[ It's not the word he would have used if he'd thought about it. Mostly because that's a weird and kinda creepy thing to say. But there's something... broken about it. Or maybe backwards, like it's spinning in the wrong direction, pulling instead of pushing, black instead of white. Something wrong, and in order to right itself it needs... it just needs. Never enough though. Like a black hole, ever expanding and always...
hungry. ]
Feels like an attack dog on a leash right now. Not out of control just... If I let go right now it feels like it'd just gobble you up.
[ He watches G'raha's hand carefully, watches the way tendrils of aether seems to stick to his hand. ]
I don't think this is meant for healing, and me trying to, I don't know, force it to heal is why this— [ He gestures at his face with his spare hand. ] —happened.
[ Hungry is a very particular way to describe it, but it does make sense. He scans Eliot's face, taking in the injuries and recalls what he'd said in the text. Hungry...hungry for pain? It does end up healing, in a way, but at a great cost.
Gods...if Eliot had tried healing someone with more dire injuries, what a state he could be in now.
G'raha doesn't force any of his aether into the ball, not wanting something worse to happen to Eliot with such experimentation. Instead, he carefully extracts his hand until it's forced to release him. No harm done. To himself, at least. ]
I will say, there's nothing inherently in your natural aether that makes me feel like it should be acting like this.
[ It can't be you, Eliot. He refuses to believe it. Mayhaps he's too biased. ]
I'll have to think on how we can tackle this.
[ If only he had Y'shtola and Urianger around. He can try consulting Aria and see what she thinks, being an expert healer in another vein. His own knowledge of how healing works in regards to fairies is very limited. ]
[ Eliot catches his hand before he can withdraw completely. ]
Listen. [ He tugs a little on G'raha's hand just to make sure G'raha's giving Eliot his full attention. This is important. ] I know you've got me, okay? But I'll be okay even if we never figure it out. So don't beat yourself up over this.
[ In the grand scheme of things he hasn't known G'raha all that long but... He knows the type. Of course he knows the type; like recognises like after all, and Eliot is surrounded by people who like to take on more than their fair share of the blame.
Was. Was surrounded.
At any rate, G'raha has only ever wanted to help, and Eliot won't let that be tarnished.
After a beat he lets go of his hand and then reaches for his iced tea, uses the couple of seconds as reprieve from such a heavy topic. And then, when he sets down his glass, says: ] Hey, you sticking around for a bit? Got some beef marinating that I was planning on cooking for dinner.
[ G'raha's eyes immediately jump back up to Eliot's face, ears bouncing in light surprise as well. Of course Eliot clocks him immediately——yes, they haven't known each other for that long, but it does strangely feel like it ought to be.
His ears relax a bit as his gaze falls to their hands. He's seen Eliot in a fight, knows that they are more than capable of causing injury when they want to. But he's also seen them be kind, to help build and repair. This...making Eliot feel as if his efforts to heal are tainted is cruel. G'raha will fix this, somehow. Even if Eliot will be okay.
Still, he lets a small, somewhat tired smile pull at his lips. ]
You know me too well.
[ Already. But he relents with a nod, finally bringing his gaze back up to Eliot's. ]
I will endeavour not to.
[ It's only when the other man finally pulls back that G'raha realizes what just transpired. A...moment, of sorts. Of understanding. (Just that.) He finds himself swallowing a little awkwardly and grabbing at his own glass just to give his hands something new to do. The tip of his tail twitches offbeat with excess energy.
And...dinner? ]
It would be rude to impose myself further considering I, well, you didn't exactly invite me...but if you wouldn't mind the company, I would be remiss to refuse.
Eliot gives a quiet laugh and eases himself up out of his seat to head into his kitchenette. ]
If you're not imposing on me then we ain't friends. Show up unannounced. Call me at 3am. Help yourself to shit in my fridge. That's how I know we're friends.
[ So saying, he opens the fridge himself, rummaging around until he emerges with his bowl of marinating beef and some sweet and some russet potatoes that he sets down on the counter next to a jar of pickled vegetables. ]
Anyway, you'd be doing me a favour anyway. I'm trying out a new marinade. Could do with a taste tester.
[ Also, G'raha is good company, and Eliot knows himself well enough to know that he should not be alone with his thoughts right now. ]
[ He doesn't want to—! Well, he's made his point, and so has Eliot. To be so welcomed by someone he's come to care about in no small measure is certainly pleasing. G'raha's unable to stop himself from smiling so he doesn't try. Some joy should be shared, even if he can be a little sheepish about it. ]
An increasingly dangerous offer, lest you find me "raiding" your kitchen, as I'm told the saying goes.
[ He's hip and with it for 300-something.
The mention of a new marinade does pique his interest. G'raha's ears do that thing where they perk up for a second as he moves to stand as well to investigate. He keeps a respectable distance so Eliot still has room to work, but he's definitely watching. ]
[ Eliot looks up as G'raha approaches. Gives him a smile that says he doesn't mind the company if G'raha wanted to get closer. ]
Kind of. For all this place resembles my star a lot, there's some food completely unique to here, some food that are close approximations to what's available on my star, and things from my star that you can't get here. So some of my recipes need to be tweaked or— [ and here, he gestures at the beef in the bowl ] —completely reinvented.
[ He leaves the cling film on the bowl for now, instead gathering up the potatoes to wash them in the sink and then place them on a cutting board. As he starts cutting them into cubes: ] But meat marinades are all the same. Something acidic like vinegar or lemon juice or wine to tenderise the meat, some oil, and then whatever seasonings you want.
[ He tosses the cubed potatoes in some oil, salt, and some chopped rosemary, and then puts them in a little plug and play oven that very obviously didn't come with the place. And then he reaches for the bowl of meat. ]
[ Oh now this is very interesting to him. G'raha does, indeed, draw closer to really see what Eliot is doing (and to just be in his presence). He tilts his head to the side, being someone that enjoys food, but doesn't really know the true nuances of how to combine or get specific flavors. Lyna would doubtlessly back up that assertion. ]
I see, yes of course.
[ This is all rather reminiscent of the garage, except with less motor oil and more vegetable oil. ]
I can cook. But that is very different from being a good cook.
[ His smile is a little lopsided as he watches all of Eliot's ministrations. ]
But you seem quite at home.
just pretend the timing on cooking this meal isn't janky as fuck
[ The cling film goes in the trash and Eliot tosses the meat a little in the bowl and then lets it sit while he gets out a frying pan. He doesn't have a grill like he wants so they'll just have to make due with him frying it. Which is Fine, but he's still gonna pout about it. He sets the frying pan on the stove, sprays it down with some oil, and then turns the stove on. ]
Yeah, I, uh. After I got out of the military, I was kinda at loose ends for a while. [ Well. He was doing the kind of mercenary work that no one should be doing, but 'loose ends' sounds nicer. ] Friend of mine got me into cooking. You know, classes and everything. Some kind of scheme for veterans. And it worked.
[ He keeps his voice light, adds enough lies to make the whole thing sound easy, smooth. Not like he was spinning out dangerously before Toby put a knife in his hand and taught him how to make something with it. ]
I really took to it. Ended up with my own place and everything.
[ The frying pan is hot enough so he starts placing the beef onto it. Immediately the air is filled with the sound of it sizzling, and the scent of his marinade fills the room. Eliot nurses it carefully, flipping it as needed to make sure the outside is cooked evenly, and then says: ] Hey, grab me that cutting board over there, will you?
[ Right, he's a military man of many skills. But it is nice to see that he had taken it up as a hobby, not just as a necessity. That requires a different sort of interest and dedication as well as a window into some of Eliot's preferences that G'raha wouldn't have guessed.
He smiles as he listens and watches. ]
A "scheme" for veterans? As a means to redirect your energy to something else?
[ He doesn't want to say "something more productive", but former military members losing their purpose outside their previous position is well-known across many nations. If only there was framework in place more often to address the consequences. ]
Your own place?
[ His eyes widen a bit. Like his own restaurant? Spencer's Gifts may have been a lie, but maybe that stall in the mall should have been Orange Eliot's instead. ]
It already smells delicious. What do you usually like to cook?
[ And does it all smell this tantalizing? Or is G'raha just easy... ]
Oh! Yes, of course.
[ G'raha quickly grabs the cutting board and hands it to the resident chef. And after a moment of hesitation, he ventures— ]
Is there anything I can do to assist...?
[ The kitchen can be a sacred space, so he knows that he might just be a hindrance. But it still feels only right to offer. ]
these potatoes will Not be cooked but it's fine. it's Fine
[ As a means to redirect your energy to something else? Eliot smiles but it's pretty mirthless. ]
On my star, in my country, the government is really fucking eager to get people— to get kids to sign up to go to war. But once you're done and you get to go home... they wash their hands of you. These types of schemes are there to— [ stop them from killing themselves ] —reintegrate them back into society. Help them get jobs. That kind of thing.
[ He stops there, because he has a lot of opinions about the way veterans are treated, and if he doesn't stop he's gonna end up yelling about it and that's gonna ruin their nice dinner.
He takes the cutting board G'raha hands him with a quiet Thanks and lays the piping hot beef out on it so he can slice it up. His mouth twists a little at the offer for help—G'raha's a guest, what do you mean is there anything I can do to assist—but he also knows that G'raha doesn't do all too well sitting idle so: ]
Yeah, can you grab me some plates out the cupboard and put some cutlery on the table? Thanks.
[ He puts the rest of the beef in to cook. ]
Well where I grew up we had a lot of fried foods, lot of meat. Barbecue. Good, filling food. Lotta comfort to be found there. But, well. As much as a cop-out it is, I just like cooking. If people are around to enjoy it then that's even better.
[ G'raha believes he understands to some small degree, if only from the sidelines. For all the battles he's fought in, he participated either as a scholar at first, or later as a leader of the military itself. He doesn't know what it is like to be sought out, to be used and discarded. And however simply Eliot puts it, it's clear there's much more behind it. Something nefarious.
So while he can conceptualize it, he really can't understand. And what G'raha does understand is that he's lucky for that. ]
I'm sorry.
[ No one deserves that, Eliot least of all. And he can't presume to know how deeply Eliot has been affected by it either, even though he seems very put together from what G'raha can tell. ]
People are never disposable, but it seems that the notion is a common thread no matter where you are.
[ Just because G'raha tried to model the Crystarium in his vision of how a society should be ran means he is acutely aware of how often people are failed by their government. But even then, the Crystarium wasn't perfect.
G'raha is, however, glad to go about setting the table. He doesn't need another suggestion and immediately goes to open a few of the cupboards until he finds out which one has the plates. ]
I would hardly call it a "cop-out". If you found something you enjoy, that's a lovely thing, isn't it?
[ Or someone?
He sets out the plates and then goes to find the cutlery. Two of each? One of each, maybe. Just in case. ]
I've also found that frying tends to elevate most things, though I speak entirely from the perspective of a consumer.
[ He wants to ask G'raha about it. That it seems that the notion is a common thread no matter where you are seems like it might be personal and Eliot feels like he doesn't get a lot of that from G'raha. But they're having a nice meal. No sense in ruining it with that kind of talk. He makes a note to return to it though. He knows G'raha is some kind of academic, he knows that G'raha knows how to fight, that he's relearning how to live after some event that saw him hooked up to some massive power source or weapon or something, but Eliot wants to fill in the gaps. He can't help but get the feeling of still waters hiding something immense.
So he turns his attention on what's important, which is: ]
A man after my own heart. If you like frying then you gotta let me cook for you again. I'll see about making you some dishes from home.
[ He slides the beef on the cutting board onto the first plate, and then slices and dices the second round of beef on the board before plating it. Takes the potatoes out of the oven and tosses them into a bowl to lightly smash them before plating them too. Takes the homemade coleslaw, as well as some pre-grated cheese and sour cream out of the fridge and hands them off to G'raha to put on the table, before following him out with the plates. Sets them down, and then runs back to grab the jar of picked onions and peppers that he almost forgot about to set them down on the table too. ]
Alright. I'm sure you know beef and potatoes. [ He says this with a smile to show he's joking. ] Over here we've got coleslaw, which is shredded cabbage and carrot in a creamy sauce, sour cream and cheese to go on your potatoes as needed, and then some pickled onions and hot peppers in case you want some bite to your meal.
[ He gestures, taking a seat the table himself. ] But give it all a try, in every configuration you can think of, and let me know what you think.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ It's not the word he would have used if he'd thought about it. Mostly because that's a weird and kinda creepy thing to say. But there's something... broken about it. Or maybe backwards, like it's spinning in the wrong direction, pulling instead of pushing, black instead of white. Something wrong, and in order to right itself it needs... it just needs. Never enough though. Like a black hole, ever expanding and always...
hungry. ]
Feels like an attack dog on a leash right now. Not out of control just... If I let go right now it feels like it'd just gobble you up.
[ He watches G'raha's hand carefully, watches the way tendrils of aether seems to stick to his hand. ]
I don't think this is meant for healing, and me trying to, I don't know, force it to heal is why this— [ He gestures at his face with his spare hand. ] —happened.
no subject
Gods...if Eliot had tried healing someone with more dire injuries, what a state he could be in now.
G'raha doesn't force any of his aether into the ball, not wanting something worse to happen to Eliot with such experimentation. Instead, he carefully extracts his hand until it's forced to release him. No harm done. To himself, at least. ]
I will say, there's nothing inherently in your natural aether that makes me feel like it should be acting like this.
[ It can't be you, Eliot. He refuses to believe it. Mayhaps he's too biased. ]
I'll have to think on how we can tackle this.
[ If only he had Y'shtola and Urianger around. He can try consulting Aria and see what she thinks, being an expert healer in another vein. His own knowledge of how healing works in regards to fairies is very limited. ]
But...we'll find something. I promise.
no subject
Listen. [ He tugs a little on G'raha's hand just to make sure G'raha's giving Eliot his full attention. This is important. ] I know you've got me, okay? But I'll be okay even if we never figure it out. So don't beat yourself up over this.
[ In the grand scheme of things he hasn't known G'raha all that long but... He knows the type. Of course he knows the type; like recognises like after all, and Eliot is surrounded by people who like to take on more than their fair share of the blame.
Was. Was surrounded.
At any rate, G'raha has only ever wanted to help, and Eliot won't let that be tarnished.
After a beat he lets go of his hand and then reaches for his iced tea, uses the couple of seconds as reprieve from such a heavy topic. And then, when he sets down his glass, says: ] Hey, you sticking around for a bit? Got some beef marinating that I was planning on cooking for dinner.
no subject
His ears relax a bit as his gaze falls to their hands. He's seen Eliot in a fight, knows that they are more than capable of causing injury when they want to. But he's also seen them be kind, to help build and repair. This...making Eliot feel as if his efforts to heal are tainted is cruel. G'raha will fix this, somehow. Even if Eliot will be okay.
Still, he lets a small, somewhat tired smile pull at his lips. ]
You know me too well.
[ Already. But he relents with a nod, finally bringing his gaze back up to Eliot's. ]
I will endeavour not to.
[ It's only when the other man finally pulls back that G'raha realizes what just transpired. A...moment, of sorts. Of understanding. (Just that.) He finds himself swallowing a little awkwardly and grabbing at his own glass just to give his hands something new to do. The tip of his tail twitches offbeat with excess energy.
And...dinner? ]
It would be rude to impose myself further considering I, well, you didn't exactly invite me...but if you wouldn't mind the company, I would be remiss to refuse.
[ Ahem. ]
no subject
Eliot gives a quiet laugh and eases himself up out of his seat to head into his kitchenette. ]
If you're not imposing on me then we ain't friends. Show up unannounced. Call me at 3am. Help yourself to shit in my fridge. That's how I know we're friends.
[ So saying, he opens the fridge himself, rummaging around until he emerges with his bowl of marinating beef and some sweet and some russet potatoes that he sets down on the counter next to a jar of pickled vegetables. ]
Anyway, you'd be doing me a favour anyway. I'm trying out a new marinade. Could do with a taste tester.
[ Also, G'raha is good company, and Eliot knows himself well enough to know that he should not be alone with his thoughts right now. ]
no subject
An increasingly dangerous offer, lest you find me "raiding" your kitchen, as I'm told the saying goes.
[ He's hip and with it for 300-something.
The mention of a new marinade does pique his interest. G'raha's ears do that thing where they perk up for a second as he moves to stand as well to investigate. He keeps a respectable distance so Eliot still has room to work, but he's definitely watching. ]
Is this a recipe you came up with yourself?
no subject
Kind of. For all this place resembles my star a lot, there's some food completely unique to here, some food that are close approximations to what's available on my star, and things from my star that you can't get here. So some of my recipes need to be tweaked or— [ and here, he gestures at the beef in the bowl ] —completely reinvented.
[ He leaves the cling film on the bowl for now, instead gathering up the potatoes to wash them in the sink and then place them on a cutting board. As he starts cutting them into cubes: ] But meat marinades are all the same. Something acidic like vinegar or lemon juice or wine to tenderise the meat, some oil, and then whatever seasonings you want.
[ He tosses the cubed potatoes in some oil, salt, and some chopped rosemary, and then puts them in a little plug and play oven that very obviously didn't come with the place. And then he reaches for the bowl of meat. ]
You cook?
no subject
I see, yes of course.
[ This is all rather reminiscent of the garage, except with less motor oil and more vegetable oil. ]
I can cook. But that is very different from being a good cook.
[ His smile is a little lopsided as he watches all of Eliot's ministrations. ]
But you seem quite at home.
just pretend the timing on cooking this meal isn't janky as fuck
Yeah, I, uh. After I got out of the military, I was kinda at loose ends for a while. [ Well. He was doing the kind of mercenary work that no one should be doing, but 'loose ends' sounds nicer. ] Friend of mine got me into cooking. You know, classes and everything. Some kind of scheme for veterans. And it worked.
[ He keeps his voice light, adds enough lies to make the whole thing sound easy, smooth. Not like he was spinning out dangerously before Toby put a knife in his hand and taught him how to make something with it. ]
I really took to it. Ended up with my own place and everything.
[ The frying pan is hot enough so he starts placing the beef onto it. Immediately the air is filled with the sound of it sizzling, and the scent of his marinade fills the room. Eliot nurses it carefully, flipping it as needed to make sure the outside is cooked evenly, and then says: ] Hey, grab me that cutting board over there, will you?
it's perfect i see no jank
He smiles as he listens and watches. ]
A "scheme" for veterans? As a means to redirect your energy to something else?
[ He doesn't want to say "something more productive", but former military members losing their purpose outside their previous position is well-known across many nations. If only there was framework in place more often to address the consequences. ]
Your own place?
[ His eyes widen a bit. Like his own restaurant? Spencer's Gifts may have been a lie, but maybe that stall in the mall should have been Orange Eliot's instead. ]
It already smells delicious. What do you usually like to cook?
[ And does it all smell this tantalizing? Or is G'raha just easy... ]
Oh! Yes, of course.
[ G'raha quickly grabs the cutting board and hands it to the resident chef. And after a moment of hesitation, he ventures— ]
Is there anything I can do to assist...?
[ The kitchen can be a sacred space, so he knows that he might just be a hindrance. But it still feels only right to offer. ]
these potatoes will Not be cooked but it's fine. it's Fine
On my star, in my country, the government is really fucking eager to get people— to get kids to sign up to go to war. But once you're done and you get to go home... they wash their hands of you. These types of schemes are there to— [ stop them from killing themselves ] —reintegrate them back into society. Help them get jobs. That kind of thing.
[ He stops there, because he has a lot of opinions about the way veterans are treated, and if he doesn't stop he's gonna end up yelling about it and that's gonna ruin their nice dinner.
He takes the cutting board G'raha hands him with a quiet Thanks and lays the piping hot beef out on it so he can slice it up. His mouth twists a little at the offer for help—G'raha's a guest, what do you mean is there anything I can do to assist—but he also knows that G'raha doesn't do all too well sitting idle so: ]
Yeah, can you grab me some plates out the cupboard and put some cutlery on the table? Thanks.
[ He puts the rest of the beef in to cook. ]
Well where I grew up we had a lot of fried foods, lot of meat. Barbecue. Good, filling food. Lotta comfort to be found there. But, well. As much as a cop-out it is, I just like cooking. If people are around to enjoy it then that's even better.
they cooked when they saw eliot he's so hot
So while he can conceptualize it, he really can't understand. And what G'raha does understand is that he's lucky for that. ]
I'm sorry.
[ No one deserves that, Eliot least of all. And he can't presume to know how deeply Eliot has been affected by it either, even though he seems very put together from what G'raha can tell. ]
People are never disposable, but it seems that the notion is a common thread no matter where you are.
[ Just because G'raha tried to model the Crystarium in his vision of how a society should be ran means he is acutely aware of how often people are failed by their government. But even then, the Crystarium wasn't perfect.
G'raha is, however, glad to go about setting the table. He doesn't need another suggestion and immediately goes to open a few of the cupboards until he finds out which one has the plates. ]
I would hardly call it a "cop-out". If you found something you enjoy, that's a lovely thing, isn't it?
[
Or someone?He sets out the plates and then goes to find the cutlery. Two of each? One of each, maybe. Just in case. ]
I've also found that frying tends to elevate most things, though I speak entirely from the perspective of a consumer.
[ Do not let him around a deep fryer. ]
o///o
So he turns his attention on what's important, which is: ]
A man after my own heart. If you like frying then you gotta let me cook for you again. I'll see about making you some dishes from home.
[ He slides the beef on the cutting board onto the first plate, and then slices and dices the second round of beef on the board before plating it. Takes the potatoes out of the oven and tosses them into a bowl to lightly smash them before plating them too. Takes the homemade coleslaw, as well as some pre-grated cheese and sour cream out of the fridge and hands them off to G'raha to put on the table, before following him out with the plates. Sets them down, and then runs back to grab the jar of picked onions and peppers that he almost forgot about to set them down on the table too. ]
Alright. I'm sure you know beef and potatoes. [ He says this with a smile to show he's joking. ] Over here we've got coleslaw, which is shredded cabbage and carrot in a creamy sauce, sour cream and cheese to go on your potatoes as needed, and then some pickled onions and hot peppers in case you want some bite to your meal.
[ He gestures, taking a seat the table himself. ] But give it all a try, in every configuration you can think of, and let me know what you think.