come_sailaway | just follow my yellow light (Ossie & Giles, + unread inbox)

just follow my yellow light (Ossie & Giles, + unread inbox)

Who: Dimitri, Ossie & Giles ... you?
When: Post-event, early September
Where: Dimitri's inbox, the library, the cottage
What: After his berserker episode at the diner, Dimitri does a disappearing act: he skips out on the infirmary inadvisably early and goes full cryptid, dodging all contact human or otherwise. Until a sentimental delivery from Friday sends him into a panic.
Warnings: Dimitri's PTSD and self-loathing are very much at the forefront here.

In the days following the diner's close, Dimitri's scarce about the ship — so scarce you might start to wonder if he's vanished the way passengers sometimes do. He's not in his cabin at all, nor any of his usual haunts. More worryingly, to anyone keeping track, he misses every attempt to follow up on his injuries. He's never been reliable with his ship-provided phone, but all attempts to contact him meet silence and dead air.

But his name is still on the door of cabin 116. The messages, unread and unreturned, are still received. Friday, if asked, is politely unhelpful, but she knows the passenger you're referring to. He's still onboard.

So where the hell is he?

1. grab a hold of my hand / i will lead you through this wonderland (giles, ossie)

Since Dimitri's conversation with SecUnit, he's been spending more and more time in the library, tearing through novels with a determined fervor — not really absorbing the stories, but cataloguing settings, plot features, anything the Captain might use against them. Honestly, there's far too much in the library to make this preparation meaningful — but it's something to do that feels productive, and really, that's more important.

On this particular evening, though, Dimitri's neither asleep nor reading. He's huddled behind his usual armchair, wedged into a corner, curled up around a jewelry box still bearing the remains of tacky boat-patterned wrapping paper. Despite his best efforts — face buried in his elbow, teeth sunk into his other wrist — stifled sobs creep into the library space. Grief and terror roll off the boy in waves, so thick they're almost tangible.

2. somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk (inbox, OTA, not here)
Dimitri’s phone languishes in the dark, stuffed into a T-shirt at the back of a drawer in his cabin. Texts go unanswered, and calls ring through to a default uncustomized voicemail.

At the tone, please record your message.

[beep]

3. the light is blinding my eyes / as the soft walls eat us alive (wildcard)
Find me on discord at bird#9111, or on Plurk at shrikesthorn!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Giles gives Ossie a curious look, but doesn't say anything, just squeezes his hand briefly in recognition.

He hasn't eaten much himself, far more focussed on running through what else could be done to help Dimitri without being too overbearing.
He hasn't found many good options yet.

Dimitri sniffles, leaning unconsciously towards the brief reassurance. Both his sleeves and the tissue are pretty soggy at this point. "Yes, it does. Thank y -- ou ... "

At which point he does notice the handholding. And registers the 'my love' that had skidded past as a blip to his overwhelmed mind.

And he has absolutely no idea how to ask that question delicately. Or even what question there is to ask. His head's too cloudy, the fog more comfortable but no less obscuring. But it's far too late to pretend he hasn't noticed. So he just kind of. Stares, mouth dumbly open, gaze flicking from Ossie to Giles to their joined hands. Back to Ossie. Giles. Hands. Giles. Hands. Ossie.

"Um."

Lucky for Ossie, he happens to know exactly why Dimitri is having his little moment, and doesn't think ill of it for him.

"Recent development," he lifts the hand holding Giles' a little to indicate, "Giles' doing, really, it was all so terribly romantic."

Romantic.

Dimitri continues doing his best impression of a landed fish. Two pieces of realization collide in his brain, like an infant whacking a shape against the appropriate slot in a toy -- desperately obvious, and utterly failing to come together.

Because. He's talked to Ossie and Giles separately about their relationship, compared it outright to his own with Dedue, commiserated with Ossie about their respective partners' distance. And. But. If. Giles is the one who initiated this ... change of relationship ... if ...

... they look so happy together.

Dimitri's not even in denial, exactly. It's just that the absolute deluge of longing Ossie will sense off the young man is too powerful for him to recognize. Like the sun, too bright to be seen directly. Or an eclipse; visible, but never as itself, only safe to view when refracted and inverted. He can't make this connection, because to do so would make his life immensely more painful, and more complicated.

"O-oh." Dimitri clears his throat, ears burning, blush scarlet on his already-blotchy face. "I'm -- I'm glad to hear it. I'm happy for you."

Ossie is never telling Dimitri about his ability to sense desire directly, because this kid is absolutely oozing with it such that he's sure Dimitri would explode if he knew how obvious it was.

"Thank you, dear boy. I only hope you'll be so lucky with your situation when we get home."

Because there's no need to dredge a lovely lunch down with pessimism about their chances of escape.

"Is there anything else you need from us?"

Giles had suspected, but hadn't had confirmation until this moment as to the full extent of the mirrored shape until now. Well, no, he'd well and truly seen it, he'd just been wilfully ignorant of one side of it at the time.

"It may take a while, and perhaps a meddling outsider, but I have faith things will work out for you"

He'll start busying himself with clearing the table now everyone's done with eating. ~~And it's definitely not to avoid further conversation on the matter.~~

They know. Oh Goddess they know and they're looking at him all smiling and indulgent. Giles gets up to shuffle the plates away; the affectation is so damned familiar, occupying his hands to escape an awkward conversation, and Dimitri wants to. Wants to. Wants to laugh, broken and hysterical; wants to burst into tears again; wants to scream, wants to throw up, wants to bolt for the exit. Wants to.

... wants to stay here, where it's comfortable. Where it's safe. In this little pocket of time and space that feels familiar, on soil and solid ground, where the air smells of sweet flowers instead of salt. With this vision of a future he doesn't know he wants, let alone believe he could have.

" ... I know it's a lot to ask, without warning," he begins, voice small, clutching the little jewelry box to his chest like a talisman, "and I don't wish to burden you more than I already have, but ... by any chance ... could I stay here a little while? Not long -- I just -- don't know if I can face anyone on the ship right now."

There's a very momentary flash of some unreadable expression across Ossie's face, and he immediately looks to Giles with a hand half-raised as if to placate him reflexively.

"Yes, of course you may. We'll set up the guest room and you can stay as long as you like. But I... you must know that I can't reject this request."

Both hands held up now, directed at Dimitri.

"You didn't know, and I know you'll fuss and fret but honestly, really, genuinely, it's quite alright. I... as one of the side effects of the same experience that made Giles and I what we are, it... instilled in us certain rules we cannot break. I cannot reject a request for hospitality."

Ossie stands, briefly resting a hand on Dimitri's shoulder.

"But I'm bound only to host you for a day and a night. After that, it will be entirely out of my own free will. And it will be done freely, I can promise you that. Just something to keep in mind in future."

Giles pauses in clearing the table, he's watching Oswald mostly, although he's doing his best not to make that obvious. Just keeping a careful, somewhat protective eye on him.

Even if Oswald hadn't raised his hand, Giles wouldn't have interrupted. It's not his place to do so, after all. Not out of any sense of duty, simply because it's entirely up to Oswald as to how he chooses to deal with his own frailty.

Oh no.

Oh no no nonononono.

Dimitri shakes his head, both hands clamped over his mouth. He's stumbled directly into a visceral terror, of abusing power over others -- even if this isn't his power, even if he didn't, couldn't have known it existed before he spoke -- now that he knows he can't accept; surely Ossie's compelled to reassure him, too -- Dimitri half rises, still shaking his head. "No, no, please -- I'm so sorry. Saints, I am so sorry -- I didn't mean to, I wouldn't have -- it's alright, I can go. I'll go. I don't want -- not if you can't refuse. I can go."

He'd rather go back to his cabin and face Fio than take anything not freely given.

It may be Oswald's choice how he deals with it, but doesn't mean Giles is going to continue standing idly by. He only hopes it isn't an overstep.

"Dimitri. Stop."

Giles is looking at Dimitri now, he's not glaring exactly, but his expression is very severe.

"These things can be pushed through given enough effort, and they do not affect how one feels about things." He pauses, considers leaving it at that, but instead he continues just to quash any arguments Dimitri might have "Stay for the night, and if it bothers you, you may direct any further requests you might have to me, as my compulsion is different. You can decide what to do beyond that once this has worn off."

"Just as Giles says, dear boy. I could certainly screw the old courage to the sticking place and push through, but I've no desire to. And the compulsion to do so doesn't mean I need to be happy about it, but I am. I'm more than happy to offer a reprieve from what you're going through."

Ossie sighs a little, seeing himself mirrored once again in this young man. All his nerves and abhorrence at abusing his position.

"I understand the feeling, old thing, I do, I really do. But I ordered a guest bedroom built in this place for a reason. It's never an imposition; my house is open to all on all sides, and you need to trust that I'd tell you if I were unhappy with putting you up here."

It's not an overstep; it's exactly what Dimitri needed. He knows the stone wall Giles lays out, the absolute, ironclad certainty. There is no part of him that can doubt it.

And Ossie confirms what Giles had said. That he would offer, even if he weren't compelled to. That it is given gladly, even though he is. They've been so kind throughout all of this, and Dimitri is sure he hadn't asked for any of it.

His voice is small. "If you're sure it's alright. I -- I don't want to be a burden." He sniffs, takes a deep breath. "I do trust you. That's very kind."

Edited 2022-09-18 09:03 (UTC)

"Positive. Now- if you'd like and if you're finished, you can help Giles clear the table," he offers, knowing Dimitri will feel better with something to do.

"I'll go set up the room. Do you sleep with one pillow or two, and do you run cold or warm during the night?"

He's got duvets for different temperatures, because Ossie's just that kind of asshole.

Giles has to stop himself from immediately denying that he needs any help, and from saying that he can look after the room too. He recognises that it's not about him, that Oswald would know what Dimitri needs in the moment better than he, and that Ossie likely needs it too.
Even if it does make his fingers itch.

So he gives a warm smile, and slows down on collecting everything off the table so Dimitri actually has the opportunity to help. Although the keen eyed might notice he's only really leaving the simplest to manage things alone.

Dimitri's most common sleep setup is 'wherever the exhaustion hits, in whatever position he lands', but there's no way Ossie will accept that as an answer. "Two, and ... warm, I think." Whatever it is usually winds up kicked off by the end of the night, anyway. "Thank you."

Task. Task good. Even if Giles is leaving him the least amount plausibly deniable to do. That's fine. 'Nice tableware' is on the list of things Dimitri avoids handling. Even if it leaves him feeling guilty about not helping with chores, he feels worse about the inevitable chipped and broken dishes. So he sticks to the silverware, which he's less likely to scratch or dent, and tries to stay out of Giles's way. Dimitri's certain he's just slowing the other man down, but. Well, he knows when he's being done a favor, and he needs this one too badly to argue it.

Ossie dismisses himself with a nod, going off to set up the spare room.

He doesn't have the benefit of speed beyond speed that Giles has, and the set-up would certainly not to be to Giles' exacting standards. But the work is achieved nonetheless; four pillows on the double bed, a thin silk duvet in soft linen sheets, and a loose-knit blanket for if even the duvet was too much, thin enough and with holes to allow air through.

Ossie very nearly makes a note to tell his therapist how well he handled it, but... well.

He returns a short while later, still all warm earnest smiles.

"There we are- let me know when you're ready and I can show you to your room."

The table is soon clear again, everything reset just so, and the dishes stacked by the kitchen sink with the explanation that the cottage can handle the cleaning itself. Which... Is not a lie. But Giles is planning on doing them himself as soon as there's no-one around to object or get in the way.

Either way, Giles offers Dimitri a quiet word of thanks once everything is done, in the hopes it makes it seem like the boy has actually been of some help, and to dispell the idea that he begrudges it if it doesn't.

They haven't been waiting long at all when Oswald returns.

Dimitri can guess at the half-truth, but he doesn't mind and he's not about to argue. It's comforting, in a way. Familiar in the way so much about the two men is, even transposed several degrees from anything Dimitri knows. (It's not always the argument you'd think. Sometimes it's Dimitri fighting to be allowed to help, but sometimes Dimitri is the one shooing the others away so Dedue can arrange things the way he needs to.) He returns Giles's nod with a wan smile; he appreciates the effort to humor him.

He is so so Goddess-damned tired. But first and before he forgets, he needs to ask -- "I'll remember your geas in the future. I cannot thank you enough for forgiving me. But you made it sound like there are others, and ... I understand I'm asking you to bare a great weakness. I'll swear on Saint Cichol that I won't take advantage or divulge them to anyone else. I just don't want to make this mistake again."

Edited 2022-09-21 22:09 (UTC)

Ossie chuckles.

"You're a dally young man, Dimitri. No harm and no foul; often we don't even know our own frailties and banes until someone steps on our metaphorical toes, wot. The compulsion to hospitality is the only one of mine I know of, and I know you won't abuse it. Giles' are his to tell."

But before he does, "would you like a hug? I don't want this palaver making you think there's any ill will between us, wot."

That's fair enough. Dimitri hadn't known about the rage until he was pushed to it.

Hhh he doesn't -- he can't -- he doesn't --

Selfishness seizes the reins of his motor cortex. He nods. His throat constricts, but not enough to strangle a tiny, "I -- I would. Like a hug."

Giles smiles at the both of them, it isn't hard to see the similarities in the way they comport themselves. The concern over taking advantage, the difficulty in accepting something freely given because of that. It's good to see Dimitri able to push past it for a moment, even for something so simple as a hug.

As for the question Giles has yet to answer;

"You need not worry over my frailty, Dimitri, it is not something you can run afoul of. I require permission to use a name"

So Ossie steps forward to give the young man a hug. It's a little stiff- Ossie's out of practice, and he never saw his nephews get this old. But it's sincere, and Ossie gives him a firm pat on the back.

"There- all hunky-dory. Alright? You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. It's really our pleasure."

Dimitri's no less awkward about receiving the hug; he manages to be stiff and limp at the same time, like a roadkilled rabbit. He can't remember the last time he got a hug just for the sake of it.

... it's nice.

Ossie releases him. Dimitri's chest twinges, even though he's not sure he could have withstood it much longer. He shakes himself and brushes his shirt back into place, just for the sake of moving. His heart does a brief, panicky jump before he finds the jewelry box in his hand -- he'd caught it up instinctively when he'd stood. He presses it to his chest, a lifeline and anchor.

"Thank you," he says again, muted and a little thick, though he's not in danger of crying. He doesn't have the energy for it. "And thank you, Giles. That's good to know." One way, at least, he can't hurt someone accidentally.

He should offer something in return -- try to be a better guest -- but he feels threadbare, worn so thin he's collapsing under his own weight, and if he tries to pretend any different his hosts will see straight through him. "I think ... I need to rest now, if that's alright."

Giles smiles warmly and nods, both in recognition of the thanks and Dimitri's need for rest.

He'll leave Oswald to show Dimitri to the spare room, since he'd already said he would, and as soon as they're gone Giles will disappear back into the kitchen for the neglected dishes.

just follow my yellow light (Ossie & Giles, + unread inbox)

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