CIAO, BABY!

— rippers forever — don’t be a dick and i won’t bite yours off [[follows from @tauforged]]

[surrealisticduvet]

sometimes the guitar reaches thru the speakers and touches you sexually

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

Ah yes. The sparkles. That catches his attention.

Darting along the glittering sword-steel and committing itself to memory. Along the lazy beast fattened off its own delight dangling in their arms. He surely is an observant man.

And there’s the pause.

Lyon’s gaze flits up towards Flare, unburdened by it being returned. Scribbles renditions of their scorching irises into his mind. Like a madman inscribing petroglyphs into the soft innards of his skull. It was simply satisfying to be the man that sees and remembers all.

“Problem..?”

He tilts his head again. Pauses the calm massaging of his hands. Should he pry? Would curiosity get the better of him? Ah but that occupied stare given to the beast. He reels from the question now dying in his mouth.

"Ah... I imagine it was not always paradise, then... Apologies."

Awkward. His mouth flattens into a tight line as he leans back. He nods at their answer, still mentally thrashing himself for even a slight fault such as that. He averts his gaze as they turn back to him, darting along the bar again. From the discarded bottles in the recycling bin destined for a visit from the mall's tamed techrot disposal system, to the crude sun and moon signs above the bathroom doors.

"Your purpose is simply to wait..?"

Lyon quirks a brow as he listens and observes. The lights above them whine gently with a high pitched drone. A steady background that his sense of hearing lays upon.

"And you are... content with this?"

He probably could've worded that better. Another mental thwack onto the metal back of his mind.

[liminus--star]

"Well-- I dunno if 'problem' is the right word for it, but... Yeah. We got off to a bit of a rocky start." Once again, they feel the illusion of touch. Nerve endings stimulated from within. Like a ghost, the suggestion of someone leans against their back, wraps arms around their shoulders, rests their head in the crook of their neck. It used to frighten them, feeling things that weren't really there, but now it's a welcome comfort. Maybe someday it could even be real...

"But it's not a huge deal. Nobody's perfect, y'know?" That's what they've got to keep telling themself, anyway.

At Lyon's next question, Flare hesitates. Their face twitches a bit as they seem to consider it.

"Am I content with...? No. Gods, no!" They're hoping that laughing about it could help break up the knot in their gut, but hearing themself, they just sound like they're at the end of their rope. Which wouldn't be incorrect.

"Drives me a little crazy, honestly. Sometimes I wish I could just be anywhere but here, you know? But I have to..." I have to stay put until it happens. Which could be fucking any loop now, for all we know. "...I don't really have anywhere else to go. Nothing that'll stick, at least."

"I mean, it's not-- I guess it's not terrible, really." They know that's just his default expression, but the way the priest seems to stare right through them makes them feel like they might as well keep talking. "If I don't think about it, I get by alright." Which is perfectly healthy, surely. "I don't hate it all the time. It could be a lot worse."

It's just the waiting around that's killing them. Not knowing when the other shoe is gonna drop. Not knowing which loop they're going to start off with Kaya shaking them awake because the sky is starting to line up with her charts and it's really happening this time, no more waiting. Not knowing if the transformation is going to happen before or after they leave. Not knowing if one day they'll just wake up and find swordsteel and leatherskin where their face used to be, and then that's it. No more Flare. No more Lizzie. Just... Temple.

They feel something squeeze their hand, and the pressure snaps them out of... Whatever that was. Hopefully he doesn't ask them to explain.

"Sorry. I guess it's just... I didn't exactly come to Höllvania under the best circumstances, really. There's a lot of baggage I'm stuck carrying around, and nowhere to really put it down. Gets heavy after a while."

[unchainedcathedral]

Hands clasp again, tilting to set themselves upon his knees as his arms rest upon the length of his thighs. He knows an avoidant speaker when he sees one. Hell, he is one...

Lyon bites the bullet and finally returns their eye contact, the lights of the stage casting harsh shadows against the chiseled lines of his face. He has hopes that doing such a thing would... calm the musician. Would cease the strange shuffles of their weight and brief expressions of worry when he looks away. Perhaps they desired this. The unchanging gaze of his polycoria, amaranth in hue and both pricks of black just as intimidating as the other. Perhaps they desired it...

"You stay out of necessity... I can understand that."

He keeps his stare locked as they speak. Keeps with the gently squeezing of his hand joints, a bit tighter now that he had to focus on such a thing. Still, the pressure calms him. Keeps the flies buzzing in his mind from swarming. He flexes his dangling ankle for a moment and debates whether their words should be followed with understanding. Sympathies? Relation? That is usually the simplest, yes...

"Ton mauvais quart d’heure... Some days I feel as if all our time spent in the Sanctum is just for waiting."

Finally, he breaks his stare. Looking down to gently pick at his nails and carve the few bits of potting soil still remaining out from under them.

"Waiting for whatever the 'Cardinal'-" His face scrunches up slightly at this word. "-intended for us comes to pass. And of course-" His gaze returns to Flare, breaking his clasped hands to motion one of them towards the protoframe. "-providing service to those in need. The Drifting ones..."

Another non-committal gesture of his hand as his voice trails off. It takes a few seconds, but he slowly smiles. Chuckles. Casts his dual gaze up at Flare again and briefly flashes even the barest hint of a grin.

"Seems we are not so different, yes?"

[liminus--star]

The intensity of his stare is only making the conversation feel heavier. Flare shifts a bit in their seat. "Yeah..."

Gods, all of that worry, and not even accounting whatever fucking Entrati had in store for them all. They hadn't even thought of that, not in this context, anyway. Where had he even gotten the samples to make the serum he gave to them? What would have happened if Kaya had never figured out where Temple came from -- Why leave it all up to chance like that? How many other things are there that need to happen for the future to turn out right? What happens if they miss one? Will they ever even know, or will the loop just keep them in the dark forever? What if they've already missed their chance, what happens then? What if--

Wait. This whole time, he's been speaking, and they haven't been paying attention to a word of it -- and he's still staring at them, clearly expecting some sort of response. Flare blinks. Maybe Lizzie heard-- no, she's asleep. She must have dozed off a while ago.

"Um..." Better come up with something. Something non-committal enough to be applicable to whatever he might have said, but without letting them agree to something unfortunate. Instinctively, they chew on their lip, a longstanding nervous habit -- one that's a lot less harmless now that their teeth are made of metal and razor-sharp. Ouch. Well, at least their blood still tastes... Sorta-human. Small victories.

"I... I guess you could say that, yeah." Fuck. Was that really the best you could come up with?

[unchainedcathedral]

They have stopped again. Shit.

Lyon's brows furrow as he watches the other protoframe. Had he spoken out of turn? Was relation to one's misery not the custom here? In this place and this time? Had he misread something? Misheard something?

He turns his gaze back to them, stage lights casting his chiseled face into a canvas of uncertainty. They seem flighty. Nervous. Had he scared them? He did not understand why they would be so visibly fearful in such a normal conversation otherwise...

Silence hangs for longer than either of them felt comfortable with. For a while, it is unclear whether he is upset or with this or not. His lips tighten into a thin line.

"Did I..?" He hesitates. Even asking this could be out of line. He is never sure.

"Did I say something wrong..?"

Even with all his chiseled beauty and intimidating gazes, his voice is markedly small. It starts strong, drawing Flare's attention, but quickly curbs off with uncertainty. His gaze flickers away for a moment. He is not scared... or upset... or angry.

Merely awkward.

"You are squirming over there like I'm conducting an inquisition." He motions towards them with a hand, dark nails and blackened fingertips casting contrast on his otherwise pale grasp. "I merely meant what your... 'duty' is here." His hand returns to his lap and the other one motions out towards the rest of the mall. Towards the bar and the open threshold beyond it. "Our allies have theirs. And you are... a repository of sorts."

He shrugs. "My Sister does something similar."

[liminus--star]

Wait... what?

They'd been expecting concern, sure, but what they see now is confusion. Flare's eyes widen as the realization sets in.

"Oh-- Oh, no! No, you're--" Relief manifests as laughter, though it's far less exasperated and much more genuine this time. You dumbass! Doubled over, waving their hands apologetically, as if they could dispel the miscommunication if they just tried hard enough. Lizzie is grumbling in their ear, having been so rudely awoken from her nap. "Shit, you're fine. I'm sorry, I--" Clearly feeling left out from whatever's so funny, she's chittering insistently, trying to get their attention, and that only makes the whole thing feel more ridiculous.

"I think I just-- You're so serious all the time, I thought--!" Okay, okay, maybe it's not that funny. "I just got carried away thinking about it, I guess. Thought this was going to be a totally different conversation..."

Under any other circumstances, if this had happened a few loops earlier, even, they would be so mortified that they wouldn't know what to do with themself. Probably make some lame excuse and escape to go hide. But right now, with Lizzie curled up and purring in the back of their mind -- You are Just sssssssssoooo Cuuute when You're embarrassed~!! -- it doesn't really feel that serious. They relax almost immediately, like nothing even happened. It's almost like they became an entirely different person for a few minutes.

"But... Yeah, no, right now we mostly just..." Another vague gesture that shimmers under the stage lights. A few bits of what looks to be plain regular glitter shed from their new skin and fall to the floor, illuminated in the light. They must leave a trail everywhere they go... "Hand out souvenirs, I guess you could call it." A shrug. "And hang around here, obviously. Play, if we've got enough of an audience... Or if we don't. Doesn't really matter all that much anymore."

[unchainedcathedral]

He finds himself a bit bashful at the statement. So serious all the time? Him?

Lyon averts his gaze and gives a brief, light laugh. "Ah, don't take this as me being averse to heavy topics however." He shrugs. "I had assumed we were being casual about this until you... Well, never mind that."

Again, he relaxes in his seat. Hands clasped. Joints massaged. Laying upon the length of his lap and settling at his knees. His hands bounce a bit as he flexes his suspended leg. A lot of casual movement with this guy...

"Do you have... hobbies around here? Besides the playing."

He tilts his head. "I understand you're not as..." A hand raises to his face, finger tapping against his lip as he thinks. "Comment dit-on- You have no proclivities for the usual activities in this building." The wandering hand gives another motion. Opening itself and lounging to the side with a flick of his wrist.

"You sit. You distribute. You play."

His mitre shuffles a bit as he tilts his head quizzically. Briefly, he rights it with his blackened fingers before returning it to it's previous pose.

"I wonder... if it does not get boring after a while, tu sais ?"

A sweeping gesture towards the room follows. "You may leave and wander if you wish! Instead, you sit here under-" And his hand takes a return trip, nodding itself towards Flare and the stage. Towards the center of attention, glittering and sparkling under the whining lights. "-all this noise and brightness. I..."

The priest gives a soft chuckle. Another rare hint of a grin, barely offering a glimpse of his teeth as he does so.

"Forgive me. I do not see the appeal in warming a pedestal. Just because you are frozen within this year does not mean you have to sit around and wait for purpose to find you, oui ?"

[liminus--star]

"Welll...." Is... is that it? They can't say they've ever felt especially bored, but hearing it laid out like that... Maybe they could do to branch out a little bit.

"I mean, we'll help out with missions when we're needed, and we hang around with the others here and there..." Not as often lately, though. Nothing against anyone here, but ever since things started getting complicated with Aine, they've found themself falling into the habit of just... Sitting around, waiting to hear from her. Everything else sorta fell by the wayside. It came in handy whenever things escalated, yeah, but lately everything is quiet. Not much going on on either end.

"I... I could probably be doing a lot more, yeah." It's obvious from his tone that he's not trying to scold or lecture them, but they feel a bit bashful about it all the same. "I guess I'm just, I dunno. Not really adjusted yet? I mean, we've been here for this long, yeah, but..."

Never really had to worry too hard about what to do with their free time, because something's always happening. Always something to worry about or prepare for or avoid thinking about. Too busy to think about the several gaping fucking holes in their life, let alone bother to fill them with anything... Gods, am I depressed?

"Mmmmmaybe A little Bit depressed, Beloved..."

"Hm." They can't tell if Lizzie said that out loud or not, although they doubt Lyon of all people would begrudge them a little bit of talking to themself if she hadn't... But that's something they'll probably have to unpack later. Maybe.

"I mean. Not to get heavy, but none of the people I came out here with are... Here. Anymore." Still hard to say out loud. "Guess I'm not really sure what else to do with myself without them. Doesn't feel right, y'know?" Opening this line of conversation was a mistake. The man's a priest, not a fucking therapist -- not that they would be any more comfortable doing this if he was. So far, not thinking about it has been working. Why fix what isn't broken?

"You've got a point, though. Probably not healthy. Could use some more hobbies..." Something in the back of their mind perks up at that.

"...Hobbies that aren't setting things on fire or rummaging through garbage, Lizzie." Whatever she was about to say, she's changed her mind. Predictable.

[unchainedcathedral]

He nods, hands returning to his lap. Baiting the other protoframe into discussing their issues seemed to become his pastime as of late. Well without the sudden feelings of existential dread, he hoped.

When Lizzie speaks up again, he bristles. The whine of guitar strings in the back of her voice. The hiss of feedback. Even unplugged, she was an assault to his ears.

The priest keeps a smile on his face, taut and only with the ghost of friendliness he once observed, as he dutifully listens. “A bit of melancholy… Again, something I am not unfamiliar with.”

At the mention of loss however, he softens. Lets that forced half-grimace half-smile melt down into a frown. Hesitation in his fingertips.

“How long..?” It’s past his lips before he can swallow it again.

How long has it been since… The priest pries away his gaze and frowns, fingers gripping each other tightly now. “Ah… What am I saying. I suppose it would be hard to remember now.”

Lyon gives a soft sigh before uncrossing his legs. Before pushing himself to his feet, hand on the edge of the stage as he does so. "Do not take this as me tiring of our conversation, but..." Dusting off the leather strips of his skirt, he tucks an arm behind his back before offering one to Flare. "The rush for Monsieur Nightingale's concoctions must have ceased for now and I would like to scavenge what I can before interest in second helpings arises. Would you-?"

His gaze flickers away for a moment. Long enough for Flare's inevitable rise and response.

"Ah! Careful!" He reaches out to help them descend the stage. "You are sure you can balance properly in those... things?" He gives a nod towards the protoframe's heels, brows furrowing in worry.

[liminus--star]

How long? "Ha!" What a question. "Feels like it's been eighty years and just yesterday all at the same time, honestly-- Hm?" Thank the merciful fucking gods, a subject change. Flare hops up off their seat before he's even finished with his suggestion. Anything to get away from that.

"OOOOoohhhhhh!!! Snacktimeee!!"

"Easy, you." They roll their eyes, but when Lizzie stretches a tendril over and across their shoulder, they swing her around to their back all the same. As they stand and dust off their jacket in a fruitless attempt to dislodge some of the flaky, glittery outer layer that accumulates on their carapace, the growth snakes down across their chest and around to Lizzie again -- an organic guitar strap. Snug and secure in her second-favorite place in the whole world, Lizzie only giggles in response.

"Sounds good to me, though! Might've skipped breakfast..." Okay, maybe technically they ate, but coffee filters don't count as a proper breakfast in their book.

They're more than happy to jump right down off the stage and get moving, but Lyon's concern confuses them. "What-- Oh, these? Ha!" Aw, that's hilarious. And sweet! Sweet of him to worry. But mostly hilarious.

"Don't even worry about it," Immediately after ignoring his outstretched hand to hop down next to him, it struck Flare that they're probably being rude as all hell. Oh well. Damage is already done. "Even before all of this, I spent more time in these than I did in regular shoes, anyway. I'm very used to it." Was that a wink? They're pretty sure they didn't do that on purpose. Did Lizzie do that? She's still giggling back there, but she's also still very excited about getting something to eat, so it's hard to tell. Maybe just start walking and hope he doesn't read too much into it.

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

Ah yes. The sparkles. That catches his attention.

Darting along the glittering sword-steel and committing itself to memory. Along the lazy beast fattened off its own delight dangling in their arms. He surely is an observant man.

And there’s the pause.

Lyon’s gaze flits up towards Flare, unburdened by it being returned. Scribbles renditions of their scorching irises into his mind. Like a madman inscribing petroglyphs into the soft innards of his skull. It was simply satisfying to be the man that sees and remembers all.

“Problem..?”

He tilts his head again. Pauses the calm massaging of his hands. Should he pry? Would curiosity get the better of him? Ah but that occupied stare given to the beast. He reels from the question now dying in his mouth.

"Ah... I imagine it was not always paradise, then... Apologies."

Awkward. His mouth flattens into a tight line as he leans back. He nods at their answer, still mentally thrashing himself for even a slight fault such as that. He averts his gaze as they turn back to him, darting along the bar again. From the discarded bottles in the recycling bin destined for a visit from the mall's tamed techrot disposal system, to the crude sun and moon signs above the bathroom doors.

"Your purpose is simply to wait..?"

Lyon quirks a brow as he listens and observes. The lights above them whine gently with a high pitched drone. A steady background that his sense of hearing lays upon.

"And you are... content with this?"

He probably could've worded that better. Another mental thwack onto the metal back of his mind.

[liminus--star]

"Well-- I dunno if 'problem' is the right word for it, but... Yeah. We got off to a bit of a rocky start." Once again, they feel the illusion of touch. Nerve endings stimulated from within. Like a ghost, the suggestion of someone leans against their back, wraps arms around their shoulders, rests their head in the crook of their neck. It used to frighten them, feeling things that weren't really there, but now it's a welcome comfort. Maybe someday it could even be real...

"But it's not a huge deal. Nobody's perfect, y'know?" That's what they've got to keep telling themself, anyway.

At Lyon's next question, Flare hesitates. Their face twitches a bit as they seem to consider it.

"Am I content with...? No. Gods, no!" They're hoping that laughing about it could help break up the knot in their gut, but hearing themself, they just sound like they're at the end of their rope. Which wouldn't be incorrect.

"Drives me a little crazy, honestly. Sometimes I wish I could just be anywhere but here, you know? But I have to..." I have to stay put until it happens. Which could be fucking any loop now, for all we know. "...I don't really have anywhere else to go. Nothing that'll stick, at least."

"I mean, it's not-- I guess it's not terrible, really." They know that's just his default expression, but the way the priest seems to stare right through them makes them feel like they might as well keep talking. "If I don't think about it, I get by alright." Which is perfectly healthy, surely. "I don't hate it all the time. It could be a lot worse."

It's just the waiting around that's killing them. Not knowing when the other shoe is gonna drop. Not knowing which loop they're going to start off with Kaya shaking them awake because the sky is starting to line up with her charts and it's really happening this time, no more waiting. Not knowing if the transformation is going to happen before or after they leave. Not knowing if one day they'll just wake up and find swordsteel and leatherskin where their face used to be, and then that's it. No more Flare. No more Lizzie. Just... Temple.

They feel something squeeze their hand, and the pressure snaps them out of... Whatever that was. Hopefully he doesn't ask them to explain.

"Sorry. I guess it's just... I didn't exactly come to Höllvania under the best circumstances, really. There's a lot of baggage I'm stuck carrying around, and nowhere to really put it down. Gets heavy after a while."

[unchainedcathedral]

Hands clasp again, tilting to set themselves upon his knees as his arms rest upon the length of his thighs. He knows an avoidant speaker when he sees one. Hell, he is one...

Lyon bites the bullet and finally returns their eye contact, the lights of the stage casting harsh shadows against the chiseled lines of his face. He has hopes that doing such a thing would... calm the musician. Would cease the strange shuffles of their weight and brief expressions of worry when he looks away. Perhaps they desired this. The unchanging gaze of his polycoria, amaranth in hue and both pricks of black just as intimidating as the other. Perhaps they desired it...

"You stay out of necessity... I can understand that."

He keeps his stare locked as they speak. Keeps with the gently squeezing of his hand joints, a bit tighter now that he had to focus on such a thing. Still, the pressure calms him. Keeps the flies buzzing in his mind from swarming. He flexes his dangling ankle for a moment and debates whether their words should be followed with understanding. Sympathies? Relation? That is usually the simplest, yes...

"Ton mauvais quart d’heure... Some days I feel as if all our time spent in the Sanctum is just for waiting."

Finally, he breaks his stare. Looking down to gently pick at his nails and carve the few bits of potting soil still remaining out from under them.

"Waiting for whatever the 'Cardinal'-" His face scrunches up slightly at this word. "-intended for us comes to pass. And of course-" His gaze returns to Flare, breaking his clasped hands to motion one of them towards the protoframe. "-providing service to those in need. The Drifting ones..."

Another non-committal gesture of his hand as his voice trails off. It takes a few seconds, but he slowly smiles. Chuckles. Casts his dual gaze up at Flare again and briefly flashes even the barest hint of a grin.

"Seems we are not so different, yes?"

[liminus--star]

The intensity of his stare is only making the conversation feel heavier. Flare shifts a bit in their seat. "Yeah..."

Gods, all of that worry, and not even accounting whatever fucking Entrati had in store for them all. They hadn't even thought of that, not in this context, anyway. Where had he even gotten the samples to make the serum he gave to them? What would have happened if Kaya had never figured out where Temple came from -- Why leave it all up to chance like that? How many other things are there that need to happen for the future to turn out right? What happens if they miss one? Will they ever even know, or will the loop just keep them in the dark forever? What if they've already missed their chance, what happens then? What if--

Wait. This whole time, he's been speaking, and they haven't been paying attention to a word of it -- and he's still staring at them, clearly expecting some sort of response. Flare blinks. Maybe Lizzie heard-- no, she's asleep. She must have dozed off a while ago.

"Um..." Better come up with something. Something non-committal enough to be applicable to whatever he might have said, but without letting them agree to something unfortunate. Instinctively, they chew on their lip, a longstanding nervous habit -- one that's a lot less harmless now that their teeth are made of metal and razor-sharp. Ouch. Well, at least their blood still tastes... Sorta-human. Small victories.

"I... I guess you could say that, yeah." Fuck. Was that really the best you could come up with?

[unchainedcathedral]

They have stopped again. Shit.

Lyon's brows furrow as he watches the other protoframe. Had he spoken out of turn? Was relation to one's misery not the custom here? In this place and this time? Had he misread something? Misheard something?

He turns his gaze back to them, stage lights casting his chiseled face into a canvas of uncertainty. They seem flighty. Nervous. Had he scared them? He did not understand why they would be so visibly fearful in such a normal conversation otherwise...

Silence hangs for longer than either of them felt comfortable with. For a while, it is unclear whether he is upset or with this or not. His lips tighten into a thin line.

"Did I..?" He hesitates. Even asking this could be out of line. He is never sure.

"Did I say something wrong..?"

Even with all his chiseled beauty and intimidating gazes, his voice is markedly small. It starts strong, drawing Flare's attention, but quickly curbs off with uncertainty. His gaze flickers away for a moment. He is not scared... or upset... or angry.

Merely awkward.

"You are squirming over there like I'm conducting an inquisition." He motions towards them with a hand, dark nails and blackened fingertips casting contrast on his otherwise pale grasp. "I merely meant what your... 'duty' is here." His hand returns to his lap and the other one motions out towards the rest of the mall. Towards the bar and the open threshold beyond it. "Our allies have theirs. And you are... a repository of sorts."

He shrugs. "My Sister does something similar."

[liminus--star]

Wait... what?

They'd been expecting concern, sure, but what they see now is confusion. Flare's eyes widen as the realization sets in.

"Oh-- Oh, no! No, you're--" Relief manifests as laughter, though it's far less exasperated and much more genuine this time. You dumbass! Doubled over, waving their hands apologetically, as if they could dispel the miscommunication if they just tried hard enough. Lizzie is grumbling in their ear, having been so rudely awoken from her nap. "Shit, you're fine. I'm sorry, I--" Clearly feeling left out from whatever's so funny, she's chittering insistently, trying to get their attention, and that only makes the whole thing feel more ridiculous.

"I think I just-- You're so serious all the time, I thought--!" Okay, okay, maybe it's not that funny. "I just got carried away thinking about it, I guess. Thought this was going to be a totally different conversation..."

Under any other circumstances, if this had happened a few loops earlier, even, they would be so mortified that they wouldn't know what to do with themself. Probably make some lame excuse and escape to go hide. But right now, with Lizzie curled up and purring in the back of their mind -- You are Just sssssssssoooo Cuuute when You're embarrassed~!! -- it doesn't really feel that serious. They relax almost immediately, like nothing even happened. It's almost like they became an entirely different person for a few minutes.

"But... Yeah, no, right now we mostly just..." Another vague gesture that shimmers under the stage lights. A few bits of what looks to be plain regular glitter shed from their new skin and fall to the floor, illuminated in the light. They must leave a trail everywhere they go... "Hand out souvenirs, I guess you could call it." A shrug. "And hang around here, obviously. Play, if we've got enough of an audience... Or if we don't. Doesn't really matter all that much anymore."

[unchainedcathedral]

He finds himself a bit bashful at the statement. So serious all the time? Him?

Lyon averts his gaze and gives a brief, light laugh. "Ah, don't take this as me being averse to heavy topics however." He shrugs. "I had assumed we were being casual about this until you... Well, never mind that."

Again, he relaxes in his seat. Hands clasped. Joints massaged. Laying upon the length of his lap and settling at his knees. His hands bounce a bit as he flexes his suspended leg. A lot of casual movement with this guy...

"Do you have... hobbies around here? Besides the playing."

He tilts his head. "I understand you're not as..." A hand raises to his face, finger tapping against his lip as he thinks. "Comment dit-on- You have no proclivities for the usual activities in this building." The wandering hand gives another motion. Opening itself and lounging to the side with a flick of his wrist.

"You sit. You distribute. You play."

His mitre shuffles a bit as he tilts his head quizzically. Briefly, he rights it with his blackened fingers before returning it to it's previous pose.

"I wonder... if it does not get boring after a while, tu sais ?"

A sweeping gesture towards the room follows. "You may leave and wander if you wish! Instead, you sit here under-" And his hand takes a return trip, nodding itself towards Flare and the stage. Towards the center of attention, glittering and sparkling under the whining lights. "-all this noise and brightness. I..."

The priest gives a soft chuckle. Another rare hint of a grin, barely offering a glimpse of his teeth as he does so.

"Forgive me. I do not see the appeal in warming a pedestal. Just because you are frozen within this year does not mean you have to sit around and wait for purpose to find you, oui ?"

[liminus--star]

"Welll...." Is... is that it? They can't say they've ever felt especially bored, but hearing it laid out like that... Maybe they could do to branch out a little bit.

"I mean, we'll help out with missions when we're needed, and we hang around with the others here and there..." Not as often lately, though. Nothing against anyone here, but ever since things started getting complicated with Aine, they've found themself falling into the habit of just... Sitting around, waiting to hear from her. Everything else sorta fell by the wayside. It came in handy whenever things escalated, yeah, but lately everything is quiet. Not much going on on either end.

"I... I could probably be doing a lot more, yeah." It's obvious from his tone that he's not trying to scold or lecture them, but they feel a bit bashful about it all the same. "I guess I'm just, I dunno. Not really adjusted yet? I mean, we've been here for this long, yeah, but..."

Never really had to worry too hard about what to do with their free time, because something's always happening. Always something to worry about or prepare for or avoid thinking about. Too busy to think about the several gaping fucking holes in their life, let alone bother to fill them with anything... Gods, am I depressed?

"Mmmmmaybe A little Bit depressed, Beloved..."

"Hm." They can't tell if Lizzie said that out loud or not, although they doubt Lyon of all people would begrudge them a little bit of talking to themself if she hadn't... But that's something they'll probably have to unpack later. Maybe.

"I mean. Not to get heavy, but none of the people I came out here with are... Here. Anymore." Still hard to say out loud. "Guess I'm not really sure what else to do with myself without them. Doesn't feel right, y'know?" Opening this line of conversation was a mistake. The man's a priest, not a fucking therapist -- not that they would be any more comfortable doing this if he was. So far, not thinking about it has been working. Why fix what isn't broken?

"You've got a point, though. Probably not healthy. Could use some more hobbies..." Something in the back of their mind perks up at that.

"...Hobbies that aren't setting things on fire or rummaging through garbage, Lizzie." Whatever she was about to say, she's changed her mind. Predictable.

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

Ah yes. The sparkles. That catches his attention.

Darting along the glittering sword-steel and committing itself to memory. Along the lazy beast fattened off its own delight dangling in their arms. He surely is an observant man.

And there’s the pause.

Lyon’s gaze flits up towards Flare, unburdened by it being returned. Scribbles renditions of their scorching irises into his mind. Like a madman inscribing petroglyphs into the soft innards of his skull. It was simply satisfying to be the man that sees and remembers all.

“Problem..?”

He tilts his head again. Pauses the calm massaging of his hands. Should he pry? Would curiosity get the better of him? Ah but that occupied stare given to the beast. He reels from the question now dying in his mouth.

"Ah... I imagine it was not always paradise, then... Apologies."

Awkward. His mouth flattens into a tight line as he leans back. He nods at their answer, still mentally thrashing himself for even a slight fault such as that. He averts his gaze as they turn back to him, darting along the bar again. From the discarded bottles in the recycling bin destined for a visit from the mall's tamed techrot disposal system, to the crude sun and moon signs above the bathroom doors.

"Your purpose is simply to wait..?"

Lyon quirks a brow as he listens and observes. The lights above them whine gently with a high pitched drone. A steady background that his sense of hearing lays upon.

"And you are... content with this?"

He probably could've worded that better. Another mental thwack onto the metal back of his mind.

[liminus--star]

"Well-- I dunno if 'problem' is the right word for it, but... Yeah. We got off to a bit of a rocky start." Once again, they feel the illusion of touch. Nerve endings stimulated from within. Like a ghost, the suggestion of someone leans against their back, wraps arms around their shoulders, rests their head in the crook of their neck. It used to frighten them, feeling things that weren't really there, but now it's a welcome comfort. Maybe someday it could even be real...

"But it's not a huge deal. Nobody's perfect, y'know?" That's what they've got to keep telling themself, anyway.

At Lyon's next question, Flare hesitates. Their face twitches a bit as they seem to consider it.

"Am I content with...? No. Gods, no!" They're hoping that laughing about it could help break up the knot in their gut, but hearing themself, they just sound like they're at the end of their rope. Which wouldn't be incorrect.

"Drives me a little crazy, honestly. Sometimes I wish I could just be anywhere but here, you know? But I have to..." I have to stay put until it happens. Which could be fucking any loop now, for all we know. "...I don't really have anywhere else to go. Nothing that'll stick, at least."

"I mean, it's not-- I guess it's not terrible, really." They know that's just his default expression, but the way the priest seems to stare right through them makes them feel like they might as well keep talking. "If I don't think about it, I get by alright." Which is perfectly healthy, surely. "I don't hate it all the time. It could be a lot worse."

It's just the waiting around that's killing them. Not knowing when the other shoe is gonna drop. Not knowing which loop they're going to start off with Kaya shaking them awake because the sky is starting to line up with her charts and it's really happening this time, no more waiting. Not knowing if the transformation is going to happen before or after they leave. Not knowing if one day they'll just wake up and find swordsteel and leatherskin where their face used to be, and then that's it. No more Flare. No more Lizzie. Just... Temple.

They feel something squeeze their hand, and the pressure snaps them out of... Whatever that was. Hopefully he doesn't ask them to explain.

"Sorry. I guess it's just... I didn't exactly come to Höllvania under the best circumstances, really. There's a lot of baggage I'm stuck carrying around, and nowhere to really put it down. Gets heavy after a while."

[unchainedcathedral]

Hands clasp again, tilting to set themselves upon his knees as his arms rest upon the length of his thighs. He knows an avoidant speaker when he sees one. Hell, he is one...

Lyon bites the bullet and finally returns their eye contact, the lights of the stage casting harsh shadows against the chiseled lines of his face. He has hopes that doing such a thing would... calm the musician. Would cease the strange shuffles of their weight and brief expressions of worry when he looks away. Perhaps they desired this. The unchanging gaze of his polycoria, amaranth in hue and both pricks of black just as intimidating as the other. Perhaps they desired it...

"You stay out of necessity... I can understand that."

He keeps his stare locked as they speak. Keeps with the gently squeezing of his hand joints, a bit tighter now that he had to focus on such a thing. Still, the pressure calms him. Keeps the flies buzzing in his mind from swarming. He flexes his dangling ankle for a moment and debates whether their words should be followed with understanding. Sympathies? Relation? That is usually the simplest, yes...

"Ton mauvais quart d’heure... Some days I feel as if all our time spent in the Sanctum is just for waiting."

Finally, he breaks his stare. Looking down to gently pick at his nails and carve the few bits of potting soil still remaining out from under them.

"Waiting for whatever the 'Cardinal'-" His face scrunches up slightly at this word. "-intended for us comes to pass. And of course-" His gaze returns to Flare, breaking his clasped hands to motion one of them towards the protoframe. "-providing service to those in need. The Drifting ones..."

Another non-committal gesture of his hand as his voice trails off. It takes a few seconds, but he slowly smiles. Chuckles. Casts his dual gaze up at Flare again and briefly flashes even the barest hint of a grin.

"Seems we are not so different, yes?"

[liminus--star]

The intensity of his stare is only making the conversation feel heavier. Flare shifts a bit in their seat. "Yeah..."

Gods, all of that worry, and not even accounting whatever fucking Entrati had in store for them all. They hadn't even thought of that, not in this context, anyway. Where had he even gotten the samples to make the serum he gave to them? What would have happened if Kaya had never figured out where Temple came from -- Why leave it all up to chance like that? How many other things are there that need to happen for the future to turn out right? What happens if they miss one? Will they ever even know, or will the loop just keep them in the dark forever? What if they've already missed their chance, what happens then? What if--

Wait. This whole time, he's been speaking, and they haven't been paying attention to a word of it -- and he's still staring at them, clearly expecting some sort of response. Flare blinks. Maybe Lizzie heard-- no, she's asleep. She must have dozed off a while ago.

"Um..." Better come up with something. Something non-committal enough to be applicable to whatever he might have said, but without letting them agree to something unfortunate. Instinctively, they chew on their lip, a longstanding nervous habit -- one that's a lot less harmless now that their teeth are made of metal and razor-sharp. Ouch. Well, at least their blood still tastes... Sorta-human. Small victories.

"I... I guess you could say that, yeah." Fuck. Was that really the best you could come up with?

[unchainedcathedral]

They have stopped again. Shit.

Lyon's brows furrow as he watches the other protoframe. Had he spoken out of turn? Was relation to one's misery not the custom here? In this place and this time? Had he misread something? Misheard something?

He turns his gaze back to them, stage lights casting his chiseled face into a canvas of uncertainty. They seem flighty. Nervous. Had he scared them? He did not understand why they would be so visibly fearful in such a normal conversation otherwise...

Silence hangs for longer than either of them felt comfortable with. For a while, it is unclear whether he is upset or with this or not. His lips tighten into a thin line.

"Did I..?" He hesitates. Even asking this could be out of line. He is never sure.

"Did I say something wrong..?"

Even with all his chiseled beauty and intimidating gazes, his voice is markedly small. It starts strong, drawing Flare's attention, but quickly curbs off with uncertainty. His gaze flickers away for a moment. He is not scared... or upset... or angry.

Merely awkward.

"You are squirming over there like I'm conducting an inquisition." He motions towards them with a hand, dark nails and blackened fingertips casting contrast on his otherwise pale grasp. "I merely meant what your... 'duty' is here." His hand returns to his lap and the other one motions out towards the rest of the mall. Towards the bar and the open threshold beyond it. "Our allies have theirs. And you are... a repository of sorts."

He shrugs. "My Sister does something similar."

[liminus--star]

Wait... what?

They'd been expecting concern, sure, but what they see now is confusion. Flare's eyes widen as the realization sets in.

"Oh-- Oh, no! No, you're--" Relief manifests as laughter, though it's far less exasperated and much more genuine this time. You dumbass! Doubled over, waving their hands apologetically, as if they could dispel the miscommunication if they just tried hard enough. Lizzie is grumbling in their ear, having been so rudely awoken from her nap. "Shit, you're fine. I'm sorry, I--" Clearly feeling left out from whatever's so funny, she's chittering insistently, trying to get their attention, and that only makes the whole thing feel more ridiculous.

"I think I just-- You're so serious all the time, I thought--!" Okay, okay, maybe it's not that funny. "I just got carried away thinking about it, I guess. Thought this was going to be a totally different conversation..."

Under any other circumstances, if this had happened a few loops earlier, even, they would be so mortified that they wouldn't know what to do with themself. Probably make some lame excuse and escape to go hide. But right now, with Lizzie curled up and purring in the back of their mind -- You are Just sssssssssoooo Cuuute when You're embarrassed~!! -- it doesn't really feel that serious. They relax almost immediately, like nothing even happened. It's almost like they became an entirely different person for a few minutes.

"But... Yeah, no, right now we mostly just..." Another vague gesture that shimmers under the stage lights. A few bits of what looks to be plain regular glitter shed from their new skin and fall to the floor, illuminated in the light. They must leave a trail everywhere they go... "Hand out souvenirs, I guess you could call it." A shrug. "And hang around here, obviously. Play, if we've got enough of an audience... Or if we don't. Doesn't really matter all that much anymore."

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

Ah yes. The sparkles. That catches his attention.

Darting along the glittering sword-steel and committing itself to memory. Along the lazy beast fattened off its own delight dangling in their arms. He surely is an observant man.

And there’s the pause.

Lyon’s gaze flits up towards Flare, unburdened by it being returned. Scribbles renditions of their scorching irises into his mind. Like a madman inscribing petroglyphs into the soft innards of his skull. It was simply satisfying to be the man that sees and remembers all.

“Problem..?”

He tilts his head again. Pauses the calm massaging of his hands. Should he pry? Would curiosity get the better of him? Ah but that occupied stare given to the beast. He reels from the question now dying in his mouth.

"Ah... I imagine it was not always paradise, then... Apologies."

Awkward. His mouth flattens into a tight line as he leans back. He nods at their answer, still mentally thrashing himself for even a slight fault such as that. He averts his gaze as they turn back to him, darting along the bar again. From the discarded bottles in the recycling bin destined for a visit from the mall's tamed techrot disposal system, to the crude sun and moon signs above the bathroom doors.

"Your purpose is simply to wait..?"

Lyon quirks a brow as he listens and observes. The lights above them whine gently with a high pitched drone. A steady background that his sense of hearing lays upon.

"And you are... content with this?"

He probably could've worded that better. Another mental thwack onto the metal back of his mind.

[liminus--star]

"Well-- I dunno if 'problem' is the right word for it, but... Yeah. We got off to a bit of a rocky start." Once again, they feel the illusion of touch. Nerve endings stimulated from within. Like a ghost, the suggestion of someone leans against their back, wraps arms around their shoulders, rests their head in the crook of their neck. It used to frighten them, feeling things that weren't really there, but now it's a welcome comfort. Maybe someday it could even be real...

"But it's not a huge deal. Nobody's perfect, y'know?" That's what they've got to keep telling themself, anyway.

At Lyon's next question, Flare hesitates. Their face twitches a bit as they seem to consider it.

"Am I content with...? No. Gods, no!" They're hoping that laughing about it could help break up the knot in their gut, but hearing themself, they just sound like they're at the end of their rope. Which wouldn't be incorrect.

"Drives me a little crazy, honestly. Sometimes I wish I could just be anywhere but here, you know? But I have to..." I have to stay put until it happens. Which could be fucking any loop now, for all we know. "...I don't really have anywhere else to go. Nothing that'll stick, at least."

"I mean, it's not-- I guess it's not terrible, really." They know that's just his default expression, but the way the priest seems to stare right through them makes them feel like they might as well keep talking. "If I don't think about it, I get by alright." Which is perfectly healthy, surely. "I don't hate it all the time. It could be a lot worse."

It's just the waiting around that's killing them. Not knowing when the other shoe is gonna drop. Not knowing which loop they're going to start off with Kaya shaking them awake because the sky is starting to line up with her charts and it's really happening this time, no more waiting. Not knowing if the transformation is going to happen before or after they leave. Not knowing if one day they'll just wake up and find swordsteel and leatherskin where their face used to be, and then that's it. No more Flare. No more Lizzie. Just... Temple.

They feel something squeeze their hand, and the pressure snaps them out of... Whatever that was. Hopefully he doesn't ask them to explain.

"Sorry. I guess it's just... I didn't exactly come to Höllvania under the best circumstances, really. There's a lot of baggage I'm stuck carrying around, and nowhere to really put it down. Gets heavy after a while."

[unchainedcathedral]

Hands clasp again, tilting to set themselves upon his knees as his arms rest upon the length of his thighs. He knows an avoidant speaker when he sees one. Hell, he is one...

Lyon bites the bullet and finally returns their eye contact, the lights of the stage casting harsh shadows against the chiseled lines of his face. He has hopes that doing such a thing would... calm the musician. Would cease the strange shuffles of their weight and brief expressions of worry when he looks away. Perhaps they desired this. The unchanging gaze of his polycoria, amaranth in hue and both pricks of black just as intimidating as the other. Perhaps they desired it...

"You stay out of necessity... I can understand that."

He keeps his stare locked as they speak. Keeps with the gently squeezing of his hand joints, a bit tighter now that he had to focus on such a thing. Still, the pressure calms him. Keeps the flies buzzing in his mind from swarming. He flexes his dangling ankle for a moment and debates whether their words should be followed with understanding. Sympathies? Relation? That is usually the simplest, yes...

"Ton mauvais quart d’heure... Some days I feel as if all our time spent in the Sanctum is just for waiting."

Finally, he breaks his stare. Looking down to gently pick at his nails and carve the few bits of potting soil still remaining out from under them.

"Waiting for whatever the 'Cardinal'-" His face scrunches up slightly at this word. "-intended for us comes to pass. And of course-" His gaze returns to Flare, breaking his clasped hands to motion one of them towards the protoframe. "-providing service to those in need. The Drifting ones..."

Another non-committal gesture of his hand as his voice trails off. It takes a few seconds, but he slowly smiles. Chuckles. Casts his dual gaze up at Flare again and briefly flashes even the barest hint of a grin.

"Seems we are not so different, yes?"

[liminus--star]

The intensity of his stare is only making the conversation feel heavier. Flare shifts a bit in their seat. "Yeah..."

Gods, all of that worry, and not even accounting whatever fucking Entrati had in store for them all. They hadn't even thought of that, not in this context, anyway. Where had he even gotten the samples to make the serum he gave to them? What would have happened if Kaya had never figured out where Temple came from -- Why leave it all up to chance like that? How many other things are there that need to happen for the future to turn out right? What happens if they miss one? Will they ever even know, or will the loop just keep them in the dark forever? What if they've already missed their chance, what happens then? What if--

Wait. This whole time, he's been speaking, and they haven't been paying attention to a word of it -- and he's still staring at them, clearly expecting some sort of response. Flare blinks. Maybe Lizzie heard-- no, she's asleep. She must have dozed off a while ago.

"Um..." Better come up with something. Something non-committal enough to be applicable to whatever he might have said, but without letting them agree to something unfortunate. Instinctively, they chew on their lip, a longstanding nervous habit -- one that's a lot less harmless now that their teeth are made of metal and razor-sharp. Ouch. Well, at least their blood still tastes... Sorta-human. Small victories.

"I... I guess you could say that, yeah." Fuck. Was that really the best you could come up with?

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

Ah yes. The sparkles. That catches his attention.

Darting along the glittering sword-steel and committing itself to memory. Along the lazy beast fattened off its own delight dangling in their arms. He surely is an observant man.

And there’s the pause.

Lyon’s gaze flits up towards Flare, unburdened by it being returned. Scribbles renditions of their scorching irises into his mind. Like a madman inscribing petroglyphs into the soft innards of his skull. It was simply satisfying to be the man that sees and remembers all.

“Problem..?”

He tilts his head again. Pauses the calm massaging of his hands. Should he pry? Would curiosity get the better of him? Ah but that occupied stare given to the beast. He reels from the question now dying in his mouth.

"Ah... I imagine it was not always paradise, then... Apologies."

Awkward. His mouth flattens into a tight line as he leans back. He nods at their answer, still mentally thrashing himself for even a slight fault such as that. He averts his gaze as they turn back to him, darting along the bar again. From the discarded bottles in the recycling bin destined for a visit from the mall's tamed techrot disposal system, to the crude sun and moon signs above the bathroom doors.

"Your purpose is simply to wait..?"

Lyon quirks a brow as he listens and observes. The lights above them whine gently with a high pitched drone. A steady background that his sense of hearing lays upon.

"And you are... content with this?"

He probably could've worded that better. Another mental thwack onto the metal back of his mind.

[liminus--star]

"Well-- I dunno if 'problem' is the right word for it, but... Yeah. We got off to a bit of a rocky start." Once again, they feel the illusion of touch. Nerve endings stimulated from within. Like a ghost, the suggestion of someone leans against their back, wraps arms around their shoulders, rests their head in the crook of their neck. It used to frighten them, feeling things that weren't really there, but now it's a welcome comfort. Maybe someday it could even be real...

"But it's not a huge deal. Nobody's perfect, y'know?" That's what they've got to keep telling themself, anyway.

At Lyon's next question, Flare hesitates. Their face twitches a bit as they seem to consider it.

"Am I content with...? No. Gods, no!" They're hoping that laughing about it could help break up the knot in their gut, but hearing themself, they just sound like they're at the end of their rope. Which wouldn't be incorrect.

"Drives me a little crazy, honestly. Sometimes I wish I could just be anywhere but here, you know? But I have to..." I have to stay put until it happens. Which could be fucking any loop now, for all we know. "...I don't really have anywhere else to go. Nothing that'll stick, at least."

"I mean, it's not-- I guess it's not terrible, really." They know that's just his default expression, but the way the priest seems to stare right through them makes them feel like they might as well keep talking. "If I don't think about it, I get by alright." Which is perfectly healthy, surely. "I don't hate it all the time. It could be a lot worse."

It's just the waiting around that's killing them. Not knowing when the other shoe is gonna drop. Not knowing which loop they're going to start off with Kaya shaking them awake because the sky is starting to line up with her charts and it's really happening this time, no more waiting. Not knowing if the transformation is going to happen before or after they leave. Not knowing if one day they'll just wake up and find swordsteel and leatherskin where their face used to be, and then that's it. No more Flare. No more Lizzie. Just... Temple.

They feel something squeeze their hand, and the pressure snaps them out of... Whatever that was. Hopefully he doesn't ask them to explain.

"Sorry. I guess it's just... I didn't exactly come to Höllvania under the best circumstances, really. There's a lot of baggage I'm stuck carrying around, and nowhere to really put it down. Gets heavy after a while."

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

The hiss of the feedback. The squeal of the speakers.

Lyon jolts in his seat. His entire body stiffens on reflex, but his expression is surprisingly blank. Maybe a slight clench in his jaw, but that's it. It's the rest of him that responds. His relaxation gone as he sits upright. Legs squeezed tighter. Hands gripping themselves with the cadence of an eagle's talons.

He takes a deep breath of sandalwood and sighs.

"It means I am curious."

Even his voice is stiff, although one could argue it always was. Either his tolerance was particularly high today or her words hadn't upset him.

"I want to know your group and the people in it."

Again, he looks them up and down.

"That includes you."

Even with his outward demeanor, Lyon's hands remain tightly clasped. He measures the rise and fall of his own chest. Keeps the shaky breaths controlled. Perhaps she had done that to get a rise out of him. A rise he would not allow her to see. A rise he fights with a now unfocusing gaze and a heightening heart rate.

The priest blinks his gaze closed for a moment, nibbling at the inside of his cheek before looking back up at them. Letting himself relax in his chair and leaning the side of his arm against the edge of the stage.

"You're dodging the question."

A slight smirk flickers on his face. He averts his gaze again and moves to gather his thurible. To untangle a knot in its chain before letting it hang once more from his hip. The base barely clears the floor as it gently swings, the smouldering incense within safe from spilling.

It takes him a minute or two, but the startled reaction slowly fades. Either from Flare's manner of speech or from the rhythmic squeezing and rolling of his own knuckles between the tips of his fingers. Gently pinching each bone in his fingertips and massaging it, taking mental note of each vein and tendon. Was this a nervous habit? Or perhaps the opposite? With each movement, he seems to melt back into his calm like a once hardened pool of wax.

[liminus--star]

Again, his bluntness catches them off guard. This time, however, it simply makes them laugh, throwing their hands up in mock surrender. "You got me!"

Every time they move, some part of their carapace shimmers or glitters or shines in the light. Lizzie makes a small affectionate noise, something between a purr and a coo. Between that, Flare's apparent unbotheredness, and the smell of the smoke wafting out of the thurible, she seems to have lost interest in the conversation entirely. Like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam, she hums, lulled into a sense of lazy contentment in her lover's arms. It's hard not to relax when she does, and Flare feels the uneasiness that came with the question ebb away in turn.

"It's... Well. It's a good question, honestly." It was something they'd been trying not to think too hard about for the past few loops. What are they doing here?

"I mean, it's a safe place to be. We're in good company. And Lizzie knows how to spit out blueprints that the drifters can plug into their bullshit, so that's always in demand." What she does with the bits and pieces of techrot that she demands in return aside from eating them, they still aren't quite sure. Something about building up biomass for later. Still, it's something to do. Keeps people talking to them, keeps them busy. But aside from that...

They shrug. "I first came here looking for something specific, but now I don't really need it anymore. That problem's solved..." They can't help but feel a twinge of guilt indirectly referring to Lizzie as a 'problem' -- But if she heard them, she doesn't seem to mind. She's far too comfortable to care, frankly. If she gets any cozier, she feels like she might forget how to be a guitar altogether and melt in their arms.

It takes Flare a moment to realize that they've completely trailed off, staring rather incriminatingly at Lizzie as they stew in thought. It's fine, they remind themself as they shake the cloud off. We worked it out. She's not holding it against you. Not worth dwelling on.

"So I guess I'm just. Biding my time, as boring as it sounds. Waiting for the next problem to come along." They could elaborate, but they won't. There are some things you just don't tell a polite acquaintance-- and 'I'm waiting until it's time for me to catch an asteroid outta here, hibernate in space for however many thousands of years, set a bunch of shit on fire somewhere else in the distant future, and then probably die' is... y'know. One of those things.

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[unchainedcathedral]

Yes. The instrument.

Lyon grants Flare a genuine smile, something rare. And then his eyes meet the guitar again. The smile tightens. Taut and strained. Yes, he remembers. Leaping and bounding up his legs like an untrained hound. He can still feel the shrillness of his yelp on his throat and the chains in his hands as he had tried to beat her back.

But that was a moment of the past now. Today she is leashed. Caught supine in a web of their love. Chained being to chained being, there was a certain... 'je ne sais quoi' to their situation at the moment.

"You were telling me of your purpose here when I visited you last..."

Yes. Just demand it right out of the gate. Lyon leans back against the creaky bar chair and tilts his head at the musician. There is no hint of malice in his voice. No appearance of displeasure or mocking smirks. As blunt as he was, he seems genuinely interested.

"Everyone has their rôle à jouer here..."

He motions towards Velimir pouring another glass from the soda fountain, attempting to cut off a notorious day drinker. Towards Minerva maintaining one of her pistols at a bar stool. Polishing its parts with a cloth. Even to Kaya and her cup of Spite, ice rustling as she stirs with her straw. Sitting in a booth as she jots down something into her notebook. Lyon's voice rings again as he turns back towards the one on stage. The one in the proverbial spotlight.

"Everyone save for you."

His clasped hands shuffle a bit. Fingers picking at nails. Gently squeezing and rolling the joints of his thumb. They almost seemed like nervous habits if he showed even the slightest sign of said emotion.

"I understand this group has... lists of chores they do to keep up their sanity or to maintain this little place of peace in your lives..." His gaze wanders again, exploring Flare's form. Something usually very sensual and evocative. And yet there is only a trace of curiosity as he plants his eyes anywhere but Flare's own. "What are yours? Do you sit on your pedestal all day like un passereau, or is there order to your madness?"

He pauses for a beat before regarding Lizzie again. "Or... to the order of your companion's madness..."

[liminus--star]

Flare can't help but raise their eyebrows. It feels a little bit mean-spirited, but they can't help but feel amused watching him struggle to avoid eye contact without looking like he's staring at anything in particular. And failing. He gets points for effort, at least...

Ah. Right. They still aren't quite used to how blunt he can be sometimes. For a second, they stiffen, hair bristling, unsure of what he's trying to say but willing to hear him out...

"And jusssst What is THAT supposed To mean?!"

Lizzie, however, is not quite so patient.

Her outburst is accompanied by a low hiss and some mild feedback from the speakers behind them -- but Flare is surprisingly quick to retaliate, hooking a heel around one of the cables on the stage floor and yanking the plug out of its socket in one fluid motion that's clearly become well-practiced.

"Lizzie! Behave." Still indignant, she hisses again, but quieter this time. "He didn't mean it like that! Don't be fucking rude." She grumbles a bit before relenting to sulk in silence.

".......Ssssssorry."

Flare rolls their eyes. She is learning, yes, but it's still frustrating. Better than last time, but we still need to work on that, baby. At least they didn't have to prompt her to apologize... Doesn't fix the fact that she just made several loud and unexpected noises at the one person least suited to tolerate said noises, though.

"Take, uh... take your time. Sorry about her..." It's hard to read him in the best of times, but especially now, Flare is having a hard time judging how rattled he is. Probably better to wait for him to say something before they continue talking, right? At least this gives them a bit to think about what they could possibly say...

[unchainedcathedral]

@liminus--star

Shuffling of fabric. Clinking of chains. The smoke of his thurible twists and sways like grasping hands stretching towards the ceiling. Fluorescent lighting humming in his ears like a swarm of flies. And even with the many distractions around him, Lyon is foot first into the mall's tavern. Hands clasped behind his back. Posture stiff and formal. A nod to the counter's keeper as he is further drawn into the room.

Split gaze wandering towards the explorative chords strummed nearby...

"Flare..."

Another nod. Another dry attempt at a greeting. Lyon pauses to regard them and their stage. Relatively speaking, this den of rowdiness had become the quietest place at the moment. The cacophony of the day rattled outside it's threshold, and unless someone had been hopelessly deep in their cups at all hours, there was relative peace.

His split gaze scouts briefly for a seat, grabbing the back of one from a nearby table and carries it towards the edge of the stage. No haphazard dragging or the screech of metal on floors that would entail. He is careful. Precise. The leg of his seat creaks once and a twinge of displeasure flits across his face.

"Your den is quiet this morning."

His split gaze glances towards that instrument he so loathed the texture of as he sits. Legs crossed. Hands clasps in his lap. Almost dainty. His smouldering thurible breathes an almost heady scent of sandalwood. A thought crosses his mind and he furrows his brows briefly.

"Je m'excuse. I feel as if our conversations frequently become... interrupted."

The last time he had attempted contact, he remembered the noise being simply too great. The activity too bustling. A normal night in the bar for Flare had been his nightmare incarnate, causing the seemingly disgruntled priest to flee with wringing hands. For now, Lyon casts another split gaze around them. Only a handful of patrons today...

"I do not expect another issue like that again..."

At least for now.

[liminus--star]

While not at all unwelcome, the interruption is definitely unexpected. Flare had gotten used to being approached, but lately it seems like the novelty of their presence has worn off somewhat, and most of the others taking shelter in the mall were more or less leaving them to their own devices. Most of the time, they found the peace and quiet welcome -- more time to think, and the gods know they have a lot to think about.

Some days more than others, though, it feels a lot less like peace and quiet and a lot more like isolation. Like there's some invisible barrier between them and the rest of the people around them. They try not to take it too personally, of course. Things were... Different. When they'd first arrived.

After all, they're never truly alone. Not anymore.

Conversing with Lizzie is a lot easier, anyway. She's right there with them, watching them think and responding before the thoughts are even finished forming. It's easy to just... Let it sweep them up, and get lost in thought altogether. Only barely present. Sometimes, if they let their eyes unfocus, they feel like they can almost see flickers of something. Pillars of flesh and sinew, like massive trees, illuminated from within, clustered together as if sprouting from a single point. Whispering amongst themselves, but they can never understand what they're hearing. If only they could just get closer --

Someone is talking to them.

Flare blinks, and reality swims back into focus. They can feel Lizzie in the back of their head, chittering, giggling. The ghost of an affectionate pat on the head and lips on their cheek. Sssssssomeday, maybe... but Not yet.

The bar is the same as ever around them, save for a particularly out-of-place visitor. The priest is back. Flare can't help but smile, watching him cautiously carry a chair over to the edge of the stage. It's all so ridiculous, on the grand scale of things. A washed-up-rockstar mutant and a nineteenth century Gaullique priest of Lua walk into a bar...

Flare thinks about setting Lizzie down, but can feel her eagerness to greet this New Friend, like a persistent cat sticking its paws under a closed door, and thinks better of it. They return his nod, taking extra care to hold Lizzie a little tighter where she is. She's content now, but there's no telling when she might get bored and jump down off their lap to see what sort of funny noises Lyon might make if she pounced on him...

"It's usually quiet in the mornings, honestly. You picked a good time."

There's no way for him to know what she's thinking, but the sideways glances he keeps shooting at her are making it very clear that he still hasn't forgiven her for the last time, and she finds that just hilarious. Her emotions bleeding over are making it a bit hard to concentrate on greetings and formalities, and despite all best efforts, a chuckle slips out, followed immediately by a wince and a marked effort to change the subject.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Don't worry about it. We-- I get it." They tighten their grip around the neck of the guitar for a second. It's almost imperceptible. Just a quick squeeze across the frets, and then they visibly relax.

"So. What's on your mind?"

[tauforged]

its still so funny to me that flare’s stage makeup becoming permanent masks the fucking haunting sadness and exhaustion etched into their default neutral expression. resting misery face. they’re suffering more than christ on the cross

[tauforged]

Shit man, this tenno combat is fucked. I just saw a sevagoth cast “reap and sow” or some similar shit, and everyone around him turned inside out, had their overguard vanish, and then disintegrated. Max damage didn't even go to him, that's how common shit like this is. My ass is casting pyrotechnics and my exalted weapon is a guitar, i have zero combat experience, i don’t even know if i’m holding this gun right. I think I just heard a yareli activate her aqua blades two squads over. I gotta get the fuck outta here.

[badpunktakes]

And dat's what punk is really all about

[apoca-lipsis]

Real photos of the event, since the original Twitter post seems been written by a bot using an AI image.

This pictures were taken by Enrico Scuro during the italian punk festival Bologna Rock in 1979.

Skiantos were considered an art, comedy and performative band and they leave the stage that night famously screaming: "You do not understand a fucking thing: this is avant-garde, you piece-of-shit audience."

What they did was conceptual and protest art, the denial of putting a show against the expectative of it. Punk was born in part as a rejection of the grandiosity of progressive rock: no 20-minute solos, no stages with pyrotechnics, no distance between the band and the listener.

But there's an irony that Skiantos pushed to the limit: as soon as punk became a spectacle, it also began to betray its own code. Counterculture and performance art.

[liminus--star]

sol and fucking lua i have a headache from laughing

[liminus--star]

turns out this was just the start of a migraine and i should’ve listened and quit while i was ahead. ow.

[liminus--star]

that's such an awful thing to say to someone

[liminus--star]

i think viktor marking you as "suspected homosexual" is wishful thinking on his behalf

GODS NO DONT SAY THAT

[liminus--star]

and vodyanoi had the nerve to tell me he was a fan… poser

[liminus--star]

wait. amir’s got indecent exposure on his record and i don’t? i literally got into huge trouble with a venue for taking my jacket off in the middle of a set a few months before coming out here. it was a whole thing. what the hell.

[liminus--star]

sol and fucking lua i have a headache from laughing