Fridtjof Djt-bidit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paladinforhire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pluviosa2024-07-12 09:28 pm
paladinforhire) wrote in pluviosa2024-07-12 09:28 pm
[Open] words within the squall
Who: Fridtjof and Open
What: Doing various tasks around the ship, Fridtjof is open for bothering.
Where: Deck R3, Deck 0, Deck R2
When: Day 23+, after the info meeting
Warnings: /shrug but possibly zone 6 Endwalker spoilers
The Bun is In
Fridtjof is often found in the clinic - the one Ratio's taken over, at least. He's slowly learning about the different kinds of medicines, even if some of them seem a bit... redundant to him. Even still, he's doing his best - and so he finds himself humming to himself as he sorts papers or writes down notes.
If he hears someone come in he'll look up. "Ah, hello. What can I do for you?" Or maybe they just heard his tune? It's jaunty, but not something he can really do without a full orchestra. And he's no bard, anyway.
Whistle While You Whittle
Where he does start singing is when he's sitting on the top deck. He's got a large knife and a hunk of wood. Whatever it is he's singing, it sounds pretty melancholy. He's stripping pieces from the wood slowly with his blade and working on making it roughly circular.
He doesn't look busy at least, so he might as well be pestered. Given the tone of what he's singing he might well welcome the distraction. He seems a bit lost in thought, though a sudden noise is sure to draw his attention.
Washing Away
He... isn't used to this kind of machinery. He's got a bundle of sheets in his arms and is staring at the washing machines. Tentatively he presses a button and jumps back when the machine starts to rumble. He presses the button again to try to stop it but it's... not stopping.
He's not even sure what he should use as soap. He does have a good amount of dirt in his sheets. He tries to keep it clean but... well. One can only track through decks covered in plants and not get things dirty for so long.
Help. Help this poor man.
What: Doing various tasks around the ship, Fridtjof is open for bothering.
Where: Deck R3, Deck 0, Deck R2
When: Day 23+, after the info meeting
Warnings: /shrug but possibly zone 6 Endwalker spoilers
The Bun is In
Fridtjof is often found in the clinic - the one Ratio's taken over, at least. He's slowly learning about the different kinds of medicines, even if some of them seem a bit... redundant to him. Even still, he's doing his best - and so he finds himself humming to himself as he sorts papers or writes down notes.
If he hears someone come in he'll look up. "Ah, hello. What can I do for you?" Or maybe they just heard his tune? It's jaunty, but not something he can really do without a full orchestra. And he's no bard, anyway.
Whistle While You Whittle
Where he does start singing is when he's sitting on the top deck. He's got a large knife and a hunk of wood. Whatever it is he's singing, it sounds pretty melancholy. He's stripping pieces from the wood slowly with his blade and working on making it roughly circular.
He doesn't look busy at least, so he might as well be pestered. Given the tone of what he's singing he might well welcome the distraction. He seems a bit lost in thought, though a sudden noise is sure to draw his attention.
Washing Away
He... isn't used to this kind of machinery. He's got a bundle of sheets in his arms and is staring at the washing machines. Tentatively he presses a button and jumps back when the machine starts to rumble. He presses the button again to try to stop it but it's... not stopping.
He's not even sure what he should use as soap. He does have a good amount of dirt in his sheets. He tries to keep it clean but... well. One can only track through decks covered in plants and not get things dirty for so long.
Help. Help this poor man.
Washing Away!
He'd looked up because he'd heard a panicked gasp and bare feet slapping the floor. He blinks, recognizing Fridtjof from his time in the clinic. For someone who seemed to have other outfits stored in gemstones, seeing him so dressed down and ruffled is a surprise.
Federico is not in uniform, but he still wishes to help the passengers of this ship. Especially its doctors. So he stands, approaching the healer. He...appears to be attempting to stop the machine, or revert it to its previous state. Federico presses the dial to halt the wash, making communication easier.
"Signore Fridtjof. Are you...alright?" he asks. He is not the most skilled at reading people, but he looks...upset.
no subject
"I'm... fine. I am not good with machinery." His mouth presses into a thin, displeased line. "I know this is supposed to wash my sheets and clothing but I don't... know how it works. I'm used to washing things at a riverbed or at the shore of a lake. In a washtub if there's none available..." He sets the sheets down and seems to struggle for a moment before he finds where the handle is. Peering inside there appear to be some articles of clothing - his healing outfit, it seems. The armor he has to clean by hand.
"I saw other people put things in here and take them out, but... ah. I suppose I should have asked for help."
The Bun is In
"Oh, Fridtjof! Nothing, I just heard singing... What are you doing?"
no subject
“I see. Do you not have this form of technology in your world?” He asks, peering over the machine to see if there are any malfunctions present. He looks into the basin and nods. “We have a version of this on the Rhodes Island landship. I…work well with machinery, and can help.” Without waiting for acceptance on the matter, he grabs the nearby box of detergent. “I can see you have forgotten the soap. For one set of clothing…pour in a half cup- a handful’s worth, roughly. That should suffice. I will explain further one you do so.”
He eyes the bundle of bedsheets, noting the dirt from traveling through plants and the like. “Have you shaken those out yet?”
no subject
no subject
Really he should have changed into something else when he got into bed but some days he was just too tired. "I... didn't know what that was. So I didn't recognize it as soap." Now that it's open he can smell it - he should have noticed it was some kind of laundry powder. Oh well. "So about two onzes, looks like." He takes the box from Federico and pours in a little soap.
"I wanted to try with just a few things at first in case I... got it wrong..."
no subject
no subject
Not all of them, and he wasn't there for too long before he was dragged to another world, but... it's still a special place for him. "There's a number of city-states in that area of the world - Limsa Lominsa, Ul'dah, Gridania, Ishgard, and Ala Mhigo. 'Eorzea' refers to the continent of Aldenard and the islands around it, but it's not the continent I come from."
no subject
"Where are you from, then? ...Have I told you where I'm from?"
no subject
"But I'm from the continent of Othard, sort of near what people in Eorzea call 'the far East'. Though usually that's referring to north Othard, but I'm from the Golmore Jungle in the south. Technically part of the Kingdom of Dalmasca, even if they mostly left us alone." He pauses, looking away. "Though many would claim the kingdom doesn't exist anymore after the Garlean Empire destroyed the capital. I have..." He can tell her, it's fine. "We work with the Garleans now - the people, not most of the generals that destroyed so many lives. But it's... it's difficult."
To look at someone who would have killed you for being a 'savage' not too long ago and offer a helping hand. He knows it's the right thing to do, and yet... it's difficult. "Their capital was destroyed in a civil war, their entire existence as an empire orchestrated by someone who only wanted to sow chaos. Those who ruled previously are dead and their country is subsisting on assistance from the Grand Company of Eorzea. ... Despite the fact that they tried to invade. I... have my own feelings about that." And they're Complicated, and he's still wrestling with them even after all this time.
But he looks back at her, gathering himself. "No, you haven't."
Whistle While You Whittle (and have a cookie eventually)
🎶Tales of loss and fire and faith...Every word on our hearts engraved...In the dark, you will not stray🎶
He blinks, the lyrics seeming...hopeful, yet still sad, somehow. They remind him of when....when his sister spoke of dawn with him. And he recognizes the voice, he thinks. It's these factors that draw him over...
It's...Fridtjof. Right. Of course. Part of him wants to cover his face and walk the other way, actually. Aventurine's having a hard time coming to terms with...what he ended up blabbing about in that time before the jump. And Fridtjof was very gracious about it, but it's still so embarrassing. Still...he's been forcing himself to face this. With cookies. He has one for this man too.
He also has a doctor's appointment with this viera. Aventurine sighs.
So he approaches, box of treats tucked under his arm, making his steps easy to hear. He leans against the railing as Fridtjof sings his song, not wanting to interrupt. Aventurine...likes music. He likes stories. This one is quite captivating, heartening.
🎶Forge ahead, 'til the end, we pray...🎶
"That's beautiful. A song from your home?" he asks softly, not wanting to shatter the mood. He sets the box down then grabs the railing and swings down so he's sitting beside the viera, his legs hanging off the deck. "It sounded a little sad though. But not. I'm not sure I've heard something like that before."
nom nom (also end of Endwalker spoilers)
"Our deeds - the deeds of the group I was associated with - tend to get... embellished a bit and turned into songs by bards. Mykha's deeds most of all. But the place we went to... despite the fact that few believe we actually went there, it was very real."
He sets the knife down as well as the wood and looks at him, hands settling next to him. He doesn't want to appear threatening by holding a knife. "But I mean, no one with sense would believe that there was 'a place made out of pure emotion at the edge of existence'. That's just ridiculous." He huffs softly and shakes his head. "I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't been there."
Still... still sometimes it feels like a bad dream. And the dark smoke around him, and the feeling of being and then not being - he blinks. He's fine. All that gives away his thoughts is a slight frown. "Ah... anyway. Just wandering? Or is something troubling you? ... I'm glad you seem better than you were before."
no subject
"Understood. There are several forms of soap in my world. Powdered form in a box was most common on Rhodes Island for it's convenience and portability, but Laterano would often have liquid soap in most households. As you have likely seen neither, it is understandable you would not know." But now he does. "...I am not familiar with that form of measurement, but the amount appears adequate."
"That is wise. Our clothing options are limited here, which would make mistakes more disastrous." He looks to his own washing load. "In my dorm, I had six other identical sets of my uniform that I would wear on and off duty. This is now my only uniform....it is fortunate that the robes are available as an alternative."
He pauses for another moment. He's not the most skilled at reading people but..."Signore Fridtjof. If I may...did the machine only startle you because you did not understand how it functioned?" The man had moved like someone flinching from the sound of a gun.
no subject
He nods and glances down. "I tend to wear my white mage outfit as more 'casual' clothing, but I really do need more clothing. Even just pants and a shirt would be helpful. It's a shame Mykha isn't here, they could probably unravel this robe and weave a new shirt easily. And weaver's tools are a bit easier to make than carpentry tools - and there's nothing here we can skin for leathermaking."
The question has him blink and - oh. Ah. Well. "This... thing reminds me of magitek. It's not the same and it's not a weapon, but I am... suspicious of large metal machines that make sudden loud noises for good reason. I spent nearly fifty summers learning how to repel enemies that included large metal machines making sudden loud noises. I suppose my reaction is just... excessive, but it's not without merit."
a snickerdoodle for you-dle (also brief mention of Endwalker spoilers)
And for Fridtjof...his incredible journey sounds very real. He does appreciate the knife being put down too; Aventurine didn't realize the tension in his own shoulders until it eased. Huh. He grabs the box and hands the man a cookie as he talks. He seems....haunted. Even as he says it's all ridiculous.
"I mean, I believe you," Aventurine says easily, giving a small shrug. "I was in the realm of the Nihility- errr, sort of a god of nothingness- before this, which was this just...vast ocean of black, and a void on the horizon no matter where I looked. I...could walk on the waters for awhile but..." He bites down on a grimace. "So you speak of a place made of pure emotion...while I was somewhere that existed because of the absence of it. Or something. Interesting matching yet opposite experiences, huh? It sounds crazy, and probably messes with you a bit..." The gambler looks to Fridtjof. "Since I believe you, feel free to talk with me about it whenever. If...you want, of course." He knows he has to be in the right headspace to even think about his last mission...
He sighs, resting his chin on the railing, looking out at the wastes below. "Little bit of both, I guess. It's nice to get out since the rain is done," he hums, swinging his legs over the drop. Fridtjof gives his well wishes, and Aventurine turns his head away, trying to seem as if he's just looking at something. His ears go tellingly pink, though. "Th...Thanks. That was. Um. Yeah, thank you. That's another reason I'm 'wandering'...several people stopped by then and I'm delivering some treats f-for their troubles. That's...all."
It takes him a moment to school his expression again. He looks over again, his cheeks still faintly pink. "Some things are kinda fuzzy actually, but I do remember getting asked to drop by later. The clinic, though. That...doesn't have to be now. I don't want to bother you with work when you're off the clock," he says, giving a wry smile.
(Endwalker spoilers will continue until morale improves (until thread end probably))
Talking about it is... hard. Basically impossible to get the words to explain properly. It feels stupid to even try. Maybe he's the stupid one for not trying, but... mm.
"You don't have to give me payment. I mean, I appreciate it, but I'm not exactly running a business here. If I were, usually the payment would be in coin. Though we don't really have an economy here." Maybe he should be grateful for that. "Anyway... yeah, I was just... whittling to keep myself busy. You seem to be okay now, though. I'm glad."
It's tempting to ruffle the younger man's hair but it's also probably really rude, so he refrains. He misses casual touch - too many people here seem to have issues and he doesn't know them well enough. "Though I'm used to being always 'on the clock'. We can figure out a time for you to swing by later."
He falls silent for a few long moments before speaking up again. "... Despair's a rough thing to deal with. I'm sorry that you had to. Sometimes everything gets so much that you wish you didn't feel anything, just to spare yourself the pain - but being a person is about learning to embrace the good and the bad, the hope amidst the sorrow. You deserve hope, not despair." Everyone does, but he's trying to make a point.
His head dips and he takes a breath. The other man should understand, he wrestles with similar issues, but - "Do you - do you struggle with trying to figure out who you are, too?"
Have a cookie for morale!!! ((Endwalker spoilers probably))
Aventurine's face gets a little pink again, remembering how they talked about transaction when he was. Not himself. How Fridtjof's answers really reassured him. That it gets easier. And yet here he is..."I uh...yeah I guess not. Credits are useless here. It's just...sometimes something physical...helps?" With all the twisted truths in his life, it's...something that helped him solidify his sincerity. "I'm. I mean yeah I still feel like I have to, that's...hard to shake, but I also want to, y'know?" He keeps holding out the box if the viera really wants one. Aventurine himself takes a cookie too to make it more equal.
And he still sputters a bit when Fridtjof says he's grateful he's better. Aventurine is...so not accustomed at receiving comments like that. "Thank....you. I uh. Thanks. I'm just glad the jump and possession stuff and the rain is over," he laughs, awkward. He looks to the project the viera set aside. "What were you whittling by the way?" He asks in one part curiosity, one part trying to change the subject. There are entirely too many earnest people on this ship; they make it very hard to maintain a good poker face. Seriously.
"Even better reason to take your downtime seriously!" he chuckles, giving Fridtjof a light, friendly nudge with his shoulder. "We got enough workaholics around here, take the time you can. I'll drop by and see you in a day or two. That okay?" It's not like it's abnormal for him. Ratio bothering is also a favorite pastime for Aventurine, and the doctor practically lived in the clinic these days.
The gambler blinks at the talk of despair, hope...the want to not feel anything. And yet he knows both first and secondhand how...awful emptiness was, whether it's drowning in nothingness itself or being hollowed out by Aurelia's hunger, experiencing what she does all the time...he can't brush this aside as flowery talk. He's experienced very real things like this, and clearly Fridtjof has too. People turning into monsters, likely before his very eyes...he can only imagine.
"It's...okay. What's funny is I'm doing...better? Since I went there. People helped me there too, gave their perspective on...why we live when we're only going to die. And...while I'm still finding my own answer, it still...helped." Acheron's insight, Ratio's letter...this conversation now. "Hope is...difficult to see, sometimes. I see it like a game. Winning loses its fun if you win all the time, so it's actually...good to lose a game now and again. A hope for luck, for a win. You don't really get that without losing. So yeah...good and bad..." He looks to Fridtjof, still embarrassed but trying. "You...deserve hope too." He probably knows that already. Still. Still.
Figuring out who you are? Aventurine thinks that over...Fridtjof is one of the few who actually...knows...he hums, giving the Viera another nudge with his shoulder. "Yeah. Sometimes. This ghost stuff did not help, that's for sure," he huffs, slumping against the railing. "And...you know my real name. It's...I don't know. I think that's more me than me...I think that's kind of who you met when I was...like that, before. But other times I feel like he's...buried in what I am now...or this is all I am, all I'll ever be." And he doesn't like it, most of the time. "...It's hard to say." His eyes flick to Fridtjof. "Are you...working through something like that lately?" His voice is quieter, hesitant, but a genuine invitation nonetheless.
nom nom (also 6.2 spoilers)
The stumbling just makes him smile as he takes a cookie. It's fine, he understands. It's hard, and he nudges the other a little bit back in response. "It's - ah. I was trying to carve my friend's face. I don't know... it was just... ah, it's silly, but I want them here with me in a way. I just wish they were here... they always seem to know what to do even if they keep getting trouble attracted to them." Apparently being the Warrior of Light just means 'constant trouble'.
"But it's good that you're going to stop by. I just want to give you a check-over, just to make sure." He's been forced into healer mode and he will take it seriously. "I think... I'm doing better too. I was just sort of living for other people before. But talking to all of the people in Ultima Thule... especially the Omicrons. They're like... mechanical beings. And they mostly don't have their own identities. And it made me think a lot about... what makes me, me."
G'raha's speech helped, but it was a lot of thinking on his own afterwards. And the voidsent that mingled their essences together... what is it that made them themselves? "I... a little. I was someone different before. I had a different name that I was born with, but that wasn't myself. I chose a name that was masculine, that means 'warrior', because that was more me than the feminine name I was given." He shrugs a little bit, though his face doesn't match the casual gesture. "And I probably should have changed my name again when I left the Wood, because I can't go back. It's just... not allowed. But I... I guess I haven't found a new name that expresses who I am. Who I've become, and who I want to be."
He leans against the railing and closes his eyes. "I know I should just 'heed the advice of my heart', but it's a vague thing to try to do. I don't know where I want to go from here. I want to help my friend, but what do I want? And who is it who wants it - the part of me that wants adventure? The part of me that wants to help people? Or some other part of me? I feel... some days I feel like I don't know myself. That all I know is other people because of this power I've been given, but I -"
Pause. Take a deep breath. He lets it out slowly. "I don't know myself. No one really does, but I feel like I should. I know what I can do, I know what I'm good at, but that's not the same as knowing yourself. I can say all the nice words to other people that I want, but does any of it mean anything if I don't know who is 'me'?"
Helloooo it's been awhile here's a chonker
Being nudged back makes him relax a bit, as well as a cookie being taken. Acceptance, in a fashion. He listens, nodding. "Crafting a resemblance like that in wood sounds difficult, but it looks like you were on the right track." Wishing they were here, because they know all the answers where he is lost...that does strike a chord. "It's not silly, I think. I get it." He smirks. "And how else would you get answers without attracting a little trouble? Certified trouble magnet speaking here."
He does keep looking to the wood block, mulling something over. Then finally..."Can...hm. Can you teach me how to carve? Nothing complicated, but it looks nice to do. There's not alot to do on this boat, and it drives me a little insane sometimes," he chuckles. There's only so many games of Solitaire he can play before the thoughts grow too loud once again.
Aventurine sighs, smiling, clearly tired but obviously better than. Well. Before. "Thanks. Maybe tomorrow." The concern is still new territory to him, but maybe it's just a doctor/healer thing. As for sense of self, what one lives for...he thinks of Acheron, a self-annihilator, taking the time on the precipice of the Nihility itself to talk with him, to share her views on life. "That stuff is harder to figure out. Takes time. I'm glad to hear you're doing better with it...there's alot to enjoy for yourself, for sure," he hums, smiling. It's oddly easier for him to find here, without the IPC bearing down on him, waiting for him to slip up.
Aventurine listens attentively, bright yet lightless eyes trained somewhere at the junction of Fridtjof's ear and hair. Showing he's listening without staring the man down. Masculine, someone else....oh. Oh it's...he's....oooooh. "It's a good name. Especially if it feels right to you. If it did anyway..." His brow furrows. "You're not allowed to go back? That's..." he shakes his head. "Sorry. Not my place to judge. Still...sorry. Home is a part of who you are, I think, so having to leave it forever is..." It hurts. Even he visits Sigonia-IV occasionally, even if it isn't-it can't- be home anymore.
He sucks in a breath as he listens, starting to fidget and kick his feet again, unable to sit still as he thinks it over. This is stuff he struggles to understand himself...who's he to give advice on it? "Understanding that....takes time I think. I...my whole name thing. It's less to do with gender and more with..." His face scrunches up for a moment. There's literally no reason to not go by his real name here. There isn't. And yet the thought terrifies him. Is he even that person anymore? If not, then who is he? "Safety. I guess. I don't know. But...maybe one day, y'know?"
He tucks his own hair back as the wind blows. He scoots a little closer to Fridtjof, not really knowing how else to offer comfort and answers. "I know alot about reading people. I know this is hard for you to say, and...I would know how to play that to my advantage in a game or a deal." He laughs, a sharp, bitter edge to it.
"Finding answers? That's harder." He shrugs, staring at the horizon resolutely, the light painting his face pink before he can show his own embarrassment. "....what you said to me, back before the ship jumped. I remember it, and...it matters. It...meant alot to me. Even if you're not sure who you are, it still mattered? And that's...that's okay." He flops over the railing, going quieter. "Just...do what feels good. Don't rush it. "Follow your heart" is way too corny and vague, you're right, but there's some truth to it. Just...act in the way that seems right to you, and maybe who you are will make sense eventually? I don't know...that's what I've been kinda trying." He scratches at his neck. "Haven't really put it into words before, though."
om nom nom
He smiles sadly. "No, you can't. It's seen as a betrayal of our code, the Green Word. We're forbidden from interacting with the outside world unless it's absolutely necessary. At least on my world. On another, it's not the Green Word but their oath to the last emperor of the civilization that used to live there... but the effect is largely the same. They're a bit more permissive of outsiders, but... ah, I'm getting off topic." He can talk about the First some other time.
The fidgeting gets a small smile. The other man really is childlike in some ways... though saying so would probably be offensive. "Safety is a valid concern for changing your name. Some have names that are only really used by their families. Some have no reason to change their name, but it's still rude to not accept them when they do." He reaches over and puts an arm around Aventurine's shoulders - not tightly, giving him room to scoot away if he wants.
"Oh, I have centuries to decide if I don't do something stupid." He flashes a bit of a cheeky grin. "At least two and a half, but we'll see. I'm not the person I was several years ago, and I'm not the person I was a decade ago. If I didn't listen to what I thought was right... I would have never left. I felt I could serve the Wood and the world at the same time even if... that's not what most of my people would think." Mykha did it, so why can't he? Even if they're not allowed back, either... "But I think... I think that if my heart leads me to adventure, that's enough for me. If it leads me to follow in the wake of someone I look up to, I think that's enough as well."
The horizon is vast and... not a little worrying from what he's seeing, but he's still excited to see what lies beyond it. He might not be the Traveler, but he can still be a traveler. He still has the heart of an adventurer, even now.
yes he will take the cance to cuddle the bunny (kinda)
"I...see." He doesn't, not really. He wouldn't let something as intangible as a code stop him from seeing his family again, but...his life is not Fridtjof's. He just grimaces. "At...least yours is practiced because of living peoples' choices, than that of one long dead. I don't...hold to my own religion or beliefs too much. The parts I do are for...who they remind me of who practiced, more than for the belief itself." A brief pause. "I don't...really understand that code, but I can respect it...because it's important to you?" He still looks a bit bothered by this Green Word, more on Fridtjof's behalf than his own.
He looks up from where his feet hang over the ledge, fascinated. "So that's...normal? It's okay?" Sounds like there are many reasons. It's definitely complicated for him...if he never goes back to the IPC, he's not Aventurine anymore. He isn't even really now. But he's not quite Kakavasha anymore either? But then where does that- what is-
An arm winds around his shoulders, and he stiffens at the contact, his fidgets going still. It's...gentle, though, careful, and warm. It has gotten a little windy and chilly up here. Fridtjof is...good. He's kind, and warm. This is okay? He's...this isn't bad actually...
It takes a moment of frozen silence, but then Aventurine seems to kind of melt into the contact, letting himself lean into Fridtjof's side. It's...nice. It reminded him of family, of sitting with his sister and listening to stories under the stars. He's still a little embarrassed, but...Fridtjof reached out first. So it's okay. Probably? It's been awhile...
He huffs softly, his feet kicking again but with a slower rhythm. He looks up, returning the smile with a chuckle. "Right, you're a long-lived species. Er...sorry. Term from the job," he adds, shaking his head, his hair brushing Fridtjof's shoulder. "That is a long time to figure stuff out. Going out into the world, it gets so big...I guess it worked out." He wouldn't have met the man, otherwise. The thought is saddening...
His smile goes wistful, a little distant. "Good. It's good to enjoy the freedom you have, I think. Following who you care for, keeping them close. Seeing new sights...sounds nice."
He pauses a moment longer, thinking...not happy thoughts. Even that seemed out of reach for him. And he's..."Hey, Fridtjof? This might sound...ridiculous to you, since we have such different lifespans but...since you live so long do you ever feel...I don't know. Tired? And no matter how long you rest, it won't be enough?" He's not sure he's saying it right. He's not even sure what it is, but...living so long just sounds...really hard, in some ways. And the viera don't even have the risk of Mara corruption, as far as he can tell! Aventurine himself faces none of that, and yet he's just...exhausted. Alot. He's away from work, from Jade, from everything, he should be better now right??
bnnuy will take care of him
The other's confusion is kind of adorable... he nods. "It's a personal matter. Someone else's opinion on your name shouldn't matter. It's what you want to be called, not someone else." He leans into the contact now that he knows Aventurine isn't opposed. He's a good person, even if he seems... lost.
The question has him think a moment, ear twitching. "I do. I've seen many crises over my years, and it always feels that if I don't help take care of them, no one will. Or they'll fall on another to bear it alone - and I can't... I won't do that to them." He reaches over with his free hand, turning as he places it onto the other's head gently and starting to card his fingers through the younger man's hair. "And if I rest, people will get hurt. Or something that needs to be done won't get done, or - or a million other things. I -"
He can admit this to Aventurine. He's already been this open. "I'm afraid, to tell the truth. I'm afraid that I won't be able to do what needs to be done. I'm afraid that if I rest, it's only going to make things worse." He lowers his gaze a little, a bit ashamed. What kind of Wood Warder is afraid? "I tell others to rest, and yet I don't do so myself. I know it's foolish of me - what kind of life can I live if I burn myself too quickly? - but I can't help my feelings. ... I may have more years than you, but I think we'd be considered around the same age. I'm no less foolish than anyone else who's young."
Aw. Congrats, Aventurine will now die for bnnuy
It's probably good Aventurine doesn't notice Fridtjof finds this adorable. He would just get more embarrassed! As it is, he's just finding it nice to lean on him. It's...safer, it feels. "Even if it's an employer with my life in their hands?" He chuckles, slightly bitter, but that calms too when the viera leans back on him, a reassuring weight. "I guess I just...need to figure out what I want that to be while I'm here, then."
Dual colored eyes flick to look up at Fridtjof, taking in the regret and worry. "...No one stood for my people when...during the raids." Fridtjof saw a bit of it. He can...he can say it. A little. "There were people who could, but turned away." A sharp grin spreads across his face. "Until they could profit off me, of course. Then it takes me teleporting to a weird haunted boat to escape their sights, go figure." He sighs, shaking his head. "...Honestly I didn't think people like you existed. People who wanna help. But...it sounds exhausting. I hope you have that friend of yours to back you up...on your own you could get hurt or killed or-"
Careful, gentle fingers start running through his hair, making his racing thoughts slow down, soothing his flaring anxiety down to dying embers. He hums contentedly, leaning into the touch so much his head kinda...flops on Fridtjof's shoulder.
"If y' don't rest, then you get hurt though...not a good trade off, if y'ask me," he murmurs, his eyes half closed. He is vaguely aware of the hypocrisy of that statement. He also may be going kind of boneless against the other; if he were any sort of Miqo'te, he would most likely be purring right now.
He is not beating the touch starved cat allegations here."Mmm...yeah. That's alot, Fridtjof, m'sorry." His arm that's between the both of them raises behind Fridtjof's back, clasping the viera's shoulder and giving what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. The tiredness is really setting in for Aventurine, though, and that arm kind of flops down around the other man's waist, a loosely returned side-hug. "Being scared...sucks. But it's normal, isn't it? I hate it too...but hey, better than...nothing. Feeling nothing is the worst...like you forgot what's important. Important enough to fight for and...and maybe to rest for, too."
bnnuy will be upset if he dies! don't do that!
As Aventurine speaks of his people, he feels his anger build. Why did no one stand up for them? Why did someone have to hurt them? Why do people care about profit so much? It's like the bloody merchants in Ul'dah - nothing matters but coin. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his hand sliding down so he can wrap his arms around Aventurine's torso, hugging him gently. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that. It's not godsdamn fair that someone like you would get hurt like that. You deserve better. You deserve more, your people deserve more." He thinks of the child he saw and the clear loss of innocence in the man before him and gives him a somewhat tighter squeeze.
"I... I know I need to rest. We both do. Hopelessness creeps in around the corners of life, and it's hard fighting it back. It's difficult to be hopeful. ... But it's easier when there are other people around who can help." He nuzzles the top of the other's head, a slight flush on his face. It's not - he doesn't like Aventurine like that, but it's... he feels too close to do any other gesture.