[ They've been back for a little while when a certain someone emerges from whatever counts as sleep for a clothing item that doesn't need any to find the station fully crewed. Out of Stephen's room the next instant, zipping past teammates in the common area (no luck), sailing through the central control room (no dice) and veering off to the right to try the other common areas via the Sunlight Room—
And stops, yanking itself back as it recognises the man looking out over water running under the bridge.
Company arrives almost silently. The cloak hovers carefully closer until it's near enough to set a careful fold of fabric on Yujin's shoulder to announce its presence. ]
[There's plenty about these last few weeks left for Yujin to mull over. Now that they're all back on the proper Ximilia again, he has nothing but free time-- so much wretchedly free time-- to do so.
Which brings him to an imaginary bridge over an imaginary river, dreamed up into a very large terrarium, within a metal ship outside of time. Without the Sunlight Room, he'd have lost his mind ages ago. Since he first arrived all many months ago now, the nature, illusory though it may well be, has been grounding in its familiarity among so much that is unfamiliar. It's true even moreso now, with Yujin's mind in several places at once. He has apologies to make; thanks to give; difficult conversations he needs to begin, sooner rather than later.
And then, after the more pressing issues... there is the small matter of Stephen Strange.
Yujin, staring down into the creek, makes a face.
It's a good thing he does, too. Watching his own sorry reflection etching deeper wrinkles onto his forehead is the only reason he catches the blurry red glimpse of the cloak behind him. But before he can turn around, the cloak drapes a little of itself over him, feeling very much like someone has tried to put a blanket halfway on his shoulder. It's funny enough to draw half a smile out of Yujin. With a loose, gentle grip (how do you greet a sentient piece of cloth?) he takes a bit of the cloak's hem between his fingers.]
Hello, there. It's been quite some time since we saw each other last, hasn't it?
[ Oh. The cloak remains still for a moment, a particularly pensive kind of floating. Held hem hovering in hand.
Then it shifts, lining up and lowering until it's suspended properly over Yujin's shoulders, leaving just enough time for the man to duck and weave if he'd rather not be enveloped in a big heavy hug of a fabric sheet (but not necessarily enough time to realise that's an option) before it settles in to be properly worn.
It allows its full weight to be felt around the shoulders, a steady downward hanging pressure that differs from how it might have felt in flight: more weighted blanket than weightless levitation. But it keeps the piece of fabric Yujin had held in greeting within his reach in spite of the mild contortion required, pats the outside of his opposite thigh with the same side's edge in quiet camaraderie.
[Sure enough, he doesn't have enough time to react before the cloak settles over his shoulders, heavy enough to be substantial without its weight becoming uncomfortable enough to tug him down.
Is. Is the cloak hugging him???
The answer comes when it... pats him. On the leg. He'd already felt a little silly, shaking its "hand", but this is definitely another level of weirdness. Not unwelcome, of course-- he's liked the cloak since it rescued him and Ciri-- just strange.
Well, he may as well lean into it. He releases his grip on the cloak and pulls it closer around his shoulders, like a blanket.]
Very perceptive for a flying jacket, aren't you. [he says, sounding sheepish.] Have you been put up to this?
[ There are two wolves inside any self-respecting cloak. In this instance, one wolf hears flying jacket and prepares to lift Yujin out over the edge of the bridge and release him the short drop into fake water. The other has already been gathered a little tighter around their current occupant and conceded to keep being kind.
In the end, the kind wolf wins by merit of the confounding suggestion that Stephen Strange might have recently acquired the ability to be so boldly considerate of another adult humans' feelings that he'd send a hugagram to track down Yujin on the fly.
Instead of offer anything that might be a concrete answer, the cloak goes for a shrug - corners lifting up in to the air in front of Yujin in an entirely non-committal gesture that conveniently puts it in a perfect position to fold in on itself, wrapping one corner over the other and tucking in, effectively making a loose burrito of its wearer's legs.
Very perceptive is admission of need, and admission of need requires immediate escalation.
Plus, Yujin's already proving more tolerant of the cloak's attempts at comfort than a certain somebody else had been this early in their acquaintance. So it doesn't mind hold off a little longer on finding him - it's a good cause. ]
[Tolerant to a point. Before Yujin can begin to consider the meaning of that shrug, the cloak tucks itself around him. He's not wrapped too tightly-- it's even a little cozy, really-- but that doesn't make being restricted by a moving thing feel any less uncomfortable.]
Yes, well...
[How is he supposed to shrug the cloak off when it can move on its own? After it's been so nice to him, it doesn't feel right to just pull the thing off. If he moves his legs and the cloak doesn't shift along with him, he might stumble right over and into the water.
He opts for a safe, if awkward, reach down to untuck the cloak's corners from around him. His arms aren't completely accessible, which results in Yujin hunching over even more into a cloak-bundled shape in the process.]
It's, er, very kind of you to say hello. [He glances around: surely its owner has got to be nearby?] Stephen must be wondering where you've gone, though.
The cloak can tell when it's making someone uncomfortable, and while it's clearly willing to toe the line it does do Yujin a solid and let up around his legs when he goes fishing for its corners. By the time he stands back up in search of S t e p h e n it's hanging like a regular shmegular bit of outerwear again—
For the approximately 5 seconds it takes said Stephen Strange to make his timely appearance, entering Sunlight Room Stage Left in search of a certain flying friend.
A friend who forgets Yujin in an instant. Forgets him so fast that when it lifts up in anticipation of zooming full pelt across the not inconsiderable distance between the bridge and Stephen it doesn't remember to let go of the man it's already carrying.
And zoom it does. With land and water no obstacle the cloak absolutely pegs it in a straight line from A (bridge) to B (clueless wizard), only realising with Stephen almost in acquisition's reach that it can't actually acquire him with a passenger already on board. It's at this point that the cloak dips down, skimming low over the water, yanking on the breaks with a billow of fabric so it can deposit its cargo safely down onto dry (wet?) land (water?) and dart off again to barrel into Stephen at far too many knots.
By the time the cloak's fastening itself aggressively over his shoulders and spinning itself tight around him, pulling him off his balance and into the air, Stephen's just about had enough time to take in the scene. He's batting at the cloak's lining almost immediately and with a quick extension of magic and will (and a frantic little whisper of what are you doing?) the two of them are making their way back over to Yujin wherever he might have landed. Stephen touches down and crouches immediately to offer help up, expression a frowning mix of concern and Embarrassment. ]
—Sorry. You okay?
[ Why are you like this you wretched piece of clothing he missed you so much. ]
[Maybe all that is a cohesive series of events to the cloak. As for Yujin? His awareness moves at a bewildering, impossible to follow clip. One instant, he spots Stephen Strange in the corner of his eye; the next, he feels his feet leaving the ground in an immense and dizzying rush of motion. Before he can even grasp why he's in the air or where he's going so fast-- he's still mid-yelp, even-- his whole body's unceremoniously dunked into the river, bogged down by waterlogged robes.
Good thing he can swim, huh!!!
Yujin bobs right back up, looking in top form: sputtering water, wet hair plastered to his forehead, haori askew and hanging off an arm, his kimono half-open. He's still coughing up water when Stephen fishes him out by the arm. Whether Yujin ducking his head is a nod, or an attempt to hide the embarrassment on his face, is unclear.
Also, he's still only 70% sure of how he got launched into the river at top speed. Just... you know... give him a second, Stephen.]
[ When anticipating his reunion with the cloak, this particular detail hadn't made it onto his vision board. The aggressive rushing, yes. The grabbing and spinning, yes. The pulling a dishevelled Yujin Mikotoba from the river he was just unceremoniously dumped in?
Not so much.
Now that it's here and happening, Yujin's head ducked and the rest of his expression shielded by hair, Stephen finds himself in the unexpected position of feeling - bashful?
It's the fact that his very own piece of unruly outerwear just dunked Yujin into an open body of water in a fit of sheer carelessness and there's nothing he can do to un-dunk him. It's obviously that. Embarrassing because he owns said garment, mortifying because Yujin's soaked and expelling water, the math is mathing.
But it's also not not in part owed to Yujin's present state of (un)dress.
Unwrapped is the first word that comes to mind, rapidly dismissed, but... he's lived with Yujin before, they've both seen one another outside of their respective formal attires, and there's a difference between seeing a man in a t-shirt and sweatpants and—
There are certain people for whom even a flash of ankle in an unexpected context could seem scandalous. It takes this exact situation for Stephen to realise that, as far as he's concerned, Yujin is one of those people. And this is not a flash of ankle.
He stays close, up to his thighs in the water, arm still out for support until Stephen can be sure Yujin's not about to cough up a lung or trip on the haori that's half hanging off of him and staring, by inevitable consequence of Yujin's hung head and his own lack of desire to make eye contact before he's prepared for it, at the bared patch of skin at the centre of his chest. It's a predicament. Can't look away, not before he's sure he's alright, that would be neglectful. And can't look anywhere else, that would be disrespectful. So where collarbone crests and smooths down into sternum it is. Fine.
Like this, in silence, Stephen simply. Stands.
The great and powerful Dr. Stephen Strange, felled by bad cloak handling and the sudden development of a crushing personal sense of the largely outmoded social norm officially known as propriety.
It's no good. He can't just stand here. When he speaks it's sheepish, run together and quiet with a caution that doesn't actually want to burst the safe bubble of non-speech they've lapsed into. ]
I am so sorry.
[ The cloak, perpetrator of this entire mess, floats safely above the waterline, watching on. ]
[If any one good thing could be said of this disaster, it's that Yujin has completely forgotten what he was worrying about. All of that is gone, at least momentarily, now replaced by the exciting new concern before him: Stephen Strange getting an eyeful of the sorry, dripping wet state that he is currently in. Not the way he would've liked to be distracted, but it's certainly effective.
And he isn't inhaling deep lungfuls of water now, either. Always a plus.
Yujin straightens, swiping a hand back over his forehead. The effect is a near-approximation of his usual slicked-back hairstyle, which.... will have to serve, for now.]
It's-- [he manages at last, voice somewhat rough from coughing,] --it's all right! It was an accident.
[He hopes so, anyway. He casts an incredulous look up at the cloak as it hovers before them: after they had such a good thing going, too?
Having finally recovered his senses and realized that yes, he was just tossed into the river by a magical flying cloak, Yujin doesn't let go of Stephen's arm just yet. His head's still spinning a little, and as enticing as just sinking to the bottom and staying there sounds, he should probably be working on not losing his balance and slipping under again.]
The cloak was on my shoulders before it rushed over to you. I didn't realize it was so excitable.
[Speaking of, his clothes are a mess. As he speaks, Yujin shucks off his soaked haori and drapes it over an elbow; he tugs his outer kimono closed over his chest. Once they're back on dry land, he'll likely remove it, too, simply leaving on his juban under-kimono while the rest of his clothes dry. Or perhaps, he could just have a change of clothes brought over, now that Stephen is--
Yujin, finally looking Stephen in the eyes-- and finding he isn't quite meeting them-- blinks.
Yujin Mikotoba is a doctor. Moreover, he is Japanese. What Stephen assumes about his propriety is only partially correct. Being disheveled in general is a far greater worry to him than accidentally showing a bit of skin: after all, he's been naked at the public baths before, and it isn't as if he hadn't seen Stephen walking about without a shirt last mission. A bit of nudity is hardly out of the ordinary for two grown men who are friendly with each other.
Unless one man is caught staring, which. That is. Well. Potentially not.... friendly...?
Instead of devoting any brainpower to addressing that, Yujin lets go of Stephen abruptly and begins stumbling toward the shore, hakama sloshing about in the wet. If his ears are slightly pink, no they aren't.]
[ Oh. He's moving. Moving as fast as a man bogged down by multiple layers of sodden clothing can possibly expect to move. Stephen watches him go for a second or two, baffled by the hasty shift— then catches up with himself and shoots a rapid, borderline violent look between Yujin's retreating back and the cloak until it seems to get the picture and finally flap into action.
Here you go, Yujin, as a good will gesture for your last poorly rated journey, a complimentary trip the short way from In The River to Not In The River Anymore by way of one Cloak of Levitation.
Touchdown is a lot more gentle this time, and comes accompanied with the calming background noise of yet more sloshing as Stephen wades his way out of the water too, black joggers less of an obstacle for motion that Yujin's hakama had been. The cloak almost doubles back for him after setting Yujin very carefully down on the shore, but must think better of it after the look it receives from Stephen and instead resumes its nearby hovering. Not around Yujin's shoulders anymore though, mind - just because one of them got wet completely accidentally through no fault of anyone's doesn't mean they all need to get soaked, does it? ]
At least let me help you dry off.
[ There's apology all over his expression but with Yujin safely covered and seemingly no harm done Stephen is at least no longer avoiding looking him in the eye, even if he's not quite taking fine for an answer.
At least let me help you dry off is, of course, a completely normal thing to say in this situation and requires no notes. ]
[It's So Normal. Also normal: being hoisted up and deposited on dry land by a semi-sentient blanket. Yujin is more prepared for it this time, simply resigning himself to his fate-- it's no less ignoble than what he was already doing-- and thanking the powers that be that he's at least landed on his feet.
Now, the first order of business: not being in sopping wet clothes. Yujin focuses on that, and pointedly only on that, as he begins to shed those many layers. He begins by wriggling, somehow, out of the soaked hakama, then abandons them on the grass to dry.
Soon enough, however, the splashing behind him has ceased, signaling that Stephen's made it back onto the riverbank himself.
There's a sardonic expression on his face as he meets Stephen's eyes.] I don't suppose you could conjure up a towel... [It's a joke, largely, but if Stephen is capable, he's not about to decline. Especially now that he's having to remove-- indeed, unwrap-- his outer kimono, leaving only the inner red juban kimono thank GOD he didn't wear white today SMALL MERCIES.
But there's something about Stephen's apologetic expression, and the guilty hovering of the cloak nearby, that puts the ridiculousness of the whole event right over the top. He does, after all, still have a sense of humor. Yujin's mouth twists into a lightly self-deprecating smile.]
[ Yujin, already partially undressed and shedding more layers even as they speak, quips about conjuring up a towel - badum tsh, it earns a twitch of a smirk - but actually he can do one better than that. The smile that's levelled at him breaks through his situational discomfort enough to crack the seal of Appropriate Reactions Only that has cowed him for the last handful of minutes, and the little smirk tucked into one corner of his mouth at the joke deepens, rich with rogue satisfaction.
There's just something about locally sourced, hand made, silver platter served opportunities to show off.
It's a quick spell. Hands lift and shift through three quick movements, like he's working on an invisible Rubik's cube, and then he bats at the air with the back of one hand as if shooing something away— and a warm front moves like a wall from where Stephen stands to where Yujin does, a sheet of dry heat that swallows the water up out of the laid-out hakama as it passes and will do the same to anything else that moves through it. It'll take a couple of passes or focused exposure to fully dry through all the folds in all the very many layers Yujin's (no longer) wearing, but he can now be fairly described as damp rather than drowned.
As a flourish, once that first wave has passed and stripped the excess wet from dripping clothes, there is now a towel in Stephen's hand. ]
Better than at least one person on the station's, so that's something.
[ Yours, Yujin, better than yours. Crossing the distance himself now, he offers the towel out for Yujin to take. And he'll get back to the lighter tone in a minute, but he does just have to do some due diligence - ]
No risk that you hit your head?
Edited (wow I missed a whole chunk of sentence but that's fine (I'm sorry x 2)) 2023-06-25 19:45 (UTC)
[Magic isn't entirely foreign to Yujin. He'd even used it himself on a mission, though he's lost the instinct entirely, after so many months out of practice with a borrowed power. But he is rarely the subject of a spell, with the exception of Sabriel's healing magic and Ciri and Stephen's portals, has seen little else in action.
His friend's movements are, he can tell at a glance, fluid and instinctive. Expert, in other words, even to the eyes of a layman. Dumbfounded and blinking on the shore, Yujin is suddenly warm, passed under a gust of hot air; when he turns back to his clothes, disbelieving, they're even drier than the slightly-damp under-kimono he's still got on.
He turns back to Stephen with wide eyes. He couldn't feign the wonder in them if he tried. Before he can stop himself, he breathes an awestruck--] Incredible. [because it is, genuinely, then takes the towel. Stephen's go at showing off? Absolutely successful.]
No. I swallowed a bit of water, but otherwise, I'm all right. Thank you.
[Yet, after resurfacing from toweling off his face and hair, Yujin's expression turns dubious. Facetiously so, though. The man's cloak just dropped him in a river, he's allowed to poke at Stephen for fun.
Yujin drapes the damp towel over his shoulders and raises an eyebrow:] And you waited until after I'd removed half my clothes to do that?
[ It never gets old. Rare these days that he gets to experience the undiluted high of wonder himself - magic is wonderful, he's in awe of it all the time, but it's also his bread and butter, his study, his sword. The same isn't true for everyone. To see that honest thrill of awestruck delight echoed back at him in the eyes of a man not so far from the age he was when he first found it has a little frisson of joy bloom abruptly somewhere behind his sternum.
A heady drug, that one. But it's always good to be reminded that magic really can be just that. Magic.
The conversation moves, Stephen allowing a soft, lopsided smile to stick around right up until Yujin pulls the pin on a belter of a question and, buoyed by the recent shot to the ego (incredible is still a compliment even when it's also legitimately moving), bats back an answer almost before the question has time to land. ]
Who's going to interrupt a free show?
[ It's funny because the 'show' was Yujin attempting to shimmy his way out of his sodden hakama to eventual success (never mind the kimono, we don't need to talk about the kimono) and he doesn't let it linger because it's only ever after he's finished a quip that he realises maybe he simply should've left it in his mouth. ]
Technically you were never actually wet, so maybe the real question is why you decided to disrobe in the first place.
[ It's an rebuttal gifted to him by the angels of abrupt realisation. To the best of his understanding, the Sunlight Room is a fixed simulation. Feels real in here, is real in here... but walk out the door? He's fairly sure Yujin's going to be as dry as when he walked in.
Whether or not that's actually true, he has a lifetime of practice saying things confidently and believing he's right. So, brows raised and waiting, expression bright with play and faux innocence, Stephen watches the proverbial ball sail back into the other man's court. Try him again, Mikotoba, he was born ready to parry. ]
[His smile, of course, has not been lost on Yujin, an uncommon enough sight on Stephen's face for it to be especially noteworthy. The pride is there, and yet it readily gives way, filling up its space with something warmer and more earnest than ego alone.
The well-worn methodology of a master of his craft, made novel again through an observer's fresh eyes. The thought of it stirs a nagging, familiar feeling in the back of Yujin's mind that he cannot quite place.
All this, however, was a few crucial moments and two extremely loaded sentences ago-- all other considerations have been banished to the same place that all his non-wizard concerns went when he took an impromptu dip. The Sunlight Room is nothing but a skillfully-wrought illusion, something he'd entirely forgotten in the excitement. In other words, Stephen is probably correct. Which also means that Yujin has, most likely, stripped down to nearly his underwear for no reason at all.
(Free show, did he seriously just say that out loud--)]
Ah.
[The proverbial ball bounces once. Thank god for the years he's spent building up his composure: Yujin's expression stays deadpan until he gathers himself, swinging back with his own retort.]
So, because you "technically" wouldn't be wet, you wouldn't mind it if you were pushed back in there yourself.
[Standing with his arms akimbo, Yujin glances up at the cloak, then back to Stephen, his tone challenging despite the evenness of his face.]
[ Stephen stands rooted to his spot as a pause stretches out between them, watching for the well-concealed beats of Yujin processing his play and readying a return, unsure for a time what to expect from the evenness of his expression or his planted hands...
—Oho?
Those raised brows scoot a little higher, and with gargantuan effort he keeps his own face an artful mask of surprise. ]
Is that a threat, Dr. Mikotoba?
[ And don't think he missed that little glance to the cloak either. He shoots a glance up at it himself, the surprise melting into exaggerated indignation - too over-egged to be anything other than part of the game.
And there are two ways to play this. One, he could stand here perfectly politely and wait to see if Yujin's really going to come and try dunking him. Or - and number two wins out immediately, the tell of a muscle twitch breaking ranks, an almost-but-not-quite ghost of a smirk as the chance for frivolity after months of such extreme caution overrides his better judgment - he could force his hand.
At his side, subtle as he can manage but far from imperceptible, one hand trills its fingers through the air. And then there's a ball of water approximately the size of an average snowball lifting out of the river and flying directly toward Yujin Mikotoba's torso.
Me? Threaten you? [His stoic expression falters. Even as he feigns affront at the mere suggestion, amusement twinkles in Yujin's eyes, and a smirk of his own tugs subtly at the corner of his lip.] You're making a serious accusation, Dr. Strange.
[Already he's formed about half a plan in his head. If he can simply drag the game on a bit longer, perhaps subtly appeal to the cloak's mischievous nature, he can definitely find some way to knock the other man into the water before he realizes it's happening. No trouble at all. He lifts his arms off his hips, prepared to lower them back to his sides--
Only... he's failed to account for the magic?]
W-wait!
[It's too late. Stephen's seized the advantage, and he never even saw the man cast the spell. Yujin, panicked, flattens his palms and sticks his hands out in front of him; obviously, that isn't going to stop the ball of water sailing at him, so he makes a break to his right. For a doctor-professor off his prime by a few years, he's still fairly light on his feet. Not light enough to miss it completely, however.
But it hardly matters, because he's cracked completely now. Through a chuckle, he manages the name] Stephen! [and as he scrambles away, it bubbles into more; less shy, all that restraint slipping away.] I was only joking-- ah! [The ball of water connects. Though it's a glancing blow's, it's still a blow, and the resulting splash soaks his left sleeve through all over again.
And at last, Yujin Mikotoba-- helpless to stop it-- bursts into a peal of genuine laughter: easy, free, heart lighter than it has been in many months.]
Now you've done it!
[Never mind Stephen's joggers. It's entirely unfair that only one of them is wet right now. Using the momentum he's gathered, Yujin advances upon Stephen; he reaches to grab him by a sleeve, moves a leg to sweep one of Stephen's out from under him, and shoves him backward, hoping to knock him into the water below.]
[ He's expecting retaliation. Ready for it. What he's not expecting is for retaliation to be so swift and sure-footed.
One second Yujin's laughing, really laughing, easy and bright in a way he's not seen him before and the laughter's infectious and Stephen can't help the chuckle that's pulled from him like water from a stone caught off guard—
And the next Yujin's got him. There's nothing to grab for to keep his balance, the other man's grip putting Stephen's arm between the two of them and nothing in the way of his seeking hands, so-much-for-loyal cloak floating benignly a long way out of reach. ]
Oh, fu—
[ So he goes down. And the water may not be real, but it's wet right now, and Stephen lands awkwardly from the where the grip and the sweeping leg had unsettled his balance so one entire side of him gets dipped before the arm under him can shove him back out of it again. He low-key tries to keep himself balanced on that one arm, teeters on the brink of thinking he might be able to push himself up out of the water all the way and keep half a dry torso - and loses the battle.
Slumping back to centre has the dry parts of his shirt guzzling up water from below. Propped up on his hands, sodden from pretty much the neck down save for a few just damp patches on his torso, he sits there in the shallows staring up at Yujin on the bank with an impossibly straight face... for the all of five seconds he can hold it before his expression cracks into a smirk. Then a grin. Then laughter leaking low and rich at his own expense and their shared victory over another morose day in a row of morose days. And for all his laughter is just as earnest as the mirth spilling from Yujin, it's also got a little natural edge of this could well be the prelude to a dastardly plan.
He lifts a hand out of the water, still grinning as he sweeps it over his mostly dry hair, an expertly elaborate ruse— and then brings it down palm flat and angled like a blade into the water. Where any other person's hand might cause a tiny little wave on impact his sends a sudden sheet of water rising up out of the river about the height of a man and moving fast toward where, as if by magic, a man just so happens to be standing.
The first time was an accident. The second time barely a splash. This one's vengeance, but at least it's served with a smile. ]
[The entire scene's absurd: two grown men who are much too old for this fighting in the water like boys. But perhaps it's also something necessary. Though both bedraggled and thoroughly drenched now, they've still won-- against the orbs, against another day of giving into worlds upon worlds of despair. And he's made Stephen laugh. For once on this station, victory really does feel like victory. Yujin can endure getting a little wet for that.
Of course, it's a mistake to forget about the magic a second time. Just as he shuffles over to Stephen, the last of his laughter bubbling away, the other man brings his hand down like a knife. Yujin might be fast, but he isn't fast enough to evade a man-sized wave crashing into him head-long.]
Hey! [he starts, and never finishes: he's sputtering water in the next instant, stumbling backward several steps. So much for that earlier drying spell. Yujin, a little damp before, is streaming water all over again.]
You're-- [Chuckling, Yujin fruitlessly wipes at his face with a sleeve that is just as wet.] --you're an awful cheater, I can't do magic!
[As if to illustrate, he swipes an arm outward: there's no five-foot curtain of water, but it does shower Stephen with a few stray droplets.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action.
And stops, yanking itself back as it recognises the man looking out over water running under the bridge.
Company arrives almost silently. The cloak hovers carefully closer until it's near enough to set a careful fold of fabric on Yujin's shoulder to announce its presence. ]
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Which brings him to an imaginary bridge over an imaginary river, dreamed up into a very large terrarium, within a metal ship outside of time. Without the Sunlight Room, he'd have lost his mind ages ago. Since he first arrived all many months ago now, the nature, illusory though it may well be, has been grounding in its familiarity among so much that is unfamiliar. It's true even moreso now, with Yujin's mind in several places at once. He has apologies to make; thanks to give; difficult conversations he needs to begin, sooner rather than later.
And then, after the more pressing issues... there is the small matter of Stephen Strange.
Yujin, staring down into the creek, makes a face.
It's a good thing he does, too. Watching his own sorry reflection etching deeper wrinkles onto his forehead is the only reason he catches the blurry red glimpse of the cloak behind him. But before he can turn around, the cloak drapes a little of itself over him, feeling very much like someone has tried to put a blanket halfway on his shoulder. It's funny enough to draw half a smile out of Yujin. With a loose, gentle grip (how do you greet a sentient piece of cloth?) he takes a bit of the cloak's hem between his fingers.]
Hello, there. It's been quite some time since we saw each other last, hasn't it?
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Then it shifts, lining up and lowering until it's suspended properly over Yujin's shoulders, leaving just enough time for the man to duck and weave if he'd rather not be enveloped in a big heavy hug of a fabric sheet (but not necessarily enough time to realise that's an option) before it settles in to be properly worn.
It allows its full weight to be felt around the shoulders, a steady downward hanging pressure that differs from how it might have felt in flight: more weighted blanket than weightless levitation. But it keeps the piece of fabric Yujin had held in greeting within his reach in spite of the mild contortion required, pats the outside of his opposite thigh with the same side's edge in quiet camaraderie.
Hey buddy. It's ok. ]
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Is. Is the cloak hugging him???
The answer comes when it... pats him. On the leg. He'd already felt a little silly, shaking its "hand", but this is definitely another level of weirdness. Not unwelcome, of course-- he's liked the cloak since it rescued him and Ciri-- just strange.
Well, he may as well lean into it. He releases his grip on the cloak and pulls it closer around his shoulders, like a blanket.]
Very perceptive for a flying jacket, aren't you. [he says, sounding sheepish.] Have you been put up to this?
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In the end, the kind wolf wins by merit of the confounding suggestion that Stephen Strange might have recently acquired the ability to be so boldly considerate of another adult humans' feelings that he'd send a hugagram to track down Yujin on the fly.
Instead of offer anything that might be a concrete answer, the cloak goes for a shrug - corners lifting up in to the air in front of Yujin in an entirely non-committal gesture that conveniently puts it in a perfect position to fold in on itself, wrapping one corner over the other and tucking in, effectively making a loose burrito of its wearer's legs.
Very perceptive is admission of need, and admission of need requires immediate escalation.
Plus, Yujin's already proving more tolerant of the cloak's attempts at comfort than a certain somebody else had been this early in their acquaintance. So it doesn't mind hold off a little longer on finding him - it's a good cause. ]
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Yes, well...
[How is he supposed to shrug the cloak off when it can move on its own? After it's been so nice to him, it doesn't feel right to just pull the thing off. If he moves his legs and the cloak doesn't shift along with him, he might stumble right over and into the water.
He opts for a safe, if awkward, reach down to untuck the cloak's corners from around him. His arms aren't completely accessible, which results in Yujin hunching over even more into a cloak-bundled shape in the process.]
It's, er, very kind of you to say hello. [He glances around: surely its owner has got to be nearby?] Stephen must be wondering where you've gone, though.
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The cloak can tell when it's making someone uncomfortable, and while it's clearly willing to toe the line it does do Yujin a solid and let up around his legs when he goes fishing for its corners. By the time he stands back up in search of S t e p h e n it's hanging like a regular shmegular bit of outerwear again—
For the approximately 5 seconds it takes said Stephen Strange to make his timely appearance, entering Sunlight Room Stage Left in search of a certain flying friend.
A friend who forgets Yujin in an instant. Forgets him so fast that when it lifts up in anticipation of zooming full pelt across the not inconsiderable distance between the bridge and Stephen it doesn't remember to let go of the man it's already carrying.
And zoom it does. With land and water no obstacle the cloak absolutely pegs it in a straight line from A (bridge) to B (clueless wizard), only realising with Stephen almost in acquisition's reach that it can't actually acquire him with a passenger already on board. It's at this point that the cloak dips down, skimming low over the water, yanking on the breaks with a billow of fabric so it can deposit its cargo safely down onto dry (wet?) land (water?) and dart off again to barrel into Stephen at far too many knots.
By the time the cloak's fastening itself aggressively over his shoulders and spinning itself tight around him, pulling him off his balance and into the air, Stephen's just about had enough time to take in the scene. He's batting at the cloak's lining almost immediately and with a quick extension of magic and will (and a frantic little whisper of what are you doing?) the two of them are making their way back over to Yujin wherever he might have landed. Stephen touches down and crouches immediately to offer help up, expression a frowning mix of concern and Embarrassment. ]
—Sorry. You okay?
[ Why are you like this you wretched piece of clothing he missed you so much. ]
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Good thing he can swim, huh!!!
Yujin bobs right back up, looking in top form: sputtering water, wet hair plastered to his forehead, haori askew and hanging off an arm, his kimono half-open. He's still coughing up water when Stephen fishes him out by the arm. Whether Yujin ducking his head is a nod, or an attempt to hide the embarrassment on his face, is unclear.
Also, he's still only 70% sure of how he got launched into the river at top speed. Just... you know... give him a second, Stephen.]
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Not so much.
Now that it's here and happening, Yujin's head ducked and the rest of his expression shielded by hair, Stephen finds himself in the unexpected position of feeling - bashful?
It's the fact that his very own piece of unruly outerwear just dunked Yujin into an open body of water in a fit of sheer carelessness and there's nothing he can do to un-dunk him. It's obviously that. Embarrassing because he owns said garment, mortifying because Yujin's soaked and expelling water, the math is mathing.
But it's also not not in part owed to Yujin's present state of (un)dress.
Unwrapped is the first word that comes to mind, rapidly dismissed, but... he's lived with Yujin before, they've both seen one another outside of their respective formal attires, and there's a difference between seeing a man in a t-shirt and sweatpants and—
There are certain people for whom even a flash of ankle in an unexpected context could seem scandalous. It takes this exact situation for Stephen to realise that, as far as he's concerned, Yujin is one of those people. And this is not a flash of ankle.
He stays close, up to his thighs in the water, arm still out for support until Stephen can be sure Yujin's not about to cough up a lung or trip on the haori that's half hanging off of him and staring, by inevitable consequence of Yujin's hung head and his own lack of desire to make eye contact before he's prepared for it, at the bared patch of skin at the centre of his chest. It's a predicament. Can't look away, not before he's sure he's alright, that would be neglectful. And can't look anywhere else, that would be disrespectful. So where collarbone crests and smooths down into sternum it is. Fine.
Like this, in silence, Stephen simply. Stands.
The great and powerful Dr. Stephen Strange, felled by bad cloak handling and the sudden development of a crushing personal sense of the largely outmoded social norm officially known as propriety.
It's no good. He can't just stand here. When he speaks it's sheepish, run together and quiet with a caution that doesn't actually want to burst the safe bubble of non-speech they've lapsed into. ]
I am so sorry.
[ The cloak, perpetrator of this entire mess, floats safely above the waterline, watching on. ]
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And he isn't inhaling deep lungfuls of water now, either. Always a plus.
Yujin straightens, swiping a hand back over his forehead. The effect is a near-approximation of his usual slicked-back hairstyle, which.... will have to serve, for now.]
It's-- [he manages at last, voice somewhat rough from coughing,] --it's all right! It was an accident.
[He hopes so, anyway. He casts an incredulous look up at the cloak as it hovers before them: after they had such a good thing going, too?
Having finally recovered his senses and realized that yes, he was just tossed into the river by a magical flying cloak, Yujin doesn't let go of Stephen's arm just yet. His head's still spinning a little, and as enticing as just sinking to the bottom and staying there sounds, he should probably be working on not losing his balance and slipping under again.]
The cloak was on my shoulders before it rushed over to you. I didn't realize it was so excitable.
[Speaking of, his clothes are a mess. As he speaks, Yujin shucks off his soaked haori and drapes it over an elbow; he tugs his outer kimono closed over his chest. Once they're back on dry land, he'll likely remove it, too, simply leaving on his juban under-kimono while the rest of his clothes dry. Or perhaps, he could just have a change of clothes brought over, now that Stephen is--
Yujin, finally looking Stephen in the eyes-- and finding he isn't quite meeting them-- blinks.
Yujin Mikotoba is a doctor. Moreover, he is Japanese. What Stephen assumes about his propriety is only partially correct. Being disheveled in general is a far greater worry to him than accidentally showing a bit of skin: after all, he's been naked at the public baths before, and it isn't as if he hadn't seen Stephen walking about without a shirt last mission. A bit of nudity is hardly out of the ordinary for two grown men who are friendly with each other.
Unless one man is caught staring, which. That is. Well. Potentially not.... friendly...?
Instead of devoting any brainpower to addressing that, Yujin lets go of Stephen abruptly and begins stumbling toward the shore, hakama sloshing about in the wet. If his ears are slightly pink, no they aren't.]
Anyway, no harm done! It's fine! I'm quite fine!
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Here you go, Yujin, as a good will gesture for your last poorly rated journey, a complimentary trip the short way from In The River to Not In The River Anymore by way of one Cloak of Levitation.
Touchdown is a lot more gentle this time, and comes accompanied with the calming background noise of yet more sloshing as Stephen wades his way out of the water too, black joggers less of an obstacle for motion that Yujin's hakama had been. The cloak almost doubles back for him after setting Yujin very carefully down on the shore, but must think better of it after the look it receives from Stephen and instead resumes its nearby hovering. Not around Yujin's shoulders anymore though, mind - just because one of them got wet completely accidentally through no fault of anyone's doesn't mean they all need to get soaked, does it? ]
At least let me help you dry off.
[ There's apology all over his expression but with Yujin safely covered and seemingly no harm done Stephen is at least no longer avoiding looking him in the eye, even if he's not quite taking fine for an answer.
At least let me help you dry off is, of course, a completely normal thing to say in this situation and requires no notes. ]
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Now, the first order of business: not being in sopping wet clothes. Yujin focuses on that, and pointedly only on that, as he begins to shed those many layers. He begins by wriggling, somehow, out of the soaked hakama, then abandons them on the grass to dry.
Soon enough, however, the splashing behind him has ceased, signaling that Stephen's made it back onto the riverbank himself.
There's a sardonic expression on his face as he meets Stephen's eyes.] I don't suppose you could conjure up a towel... [It's a joke, largely, but if Stephen is capable, he's not about to decline. Especially now that he's having to remove-- indeed, unwrap-- his outer kimono, leaving only the inner red juban kimono
thank GOD he didn't wear white today SMALL MERCIES.But there's something about Stephen's apologetic expression, and the guilty hovering of the cloak nearby, that puts the ridiculousness of the whole event right over the top. He does, after all, still have a sense of humor. Yujin's mouth twists into a lightly self-deprecating smile.]
Anyway. How is your morning, Stephen?
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There's just something about locally sourced, hand made, silver platter served opportunities to show off.
It's a quick spell. Hands lift and shift through three quick movements, like he's working on an invisible Rubik's cube, and then he bats at the air with the back of one hand as if shooing something away— and a warm front moves like a wall from where Stephen stands to where Yujin does, a sheet of dry heat that swallows the water up out of the laid-out hakama as it passes and will do the same to anything else that moves through it. It'll take a couple of passes or focused exposure to fully dry through all the folds in all the very many layers Yujin's (no longer) wearing, but he can now be fairly described as damp rather than drowned.
As a flourish, once that first wave has passed and stripped the excess wet from dripping clothes, there is now a towel in Stephen's hand. ]
Better than at least one person on the station's, so that's something.
[ Yours, Yujin, better than yours. Crossing the distance himself now, he offers the towel out for Yujin to take. And he'll get back to the lighter tone in a minute, but he does just have to do some due diligence - ]
No risk that you hit your head?
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His friend's movements are, he can tell at a glance, fluid and instinctive. Expert, in other words, even to the eyes of a layman. Dumbfounded and blinking on the shore, Yujin is suddenly warm, passed under a gust of hot air; when he turns back to his clothes, disbelieving, they're even drier than the slightly-damp under-kimono he's still got on.
He turns back to Stephen with wide eyes. He couldn't feign the wonder in them if he tried. Before he can stop himself, he breathes an awestruck--] Incredible. [because it is, genuinely, then takes the towel. Stephen's go at showing off? Absolutely successful.]
No. I swallowed a bit of water, but otherwise, I'm all right. Thank you.
[Yet, after resurfacing from toweling off his face and hair, Yujin's expression turns dubious. Facetiously so, though. The man's cloak just dropped him in a river, he's allowed to poke at Stephen for fun.
Yujin drapes the damp towel over his shoulders and raises an eyebrow:] And you waited until after I'd removed half my clothes to do that?
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A heady drug, that one. But it's always good to be reminded that magic really can be just that. Magic.
The conversation moves, Stephen allowing a soft, lopsided smile to stick around right up until Yujin pulls the pin on a belter of a question and, buoyed by the recent shot to the ego (incredible is still a compliment even when it's also legitimately moving), bats back an answer almost before the question has time to land. ]
Who's going to interrupt a free show?
[ It's funny because the 'show' was Yujin attempting to shimmy his way out of his sodden hakama to eventual success (never mind the kimono, we don't need to talk about the kimono) and he doesn't let it linger because it's only ever after he's finished a quip that he realises maybe he simply should've left it in his mouth. ]
Technically you were never actually wet, so maybe the real question is why you decided to disrobe in the first place.
[ It's an rebuttal gifted to him by the angels of abrupt realisation. To the best of his understanding, the Sunlight Room is a fixed simulation. Feels real in here, is real in here... but walk out the door? He's fairly sure Yujin's going to be as dry as when he walked in.
Whether or not that's actually true, he has a lifetime of practice saying things confidently and believing he's right. So, brows raised and waiting, expression bright with play and faux innocence, Stephen watches the proverbial ball sail back into the other man's court. Try him again, Mikotoba, he was born ready to parry. ]
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The well-worn methodology of a master of his craft, made novel again through an observer's fresh eyes. The thought of it stirs a nagging, familiar feeling in the back of Yujin's mind that he cannot quite place.
All this, however, was a few crucial moments and two extremely loaded sentences ago-- all other considerations have been banished to the same place that all his non-wizard concerns went when he took an impromptu dip. The Sunlight Room is nothing but a skillfully-wrought illusion, something he'd entirely forgotten in the excitement. In other words, Stephen is probably correct. Which also means that Yujin has, most likely, stripped down to nearly his underwear for no reason at all.
(Free show, did he seriously just say that out loud--)]
Ah.
[The proverbial ball bounces once. Thank god for the years he's spent building up his composure: Yujin's expression stays deadpan until he gathers himself, swinging back with his own retort.]
So, because you "technically" wouldn't be wet, you wouldn't mind it if you were pushed back in there yourself.
[Standing with his arms akimbo, Yujin glances up at the cloak, then back to Stephen, his tone challenging despite the evenness of his face.]
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—Oho?
Those raised brows scoot a little higher, and with gargantuan effort he keeps his own face an artful mask of surprise. ]
Is that a threat, Dr. Mikotoba?
[ And don't think he missed that little glance to the cloak either. He shoots a glance up at it himself, the surprise melting into exaggerated indignation - too over-egged to be anything other than part of the game.
And there are two ways to play this. One, he could stand here perfectly politely and wait to see if Yujin's really going to come and try dunking him. Or - and number two wins out immediately, the tell of a muscle twitch breaking ranks, an almost-but-not-quite ghost of a smirk as the chance for frivolity after months of such extreme caution overrides his better judgment - he could force his hand.
At his side, subtle as he can manage but far from imperceptible, one hand trills its fingers through the air. And then there's a ball of water approximately the size of an average snowball lifting out of the river and flying directly toward Yujin Mikotoba's torso.
Come at him, professor. Dunk him if you dare. ]
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[Already he's formed about half a plan in his head. If he can simply drag the game on a bit longer, perhaps subtly appeal to the cloak's mischievous nature, he can definitely find some way to knock the other man into the water before he realizes it's happening. No trouble at all. He lifts his arms off his hips, prepared to lower them back to his sides--
Only... he's failed to account for the magic?]
W-wait!
[It's too late. Stephen's seized the advantage, and he never even saw the man cast the spell. Yujin, panicked, flattens his palms and sticks his hands out in front of him; obviously, that isn't going to stop the ball of water sailing at him, so he makes a break to his right. For a doctor-professor off his prime by a few years, he's still fairly light on his feet. Not light enough to miss it completely, however.
But it hardly matters, because he's cracked completely now. Through a chuckle, he manages the name] Stephen! [and as he scrambles away, it bubbles into more; less shy, all that restraint slipping away.] I was only joking-- ah! [The ball of water connects. Though it's a glancing blow's, it's still a blow, and the resulting splash soaks his left sleeve through all over again.
And at last, Yujin Mikotoba-- helpless to stop it-- bursts into a peal of genuine laughter: easy, free, heart lighter than it has been in many months.]
Now you've done it!
[Never mind Stephen's joggers. It's entirely unfair that only one of them is wet right now. Using the momentum he's gathered, Yujin advances upon Stephen; he reaches to grab him by a sleeve, moves a leg to sweep one of Stephen's out from under him, and shoves him backward, hoping to knock him into the water below.]
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One second Yujin's laughing, really laughing, easy and bright in a way he's not seen him before and the laughter's infectious and Stephen can't help the chuckle that's pulled from him like water from a stone caught off guard—
And the next Yujin's got him. There's nothing to grab for to keep his balance, the other man's grip putting Stephen's arm between the two of them and nothing in the way of his seeking hands, so-much-for-loyal cloak floating benignly a long way out of reach. ]
Oh, fu—
[ So he goes down. And the water may not be real, but it's wet right now, and Stephen lands awkwardly from the where the grip and the sweeping leg had unsettled his balance so one entire side of him gets dipped before the arm under him can shove him back out of it again. He low-key tries to keep himself balanced on that one arm, teeters on the brink of thinking he might be able to push himself up out of the water all the way and keep half a dry torso - and loses the battle.
Slumping back to centre has the dry parts of his shirt guzzling up water from below. Propped up on his hands, sodden from pretty much the neck down save for a few just damp patches on his torso, he sits there in the shallows staring up at Yujin on the bank with an impossibly straight face... for the all of five seconds he can hold it before his expression cracks into a smirk. Then a grin. Then laughter leaking low and rich at his own expense and their shared victory over another morose day in a row of morose days. And for all his laughter is just as earnest as the mirth spilling from Yujin, it's also got a little natural edge of this could well be the prelude to a dastardly plan.
He lifts a hand out of the water, still grinning as he sweeps it over his mostly dry hair, an expertly elaborate ruse— and then brings it down palm flat and angled like a blade into the water. Where any other person's hand might cause a tiny little wave on impact his sends a sudden sheet of water rising up out of the river about the height of a man and moving fast toward where, as if by magic, a man just so happens to be standing.
The first time was an accident. The second time barely a splash. This one's vengeance, but at least it's served with a smile. ]
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Of course, it's a mistake to forget about the magic a second time. Just as he shuffles over to Stephen, the last of his laughter bubbling away, the other man brings his hand down like a knife. Yujin might be fast, but he isn't fast enough to evade a man-sized wave crashing into him head-long.]
Hey! [he starts, and never finishes: he's sputtering water in the next instant, stumbling backward several steps. So much for that earlier drying spell. Yujin, a little damp before, is streaming water all over again.]
You're-- [Chuckling, Yujin fruitlessly wipes at his face with a sleeve that is just as wet.] --you're an awful cheater, I can't do magic!
[As if to illustrate, he swipes an arm outward: there's no five-foot curtain of water, but it does shower Stephen with a few stray droplets.]