[ pinocchio. ah. sounds like a story he knows, but he decides maybe that'd be a little weird to bring up at all? better judgement sometimes hits him during the right times. as he watches him examine the product, he just smiles. ]
I know, right? Seems like that last thing you want to put on your face. But it feels weirdly good. And sometimes the properties in it are supposed to help with stress and other things too, they add things to it so it isn't just mud.
[ as he watches the jar dangerously being shaken, nearly teetering on dumping all of the mud out, he reaches out with a soft "oops" leaving his lips, reaching to take the jar from him or at least tip it upwards again so it's not going to splat all over his palm. his hand flicks gently to the other's interesting metallic one, just quietly examining it for all of a second before shaking his head. ]
Easy, you just need a little on your fingers first.
[ he offers him an even warmer smile than before. ]
[ He can't even take credit, having stolen it from the pages of Krat's most beloved fairytale. Pinocchio has been called dozens of things — handsome, beautiful, idiot, rotten — and he's let these words roll off him like rain. So he's confused, when coming from another stranger it has an unfamiliar influence. A twinge of something.
Brusquely putting aside a feeling he regards as an outlier isn't even an option, because no sooner than he thinks he's moved on past it, his thick eyebrows jump up as Eiden takes first the jar and then his hand. Which, by itself is not earth-shattering. No one chooses to touch his Legion Arm outside of those who need to conduct maintenance and upgrades. Others regard his metal prosthetic with uncertainty, suspicion, and fear. Perhaps he's just that unused to a gentle, curious touch that isn't asking anything of him.
Or it could be the pheromones. It's probably the pheromones.
Outwardly, there is little to say of the slight part of his lips and his raised eyebrows; he rallies himself to nod. ]
Please.
[ Pinocchio doesn't particularly care about the effects of it on stress or skin condition, he's even dubious on whether it will be at all effective on someone whose body isn't even naturally organic. His motive for agreeing? His fascinating company and his easy, warm smile might find something better to do, and he's not ready to bid adieu just yet.
Compelled to prove he isn't utterly useless, he glances at the jar and cautiously dips the tips of his index and middle fingers into the clay-like substance inside, scooping out a portion. With a slight wrinkle of his nose, he eases it onto the bridge of his nose, smearing a clump of it from top to tip. ]
...I don't feel any different. Dirtier, I suppose.
Annnnd that sounds about right. Least we know they probably didn't mess around with this stuff, right?
[ he hasn't even considered the shampoo and soaps yet. eiden just.. laughs, but it is distinctively at the idea that yeah, it's fucking mud. it's definitely just super weird fancy mud. but that's kind of fun in it's own way. doesn't matter if they get dirty in a bath, right?
there's a feeling he gets that perhaps he could be careful, just careful enough. he's unfamiliar with this sort of mechanical work full stop, but he isn't afraid of it. he doesn't pull away, at least not unless the other does, doing the same to his own face. ]
Whatever, now we both match. Now, let me see...
[ he hums as he takes a bit of mud on his own fingers, and (if allowed!) brushes a bit onto both of the other's cheeks, stroking with the lightest touch, enough that he could pull back if he truly was uncomfortable. ]
This place is pretty weird, isn't it...? Are you doing alright with... I guess, settling in?
[ Laughter he's heard before — Eugenie's girlish giggle, Venigni's laughing exclamations when he's come up with an idea, he's heard mocking laughter, the deranged cackling of those who had gone mad. Eiden's simply feels good to hear, like feeling a sliver of sunshine break through clouds to land on one's face. It doesn't sound like something with any deeper meaning than amusement in it.
Oddly, he finds it eases his own self-consciousness. By the time Eiden's smeared some of the mud onto his own nose, it's gone entirely. Pinocchio doesn't laugh, but there's mirth in his blue eyes, a crinkle where they'd been solemn once.
And just like that, the ice is broken. A small show of consideration on the stranger's part, and Pinocchio is content to tip his face up for him, reluctantly basking in the unfamiliar pleasure of-- what does he call this, anyway? Does he care to name it at all? Permission looks like this: the eventual lowering of his eyelids, the implicit obedience of sitting still. Eiden isn't escaping without his turn, but for now... ]
...It isn't all that strange. [ Normally, when he lies, nothing happens. His eyebrows twitch at a peculiar sensation, but he ignores it. ] What about you? Are you settling in?
Really? [ he laughs a little, making sure to keep his touch light and smooth, bringing it down the other's jaw now as he works. eiden can't help but sigh a little bit. ] I guess so, not much of a choice... I've been taken from home before. And just when I started to get used to the other place.
[ to fall in love with that other place. insane and strange and kind of fucked up, but no less incredible and beautiful, eiden finds himself happy to have fallen into a wonderland he can't seem to climb out of. he doesn't even have it in him to lie about it anymore. he doesn't want to leave - even if the day came... he has no desire to assume his place back on earth.
he's a fraud, he can't even do magic - just stores it deep inside of himself until others need it, but... no one can say he hasn't don't anything. he's helped heal the altars, he's trying to unravel what he can.
he blinks a little and shakes his head, though gives pause at the eyebrow twitch. ] You okay? Did I get something in your eye? [ he's been very careful... ]
[ The question is met with a shake of his head. He's fine, of course he is, but... it's nice that he asked. Is he like this with everyone? If he does, while he's so focused on everyone else, who looks after him? ]
It's not you.
[ Pinocchio's explanation dodges the actual heart of the matter, but it's not technically a lie. He pauses, waiting to feel something... change. When nothing does, he presses on. ]
So you've been in a situation like this before?
[ To avoid distractions, he hooks his fingers around Eiden's wrist and pulls it down, searching his eyes with his own. It might even be a little sweet, if his face wasn't presently half masked in mud. ] I'm sorry. It must be hard to miss two homes.
[ he doesn't expect that, but his hand goes lax, trusting when the other pulls it down. eiden meets his eyes without a problem, blinking slowly before his lips twitch into a faint smile. ]
Yeah. I have... it's... complicated.
[ it's not, but he lets the smile on his lips try and carry the rest. it's fine.. instead finally letting his own eyes drop, closing as he tries to remind himself that he can't let that other place go, what's more he can't let it be taken from him like this. ]
But... have to keep going, right? What about you? Your home?
[ tilting his head a bit, fingers shifting to brush the other's wrist as well. maybe the hot water just makes him sappy, or maybe he just wants to feel like he can do something, help with something, anything, even if it's just talking. ]
[ What strength it must take, to lose not just one home, but two. To call it 'complicated' and yet not let the weight of it pull the smile away from his face. Rather than lead Pinocchio to doubt his own strength, when he continues to worry about the people he's left behind in a collapsed Krat, he wonders what might be so different in Eiden's world that he doesn't sink under the weight of its memory.
Perhaps he shared its weight with many shoulders. Maybe the strength isn't just his alone. Perhaps--
have to keep going
--there isn't any other choice. This is the one that makes the most sense, or maybe it's just the way Eiden has sought a connection, by touching him in turn. Pinocchio reflexively thinks to give him some pretty little lie, a harmless falsehood that was sure to put his heart at ease. They could talk about Eiden... or he could connect with him, and be sincere. When he might have unerringly chosen the former, he chooses the latter. ] ...Yes. But I have to keep going.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ pinocchio. ah. sounds like a story he knows, but he decides maybe that'd be a little weird to bring up at all? better judgement sometimes hits him during the right times. as he watches him examine the product, he just smiles. ]
I know, right? Seems like that last thing you want to put on your face. But it feels weirdly good. And sometimes the properties in it are supposed to help with stress and other things too, they add things to it so it isn't just mud.
[ as he watches the jar dangerously being shaken, nearly teetering on dumping all of the mud out, he reaches out with a soft "oops" leaving his lips, reaching to take the jar from him or at least tip it upwards again so it's not going to splat all over his palm. his hand flicks gently to the other's interesting metallic one, just quietly examining it for all of a second before shaking his head. ]
Easy, you just need a little on your fingers first.
[ he offers him an even warmer smile than before. ]
Want me to show you how it works?
<s>Maybe it's Mabelline</s>
Brusquely putting aside a feeling he regards as an outlier isn't even an option, because no sooner than he thinks he's moved on past it, his thick eyebrows jump up as Eiden takes first the jar and then his hand. Which, by itself is not earth-shattering. No one chooses to touch his Legion Arm outside of those who need to conduct maintenance and upgrades. Others regard his metal prosthetic with uncertainty, suspicion, and fear. Perhaps he's just that unused to a gentle, curious touch that isn't asking anything of him.
Or it could be the pheromones. It's probably the pheromones.
Outwardly, there is little to say of the slight part of his lips and his raised eyebrows; he rallies himself to nod. ]
Please.
[ Pinocchio doesn't particularly care about the effects of it on stress or skin condition, he's even dubious on whether it will be at all effective on someone whose body isn't even naturally organic. His motive for agreeing? His fascinating company and his easy, warm smile might find something better to do, and he's not ready to bid adieu just yet.
Compelled to prove he isn't utterly useless, he glances at the jar and cautiously dips the tips of his index and middle fingers into the clay-like substance inside, scooping out a portion. With a slight wrinkle of his nose, he eases it onto the bridge of his nose, smearing a clump of it from top to tip. ]
...I don't feel any different. Dirtier, I suppose.
no subject
[ he hasn't even considered the shampoo and soaps yet. eiden just.. laughs, but it is distinctively at the idea that yeah, it's fucking mud. it's definitely just super weird fancy mud. but that's kind of fun in it's own way. doesn't matter if they get dirty in a bath, right?
there's a feeling he gets that perhaps he could be careful, just careful enough. he's unfamiliar with this sort of mechanical work full stop, but he isn't afraid of it. he doesn't pull away, at least not unless the other does, doing the same to his own face. ]
Whatever, now we both match. Now, let me see...
[ he hums as he takes a bit of mud on his own fingers, and (if allowed!) brushes a bit onto both of the other's cheeks, stroking with the lightest touch, enough that he could pull back if he truly was uncomfortable. ]
This place is pretty weird, isn't it...? Are you doing alright with... I guess, settling in?
no subject
Oddly, he finds it eases his own self-consciousness. By the time Eiden's smeared some of the mud onto his own nose, it's gone entirely. Pinocchio doesn't laugh, but there's mirth in his blue eyes, a crinkle where they'd been solemn once.
And just like that, the ice is broken. A small show of consideration on the stranger's part, and Pinocchio is content to tip his face up for him, reluctantly basking in the unfamiliar pleasure of-- what does he call this, anyway? Does he care to name it at all? Permission looks like this: the eventual lowering of his eyelids, the implicit obedience of sitting still. Eiden isn't escaping without his turn, but for now... ]
...It isn't all that strange. [ Normally, when he lies, nothing happens. His eyebrows twitch at a peculiar sensation, but he ignores it. ] What about you? Are you settling in?
no subject
[ to fall in love with that other place. insane and strange and kind of fucked up, but no less incredible and beautiful, eiden finds himself happy to have fallen into a wonderland he can't seem to climb out of. he doesn't even have it in him to lie about it anymore. he doesn't want to leave - even if the day came... he has no desire to assume his place back on earth.
he's a fraud, he can't even do magic - just stores it deep inside of himself until others need it, but... no one can say he hasn't don't anything. he's helped heal the altars, he's trying to unravel what he can.
he blinks a little and shakes his head, though gives pause at the eyebrow twitch. ] You okay? Did I get something in your eye? [ he's been very careful... ]
no subject
It's not you.
[ Pinocchio's explanation dodges the actual heart of the matter, but it's not technically a lie. He pauses, waiting to feel something... change. When nothing does, he presses on. ]
So you've been in a situation like this before?
[ To avoid distractions, he hooks his fingers around Eiden's wrist and pulls it down, searching his eyes with his own. It might even be a little sweet, if his face wasn't presently half masked in mud. ] I'm sorry. It must be hard to miss two homes.
no subject
Yeah. I have... it's... complicated.
[ it's not, but he lets the smile on his lips try and carry the rest. it's fine.. instead finally letting his own eyes drop, closing as he tries to remind himself that he can't let that other place go, what's more he can't let it be taken from him like this. ]
But... have to keep going, right? What about you? Your home?
[ tilting his head a bit, fingers shifting to brush the other's wrist as well. maybe the hot water just makes him sappy, or maybe he just wants to feel like he can do something, help with something, anything, even if it's just talking. ]
You miss it?
no subject
Perhaps he shared its weight with many shoulders. Maybe the strength isn't just his alone. Perhaps--
have to keep going
--there isn't any other choice. This is the one that makes the most sense, or maybe it's just the way Eiden has sought a connection, by touching him in turn. Pinocchio reflexively thinks to give him some pretty little lie, a harmless falsehood that was sure to put his heart at ease. They could talk about Eiden... or he could connect with him, and be sincere. When he might have unerringly chosen the former, he chooses the latter. ] ...Yes. But I have to keep going.