[Aefenglom IC Inbox]

[judgementor]

"Leave a message. If it's important, I'll get back to you."

*beep*

Comments

[polterguide]

I know it’s awful and shitty but you honestly don’t think that other people could help? There are things that could be taken to dull the pain and maybe some company would make it less distressing! I can’t say for sure, but isn’t it worth trying to alleviate the discomfort?

[judgementor]

No, I don't think other people could help.

I'm entirely certain that no manner of well-meaning company could alleviate the sensation of every bone in my body forcefully rearranging itself. I'm certain nothing I could take short of knocking myself out could help with the psychological effects of having control of my own body entirely taken from me every single month, as if the constant bloodlust wasn't enough.

Why would I want company for any of that.

[polterguide]

[It takes them a moment to respond, because they are not quite sure what to say about it. It's... Not something they really understand, or anything they have any experience in. Shockingly, none of their courses covered anything like this.

All it does is make Bailey even more worried for Red Wine, and they stare at their watch for a moment, tapping their thumb against the screen, before carefully typing out a message.]

Well, you should come over tonight. I have something for you.

[judgementor]

[The silence goes on for long enough that he's about to apologise for his outburst when the next message comes through. He thinks about it for a few moments.]

Alright. What time?

[polterguide]

Whenever works best, but hopefully not too late at night? So before three am is the ideal.

[judgementor]

I can come over this evening. I just need to get some sleep first.

[polterguide]

Alright. Rest up, I’ll see you then.

[judgementor]

[He shows up later in the day, not too far into the evening, and despite best efforts to make himself look more put together than he feels he doesn't look as if he really managed to sleep at all.

Though, he does manage a faint smile when the faun opens the door.]

For the future, can I assume an open invitation to come in? I'm going to have to keep asking each time, otherwise.

[polterguide]

[Red Wine looks terrible, which doesn’t surprise Bailey. Still, there’s a soft smile on their face as they step back to let him inside.]

Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome here.

[judgementor]

... Thanks.

[He huffs out a soft sigh as he walks in, pushing a hand through his hair and scraping the loose strands away from his face. Red Wine may not realise the actual depth of just how his treatment of himself has affected him, but he's aware that he doesn't feel... great.

Easy enough to chalk that up to the full moon. He's already dreading the next one.]

How are you?

[polterguide]

[They reach out, tucking a loose strand behind his ear and cocking their head. Their hand lingers for a moment, before they drop it and motion Red Wine deeper into the house.]

I’m alright, for the most part.

[They’re mostly worried for Red Wine, honestly.]

C’mon.

[And they will lead him through the (much too large for three people) house, to their room.]

[judgementor]

[He stills as Bailey tucks his hair back. A small and unexpected gesture that warms him just a little.]

Mm, good.

[And he follows, unfastened the buttons of his jacket as they walk. He may not feel the cold as much now, but he still dresses for it out of habit. People look at you strangely if you don't, after all.]

Is this a surprise?

[polterguide]

If it wasn't, I would've told you what it was.

[They push open the door to their bedroom, stepping inside - their room is near the back of the house, and has a window looking out over the garden Bailey's been tending to in their spare time. Faun stuff, you know?

The room is as large and opulent as the house, but the room is tidy. There's a piano set in one of the corners, but besides that there's not much in the way of personal touches.

They step over to where a small box wrapped in brown paper is sitting on their bed, ribbon tied around it in a bow.]

But it's nothing big, so don't worry about it.

[judgementor]

Hmn.

[Red Wine doesn't get given gifts very often, and gets surprises even less. The piano gets a lingering look as he crosses the room to pick up the small box, and he delicately turns it over in his hands before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The last time somebody gave him a small and unexpected gift here, it hadn't been something he really wanted... though it had turned out to be very useful in the end.]

Thank you, anyway... [And he slips the bow off the parcel, then unwraps the paper without ripping it.] I don't get many presents.

[polterguide]

[They take a seat next to him, a nervous look on their face that they try to smooth over. It's fine, it's fine, it's not the end of the world!

But they did put a lot of time into this, so. Y'know. A bit of nerves are understandable, they think.

Inside the box is a piece of fabric, neatly folded up. It appears to be a handkerchief, and unfolding it will reveal the carefully embroidered pattern on it.]

Well, I'm not going to say it's the best present, but I hope you don't hate it.

[judgementor]

[He shoots the faun a quick smile before he opens the parcel and gently tips the handkerchief out into the palm of his hand. It's admittedly not his usual style, but Red Wine is never impolite about a gift.]

Did you make this?

[It gets unfolded and held up for examination. Then he folds it up again and tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket.]

I certainly don't hate it. I'll keep it close to my heart.

[polterguide]

I did.

[A pause.]

Well, I did the embroidery part. I didn't- I didn't, you know, go out and weave it myself.

[Their cheeks go a bit pink, and they smile at him shyly.]

Well, I'm glad for that much.

[judgementor]

Thank you.

[He tucks the handkerchief securely into his pocket and then smiles, the expression taking the weary edge off his face for a moment. Red Wine leans up to press a kiss to the corner of the faun's mouth, then looks around the room with a soft sigh.]

Is that piano in tune?

[Whether it is or not, he gives Bailey's hand a squeeze and stands up to go and take a look at the instrument.] I haven't touched one in a while, but I think I remember how.

[polterguide]

You’re welcome.

[They brighten, squeezing his hand before he turns his attention to the piano.]

It is. Or should be, at least. Just played it yesterday.

[judgementor]

You don't mind, do you?

[He assumes that they don't as he takes a seat in front of it, sweeping his coat out behind him as he does. He trails his pale fingers lightly over the keys then plays a gentle minor chord, followed by another.]

Ah, lovely... [Red Wine murmurs, and he plays a few bars of a slow and melancholy tune.]

I'll bring my violin next time I visit.

[polterguide]

Of course not.

[They lean back on their hands, watching him with a small smile on their face despite how... Sad their song is.]

You should. We can play together! It’ll be great.

[judgementor]

It would.

[And he keeps playing, the notes coming out slow and soft and somber. He doesn't watch his hands as they move across the keys, and he visibly leans into it as the pace of the notes picks up.]

I have some books that I picked up, I'm sure we can find something.

[polterguide]

Oh, definitely.

[They hum, picking at their sheets. They’re content to listen for a moment, before curiosity gets to them.]

When did you learn how to play?

[judgementor]

I--

[He falters, just for a moment, but manages not to stumble over the keys. Then, he does look down at his hands. He frowns.]

A long time ago. I learned to play for someone I cared about very much. So that I could be more than just a weapon for her to use.

[polterguide]

[It doesn’t take long for Bailey to figure out who, exactly, Red Wine means. He hasn’t mentioned his Master Attendant much asides from the conceptual - she existed, he worked for her. That was about it.]

Was she a fan of the arts, then?