rosavelle | 02 🐣 HYJ: December Catch-all

02 🐣 HYJ: December Catch-all

Who: Ya boy Yoojin

monsterdaddy, all open prompts (so far)
When: Dec. 1-31
Where: Dawnfield Grounds (Castle), anywhere anyone's working with textiles, Tulip Barracks/Greenhouse (Castle)
What: It's a rough time of year for South Korea's most codependent older brother, and like anyone with healthy coping skills, Yoojin's burying himself in distractions. It's good to exercise your body and stretch your brain learning new skills! ...What do you mean, ignoring the problem makes it worse?
Warnings: Hella My S-Classes spoilers, a panic attack/acute mental distress, and alcohol mentioned in the Dec. 24-25 greenhouse prompt. Also Yoojin and Bulat go to the men's baths together.

A. What a Pain in the Necksercise (Dawnfield Grounds, first half of the month)

[Whatever Yoojin's doing this chilly Wilting morning--be it cardio, rehab stretches for his leg, or general strength training, and whether he's alone or has a workout buddy--all of a sudden, he stops doing it. Panting, wheezing, he lowers himself to his knees, pitches front-first into the snow, and, before anyone can worry there's something seriously wrong, rolls onto his back to COMPLAIN.]

I can't. I can't! I can't, I'm telling you, my body doesn't do that and no one can make it!

[Still, he has the strength to throw a tantrum about it, apparently.]

B. Patchy Work (Around Primavain and the Castle, Dec. 14-21ish)

(Cut for length)

[The longer the nights become, the more distracted and distant Yoojin acts. Even playing all day with the kids at Little Buds Atelier doesn't fully take the edge off his subtle, restless unhappiness. He's quick to shake it off when addressed; he seems fine as long as he's engaged with something. But left to his own devices, Yoojin often ends up staring blankly at nothing in particular.

At one point mid-month, he looks down at his cardigan--one of those signature hot pink pieces of knitwear he puts on when he's not worried about maintaining the noble ruse--and thoughtfully fingers its edge.

Sung Hyunje isn't a maker like Yoo Myungwoo. He's the strongest combat-class S-ranker in the world. Yet he was still able to create this, an item with an SS-rank skill effect, with nothing but dyed wool from dungeon sheep and a pair of needles Yoojin bought him as a joke. So even if Yoojin has no aptitude for it, even if he's not Mr. Perfect Guildmaster-Who-Can-Do-Everything...

If there's a whole school of magic here dedicated to something similar--if he works at it, like Myungwoo diligently sharpening 10,000 knives, one by one, on his foot-powered grinding stone--shouldn't he get something out of it? With no talent, it won't be like acquiring an optimal skill. It probably won't be any better than F-rank. But that's not nothing, right? If Yoojin could, himself, create something to give his loved ones, something tangible that will stay with them even when they're apart, that could transfer them just a little bit of warmth or protection... shouldn't he at least try?

Not knitting, though. Seriously, he does not need to be comparing his own work to Sung Hyunje's, ever. He should build on something he already knows how to do. Sewing, maybe? Yoojin's not good at it by any means, but as long as he follows a pattern and practices, even he should improve. Right, there was that tomato charm embroidered onto Bulat's pillow in the infirmary, so, hm, maybe...]

[Musings like that lead to Yoojin poking his head into Marigold Hall and String & Soul, or coming to attention when he sees someone working with fabric around the castle. He might have a basket on his arm. It might be adorable.]

Oh, hey! I mean, excuse me. [He clears his throat.] I'm thinking of taking up a crafting project. If you have any, ah, scraps you can't do anything else with, or even fluff or loose ends--or you end up with stuff that as you go--I'd be happy to take them off your hands. I-it can be an exchange if you want!

C. Won't Be Home for Christmas (Tulip barracks --> Everbloom Greenhouse, very, very late on Dec. 24/very, very early Dec. 25)

(Cut for length; CW: panic attack, alcohol mentioned)

[Gasping, Yoojin hurls the winter blankets off himself and lurches upright in the middle of his bed. He's both sweating and shivering, and it takes a few moments for the slightly floral air and the feel of the sheets clutched in his frozen fingers to remind him where he is. Rosavelle. It's been almost two months, and he's still here.

The nightmares were getting better. As his leg healed, at least he'd stopped dreaming so much about the miserable five years he'd wound back. About limping through life with his head low, trying to avoid the kicks and curses. But tonight--tonight--

The stench of venom, blood, and scorched rock still burns in his nostrils. Strangely, so does the reek of soju and his own bitter resentment. So does the frigid bite of snow in the air, as sharp against his throat as a knife.

His own voice haunts him. 'Happy birthday... you big jerk of a brother...'

Yoojin takes a shuddering breath, smothers a small noise into his clammy palm. He has to get out of here. He has to go--somewhere else--

To the closest place he can get to Yoohyun.]

[He throws on the jacket that boosts the rank of his stealth skill to S and sneaks out of Tulip, nigh imperceptible. Still, with his cane (he hasn't needed it lately, but he can hardly walk now), he leaves a distinctive trail in the snow: footprint, footprint, small divot. Footprint, footprint, small divot, repeated until they reach the entrance to the Everbloom's greenhouse.

There. Yoojin finds his plot, finds the azure flowers blooming there, untouched by the cold outside--like plum blossoms that never lose their scent. He releases his skill and lowers himself to his knees before the flowers, letting out a shaking breath.

He knows what day it is, roughly. What it'd be on Earth, anyway. Given how poorly as he's been sleeping, he's been awake to notice how short the days are, how long the nights. Even if his haphazard math, more instinct than calculation, isn't accurate, who can say that he's wrong? In this place so unfathomably far from home, the only calendar that marks Han Yoohyun's birth is the one written into Yoojin.

Rationally, he knows he hasn't missed the date. As far as his world is concerned, he isn't even gone. But.

'It's probably better that we don't have to worry about people back home missing us but... it doesn't help us when we're missing them, huh?']

Yoohyun--

[Some frayed, slender thread pulled breathlessly tight inside Yoojin finally snaps. A low noise burbles out of him. Then another. Yoojin's back bows until his hands touch the earth, and further still, until his hair brushes the ground with each sob. Yoojin cries in earnest, not like a man whose heart is breaking, but like a child, abandoned and alone in the cold.

He didn't want to miss his brother's birthday again. A ninth Christmas in a row.

He didn't want one more orphaned year that no one will remember when he returns, but him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Some guys sure have a tough time wanting certain things. Couldn't be him. ]

Don't worry about it. There's nothing wrong with a more intimate touch.

[ And the usual from this side as well. The low bedroom voice might be a product of being genuinely blissed out, but he's perfectly aware how he sounds. ]

[There is nary a coherent thought in Yoojin's head, only teakettle noises and a wealth of new sensory information on the trapezius muscle.

His face is hot. His hands are hot, too, and clumsy as he grabs a washcloth and works up a truly unnecessary head of lather on it.]

No, no, this is better. It, um. Exfoliates or. Something.

[At least, when he gets back to work, he is no less gentle and thorough for how loudly he's screaming internally.]

[ Yoojin's helping him out. Bulat does him the favor of not turning around to get a good look at what his face is doing right now. He can picture it quite well at this point, anyway. ]

Is that the case? Thanks for thinking about how bright and smooth my skin's going to look after you're through with me.

[ Being taken care of feels awfully good even through cloth. Despite the pleasant haze he's let himself drop into, his back's so firm that Yoojin could lean his full weight on it and he wouldn't budge a millimeter. ]

S-skincare is important in Korean culture.

[Yoojin has never been so glad of his ability to talk nonsense in any situation. He keeps going, scrubbing the washcloth with care over the planes and gentle curves of Bulat's back. In an attempt to focus, he tries to imagine how it feels to Bulat, the cloth making its way across expanses of well-earned muscle, wiping away the morning's efforts to leave skin fresh and clean. Then Yoojin wonders why he thought that would help him focus at all. He clears his throat.]

Okay, all done.

[Pink in the face, ears, and down his neck and shoulders, Yoojin turns back to his own station. Uh, where was he? What does he still need to do?]

[ There's a certain satisfaction to a layer of sweat earned through effort, and another type to having it scraped away, under either his own power or someone's loving care. ]

Ahhhh... You wouldn't believe how good that felt. Or maybe you would - want me to get yours?

[ Bulat's greatly underestimating the amount of time it's been since Yoojin cared for someone else in this particular way. He is, however, probably in the right ballpark about how long it's been since big bro was on the other side of it. He could stand to get some understanding of just how nice it is.

He shoots a glance over. It's entirely possible that color's from the heat, he supposes, in the same way that hoofbeats in the distance could be a zebra and not a horse. ]

[Yoojin pauses mid-motion, then brings his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing at his neatly trimmed hairline.]

...Sure. Yeah, that'd be nice.

[He leaves his hand at the back of his skull for a second longer, then finally turns in his seat and lets it fall. All along the length of his spine, etched from the nape of his neck down to his waist, stretches an... inscription. Landing somewhere between circuitry and an arcane pattern, it's clearly more than ink. Were Bulat to run a finger over it, he'd feel it, where it sinks into his skin like the most precise, delicate carving. Here and there, where it catches the light, it reflects a silvery, metallic shimmer.

It cuts a striking contrast against his fair skin and the warm flush at his neck and ears.]

Ah, so that's what you were worried about. Demon's Extract has an effect like this.

[ Of course he's going to touch it - fingertips right under Yoojin's hairline, turning into the full expanse of Bulat's broad hand running firmly down his back. He's paying just enough attention to the warmth and texture of Yoojin's skin as he is the contrast with the mysterious engraving. Engraving might be the word here - was it carved in?

It could be anything from a useful item too important
to risk losing, to an experimental brand carved in there by an enemy for unsavory purposes. His concession to the latter possibility is keeping his voice on the softer side of jovial. ]

But you're the only one here who would know what it is. All I can tell is that it's, ah, a good look on you. Very handsome!

[ He was going to say gorgeous and then choked. Bulat does not have normal comfort zones. ]

[Yoojin inhales, then lets the air out slow and slightly shivery as Bulat's hand travels down his back. No one, as far as he can remember, has touched the inscription since he had it done. No, more than that, the warm span of Bulat's palm across his bare skin, his awareness of being explored--has he ever been touched like this, ever? His heart races like a rabbit's in his chest.

He swallows.]

It's called a mana inscription. I got it to help me sense and control mana the way some high-rankers can, though... well, I can't use it that well.

[After a beat, Yoojin peeks at Bulat over his shoulder.]

Does it look cool, really? I don't actually know what one this long looks like. [A little wryly:] Haven't figured out a way to put eyes in the back of my head yet.

[Well, technically, there's a skill he could use for that, if he wanted. Or he could have taken a picture in the mirror. Yoojin just hasn't had any interest in looking at his own body in years; as long as it gets him from one moment to the next, he has more important things to keep his eyes on.]

[ Oh, good. So there's only the normal Yoojin inferiority complex attached here. If Bulat wanted to look at a muscular, sculpted body (he does), he could look in a mirror himself (he habitually does). Yoojin's is fascinating by virtue of what he's willing to put it through in the name of his goals. That said, Bulat's looking forward to what a few more months of morning fitness drills are going to do to him. Pushups are also a manifestation of going through hell in the name of self-improvement!

He traces a few coils of it more precisely, before lathering up the washcloth and actually going about the business of his original offer. ]

Very cool! I've always thought that was an important quality for high-difficulty Teigu - enjoying the way it looks is an important part of synching up, thinking of it as an extension of yourself you can use just as easy as your own hands! I'll sketch it out for you sometime; that might give you a solid boost at bonding with it.

[ His scrubbing technique isn't quite as gentle as Yoojin's, but it's no less thorough. Firm pressure with the cloth, a stabilizing hand on his shoulder so he doesn't knock him clean off the stool. Hard work is vital, and tender care is vital to maintaining that work! Ulterior motives for getting his hands on Yoojin aside, he's proud of him for giving it his all. ]

Hmmm...

[He's never thought of the mana inscription as something he has to bond with to use properly. In the VR dungeon, it was a clinical procedure, a tool; often, it was a tool that turned people into tools for others to use and discard. That's not the case for Yoojin's, but it came pretty damn close.

If he thinks of it as something like Changeling, though--something strange but living, not quite part of him, but still sharing resources and real estate--if he treats it like one more thing to tend, will Yoojin be able to use it without the backlash? Even if it's orders of magnitude too powerful for him? He's a lot better at bonding with others than improving himself, so the idea's seriously compelling.]

Maybe. It's worth a try.

[The practical puzzle of it gives him something to focus on besides the cloth wiping him down (and what actually commands more of his attention, the hand holding him steadily in place), and that allows the rhythmic motion, the warmth, and the pleasant feeling of getting clean to work their relaxing magic. As much as Yoojin ever truly seems to relax, and as much as he can, when Bulat's someone he naturally wants to be alert and pay attention to.

Regardless, some of the usual nosy--or hypervigilant--energy seems to scrub away with the morning's sweat, under Bulat's care. Yoojin lets the weight of his upper body rest on his elbows, which rest in turn on his knees.]

I don't think you've told me about those before. "Teigu." Are they like items bound to a single user? Or more... alive than that?

That first one, mostly. Some are more alive than others.

[ His voice takes on a rhythmic cadence as he scrubs, removing the sweat and dead skin that's served a fine purpose. This is a story he first heard as a child, and it flows off his tongue fondly. He has enough attention to spare to take note of which areas of Yoojin's back and shoulders are particularly knotted up, or possibly which rare areas are not, given the life he's led up until a few months ago.

It's satisfying to feel him slowly relaxing as much as he is under his hands, but he could be moreso. Bulat is someone who never stops chasing improvement, in all of its forms. ]

A thousand years ago, the first emperor was a strong man with a strong heart. He cared deeply for his people, and he worried about what might become of them after he died, as all men must. He brought together all the wisest alchemists and sages under his command. Gathered the best materials from all corners of the empire. Rare metals, Special-Class Danger Beasts, secrets of crafting lost to the ages. By the time of his death, he'd created forty-eight legendary artifacts to protect the Empire. Others have tried, but in a thousand years, not one person has made a weapon to equal the Teigu, the Imperial Arms.

[Latest My S-Classes chapter I read literally goes into how knotted up his back muscles are from overwork. Bulat's assumption ain't wrong.

As Yoojin listens, lulled by Bulat's storytelling voice, two pieces of information slide into place: what Bulat said about his favorite Danger Beast, and a skill of his that caught Yoojin's attention.]

That's what happened to Incursio, isn't it? You said Tyrants keep fighting, even when they're made into materials. The emperor turned him into one of those Teigu?

[Demon Armor: Incursio. A skill Bulat can't access--or can't access here.]

[ A sharp mind even at rest. Yoojin's official stats might be low, but the ones that can't be boiled down to numbers are pretty good! Bulat presses his thumb reeeal hard into a spot on his shoulder that really needs it, as a reward. Whether it feels like a reward for the first ten seconds is debatable. ]

So you remembered my favorite beast! Yeah, he's one of the strongest around, and one of the pickiest. Most Teigu, if they don't like their partner, simply won't use their extra powers. Some fight back until they're released to find someone they like better. Incursio's rejections always kill.

[ He sounds more serious towards the end, but a fond, loving brand of serious. He willingly stepped into the jaws of this particular monster for years, and it never let him down, or vice versa.

...A little at the end, but that was a group effort. ]

'Course I r--ah, angh! Ack, ow ow ow.

[Oh god oh shit he's dying, fuck, this is how he dies! Yoojin grabs onto both sides of his stool, tries reflexively to lean forward, away from the deep press, and puts everything into keeping his mouth ground shut. The noises he'd make otherwise do not bear thinking about. He has little enough pride as it is.

After a second he manages a quick little breath in.]

Bulat, could you--nnh, agh--could you please go a little easier on this F-rank body? I'm fragile, fragillllle!

[The words turn sort of whimpery at the end, there, but god, he can feel that all the way to his pinky finger and halfway down the back of his leg. He deserves points for any coherence at all!]

Trust me on this, you're tough enough to take it.

[ The pressure does ease up a little - just a little, as he upgrades to grinding away at his target in slow, steady circles. ]

Take a deep breath and relax; it'll start feeling good once you let it.

[ This is advice he's given to others in a different context, but it's a very similar warm, sultry delivery. ]

[Rude and confusing of Bulat to use that voice on someone he's torturing!!!]

Hhh, shit...

[The dig of Bulat's thumb into and across those tight, sore, crackly-feeling muscle fibers drags a groan out of Yoojin, but that's the end of his complaining. It takes a couple circles for the stiff pain to start giving way to relief. When it does, Yoojin grunts again and finally loosens up as advised.]

...I guess... ngh. I guess that makes sense. About you, and Incursio.

[ Torture? Excuse you, this is tough love!! Bulat kneads him like a loaf of groaning bread dough, but tenderly, once the worst tangle is breaking down. ]

Oh, well done!

[ The praise is for a number of things, including that sharp thinking. He can see where Yoojin put the pieces together with all the information that Bulat thinks he has. ]

So you've worked out that we were partners, huh? It's not a huge secret; but I like living in a city where my abilities and feats aren't on public record.

[Usually, kneading dough makes dough stronger by helping the gluten form. Yoojin's experience, however, is definitely turning more to the "ohhhh I'm melllltiiinnnggg" side. Somehow, he managed to get up and walk after their workout this morning; a repeat performance after this may well end up beyond him.]

Oh. Yeah. Me too.

[A couple beats, and Yoojin must think it's a problem, because he turns his head slightly.]

Sorry. I'm nosy, and... I like knowing that stuff. About people's talents and powers, or special items--mmnh, or dangerous beasties, obviously. Heh.

[No one on Earth knows better than Yoojin that it's in a Hunter's best interest to keep certain information close to their chest. It can't be that different for Bulat. He should feel bad for snooping.]

I guess it's like a hobby? It overlaps with work, too, but most people's jobs and interests intersect somewhere.

[ Gathering information is a survival instinct as much as concealing it is. Bulat would be more worried if they weren't from extremely different spheres... Should he be more worried? Is he being charmed into complacency? It's wise to evaluate these things. ]

I won't hold it against you. My job comes with a few bad habits, too.

[ He cracks into another one of Yoojin's tenser points while his guard is down, illustrating his point. ]

You can ask me more, while we soak.

Rraauughghghh. Hnnh.

[Eloquent. Should Bulat be more worried? He could clearly snap Yoojin in two with his fingers if he wanted. Swallowing another whine--nope, scratch that, he's still whining, just with words.]

I won't if you're gonna do that to me for it. [Even if he recognizes that it's helping.] Ugh, what am I, a cut of beef to tenderize? Ah, no, wait, looking at me, it's gotta be chicken, right?

[ The background evaluation of how easy it would be to break Yoojin in half the non-fun way is one of those bad habits. Bulat might act carelessly casual with his immense strength, but he's very controlled about how much he's actually using. ]

I don't know about that; you haven't chickened out yet! A cut of weasel, maybe?

[ He does not deny the tenderizing allegations. ]

Weasel! Hah, well--oogh--that's one I've heard before, at least. Don't think they make good eating, though, no matter how well prepped.

[Too small, too stringy, too stinky. Mustelids share a superfamily with skunks and have a similar scent gland. The more you know!

Perhaps reluctantly, Yoojin finally leans away from Bulat's hands.]

Okay, okay. You gotta stop, or I'm not gonna make it to the water. Or I will, but I'll just slide under and drown. R.I.P. me.

Heh. All right, all right~ I'll work you over until you're ready to eat some other time.

[ If you want the pelt, you'd better eat the whole ermine. This is Bulat's philosophy. He rises up from his kneel with another long streeeetch and sigh. ]

[He looks up, and once more, it looks like Yoojin might get it, might actually pick up what Bulat's been putting down, not subtly, for weeks. The notion is like a basketball circling the rim of a net, starting to tip inward just so--

But centrifugal force is a bastard experienced from a non-inertial frame of reference, poorly understood by the common man, and the ball sails off yet again to no score. That is, it doesn't sink in. sports.

By this point, Yoojin's seen some of the guys Bulat really flirts with--guys like Verso and Astarion. Yoojin doesn't have that much in common with them. Therefore, Bulat must just be joking around with him, being nice so he doesn't feel left out. Which is nice. So. Nothing to complain about here.

Yoojin re-secures his towel and gets up, rolling his shoulders. Wow, that really did something, huh? Dang. Maybe he actually should ask Bulat to do that again sometime, but in exchange for what? Hmm.]

I dunno, dude, I doubt I'm all that tasty. No nutritional value, either. Most that try to take a bite out of me end up spitting it back out.

[ Melancholy men with dark secrets and a literal body count? Bulat has been more consistent than anyone might guess, including him.

Sigh. The crackling potential has bounced off across the court somewhere, but he hasn't given up hope. ]

Their loss. I'd swallow.

[ In further contrast, Bulat's towel is secured by being tossed on the rocks around the pool. It's certainly not going anywhere now!

The view from behind, before he steps in and sinks down into luxurious heat, continues to be just as well-defined and chiseled as it was above the waist. Fortunately(?), the tree-trunk thighs block out any flash of non-sports balls. ]

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