[ Like that needs to be said. It's something to fill the silence, at least—a funny thing. Jugram hasn't felt a compulsive urge to say something just to avoid the alternative since his youth.
The problem, of course, is that his own door isn't something that he wants Bazz to see, anyone but the only other person who would immediately recognize the place. He doesn't want to have that conversation, doesn't want to relive those moments as estranged adults who just finished fighting each other to the death. It's too intimate, feels like offering to let Bazz vivisect him. That, if anything, would be less deeply personal.
But they can't go to Stygia, at least not right now. He recognizes the gray-green-purple tint to the sky over the harbor by now, the one that means a maelstrom is coming. Given that he never had the impetus to learn how to swim, Jugram's not particularly thrilled with the idea of getting onto watercraft with the threat of an imminent storm looming, and they may need to take shelter soon.
...He'll need to at least make sure that Bazz doesn't see his tethers, the pin he's kept for so many hundreds of years. He can't have this conversation right now. He simply cannot. This situation is already almost more than he can bear, an unfamiliar feeling for someone who's kept as tight a rein over his emotions as he has for the majority of his life.
They're the only two quincies here, the only two who fought for His Majesty of the four total he knows of from their own world, and Bazz is the only person he knows even remotely, no matter how distant they are. He knew him once, and that's more than he can say for anyone else here.
Jugram pauses, clearly considering. There's no way this won't be wildly uncomfortable. ]
This way. Watch your step. Those pits are geysers.
[ He inclines his head in the general direction of his door, though they have some walking to do still. ]
I need to move some things first. There are things there that are none of your concern.
no subject
[ Like that needs to be said. It's something to fill the silence, at least—a funny thing. Jugram hasn't felt a compulsive urge to say something just to avoid the alternative since his youth.
The problem, of course, is that his own door isn't something that he wants Bazz to see, anyone but the only other person who would immediately recognize the place. He doesn't want to have that conversation, doesn't want to relive those moments as estranged adults who just finished fighting each other to the death. It's too intimate, feels like offering to let Bazz vivisect him. That, if anything, would be less deeply personal.
But they can't go to Stygia, at least not right now. He recognizes the gray-green-purple tint to the sky over the harbor by now, the one that means a maelstrom is coming. Given that he never had the impetus to learn how to swim, Jugram's not particularly thrilled with the idea of getting onto watercraft with the threat of an imminent storm looming, and they may need to take shelter soon.
...He'll need to at least make sure that Bazz doesn't see his tethers, the pin he's kept for so many hundreds of years. He can't have this conversation right now. He simply cannot. This situation is already almost more than he can bear, an unfamiliar feeling for someone who's kept as tight a rein over his emotions as he has for the majority of his life.
They're the only two quincies here, the only two who fought for His Majesty of the four total he knows of from their own world, and Bazz is the only person he knows even remotely, no matter how distant they are. He knew him once, and that's more than he can say for anyone else here.
Jugram pauses, clearly considering. There's no way this won't be wildly uncomfortable. ]
This way. Watch your step. Those pits are geysers.
[ He inclines his head in the general direction of his door, though they have some walking to do still. ]
I need to move some things first. There are things there that are none of your concern.