st_unning | Day in the Spa

"Perhaps!" said Alcuin. "I also hope that there are others here who might have suitable skills for a spa. I know about massage, but that is about it. I'm not really sure what a facial is, for example."

They walked inside the main entrance of the spa. There was a slight smell of subtle scents of lotion and soap, even though the bottles had all been closed up for some time, Alcuin assumed.

"A facial would be one or more of several types of skin treatment for the face. Masks, and so forth." Ignis shrugged. His own skill set had never come close to including either facials or massages, given Noct's frequent discomfort with being touched at all in general. "Perhaps there are instructions somewhere for the procedures you don't know." It was a long shot, but had to be a non-zero possibility.

"Perhaps," Alcuin said. "I do enjoy learning new things. So - " He began describing the space around them. "There are a number of massage tables, and also chairs by sinks. There is a steam room, and showers, and... I believe they are called jacuzzis? There are a number of massage oils and other products that I can't quite identify."

Yes, he was present to be company, but the idea of helping Alcuin get his place arranged was a pleasant one, so Ignis started moving around the space. Slowly and carefully, subtly using his feet to swipe for obstacles since he hadn't even bothered to bring his cane out of his room in weeks.

There had to be some kind of desk or office with... appointment books, inventory ledgers, something. A computer. They would be of no use to him, but might provide Alcuin with some usable information. "The chairs by sinks are likely for hair or face washing, particularly if there's a divot in the front. The patron rests his or her neck there to put their head over the sink and make the washing easier for the one performing it."

Alcuin looked over at them. "That makes sense," he said. Then imagined it, finding that the position made a lot of sense. "I know how to do that... wash hair, scalp massage." He opened a cabinet above the sinks, finding an array of soap... shampoo. Just for hair, he assumed.

The combination of faint floral/herbal/fruit smell was oddly soothing despite how indistinct it was, and the space was well-arranged enough that Ignis didn't even come close to humiliating himself by crashing into something while trying to avoid another thing. No desk, yet, but the space was taking shape around him at least. "If we can find proper scissors, hair-cutting is another service that will likely be called for, sooner or later. I doubt that anyone's hair will cease to grow just because we're trapped here."

"I have no idea how, but I suppose I could learn," Alcuin said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure who would want to let me practice on them, though..."

He moved closer to Ignis, and leaned over him to open another cabinet. This one had a variety of bottles of oil. "What sorts of scents do you like?"

"They're mainly food-based. Coffee. Vanilla, cinnamon, and so on. Terribly predictable, I know." After a moment of thought , Ignis added, "I confess I've always liked jasmine, as well, though I mainly know it from tea. You?"

Alcuin hummed a bit as he began looking through the bottles. "Jasmine is one of the houses of the night court in Terre D'Ange," he said. "Their canon is pleasure for pleasure's sake."

Then he made a happy little noise and pulled out a bottle. He opened it and held it closer to Ignis. It was jasmine vanilla.

Ignis couldn't think of a canon less appropriate to him, and wondered absently if he should find a different scent to like, given its meaning. Clover, perhaps: a pleasant and inoffensive scent, but on no one's list of top choices.

He might have continued along that thought process, even started checking to see if there were any scents like that, when the jasmine vanilla hit his nose and... it was unfair, really, that combination. It was. Two scents he already liked well, combined into one that should have been too sweet but wasn't, in the hands of... well, anyone's hands would have been awkward, but.... Unfair. "Yes. Um. That one, definitely, would be on my list of favorites."

"I thought you would like it," Alcuin said, sounding pleased.

He hesitated, and then said, "Ignis, please feel free to say no if you'd rather not, but if you'd like... I'd like to... try things out. Give a massage table a spin."

That was a bad idea. Ignis liked Alcuin, the young man was good company, an intelligent and interesting conversationalist, a warm presence. A friend. Almost certainly, Alcuin had had enough of crass attention, and part of the pleasure he found in Ignis's company was that a blind man didn't, couldn't, react the same way as so many others. Surely would be a bad idea to invite the kind of hurt and awkwardness - for them both! - that could result from hands on skin.

And yet, provided he could control his own reactions - assuming there would be any, of course - who would know whether he enjoyed being touched or simply allowed it to help a friend? Alcuin wanted to test his skill on a friend first instead of a stranger, nothing more. Distance could always be recalibrated afterward, surely.

Excuses on both sides, and Ignis could have gone around in mental circles for much longer than he allowed himself, which was about half a minute. At that point, he nodded. There'd never been any real chance he'd turn down Alcuin's offer. "It would be best to practice on someone you know, at that, especially given how much of this place is unfamiliar in general. Tell me what you'd like me to do."

Of course Alcuin felt his hesitation. There were a number of reasons he might hesitate, most perfectly valid.

"I truly am not offended if it makes you uncomfortable," Alcuin said gently. "Though I promise I mean nothing... untoward."

Though he could not deny that he knew he would enjoy touching the other man. Still, he had very good self control.

"Of course you don't." The response, in a reassuring tone, was immediate and nearly automatic. Yes, of course he didn't. That idea would have been patently ridiculous. Alcuin's intentions were not in question, all the questioning was for Ignis himself.

But he could be neutral, couldn't he? It wasn't like he hadn't had practice. Keep still and hold off on worry and apologies until there was actually something to worry or apologize for. "I'm not uncomfortable," something of a lie, the mix of desire for touch/concern for feelings/shame for wanting at all wasn't exactly comfortable, "merely given to considering unexpected questions at length. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to relax," Alcuin said gently. "Though that will be part of the point. Remove as much clothing as you are comfortable with. Only your shirt, if you like."

Ignis nodded obediently, though relaxation was a tall order, at the moment. He made an effort anyway, to loosen muscles that had tensed from stress. Said effort had only moderate success, but moderate was enough to allow him to unbutton and remove his shirt, then remove his undershirt, in an almost casual manner.

Despite the amount of fighting he'd done in his life, he didn't have many scars hidden under his shirt - a few faded-to-near-nonexistent training incidents, one or two more vicious slashes from the same battle that had scarred his face. None of them had impeded exercise or keeping fit, and of course he'd never seen the worse ones, so Ignis had never bothered being self-conscious about them.

Alcuin noted the scars but they did not surprise him. He knew that Ignis had been in battles. His scars were the surprising ones. He did not seem like someone who had been in battle... and he hadn't. But Ignis would never see his.

"There's a table to your left," he said, "that I think would work well. Lay on your stomach?"

There was indeed a table to his left, and a brief investigation let Ignis determine its dimensions well enough that he was able to settle on top of it, on his stomach as requested, with the absolute bare minimum of clumsy awkwardness.

Given the interaction that had just transpired, Alcuin thought it best not to compliment Ignis' physique. He was also not surprised when he left his trousers on, though in Terre d'Ange that would have been seen as a bit silly (not to mention limiting). Normally he might have insisted on nudity with a blanket over his bottom half, but thought that for now this would be fine.

The table was nice, and seemed comfortable, with soft padding and a place for him to lay his head to keep his neck straight.

"Relax as much as you can," he said, and then poured some of the scented oil between his hands, rubbing them together to warm it. Then he laid his hands on Ignis' back and began to spread the oil.

Ignis's instinct was to force himself to stay still and unreacting, to tense up just enough to counter relaxation; if he didn't react, he couldn't embarrass himself. Instead, he pushed down the instinct, an increasingly easy matter as Alcuin's hands smoothed over his skin; he wanted touch, no matter how little he should or how inappropriate it was.

Alcuin also wanted touch. To touch someone, but even more... to make someone feel good.

"I thought you might be tense," he said softly. "I can help." He placed one hand on Ignis' lower back, the other on top of it, and began making circles, pressing the heel of his hand slightly into his skin.

There was a lot of tension, mostly generalized rather than in painful knots. Immediate reactive tension was actually comparatively minor; most of it was long-term tension, born most of a lifetime trying to seem unflappable, untouchable, immune. In honesty, Ignis hadn't even realized it was there (fish didn't think about water) until Alcuin's gentle rubbing started smoothing it away. "You are not wrong on either point."

"So much tightness in your muscles... it comes from all the stress you've carried with you." He found that tightness with his hands, and gently, carefully smoothed it away.

"Likely to return, then, sooner or later." But not now. Now was fantastic, learning what relaxation actually felt like on top of the simple guilty pleasure of warm hands - Alcuin's hands - on his bare skin. Despite not being able to see, Ignis let his eyes drift closed behind his shades, as if that would let him concentrate better on the sensations.

"Does it feel all right?" Alcuin asked, finding that he craved some confirmation that he was doing something good. "It's helping, then?" One of his hands found the back of Ignis' neck and smoothed over it.

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