animatedsmoke | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Ky Kiske, Potemkin
What: New York New York
When: AU (Carvaka + Fables/The Wolf Among Us)
Where: New York

After so much struggle and work to force change on the universe, to have it show some acknowledgement to their efforts or make the barest turn toward their survival, it was change that came on them instead. Like an interstellar probe finding a star among millions, without any foreshadowing or warning a single dimension made itself known to discovery, and that was the moment when the inhabitants of Between found a world that had survived the death of the universe. At last there was some place that didn't resist life to exist on it, or resent it. The planet was alive, populated, growing, and distinctively Earth. But it was still not their Earth, and one could feel the difference with every moment taken in it. It was palpable in the air breathed, the sunlight felt, the mood of the sky. That was before even including interacting with the inhabitants, who turned out to be separate down to the physical definition of humanity.

It's not what anyone wanted. It's not what anyone asked or wished or dreamed for. But it is new chance, a fresh start, and in its purity of experience it is unfamiliar to everyone, which is both terrifying and equalizing.

Ultimately the tantalizing possibilities outweigh the undesirables. No one could bring themselves to refuse the hand. After years of waiting, the confidence had been instilled that nothing better would come, and that this escape was truly the chance of a lifetime. With the deal made, now they must deal with it.

________________

Potemkin throws a bus schedule or four on the nearest flat surface in front of Ky, the folded paper making a slap on the speckled plastic table that is audible even among the incessant sound of traffic outside. Potemkin doesn't add any words to his offering, expecting that the noise will get Ky to look up from whatever he's doing, and makes his way to the refrigerator. He had gone through a bureaucratic ordeal today, and these pieces from a Take One bin are the most significant fruits of his labor. Potemkin has a deep well of patience, but he seeks to refill it when it's drunk from.

It would be a miracle if Potemkin could fit in any form of public transportation (that isn't airship), but as shown by his flippancy he didn't pick those up for himself. Ky Kiske looks normal, at least, he will be able to pick up work, and look through both Fable and Mundie employers to do it (and maybe even someday hold a political position in Fabletown). A job anywhere in this city means some sort of commute. As for Potemkin, who stood out even in the world he was born in, he'll figure it out on his own.

Not that he has all the time in the world to do that, rent comes in a month.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes, I just had it made." This is how he is supposed to spend his time in the outside world, it's useless for that purpose if he feels this bothered by it. How could he not though, when a basic part of what he's felt his entire life has been flipped.

Potemkin notices how close Ky is getting. Very close. Ky's presence seems even larger and more significant when Potemkin doesn't physically dwarf him. Potemkin momentarily is filled with panic and his heart fumbles a few beats in his chest, but he takes his arm off his body and extends it fully toward Ky. Holding it in the air shows how different it is now; his arm is still covered with volumes of muscle, but doesn't look like it'll be lifting cars any time soon.

"I haven't felt this weak since I was a child," Potemkin complains. That might sound like an exaggeration, but no, it's right that he hasn't been nearly in the same ballpark of size since when his mutation was less visible.

Trying to imagine Potemkin as a child is too much for Ky's mind right now. (A mini-sized Potemkin is all he can manage to picture, which is a mental image he will politely keep to himself.) He reaches out to place his hand on Potemkin's arm, watching his fingers curl around the muscles there. Usually, his hand would be too small to do anything but merely rest on top of the forearm. Trying to curl his hand around it was out of the question.

Not only can Ky's hand curl gently around the curve of Potemkin's forearm here, the arm also feels solid. Firm and warm. This is no illusion.

"You still seem to have some strength to me," Ky reassures Potemkin. "At least they haven't depleted you completely."

Potemkin's physique is still larger and more muscular than Ky's, at least. Although, perhaps Ky isn't the best person to compare oneself to. He's well aware he tends to be more on the lean side when it comes to body structures.

Potemkin stares at Ky longer and harder than what comes off as entirely natural and swallows. He tries to be discreet about it even when Ky is right next to him.

Why does it have to come up now, always over the most inconsequential of things. From his perspective everything feels real to him too, all of Ky's hand on his arm and the warmth of his touch. Which are things that are much more distracting than what they should be.

Potemkin turns his head and tries to keep his thoughts to the actual words being said. Which, honestly, are not as influential as Ky simply being there. "You're right, it's not completely different from myself. This is probably how I could have been," Potemkin indirectly refers to the hypothetical scenario of being born differently. He doesn't stay on the idea for long; that is its own rather terrifying line of thought. "But I still feel what's missing."

"As do I," Ky says, lightly squeezing Potemkin's arm both to comfort and emphasize his response before dropping his hand. He's oblivious to the other man's feelings, too focused on the effects of the glamour, to notice the lingering gaze. The newness of the glamour is too distracting. He still can't believe how this spell could have made such a large man into a (comparatively) smaller one.

"I don't blame you for feeling that way. This is quite a change. It may take some time to get used to it." He takes a small step back to address Potemkin better. "I would offer to spar with you to help you get used to the changes, but I think we may be fined for causing a disturbance. If there is anything else I can do to assist you, however..."

Potemkin silently thanks his luck that Ky apparently paid no attention to his little moment. Though his comforting words (and that squeeze) leave him with lingering thoughts. What he really wants is to walk up to Ky and embrace him, in thanks for all his understanding and repeated kindness.

It takes a moment for Potemkin to realize that he would not be imagining this quite the same way if he was still his true height.

Potemkin breaks out of his daydreaming, and he feels like he has to double-check himself now. How odd. He turns and rests his face against his fist. "Hmm, I can't believe they don't have the proper facilities," Potemkin laments that he can't take Ky's offer, as he would do so in a heartbeat; no, a complimentary gym does not count.

"I can't thank you enough for everything. But I have nothing specific in mind. Time will be the best practice." A beat. "Except for maybe, if you can buy some shirts the next time you pass through downtown."

"You don't need to thank me for anything. I wish I could do more."

It's all too easy to wave off the thanks. Ky is only doing what's natural to him, which is to do the right thing and dedicate himself to helping a good friend. Potemkin isn't simply a fellow survivor to him. Not only are they from the same reality — world, actually — but they have also helped each other during their time in the Fortress Between. Taking care of their apartment for the month and comforting Potemkin during such a drastic change is the least he can do.

He brings a hand to his chin, contemplating Potemkin's appearance at the mention of clothing.

"You certainly will need new clothes, won't you?" He pauses to think. "Will you allow me to guess your size?"

Oh. Potemkin takes his hand off his face and awkwardly uncrosses his arms, to make any examination easier.

"I've never thought of it much," Potemkin says, referring both to the act of buying clothes for others and thinking of his clothing size in terms of numbers. In all other cases those would not intersect. "Your input will be very useful. I think I would be a larger size than you?"

What a helpful observation.

Edited (I blame phone posting) 2016-11-24 20:38 (UTC)

The most helpful.

"I would be surprised if you weren't," Ky responds with a small smile. "How much larger is the question. I don't have anything to measure with, but perhaps... wait here."

With little pause, Ky turns to quickly walk out of the room and back to his own. After a quick skim to grab one of his few articles of clothing within reach — a button-down shirt — he returns with it in hand, looking quite inspired and eager to help.

"Allow me to compare your size to this shirt," is the blond's only warning before he's already approaching Potemkin to size the shirt against the man's body. It's a very hands-on process, to say the least, as he runs his hands along Potemkin's shoulders to memorize how much larger the shirt will need to be.

"I can try to estimate your size like this," he explains. "Hopefully, I won't accidentally purchase anything too small."

Potemkin waits with only a confused squint aimed in the direction Ky left, but that's all thrown out when Ky compares the shirt to his chest. That could have come with a bit more warning! Not that he's doing anything that deserves a warning, really, he's not, but it's Ky (who has exceptional ability to surprise him), and Potemkin was just feeling proud of himself for staying composed when he was only slowly moving along his arm. This is shocking in comparison, and Potemkin fumbles just a bit. A twitch of his lip, an underbreath gasp, small things that might be able to pass off as just surprise.

"Mmmn. It looks like I am still significantly larger."

Potemkin becomes extremely quiet during Ky's measuring; if he moves less, he's less likely to do something embarrassing. But after a while, he speaks up for something he must say.

"Thank you."

Ky looks up from his measuring-by-sight, looking at Potemkin with an open and kind expression. His desire to help and care for Potemkin is written plainly on his face, although is determination is causing him to unintentionally cause the still-larger man some discomfort. Whoops. If he was more careful and aware, he would apologize.

He's about to wave off Potemkin's thanks, but he's well aware he's done that already. No need to repeat himself lest he start to come across as pushy. (Even though he can be, at times.)

"You're welcome," he says instead. Ky smooths out the fabric along the crook of Potemkin's neck, taking note of the thickness of the other man's throat. "It's difficult to believe how different our environment has become, compared to where we used to be. But, even if we're still trying to adjust here, at least the challenge of finding the right-sized clothing is preferable to facing mind-altering illusions."

Looking at Ky's face, it's hard for Potemkin to not feel spoiled, especially as Ky literally fusses and primps over the shirt. Potemkin always felt he should be treated with only what was deserved. Receiving so much individual attention with the sole purpose of improving his comfort in a tiny way just feels off. Not that he's going to turn any of this down, not at all.

"Or worrying about our very existence running out," Potemkin agrees.

No matter what problems they ran into while trying to live in this city, it all seems like a worthy trade for a world where life and death are more or less normal. No memory eating fog, no crippling fear, and no uncertainty on whether anything will still be around when he woke up.

Ky pauses, glancing away, before nodding. Yes, there's no longer a need to worry about fading out of existence. The relief of that burdensome fear is liberating. Ky was nervous during the first month of their stay. He couldn't help anticipating the moment when food would begin to crumble in his hands again. He braced himself for the feeling of slipping away. Paranoid, perhaps. But that land could've left its mark in more ways than one.

What a relief to realize that wasn't the case. The worst he's had to deal with were their missing friends. (And maybe one or two inappropriate dreams. But that will disappear with time, he'll make sure of it.)

With a slight shake of his head, he pulls himself out of his thoughts. Leaning to the side to compare the length of Potemkin's arm to the sleeve, he continues his task.

"We've left a lot behind us, including our friends and allies." His tone is somber. "But I hope this change will lead to progress for us... and I hope we will be able to see our companions again."

Potemkin turned around his wrist under Ky's inspection, assistance a faint thought on the back of his mind but mostly he twists and looks at his hand out of his own contemplative thoughts. It's so strange to think of himself having hands like anyone else. It feels more disorienting to actually fit in, than to constantly adjust for being out of scale with the rest of the world, in everything from picking something up to how threatening he appeared.

"Like you I have no doubts. Just being alive is to keep up hope," Potemkin says his belief. There is more than one meaning to that, because while on one hand you do need to be alive to hope, they also exist as proof that people could make it despite the extensive journey. Potemkin is ready to wait for as long as it takes to witness this truth.

"Indeed, it is."

Finally finished with his sizing, Ky straightens up and pulls the shirt away from Potemkin's body. He folds it in half over his arm and takes a step back, regarding the man before him for a moment. Despite this drastic change, it is only a physical one. Potemkin is still the man Ky is familiar with. This conversation has assured that much, at least.

"Thank you for your patience," he finally says. "This will help me find something suitable for you. I'll go to the store tomorrow, after work. Will you be here?"

"Yes. I won't waste your time."

Potemkin speaks like he will absolutely hold himself to that. Indeed, he does consider Ky's time and energy a precious resource. The thought of him tired and exhausted afterwards his workday is a major part of why he wanted to get right into contributing with a job, discomfort with being able to walk under doorways aside. It may seem like a massive shift now, but it's negligible compared to the goal of no longer feeling the ineffectual yearning to help every time he saw him.

The next day Potemkin awaits for Ky in the living room, having spent the day housekeeping. He is actually holds some talent at it. For what he has to work with, the place looks neat and prim, being brought to his exacting standards. And a meal sits at ready, staying warm on the stovetop. Some effort and care can make even canned beans more appetizing.

Potemkin might be too good at it. Now it's Ky's turn to be spoiled, coming home to warm food and a tidy apartment. He's rather fortunate in the sense that he's had a butler during his time with the police force and attendants while he was king. And, now, here's his housemate doing the same for him. It's a gesture he really appreciates, especially after coming home from a somewhat aggravating day at work.

Ky brightens at the sight of Potemkin (and with only the smallest hint of doing another mental double-take), greeting him with a smile. He lifts to show off a bag of clothes.

"Potemkin. I've returned with some gifts for you."

Inside the bag, Potemkin will find no less than three shirts. A blue long-sleeve, a green short-sleeve, and a white, button-down shirt. It cut into Ky's wallet quite a bit to get all three, but he didn't think twice about purchasing them all at once. Better to make sure Potemkin has a small variety now than to realize he needs something too late.

In turn, Potemkin looks like the day just started for him when he sees Ky. Potemkin believes chores can be rewarding in a way, but it can't be denied that having someone around to talk to is more interesting.

His attention is immediately dragged to the bag however. He takes it from Ky's hand (more forcefully than normal for him, like his reflexes are trying to advantage of not currently having a powerful body that inherently worked within restraint, and not entirely getting it right), and looks straight downwards while rooting through it.

"Thank you," he says, his voice affected by far he went for him just for a favor. He remains oblivious to how he wasn't idle either, but if pointed out, Potemkin would only say it's not like he doesn't need to eat too.

He picks one item out, to look at it curiously. It's the white shirt. "Like yours."

Edited (missing word) 2016-12-23 06:54 (UTC)

Ky gives him a sheepish smile. "I apologize if it isn't to your taste. I'm far too used to having a very uniform wardrobe."

He tilts his head a bit. "I don't think it would look bad on you, however. You would make a fine impression."

Because of course he took that into consideration. Ky wouldn't grab just anything.

Ah, of course. That uniform must be inescapable from Ky's subconscious, even if he doesn't don it much in this city. But that last comment, despite only being a compliment, causes Potemkin to grip the shirt closer and tighter to him.

Would a specific clothing choice make him more like Ky? Give him an idea of what Ky likes for himself?

Potemkin is interested in following this line of logic because he trusts Ky's judgement, of course. He always has, and this is not out of the ordinary. As for why, it's not because Potemkin is waiting to impress strangers. In fact, the only judgement on Potemkin's mind is Ky. Potemkin can't shake off the idea that, with close adherence to his taste, Ky might like him more.

Especially in appearance. Potemkin realizes he's been slow to reply, and half-mumbles. "I'll try it on."

Ky nods. "At your leisure."

There's no hurry, and Ky doesn't take the hesitation to respond as an affront to his choice of clothing. He assumes this is yet another moment of adjustment for Potemkin. There's probably plenty of those moments now, even when doing the most mundane of tasks. All things considered, Ky has no room to complain about anything.

Saved again, with no thanks to his smooth moving. Potemkin will take what he can get.

"Dinner should be ready by now," Potemkin says behind him as he's shuffling to his room, hunched over and legs crossing over themselves. It could easily be blamed on self-consciousness over his body, but mostly Potemkin is just desperate to move to his room before he can embarrass himself further.

Potemkin walks much more like his usual proud posture when he returns to the dinner table after a change in clothes. It's a way of carrying himsekf so well practiced by him, he pulls off almost the same amount of gravitas with several less feet in height. But in the details are small gestures of what's in his thoughts, how he clenches his hands together behind his back, the quick turns trying to catch Ky's expression.

At Potemkin's prompting, Ky prepares two bowls of their warm meal and sets them at the table while waiting for his housemate to return. He's finished rearranging the utensils and napkins — just because their meal isn't the most gourmet doesn't mean they deserve to eat sloppily — and is about to take a seat when Potemkin reappears.

Ky's eyes brighten as a smile crosses his lips. "You look excellent," he says, pleased. Potemkin's stature, even when altered, is still firmly military and sturdy in appearance. The clothes only emphasize the effect by keeping Potemkin looking clean and sharp. Ky is, admittedly, quite fond of the look.

"How does it feel? Does it fit well?"

"It's a fine fit. Your measurements were well taken," he answers. The replies are short but not curt, since he doesn't seem to be ending his sentences out of discomfort or coldness. In fact, it's one of the signs of Potemkin's signature quietly expressed happiness, along with the faint upward tug on his mouth. He's happy at having found something that suits him and at being complimented, especially by someone who is very nice looking when he smiles...

Potemkin is very quick to sit down at his seat. There he has an excuse to look at the food. Which he does so while picking up the fork Ky laid out. He briefly stares at his own hand holding it between his fingers, like both the hand and the fork are now new oddities to him.

He takes a seat, watching Potemkin move and noting whether the shirt looks too small or big in places, when he realizes Potemkin is staring at his own hand. The giant warrior's hands were enormous before, capable of gripping his opponents like a mere stick before slamming them to the ground. Now, those hands are the perfect size for a regular fork. Ky can only imagine the difference is unnerving.

He holds his own fork in his hand, but doesn't eat yet. "How are you feeling today? Is it... easier?"

Potemkin couldn't hide everything. It is a presumptuous thought to think that could even be possible when Potemkin knows Ky to be sharp-eyed and thoughtful. And nosy.

He sighed and pushed his hand a little into the table, like he's stepping back for now. "Yes. I think I'm getting used to this," he answers tentatively. It's an ongoing process. There's still a disconcerting feeling that crops up often enough to make him feel like he's moving under a fever or not full-awakened dream, but already it's just an irritation rather than a paralyzing sensation. It's never going to get as silly as avoiding eating in public for this.

"Do not worry. I should ask you how your day went," Potemkin says as he picks up his fork again. Due to not being able to freely move around yet, he's curious on what immersing oneself in the full brunt of the city is like on Ky.

Edited (tenses) 2016-12-29 03:35 (UTC)