victory_road | This road is going nowhere [Closed]

Entry tags:

This road is going nowhere [Closed]

Who: Dirk Strider and Hythlodaeus.... Emet-Selch shows up around comment #80
Where: Goldenrod, XIVhaus Garden
When: August 15th shhh this is forward dated
Summary: Can't believe Dirk is the one cornering someone else for acting weird for once tbh
Rating: PG except for swears? [EDIT] ....convo got nsfw around comment #70

Hours after Dirk finally slept (and then woke up again) while Emet did not, Emet himself falls asleep (the natural way) and Dirk is left... free. Free to wander the house on his own. Free to track down some answers. Or rather, to lie in wait for the source of his questions and then ambush him for said answers.

Hythlodaeus has generously yielded all the clues he needs to establish the location; a sad, dead excuse for a withered 'garden,' comprised though it is of a single dead tree and an open sky, with sunlight streaming from overhead and soft, gently buzzing fuzzbugs by the dozens. No special preparations are required for this--though he does take the time to let Salome out of her Pokeball to circle the sky overhead, it's for his convenience and not out of any desire to threaten the eight-foot neurotic with a jealous magical bird. (In fact, it's for the lack of that desire that he sends her spiralling up and out of human line of sight.)

Then, he just has to wait.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whatever Hythlodaeus is about to say is cut off by the sound of Tropius K.O.ing 126 cutiefly simultaneously. Hythlodaeus' jaw drops as he pats himself down for Tropius' Pokéball. Which is thankfully actually on his person. He recalls his fainted Tropius, and just regards the adorable carnage for a moment.

"... I don't believe we have enough grocery bags. Strip the bedding of the pillow cases, would you?"

Edited 2020-08-28 06:29 (UTC)

Hades stops in his tracks when he hears the impact of the Pokémon, and then he stares on in disbelief as he sees Tropius smash into the garden—and apparently 126 Cutiefly. What a pitiful cacophony of cries.

Then Dirk walks in. Hades knows not what to even do at the moment he is struck with such utter disbelief. So, instead of doing as Hythlodaeus asks, he merely looks at Dirk, his expression otherwise blank if not for how tired it looks.

Then, he walks to the table. Takes a seat. Rests his elbows on the table, and braces his forehead against his hands.

He needs a moment.

Edited 2020-08-28 06:34 (UTC)

There really was no 'good' version of this scene to enter, and no 'good' way to enter it.

Knowing this does not make Dirk feel better about walking into it, nor does it make him any less hyper-aware of himself while he does so. This isn't his fucking fault. Absolutely no part of the past handful of nightmare minutes was premeditated or authorised by him in any way. Considering the circumstances, in fact, he was more than within his rights to take a rolling dive off Banania's back and onto the roof, and he broke not a single clay shingle in the process.

On the other hand, Emet very explicitly demanded peace and the cascading series of disasters he just took part in also took biggest, smelliest possible shit on that he objectively could have. Flipping the breakfast table and calling Hythlodaeus the vilest slurs he knew could have done less damage.

And he knows some real hair-curling invectives, so that wouldn't have been for lack of trying.

So he does not do as Hythlodaeus requests, does not go searching for pillowcases to strip from the beds. No, instead he walks--one of the more excruciatingly long short-distance walks in his life, though nowhere near the longest--past the garden and to the table where Emet is seated, head placed directly against his hands, clearly in the silent throes of a final breakdown of patience and goodwill.

"Sorry. It's going to be tough, what with the way knives around here dull instantly, but I don't see any way around it. You're going to have to cut my head off."

Hythlodaeus sighs as he walks towards the bedroom to get a sheet, overhearing Dirk in the process of course. The corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk.

He walks over the to the knife block and pulls out the cleaver.

"Luckily for you, I don't tolerate poorly made materials." He spins the cleaver to catch it by the flat of the blade and offers it to Hades.

"Should only take three passes, maybe two with Hades' shoulders. One if you're lucky!"

Edited 2020-08-29 03:20 (UTC)

Hades barely gets the chance to fully process what Dirk's said before Hythlodaeus is offering him a knife, and his own commentary. Really, what is even going on? Did he leave and come back to some distorted version of the world he was already trapped within?

It's...ridiculous. Utterly. Completely. Thoroughly.

Yet, this absurdity as he regards the cleaver in his hand, his eyes trailing along its blade as his expression wears his bafflement for both to behold, tickles his brain just right or something. Because after a moment, he laughs. Bringing his free hand to cover his mouth as he does so, shaking with laughter. It's...not entirely humorless, in fact, there's something genuine to it, but it is tired.

Placing the cleaver down on the table, as he shakes his head and looks between Dirk and Hythlodaeus, there's something grateful about his expression. For all the chaos that has happened within the span of minutes, their fatuity complement each other so well, that it nearly makes up for the tension ere all of this.

Makes him...appreciate their presence all the more, even if they were driving him to the edge of sanity.

"...Little do I think making more of a mess will help aught, but I do so appreciate the offer, and your assistance Hythlodaeus. I am afraid I will have to decline, perhaps joining me properly will have to do." He says pleasantly enough, before looking to Hythlodaeus. "How are your vilekin? Do they need immediate attention? These beasts are rather resilient, and I would hate for our food to get cold."

Honestly, he knows they can't die. Knows they'll probably be fine, and he just wants to enjoy a meal with the two of them and not worry about those chaotic beasts for a few minutes.

Edited 2020-08-29 04:09 (UTC)

When Emet first starts laughing, it's not clear if Dirk's just solved everything (again) or if he's about to find out just how much damage a blunted blade can do his neck.

"Damn," Dirk deadpans, faking only a little disappointment for it.

"Well, if you're sure."

His subsequent glance towards Hythlodaeus comes with a slight turn of his head just to make it more externally evident, at which point he shrugs helplessly.

Which would have been fine, really. Dirk would have filed this incident away as one more reason to rip himself to fucking shreds at night, when he needs a little something extra. But then Emet says something more, and--uh.

What?

What the fuck does that mean. Vilekin?

Obviously Dirk can guess what Emet's referring to based on context, but he's literally never heard either of them use that term before. God. Fuck.

Hythlodaeus can't see it, but Dirk's stare... were it only possible for him to push Hythlodaeus through the narrative in this moment.

Say they're fine. Please just say they're fine. Say they're fucking fine. C'mon. Say it.

"Well, there's nothing broken. No blood or any such. They're all unconscious, of course..."

It was a normal enough thing in this world for these creatures to be unconscious for quite a while at a time, wasn't it?

"... I suppose I could go to the corner store for revives rather than transporting all of them. It should only take me a few minutes." He turns to Dirk.

"...Though it may be a bit more than I have on me."

.... is that all.

Dirk pulls out his Gear wordlessly. In a short couple of minutes, Hythlodaeus's Gear notifies him of a transfer for P210,000... which is to say, every cent Dirk earned against the Elite Four.

Then he pockets his own Gear again.

"Done."

Hythlodaeus' poker face would be more impressive if he had a true concept of what earning money around here is like, or what things that aren't inexpensive cotton clothes or cups of tea at the café cost.

"Ah, this should certainly cover the expense. Thank you, Dirk," he gives him a smile slight enough to be genuine. "I'll hurry back before it gets cold."

And with a quick shuffling of his sandals onto his feet, he ducks out into the world. The shop is thankfully just down the street, an inconsequential distance, especially for a man with his stride. He may purchase their entire stock, but he isn't too worried about that.

As that exchange happened, Hades was content in merely watching the two interact...peacefully. Honestly, it was like night and day, and he could not be more glad for it. Watching as Hythlodaeus leaves, his eyes flick over to Dirk as he gives him a soft and curious smile.

"Come, have a seat." He says as he gestures to the chair besides him, where a plate is set. "Though, I cannot help but wonder: how much did you bequeath him with? Awful kind of you, really."

"Not really," Dirk doesn't deflect this time so much as straight up deny any good on his part. He sits down, at least; his feet hurt, his shoulder hurts, and what he's politely going to refer to as his ass already hurt before this. He rests an elbow on the table impolitely, putting his weight on it to take it off any part of his body that's sore or else somewhat burnt.

"This was basically my fault, whether or not it was on purpose. So I just sent him my winnings from the Elite Four."

While not an amount, Hades' expression is one of surprise all the same. If he remembered correctly, that was...a lot of money. Far more than one might need for the measure of revives he'd need for his creatures.

"...That is quite a sum of money, is it not?" There's clear disbelief in his tone, but he doesn't seem upset or anything. As he's looking Dirk over, he does notice at least a little bit of redness to his shoulder, and how he's leaning quite a bit on his elbow. Perhaps he'll wait a moment to ask about it.

In the meantime, he'll busy himself with serving Dirk some of the breakfast that Hythlodaeus has prepared for them, though keeping an eye on him all the same.

Edited 2020-08-29 05:40 (UTC)

....is it really that surprising?

"Two-hundred and ten thousand," Dirk confirms.

Sure, it's more than necessary. It could even be called excessive. Maybe. Depending on who you are.

But--

"I mean, it would have been pretty inappropriate to calculate the needed sum to the penny and send exactly that." He frowns.

That makes Hades pause before placing the slice he's cut for Dirk onto his plate. Staring at him a little owlishly as he blinks in the selfsame manner. But then he picks back up where he left off, plating the piece and then busying himself a moment with pouring Dirk a glass of the grapefruit juice.

"Nay, you are not wrong. You need not be stingy in such a manner, however..." he pours himself a glass as well, picking it up once he places the pitcher back down. Settling his gaze at Dirk as he takes a drink. The act almost like a punctuation for his thinking.

As he pulls the glass away, swallowing, he opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Squints for a moment. Then smiles affectionately.

"It does seem a touch excessive. There is such a thing as being too generous, but little do I want you to think I'm criticizing you. More...Hythlodaeus is not quite skilled with handling money. But it is no matter, I will handle it once he returns. You have my gratitude all the same, my dear."

Edited 2020-08-29 06:02 (UTC)

Oh.

Fine. Okay. Maybe it was 'excessive.'

Emet can keep going as smoothly as he likes, that pause was still noticed. The dramatic bit with the glass was definitely overkill.

"I don't exactly pay rent," Dirk sighs, knowing full well he risks now sounding indifferent to the damages. He isn't mad about the performance or the platitude, it's just... okay, maybe he feels like that was its own kind of excess.

His mouth tightens into a grim line.

"Might as well make it a point to demonstrate my sincerity."

If the amount he sent Hythlodaeus was about sincerity, the expression on his face is one of seriousness. He's fucking trying, all right?

He certainly catches that. How couldn't he? Dirk is subtle, but Hades is observant. That grim line that his mouth forms would be telling enough on its own. As such, Hades offers him his own apologetic frown, but so too does he reach for Dirk's hand, slipping his hand into his if he'd tolerate it.

"Well, your sincerity is ever appreciated, truly, pray do not think otherwise. Mayhap it was uncouth of me to air my concern, forgive me. I suppose I may be a little off from...well, everything."

He does really appreciate Dirk trying, and he does not wish to diminish his efforts. However, he also doesn't want Dirk to be taken advantage of in his attempts, either.

At the shop, the clerk decides to sell him unopened flats from the back. Even with the absurd quantity, Hythlodaeus can’t help but notice that the total is far, far less than the amount sent. He somehow doubted that he only accidentally sent those two extra zeroes.

...Was this a true hearted apology? Done without pomp or parade.

He smiles at it before he loads himself up and maneuvers very carefully out of the shop.

He wasn’t kidding about how quick it would be, even with the absurd quantity. With five boxes stacked on top of one another and needing to stoop over just to enter, he is the picture of absurdity. He sets down the enormous haul in the plain view of the kitchen and whistles.

Twenty or so yamask wake from their slumber, pulling their masks off the walls and lining up. He explains their task in quick, efficient sign. They sign back in unison before they get to it. It is adorable. Hythlodaeus releases a breath as he rejoins his companions.

“There’s quite a bit of change,” he starts. “I’ve never sent currency before... where might I find the option?”

Edited 2020-08-29 07:54 (UTC)

It's a surprise when Emet reaches for his hand, but Dirk suspects that the gesture might be as much for Emet's benefit as his own. He doesn't reject it, closing his calloused hand over the warm, soft glove fabric with Emet's inside.

"Whatever. Don't worry about it."

He only removes it when the door opens, and he sits back just in time to watch the score or more of masks that he had kind of hoped were decorative prove themselves anything but.

'Adorable' is not the word he would have used to describe the affair.

"Nowhere," he tells Hythlodaeus when that elaborate procedure is over. "Keep it. Convert it all to pennies and make yourself a sick bed out of it. Commission a sculpture, buy out every ticket at a sports event. Spend it all on eggs and make the biggest sfougato breakfast this world has ever seen. Whatever gets you hard, it's yours."

The lack of an immediate draw back from Hades' hand is a small comfort, especially feeling his hand close around his. It's almost comical when one thinks about it, really. Sardonic, moody, condescending Hades openly showing care and concern for someone like this. Then again, most the people who had proven themselves worthy of his affection often times were the ones smothering him, while Dirk requires the proper kind of coaxing and show of affection.

Really, Dirk draws out his more nurturing and affectionate side just with how he is.

He's about to contest the notion of not worrying about it, but then Hythlodaeus comes in. Dirk pulls his hand away. The platoon of Yamask set off to work, and the moment is lost. Silently he watches Hythlodaeus and Dirk interact, settling in his seat and taking to his juice to keep himself busy as he mulls over the interaction prior, relieved that Hythlodaeus intended to return the unused amount—but he nearly chokes on his drink when Dirk starts making suggestions for what to do with the money.

Partially because it's all rather absurd and humor in that regard, but also because Hythlodaeus might very well do exactly that. Of course, the comment about 'whatever gets you hard' does little to help the situation, either! Roughly swallowing his drink down in lieu of spitting it on Dirk, he raises his eyebrows as he looks between the both of them with bewildered amusement.

"Or, perchance, we could come up with a far more practical use for it." Really, he hopes Hythlodaeus will let that ending comment from Dirk go, but he knows he is not one to be so lucky.

Hythlodaeus covers his laugh in that familiar way, so taken with surprise by all of that.

“Ever am I community minded. To allocate a large sum of resources should be agreed upon, should it not?”

A wry smirk spreads on his face as he chuckles against his curled fingers. “But to combine a couple suggestions as well as ensure that this is an investment... I understand there are no clubs that cater to our tastes, yet there is still demand. A growing demand, as far as I can tell.”

Again his gaze goes between Hythlodaeus and Dirk, but before Dirk can speak up (if he even would at that suggestion), Hades chooses to. Really, it's not a terrible idea, and he's considered the prospect a few times, but after his conversation with Hythlodaeus about such matters...he worries that he's meaning something far more, ah, niche than lucrative.

"If I may..." he begins, glancing once more between the two, settling on Hythlodaeus. "Indeed, there are no clubs that cater to men of our tastes, and while what you say in its growing demand is also true, I do think we ought to go for a more general appeal, than aught more specific. You have spoken to me about a lack of acceptable establishments to sate your appetites, but I think erecting a business with this purely in mind would be a fool's errand."

Now, he glances to Dirk with a smile, choosing to illuminate what they're meaning with the shrowding of vagueness not serving any purpose toward such.

"What I mean to say is thus: putting forth money into making a 'gentleman's club' so to speak is not a poor endeavor to follow, but aught more specific in service than that would more likely spurn would be clientele than attract, would you not agree?"

Emet may not realise it, but the discrepancy in the roles he plays in his relationships with Dirk and Hythlodaeus--affectionate or stoic, moody or comforting, seeking or reluctant--has been reassuring to Dirk.

The disparity is to him like a promise kept. Real, solid proof that he has no one in competition, direct or otherwise, no threat of Hythlodaeus taking his (rightful) place. That it bridges the gap between his own expected performance and Emet's specific position relative to his is an easement of its own. To be sought, solicited, reached out for...

Back in the present, he levels Emet with a nonplussed stare for the somewhat dramatic reaction to his relatively mild tangent, an undignified sputtering or extremely unnecessary citrus shower narrowly averted. But he doesn't trust himself to have followed Hythlodaeus' logic, nor his.... what was that, even? A proposal of some kind, obviously, but what the fresh hell for?

He sits, stiff-backed, expression immobile as Hythlodaeus proffers and Emet explains, but the consequences of clarity are the a bit steep, considering the day he's been having.

And truthfully, Dirk cannot think of anything he'd like to do less than co-own a business with Hythlodaeus.

"It's your money," he says again. His deadpan is impeccable.

Then, after a long sip of grapefruit juice, he adds, "I thought you wanted to eat breakfast."

"That it is, and that I do."

Hythlodaeus gives a soft little smile of acknowledgement before taking his seat. He tucks right into his food, realizing suddenly that this has left him ravenous.

He doesn't drop his manners or quicken his pace; his languid movements serve to feed him all the same. One his swallow, he speaks to the thoughts floating around in his head.

"Then it is simple enough to add an antechamber. The mystique will surely bolster what interest is already there. I have been told that there is no "gay scene" to compete with, and we know well what happens to beasts without competition," he says with exaggerated air quotes.

Like Hythlodaeus, Dirk's reminder of breakfast serves as a cue to do just that. Here he had been so worried about having breakfast with the two of them, and then everything else had distracted him. And so, he begins on his own plate. Mulling over Dirk's response, but so too Hythlodaeus' wish to include Dirk in this venture that he clearly has no interest in.

Well, not yet anyway.

As Hythlodaeus picks up the conversation again, Hades glances at him with an appraising look, an eyebrow quirking at the suggestion of an antechamber, but then he goes on to speak of this 'gay scene'. Hades is an intelligent man, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out the meaning through the context of the conversation, however the word does catch him all the same.

"Really, is that what the term they choose for us? How interesting." He means it too, primarily because it almost seems a little random by his measure. Really, it makes him wonder the terms they use for the other sexualities, but that's hardly the point of the conversation. His mind is rarely idle, however.

"Nevertheless, there are far better conversations to have over breakfast. Especially when not all parties are particularly interested in the topic." He says, glancing at Dirk with a sympathetic smile. He got the cue, loud and clear. It's obvious Hythlodaeus did not.

Edited 2020-08-30 08:38 (UTC)

Once both Hythlodaeus and Emet are both actually eating, Dirk finally takes up a fork of his own--and just in time, as it turns out, because Hythlodaeus doesn't know when to quit.

The sfougato is, thankfully, still warm.

He has a full mouth when Emet asks the most unwelcome question possible, and it spares everyone whatever irritable noise of would have come out of him immediately otherwise.

"Call me gay and see what happens."

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