[closed] when my depression works the graveyard shift

[ordinar]

WHO: Wilhelm & pals
WHAT: Catchall for PTSD spring
WHERE: Thorne
WHEN: throughout April and May
WARNINGS: will be updated as needed

Comments

robin - april event

[ordinar]

Feeling like a wound that hasn't healed right, Wilhelm isn't in much of a party mood. He lets Elrond drag him along to the banquet anyway, because the alternative is rotting alone in the room with all his thoughts. The promise of alcohol is persuasive enough. No, he doesn't want to examine the timeline of when and how booze evolved beyond something fun to do, something to help him loosen up in social situations.

Anyway, after dinner concludes, he sticks to the edges of the ballroom. He debates slipping out after the first song, but somehow that makes him feel worse. If Lucifer can find someone to dance with, then what the hell is wrong with him that he can't? He's been hoping to catch Rhy alone, his eyes finding him all night without ever really meaning to. The problem with him being so gorgeous, though, is that he's never alone. There's a wall around him, too, that he isn't sure how to breach.

That's when he catches a glimpse of Robin wallflowering by an elaborate display of cakes. She'd helped him stave off boredom while he recovered in Nocwich, and kept visiting him after they returned to Thorne. Supposing he owes her, Wilhelm cuts across the room, hands folded behind his back and shoulders straight. In his embroidered jacket he looks, well, princely.

"Wanna dance?" With a little grin, he offers his hand to her.

[schlick]

In an effort to draw attention away from herself, Robin keeps a somewhat dour expression on her face, even if the long sleeves of her shirt are fraying from where discomfort has lead her to pick. The entire idea of an execution is enough to weigh heavily on her mind, even without the knowledge that it actually came to fruition. However — there is probably exactly one bright spot to a party like this, and he comes bounding up looking regal and charming and precisely cute enough to earn a whistle from Robin, who goes from a sour expression to absolutely, manically pleased in one second to the next.

"Meow, Wille. You clean up nice."

Provided the last she saw him was on a recovery bed, it isn't specifically hard to do. In any case, she eyes his hand with a fair amount of trepidation — not because the idea of dancing with Wille is horrendous, and not because she's isn't grateful to have her mood swiftly lifted by his presence.

Only a little hesitant, she puts her hand in his, jerkily shrugging in a way that betrays her motive to appear otherwise unbothered. "I'm not really good at dancing. Hope you don't like your toes much."

Rather: she's never really had the chance, before.

[ordinar]

It's good to see Robin brighten with a smile. She looks more like herself like that, and her cheerfulness makes it a little easier to forget about all the heavy stuff weighing them down. At least for a little while.

"They're my least favorite body part, actually." He attempts to sound dead serious for about five seconds, but the smirk cracking his countenance gives away the joke. "Don't worry, I can show you how. Come on."

As he leads her onto the dance floor, Wilhelm counts out the rhythm of the music. Thornean music, unsurprisingly, doesn't match any Earth styles precisely, but the song the musicians are currently sawing out is like a cousin to a waltz. Three beats a measure, with a fourth beat added on at regular intervals. Well, he'll figure out something to do with that extra beat.

"First, hold onto here." He taps his shoulder, before setting his free hand on her waist. Light and comfortable.

rhy - april event

[ordinar]

For the length of about two songs, Wilhelm watches Rhy from across the room. To be fair, he doesn't watch him every second — it's not like he's stalking him. It's just that his eyes keep circling back to him, like comets in orbit, all the fault of gravity. Then, finally, he works up the nerve to barge into his space and ask for a dance. He becomes a different person, possessed by a confidence that he doesn't feel, borrowing a casualness that belies the fact that Rhy has the power to sink his whole night or lift it up into the stratosphere.

For whatever reason, Rhy agrees. Boredom or politeness — Wilhelm bans himself from reading into things too much. The problem is, the number of dance steps they know in common is, like, next to zero, and Wilhelm can't make up his mind if he's leading or following. It's a mess, but it's fun, and that's all that really matters.

"You seemed a little down," he says unprompted mid-song, when they've found some kind of rhythm together. Pot and kettle, or whatever — as if sulking doesn't rank among his top activities. But there's sincerity in his voice, concern in his eyes as he watches Rhy, now from the vantage point of his arms.

[londonbound]

Wilhelm has seen Rhy be the life of the party on most occasions where a party is to be had; it doesn't take a lot of observing or stalking to notice he's sticking to himself for the most part this time, lingering in the sidelines, near the buffet table. Not eating much, mostly drinking. He spends a little time with Kell, then drifts away again.

But he'll accept the request to dance with a smile from Wille. It is warm and genuine despite his apparent distraction, and Rhy lets him lead them both out to the middle of the floor. The music and steps are not exactly the same as what he grew up with, but neither are they so different. By now, Rhy's picked up quite a lot of Thorne's culture, including this part. He leads when Wilhelm stumbles or misses a step, instructing him gently, guiding his movements with a practiced ease as if he's been dancing to these songs all his life.

His hands are on Wilhelm's waist for this slower dance. Something less formal, a breather between the faster-paced jigs that call for precise rhythm and step and switching positions at intervals. This time, having caught their breath, they can actually talk. Though it's unclear that Rhy actually wants to.

He reacts to the implicit question with a twitch of his mouth and scrunch of his brows like he's considering whether he accidentally swallowed a fly. After a moment, Rhy shrugs.

"Not in the mood to celebrate, I suppose."

[ordinar]

Of course Rhy cuts every movement with enough grace for both of them, saving Wilhelm when he missteps and keeping the whole thing afloat. Wilhelm just hopes that if he can't impress him with his mastery of dance, then he can at least endear him with his clumsiness.

And...he hopes he can cheer him up a little bit. It makes his own chest ache to see Rhy sunk in a dark mood when he usually shines brightest at parties. After Rhy has persevered through Wilhelm's moods — reaching out when he walls himself off, remembering him when it would be easier to just forget about it — he feels a sort of duty to reciprocate. A desperation to be someone he can rely on.

For one tense note, the kind that stretches and shudders on the musician's bows, he worries that he's wrecked it by saying something. When Rhy answers, Wilhelm shifts his hand just a little to stroke the curve of his neck with his thumb. To comfort him, he hopes.

"I guess it's kind of a weird reason to throw a party."

In the wake of someone's death. Even if that someone deserved to die.

[londonbound]

"There is that," Rhy agrees. He doesn't pull away from the touch, bowing his head slightly, partly to get closer and partly to allow it.

"It sits poorly on my conscience," he admits with a sigh. Of course, it wasn't like either of them had any hand or any say in this. They attended because it is required -- even if, technically, it was said to be optional; Rhy knows better, knows it will draw too much unwanted attention and suspicion to skip it entirely, and so the gala was not optional at all for anyone who wanted to remain in the public eye).

"Let's not speak of it here."

[ordinar]

Wilhelm has had a few drinks — not enough to make the room sway, but enough to blur his edges and make him float. What intoxicates him more is Rhy's touch. His hands on his waist, suggesting the next step. His head bowing into the stroke of Wilhelm's thumb, his pulse at his fingertips. He pretends, in this moment, it's just for him.

"Do...you want to go somewhere else?" he offers, sucking in his lip and lofting his eyebrows at Rhy.

There are plenty of stairways and alcoves and balconies around here, all better suited to privacy. That is, if Rhy wants to talk. Wilhelm hopes he's someone Rhy can confide in — he hopes a lot of things when he's around the other prince. He can't help it.

[londonbound]

With that expression, Rhy isn't sure if Wilhelm got the wrong impression. He lowers his voice, and his hands, taking one of Wilhelm's in his own to pull him away from the dance floor.

"Let's get some fresh air."

Hayle is even colder than Castle Thorne, and though Rhy's sure there's some enchantment or at least heating sources out on the balconies, he's also noticed that there aren't many people out there. It should be easy to find an empty one.

Once they're out of the crowd, Rhy releases Wilhelm's hand and leads the way, pausing only to grab another glass of wine from a tray as someone passes by.

[ordinar]

When Rhy takes his hand, Wilhelm follows as easily as water carried by a current. He doesn't care about cutting their dance short. It's a different kind of intimacy, abandoning the party together to find a quiet corner, being an open ear and shoulder for him. Following Rhy's example, he snatches up a glass of wine from the same tray. If not for Rhy's heavy mood, he would be levitating — beyond the effect of the alcohol. But that's the thing about hanging your heart on someone. You carry a part of what they feel with you.

At the far end of the ballroom, they find an empty balcony through the open crystalline doors. The night air rests coolly on their skin. Corralling himself against the balustrade, Wilhelm holds his glass up to Rhy.

"Cheers," he says soberly before tipping back the first sip. Then, he'll wait for Rhy to release whatever is on his mind.

[londonbound]

Rhy takes a long, heavy breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs deep as he can. Holding it a moment before exhaling in a soft mist of white that forms before his lips when it escapes into the night.

His mouth twitches into a half-smile.

"Cheers."

Once he's finished off most of his wine in one gulp, Rhy sets the cup on the stone ledge, still holding it, and looks over at the city below.

"We shouldn't be here," he says with a sigh, keeping his voice low even though they're the only ones out here. "This whole... display. Who is it for? The nobility in Hayle, who have been entirely insulated from the abductions and the horrors of what Josselyn's cult wrought? It is a curiosity to them. As are we. I considered refusing to come at all, but-- to be honest, I do not think that was really a choice."

jesper - horizon date

[ordinar]

These meet ups in the Horizon have become a part of Wilhelm's routine. Dates, Jesper calls them, and he supposes they are. They always lead to their clothes scattered on the floor and their bodies tangled together.

Today brings a change in the routine. Jesper's domain, the usual setting for their rendezvous, gets swapped for Wilhelm's. He rarely invites anyone over to his little corner of the Horizon. It's not that interesting — and anyway, it's designed as a place to retreat to, not to share. At some point, though, he'd brought up the car he's manifested here, and Jesper, always a fan of shiny new thrills, begged to check it out.

When he sees Jesper sauntering up to the house overlooking the lake, Wilhelm rushes over to meet him. The house itself has gone through several transformations in the past year as he figures out what he wants. Once, it looked like an echo of Simon's house. Somewhere he only ever spent a handful of hours, but that was long enough to leave him with the impression that this was what a home is supposed to feel like. These days, it's something constructed out of his own imagination: sleek and modern in contrast to the ornate trappings of the palace he'd grown up in, which felt preserved in time like a fly in amber. The car, a perfect replica of his brother's Ferrari, sits in the driveway.

"Hey," he smiles at Jesper.

I LIVE

[itookashot]

Jesper has slightly different relationships with all of his lovers because they are all different people with their own wants and needs. Sometimes it's just sex. Sometimes it's anything but sex. Sometimes it's a mix of both like with Wilhelm, where they can have dates and spend time together and end up in bed afterward. It's very satisfying. They have a pretty good sense of what their relationship entails and it works for them.

Jesper's in his signature greens, flowy and comfortable wear, although he doesn't wear his long coat in here; it always ends up thrown to the ground anyway. He is definitely excited to see this car Wilhelm mentioned. They are more used to wagons, although they did drive a tank the one time. This is going to be better because anything is possible in the Horizon.

When he arrives his attention goes straight to said car and he eagerly moves right up to it, running his hand curiously over the sleek metal. He can sense when there are different types of metal and even in here it feels different from anything he's known before. "Wow, smooth." Jesper loves inventions like this, he loves technology. He circles it, gray eyes fascinated, looking at all the details, most of them he doesn't fully understand. The tires, yes, he can feel the engine but not what it does. The seats look comfortable.

"And you just drive this around in your world? Roads and things? How fast does it go?"

[ordinar]

He joins Jesper at the car's side, watching with hands in pockets as he admires its sleek candy-red contours, glittering dashboard, and pristine leather seats — only two of them. It's a little bit like watching someone open a present you picked out for them. Not that he's letting Jesper keep this one. But he could conjure up his own, if he likes.

"Fast," Wilhelm answers, grinning wide. He still remembers the numbers Erik used to rattle off. "Like, 300 kilometers an hour fast. And technically, I wasn't old enough to drive back home, but..."

Slinging Jesper a conspiratorial look, he pulls the keys from his pocket and thumbs the button to unlock the doors. He slips into the driver's seat and gestures for Jesper to join him on the passenger side.

"There aren't any laws about it here."

[itookashot]

"There are so many rules against teenagers in these Earths I've heard about."

Nadine's discomfort with letting teenagers get high is a strange one, but he respects it and has gone around it. But whenever he hears about the limitations on teenagers, and how his age plays so much against him sometimes to older folks, it's a bizarre feeling. It's not that Ketterdam is without ageists, but they all know damned well that a dangerous teenager is as much a threat as anyone else; more so, in some ways. The recklessness of youth.

He happily slides into the passenger seat and his hand runs along the leather. Now that is nice. "We're going to need to have sex in this car, Wille." Typical Jesper to be so utterly shameless but it is also typical that he sees this sleek metal mystery and leather seats and it's where his mind goes. He's turned on by technology and innovation, so sue him.

That statement made, as if it probably wasn't already going to happen, means that they can focus on the drive. Jesper doesn't bother with the seatbelt because he doesn't know what it is, and they're in the Horizon. They'll be fine. "We may have to make our own road."

[ordinar]

That comment doesn't surprise Wilhelm like it might have done once upon a time. Sure, his cheeks heat pink, but a suggestive arch of his eyebrows accompanies his brightening grin, and he doesn't duck his head to laugh behind his knuckles. He laughs right into a kiss, swaying over the center console to press his lips to Jesper's.

"Obviously," he says, fingers tricking down Jesper's jaw, "but not while I'm driving."

Never mind that a sleek, seductive sportscar is, ironically, not all that conducive to canoodling. Without a backseat, there's nowhere to lie down. But he trusts Jesper's brilliant mind to devise a solution...

Wilhelm snaps his seatbelt into place out of habit. Key in the ignition, turn, and the engine purrs. He never learned how to drive, so he's had to teach himself based on a curriculum of trial and error — and years of watching Erik from the passenger seat, as Jesper watches him now.

There are a lot of feelings thrumming in this car. Erik had died sitting where Wilhelm sits now, making it a memorial to his brother. But it's also a museum of some of their best moments. The last time they sat together in these leather seats, they belted out tunes on the long drive down to Hillerska, and for a little while, Wilhelm forgot that he was furious at their parents for sending him away.

"I'm putting you in charge of making the road then."

As he rolls around the curve of the driveway — he made it circular so that he doesn't have to bother with backing out — he thinks that Erik would have liked Jesper. They share a taste for fast thrills.

[itookashot]

Wilhelm has definitely come a ways since the blushing boy he was in the beginning, although he still does blush when Jesper says something suggestive, but now he laughs and kisses him instead of looking nervously interested. Jesper is rather proud of how much Wilhelm's come out of his shell from the first time they made out at the Crow Club. He definitely has something to do with it, so he lets it feed into his ego a bit.

He smiles into the kiss, meeting Wilhelm in the center, and nips his bottom lip playfully. "Afterward, then." As if Jesper wouldn't be able to use his creativity to make things work in here. The small amount of space could make it hot. It's them, it'll always be hot.

Jesper puts on his seatbelt after watching Wilhelm do it. "Oh you know I love a challenge." He noted the way the driveway looks so he will make a road similar to that in front of them. He's been in Abraxas long enough now to be very comfortable in the Horizon and he's remade his a few times, as well as helping others create theirs. He's never going to be like Julie's level of power in here, but he does have a talent for it.

"I can't believe you people have these commonly, I'm used to wagons and carriages." Cadens is the same way. "Is this the one you wanted when you were old enough to drive?" He'd go with green, but otherwise this suits his own preferences. He thinks he's get along with Erik too.

[ordinar]

Jesper has everything to do with his growing confidence. He's provided Wilhelm a safe space to just be himself, to explore everything that might mean. A year ago, bruised by love and barricaded in the closet, he didn't even know how to admit that he was interested. Six months ago, he let himself hold hands with a boy and kiss him on a crowded street for the first time, and was amazed to discover that nobody cared. So, what he's learned from Jesper is that if there's something you want, just reach out and take a handful.

"It was my brother's," he explains.

For once, Wilhelm actually feels cool as hell as he turns onto the road Jesper stretches out before them. Behind the wheel of an awesome car, with a gorgeous boy in the passenger seat, it's easier to let go of all that heavy crap and achieve the version of himself he wants to be. One final touch — from out of nowhere, he produces a pair of sunglasses and slides them onto his face. Then, shifting gears, he pushes his foot down on the pedal.

"Lots of people have cars, but not like this. This is..." Well, astronomically expensive, but he doesn't like to draw attention to that. "One of the best models out there."

Meanwhile, the engine effortlessly pushes them past 50 kilometers per hour, 60, 70, 100, and still climbing. The transmission is manual, and he has a little trouble commanding it smoothly, but the nice thing about imaginary cars is that you can just sort of will everything to work right. Grinning, he flicks a look over at Jesper to see what he thinks.

elrond - pretend it's still april

[ordinar]

His nightmares are all variations on the same theme. Vines tangle around his limbs, meld with his skin, strangle him, while something lurches nearer and nearer. He doesn't know what it is; he just knows he should be afraid of it. Sometimes he's left to die alone, and sometimes there are others caught in the writhing thicket of vines, familiar faces shaped around screams as their flesh splits into mouths lined with thorny teeth. Masks watch impassively in a circle that draws tighter and tighter.

When Wilhelm hurtles awake, the darkness is still and silent. But it has a weight to it that suffocates him, and he has to thrash free of the blankets twisted around his legs. It takes him a moment to lock into reality: he's not in the pit anymore, but a room at an inn in Hayle. Elrond lies in the next bed over. Moonlight spills through the window.

He stumbles over to it and, fumbling with the latch, pushes the window open. Cool night air splashes his face. Like someone who has just almost drowned, he gulps it into his lungs. When he doesn't have to struggle so much to breath, he melts onto the floor with his back curled against the wall and his knees folded to his chest.

Well, fuck. Turns out that sweet dreams potion doesn't work if you skimp on the dose.

[politicians]

[ nightmares are not the norm for elves. it is not that they always hold pleasant dreams, but they tend to sleep little in the night. after all, that is when starlight is best and the elves love to dance and sing under it. they have never forgotten the first light in their lives.

that does not mean they never have them. they are less the pulsing, adrenaline-fueled terrors that stalk others through, but a sickly sense that permeates throughout their thoughts. elrond does not toss and turn, but sleep eludes him, leaving his thoughts dark and heavy. a heaviness that he had thought he had left behind as a child.

he stirs at the sound of wilhelm's back, hitting the wall, bright eyes finding him quickly. his alertness is less of a herald in times of peace, but the quickness of a soldier. ]

What happened?

[ordinar]

[Wilhelm startles to discover Elrond's eyes piercing the darkness and peering at him. But soon the initial jolt settles into something softer, aching toward the inherent comfort of not having to be alone. That's how it was down there too, when he clung to the familiarity of his roommate like a life raft.]

Nothing, don't worry. [A hasty answer to blunt the sharp edges of Elrond's alert state. He shakes his head, rubbing at the corner of his eye.] I just...couldn't sleep. That's all.

[A chill blows in through the open window. Spring starts later up north, and the night still carries a touch of winter. Though Wilhelm shivers, the cold feels good on his sweaty skin.]

[politicians]

[ elrond hums softly, glancing at the window. the stars remain unfamiliar, but they are not cold. and they are still here. ]

Not being able to sleep does not sound like a little problem.

[ordinar]

[He seems to soften as Elrond validates his struggle. He's spent so much of his life telling himself that it's not that hard, that he should be able to handle it — that Elrond's disagreement is thunderous. Sometimes all you need to hear is, yes, it is a problem. It is that hard, and it's okay that you can't carry it all. His fingers tense and flex on his knees.]

I thought that potion we got would help, but...maybe I didn't take enough.

[He thought he would try to ration it, to make the bottle last longer.]

[politicians]

[ elrond gazes at him for a moment, long and thoughtful. ]

Or it is possibly you are becoming inured to it. Such things are a stop gap. Even elvish medicine cannot soothe it all away.

[ordinar]

What do you do then?

[Though they're the only two in the room, Wilhelm holds his voice low as if worried he might wake someone up. He means you in the general sense, but also in the specific. Elrond had endured that hell too. Among so many things stuck in the trap of his mind, he can remember how his friend had dimmed to a scared shadow of himself. How those growths devoured his skin, just like in his nightmares.]