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[abrightboy]

 This is Bright. Leave a message.

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Re: Audio

[abrightboy]

Good night, Florian. I’ll talk to you soon.

[abrightboy]

Sort of. I mean. Wardens who have Warden friends will... confer. But no. Not as organized as I would like. I'm sort of working on something that I might present if I can get it... tweaked.

[hippie_ninja]

Tweaked how? What's your idea for all this?

[conning]

Neal strokes Malcolm's hair back behind his ear gently, then keeps running his fingers through Malcolm's hair, trying to focus on the feel of it under his fingertips rather than the way his whole body aches. Occasionally flares with agony. He can't help flinching and grimacing through those moments.

"No," he says, soft and pained. "No, but you're far from the only one. Far from the only one. It's just a lot harder to find that in the places you've gone throughout your life. Find the people who struggle that way. Your friend Edrisa would understand I think. I do, to a degree. I'm just... better at lying my way through conversations."

[conning]

Not yet. I've been avoiding it. I shouldn't.

[abrightboy]

"I liked it. When I felt like I fit in," Malcolm says softly. "You should call Gaius and get the healing. He'll heal you up as soon as you get hurt. If it didn't kill you instantly, you wouldn't have died. Plus when people hit you in the face, it makes them mad that it only hurts for a minute."

[abrightboy]

You'll feel better if you straighten things out.

[conning]

That last part makes him smirk. "Good. Bitch."

He doesn't like that word, generally, and very much doesn't like using it against women, but in this particular moment of weakness he lets himself have it.

As for the healing-- "I don't know how I feel about it, the idea of letting someone else have that kind of influence over me."

[abrightboy]

"I didn't like that idea either, but then the whole throat thing and... now I'm a wolf. So. It's not that bad."

Except for losing his mentor so early and not being able to find it in himself to ask someone else, even if that someone is as delightful as Iris.

"Plus people who care about you would worry less. That was a big factor for me." Will not feeling like he has to kill someone for killing him is a big factor for him.

[conning]

"That would be good, people worrying less." Neal closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. "I just don't know if I can do it. If mentally I can. I've spent too long making sure I--"

He cuts himself off with a small gasp of pain, screwing one eye shut and squeezing Malcolm's hand too tightly as he tries to ride it out.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm frowns faintly, but he doesn't wince like most people might.

"...You don't have to. Obviously. ......Are you okay? Can I do anything?"

[conning]

"I know." He braces his way through that pain, forgetting to breathe, but he relaxes slowly after it fades. He's sweating like mad. "Ow."

Neal gives himself a moment to recover. "I don't tend to even drink much, when I do drink. I don't like the feeling that my body doesn't belong to me."

[conning]

Probably. [Or he'll have burned the last bridge he had to make it back to trust.]

I've never heard bones breaking like that before.

[As soon as the words are out, Neal is embarrassed to have said them.]

[abrightboy]

….Bones breaking? Oh! When Lestat’s breachform fell down the stairs? The thing about bones is that they have a little give in them if the person they belong to isn’t elderly. They bend before they snap or crack, which is what gives the sound that unique….. sorry. Yeah. That can be……….. disconcerting.

[abrightboy]

"If it helps at all, you don't feel anything. I feel the same," Malcolm tells him.

THERAPY SESSION 2, around the 21st/a week after Holegate

[junoit]

Hera set an appointment for mid-August, two weeks after the first, since that seemed like an acceptable amount of time.

And then the barge exploded and Eiffel was killed and she thought it best to reschedule.

She comes knocking on Malcolm's door at the newly-chosen time, clearly distracted.

[abrightboy]

Unless otherwise requested, Malcolm meets his few counselling clients in his office. His door is open when she knocks on the frame and he looks up. He smiles warmly.

“Come in,” he tells her. “Have a seat.” He considers her for a moment. He can see there’s something on her mind, but he waits for her to speak.

He’s told he talks too much.

[junoit]

She does, fidgeting a little, actually waiting for him to start before she finally does.

"Clothes." Er. "You asked me to think of something I like about this."

She gestures at herself. "That's an easy one. I like clothes."

[abrightboy]

He smiles again. “What do you like about clothes?”

[junoit]

"The colors, the way they move, the way they look, how they feel. Well, how a lot of them feel. Some of them I can't stand."

Not really intending to prove her own point, she reaches down to give her skirt a little swish. "I like how easy it is to change them."

[abrightboy]

“Do you think being able to change them and choose them contributes to the feeling of being an individual?” Malcolm asks.

[junoit]

She considers that. "I suppose. I like how easy it is to change your appearance. And the way different colors have different feels to them, not in terms of texture, but in terms of--well, the mental texture, I guess?"

[abrightboy]

"Do you mean emotionally?" Malcolm asks.

[junoit]

She considers that a moment, surprised. "Oh. Yeah. I guess I do. ...Man, there are so many things that set off emotional responses, how do people keep it all straight and organized and not. Confusing? More confusing than emotions already tend to be."

[abrightboy]

“We don’t. Why do you think we invented counselling offices?” Malcolm points out.