Fayt Leingod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etherealblast) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lucetilogs2014-01-12 09:46 am
etherealblast) wrote in lucetilogs2014-01-12 09:46 am
(no subject)
Who: Fayt Leingod, Albel Nox, and later Cliff Fittir, Okita Souji and Law.
What: A spar gone awry.
When: January 13th, afternoon
Where: Battledome
Summary: Fayt is tired of Albel avoiding them over lingering discomfort from the mistletoe shift, and tries to help him regain a sense of normalcy the only way he knows might work.
Rating: PG-15 for violence and heavy injuries.
Fayt had given it nearly two weeks. Two weeks of Albel sulking around, avoiding so much as talking to him or even looking at him. He'd barely seen the man, and even when he had it had only been for a second or two before Albel darted off.
He wasn't an idiot. That Albel seemed to be avoiding him was obvious enough, and he supposed he should have expected him to react this way-- Fayt had shrugged off the shift just fine, long used to the Malnosso messing with them by now, but Albel obviously didn't know how to. Albel avoided physical and emotional affection like it was the black plague, and shifted or not it had probably made Fayt's presence difficult for him to deal with.
It was more than a little awkward. Albel was eccentrically reactive at the best of times, but Fayt felt bad for making him so uncomfortable, even if it wasn't technically his fault. He had to do something.
A few messages sent Albel's way over the journals to try to smooth things over had gotten no response, though that wasn't surprising. Fayt finally just decided on the direct approach, heading to the battledome where he knew he'd find Albel training more likely than not.
When he finds the room the swordsman is using, he walks right in. There would be no running away this time.
What: A spar gone awry.
When: January 13th, afternoon
Where: Battledome
Summary: Fayt is tired of Albel avoiding them over lingering discomfort from the mistletoe shift, and tries to help him regain a sense of normalcy the only way he knows might work.
Rating: PG-15 for violence and heavy injuries.
Fayt had given it nearly two weeks. Two weeks of Albel sulking around, avoiding so much as talking to him or even looking at him. He'd barely seen the man, and even when he had it had only been for a second or two before Albel darted off.
He wasn't an idiot. That Albel seemed to be avoiding him was obvious enough, and he supposed he should have expected him to react this way-- Fayt had shrugged off the shift just fine, long used to the Malnosso messing with them by now, but Albel obviously didn't know how to. Albel avoided physical and emotional affection like it was the black plague, and shifted or not it had probably made Fayt's presence difficult for him to deal with.
It was more than a little awkward. Albel was eccentrically reactive at the best of times, but Fayt felt bad for making him so uncomfortable, even if it wasn't technically his fault. He had to do something.
A few messages sent Albel's way over the journals to try to smooth things over had gotten no response, though that wasn't surprising. Fayt finally just decided on the direct approach, heading to the battledome where he knew he'd find Albel training more likely than not.
When he finds the room the swordsman is using, he walks right in. There would be no running away this time.
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His eyes droop a bit, but he blinks them open again. "...You didn't put any sedatives in this thing, did you?"
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Law shakes his head for a moment, faint smile disappearing as he watches Fayt slumber for a moment. Stable and on the mend. There's nothing more he can do now except monitor him.
Silently he leaves the room. If there are any visitors, they are going to have to wait. The man needs his rest.