crowspace | call me out v. 13.0

[There are, in rare cases, lands they travel to where plant life flourishes.

The kingdom still suffers. The regret and anger of the dead still clings to the land. But flowers have found a way to thrive, climbing the walls of empty houses and creeping out of cracks in the floors.

While the Grimmkin hunt down the last few flames, Grimm takes a moment to indulge himself.]

My dear Brumm, I have something for you.

[Held behind his back, of course. It's a surprise.]

[ This kingdom is much like any other, in its own way. Unique in its structures and those who must have once lived there; now abandoned, desolate. Chasms crawl across the land, forming gaping wounds; empty reminders of the throes of its agony.

Brumm plays, and fills that emptiness with sound. The ghosts flock to music, and he finds himself playing songs he does not know, and cannot remember once they're gone. Such performances, where he is a conduit for another's regrets, leaves him feeling tired and outside of himself, but he understands that in a small way, this is necessary.

But he's tired. He doesn't feel like playing right now, so he's put down his accordion for the evening.

He looks up, weariness falling from him easily at the sight of Grimm. Being around his master always makes him feel better, somehow. ]

Mrm? [ Grimm likes to spring little surprises on him, now and then. He doesn't really know why. ] What is it, master?

[Brumm's role is vital. As is Grimm's. As are all of theirs. It is tiring work, but it must be done.

But even though they are given their roles to play and will fulfill them faithfully, they are still people, and they can take time for themselves.]

Would you close your eyes?

[ ... ]

Mrm...of course. [ He'll do many things for Grimm, after all.

Behind the mask, he shuts his eyes, not entirely certain of what to expect. ]

[Carefully, Grimm sets the crown of flowers he'd made on Brumm's head, over his horns. He takes a moment to retrieve a hand mirror.]

You may open your eyes again.

[Grimm holds out the mirror to Brumm so that he can see himself, adorned with lovely red and pink flowers woven together in a crown.]

How is it? I made it myself.

[ He doesn't open his eyes until Grimm tells him to, even though he feels Grimm close and his hands near to his horns. That alone would make him blush (because he's hopeless, as always), and then he actually sees what Grimm has made him.

He's glad for the mask. Even though the heat on his face makes it feel like there's no barrier at all, and he's almost certain Grimm can hear his heart pound away in his chest and his breath catch.

It takes him a moment to speak. ]

It's--beautiful.

[ He raises his hands to touch it in a way that suggests he can't quite comprehend it's real. ]

Mrm, master, I shouldn't...you should wear it. [ It would look better on him. Everything looks better on him. ]

[To see Brumm so overwhelmed warms Grimm's heart. There is little Grimm would not do to make him blush under that mask.

Grimm really is hopeless, isn't he.]

My friend, I made it specifically for you.

[So only Brumm can wear it.]

[ He touches it again. Made for him. He doesn't know what to do with that. Does anyone know what to do with something like that?

There are so many thoughts buzzing in his head. He can't seem to form them into any kind of coherency. ]

I can't... { He almost says that he can't accept it, but...no. That feels like the wrong thing to say. (What would be the right thing to say? He doesn't know.) ]

I'm--Mrm. I'll have to make you one in return. Master.

I would be honored to accept it.

[It doesn't matter if Brumm made him the worst flower crown that has ever been woven. Grimm would wear it proudly.

Made for him by a precious person. Of course he must accept.]

[ Brumm doesn't consider himself bad with his hands, but he's a musician, not a craftsman. They're worlds apart.

Still, it's for Grimm, so he tries his hardest. Even if he never makes another flower crown in his life, he'll still do all he can to make this one perfect.

It takes him some time to produce the crown he'd promised Grimm.

The Grimmkin giggle and tease him, but they oblige him gladly when he asks them to help him reach flowers he wouldn't be able to otherwise. One of them holds the torch for him when he almost falls asleep at the end of a long day and several performances, working painstakingly to weave flowers together with suddenly-clumsy fingers, putting on the final touches to a crown that shimmers with every colour of flower he could find. An ornate and striking rainbow.

He's tired. Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt. He wouldn't want to accidentally damage it, somehow...

That same Grimmkin giggles and leaves the torch lit, careful not to wake him, and goes to find Grimm. It's not very difficult; all the grimmkin have a sense for where the master of the troupe is.

They wonder what he's doing now, though. If he's busy, this might be more difficult. Brumm might wake up before Grimm gets there. But then again, that would probably be cute, too.

Decisions, decisions. ]

[Not all of Grimm's time is downtime, of course. Even when he isn't fulfilling his role as Grimm, he has duties as master of the troupe. Practicing performances, checking their supplies, seeing to it that everything runs smoothly.

He's counting their medical supplies when the Grimmkin finds him - the other members of the troupe aren't nearly so resilient as he.]

Good evening.

[Does this Grimmkin have need of him?]

[ Oh, good! He's busy, but not busy. This is a good thing.

They float about in apparent indecision, before giggling and beckoning to him, indicating he should follow. Could be a prank, could be something else. It's a mystery~*~

But they clearly want him for something, even if it's not strictly a need. ]

[Grimm has definitely been on the receiving end of pranks before, but they're ultimately harmless and he can laugh at them afterward. So there's no reason for him to hesitate.

He follows after them, wherever they might lead.]

[ They lead him to one of the tents, where Brumm has been hard at work until very recently. The musician is still asleep, the torch casting strange shadows across him as it flickers. He doesn't even stir; he's normally a light sleeper, so he must be tired.

The many-coloured flower crown he'd worked so hard to make almost shimmers in the torchlight, held delicately in his hands.

He said that he would, after all. ]

[So this is what they wanted him to see: his dear musician asleep after having worked so hard on making the most wonderful flower crown for him.

For a moment, Grimm just stands and watches Brumm peacefully asleep. A beautiful sight that he will preserve in his memory, that will remain long after the both of them are gone.

He hates to disturb Brumm, but after that moment, he gently brushes his hand over Brumm's forehead.]

This isn't the best place to sleep, my dear friend.

[ Brumm is so exhausted that when he's touched, he barely stirs. Still, Grimm is saying something to him, so he feels that he should respond, if nothing else.

...Even the thought of opening his eyes is tiring, though. He makes a soft noise, unconsciously leaning into that touch a little. It's...nice.

(He'll be embarrassed later.) ]

Mrm..? [ It's something between a purr and a chirp. ]

[Too cute. If Grimm's death wasn't already fated he would die right here.]

At least find your way to a bedroll before you doze off. Or shall I carry you?

[He'll thank Brumm for the flower crown when he's properly awake.]

[ He makes another soft, tired noise.

You might actually have to carry him. He'll probably remember this later and write it off as a dream before realising it actually happened and combusting in embarrassment. ]

[So it's come to this.

Grimm carefully scoops Brumm up in a bridal carry and starts carrying him toward Brumm's bedroll. Rest somewhere more comfortable, please.]

[ If he wasn't faintly aware he was carrying something that needed to be held properly, he'd curl into being held. As it is, he just sighs a little, shifting towards Grimm and attempting to lean on him just a little more.

It's nice. This is nice, being close. It would be nice, he thinks in his haze of being mostly-asleep, if this lasted for a long time. ]

[Unfortunately for Brumm, his bedroll is not too far away. Grimm sets him down, then gently tries to remove the flower crown from Brumm's grip. It wouldn't do for him to roll over and crush it in his sleep, or anything like that.

If Brumm lets him take the crown, he'll lean down to brush his lips against Brumm's mask, over his forehead. Just for a moment.]

[ Getting the flower crown out of his grip is easy. That kiss going unnoticed is...

Well.

(He could have just dreamed it, or mistaken it for something else. Affection is easily given, and he's grown more used to it in his time with the Troupe. It probably doesn't mean anything; it's only because he's tired that Grimm would do this; it's...

He has so many reasons ready, and none of them seem to work, or fit.)

He makes a quiet, half-awake noise at the kiss, reaching out to grasp Grimm's arm, or something else he can reach. It's a plaintive, gentle gesture, but it's unambiguous in its meaning.

(Don't go.)

He's never been good at words. Apart from that small noise, he remains silent. ]

[Well. How can Grimm leave after hearing that? He can't.

Grimm sits down at Brumm's bedside to stay with him until he wakes. While he does, he puts that flower crown on his own head.

It's a perfect fit. Of course it is - Brumm has never lacked for attention to detail. Particularly not when that detail is Grimm.]

[ It takes a while for him to wake, and it comes slowly. He's pretty sure he hadn't gone to bed, so it takes him a moment to process everything.

But since he's still half-awake, he blinks sleepily at Grimm, and the only thing he can think of to say is ]

You look wonderful, Master.

[Grimm is not much for sleep, not the way most people experience it, which means that he's awake enough to easily reply.]

All thanks to your hard work, my friend.

call me out v. 13.0

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