[ Jason gets free access to Sylvain's room too, but it's because Sylvain thinks he's a Real Cool Guy, and also because his own sense of self-preservation only works once a fortnight.
...It's a rather jarring difference, visually, each time he steps through. His own room favors the cooler, wintery colors of Faerghus, neutral greys and muted teal/blues. Notably more on the rustic side, if not with a touch of high society opulence, and a fireplace that definitely doesn't work.
But upon closer inspection, there's a vibe that's surprisingly similar between the suites? Sylvain's space is also quite neat, to the point of being lowkey neurotic. He's got all sorts of functional organization to reduce visual clutter.
There's also quite the collection of books, theater scripts, board games, and other ways to intellectually pass the time—though they're all fake as well. Nobody is allowed to be literate in this game. Music/media player, also fake. Large windows displaying an outdoors balcony, double fake! The writing utensils at his large but simple wooden writing desk—faaaaaaaaaaake.
Back to the differences: Sylvain's bed is king-sized, because a ho is gonna ho. And instead of a papery weapons collection he's got a generous walk-in closet with a full-length mirror. He's a man of Fashion. It's So Important to him.
okay now back to lowercase brackets. he peers curiously over Jason's shoulder, (but not so close that it's gay) ]
[Sylvain can teach Jason better fashion, and Jason can be his brother-in-arms about society life.
Sorry to Sylvain for Jason also.
He clicks the last piece of the body in place as Sylvain wanders over, and once he notched the magazine into the bottom, he just
very quickly turns around in place in the chair to press the barrel against Sylvain’s forehead. For, like, a couple of second’s, just long enough for Sylvain to maybe panic a bit.
It isn’t a joke he should play, but it’s fine. He pulls the gun back without any fingers near the trigger, and he puts it on top of the desk facing away.]
A gun. You know what those are?
[Because Royce didn’t despite being a Gunsmith, so. He just has to make sure.]
[ there's definitely recognition, the way sylvain's eyes widen between the barrel of jason's gun. there's anger too, glinting like flint and steel as they narrow.
he'll give jason so many seconds before he retaliates, because he doesn't take kindly to bodily threats. not after miklan, not after the war. ]
Yeah, I do.
[ bro, quit clownin', ur scaring the hoes (sylvains) ]
[Sylvain is valid, and Jason deserves this entirely. It's... weird. To feel something he realizes almost immediately he isn't supposed to be feeling at this moment.
It's eye-opening, too? Something Jason needs. He's very used to fucking around with the bad guys, throwing his weight, not that he thinks Sylvain is a bad guy. It's a way to put that wall between them.
Because he's worried getting attached in any way will just hurt more later.]
[ sylvain's plenty familiar with walls. though he attaches to people quickly, and not disingenuously, whatever deep hurt he experiences is usually self-inflicted—an easier pain to bear than letting someone else in to do the damage.
so even if jason's joke is in poor taste, he lets it slide. quick to anger but also quick to forget. (no harm, no foul.)
he smiles wryly ] I wasn't under the impression they weren't.
[Slowly, his brows lower, making his eyes narrow with scrutiny. It isn't any fault of Sylvain's. He doesn't seem to necessarily believe Sylvain is lying to him to hide anything.
Very suddenly, he jumps to his feet to square up with Sylvain, screeching the chair, doing it like he's getting ready to fight, doing it like he's pretending to be angry and wild. Both icy blue eyes jump back and forth between Sylvain's. He's trying to spook Sylvain into having another--what? Blip of... whatever that was. He does it quick enough and just long enough to see if it'll happen again, but then he relaxes his stance, his shoulders, and his expression.
He wants to know if it's actually Sylvain. There's no way those were his feelings. He isn't scared or angry about guns.]
[ WHY IS JASON LIKE THIS why are they both like this
now sylvain is actually kinda pissed. good will, suddenly evaporated. he immediately settles into a defensive stance, fists and hackles raised. he thinks jason is actually trying to pull something on him—fool him once, etc.
so even after jason relaxes, sylvain does not. he's going for a punch. ]
[Even if he wasn't expecting Sylvain to try to punch him, he would mostly be prepared for it. Quickly, he snaps his hand up and catches Sylvain's fist in his palm, closes his fingers around it.
But he doesn't do anything else. He just holds it in place.
It's not a wimpy punch, though. Sylvain doesn't have a bad hook. It reverberates Jason's arm and stings the calloused skin of the inside of his hand. And that bounces from him to Sylvain, a ping pong of sharing.
His sharp blue eyes jump back and forth over Sylvain's face, trying to see if Sylvain's expression changes.]
Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. See? Did you feel it?
[ his hand twitches, mixed signals of hitting and getting hit scrambling up his arm and nervous system. he takes a step back, staring at his palm, anger completely forgotten in favor of utter bewilderment. ]
What the hell?
[ WHAT THE HELL...
he frowns up at jason. there is a long and measured silence, as he tries to process all this, before he says, ]
You couldn't have tried using words, first? [ BRUH ]
[ sylvain's now totally fixated on trying to sort this out. he returns jason's squinting from earlier, going so far as to half-circle him, trying to identify any external influences. (none insofar as he can tell...) ]
Definitely not.
[ ... ] You think there's something in the water that's causing this?
[ he's thinking it akin to an infection...
grumbling, ] Like this place isn't confusing enough already.
[Well, he just stands there as Sylvain looks him over, though he does kind of make a bit of a face about it. He feels like a Crechure in a zoo is all.]
It's probably more than just the water, if we're being honest.
[He hates this. There was none of these shenanigans during the game he was in before.]
So we're... what? Linked? Emotionally and physically? That's great. How long is this shit going to last? Don't really like the idea of you getting random readings on me all the time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
...It's a rather jarring difference, visually, each time he steps through. His own room favors the cooler, wintery colors of Faerghus, neutral greys and muted teal/blues. Notably more on the rustic side, if not with a touch of high society opulence, and a fireplace that definitely doesn't work.
But upon closer inspection, there's a vibe that's surprisingly similar between the suites? Sylvain's space is also quite neat, to the point of being lowkey neurotic. He's got all sorts of functional organization to reduce visual clutter.
There's also quite the collection of books, theater scripts, board games, and other ways to intellectually pass the time—though they're all fake as well. Nobody is allowed to be literate in this game. Music/media player, also fake. Large windows displaying an outdoors balcony, double fake! The writing utensils at his large but simple wooden writing desk—faaaaaaaaaaake.
Back to the differences: Sylvain's bed is king-sized, because a ho is gonna ho. And instead of a papery weapons collection he's got a generous walk-in closet with a full-length mirror. He's a man of Fashion. It's So Important to him.
okay now back to lowercase brackets. he peers curiously over Jason's shoulder, (but not so close that it's gay) ]
Whatcha fiddling with?
no subject
Sorry to Sylvain for Jason also.
He clicks the last piece of the body in place as Sylvain wanders over, and once he notched the magazine into the bottom, he just
very quickly turns around in place in the chair to press the barrel against Sylvain’s forehead. For, like, a couple of second’s, just long enough for Sylvain to maybe panic a bit.
It isn’t a joke he should play, but it’s fine. He pulls the gun back without any fingers near the trigger, and he puts it on top of the desk facing away.]
A gun. You know what those are?
[Because Royce didn’t despite being a Gunsmith, so. He just has to make sure.]
no subject
he'll give jason so many seconds before he retaliates, because he doesn't take kindly to bodily threats. not after miklan, not after the war. ]
Yeah, I do.
[ bro, quit clownin', ur scaring the hoes (sylvains) ]
no subject
It's eye-opening, too? Something Jason needs. He's very used to fucking around with the bad guys, throwing his weight, not that he thinks Sylvain is a bad guy. It's a way to put that wall between them.
Because he's worried getting attached in any way will just hurt more later.]
Good. They're dangerous. [...] Was that... you?
no subject
so even if jason's joke is in poor taste, he lets it slide. quick to anger but also quick to forget. (no harm, no foul.)
he smiles wryly ] I wasn't under the impression they weren't.
[ ? ] Was what me?
no subject
Very suddenly, he jumps to his feet to square up with Sylvain, screeching the chair, doing it like he's getting ready to fight, doing it like he's pretending to be angry and wild. Both icy blue eyes jump back and forth between Sylvain's. He's trying to spook Sylvain into having another--what? Blip of... whatever that was. He does it quick enough and just long enough to see if it'll happen again, but then he relaxes his stance, his shoulders, and his expression.
He wants to know if it's actually Sylvain. There's no way those were his feelings. He isn't scared or angry about guns.]
It was you.
no subject
now sylvain is actually kinda pissed. good will, suddenly evaporated. he immediately settles into a defensive stance, fists and hackles raised. he thinks jason is actually trying to pull something on him—fool him once, etc.
so even after jason relaxes, sylvain does not. he's going for a punch. ]
Well fuck you, too.
no subject
But he doesn't do anything else. He just holds it in place.
It's not a wimpy punch, though. Sylvain doesn't have a bad hook. It reverberates Jason's arm and stings the calloused skin of the inside of his hand. And that bounces from him to Sylvain, a ping pong of sharing.
His sharp blue eyes jump back and forth over Sylvain's face, trying to see if Sylvain's expression changes.]
Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. See? Did you feel it?
no subject
What the hell?
[ WHAT THE HELL...
he frowns up at jason. there is a long and measured silence, as he tries to process all this, before he says, ]
You couldn't have tried using words, first? [ BRUH ]
no subject
I didn't know if it was just me.
[He should have used words first, yeah, but he's a Bat. Sorry to Sylvain.]
You ever had this happen before? Were you in one of these before coming here? Did this kind of thing happen there?
no subject
Definitely not.
[ ... ] You think there's something in the water that's causing this?
[ he's thinking it akin to an infection...
grumbling, ] Like this place isn't confusing enough already.
no subject
It's probably more than just the water, if we're being honest.
[He hates this. There was none of these shenanigans during the game he was in before.]
So we're... what? Linked? Emotionally and physically? That's great. How long is this shit going to last? Don't really like the idea of you getting random readings on me all the time.
no subject
[ talk about invasion of privacy??? ]
I doubt either of us are the types to stay outta trouble, but we can try not to overdo it for now... [ SO HE SAYS... ]
Until we can figure out what's going on, anyway. I'll try asking around, see if anyone else's got the same... predicament.
no subject
Good luck to both of us.
[He rubs the socket of one eye tiredly. This will be fun when he is trying to explore.]
Alright. Though that only means this is worse rather than better.
no subject