genessia | [ action | closed ] nothing’s what it seems to be, I’m a replica, I’m a replica

xxxxxempty shell inside of me
xxxxxI'm not myself, I'm a replica of me...

Who: Sanzo and Amberdrake
What: Drake has had a bad night.
When: Now-ish?
Where: Attleton, Drake and Sanzo's house.
Warnings: Violence against plumbing. ...Actual plumbing. Talk of sexual abuse against (NPC) minors (by other NPCs).

- - - - -

As always, Amberdrake managed to keep his calm and serene professional mask in place until after he'd closed the front door behind him. It was more important than ever that he do so, now that Ukoku was lurking about.

He leaned back against the solid door and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders slump. The birds who had left with him earlier in the day had returned with him tonight, fluttering off and away with suspicious silence.

There was a storm brewing inside the kestra'chern.

Amberdrake walked into the kitchen and pulled the curtains shut, despite it being dark outside. He'd intended to just get himself a glass of water, or maybe make some tea, but ten minutes went by and he just stared at the dripping faucet. It had been doing that, just a little tiny bit, for a week. Neither he nor Sanzo had any idea how to fix modern plumbing, nor the idea that they should call someone else to do it.

Before Drake even knew what he was doing, he'd pulled a hammer out of a drawer and was beating the faucet with it.

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Sanzo snapped awake, his first reaction to the noise was to snatch his gun from the bedside table and spring out of bed, fully expecting a crowd of youkai to be in the room with him. Nothing. The noise wasn't coming from their room. He lowered the gun, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark. There was no moonlight tonight, surly rain clouds crowded the sky tonight.

So the noise...? It had to be Drake, he couldn't think of who else would be making that racket and, at the same time, was not trying to gut him. Sanzo kept the gun in hand as he made his way down the stairs, just in case.

Amberdrake was in the kitchen and, yes, he was the source of the noise. He was... attacking the sink? Sanzo wondered for a brief, panicked second, if Drake had taken some kind of head injury, but no, he was just attacking the sink. Feeling not so happy.

Sanzo frowned and walked into the kitchen, setting the gun down on the counter as he approached Drake.

"Drake?" he asked in a low, wary voice.

Drake gave the faucet a final hard whack, knocking it loose. It crashed into the sink. He stared down at it, still gripping the hammer. His emotions were a storm, dark and roiling and crackling.

He threw the hammer into the sink hard enough to dent the metal basin, and then turned around to grab Sanzo in a hug, burying his face against the monk's shoulder.

Sanzo grunted in surprise, stiff in Drake's arms a moment before he cautiously put his arms around him. Something was up. Ukoku? Or a client? Drake often came home terribly exhausted. Sanzo cut off that line of thinking, it would only get him agitated and then he would not be as calm as he needed to be.

"Come sit down," he said in a low, soft voice.

Drake let himself be led to wherever Sanzo wanted them to go sit.

"It's not Ukoku," the kestra'chern muttered. That was a good disclaimer to get out of the way, he figured.

Sanzo took his hand and led him into the next room, pulling him over to the couch. He sat and tugged at Drake's hand. Sit down, please?

"Will you tell me what it is?" he asked, shooing away the relief he felt. Drake was upset but he didn't seem hurt, not physically.

Amberdrake sat beside Sanzo and leaned against him, as though huddling for warmth.

"One hears about many evil things, as a kestra'chern," he murmured, "every day. Sometimes, it just... gets to you. Sometimes, it's just too much..."

Sanzo put his arms around Drake and held him tightly, tighter than he intended, a sudden flash of protective anger running through him. Who did what to hurt Drake, who was so solid against so much bullshit? Sanzo wanted to have words with this person. Or gunfire.

"Are you cold?" Sanzo wanted to know what happened, what he could do to help, but first, Drake's comfort.

"Mn, only a little," Amberdrake rested the side of his head against Sanzo's shoulder.

"I hear things every day, you know? Survivor's guilt from a sibling who lay terrified in bed every night as a child while their parent hurt their sibling across the room... things like that. Every day. Sometimes, though, it's ongoing, and that's the hardest to deal with..."

Drake shuddered.

"If I asked you to shoot someone's kneecaps out, would you do it?"

Sanzo pressed his cheek against the top of Drake's head, anger and resignation chewing away at him. He wasn't surprised, he doubted Drake was either, not that it made it any easier to deal with. Sanzo could do his best to distance himself, detach, pick a greater battle to fight. Drake couldn't do any of that, Sanzo didn't know how he stood it.

"Why stop at the kneecaps?" Sanzo had shot people for less, he had no problem with that element of it.

"Well... go wild, but don't kill him."

Amberdrake looped his arms around Sanzo's waist.

"If you kill him, his kids lose each other, their house, their friends, their pets... they get put into the adoption system and... mm. It's better to just completely cripple him."

He knew Sanzo would be very thorough about it! Just that knowledge made Amberdrake feel a little better.

"He'll live." Barely. Sanzo wasn't much to actively dole out justice, at least not without complaint. He could afford the occasional exception.

"Is that all that prompted the... hammer?" Sanzo had seen Drake mad before, specifically at him, but this was different, and not quite anger. The piece of garbage he'd be shooting later was to-be-dealt-with, if there was more, Sanzo wanted to try to help with that too.

"It just gets to me sometimes," Drake shut his eyes, "the things I hear, the assumptions people make about what I do... it's just... it's just a lot."

He sighed. Amberdrake hadn't even realized he was hitting the faucet with a hammer until it broke.

"Most kestra'chern, you know, they go to other kestra'chern to deal with this sort of thing. But that's never been an option for me. Even on my world."

Drake had no equal, let alone someone above him. There were unique burdens to being the top of one's field.

And Sanzo was even more unqualified to help with this. His flavor of advice was blunt and harsh, when it was offered at all. Much of it focused on being self-serving in some way, the antithesis of Amberdrake's entire career.

"Is that the only thing that could help you?" he asked after a long pause to think. It couldn't be, yet any observations Sanzo could make would be astoundingly hypocritical and turned against him.

Amberdrake considered for a few moments, and a shiver ran through him. Ah, the cold that always followed any kind of distress...

"Let's go upstairs and take a soak," he offered, lifting one of Sanzo's hands in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. It wasn't a lewd suggestion, though it was certainly intimate. Nothing they hadn't done before, however.

Sanzo watched Drake for a long moment, debating saying more, but no, not right now. It was too easy to ruin what he could help with by saying the wrong thing.

"I'll start the water then." He pulled away from Drake and got to his feet. Instead of heading for the stairs, however, he paused, waiting for Drake's response. Would he follow Sanzo up the stairs or wait here?

Amberdrake got up, too, and snaked an arm 'round Sanzo's. He'd rather stay close, now that he was done destroying the kitchen plumbing.

"I suppose there's someone we can call about the sink," he sighed. He hadn't meant to destroy anything, but sometimes that was what one needed to do. Sanzo undoubtedly understood that better than many.

With the answer given, and Drake in tow, Sanzo went for the stairs, sparing a quick glance at the kitchen on the way.

"It'll wait until morning." It's not like anyone would be available this time of night anyway.

[ action | closed ] nothing’s what it seems to be, I’m a replica, I’m a replica

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