i'm faithless now

[specifiercity]

Who: Arthur (specifiercity) & Asami Sato (futureinventor)
What: Event & General prompts for November!
When: Throughout November
Where: All over! I'll update here for the open prompts!

Content Warnings: event warnings generally apply, a little bit of Arthur's PTSD getting triggered (within the event)

[if you wanna plot with me hit me up at dreamalittlebigger!]

Comments

for faolan / late november

[specifiercity]

[It takes Arthur about a week to be able to leave the house. He's exhausted from his own nightmares and having to fight Eames into resting, and the dark circles under his eyes do more than enough to show it.]

[And to think, he was really starting to settle into life here.]

[Fucking Sleeper farm.]

[Anyway, one of his first stops is to track down Faolan, getting his omen to scout him out and showing up unannounced at his door sometime in the late afternoon one day. He has a bottle of what he hopes is half decent whiskey in his hand, shoulders slouched miserably as he waits.]

[reticence]

[Despite the fact that Anduin has left the city over a month ago, Faolan still finds himself haunting his house. Haunting perhaps being the most accurate word -- given the fact that there are two men here from Anduin's homeworld, despite the fact that he has lived in this house the longest, he does feel as though he is not entirely welcome in this mansion of a house anymore.

When a knock comes at the door, he half expects for it to be one of his two other housemates -- even despite the fact that the one seems too secretive to have visitors and the other, well. He hasn't gotten a good read off of Fairwind, truth be told. Neither of them seem to be in though so when it comes again, he drags himself to the front door, raising his eyebrows in response to the figure that stands before him.]

Arthur. I don't suppose you're here to check up on me again...?

[A joke. That was supposed to be a joke.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur lets out a breathless, amused sound, a little caught off guard by the comment. He shakes his head and holds up the bottle awkwardly.]

No, I uh... came to say thank you. Hope you like to drink.

[Also he really needed to get out of the house. Like it's fine if you don't invite him in but please invite him in.]

[reticence]

[Faolan can't help but raise his eyebrows in response to that, though he reaches out to take the bottle from the other man as he's offered it.]

Thank me?

[Of course he'll invite him in. He's already stepping back inside the house and ushering Arthur inside after him. He's hardly the best host. That was certainly more Anduin's area of expertise. But he can certainly show him to the kitchen and fetch him a drink himself, as he's come all this way.]

Come on, then. Would you like any yourself? [He holds up the bottle in question.] Or... Tea?

[specifiercity]

[It's a relief he didn't know was coming when Faolan invites him in. He gives him a tight, awkward smile at the offer.]

Uh, whatever you're having is fine.

[He stuffs his hands in his pockets and follows Faolan through.]

It's for Eames. He's still recovering, but I wanted to... you know.

[Is he too tired for words? Yes.]

[reticence]

Eames?

[He casts a glance over his shoulder at the other man as he leads him through the house. He supposes it makes sense that the pair of them know each other. They both are from that same world -- the one where they had known the other version of him. He's still curious about the finer details of their acquaintance but he supposes that those details can wait. Especially given...

Eames.

He frowns for a moment, fighting himself not to remember too much about the experience of their time together there, in that tower together.]

That is good to hear. It was... [He casts another glance at Arthur before shaking his head. If Arthur was there, he needn't explain it to him, and if he was not... There are some things that are better left unsaid.] I am glad to hear that he is recovering. Here.

[Faolan leads him through into the kitchen. It's probably a little outdated for Arthur's comfort levels, but Faolan feels more at home here than he does in most of the rest of the city. He gestures him towards a seat at the table before crossing to the cabinet to fetch down a pair of glasses and moving to open the whiskey. He hesitates for a long moment, as he moves to pour them both a healthy tumbler each, before he says:]

I did my best for him. To get him out of that place. I am sorry that I was not able to do more.

[specifiercity]

[Arthur pulls out a chair and sits down, looking a little more alert as he looks around curiously at the kitchen. It's definitely not the strangest thing he's seen in Deerington or Trench by far, but perhaps it's made stranger by the fact that Faolan is so at home in it. It distracts him from Faolan's hesitation, but he looks at him again when he's spoken to.]

[He shrugs and shakes his head, dismissing the apology.]

I'm just glad someone got him out before anything worse happened. He's not keen on taking the rest he needs but it's probably better than whatever happens after you... [he gestures vaguely. does he want to acknowledge the possibility of death? no.]

[reticence]

[Faolan puts the cap back on the whiskey and turns to the table, setting one of the tumblers down in front of Arthur before sitting down across from him with his own. He takes one careful sip before setting the glass down and raising one observant eyebrow at his companion.]

You seem like you could take a little of that advice there yourself.

[He's not exactly asking what's wrong, but. He's offering a glass of whiskey and a willing ear to listen, which amounts to nearly the same thing, as far as men like him are concerned.]

[specifiercity]

[He smirks and shakes his head, staring down into his drink.]

I've tried to sleep, believe me.

[He takes a sip of the whiskey and sighs.]

I only get a couple hours at a time.

[reticence]

[This sounds... Troublesomely familiar, really. Faolan cannot remember the last time he himself had a whole night of uninterrupted sleep. There are reasons why he volunteers as bodyguard on night shifts. And any other shifts he can get. Why he pushes himself as hard as he does, as often as is possible. He needs to stay busy, to wear himself out, or else his mind will have time to catch up with -- everything.

He studies the other man across the table for a long moment before he asks:]

Because of the Tower?

[He supposes that they have been calling it the Farm, but he would prefer not to think of it in such a way himself.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur nods in his resigned sort of way, his jaw tightening a little as it does whenever he has a brush with vulnerability.]

The Farm, yeah. I was stuck in there for a little while too.