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

[prince_of_beasts]

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!

Comments

[ring_for_giles]

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.

[prince_of_beasts]

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_oswald]

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."

[ring_for_giles]

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.

[prince_of_beasts]

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."

[ossie_oswald]

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."

[prince_of_beasts]

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."

[ring_for_giles]

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"

[ossie_oswald]

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."

[prince_of_beasts]

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."

[ring_for_giles]

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.

[ossie_oswald]

"Of course- I'm certain you've had a long day, and getting some rest ought to be just the ticket for it."

Ossie gestures back through the door to the living room, down the hallway, and up a set of stairs. It's odd, the cottage outside doesn't look like it could... fit bedrooms of this size upstairs. But there's four doors up on the second floor regardless, and Ossie gestures to the first on the right.

When they arrive at the door, Ossie opens it. It's definitely a guest room, in the neutrality of it, but with the sheets made up there's at least some air of comfort to it.

"There's spare blankets and pillows in the wardrobe if you need them, and towels too if you want a shower or bath while you're here- the bathroom is the next door to the right. Giles and I will be just across the hall if you need either of us during the night. Er- but knock, first."

The last thing any of them want is Dimitri walking in on them.

"Anything else you might need?"

[prince_of_beasts]

Dimitri glances up and down the hall with the expression of a cat walking into a roll of plastic wrap. After a long moment, very slowly and not at all certain, he asks, "There's ... some sort of magic here, correct? The space doesn't ... " Words fail to line up, and Dimitri trails off with some gestures vaguely indicating 'bigger on the inside'. Please let there be magic happening here; please don't let his mind be betraying him any more than it usually does.

He should have a bath. It's been low on his list of priorities, lately. But right now just staying upright demands the last of his willpower. And ... he has time. Safety. Privacy. Freedom from the image that's demanded of him. A chance to rest, until taking care of himself isn't a miserable forced labor.

"That's it, I thi-ink." Dimitri bites down on a yawn. "I'll ask, if I need anything. The words are growing stale, but -- thank you again."

[ossie_oswald]

"Mm? Oh- yes, I ought to have warned you, the house is magic. Some parts of the internal geometry are... wiggy, shall we say? Sometimes rooms move about- not often, mind you, but sometimes it's handy when one needs a bathroom for the bathroom to appear behind the first door you open. The isle is full of strange delights, so they say."

Ossie always seems to forget that his little cottage is an oddity; it and he are similar in many ways, but most of all is the veneer of normalcy with strange workings below the surface.

"Not at all. Enjoy your rest, Dimitri," with a nod and a warm smile, Ossie departs, leaving Dimitri to his own devices.

[prince_of_beasts]

"You as well, Ossie."

The second he's no longer observed, some internal pillar collapses. Dimitri's shoulders sag; he physically staggers, stumbling so he at least sits heavily on the bed rather than the floor. He manages to remove his boots, fumbling one-handed with the buckles, but doesn't have the will or the strength left to do more than kick them haphazardly aside. Everything hurts: old scars, new injuries, the empty space inside his chest. His head throbs, a stabbing ache through his eye into his skull, a whirling purple spot on his field of vision.

His thumb slides across the surface of the jewelry box. He does what he hasn't dared to since he first saw its contents, and flips it open, tilting it so the earring inside catches the light.

It hurts. Like his ribs have cracked open, his sternum shattered, his heart torn out. The shape so familiar it's burned into his memory, inseparable from the boy it belongs to, a taunting reminder of all he's been taken from and all he's left behind. All that he needs to do. All that he so desperately wants.

He crumples onto his good side, then pulls his legs up, curling up as tightly as his injuries allow. Gives in to a guilty impulse, and presses the earring to his lips, until he can pretend it's skin and not his own breath that warms the metal.

It doesn't help.