folkooc | July TFLN Time

I assure you I will be keeping them and their plight wholly in my thoughts.
For as much as I am currently able to have thoughts.

[Unrepentant.]

[Oh, he is well aware.]

Well? Are you going to get on with it and explain what sort of trouble you've gotten yourself into? If the suspense does not kill me (again), I am quite certain that the overwhelming sense of dread hanging low in the air like a stormcloud in summer will duly finish the job.

Some of us, after all, would like to get some rest tonight.

Someone's feeling spirited tonight!
Or perhaps that's just me :)

[Look he made a pun! He's hilarious.]

I'm afraid if you're expecting a thrilling tale of adventure with a satisfying ending you're going to be tragically disappointed.
I fell into a ditch in the dark and twisted my ankle.

Charitable, more like.
Though I may reconsider.

[For enduring such a horrendous pun with little more than an exasperated sigh and the beginnings of a migraine. Of course, there is no easy way for him to share those details in simple text. Nevertheless...]

And you are correct. I would have much preferred the former. A mere tale is something I could have appreciated from the comfort of my bed.

Where are you now? Do tell me you are not typing this from some furrow in the ground.

You'll be delighted to know I managed to extract myself from the ditch without any outside help.

However, my ankle does smart awfully, so unless you would be so kind as to rescue your dearest, most faithful friend from his current predicament I'm going to be out here for the rest of the night.

Lucky for you. I've heard many a poet describe a night spent beneath the stars as a profoundly cathartic and transformative experience.

I've no doubt your thoughts will return to you with frightening clarity in no time at all.

[Yet for all of Emet-Selch's grumbling and unkindness, Hythlodaeus did manage to get one thing right.]

[For as much as he suspects that his old new friend is in perfectly good health, it takes only the barest amount of focus for Emet-Selch to locate the distinct color of his soul and (with a great deal of sighing and fumbling about in the dark for his robes) step through the other end of an expertly summoned portal. ~~Memeing constraints be damned.~~]

Edited 2023-07-21 23:44 (UTC)

[Hythlodaeus does, at the very least, look as if he fell into a ditch as he had claimed. When Emet-Selch appears nearby he's sitting at the side of the road trying to squeeze dirty water out of his braid. He has one leg stretched out in front of him and is keeping it very still.

He looks up with a bright smile, as if he had no idea at all that his petulant complaints would actually prompt a reaction from the other man... (of course, he did, because he knows how to play Emet-Selch like a fiddle).]

Emet-Selch!

[Well, he sounds cheerful enough about his situation, at least.]

There you are. You didn't have to get yourself out of bed just for little old me.

[Emet-Selch is, in fact, a little surprised to see that there is a ditch involved after all. And that Hythlodaeus, apparently, has been playing in it. The mage clucks his tongue impatiently, his sharp gaze taking in his friend's predicament before at last he offers a dismissive shrug and closes the gap between them. Kneeling some fulms away, Hythlodaeus is offered an uncompromising view of his furrowed brow and none-too-pleased expression.]

Didn't I? And yet it would seem you were anticipating my arrival all the same.

[He gestures at his companion's leg, grumbling.]

Honestly! You are far too delighted for someone claiming to be injured. Let us be about it, then, so we may both return to our beds.

[Hythlodaeus reacts to the distance that Emet-Selch keeps between them with nothing more than an amused chuckle into one curled hand. Of course his dear friend could not pass over the opportunity to give him a good view of exactly what he thinks about this whole thing before he even attempts to render assistance.]

I'm always delighted to have your company, why should now be any different?

[Injury or no, when has he ever looked displeased to have Emet-Selch nearby even when the man is wearing his most sour expression? His nose crinkles as he smiles, though the discomfort he can feel is written plainly across his face as he maneouvers himself to stand up.

It's not easy when he can't put too much weight on one side.

And why would he outright ask Emet-Selch for help when it's far more fun to make him feel like he has to offer it?]

Though I do wish I was only claiming to be injured. This does hurt, you know.

I may be able to think of a few reasons.

[He can, of course, yet he suspects neither of them desires such a conversation. 'Twould sour the mood in an instant, and what's more, he would prefer to enjoy his friend's welcoming mirth for as long as it lasts. After all, few others would have reason to look forward to the company of the esteemed Emet-Selch, Ascian, and so-called agent of chaos.]

[With an exasperated sigh, he rises to his feet and closes the distance between them so that he might offer Hythlodaeus his arm for balance. Under normal circumstances he'd let Hythlodaeus navigate his swollen ankle on his own for at least a little while longer, yet the fact remains that Emet-Selch has little else to do with what borrowed time he's been afforded. Therefore he may as well make the most of it.]

But that is neither here nor there. How did you manage to get yourself into such a predicament in the first place? The falling part I can understand, yet I fail to see why you were taking a stroll through the dark in the first place.

Did you know they have excellent wine here?

[Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to, Emet-Selch. Hythlodaeus takes the offered arm and more besides, wrapping his arm around the other man's shoulders rather than simply holding on to him. He puffs out a soft sigh - relieved, mostly - as it takes the weight off his twisted ankle and gives him a moment of respite.]

Because they do, and I-- I may have had a little too much. There was a bard, and he kept filling my glass while we were talking.

[Looking up, he gives his friend a borderline apologetic smile. He's maybe a little sorry for the mess he's currently making of himself, but he also can't mind it too much. They're both on borrowed time here, after all, so why not make the most of it.]

I was on my way home, and then I fell and got wet. And now here we are.

Here you are.

[He corrects his friend as he renegotiates his balance. Hythlodaeus is expecting quite a lot of him by using his shoulders as a crutch, yet thankfully Emet-Selch's posture has made remarkable improvement since his untimely defeat. He makes a point not to slouch.]

And no, I was not aware. How gracious you are for apprising me of the local wine quality, yet failing to bring so much as a thimbleful back with you. ...though I would also hate to imagine its cruel demise at the whims of yonder irrigation trough.

[But enough of that. There will be time enough to scold Hythlodaeus later, preferably when he is entirely sober. More seriously, he asks:]

Shall I return you to your residence? You will, of course, wish to avoid any reckless activities until you are able to have it properly tended to.

[Here he is, indeed! But he laughs and shakes his head and says something that sounds like 'oh, don't be like that' almost under his breath as he straightens himself up with the other man's support.]

I'll remember to pick up an extra bottle for you the next time. [How dare he have the audacity to go out drinking without Emet-Selch, after all, and then drag him out of the house to pick him up out of a ditch?

Hythlodaeus lets out a sing-song little hum and tilts his head back to look at the sky.]

And yes, I think that would be best. [A beat, then he adds, with a wry little smile.] I'm not so intoxicated that I won't remember this in the morning, so try to be gentle with me when you scold me, won't you?

Bring two.

[It's not an order, not exactly - yet still a little more firm than a mere suggestion. Surely he doesn't expect Emet-Selch to delve into the intricacies of this latest local vintage all by his lonesome?]

[His eyes follow Hythlodaeus's gaze up to the line of stars, bright and optimistic against the dark curtain of the night sky. This could be a truly pleasant outing, he thinks, if the circumstances were just a bit more favorable. And if he wasn't wearing Hythlodaeus like a piece of jewelry about his neck. He sighs softly, less put-upon than before, his voice settling into something more conversational.]

And why should I be? If you are confident in your ability to remember, I ought to scold you soundly so you won't repeat the same mistake again. Honestly, Hythlodaeus. I am beginning to wonder how you ever managed to get along without me here to come to your aid.

Edited 2023-08-07 16:23 (UTC)

[He would never expect such a thing and would in fact be rather put out if he found out that Emet-Selch had been drinking like that without him. Whatever Emet-Selch might think, Hythlodaeus is having a great time. Isn't every moment he spends with this man a great time, after all?

Besides, he knows he can't stay annoyed with him forever. He always gets worn down eventually.]

Oh, with some difficulty. [His voice is slightly sing-song as he replies, and still verging on obnoxiously cheerful despite the pain in his ankle.] I do have other friends here, but none of them were ever anything like you.

[Hythlodaeus squeezes his hand against Emet-Selch's shoulder.]

Not even close.

[While it should not matter, and while he's more than familiar enough with Hythlodaeus's manner of turning a phrase, the reply still manages to stir up something cumbersome and secret within his chest. ...well, inasmuch as a boulder can be stirred - which is more of a vibration, truly. A low hum swallowed up once more by the depths.]

Yes, well, mayhap next time you might call upon one of them to help you in my stead.

[For now, however, he thinks it best they get Hythlodaeus off his ankle before his good cheer turns entirely false. With a snap of his fingers, Emet-Selch sees them relocated to the cozy interior of Hythlodaeus's cabin. His directional sense proves as purposeful as ever, and his friend will likely realize soon enough that all he need do is let go and sit to find himself sinking onto the plush comforter folded neatly across his bed.]

There was no need for you to wait for me to arrive on the scene.

Mmm, why would I call them when I have you?

[Why indeed, and of course there's an implication behind Hythlodaeus' words that he chooses not to elaborate on without prompting. The teleporting, inebriated as he is, makes him stumble slightly as they 'land' and he drops down onto his bed with a comfortable little 'oof'.]

Ah, my hero.

[Hehe.

He smooths his hands against the soft comforter and smiles, then flops backwards and sticks his uninjured leg out.]

Be a darling and help me get my shoes off?

[Does he know he's pushing his luck right now? Absolutely, and he's definitely doing it on purpose, curious as to the lengths Emet-Selch will actually go to at the moment in order to indulge him.]

[An implication not entirely lost on him, perhaps, but one which Emet-Selch chooses not to pursue. If he's well enough to giggle and make mischief, his injury cannot be too severe, after all.]

Why would you not? There are more than enough good deeds to go around.

[He gazes down at Hythlodaeus with a look of (mock) disdain, his eyes sweeping over him once more before he crosses his arms over his chest in a gesture that should make clear he is in no mood for nonsense.]

[His other leg. Emet-Selch hardly misses this all-important detail, and though the audacity of the man is endearing, he makes no indication that he has any desire whatsoever to play into Hythlodaeus's whims. Far from it, in fact. He is loyal, yes, but he is no pushover.]

And I seem to recall that your ankle is only twisted. You mentioned nothing at all about your fingers failing you, nor your other leg - which you were hobbling about on just fine mere moments ago I might add. Remove them yourself. I'll bring you ice for your injury. And perhaps some toast if I'm feeling charitable enough.

[And some water lest his friend dehydrate.]

Edited 2023-08-21 19:58 (UTC)

Oh, you're so mean.

[He clutches one hand to his chest dramatically (and yes, he knows full well he's being dramatic) and then pushes himself up onto his elbows, lowering his foot back to the floor. The expression on his face can only be described as plaintive, his lower lip stuck out in a tiny pout.]

All right, all right.

[The one that doesn't hurt first, then. He kicks his boot off across the carpet and then turns his attention to the other, making a face as he works the zip down and his entire lower leg seems to throb.

Ouch.]

I'll... take that ice, if you'd be so kind. [Look at that pleading face.] And the toast?

Am I, now? Truth be told I much prefer to use the words callous and despicable.

[And here he is the one so often accused of being a drama queen! He averts his eyes from the plaintive, forlorn expression upon his friend's face, determined not to allow himself to feel guilt over something he had no hand in causing. Emet-Selch leaves him to go about his own task - which is helping a dear friend, of course.]

Yes, yes, I hear you. I trust you will not be moving from that location until I am finished.

[And he won't take long. The oven itself is simplistic in its design, and he sets it to heat with relative ease. Using the interim to gather together some ice from the ice box into a shallow bowl, he makes his way back over to his pitiable charge with a towel draped over one shoulder.]

I trust you can take it from here whilst I prepare your meal.

[He really is quite cruel, isn't he? But at least he is efficient.]

You can trust me with both of those things.

[He waves one hand in Emet-Selch's direction as he goes about trying to figure out how to take his boot off without it hurting too much. Ah, the price he must pay for the clothes he chooses to wear... this would never have happened in the hupodema he wore back home.

Something he's sure Emet-Selch knows he's very aware of... and he's a little grateful that it isn't being pointed out.

While his friend is so kindly preparing some toast for him he does manage to work his way out of the boot and tosses it unceremoniously to one side once he does. Freed, his ankle is positively throbbing, and he scoots himself back on the bed so he can get some ice on it without having to lean forwards.

When Emet-Selch returns to him he'll find Hythlodaeus barefoot with his knee bent, ice in the towel pressed to his swollen ankle, with his chin resting on his knee and eyes closed with his brow pinched in a faint frown.]

Gently, now-- [He murmurs when he hears the other man.] The room is spinning.

[A defeated sigh follows Emet-Selch's footsteps and at last the man relents, setting the plate of toast down on a nearby table as he sinks onto the mattress next to him. The motion will unlikely help with the dizzy sensation, but at least Hythlodaeus will find an arm wrapping around his back to hold him steady.]

The only thing spinning is that beautiful head of yours.

[He says it as if he's filing a personal complaint against the Bureau of the Architect rather than delivering a compliment.]

Give it here. The last thing we need is for you to faint away on an empty stomach.

[Ah... that's quite nice, actually. The warm arm around his back and the feeling of something solid in the middle of the quite miserable way that his head is swirling in dizzy circles now he's trying to settle himself. He leans into it, just a bit, and moves his hand away from his ankle to let Emet-Selch see to it.]

Thank you.

[A far more genuine - and quieter - thanks than he might have got had he acquiesced to his earlier demands. Hythlodaeus puts his arm around Emet-Selch as well, gripping lightly into his clothes, partly aware that this will do nothing to assist their situation but finding it a comfort regardless.]

I could stand to hear you call me beautiful more often. [The statement is followed by a mild chuckle.] Though perhaps not in such a tone as to suggest that the fact offends you.

[The ankle doesn't look amazing. But then again, he's seen far, far worse in his time on the battlefields of Ilsabard. The towel with the ice is gently pried from Hythlodaeus's fingers, and he returns it to its place against the angry, swollen skin.]

[He says little about their current position, nor about the way Hythlodaeus's grip curls into the folds of his robes. It's quite warm, however, and pleasant despite the circumstances. Too long has it been since he last sat side by side with someone he considered a companion; a friend.]

And what if it does? Besides, if I said such things all the time, would they not lose their impact?

Stay still until the room stops turning. Then, we'll see to the toast.

[It could be a lot worse and Hythlodaeus may be milking it a little, but he's also very much enjoying having Emet-Selch's undivided attention and how gentle he's being right now. He shifts, resting his head on his friend's shoulder and tucking himself there, determined not to say anything about their current position either because it might ruin it if he points it out.]

Yes, all right.

[That reply could really have been to one or the other, or both, and he sighs as the cold of the ice sinks into his ankle and numbs away the dull throbbing.]

This is nice. All unfortunate results of my hubris aside. [He hums, nudging the top of his head against Emet-Selch's jaw.] Don't you think?

July TFLN Time

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a terrible gremlin man

the absolute worst - yet regarded favorably despite such tendencies

well he is a most devoted and attentive friend!!

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