into the club, filled with twisting, throbbing bodies, Woden had already laid out multiple lines of coke, and had already imbibed a few. He was feeling...magnanimous, open. He leaned back in his couch, arms on the back, one ankle crossed over a lined and striped knee. He tipped his helmet, and made a motion both to send the ladies away, and invite in the man.

"Oh look!" he said, a slight slur to his digitized voice. "My trusty steed."

Rational thoughts didn't apply here, Eli feels — Sleipnir feels — happy. That was the simple explanation, it settles in the part of his mind capable of understanding that coming here was a bad decision.

Even so, Eli had to come.

He feels —

beneath a magnifying glass under the sun
standing by
suspended

— vulnerable.

But Eli had observed until invited forward, uncertain even as he stands in front. Somehow, he thought this would be easier, right now he stamps down the urge to roll over for Woden and offer his throat.

"...Hey." A quick glance at the white lines, "...Are you —? Seriously? Why?"

"Because?" he asked, like that was obvious. "I can? Would you like some?" he asked.

He looked down at the lines, at the obvious temptation to keep it going, numb things down, file the sharp edges until there was nothing left. He'd been doing more, lately, he always found that he found refuge in the stark white lines, whenever his thoughts went in dangerous angles and edges.

He gestured.

"You can sit, you know," he offered. The VIP booth's lights were low, the music a distant hum. The lights and spectacle downstairs muted itself up here. The sharpest indication was the curl of dry ice that drifted upwards, threatened to line the floor like there was an actual fire downstairs.

"Since you went through all this trouble, I assume you missed me. You don't look like you came just to club."

Edited 2018-01-09 07:12 (UTC)

“Don’t you need to take your helmet off for that?” Eli tilts his head in the direction of the table, curious as to what was beneath that mirrored surface — Eli didn’t find his own reflection on it unsettling. Though he assumes such is part of the intention: stand before a God and see yourself, not them. Theology is an unfamiliar area but he knows enough through social filters and books.

And Woden’s theatricality is doubly familiar as Eli sits, obediently on his left. He leans forward, a little bit like an eager child, resting his elbows on his knees. “I waited and I tried not to.” For all good it did him. “I used to have better self control.” His tone is wary but his body language betrays the feeling of familiarity and trust he’s tried so hard to stomp down.

Eli was tired of fighting it.

“Have you found a way to fix this?”

"Not yet, unfortunately," he said, and gestured, one hand on a knee, the other gestured toward Eli. "I'm afraid your problem is a little bit more complicated than what I'm used to solving. Normally, it's 'Woden, build a machine that might be used for a sacrifice', or 'Woden, make me a convention for our Pantheon', not... 'Woden, solve a real problem'."

The god leaned forward, then -- and his helmet, with the attachment over the mouth extended a proboscis.

"And, no, I don't need to take the helmet off," he explained, before he leaned forward, and took in the whole thing. There was no wiping of his nose, the way this worked. The helmet tipped to reflect Eli's face back at him.

"What is it you're looking for?" he finally asked, after a long moment of reflected light and Eli's face -- all dramatic pauses for anticipation.

Edited (I needed more) 2018-01-10 03:33 (UTC)

Eli gives a snort. "I'm glad that I count as a real problem then." He's not even a little bit curious about the machine for potential sacrifice. No, that's a lie.

Laughter just escapes and Eli should really stop and question just why this fact doesn't bother him as it should. "I can't believe you built a murder machine, because I'm sure you did, just to show you could." At least, this is Eli's assumption, from what he knows.

"Kriffin' hell. The whole thing?" Eli's surprised reflexion stared back. The question unsettles him. He wishes he could set his eyes on what was beneath the reflective surface, wonders if Sleipnir ever did — there is no recollection of that —

— just Woden's hands on his muzzle, his own reflection only this time it was a that of a horse more akin to a Lovecraftian monster than a horse.

Eli lifts one finger to point at Woden. "Obviously. Also, if I could stop feeling like I'm your thing that would be great."

Woden kept his gaze on him, unmovable, constant, a reflection of both the environment and Eli's face, before he slumped back, his arms over the back of the couch, while he hummed in satisfaction, the vocoder picked it up, to reflect a low, even tone. Like trying to imitate a human, when he was anything but.

"Of course the whole thing!" he finally said, and he tipped his helmet back, the slur thick in his voice. "Why the fuck would I buy it if I didn't intend to use it?" he asked, as if that should have been obvious, before he tempered himself, and shook his head.

"There's plenty more, if you want some later," he offered, before he settled in. "But I know. I don't want you to feel like a thing either. Self-actualization is important, isn't it? You should be your own problem."

Eli laughed, bared the line of his throat beneath the crisscross illumination of neon colours, and tried to find anything that distinguished his emotions from Sleipnir's. There are overlapping layers which extend further than anticipated; no anchor from where to start tracing boundaries.

He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry about this situation despite logically knowing he should.

"Can't argue there." Eli turns slightly, a finger running along the surface of the table where the white line had previously been. "But until you fix it, I guess I'm your problem."

"I guess so," he said.

Woden didn't feel like Eli should be his problem, but he also understood that if someone needed to be around him like this, this much, then there was something to be said, something that could be used later. Oh, he could string Eli along no problem, for ages. They would just have to start failing at solutions.

Woden looked up at the ceiling, and breathed in, his chest moved, even if the rest of him didn't look at all like there was a spark of humanity floating beneath the reflective mask.

"Not that I find that you awful company," he said, finally. Who hated being adored?

Edited 2018-01-12 04:06 (UTC)

Eli's gaze is drawn to Woden. From green lines to the rise and fall of his chest and mask; Eli is openly staring and is unaware of it, utterly fascinated by the aura of divinity.

Could he pry the helmet off? Would there be anything beneath it or just air? His fingers twitch. Eli won't go that far, he is waiting for a command. Sleipnir is waiting for it while they just sit here, content to be with their creator.

"Well, that's good." Eli seems to bask in that sliver of approval, "Since there is no way around this situation until you find it." Or Eli found it.

"I don't want to have to hunt you all over again."

"I wasn't that hard to find, was I?" he asked, helmet tipped toward him. Woden looked relaxed, at peace, completely at home in this environment. He looked like he belonged in here, all lights and like he lived in this environment.

"If you'd wanted to make it easier, you could have ask. The only time I've said no to you is when I'm home," he pointed out.

And, well, nobody knew where Woden lived. There was a distinct necessity in that, wasn't there? He looked over, and gestured toward Eli. "But I am working on it. This is...a psychology problem. I'm a tech guy. Two different fields."

Eli gives Woden a look but beneath it there is no tangible annoyance, almost as if Eli can't hold onto the emotion — it slips and only amusement is left. "You were certainly not easy but I didn't mind too much. Does it bother you that I was looking?

"I know you only said no about that but what if you had said no again?" Eli looks bothered by the potential outcome of that. It wasn't that he couldn't respect the 'no' — Eli could, but it wouldn't be easy.

He flaps a hand trying to hide, to not feel so raw and open for Woden to pick at his own leisure. "So should I go to a psychiatrist?"

"I don't know if they would do more than tell you to talk about the problem. Maybe give you a drug," he waved a hand. "It just means I need to understand you, understand where this is coming from, before I can fix it. Nobody else showed the same kind of... attachment that you did," he paused, and looked up at the ceiling.

Serious talks on cocaine were difficult, but he was used to them by now. "We need to know who you are, before we can find out why you want to be around me," he reached out, then, and waved his right hand with a slight shrug.

"And you should know, as long as I'm not... preoccupied, generally, the answer won't be no."

Eli's tone is soft, tinted with embarrassment at being a problem to Woden; for all he could pretend otherwise, it does unsettle Eli. Who wanted to be an issue for someone they wished to be near to?

Sliding along the booth until he's closer — enough to touch, but Eli makes no move towards that. He doesn't feel as touch starved lately, not since Thrawn had changed their dynamic and began taking the lead in this aspect.

"If I'm sitting with you I don't want to talk about myself. I'd rather hear you talk." There was an earnest interest to just sit and listen to Woden with the mechanical cadence, voice masked by the voice coder. Sleipnir had liked it and so did Eli.

"Well," he said, his tone low, the faint tinge of amusement tinted his tone. "I'm sure the people who are worried about you won't want to hear that. They want me to "fix" you, as if this is my fault," he said, and didn't move away.

Woden didn't prefer touch, that was clear. He touched nobody else, no gestures, no nothing. The mask, the clothing, it was all meant to hide him just as much as it was to separate him from the rest of the world. He tipped his helmet, so Eli could see himself, reflected back, the thudding music made the glass of his helmet shudder, the lights sent dizzying patterns to the ceiling and floor.

"I have been known to love the sound of my own voice, but I'm afraid I have little to describe, unless you want me to talk about how damaging it is that people are trying to self-actualize for you, and how that prevents you from being able to have your own agency."

As if Woden had no hand in the removal, thereof.

Eli is quite content at this distance, enough to be in Woden's orbit without touching. Sleipnir had enjoyed being petted but Eli is not an animal to be kept and stroked at random intervals. "Should they be worried about me being here? I don't think you're dangerous."

He stares his reflection, holding his breath while the deep bass reverberated within his ribs; the same tempo that made the glass dance. It is mesmerizing to watch with human eyes, the memory overlapping with Sleipnir's.

"They're concerned. I work for them. I belong to him." Eli isn't specific but he's surprised to hear of this. Deep down, he suspected but now there was confirmation.

"What, are you a slave?" he asked, his tone not-quite mocking, but it's very nearly there. "Human beings don't belong to anyone," he added, as if he needed to. The delightful irony -- it settled in the base of his stomach, the sting of his Truth tempered by the high coursing through his veins. He didn't feel nearly the same disgust with himself, when he could numb it all with drugs.

"They can be concerned all they want," he said, and leaned forward, closer. Give Eli a good look at himself in his helmet. Appraising.

"What do you think?"

"It's nothing like that." Eli felt his face heat up, anger sweeping through at such a comparison. He wasn't — but then, Thrawn had been particularly overbearing as of late, one step behind Eli, almost —

No, it's nothing like that. Eli isn't stupid enough to understand a power imbalance, at times he had challenged it. After Sleipnir, after feeling that complete tranquillity of belonging to someone, Eli had no longer wanted to. Maybe, it was more accurate to say he couldn't. Whenever Eli said those things I belong to him, they are a very specific him and it's not —

Eli stares at his reflection, whatever he sees is unwelcome, he looks lost and unsettled; irked —

"About this? It's inconvenient. I don't dislike you but how much is that me and how much is the remainder of Sleipnir?"

"That's what we need to find out," he said, and the warped reflection leaned back, again. Not disgusted, but less in his presence, less like he needed to impose himself onto Eli, especially now that he was certain his point had been made. There could have almost been a smile there, if the god had a real face to show the world.

"I understand. It's inconvenient for me too -- I have a life," drugs to do, self-loathing to indulge in, women to watch... All very important.

"Do you think, if we numbed those memories, would it be nearly as bad? Is it the memories that drive you? Or is it your loyalties?"

Intentionally or not, Eli feels malleable beneath Woden's words; a little pull here or there — rearranging, meticulously testing out the limits.

There is a glimmer of guilt; like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar; breaking curfew; refusing to do his homework as asked. Eli fidgets with his hands, shakes his head. "Sorry.

"The memories make a person, right? I assume that they are the cause, yes. If I didn't have those then there would be no reason for me to feel loyal to you." He bites his lip, mouth dry; there is hope that everything can go back as to what it was before.

"If you were in my position, what would you do?" Eli is earnestly asking for advice. If a mortal can't find an answer, surely a God can.

"If I found myself attached and needing the approval and attention of another being? If I were dependent on someone else?"

Woden tipped his head up, as if he were thinking.

In all reality, of course, he already knew the answer. He would find a way to make it work for him, control it, manipulate the cards so that he would be able to do what he wanted and not what was needed by the other. He would make sure that they were under his thumb, under his purview.

His fingers danced against the back of the couch, as if he were thinking.

"I think...that I would find a way to make something more important. Or embrace it, if I didn't mind it."

"Make something more important." Eli mouths the words in thought, lets them sink in and his gaze sharpens. "Or embrace it." Technically, Eli could do that — embrace it, but then Thrawn's words, heavy and binding: Just mine. I won't share you.; enough to make Eli's face feel warm again.

Maybe, if he could just —

"I will upset someone important to me if I did embrace it." Eli would've chosen that path, Woden didn't seem so bad to him after all. Meaning: he didn't mind this too much. Sleipnir's being was not antithetical to his nature.

"You can mute the memories, right? With your powers?"

"I'm certainly going to make an attempt. I think I can swing it," he said, with a vague gesture.

Woden knew he could, given the nature of his powers. That was never the struggle. Simply taking away the memories was easy, it would require something simple, a bracelet, a little whisper of his power sent with a soft, gentle whisper. It would be a small thing, not even a drain on his power, but...

He liked that Eli was under his thumb. He missed having someone to cajole, to control. He missed sitting down in his lab, and spilling his secrets, his thoughts for the day, what he was going through.

The lack of a confidante made the weight of his thoughts all the more unbearable. He'd enjoyed the prospect, if he'd just had a little more time.

"You should focus on those that are important to you," he said, instead. "Although, I won't lie... I'll miss your company."

I'll miss your company. Simple, yet precise. Eli feels the warmth increase and rubs the back of his neck. "I'll miss yours as well." Painfully sincere; Eli wasn't young in age but there was a streak of something bright, and hopeful that highlighted some of his words. Statements which came out painfully earnest, as if Eli meant every word.

"Feeling like this without true memories is weird, but I don't mind your company at all. You seem to know a lot and have a lot to teach." Eli has always been interested in those who had things to teach him; he was an eager student.

"I know a great deal," he admitted. "Perhaps more than most give me credit for. Few are willing to look past the veneer and see what I have underneath," he paused, and his helmet tipped, giving Eli the impression that he was indeed looking directly at him.

"But that's their problem. Not mine. People like you, that are willing to listen are ones I'm far more interested in, I won't lie."

"I like to listen." Eli had found that listening was the best way to learn — about the other person as well as himself. And he does find Woden interesting, with or without Sleipnir involved; it's naive and well-meaning curiosity.

"Though I'm not actually very interesting myself, that's why I like to do so." Self-deprecating to the end.

Eli glances down at the crowd below, "Do you ever go there? Or is being here all you want?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

004; until you pull too hard

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject