lostcarnival | Chill Out [Closed]

"Uh... okay."

Well. Taako can't say exactly what it was he was expecting from the trailer Foster inhabits, but this is definitely not it. Maybe he was expecting more chaos-- maybe some broken things, or trash on the floor, but that isn't there. There's just... nothing. It's totally empty, as if no one's lived there, except for the dishevelled, blood-stained sheets of Foster's own bed.

Taako goes over to the clean, empty bed, and he sits on its edge, crossing his legs and setting the Umbra Staff aside.

"... so, I'm gonna be really real with you here for a second, homie: I don't really get why you invited me back here. Do you, uh, have something you want to talk to me about, or what...?"

Yes.

Yes, Foster has multiple things he wants to talk to Taako about.

But--

"Hahahaha...!"

Laughter is (not?) appropriate here, but it comes out anyway, and he can't bring himself together enough to speak over it. It's all in pieces right now--impulses, ideas, intentions. He's disjointed. Distorted. It's packed tight, and it's hollow.

"I don't... remember. Did I... always have this headache before?"

... headache...? Taako has absolutely no idea-- he doesn't remember Foster mentioning it before, not that they often chatted idly about the state of his head beyond "why are you yelling at me this time."

"... I mean, you never complained about it or anything, but, uh, I'm not in there with you, my man, so I don't know." He secretly wonders if it could have something to do with the brainrot, but he's pretty sure he heard somewhere that you don't actually feel pain in there, weirdly enough, so he has no idea. He's not a surgeon or anything, he's a wizard and a chef.

After a beat, however, Taako does admit, "I've... actually been having some headaches too, lately, though... maybe something happened to us on the way back from Portland."

"........mmmm."

Foster's pensive sound is, as always, ambiguously judgmental.

But he doesn't elaborate on it. Not yet.

It's probably obvious why his bedclothes are streaked and spotted with blood. He hasn't been back--and ambulatory--long enough to get up to too much yet, but the wound he took from the ice spike wasn't minor.

It might seem strange to complain about a headache and not, you know, the giant bloody trauma site over his ribs. But normally, pain is a welcome sensation in his world. It's filter, a focus, a physical sense of freedom--and the poorly-healing avulsion does all of that. But this persistent, dull headache is doing the exact opposite.

He just... wants to beat his head with something, to slam his skull and its rotted contents against the wall over and over and over, whatever it takes to stop thinking.

Which makes his sudden, cheery response a bit deceiving.

"Well! You can always just cut it off." He pulls his arm off his eyes with a quiet groan, but he's already distracted with thoughts (fantasies?) of decapitation.

They afford at least a little relief.

"Oh, yeah, I mean, sure, that'd help!" Taako's response is equally as inappropriately chipper, an odd smirk on his face. "Lemme get right on that. Hey, that reminds me, though: uh, why haven't you... done anything about, you know, that hole in your side? I mean... that's gotta hurt, right?"

He saw when it happened, of course, during the ritual; he'd been paying as close attention to Foster's actions as he could, given all the chaos that was breaking out around them. Garyl had nearly wound up with the same fate multiple times, as had Taako himself-- it's honestly kind of a miracle that he survived that at all, much less with only a broken ribcage and collar bone to speak of.

Okay, so those were pretty severe injuries, but the carnival had magic on its side, and they'd turned out to be nothing a little magic couldn't fix.

Foster grins a bit sharply, his predator's teeth flashing briefly as he enjoys the mental image, maybe too much--whether it's his own decapitation or just Taako's joke is up to interpretation.

"Why would I?" Foster asks. "I should be grateful. I am grateful--but I could have suffered more, I should suffer more!" His eyes are open now, and he's even making eye contact--so good job, Taako.

But are you sure this is the conversation you want to have?

"... yyyeah, okay, that's cool, but like, you're gonna get some weird infection and die and then the Ringmaster's gonna be angry and probably take it out on us." Taako is not really in the mood to entertain Foster's strangeness for long today; or ever, really. He lightly swings the long leg he's crossed over on top, and he leans in, as though Foster were right in front of him instead of across the room on a different bed entirely. "Besides, we have a plan to stick to, remember? Uh, then again, I guess it's kinda fair if you fuck up my plan after I fucked up yours, so, uh... maybe that's not the best way to approach this, huh."

Taako's logical digression earns a laugh from Foster--an actual genuine laugh, that is. He's also laughing at the idea of the Ring Master's anger, honestly. The suggestion that he get his wound treated, though--

"Since when do you care what the Ringmaster thinks?" It's a bit caustic, but not in ill-spirit, and he shifts tone abruptly after--he actually sits partway up, his claws grazing the edge of the wound as he does.

"Let it get infected. Make it ugly and painful as it reopens over and over! I want it to hurt, to punish me. I need it to weep and fester and worsen and bleed!" He finishes with teeth bared, claws curling to pierce the sheets.

"You've got me there," Taako admits with a laugh-- and then, suddenly, Foster is kind of raving about violence, and bleeding, and...

... wow, alright.

Taako rests his chin in his hand, staring at Foster with an unusually focused look, groomed brow furrowed as he watches, quietly, until he's finished his violent monologue. It's only then that he speaks up, picks up his head and points at Foster with the hand he was previously balancing his chin in.

"So is this, like, a sex thing? Because I totally get that, but, like, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to shame you a little bit on that one because, uh..." He pauses, clicking his tongue. "... actually, you're fuckin' suicidal, so I guess you don't actually care if this shit kills you."

He straightens up, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nevermind then, I guess."

Foster almost laughs again, honestly.

Okay, he does laugh.

But only a little. Then he simply looks nonplussed. This is not even close to the first time he's been asked that question, and he's noticeably unoffended, but--

"Sometimes." He admits maybe a littlr too easily, unhooking his claws from the sheets as he does. But it is undeniably a thing he solicits and encourages during sex.

And, yes, enjoys.

A lot.

"But not right now."

It could be, if Taako wanted. He wouldn't be wrong about the risk . Part of the thrill--especially when it comes to sex--is that intensity, that intimacy with mortality. But.

"It's a... need. A craving." His delivery--and his stare--intensify, but he's looking past Taako, into some invisible abyss. Someplace where the words to convey the sensation actually exist.

But he's still sitting, his paws pressed flat against the bed.

"It makes me feel so..." He opens his mouth, closes it, lets out his breath all at once--forcefully. "Alive."

Edited 2017-08-12 03:46 (UTC)

"... that still kind of sounds like a sex thing," Taako says, but he's grinning at Foster, clearly teasing. He folds his arms across his chest, shrugging his shoulders lightly. "Like, an all-the-time sex thing, but if you're saying it's not always, then okay, sure."

Part of him is quietly curious as to whether it has something to do with his brain or not, but he also realizes that asking about something like that is probably super unpleasant, so he opts not to actually vocalize that thought.

"So, uh. This conversation took a super weird turn, and I gotta ask, was that part of the plan, for you to take me to your house and tell me about your weird... pain thing, or are we just super bad at making light conversation?"

Not all that long ago--on the other side of a dream, perhaps--Foster would have laughed with Taako, then simply encouraged the elf to think as poorly as he wants of him for being what he is.

And that's still his primary instinct, honestly. But he has second impulse this time, one at almost direct odds with the first. And his struggle only really becomes clear once the first syllable is out of his mouth.

"No, it's--" he stops, gestures, frustrated. Confused, actually, by the conflict of ideas and experiences and concepts he suddenly wants to communicate--and avoid.

Why should he tell Taako at all? He can't really justify it, but he's still unaccountably bothered. Impulsivity, disinhibition are his constant downfall, and he failed to recognise, let alone resolve the inexplicable conflict in time to stop. And now he's already started--

"It's... mmmm. I can't... I can't think, it's--I'm--everything is... it's just... not there. It's nothing! I can't... feel anything. Pain is... different. It helps me think. Reality... feels more real, I can reel it, the edge of reality. I know what's there. That I'm there. I'm here. Blood marks a boundary and I can see it, I can touch it and it marks out the pieces, I can touch it and feel what's real and...!"

He stops, breathing in frustration, unaware until then of how he'd been clenching his teeth, claws curved inwards as though to grasp, to hold something tangible, something he can feel and touch inside of his mind but when put into words just... dissolved again.

Contrary to how he generally behaves, Taako is both very intelligent and fairly well-read-- it only takes him a second to figure out that what Foster's talking about isn't just nonsense, though he doesn't have the words to pin down exactly what it is he's saying. Still, he actually listens intently, his expression even, until Foster finally starts to wind down.

"So--" When he speaks up, his voice isn't teasing anymore; he's asking an honest question. "So it's kind of like... a wake-up call, right? Like, you're awake and kind of... here, instead of off on Jupiter or something mentally, is that right?"

"--Yes." He says it with such obvious relief that a second later he's acutely aware of it, and similarly aware of just how much that doesn't include--but he's not sure how to fix it.

He hesitates, moving his hands--paws, whatever--like he's trying to think of something else. Something more. There's more, he knows there's more. He... had more, so much more, but now that Taako spoke--or maybe it has nothing to do with Taako at all--it's just....

"....mmmm." He doesn't know how else to deal with this except--

"Anyway."

Taako can't help but smile when Foster seems so relieved. It's a rare emotion to see in him, and it actually makes Taako feel kind of smug-- like he solved Foster's reality and pain puzzle.

And then Foster seems to get... Distracted.

"... uh, so... got anything else on your mind? Since I'm here and all."

"..... yes." Foster pauses, though, clearly still trying to pick up the pieces of whatever train of thought he had. Or more accurately, trying to remember any kind of train of thought. Or the ability to think.

Quite honestly, the entire conversation could have taken an extremely uncomfortable turn if it weren't for the butterfly clip.

If it weren't for that constant gesture, Foster reaching up to bury his digits in his hair, running them back along the scalp, tangling them in his hair... or, instead, feeling his claws click against the plastic of a sherbet green butterfly clip, still holding his long hair out of his face.

Which reminds him. There was something he wanted to say.

"...."

He struggles with it, though. It's inappropriate. Or feels that way. Off somehow. For him to say something like that to anybody--for anything, except of course the kind of treatment he deserves. He struggles with it, and does not look at Taako but instead down at his bloody sheets, brow furrowed, claws feeling along the edges of the bright green hairclip.

".... this....... thank you."

That... actually catches Taako off guard. It's a surprisingly genuine look of surprise that Foster earns, his eyes wide for just a beat.

"-- oh. Uh. No problem." He breaks into an almost uncertain smile, trying to recover his composure. "I mean, it's technically yours, anyway, I was just giving it back. Figured you might need it, and, you know, I've got plenty of my own, anyway."

He didn't expect any thanks, much less thanks so genuine, from Foster of all people. It feels wildly out of place, but it's not a bad thing.

Taako... he isn't actually sure how he feels about this. Huh.

Foster isn't sure how he feels about it either. Or rather, how he 'feels' about it. The truth is, he has no idea how to be 'sincere.'

Honest, yes--he is often extremely honest, generally to the detriment of most social norms, except when by very deliberate choice.

But sincerity?

Sincerity is... something else. It's 'heartfelt.' Foster's never achieved anything heartfelt in his life, except when assisted by conviction.

There is no conviction to thanking someone.

It's just... uncomfortable.

Well. That's one mistake he probably won't make again.

Edited 2017-08-15 03:27 (UTC)

The awkward silence almost makes Taako laugh, once it's had plenty of time to sink in; he rolls his eyes at the both of them, and then relaxes his posture a bit, lounging back against the mattress on his palms.

"That's a good look for you," he muses, a catlike smile on his face as he watches Foster, painted eyelids hanging heavy. "I guess the carnival figured it was time you grew your hair out some, huh? Maybe it's a sign you need to chill out a little, take some time and just relax, let your hair down."

His smile lights up just a bit, amused at his own incoming joke: "But, you know, not literally, because seriously, you look kinda adorable."

Foster almost laughs--compulsively, not out of any real sense of humour--but Taako's last sentence prevents that by causing a very different sort of reaction.

His response is instead paired with a laugh that is humourous for all the wrong reasons.

"You can't dress up garbage."

"Au contraire, my good friend," Taako begins, fluttering his painted lashes at Foster almost pointedly; and then he sits up with a grin, going so far as to lean in more closely. "I do believe I just did."

Edited 2017-09-20 00:13 (UTC)

Foster's face goes through some interesting contortions as he struggles to react--no, to contain his reaction to that, for the first time in...

...in a very long time, he has that in him, the knowledge that something might be contained, whether or not it could or even should be. The question of whether or not it should happen is too complex for him, though, and it slips--but by that point, the moment is lost and while he makes a nasty face, he doesn't argue explicitly.

He does, however, pull his claws away from his wound, spreading them to display hooked tips covered in bright blood and dark scabbing.

Au contraire yourself, probably.

Taako screws his face up at the sight of those bloodied claws, but he doesn't complain-- not out loud, anyway. He knows how pointless it is, by now-- if Foster's previous spiel about blood and pain and all that proved nothing else, besides the fact that the man is certifiably insane, it's that he isn't interested getting medical attention.

Oh well. He really is cute with his hair pulled up like that. At least, when he's not making those faces or drooling all over himself.

Taako considers for a moment that he might need to reassess his taste.

"I'm just gonna count that one as a victory for Taako," he says finally, standing and straightening his skirt idly.

Foster deadeyes him for a second, but doesn't argue--which is effectively the same as a win, at least with Foster. He breaks eye contact after a second, sticking the ends of his claws in his mouth somewhat absently--the taste of blood, his blood is disgusting and soothing and loathsome and...

...ah.

"Well. If you're done here, you can go any time. Or not--" He waves the bloodied paw airily, red goo still speckling his claws and clumping the blond fur. "It is late. But the bed is right there. Free free to use it--or this one, or just me--in any way you wish!"

Taako begins to speak before the entire offer has processed, which is incredibly clear in his response: "Uh, I appreciate it and all, buwhat, hold on a second, excuse me?"

He stares at Foster for a beat, eyes wide and ears at attention.

"It's up to you," Foster replies lightly--at least superficially. But there's a weightiness to it that suggests that even if it is, as he says, up to Taako... the wrong answer will be counted as a failure on his part, and he will be judged accordingly.

"I-- okay, hold on a second," Taako repeats, this time a bit more slowly, and he holds up his hands almost defensively, as if he has to physically stop Foster from continuing this train of thought before he can sort it all out. "I just-- before I fuckin' answer this, I wanna make sure, but are you inviting me to fuckin'... sleep with you? Like, in the Biblical sense?"

Foster isn't interested in continuing--this is about Taako's answer, Taako's desires, not his own. Which is why the elf's request for clarity earns a somewhat chilly lack of response. Foster regards the tips of his claws indifferently; his eyes are gently lidded, only partway, but the look itself... is not especially charitable.

Questioning it, apparently, is not part of the right answer.

"... I'm... gonna take that as a yes. Which... okay, uh, first off, kinda sudden? I mean, not that I'm not at all into it, but like..." He babbles for a second, a bit nervously; it's odd, almost unnatural, seeing him so awkward. Taako pauses, taking a breath, and then looks Foster over; he tilts his head a bit.

"... okay. You know what? Sure, let's party, why not. YOLO and all that. But, uh, can I make a request here first?" He points, indicating the wound at Foster's side. "Could you get that patched up, at least, so you're not bleeding all over me the whole time? I know you're probably super into that idea, but I'm... not."

Edited 2017-09-24 22:29 (UTC)

Mmmm.

On the one hand, Taako appears to have grasped the basic idea: he wants sex, and Foster's body is available to him. On the other, he's failed to really seize the opportunity--or, less probably but more generously, is hedging his bets--by framing his conditions as a request rather than what they are.

Foster isn't feeling very generous.

Even if he were, that... is an impossible request to fulfill!

"Ah... well, that's... I can't! I'm not a fan of doctors." His claws go for his hairline, reflexively, but stop just millimetres in--it's because of the hair clip, but given the few wet scabs still his claws, it's probably better. Not that he notices. Instead, he traces one claw along the outline at the base of one bovine ear, leaning forward already with bright eyes.

"Because I'm scared of them. Haha... pathetic, right? I guess I'm just a coward! So, I can't really obey that order. Sorry!"

Edited 2017-09-25 01:13 (UTC)

"... ah." Taako inclines his head, pressing his thumb at his lip as he thinks that over. "... yeah, that explains a lot. Okay, how about this: would you let me fuckin'... stick some gauze over it or something, at least?"

He has no idea if they even have any of that sitting around the trailer, but, if not, he can transmute some up from a fucking washcloth or something, so at least there's that. His magic's come in handy for increasingly mundane things since he moved in with Foster, which is honestly a little bit amusing.

Foster is jolted into laughing.

Not at the request to put gauze over the wound, but 'yeah, that explains a lot' is the funniest thing he's heard in... well, at least a few minutes. It's not even actually funny--

Which might be why it's easy enough to stop, once the initial, irrational impulse had passed.

"Oh, just gauze and tape--? That's fine."

He stops for just a second and makes eye contact with the elf.

"Whatever you want."

What Taako just doesn't get is that short of trying to convince Foster to a doctor, he could do absolutely anything to Foster. And, indeed, would be encouraged to.

"... okay, can I ask you a real question, though, real quick before we get started on this whole... thing?"

Taako heads to their little trailer bathroom to get something to transmute into some medical supplies; he has no idea how sanitary shit he makes through transmutation is, but he realizes pretty quickly that Foster definitely doesn't care, and anything will be better than the nothing he's got now. So he whips up a thick gauze pad, and retrieves some normal washcloths to clean the wound with a little before he applies the gauze. He also summons up some tape-- the kind they have in first aid kits, so they don't have to use packing tape or something to stick it on.

He pokes his head back out of the bathroom as he runs some water to dampen the cloths, frowning.

"You're not gonna fucking kill me or something during the act, are you? Like... this isn't some kind of weird trap, right?"

Foster is.... not surprised, exactly, but goes silent, looking Taako up and down in speculative manner.

It's not that the idea isn't appealing--it's extraordinary, magnificent, exquisite and on another day, might even be tempting, just by its concept alone--but he's been looking for someone to properly use him, not for a way to rack up a body count.

He's not going to back out of that now.

Still, he responds in what is probably the least reassuring manner possible.

"Do you want me to?"

"I'm... gonna have to say no, but I appreciate the offer, there, my man," comes Taako's very clearly not at all reassured response. He steps out of the little bathroom, supplies in tow, and he looks over at Foster's bed and its questionable sheets.

"... euhhhh. Can we... do this thing over on the other bed here, maybe?"

Chill Out [Closed]

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