#5: Putting Out Fires
Prompt: Stamp
The early evening’s dying light streamed in through a large window, illuminating Illian’s workroom in a soft coral glow and casting shadows as it caught on the various magitek parts and enchanting materials strewn about every surface. He had already lit the work lamp on his desk, though he knew that soon the entire room would be dark save for that one little bubble of space if he didn’t take a break from his project to see the wall sconces lit. Sighing, he rose to do just that, striding over to the wall and flicking a wall switch next to the door. The sconces flared to life with a soft, yellow-white arcane glow, courtesy of the connection that the switch made to the crystals housed within, and soon enough Illian was sitting back down in front of the small machine he had taken apart to repurpose.
This little heating unit was mostly done, and with fall’s cooler weather fast approaching, he wanted to get this installed as soon as he could. He’d been making sure the new suite of rooms that Rath had ordered prepared for his new bodyguard were in working order, and unfortunately, the temperature control unit had had to wait until he could source more of the airship controls. He’d never outright made them before, but he knew how to modify them to handle arcane energies from crystals rather than their ceruleum. As he brought his welding gun close to the bottom casing, the door flying open caused him to jump and nearly singe his pants as he dropped it. He hastily grabbed a towel and dropped it onto a small patch of rug that had caught fire as he turned the gun off, and then stomped the towel to ensure the fire was out before glowering in the direction of the interruption.
“Do you mind? I was nearly done with–” he cut himself off when he saw that not only was it M’rath who’d stormed in, but he had a look on his face that was perturbed, which was unlike him. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”
“I had to put him down,” the Miqo’te began. “As soon as I got into his head he latched on and I couldn’t get out.”
After setting the welding gun back on his worktable, Illian came over to stand in front of his employer and best friend, laying his hands gently on the other’s shoulders. They were tense, as he expected, and he tried to send calming energy Rath’s way as he worked his thumbs gently against the muscles there. He knew how the man got when he was in this specific mindset, and to have it turned on its head and directed back at him… He couldn’t imagine how badly that had probably messed with Rath’s mind.
“If you would like, I could draw you a bath… or perhaps you would like to see your partners? I’m sure they would love to hear from you.” Illian fixed his bright blue eyes on Rath’s green-and-golds, and the pair stared at each other for a moment. He couldn’t really read what was going on in Rath’s head right now–but then, he wasn’t the one with that sort of power, anyway.
“I…” The emotions that passed through his expression were uncharacteristic of him to show. Worry. Discomfort. A sort of vulnerability he’d only seen a handful of times. “I do not wish to bother them with this. I am not in the best mindset to be good company for them.”
Illian just sighed. Of course M’rath would not want them to see him in this state. Especially not after the activities he’d been partaking in just a short time before. Still, this was as much a part of the man as all the others, and what sort of friend would Illian be if he couldn’t call him out on that?
“You do realize,” he began, “that this sort of thing is precisely something they would want you to talk to them about?”
Rath’s hands curled into fists at his side, his knuckles going white, and Illian wondered if he’d have bloody nail marks in his palms when he relaxed them again. “I know,” he ground out. “I just…”
“Call and see if they’re available,” Illy replied firmly. “Do not shut them out. You will come to regret it if you do.”
When the Miqo’te looked into Illian’s face again, there was something else in his eyes that Illian hadn’t seen in a good, long while. Guilt.
“I would not be surprised if they refuse, it has been too long” he said, his voice quiet. “I just need someone steady right now. An hour, and I will be fine.”
Illian glanced back at his work table and the nearly finished control unit, and then back at M’rath, who still looked a bit rattled. “Fine. But you’re calling on them tomorrow. I know you’ve been busy with your quarterly visits, but you’re nearly done with them now. Come, let’s go relax.”
As he led his friend from his workroom to Rath’s quarters, he tried to think reassuring thoughts. M’rath was not a bad person. His manifestation of the Echo had never treated him kindly, and sometimes when he picked up a new guest, their crazy seeped into his mind a little more than it should. Rath had spectacular impulse control, and he’d never acted on any of his borrowed neuroses, which always managed to impress the half-elezen. Regardless of how he felt about the torture that Rath put his guests through, it was the only way that the man had found to cope with his own traumas, and Illian couldn’t begrudge him that. Especially when his guests were the worst sorts of people, and deserved every mindfuck they got.
As he settled in a lounging position on Rath’s bed, he waited for the Miqo’te to lay down beside him before pulling his head onto his thigh and massaging his scalp.
“They do, don’t they?” Rath asked, his voice wavering a bit as he relaxed into the touch and curled in toward Illian.
“Mmm?”
“Deserve it.”
“You were listening in, were you?” Illian asked with a little smile, and then allowed his thoughts to become more intentional.
You are not a monster. You are loved. And you are doing everyone a service by taking out the trash.
The silence following those thoughts was heavy with hesitation, and Illian calmly reached over to Rath’s nightstand and found the remote he’d made for the room’s orchestrion. Clicking it on, he set it to play one of Rath’s favorite calming piano pieces. It wasn’t until the Miqo’te began to melt against him that he responded, sounding tired and only half-convinced.
“I am not a monster,” he repeated. “I am doing a service.”
“You are,” Illian agreed aloud. “Unless you’re trying to cook. You do no one a service, then.”
He didn’t even know where the pillow came from, only that it flew into his face with a decent amount of force, and he grabbed it before it could get away so that he could smack Rath back with it. “Excuse me, I did not deserve that!”
M’rath’s mind suitably diverted from the horrors he’d been subjected to before, Illian kept bantering with him until he fell asleep, and then tucked him in and crept out of the room.
He was lucky that Illian was the kind of friend who would absolutely dispose of a body.
