[ There's nothing fun about the storm currently crashing through camp, even with the Hosts' assurances that all will be well. Enjin, stretched out in a corner of one of the larger tents, watches the shielded walls shudder around him, feeling rather like he's caught in the belly of yet another massive beast — and that was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, thanks. A crazy story to retell with the team.
But he's down a team, here — though he is up both a bottle of oddly colored liquor and a high-tech tablet, so. After fumbling through the default apps for a few minutes, thinking of the people he should, but can't, keep an eye on from so great a distance: ]
you up? and alive ig but ik you wouldn't leave jonas jr and the boys all alone like that
[ What time is it, anyway? Sometime post-dinner, at the very least; one of the Hosts brought him a dry, crumbly, allegedly nutrient-dense bar not so long ago, but he spies just enough movement in the corner of his eye to think that it can't be too late to check in on a guy he does-but-doesn't know. ]
b/c i spy with my little eye something green and i'll give you three guesses
( The text notification wakes him from the weakest nap of his life. He's propped up in a makeshift camp chair in the tent, swaddled in a blanket, blinking alert with a backward loll of his head. )
Ugh, ( he grunts eloquently before squinting at his communicator. )
[At some late hour, after the Wayfarers' camp has settled in the cool desert dark, Cain takes a picture of himself. He's sitting in the cockpit of his ship — he'd wandered back earlier just to get some space and decided to stay the night. The chair isn't as comfortable as a sleeping bag, but it could be worse and it affords him privacy as he strips off his shirt and angles the device's camera down the front of his body.
The photo shows his face, since he's not that precious about it — black eyes slanted down in a sultry look, shadows from pale interior lights revealing the dark line of skin from his throat to his navel. He's tanned a little from being out in the sun every day; his complexion looks healthier than how much more pallid it seemed back on the Theorem. Hip bones are cut sharply, abdomen muscles defined, curve of a narrow waist showing just the beginning of that intimate trail of hair low on his belly.]
see? not frowning, and no wrinkles
[Oh no, too bad this got dropped into the group chat by accident.]
[ Recently it feels that Noctis has actually been able to find some sense of harmony and rhythm with his duties. He's begun to predict the desert's pitfalls with more accuracy, found the stamina to do his work around camp and without constant check-ins on his progress, and perhaps more importantly his social ties aren't just forming but strengthening. There's something of a net there now, tentative and strange as it might be, and that's helped keep everything else at bay so he can function.
Because of that, and in the wake of his first ever night of drinking, it isn't too surprising to see a message come through the group chat late at night. Probably a joke from Jonas, and that thought – along with the boneless kind of tired that accompanies a long day of working – has him dropping onto his cot and immediately checking the message. From Cain? That's less expected, and the text confuses him until he opens the attached picture.
Then he's really confused.
Cain's body is something he's studied even without seeing it in any real state of undress, having felt arm muscles and taken sidelong glances at a defined chest under the useful pretense of preparing to engage an opponent. There's no shame in that, just like there's never been in his past, but it equips him at least with the knowledge that this is his body, not some fake or any setup to a joke with an underwhelming punchline. The simple obvious response to realizing this is real and clearly taken and sent by him is irritation. They've taken a recent step back from Cain's sexual messages and effective attempts to get under his skin, and he actually might've called that progress... even if now, in the wake of his last conversations with Jonas and a newfound interest in worst-case assumptions, he wonders if that wasn't Jonas's doing all along. Now here's this, with a message he doesn't understand, and were he less flustered and dealing with how that manifests quickly into anger he might lean towards this being sent by accident. Instead: ]
Why
[ Any other reaction doesn't ferret for information the way he wants to, and doesn't keep him from looking like a dumbass if he reads the situation wrong. And that picture itself–
It's weird. Seeing someone like Gladio shirtless every day rapidly become normalized, in the same way that Cain's sexual jokes for a moment had become simpler to take in stride. But now? Combining the two, seeing a glimpse of something he shouldn't that was created to get a reaction, makes his stomach twist into knots. This isn't different than looking at something like pornography might've been growing up, except that it is in every way because this isn't a fantasy. This is someone real, tangible, close. Someone that, in a strange way, he enjoys.
He puts the communicator down flat, suddenly, too tense to wait for any typing dots. ]
[The notification from ward is jarring, and for a second there's just — dread and a little terror before he opens it, almost certain the two of them have talked, certain this is going to be a definitive message ending their friendship forever.
[ Sometime after dinner on December 24th a present makes its way into Jonas's tent, left atop his cot for him to discover. The note on the top, in clean elegant handwriting, specifies only to open Dec. 25th.
Inside the shoddily wrapped gift, which is hidden only by the empty plastic wrappers that clearly housed large boxes of Jonas's preferred granola bars, he'll find two separate items.
One is a simple compass, steadily pointing north, and the other is a single right-handed glove. Beneath both, another note: Turns out Benjamin means "son of the right hand" or "son of the south". Pretty sure you can figure out which gift is which. If you find yourself getting turned around again though maybe this will help you out. ]
[Sometime in the evening of December 26th, Jonas will find a small bag sitting outside his tent, complete with a note emblazoned with the letter 'J'. The handwriting isn't much better than Jonas's own, and reads:]
J,
Just so you know, my people don't celebrate this holiday until Jan 7th. But since you wrote me a cute letter and already gave me a present, figured I should return the favor.
Can't read your fortune or sing you a carol (I mean, I can, but I won't)... so here's the next best thing.
PS. Ты тоже привлекательная. (you're hot too) Keep the ribbon, I have an idea for it later.
PPS. Cigs are native, gonna taste different and give you a headache first hit but it goes away and feels the same in the end. Let me know if you need a light. Got one from this cute guy I met.
C праздником. (holiday greeting)
- K.
[Inside the bag, Jonas will find an unopened bottle of vodka tied off with a red ribbon. Beside it is a box of hand-rolled cigarettes made with the Sun's Lace plant. And last but certainly not least: a sleek, black bottle of water-based lubricant.]
[He knows he needs to do this, but the sick feeling in his stomach is almost — almost enough to convince him back into silence. Yet he's faced this before, in a memory still as clear as a new wound, when bravery was demanded of him and he rose to the attempt despite so many past failures and consequences.
It nearly killed him that time, but he'd still do it again. Maybe it's different now, or maybe it's not. He just knows he has to try.]
[ It's night, days into their travel with the caravan, and well after they shared in a difficult conversation and a torrent of emotions. And out of nowhere Jonas gets the following text: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: umbreaker;
But he's down a team, here — though he is up both a bottle of oddly colored liquor and a high-tech tablet, so. After fumbling through the default apps for a few minutes, thinking of the people he should, but can't, keep an eye on from so great a distance: ]
you up?
and alive ig but ik you wouldn't leave jonas jr and the boys all alone like that
[ What time is it, anyway? Sometime post-dinner, at the very least; one of the Hosts brought him a dry, crumbly, allegedly nutrient-dense bar not so long ago, but he spies just enough movement in the corner of his eye to think that it can't be too late to check in on a guy he does-but-doesn't know. ]
b/c i spy
with my little eye
something green
and i'll give you three guesses
MY BOY!!!!!
Ugh, ( he grunts eloquently before squinting at his communicator. )
omg This early
( It's, like, 10 pm or something. )
If it's another big evil lizard, dude, hard pass
a 28yo bro? uncle? bruncle...
2. not a lizard
3. tf dude you kinda suck at this game
you never been on a road trip before?
[ But hey, good to know you're alive and well! Well-ish. He is genuinely Pleased. ]
bruncle enjin...
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un: ward, un: reliant, un: darknight
un: ward
True to the facts he put out there, the real melody is different from what Cain and Noctis remember. )
Here, before you both ask me again for the clip
It's cool right?
un: darknight
[ darknight is typing... ]
[ darknight is typing... ]
[ and finally: ] Pretty cool
[ WHY IS CAIN HERE ]
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2/2 surprise
SMFH!
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un: reliant
The photo shows his face, since he's not that precious about it — black eyes slanted down in a sultry look, shadows from pale interior lights revealing the dark line of skin from his throat to his navel. He's tanned a little from being out in the sun every day; his complexion looks healthier than how much more pallid it seemed back on the Theorem. Hip bones are cut sharply, abdomen muscles defined, curve of a narrow waist showing just the beginning of that intimate trail of hair low on his belly.]
see? not frowning, and no wrinkles
[Oh no, too bad this got dropped into the group chat by accident.]
un: darknight, tl;dr
Because of that, and in the wake of his first ever night of drinking, it isn't too surprising to see a message come through the group chat late at night. Probably a joke from Jonas, and that thought – along with the boneless kind of tired that accompanies a long day of working – has him dropping onto his cot and immediately checking the message. From Cain? That's less expected, and the text confuses him until he opens the attached picture.
Then he's really confused.
Cain's body is something he's studied even without seeing it in any real state of undress, having felt arm muscles and taken sidelong glances at a defined chest under the useful pretense of preparing to engage an opponent. There's no shame in that, just like there's never been in his past, but it equips him at least with the knowledge that this is his body, not some fake or any setup to a joke with an underwhelming punchline. The simple obvious response to realizing this is real and clearly taken and sent by him is irritation. They've taken a recent step back from Cain's sexual messages and effective attempts to get under his skin, and he actually might've called that progress... even if now, in the wake of his last conversations with Jonas and a newfound interest in worst-case assumptions, he wonders if that wasn't Jonas's doing all along. Now here's this, with a message he doesn't understand, and were he less flustered and dealing with how that manifests quickly into anger he might lean towards this being sent by accident. Instead: ]
Why
[ Any other reaction doesn't ferret for information the way he wants to, and doesn't keep him from looking like a dumbass if he reads the situation wrong. And that picture itself–
It's weird. Seeing someone like Gladio shirtless every day rapidly become normalized, in the same way that Cain's sexual jokes for a moment had become simpler to take in stride. But now? Combining the two, seeing a glimpse of something he shouldn't that was created to get a reaction, makes his stomach twist into knots. This isn't different than looking at something like pornography might've been growing up, except that it is in every way because this isn't a fantasy. This is someone real, tangible, close. Someone that, in a strange way, he enjoys.
He puts the communicator down flat, suddenly, too tense to wait for any typing dots. ]
1/?
2/4
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1/2
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on the morning of jan. 1
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un: ward
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... No. It's a bug.]
oh cool
[trying not to have a panic attack over here]
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@darknight
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Re: 2/2
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[not here]
Inside the shoddily wrapped gift, which is hidden only by the empty plastic wrappers that clearly housed large boxes of Jonas's preferred granola bars, he'll find two separate items.
One is a simple compass, steadily pointing north, and the other is a single right-handed glove. Beneath both, another note: Turns out Benjamin means "son of the right hand" or "son of the south". Pretty sure you can figure out which gift is which. If you find yourself getting turned around again though maybe this will help you out. ]
audio;
no subject
How are you, man? Getting by alright?
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cw: brief emeto
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NOT MY OVERT BABY GAY FEELINGS
He's got your number, Baby J
😳
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no subject
J,
Just so you know, my people don't celebrate this holiday until Jan 7th. But since you wrote me a cute letter and already gave me a present, figured I should return the favor.
Can't read your fortune or sing you a carol (I mean, I can, but I won't)... so here's the next best thing.
PS. Ты тоже привлекательная. (you're hot too) Keep the ribbon, I have an idea for it later.
PPS. Cigs are native, gonna taste different and give you a headache first hit but it goes away and feels the same in the end. Let me know if you need a light. Got one from this cute guy I met.
C праздником. (holiday greeting)
- K.
[Inside the bag, Jonas will find an unopened bottle of vodka tied off with a red ribbon. Beside it is a box of hand-rolled cigarettes made with the Sun's Lace plant. And last but certainly not least: a sleek, black bottle of water-based lubricant.]
un: darknight
[ shortly after this disaster ]
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un: reliant
It nearly killed him that time, but he'd still do it again. Maybe it's different now, or maybe it's not. He just knows he has to try.]
hey
we should talk
no subject
If this is about Noctis man, I already know
You got in a fight and you're both done
I get it
I'll butt out, you two can handle it
👍🏻
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@darknight
Is Bonnie okay
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Who
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every stage of grief
penis mention
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