travelerscurse | for whatsina

It's so strange, being back.

Ishgard hasn't changed in hundreds of years, strange to think it would have changed since he'd been here last, but then, everywhere else he'd been has changed just in the time he's been there. So it's strange to be walking streets he knows from his childhood but with eyes that are so different.

Beside him, Emmanelain chatters on about the different facets of city life. He had made sure Haurchefant knew to petition his former family with as much discretion as possible. They, of course, had simply said their son had died and they were certain some fugitive from Uldah couldn't be him anyway. He hadn't expected any differently. He feels like that person is dead and he breathes on as someone wholly different anyway, but it's strange, to be being shown around the place he grew up in by a member of one of the High Houses, someone his parents would have killed for him to be friends with just a few short years earlier, as though he were a stranger to this place.

He has always been a stranger to this place.

Dressed in Gridanian fashion and tanned lightly by the sun, he doesn't expect there's anyone here who would recognize him. He'd been barely more than a ghost when he left, hardly a warrior of anything. But as they pass through the Jeweled Croizer and Emmanelain gets caught up talking to some girl he's been trying to woo, there's a sudden, strange sensation at the back of his head, something like and unlike the Echo, and he turns, eyes scanning the busy street for... something. Someone.

(For some reason, unbidden, he remembers the night of the Calamity, giant pieces of some other part of Eorzea raining from the sky..

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"We haven't," he says, though his is a tone more that he hasn't really considered it, and perhaps the next thing he says is why, "I haven't sung like that in... a long while."

An incredibly long while. Not quite before the world was sundered, but close. (No time for 'foolishness' once it was on them to save their world, a certain Paragon might have told him.)

"Well, I meant more prosaically, even. By the time we met again, I was a bit too infamous to be singing in taverns for the most part. But I wouldn't mind hearing you sing like that again, either." He can't help the smirk, of course, "Though perhaps this time, it could be somewhere a little more private."

"I'm quite rusty," Phillip warns him, but at the same time he tilts their heads together, drawing more attention to their closeness, "...but I wouldn't mind either. More private than this, or?"

...He's genuinely not sure. Fucking around with dynamic during the Final Days may not be the best idea in a city, but it probably wouldn't go too badly- he's smart enough not to sing about despair, thanks.

He doesn't really understand that the singing is powered by dynamis, because how could he possibly, but he does react with surprise about the offer to do so now, nevertheless.

"I'm not entirely sure I have a good song in me right now, honestly. Maybe after I sleep for a million years. All of this has been barely even a day and a half for me, and I haven't slept since I got back," practicalities first, for all he pushes himself, but then he does add, "If you want to help me get cleaned up and then sing me to sleep, though, I'm not going to complain."

He does the thing where he clearly means a bath and to sleep and also very clearly is including sex in there somewhere.

Phillip chuckles. "I can certainly help with that," he says quietly, arm around the other man's waist. He probably doesn't actually need the help getting to the bathroom, strictly speaking, but it certainly couldn't hurt after all he's been through.

He doesn't need it, but he takes it all the same, Phillip one of the few people allowed to see him like this, to offer this kind of comfort and have it accepted so easily. From someone else, he's able to graciously accept what's needed, and mostly knows the difference between needed and merely wanted. Mostly. But with Phillip, there's no hesitation to lean his weight into him, all but let him carry him to the bathroom.

If left to his own devices, he'll run a bath and put some relaxing oils into it, the tub here a little spartan and small but big enough to at least somewhat soak (and to somewhat disguise the fact that he's not really sure that he's able to stand up through a shower) but if Phillip takes the lead on that, he'll just slump against the wall instead while he works, perfectly happy to turn even that over the the other man.

Phillip's glad he does, because Gustavain's entire life would probably be more needlessly difficult if he didn't accept it from someone. And, on the selfish angle, he's glad it's him.

He will draw a bath, just because from a comfort angle that sounds more relaxing, with what oils he can find nearby. He won't join him in it- it's too small for that, but he might sit behind him on the edge, toeing the line between teasing and genuine care to help get his hair suds up.

He's a little too tired to genuinely be teased all that much, but he leans into the touches with an appreciative hum, lets himself just kind of drift a little bit and be cared for, head resting on the tiles or on Phillip's shoulder, depending on which is easier for whatever is happening. He probably soaks his shirt with water, but he's past caring if Phillip doesn't scold him for it.

He's not actually all that dirty, it turns out. Whatever had happened in the past, he'd actually left it in the past, even though he felt like he could still feel it all on his skin. But the act of washing off what was really only a few hours of life does wonders for letting him release from the pressure and burden.

It's more 'teasing' in the 'Phillip still has a hard time not being a bit of a brat', so there's very little Gustavain would need to respond to it with, the result more playful than trying to get any kind of rise out of him.

His shirt is definitely soaking, but the solution is just to get rid of it, which is hardly a disaster. He'll linger for however long Gustavain wants to soak, mussing with his wet hair or possibly trying to work out a tension in his neck or shoulders, depending on how relaxed the man seems inclined to be.

Gustavain doesn't show any desire to stop Phillip from continuing to fuss over him, but when Phillip kneads his fingers into his shoulders he finally does seem to rouse himself from the half-daze he's sunk into.

"You should probably stop that unless you want to try to carry me to bed," it's teasing, but the words slur from tiredness slightly and he's unsteady on his feet when he does finally rise out of the water. He's right on the cusp of needing Phillip to help dry him off and get him into bed, though at least it looks more like it's the physical exhaustion at this point rather than mental.

"I'd probably manage, but maybe best not to test," he says, withdrawing and offering a hand and support to help get the man out of the tub. The fact that the exhaustion is physical now is actually somewhat reassuring- at least his body has caught up enough that the adrenaline is wearing off.

Unless for some reason Gustavain wants them, Phillip sees no need to bother with trying to get him clothes, so instead it's just a towel and the effort to get him dry before depositing the both of them on the bed.

Gus will often sleep in some kind of sleepwear, though the choice usually leaves little to the imagination. Old habits die hard, and Ishgard is cold, after all, even before the Calamity. But he certainly doesn't need it for modesty reasons. And he's too tired to bother with it if Phillip doesn't directly aim him towards dressing, so he's quickly under the covers, warm and a little clinging and if he's trying distractedly to get Phillip the rest of the way undressed while he's barely holding on to being awake himself, well, at least it's not out of character for him.

Cute. Phillip obliges, the rest of his clothes removed before he slips under the covers with the other man, arms wrapped around him and petting his hair. Unless Gustavain suddenly regains quite a bit of energy, he's pretty sleep is what's going to happen first.

But then again, he wouldn't exactly be surprised if it wasn't.

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