S A N C T U A R Y

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: “Nnph… need coffee… gotta… wake up…” he trailed off that statement, blinking a couple more times, still processing the entire statement. “Shower… wha?”

The puzzled look on Simaris’s face only increased at news of the shower. He glanced to the back of the cabin, then back to Elliott. Was there a door there? He didn’t see a door. Surely Elliott didn’t mean his plumbing was outdoors!

Then again… the cabin was rather simple…

“But… how’s’a… howzit work like that?”

It didn’t seem like Simaris was going to understand the simple life anytime soon. If Elliott wanted Simaris to get his shower, he was going to have to walk him through the process.

{✏️}: Elliott couldn’t help but allow a soft, breathy chuckle to escape him at Simaris’ confusion. He, having come from the city himself, understood how jarring the sudden change could be.

“My bathroom area is set up outside, Simaris. I’m afraid I don’t have functioning plumbing in this little shack of mine. The shower is simply a mechanism that sprinkles heated water down over you, but I have to heat and supply the water myself, from an outside source.” the writer had never actually explained that out loud to anyone before, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how strange that must sound to outsiders, “I… assure you, it isn’t as bad as it sounds. It works much like a regular shower, once it gets going…!”

Clearing his throat, Elliott glanced back over his shoulder at his work desk, at his empty page, and the new crumpled wads that had appeared over the course of the night. Frowning, he fiddled with his jacket’s cuffs, “As for coffee… I will see what I can do, if you will allow me some time.”

[🔶]: Yes, it really did sound strange to Simaris. A man accustomed to spacious marble showers in penthouse suites, as he was, had a hard time grasping the concept of showering outside, whatever the circumstances. There not being any actual plumbing was just the icing on the cake to thewhole confusing situation.

Simaris’s face conveyed this mood fairly thoroughly, brows knit and head tilted to one side. He was starting to become more aware by now, though he was still a far cry from his usual composed and regal self. The businessman glanced again towards the outside, as if unsure whether he wanted to brave such conditions. Though, if he wanted to clean himself up, he really didn’t have a choice, did he?

“Strange cabin...” he finally muttered, with a huff, as he started to stand again. Simaris stretched his arms, legs, and back, yawning not unlike a cat might after being roused from a nap. That task complete, he shook his head once more, tossing his curls about, before looking to Elliott.

“Suppose... it’ll do,” he assented, giving a nod. The man walked - with a slight stumble, but still, walked - towards the door. “I’m gonna go’n... um... lookit... where’s your water come up... come from?”

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: Simaris gave an unintelligible mumble and a slow nod, giving Elliott his answer. The businessman ran a hand over his face and back through his curls, blinking slowly as he looked around the room.

There was no kitchen in the little beach cabin, nor a visible bathroom. He could only see the one room, with the bed shoved over to one side, and the writing desk on the other. There was a piano as well, and a few potted plants, but not much else. Elliott lived far more simply than Simaris was used to seeing, and in his half-asleep state, he was rather confused by it all.

“How’s… how’d you? Mmph… sleep?” he asked, at least attempting to be coherent. Elliott’s guest shuffled over to the piano bench, sitting himself down with considerably less grace than he usually exhibited. He seemed to struggle with his hair for a moment, attempting to get it to stay back, before giving an annoyed huff, shaking his head slightly, and leaving it there.

“Any… coffee? Shower?”

{✏️}: Elliott quirked a brow at the sight of the once elegant man now shuffling out of bed and flopping down onto his piano’s bench. It was quite humorous, in all honesty. And… charming.

“I slept just fine, thank you.” he replied, not entirely open to admitting that he had spent the night slumped over against his desk, though he was sure Simaris already knew.

An amused smile played across the writer’s lips. Simaris truly wasn’t a morning person, was he? Elliott didn’t mind daybreak, though he never allowed his door to unlock until he had made himself properly presentable. Today was unusual for the both of them, it seemed.

“Coffee, no, I’m afraid.” Elliott crossed one leg over the other, grumbling a little and leaning back in his chair, “As for a shower, it’s out back. I will have to start a small fire in order to warm the water first.” with that, the man stood, properly stretching with an audible crack of his back, “Shall I?”

[🔶]: “Nnph... need coffee... gotta... wake up...” he trailed off that statement, blinking a couple more times, still processing the entire statement. “Shower... wha?”

The puzzled look on Simaris’s face only increased at news of the shower. He glanced to the back of the cabin, then back to Elliott. Was there a door there? He didn’t see a door. Surely Elliott didn’t mean his plumbing was outdoors!

Then again... the cabin was rather simple...

“But... how’s’a... howzit work like that?”

It didn’t seem like Simaris was going to understand the simple life anytime soon. If Elliott wanted Simaris to get his shower, he was going to have to walk him through the process.

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: Simaris, true to his word, did not pester Elliott again with a repeated offer. Even if he was wishing and waiting for the other man to give in and join him in bed. If Elliott wished to push things forward, then he would have gladly gone along with it.

However, that didn’t seem to pan out. After stripping down to his underwear, carefully folding his business suit, and setting it to the side so it wouldn’t wrinkle, Simaris crawled into Elliott’s modest bed, careful not to disturb the writer as he worked. He laid awake for a bit, listening to the sounds of the waves outside, as well as the occasional wood creak or faint quill scratching. It was… odd, not hearing the sounds of the city around him. It was both alienating, and strangely comforting. He wasn’t entirely sure if he enjoyed it or hated it.

Simaris eventually drifted off, none the wiser to Elliott’s continued plight - or to him falling asleep at his desk. The CEO began to snore, softly, gently, as he tossed and turned. He slept fitfully, and when he woke, it was slowly, with a slight grumble under his breath.

The man who emerged the next morning was nothing like the one who had crawled under the covers the night before. His hair was a mess of curls, the gel in it broken down overnight. His makeup had smudged and faded as well, leaving his face considerably more natural looking. His clothes had been reduced to a minimalist combination of trousers and a button-up shirt, partially open still. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, despite having just slept a considerable amount.

Damn, he missed his coffee.

“Mmph… Ellieh… it? Elliott?” he muttered, still only half awake.

{✏️}: It didn’t take much to wake the writer, as sleeping against one’s desk was not exactly a reliable way of obtaining restful sleep. Simaris’ shifting and mumbling in the dead quiet of the cabin roused Elliott’s thoughts, and he gave a small grumble of his own, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, before tentatively cracking them open.

Had he fallen asleep at his desk again…?

Slowly, he sat up in his wooden chair, pressing a hand against his back with a groan. He knew that allowing himself to drift off like this wasn’t good for him, and he would most likely get an earful the next time he visited Harvey’s clinic. However, there wasn’t much he could do about it now, other than hope that a hot shower would ease his sore muscles.

Turning his attention across the room, he was met with a disheveled Simaris, the sight shocking him into further waking. His visitor looked nothing like he had the evening prior, his regal air replaced with one of drowsiness. Elliott felt as though he was looking upon something forbidden, something he, of all people, should never have gotten the chance to bare witness to.

Even now, with his hair a mess, and his makeup nearly gone, Simaris was just as stunningly beautiful as he had been the moment their eyes had met.

With a soft smile forming on his features, Elliott carefully eased himself back in his chair, running a hand through his long red hair.

“Good morning, Simaris. I trust you slept well?”

[🔶]: Simaris gave an unintelligible mumble and a slow nod, giving Elliott his answer. The businessman ran a hand over his face and back through his curls, blinking slowly as he looked around the room.

There was no kitchen in the little beach cabin, nor a visible bathroom. He could only see the one room, with the bed shoved over to one side, and the writing desk on the other. There was a piano as well, and a few potted plants, but not much else. Elliott lived far more simply than Simaris was used to seeing, and in his half-asleep state, he was rather confused by it all.

“How’s... how’d you? Mmph... sleep?” he asked, at least attempting to be coherent. Elliott’s guest shuffled over to the piano bench, sitting himself down with considerably less grace than he usually exhibited. He seemed to struggle with his hair for a moment, attempting to get it to stay back, before giving an annoyed huff, shaking his head slightly, and leaving it there.

“Any... coffee? Shower?”

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: Yes, Simaris understood. He understood well the effect he was having on the man in front of him. It brought yet another self-congratulating, smoldering smirk to his lips, and a faint chuckle to his tone.

However, he also understood that he had managed to startle Elliott with his blunt and raunchy proposal. And if he was saying no, Simaris intended to respect that. He was a gentleman, after all, no matter how forward he may be.

“Yes, quite,” he replied, resuming a normal standing position and giving Elliott a bit more personal space. “I would be lying were I to say that I have not often neglected pleasure in the name of business.” He inclined his head, somewhere between an almost imperceptible bow and a simple nod of acknowledgement. “If you must work, then you must work. I will thank you once more, and bid you goodnight.”

With that, Simaris began to turn away - though his gaze definitely lingered on the writer just a bit longer than necessary.

“I take it you will know where to find me, should you change your mind.”

{✏️}: Despite his forwardness, the writer’s guest did not push any further. This… surprised Elliott, left him balking, sitting rather awkwardly and silently in his chair. When Simaris straightened his back and turned towards the bed, he almost missed their close proximity. Why?! Again, they had only just met one another! Surely a simple offer of intimacy couldn’t draw Elliott in so easily!

“…Yes…” came the strained reply, the writer reaching to tuck some hair behind an ear as he finally looked down to his pages. He tried to discreetly shift one leg over the other, in an attempt to hide his shame, “Indeed.”

Quiet soon fell over the cabin’s interior once more. Only a simple oil lamp illuminated the man’s workspace, washing his words in a soft yellow glow. Simaris had long since retired to bed, leaving Elliott to become wrapt in his own thoughts. No matter how desperately he tried to work, his mind would not let go of the CEO’s proposal. So forward, and yet, so respectful… Perhaps Simaris had made a poor first impression, but it had been long forgotten, replaced with carefully chosen words and thousand-dollar smiles. Such a smug look he had worn, watching Elliott flounder… The writer gave a soft groan, shifting a little in his seat. What had this man done to him?

Internal debate could only last so long, as sleep began to tug at the edges of his mind. Should he throw caution to the wind and join his guest in bed? Should he uphold his values, his dignity, and continue his work? Thoughts melded together, eyes grew heavy. In the end, the writer drifted off with his cheek against his page, duckfeather quill having fluttered to the floorboards. If he had known ahead of time, perhaps he would have taken better care to allow himself adequate rest. Alas, this was often his fate, and tonight proved to be no different.

The oil lamp softly died, leaving only pale moonlight to trickle in through the cabin’s tiny windows.

[🔶]: Simaris, true to his word, did not pester Elliott again with a repeated offer. Even if he was wishing and waiting for the other man to give in and join him in bed. If Elliott wished to push things forward, then he would have gladly gone along with it.

However, that didn’t seem to pan out. After stripping down to his underwear, carefully folding his business suit, and setting it to the side so it wouldn’t wrinkle, Simaris crawled into Elliott’s modest bed, careful not to disturb the writer as he worked. He laid awake for a bit, listening to the sounds of the waves outside, as well as the occasional wood creak or faint quill scratching. It was... odd, not hearing the sounds of the city around him. It was both alienating, and strangely comforting. He wasn’t entirely sure if he enjoyed it or hated it.

Simaris eventually drifted off, none the wiser to Elliott’s continued plight - or to him falling asleep at his desk. The CEO began to snore, softly, gently, as he tossed and turned. He slept fitfully, and when he woke, it was slowly, with a slight grumble under his breath.

The man who emerged the next morning was nothing like the one who had crawled under the covers the night before. His hair was a mess of curls, the gel in it broken down overnight. His makeup had smudged and faded as well, leaving his face considerably more natural looking. His clothes had been reduced to a minimalist combination of trousers and a button-up shirt, partially open still. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, despite having just slept a considerable amount.

Damn, he missed his coffee.

“Mmph... Ellieh... it? Elliott?” he muttered, still only half awake.

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: Simaris was, admittedly, just a bit startled by Elliott’s quick snapping up of the frumpled paper. But, no matter. He simply would not reach for it again. After a couple of blinks, he regained his composure, to further explain his remarks - with that distinct, smoldering smirk appearing at the level of blush he saw on Elliott’s face.

“Well…” he began, leaning with one hand against the desk where Elliott was sat. “It isn’t often I find myself stranded in a picturesque natural setting, only to be invited by a rather attractive man to spend the night in his cabin that has only one bed.”

A brief chuckle, as he noted the situation once again. Those golden eyes fixated on Elliott, determined to gauge his reaction as he said:

“I suppose I was hoping for something a bit more… shall we say… climactic.”

No, it wasn’t subtle. But Simaris often liked to get to the point, and this was no exception.

{✏️}: Elliott was a writer. He knew when someone was choosing their words carefully, deliberately. Simaris was very obviously an intelligent man, and there was no doubt in the aspiring author’s mind that he knew exactly what he was insinuating.

The blush that had taken to Elliott’s face spread even to his ears, leaving him completely red and utterly flustered. He felt himself lean back slightly when the CEO propped himself against his writing desk, as if being close to him was some egregious sin. The way this man complimented him, spoke so freely of his intentions; he had never been addressed so boldly in his life. Never had he met one so forward.

Placing a hand against his chest, Elliott could feel his heart beating wildly, so much in fact, he feared that Simaris may hear it. Was this what he had wanted? To see the writer so terribly uncomposed? If this was his intention, he had certainly succeeded.

“Yes, well, I…” he stammered, trailing off as his words fell short. It was as if he couldn’t bring his mind to function, to think, to focus on anything that wasn’t the attractive man and his rather dirty implications.

He couldn’t possibly be considering this, could he? They had only just met one another! What kind of man would he be if he let just any beautiful stranger have their way with him?

“You see, I am, ah, very busy with my… my work, and…” he cleared his throat, averting his gaze— perhaps a little too quickly— away from Simaris, “I-It is very important. I’m sure you understand.”

#// pocketcrab tag tbd #// normal human au tag tbd #// oh man RIP in blushy pieces Elliott

[🔶]: Yes, Simaris understood. He understood well the effect he was having on the man in front of him. It brought yet another self-congratulating, smoldering smirk to his lips, and a faint chuckle to his tone.

However, he also understood that he had managed to startle Elliott with his blunt and raunchy proposal. And if he was saying no, Simaris intended to respect that. He was a gentleman, after all, no matter how forward he may be.

“Yes, quite,” he replied, resuming a normal standing position and giving Elliott a bit more personal space. “I would be lying were I to say that I have not often neglected pleasure in the name of business.” He inclined his head, somewhere between an almost imperceptible bow and a simple nod of acknowledgment. “If you must work, then you must work. I will thank you once more, and bid you goodnight.”

With that, Simaris began to turn away - though his gaze definitely lingered on the writer just a bit longer than necessary.

“I take it you will know where to find me, should you change your mind.”

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: The papers had caught the businessman’s attention, and Simaris carefully picked one crumpled up sheet off the edge of the desk. He turned it over in his hands a few times, as if examining it. Was this a project of Elliott’s? Perhaps he was some sort of writer? Now that Simaris thought about it, he had yet to ask what this man did for a living.

However, that train of thought was abruptly cut short by one of Elliott’s following revelations.

“Only one bed, you say?” Simaris’s interest seemed to have spiked. His eyebrows raised, and he got a curious gleam in his golden eyes. The distinctly curious and slightly playful tone in his voice was unmistakable.

“And just how much, pray tell, should I be reading into that?”

Not much, it would seem. At Elliott taking up his position at his desk, Simaris’s enthusiasm was forced to dampen. It seemed he had no intention of sharing the bed, as Simaris had been hoping to hear…

“Hmm. That is… a bit disappointing.”

{✏️}: Elliott’s eyes immediately flicked upwards towards Simaris as one of his rejected drafts was taken from the desk. He reached up and quickly snatched it back, “Don’t touch those—!” he blurted, squeezing the wad of paper in his hand. Taking a second to clear his throat, he placed the ball aside, “…These are… not meant to be read.”

Embarrassed by his outburst, Elliott quickly tried to return to his work. He ducked his head down, his free hand pressed to his forehead as he dipped the green quill into the inkwell… only to nearly spill the entire thing over his papers at the CEO’s words.

The writer’s head shot back up, emerald eyes wide and cheeks a deep red. One hand gripped the edge of the desk so tightly that the tips of his fingers had begun to turn white. His gaze was completely transfixed on Simaris’ face.

“E—Excuse me?” his voice was strained, “Disappointing… how, exactly?”

#// lordy Elliott I am SO SORRY #// pocketcrab tag tbd #// normal human au tag tbd

[🔶]: Simaris was, admittedly, just a bit startled by Elliott’s quick snapping up of the frumpled paper. But, no matter. He simply would not reach for it again. After a couple of blinks, he regained his composure, to further explain his remarks - with that distinct, smoldering smirk appearing at the level of blush he saw on Elliott’s face.

“Well...” he began, leaning with one hand against the desk where Elliott was sat. “It isn’t often I find myself stranded in a picturesque natural setting, only to be invited by a rather attractive man to spend the night in his cabin that has only one bed.”

A brief chuckle, as he noted the situation once again. Those golden eyes fixated on Elliott, determined to gauge his reaction as he said:

“I suppose I was hoping for something a bit more... shall we say... climactic.”

No, it wasn’t subtle. But Simaris often liked to get to the point, and this was no exception.

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: It was probably for the best that Elliott was in front of Simaris, with his back to him. That way, he couldn’t see the smirk widening on the businessman’s face at his continued fluster. Simaris always enjoyed seeing people react to him in such a way.

Especially when those people happened to be attractive and well-spoken men.

Simaris observed his surroundings briefly as they walked to Elliott’s cabin, offering glances to the town, the stone bridge, and the waves on the beach. He seemed almost as if he were scanning his environment, processing and filing away the details of the place with his precise mind. It was all so… natural. Nothing like the laboratories and office buildings he was accustomed to spending his time in. It felt… odd, to be in such markedly different settings.

Elliott’s cabin seemed to be just as much of a departure from his norm. The place was small, bare, and entirely stripped of any amenities Simaris had come to expect. Still, though… it was preferable to any alternatives. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.

“I am certain it will be quite sufficient,” he said, politely enough, as he copied Elliott’s shoe gesture to rid himself of sand. “I offer you my thanks once more. Sleeping on a bed will be decidedly better than sleeping on a chair in the library.”

{✏️}: Heaving a heavy sigh, the writer migrated towards his work desk, busying himself with straightening all of the papers that were strewn over its surface. He pulled them all into a stack, before lifting and tapping their edges against the wood in order to further neaten them. Crumpled balls of discarded sheets littered the floor underneath, and filled the small trash can to the brim. It certainly looked like whatever this man was working on, he was struggling.

“I assure you, no thanks are needed. It is no trouble.” he didn’t turn as he addressed his guest, instead placing his papers down and running a hand back through his long red hair, “I am sure you will not need to reside here long, if that brings you comfort.”

Elliott sat down at the desk, shifting through his stack of papers with malcontent. His attention no longer seemed to be focused on Simaris or his uptight antics, now drawn back to his work.

“I currently only own one bed,” he mentioned offhandedly, as he carefully removed the cap from a new bottle of ink, and picked up his duckfeather quill, “though that shouldn’t prove to be an issue. I will most likely be working through the night.”

[🔶]: The papers had caught the businessman’s attention, and Simaris carefully picked one crumpled up sheet off the edge of the desk. He turned it over in his hands a few times, as if examining it. Was this a project of Elliott’s? Perhaps he was some sort of writer? Now that Simaris thought about it, he had yet to ask what this man did for a living.

However, that train of thought was abruptly cut short by one of Elliott’s following revelations.

“Only one bed, you say?” Simaris’s interest seemed to have spiked. His eyebrows raised, and he got a curious gleam in his golden eyes. The distinctly curious and slightly playful tone in his voice was unmistakable.

“And just how much, pray tell, should I be reading into that?”

Not much, it would seem. At Elliott taking up his position at his desk, Simaris’s enthusiasm was forced to dampen. It seemed he had no intention of sharing the bed, as Simaris had been hoping to hear...

“Hmm. That is... a bit disappointing.”

#// pocketcrab tag tbd #// normal human AU tag tbd

pocketcrab:

{✏️}: In all honesty, Elliott, himself was feeling a little mixed. While this stranger seemed to have a rather unflattering attitude, he was just so… beautiful. The writer couldn’t help but admire him, no matter how miffed he may feel.

As Simaris stood, Elliott regarded him with uncertainty. Was he truly attempting to regain the regal air he had previously held, after having a full-on breakdown in front of him? Surely not!

Either way, the writer still felt slight intimidation, standing next to this man. It wasn’t often that he met someone taller than he, nor as well-kept. Simaris was quite a specimen, he had to admit. One that he was going to be housing for Yoba-knows how long. Oh, dear…

“Right.” Elliott replied, a spark of indignation lighting within him at the sight of that smirk. He was offering his home to him, and he dares to cast such a look! And yet… were his cheeks red again? “My home isn’t far from here.”

As they walked, Elliott attempted to keep himself positioned just a step ahead of the CEO. Perhaps it was a display of dominance, or perhaps he simply wished to keep his flushed face out of view. His hands, too, were held neatly behind his back, and he walked with brisk strides, unusual for one so usually enwraptured by his surroundings. He lead Simaris alongside the river at the edge of town, and across an old cobblestone bridge that allowed access to the beach. The writer took in a breath of sea air, letting it out in a soft sigh. It always worked to ease his nerves.

Finally, stepping up to the tiny, rather shabby cabin, Elliott pulled out his key, and unlocked the door. It creaked as he opened it, announcing their presence to the bare interior. He tapped his shoes against the doorframe before stepping inside, ridding them of loose sand.

“Welcome to my humble… well, shack.” the writer frowned slightly as he took a look around. This really was a sorry sight, wasn’t it? How embarrassing… “As I have said, it is not much, though I do hope you will find yourself comfortable enough.”

[🔶]: It was probably for the best that Elliott was in front of Simaris, with his back to him. That way, he couldn’t see the smirk widening on the businessman’s face at his continued fluster. Simaris always enjoyed seeing people react to him in such a way.

Especially when those people happened to be attractive and well-spoken men.

Simaris observed his surroundings briefly as they walked to Elliott’s cabin, offering glances to the town, the stone bridge, and the waves on the beach. He seemed almost as if he were scanning his environment, processing and filing away the details of the place with his precise mind. It was all so... natural. Nothing like the laboratories and office buildings he was accustomed to spending his time in. It felt... odd, to be in such markedly different settings.

Elliott’s cabin seemed to be just as much of a departure from his norm. The place was small, bare, and entirely stripped of any amenities Simaris had come to expect. Still, though... it was preferable to any alternatives. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.

“I am certain it will be quite sufficient,” he said, politely enough, as he copied Elliott’s shoe gesture to rid himself of sand. “I offer you my thanks once more. Sleeping on a bed will be decidedly better than sleeping on a chair in the library.”

pocketcrab:

{✏️}: “Private…” Elliott breathed, his voice audible only to himself. He could feel his heart racing at the thought of this man owning a jet all to himself, flown solely for his own purposes. The writer had not flown many times in his life, but when he had, economy was all he and his family had ever ridden. Images of himself enjoying a joyride in Simaris’ aircraft played through his mind, and he had to quickly shake them out.

Elliott couldn’t ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks when their eyes met, tinting his skin a soft pink. He straightened his stance a little more, the hand that had once tapped against his arm now gripping it tightly. Quickly, he turned his gaze away, clearing his throat.

“Yes, well…” he began, a little too curtly. Forcibly softening his tone, he continued, “I assure you it will be no imposition. As I said, I currently live on my own.”

Another moment passed, Elliott staring down at the floor as he attempted to allow the color i his face to fade. He brushed a few stray strands of red hair from his face with a huff.

“We… may depart whenever you feel you are ready. I have no further business here.”

[🔶]: Simaris’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he regarded Elliott. The blush in his cheeks did not go unnoticed, but neither did the initial curtness in his voice. This man was sending him quite the mixed signals, wasn’t he?

“Well. In that case...” Simaris stood slowly from his chair to his full height, gaze trained on the man in front of him. Hands folded neatly behind his back, he seemed to return to an air of power, of professionalism. It was as if he were hoping that he could reassume some semblance of control over the situation by adopting his former mannerisms. Perhaps he was.

“I see no reason to delay.” A hint of a smirk graced his features once again. “Lead the way, if you will, Elliott.”

#// pocketcrab tag tbd #// normal human AU tag tbd

destroyer-immortalizer:

[🔶]: Simaris wasn’t nearly so confident that he could survive the next few days. One of his golden eyes twitched slightly, as if he were in some form of crazed state. However, he did not grab Elliott by the arms again, instead choosing to slump into a nearby chair with an aggravated huff.

“That is easier said than done. Disconnecting is rather difficult when I am a CEOwith a company’s future hinging on my ability to make decisions.” His hands went to his temples as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to massage out his developing tension.

“Fine… Fine. I will simply have to make a few calls and delegate my usual tasks. Until my pilot can get my jet fully functional once more, I am grounded and as good as useless.” He looked none too happy about this situation. In fact, he looked more distressed than before; though, perhaps more quietly so.

“It is… possible I will require a room for the night. Is there a hotel of any sort in this town?”

{✏️}: Elliott felt relief wash over him as Simaris chose to sit rather than to further assault him. He rubbed the arm that had been grabbed, though he was not harmed. Such a firm grip Simaris had…

A CEO, was he? The writer couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. What kind of company was this man in charge of? Perhaps some kind of tech, or other business-related venture. Nothing that Elliott could ever dream of finding himself interested in, he was sure. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help the slight pang of sympathy at the sight of the man slumped, rubbing his temples in a futile effort to ease himself. Elliott knew that feeling all too well.

Did he just say… jet? He couldn’t possibly mean a private jet, could he? Dear Yoba, how important was this stranger?

“If I may so bold,” Elliott spoke up, though his tone was unsure, “I… assumed you had come here on a commercial airline. With… other passengers?”

The mention of a hotel gave Elliott pause. He knew very well that there were no inns here in the Valley, not unless he wanted to travel out to Zuzu city. Of course, if Simaris had come here by plane, he would have no means of transportation at the moment, so that may be out of the question. Perhaps it was a bit of an oversight not to have somewhere for visitors to stay here in town, though he assumed that it simply wouldn’t be able to drum up enough business. Most visitors that came to Pelican Town were relatives visiting relatives, and thus stayed in the homes of their families.

“I… am afraid not.” came the reluctant admittance, “We are not often greeted by new faces out here.”

Elliott took another moment to think things over, arms crossed loosely over his chest. A single index finger tapped against a bicep, brow furrowed. Slowly, he sighed, allowing his shoulders to slacken.

“There are not many residents here who live in solitary. …I, on the other hand, happen to live alone. My cabin is far from five stars, but… you are welcome to stay, if you feel inclined.”

[🔶]: “No, no...” Simaris grumbled through him dragging his hands down his face, halfway wrapped up in his own thoughts as he did so. “I took my own, private plane. There was no commercial flight that suited my schedule, so I thought it might be best... little did I know this would occur...”

A groan, as Elliott confessed to the lack of a decent hotel. “Well that is just splendid,” Simaris muttered, with a touch of bitterness and a hefty dose of sarcasm. “Where am I to sleep if...”

He trailed off, stopping mid sentence as he realized the offer Elliott was making. Eyes opened again, and he glanced up, rather incredulously. This man hardly knew him! And yet, he was offering him his home?

“I... would hate to impose,” Simaris began again, cautiously. “But... it seems I am rather short on options. Perhaps, if it is not too much of a burden... I would appreciate lodging for the night.”

pocketcrab:

{✏️}: Oh, that smirk. What a presence this man had! And a self-flattering one at that. Despite this, Elliott couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. He was upright and commanding, demanded attention from all of those present. He sure as hell captured his attention.

However, the writer’s brow furrowed, and he let out a huff, clearly agrieved at the buisnessman’s words. Elliott held the text to his chest, both arms crossed over it in an almost protective manner. Too good for a book, was he? Too important? He may as well have been too important for Elliott, as well!

“I see.” came the short response, his tone turning stony as he averted his gaze from the other.

Standing, Elliott strode past the desk at which he had been seated, past Simaris and towards the bookselves behind him. He slipped the text he was holding back into its place, though he made no move to turn back.

“You will not find a cellphone signal out here, I’m afraid.” he spoke up, his words still full of disdain, “I suppose the town is far to… ‘rural’, as you put it.”

[🔶]: “But- but- how am I supposed to stay in contact with my pilot? With my board members?! Am I supposed to simply remain cut off from the outside world and all my technological comforts?!”

Simaris’s gaze had turned wild. He grabbed a fistful of slicked-back, platinum blonde hair, before letting it go, in a desperate but futile gesture of frustration. He quickly closed the gap between himself and Elliott, apparently none the wiser that he had said something potentially insulting.

“Elliott,” he stated, firmly. He latched onto the man’s arm, spinning him around to face him. The writer would be greeted with wild, golden eyes, one of which had an eyelid that twitched ever so slightly, emphasizing the man’s cross expression. “I cannot live without a connection. I simply can’t! What am I supposed to do?!”

{✏️}: Elliott pretended not to notice the stranger and his apparent breakdown. How disconnected did someone have to be to throw such a tantrum over a moment without their gadgets? The writer had a sneaking suspicion that Simaris was more than likely the type that felt they were far too important to appreciate the simpler things in life, like the way the sun set over the sea, or a well-written novel. He was the business-type, not unlike the horrendous corporate goons from Joja, who were currently still in hot pursuit of the town’s once-beloved Community Centre.

The writer took in a sharp breath when he was forcibly turned, emerald eyes widening in shock. He jerked his arm away, taking a step back that only managed to press him up against the bookshelves. He was about to let the other have it, rebuke him for daring to manhandle him in such a way, but the truly desperate expression on his face managed to tap into Elliott’s compassion, and, with a heavy sigh, reluctantly replied.

“Simaris. I am sure you will survive a few days here in the Valley. Perhaps a short disconnect would do you well.”