Devero stirs a little as they all start to shift, flinching instinctively when he feels himself being scooped up by-- oh. The sutra. What else? He lets it scoot him along and tucks himself right back into place against Yondu when the tendrils dissolve.
A breath too shaky to really be a sigh passes his parted lips when he feels Koumyou's wiry solidity against his back. He's able to relax again-- nope never mind now he's thinking about his machine-self and all the times Valdana had insinuated that she'd turn him out of Techstead if he didn't do what she wanted. Koumyou's so right about that, that Devero can't argue. He just nods along miserably.
He doesn't even try to argue that Valdana wasn't his owner. He'd worn her collar, hadn't he? Sure, that was only supposed to be for scenes, but-- but Koumyou's right. He'd been wrapped all the way around her finger, inside their relationship and out.
He fists the hand Koumyou's not holding against his throat, knuckles against a leather band not currently there.
"I... I don't think so," he murmurs in response to Yondu's question. A distraction? He'll take it!
It's not entirely warm body against the back of Yondu's arm; the bamboo breastplate worn over the Sanzo's chest is cool and smooth. And unlike the sutra, it doesn't move on its own.
Koumyou stays like this for a few moments, and then decides to sit up, scooting to put his back to the wall, his hip and leg still firmly against Devero's back -- and Yondu's poor arm.
"I don't think so either," Koumyou echoes, pulling the hand he has up to Dev's shoulder so he can start massaging it between both of his own. Actual massage, seiho, trying to physically wring some of the tension out of the other human.
He can feel Koumyou move around a bit, wondering if he's positioning himself to watch over Devero but doesn't ask it out loud, since he can tell something in him just shattered out of nowhere because of that question.
"When I's younger... say about three or four so? I dunno. Real early memory an' time from back then, I didn't have a good handle on. I was a message runner for one of my owners." Enemy troups were less likely to shoot an alien kid scrambling between places. Especially one that young. And Yondu couldn't really read back then. "One day I'm bringin' somethin' back to camp, an' there's this posh mobile set up the Lord owns there.
"He's got this comfort slave he's been keepin' with him. She's a Skrull. Means she can change forms to near anything if they got a talent for it and she did. She's pretty whipped by this point, won't argue, do whatever he'll say. Doesn't want things for herself. We only ever saw her bein' quiet around 'im an' he didn't let people interact with her much. But I go in to drop off this message, and she sees me, an' I see her light up. Been forever since she's talked to a kid I think. He's not there right then, so she talks to me a little bit. Asks how long it's been since I seen another Centaurian. Asks a few things. Then turns into one. Prettiest Centaurian woman you could imagine." Not that they could, probably. "Even whistles me a tune, an' she had the sound down pat.
"Whole thing had me feelin' pretty good. Until the Lord came in. Takes one look at her an' says somethin' along the lines of 'never had a Centaurian before'. Takes the message from me and sends me away."
The moral of this story has usually been, 'don't be too kind, it'll just get you fucked,' for him. But in this case, it's something else.
"I was a kid, but I knew somethin' was wrong. Also I couldn't do nothin' about it, not that little. At that point all I was good at is bein' skinny, runnin', an' hiding' places. Hell, I couldn't do nothin' about my station for a full twenty years. So I just did as I's told. But I still remember ever'thin' good about her, even now. I don't know how she saw herself, figure it was like all of us. Where we stopped seein' ourselves as people. But I just saw somethin' downright gorgeous, inside an' out.
"Pretty sure there were people that musta looked at you like that. You keep seein' yourself as some desperate kinda thing. But the way you're lookin' at yourself? Ever'body knows better than to agree with ya. Maybe people weren't in a position to help stop it, an' we ain't in one after the fact. But the very least we do is think more of ya than what ya do yourself."
Did Yondu ever come around to thinking of himself as a person? Yeah. The lack of identity sneaks up on him frequently, but it takes a person to make the shit decisions he made with his freedom.
That was a lot of words, though, and all of them said to some point at the wall rather than looking at anyone, and his raspy voice, rough throat vibrating near Devero's face as he told the whole thing.
Just as something in him had fractured when he finally let himself admit that he'd belonged to Valdana outside of their 'play' as much as in it, some of those fragments shift again as Yondu tells his story.
Over the past few years, as Valdana's use of him had become so obviously transactional, Devero had defaulted to assuming that everyone else was in on it. How could they be anything but? How could they look at him and see anything but what Valdana told him was so self-evident about himself, the predatory animal on the verge of losing control at all times? How could they consider him anything but an animal leashed and trained, a plaything carefully shaped by Valdana's guidance, an object given over for their gratification and nothing more?
There had been associates of his Madame's who were in on it-- the real 'it', not the BDSM playacting that disguised the abuse-- folks who saw him the same way she did and used him accordingly. But as Yondu tells them about the kind woman who'd changed into a Centaurian and whistled for a child, Devero recalls other encounters in a different light. He remembers shy smiles and sweet words and gentle hands, laying with people he might even might have chosen of his own volition, people who then greeted him later with warmth and affection that-- could it have been genuine?
Could some of those partners she'd chosen for him have seen him for himself? As a person participating of his own volition, rather than-- than as Madame Valdana's comfort slave?
And here, now, where it matters more than people he may never see again-- his self-image here is so fragile, so threatened by the cognitive dissonance of knowing that people here respect and value him and knowing that he's one slip of self-control away from showing the whole train that he's an untrustworthy sex-mad animal. He's had no choice but to believe the latter for so damn long that he--
He....
He doesn't know what to say. But the way his hand in Koumyou's remains tense despite the priest's skilled fingers working it speaks for him, as does the way he all but burrows against Yondu as the other man finishes the telling of it.
"Thank you," he manages finally, voice tight. For the story? For the perspective? For saying he thinks more of Devero than Devero does of himself?
Koumyou is quiet through this, still massaging Devero's tense hand in his, looking over at Yondu as he speaks and then down at Devero.
Softly, he adds his two cents, "You're more than what she tried to make you, Devero."
And it's not just Koumyou's bias talking; Yondu also sees it. There are plenty of other people on the train who see it, too, among those who have left and those who remain.
Yeah, he did just kind of do that, didn't he? Say that Devero was more than what he thought of himself. But currently there's a room full of people like that and not a one of them would likely admit it. Such is their curse, even from such wildly differing but equally shitty backgrounds. Relatable mostly in that important others deemed them expendable.
He has Devero half on him and it's warm and comfortable, and he squirms just a bit under him to make sure his limbs are situated in the most fitting places. Yondu gives Koumyou a curious look, like he's asking if this is alright as he combs his fingers through the younger man's hair and holds him a little tighter with the arm that's around him. If the Sanzo wants to take care of him himself, he can find a way to scooch out.
Devero pulls back a little as Yondu repositions himself, but as soon as the older man settles he tucks right back in. He's so, so desperate for the comfort; the fact that it comes from someone he admires is icing on the cake.
His partner's leg bracing his back is comforting too, and Devero understands that the massage is supposed to be as well-- he should probably be grateful for any attention he's getting, just enjoy it while it's offered, before either man realizes they've got better things to do then lay around and pat an emotional vampire of a--
Stop it, he tells himself, and is a little startled by the strength of that mental admonishment.
Unaware of Yondu trying to eye-chat Koumyou, he tangles the priest's fingers with his own and tugs. "L-lay back down?" he asks, his audible voice much more tremulous than his mental one a moment ago. He sounds plaintive and exhausted and so fucking needy and damn it if he doesn't flinch a little as if he expects to be taken to task for daring to make a request.
This is Koumyou, for fuck's sake, who's known that he's more than what she let him be since the first time they met! But Devero flinches anyway, and kind of hates himself for it.
"Okay," Koumyou squeezes Dev's fingers, then takes a moment to take the sutra off with his free hand, tucking the scroll it instantly turns into into his sleeve. Then the ceremonial bamboo breastplate comes off over his head, vanishing into the ARMs band.
He returns Yondu's weird look with a raised eyebrow, then scoots back down into the pile, pressing his wiry frame against Devero's back and Yondu's poor, trapped arm.
Then, because he's Koumyou and every serious moment needs jokes--
"So... you're finally getting to sleep with me, Yondu."
He can see what Koumyou is doing there. While Yondu's never been great at burying his sadness in humor (his usual go-to was anger) he can tell what it is. Sanding down the hard edges on something heavy so it doesn't hurt as much to lift it, where as Yondu's method is more for muscling through.
He snorts softly. "A present from Dev to you, I reckon." After all, he's the one who brought him.
Oh, how he relaxes when Koumyou's body tucks in behind his. He actually releases his hold on the collar he's not wearing to seize Koumyou's hand and drag the priest's arm around himself. Koumyou holding him from one side, Yondu from the other-- he releases a shaky breath and just sort of goes boneless between them.
His chuckle, when it drifts out from between the two older men, almost sounds normal for him. "Go for it," he murmurs. Sorry Koumyou, this is what you get for dating a hussy: encouragement. "I sure wouldn't mind.
"Maybe not while I'm right here, though," he adds, his voice going a little dry. "Not unless you want me involved too." Doesn't much sound like he'd object to that, though, given how warm and content his next huff of laughter is.
"Next time put a bow on him, Dev-chan," Koumyou says sleepily. Of the three of them, he's the one that is only joking.
Anything else, well. He and Dev should probably chat about that someday. He remains oblivious regardless. Devero's interest in Koumyou was a fluke, that's all.
"One of those big ones like they put on cars in the magazines."
Excuse you, Koumyou. He was just going along with the joke. Until that second comment happened from Dev and he might have reacted a little but only a little and he's hoping that it was ignored under that people pile going on.
"Hell yeah it'd take a biggun'." He yawns and shifts so his scarred cheek is leaning against Devero's forehead and his damn fin is safely out of anyone's way. This position is relatively comfortable.
Devero, of course, is absolutely not joking, but he can tell that neither of the other two is taking it seriously. So he just chuckles again, and this time plays along; "I'll have to order one next platform, then. Make it really really clear next time."
He peeks cross-eyed up at Yondu and smiles as the other man shifts in that much closer. He hasn't felt so comfortable in ages, and it's probably not going to take more than a moment or two of silence before he drifts off to sleep between the other two...
He mouths a soft 'yeah', without voicing it, and moves his hand from Devero's head as gently as possible to pat Koumyou's. An awkward reach to do it, but he does.
Then her rests his hand on Dev's shoulder. Easy to snooze from there.
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A breath too shaky to really be a sigh passes his parted lips when he feels Koumyou's wiry solidity against his back. He's able to relax again-- nope never mind now he's thinking about his machine-self and all the times Valdana had insinuated that she'd turn him out of Techstead if he didn't do what she wanted. Koumyou's so right about that, that Devero can't argue. He just nods along miserably.
He doesn't even try to argue that Valdana wasn't his owner. He'd worn her collar, hadn't he? Sure, that was only supposed to be for scenes, but-- but Koumyou's right. He'd been wrapped all the way around her finger, inside their relationship and out.
He fists the hand Koumyou's not holding against his throat, knuckles against a leather band not currently there.
"I... I don't think so," he murmurs in response to Yondu's question. A distraction? He'll take it!
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Koumyou stays like this for a few moments, and then decides to sit up, scooting to put his back to the wall, his hip and leg still firmly against Devero's back -- and Yondu's poor arm.
"I don't think so either," Koumyou echoes, pulling the hand he has up to Dev's shoulder so he can start massaging it between both of his own. Actual massage, seiho, trying to physically wring some of the tension out of the other human.
CW: recounting story with implied assault
"When I's younger... say about three or four so? I dunno. Real early memory an' time from back then, I didn't have a good handle on. I was a message runner for one of my owners." Enemy troups were less likely to shoot an alien kid scrambling between places. Especially one that young. And Yondu couldn't really read back then. "One day I'm bringin' somethin' back to camp, an' there's this posh mobile set up the Lord owns there.
"He's got this comfort slave he's been keepin' with him. She's a Skrull. Means she can change forms to near anything if they got a talent for it and she did. She's pretty whipped by this point, won't argue, do whatever he'll say. Doesn't want things for herself. We only ever saw her bein' quiet around 'im an' he didn't let people interact with her much. But I go in to drop off this message, and she sees me, an' I see her light up. Been forever since she's talked to a kid I think. He's not there right then, so she talks to me a little bit. Asks how long it's been since I seen another Centaurian. Asks a few things. Then turns into one. Prettiest Centaurian woman you could imagine." Not that they could, probably. "Even whistles me a tune, an' she had the sound down pat.
"Whole thing had me feelin' pretty good. Until the Lord came in. Takes one look at her an' says somethin' along the lines of 'never had a Centaurian before'. Takes the message from me and sends me away."
The moral of this story has usually been, 'don't be too kind, it'll just get you fucked,' for him. But in this case, it's something else.
"I was a kid, but I knew somethin' was wrong. Also I couldn't do nothin' about it, not that little. At that point all I was good at is bein' skinny, runnin', an' hiding' places. Hell, I couldn't do nothin' about my station for a full twenty years. So I just did as I's told. But I still remember ever'thin' good about her, even now. I don't know how she saw herself, figure it was like all of us. Where we stopped seein' ourselves as people. But I just saw somethin' downright gorgeous, inside an' out.
"Pretty sure there were people that musta looked at you like that. You keep seein' yourself as some desperate kinda thing. But the way you're lookin' at yourself? Ever'body knows better than to agree with ya. Maybe people weren't in a position to help stop it, an' we ain't in one after the fact. But the very least we do is think more of ya than what ya do yourself."
Did Yondu ever come around to thinking of himself as a person? Yeah. The lack of identity sneaks up on him frequently, but it takes a person to make the shit decisions he made with his freedom.
That was a lot of words, though, and all of them said to some point at the wall rather than looking at anyone, and his raspy voice, rough throat vibrating near Devero's face as he told the whole thing.
cw: sexual trafficking
Over the past few years, as Valdana's use of him had become so obviously transactional, Devero had defaulted to assuming that everyone else was in on it. How could they be anything but? How could they look at him and see anything but what Valdana told him was so self-evident about himself, the predatory animal on the verge of losing control at all times? How could they consider him anything but an animal leashed and trained, a plaything carefully shaped by Valdana's guidance, an object given over for their gratification and nothing more?
There had been associates of his Madame's who were in on it-- the real 'it', not the BDSM playacting that disguised the abuse-- folks who saw him the same way she did and used him accordingly. But as Yondu tells them about the kind woman who'd changed into a Centaurian and whistled for a child, Devero recalls other encounters in a different light. He remembers shy smiles and sweet words and gentle hands, laying with people he might even might have chosen of his own volition, people who then greeted him later with warmth and affection that-- could it have been genuine?
Could some of those partners she'd chosen for him have seen him for himself? As a person participating of his own volition, rather than-- than as Madame Valdana's comfort slave?
And here, now, where it matters more than people he may never see again-- his self-image here is so fragile, so threatened by the cognitive dissonance of knowing that people here respect and value him and knowing that he's one slip of self-control away from showing the whole train that he's an untrustworthy sex-mad animal. He's had no choice but to believe the latter for so damn long that he--
He....
He doesn't know what to say. But the way his hand in Koumyou's remains tense despite the priest's skilled fingers working it speaks for him, as does the way he all but burrows against Yondu as the other man finishes the telling of it.
"Thank you," he manages finally, voice tight. For the story? For the perspective? For saying he thinks more of Devero than Devero does of himself?
Yes.
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Softly, he adds his two cents, "You're more than what she tried to make you, Devero."
And it's not just Koumyou's bias talking; Yondu also sees it. There are plenty of other people on the train who see it, too, among those who have left and those who remain.
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He has Devero half on him and it's warm and comfortable, and he squirms just a bit under him to make sure his limbs are situated in the most fitting places. Yondu gives Koumyou a curious look, like he's asking if this is alright as he combs his fingers through the younger man's hair and holds him a little tighter with the arm that's around him. If the Sanzo wants to take care of him himself, he can find a way to scooch out.
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His partner's leg bracing his back is comforting too, and Devero understands that the massage is supposed to be as well-- he should probably be grateful for any attention he's getting, just enjoy it while it's offered, before either man realizes they've got better things to do then lay around and pat an emotional vampire of a--
Stop it, he tells himself, and is a little startled by the strength of that mental admonishment.
Unaware of Yondu trying to eye-chat Koumyou, he tangles the priest's fingers with his own and tugs. "L-lay back down?" he asks, his audible voice much more tremulous than his mental one a moment ago. He sounds plaintive and exhausted and so fucking needy and damn it if he doesn't flinch a little as if he expects to be taken to task for daring to make a request.
This is Koumyou, for fuck's sake, who's known that he's more than what she let him be since the first time they met! But Devero flinches anyway, and kind of hates himself for it.
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He returns Yondu's weird look with a raised eyebrow, then scoots back down into the pile, pressing his wiry frame against Devero's back and Yondu's poor, trapped arm.
Then, because he's Koumyou and every serious moment needs jokes--
"So... you're finally getting to sleep with me, Yondu."
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He snorts softly. "A present from Dev to you, I reckon." After all, he's the one who brought him.
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His chuckle, when it drifts out from between the two older men, almost sounds normal for him. "Go for it," he murmurs. Sorry Koumyou, this is what you get for dating a hussy: encouragement. "I sure wouldn't mind.
"Maybe not while I'm right here, though," he adds, his voice going a little dry. "Not unless you want me involved too." Doesn't much sound like he'd object to that, though, given how warm and content his next huff of laughter is.
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Anything else, well. He and Dev should probably chat about that someday. He remains oblivious regardless. Devero's interest in Koumyou was a fluke, that's all.
"One of those big ones like they put on cars in the magazines."
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"Hell yeah it'd take a biggun'." He yawns and shifts so his scarred cheek is leaning against Devero's forehead and his damn fin is safely out of anyone's way. This position is relatively comfortable.
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He peeks cross-eyed up at Yondu and smiles as the other man shifts in that much closer. He hasn't felt so comfortable in ages, and it's probably not going to take more than a moment or two of silence before he drifts off to sleep between the other two...
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Then her rests his hand on Dev's shoulder. Easy to snooze from there.