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sticksandbones2023-05-02 05:07 pm
MINI EVENT: SORE LOSER
Content Warning: Lightning strikes, electrocution. In the first half of the mini event, characters will be under siege by targeted lightning strikes until they attain shelter within the store or inn. Lightning strikes are nonlethal, but painful.
!VICTORY!
... But not without cost. As the handful of you scatter through the arena, tagging out prisoners or holding your ground against the jailer, some may notice the increasing pain inflicted by an unknown source the better the group does. Eventually, as time runs out, there's a frustrated screech echoing through the air and reverberating in your mind:
Needless to say, trouble's coming. (Though, what had the Woods expected when the game was so easy? Perhaps it didn't realize how many proficient fighters it had captured.) The air is electric, crackling, before the night sky darkens considerably. There's lightning flashing- and then lightning coming down. All throughout the way home and even into the Grove, lightning strikes with loud cracks and sparks, almost like spears hurtling down with a vengeance.
The strikes, should they land, are nonlethal. But it hurts a lot- and leaves a terribly numbing sensation behind. There's enough time between strikes that you can flee, and both the general store and the inn offer salvation. Rusty stands within the doorway of the inn itself, snarling angrily at the sky, while the shopkeeper... is actually among you, carrying Caoimhe so she can avoid the forest's embrace. Now's not a great time to chat though, honestly.
Better run.
!AFTERMATH
Hey, you got home safe! Good for you. As the last of you claims shelter, the lightning storm outside devolves into a pure thunderstorm. Rusty has joined you for shelter. Though your body is heavy and numb, there's a feeling that you still have something to do. Thankfully, a few in your number are medics, and another few can cook. Any punishments for playing too well as an individual also linger, much to your dismay. But the first night is over.
Despite the tantrum, the Woods is making do on it's promise, at least: Within every inhabited inn room is a charm made from animal bone or antler. Those who can detect magic will be able to tell: these are lucky charms, and powerful ones at that. But they can only be used once. These charms will allow one instance of changing an undesirable outcome in an event. They can only be used once, and only one character can use one per thread or mission.
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[Yeah, and that's definitely because of the fever he previously had, and also the biological link between Elsword's forest parasite and Add's theoretical infection, and not because Add is out here having a crisis. That would never happen. Addward Dimitri "Ted" Kim is extremely composed at all times.
Anyway, Elsword is pushing Add down into bed by the shoulders, don't think about that too hard.]
Let me get you some cold water. Stay there. I'll be fine until you feel better.
[Does the fact that Elsword wears open-backed shirts make this better or worse for you, Add? Either way, he'll be back in a few minutes with a glass of ice water, and holding a cold cloth. No, he's not leaving his friend alone now, friends don't abandon friends when they're sick and dying.]
Here. I can take care of you, for once.
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One brave Dynamo accompanies Elsword to the kitchen, though, sticking to his side like a dutiful observer should. It'll even offer to help carry things! Please appreciate them for trying their best in these difficult times.
Add still isn't making eye contact when Elsword returns, having spent their little break pouring over his data a second (third?) time. He's making a detailed graph comparing his body temperature to time passed since the incident in the forest. Alas, that includes the moment where Elsword carried him back to the inn. The evidence keeps piling up...
but for now, he can't let Elsword think something could be seriously wrong with him. Add forces on his winning smile, trying to maneuver Dynamo to take the cloth and water.]
Thank you, but I should be fine on my own! I just need a little more rest, that's all. Your condition, on the other hand... I'll need to come up with a treatment before it develops further, so please tell me anything that happens from now on, okay?
I can work from bed, so there's no need to worry about me. Dynamo can fetch whatever I need. [dynamo is still struggling to stay airborne, ignore the flashing overheat warnings he keeps shoving to the back of his screen]
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Either way, Elsword isn't allowing Dynamo to have the cloth. He keeps it tightly gripped in his hand, so there's a zero chance of getting it from him without extreme measures, and his free hand pushes aside the holoscreens.]
Add. [Now it's Add's turn to be in trouble.] You're always working, and now you're sick. You don't get to say "I need rest" in the same breath as "I can work from bed".
[Elsword is Not taking no for an answer, and sits down on the edge of Add's bed. Immediately, he dabs the doctor's forehead with the cold cloth, keeping a hand on his shoulder in case he tries to jerk away.]
Why don't you ever take breaks?
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Add flinches, but doesn't put up a resistance. So far, he's still not detecting any spores or airborne infectants, nor any change in Elsword's parasite... so, this much contact shouldn't be a problem, right? This is just another step of the experiment. He lets out a soft chuckle, pulling one of his screens closer again.]
A doctor's work never ends. If I take a break, who will take care of everyone's health? You can't always rely on magic to solve things for you.
Besides, this is the life I chose for myself. If the workload bothered me, I would've pursued something else, don't you think? [like, i dont know, VR or cybernetics or time travel]
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[His disgruntled gaze is likely worsened by his usually-flat expression, red eyes set into a stone-cold stare at Add's face. Throughout every emotion he's ever had unwinding like a spool of thread, lost to the aether, he's never quite declined in his ability to care. It's the only thing holding him together, making him himself.
At the same time, Elsword being Elsword means that childish acts are well within his means still, and he will physically sit on Add like Leon had done earlier if the man refuses to rest. Try working when there's 150 pounds of 100% Elrian Beef on you.
(The lion himself, meanwhile, is rolled onto his back on the floor bapping at Karte with his big paws.)]
...we used to take little breaks on the road. [He says softly, expression shifting into an idle look of reminiscence.] I don't remember a lot of them, but I remember... in Sander, we were camping out, and you kept complaining about the sand getting in your hair and shoes. You weren't doing doctor things then.
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[Whatever counterargument he had prepared is thrown off, because Elsword isn't the type to reminisce. He steals a glance, violet meeting red. What does it mean, to remember something like that now, of all times?
Ah, he should add this to Elsword's personal file...]
... that's different. Anyway, it's a problem if sand gets into my equipment. Contaminated medicine is no good, it could get into wounds and cause an infection.
[but it's a little embarrassing to think about. He was still pretty careful back then, but every now and then... he wasn't used to traveling with others, so he let himself slip up too often. It's an error he'd prefer to be forgotten, if possible. He's supposed to be kind, selfless, endlessly patient—not the type of person who complains about sand in his shoes.]
If I'd been more thorough the first time, you wouldn't still be infested. This is hardly a time for me to be resting... I appreciate your concern, but I can't compromise any further on this. As a doctor, the health of my patients has to come first.
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[It's a declaration he makes easily, bluntly, like he's talking about the weather. Something so obvious to Elsword despite the hardship, the struggle to get to where they are, and then showing up here — just the two of them and their goofy animals lazing about on the floor. His hand moves, now to dab the cold cloth on Add's shoulder, unbothered by the feverish tinge to his skin, the accumulation of sweat.]
It's the forest's fault that this happened, not yours. If anything, I should have been more careful. I was the one who rushed in without thinking.
[It's typical of him. No thoughts, all action.]
If you're not gonna rest, then fine, maybe I can't stop you. But at least let me get your hair off of your back. It's probably not helping the fever, right?
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He shivers at the cold touch, averting his gaze again. The holoscreen is more a distraction, something to keep his eyes occupied so he's not staring back at Elsword. All this talk is putting another knot in his chest... is it his fever again, or is this from embarrassment? Shame? No matter what Elsword says, Add knows the truth of the situation. He had his chance to act, but he chose too much caution. Now Elsword has to pay the price.
Add sighs, reaching an arm back to pull his hair forward. There are still a few knots and sticks caught in there, and he needs to find a new hair tie...]
Shifting blame won't change the results. We need to focus on what happens next—and for you, that means dealing with the parasite as soon as possible.
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[He's not dealing with it. He's ignoring it and hoping he can just shrug it off like any other injury he gets. It's a concerning thing, that parasite; so is everything else in Elsword's life. Right now, his concern is Add.
He scoots forward, more into Add's space now. The cloth gets swapped to the opposite shoulder and left there to do as Add pleases, and Elsword's scarred fingers start to work, weaving through the white strands with delicate precision. He's done this a million times before, pulled sticks out of hair and worked his way through little knots with his fingers. To his sister, to Aisha, to Rena...
But he did say he was going to help get Add's hair off of his back, where it's likely trapping all that extra heat, thick as it is. When he's done removing the entire forest from it, he starts braiding it up. This, at least, will hold without a hair tie. Probably.]
You should drink your water, [he suggests, still hard at work,] I can get you more when I'm done.
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[You know, the other guy with a plant in his arm... actually, he'd probably have some good tips for something like this. Where's an undead plant-cyborg when you need him?]
I'll deal with it, so behave yourself until I'm done with my treatment plan. Something that can neutralize the parasite long enough for it to be fully extracted... I have a few ideas, but it might be risky. Would be easier with a lab rat...
[mumble mumble don't worry about it
anyway, all of this is a fine excuse to not think too hard about Elsword's fingers in his hair. Not that he should be. It's no different from Dynamo helping him detangle, which is perfectly normal and uninteresting, so this behavior should have no effect on him... yes, in fact, he should ask for Elsword's help more often. Especially at times like this when Dynamo is low on energy. He's just being practical. Elsword can do whatever he wants with Add's hair right now.]
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If Add won't stop him, then Elsword is putting his hair in a full braid. It's not too tight, so not to pull on his scalp, nor is it loose enough to come undone immediately. Add's hair is nice, he thinks; soft and silky against his calloused hands. When he's finished, the knight runs his fingers across the new braid, satisfied, and hums as he places it over Add's shoulder.]
Yes, sir... [It's nearly impossible to get Add to relent on anything anyway, but Elsword often wishes he would. Just one break. One glass of water in the hell-forest, one good night of sleep.] ...but you can come up with ideas while you sleep.
[:)]
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He lets out another tiny, wistful sigh, his hand brushing against the knight's when he reaches up to touch the braid himself. Much better, yes.]
Mm... that would be highly inefficient. I can't work in my sleep. [he's not Noah...] Also, every moment you insist on this is a moment I'm being distracted from my treatment plan. At this rate I won't get any sleep at all. I'll be up working on this all night.
[unstoppable force vs immovable object... just ignore the fact that Add is guaranteed to pass out before Elsword, that's not important, please surrender he is invincible]
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[It's the tiniest laugh. It would've been more boisterous a year, two years ago... but it's something, at least. He hasn't entirely forgotten how to laugh, even if the sound is halfway foreign to him now.
Their hands brush together, and Elsword pauses against it on instinct. He blinks, and then slowly flips the position of their hands, fingertips dragging along Add's palm and up to the doctor's own fingers, where Elsword gives them something of a squeeze. They're not holding hands, but they're not not doing that, either.]
I'll sit quietly and let you get back to it, then. Unless you want me to leave?
[Elsword doesn't want to leave, not really, but it's up to Add. Technically, the bed is big enough for two, but Add might also sweat to death.]
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well. he's not pulling out of it, so it's... fine? This is fine. Cool.
He quietly tries to clear his throat, and if he so happens to flex his fingers a little in a way that could, unintentionally, be interpreted as returning the gesture, that is purely by coincidence. His eyes stay locked on the holoscreen.]
You can stay, if you want to. It would make it easier if you're available for me to perform additional testing on.
[like... getting him to flex his arms again, maybe...
hmm.]
... thorough testing produces better results, so for that reason... Elsword, please remove your clothing and repeat the experiment one more time.
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All of it? Or just my shirt?
[You want him to be dick-out in front of the forest? On God??
Elsword relinquishes Add's hand back to him and stands. Repeat the experiment he will, say goodbye to
your last bastion of sanitythe shirt. It's being pulled over his head and left haphazardly on the back of the chair he was using some minutes earlier. If Add needs him to remove anything else, he's going to have to be clear, because Elsword is assuming that the root of the problem is his upper body and not his legs or anything else nearby.Add is the group doctor, so the state of Elsword's upper body — the scars, both thin and thick, long and short, across his torso — probably isn't all too unfamiliar. It's clear that, since the last time he underwent treatment, some new scars have formed; fractal scars from that lightning he got struck by are clustered around the left side of his body, fading out just underneath his ribs and before his elbow. Like earlier in the "experiment", Elsword stands straight and draws his arms over his head first, then swings his arms in front to do a loose shoulder-stretch.]
It still doesn't hurt. [Thankfully.] Is Dynamo picking anything up?
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Elsword's back is a familiar canvas to him, for sure, and he makes quick note of the new additions to the scar map. Some of the older ones have faded nicely, but these newer ones... ugh, it's going to be annoying work. Especially when no one else seems as bothered about these things as Add is, but as far as he's concerned, if it can be fixed then ignoring it is shoddy work. Even on someone like Elsword, who collects new scars like grass stains on a soccer uniform.
But this is a different kind of physical assessment. And even with so many scars covering him... it's not what he'd call ugly. Not on Elsword, at least. Watching how his muscles move under the skin, shifting each mark and imperfection around like a mechanical art piece, each one a story of its own brimming with blood and glory... stories Add can remember clearly, even if the memory has faded els-where. The striking red emblem engraved between his shoulder blades, the way the light catches strangely on its surface sometimes. His eyes are drawn in by the flickers of movement, but it's the muscles that truly demand his attention—in terms of physical prowess, Elsword is undeniably a peak specimen. The balance of proper training, manaflow, diet, and just a dash of that fascinating other-ness from deep within the El, how could an ordinary human like Add even come close to achieving such physical perfection? His fingers twitch, a burning desire bubbling up from deep within his chest. He wants to slice it open and stick his hands inside, blood slick on his bare skin, between his fingers, pull it all apart and put it back together—
fuck. goddamn.
Add fumbles for the cloth, wiping sweat off his forehead.] Something's certainly picking up...
[h
his temperature.]
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The fumbling does not go unnoticed. Elsword assumes it has more to do with the fever than any alleged crisis of sexuality on Add's part. Wanting to cut a man open and let his blood ooze down your fingertips, to your wrists, and to the floor is definitely that. Still...]
Wait, really? ...you look bothered. Is it that bad?
[For what it's worth, Elsword is not entirely stupid. Oblivious, yes, but he's not blind to Add's tense posture, nor the troubled expression on his features. For all Add's ability to suppress his reactions to various stimuli, including — apparently — Elsword's back, Elsword possesses the equally-uncanny ability to read him.
Mostly.
Yet he's not onto Add, merely has awareness of when something eats at him. Add does not wear his heart on his sleeve; Elsword has a good-enough grasp on his companion anyway to get a general sense of what he's thinking. There's a certain irony in it, surely.
He dares to pivot on his heel to get a better look. Red cheeks, sweating, pupils dilated... Yep. Elsword must be dying terribly. Why else would Add be unsettled?]
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Add turns away, head spinning with vile thoughts. With one flick of his hand he summons a dozen unnecessary holoscreens to hide his face behind, catching his breath somewhere between a bestiary of Demon Realm flora and a detailed blueprint of Nasod Inspector. The one screen of Add's physical data is, mysteriously, now absent completely.]
Fever. It's just the fever. [enough of a fever to make Add, of all people, completely lose his cool... he straightens himself back up, shoving all those thoughts to the back of his skull. You're better than this, stay in control, stay calm...]
You're fine, Elsword. There are no unusual readings. I... apologize for causing any undue worry.
[please ignore how he is still hiding behind a ridiculous amount of screens, seriously, one of those is a restaurant menu from Hamel that isn't even close to relevant right now]
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It's too bad a 15 is not a high enough roll with Elsword's -3 obliviousness modifier to really catch on, but something is suspicious in the sudden panic. The Add he knows rarely spooks so severely that he brings up restaurant menus and irrelevant blueprints. While Elsword can kind of understand the Demon Realm flora guide — the parasite from the forest might be similar to something there — he can't wrap his head around the logic of suddenly whipping out a restaurant they went to when they were first passing through Hamel.
Interesting.
Content with the fact that nothing has worsened in the last fifteen minutes, Elsword leans forward and taps a finger against the menu in specific.]
Are you ordering us dinner?
[Bereft of emotions is he, but not so much that he can't be a little shit where it counts.]
Is that my reward for helping with he experiment?
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Add snorts, the absurdity of this situation making it a touch easier to cope. Finally regaining enough composure to show his face, if not make eye contact... he slides the rest of the screens aside, leaving only the menu. He scrolls down the list of increasingly fancy pizzas.]
I'm afraid we might be outside of their delivery range.
Sorry, my hand slipped. Ah, I really should reorganize some of these files. [you know, when your hand slips and the telepathic robots under your command open up a bunch of random junk? a classic problem.]
As for a reward... normally, you would pay a large sum of money to receive such a detailed physical assessment and treatment plan. For your exemplary behavior, I'll gladly waive that fee for you.
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Wait, [wait what's that about a fee—] you mean if I wasn't obedient, that I'd owe you money?
[Add! That's not fair!! He's your friend!!!]
What forest debt collector were you going to send after me if I couldn't pay?
[Don't look now — Elsword is tucking his arms back behind his head in a casual resting pose, but the shirt is still off and the guns are still out. Godspeed.]
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[He smirks, arms half-folded with one hand to his chin. Add is now trying to make eye contact, but unfortunately, the gun show just opened for business... forgive him if his eyes stray down a little. Stay professional, Add. You can do this. You're in control...]
Lucky for you, I also accept services as payment. Physical labor at your output level is hard to come by. I'm sure I'll find some use for all that stamina.
[... is that Add's medical diagram, minimized to marshmallow-scale by his knee? maybe. possibly.]
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Yeah? And what kind of physical labour would you want? You'd definitely enjoy running me into the ground, huh.
[ < /flirting > ]
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He laughs instead, a nervous chuckle that's a little too squeaky for his tastes. A terribly poor smokescreen to his current state. Might be feeling just... a little dizzy, probably because he's been stewing in his thoughts while magically overheated instead of like. drinking that glass of water that's been sitting there this whole time. He glances at it, pausing for just long enough for Elsword to think he might take it, then goes back to dabbing his forehead with the cloth instead.]
I said I'd waive it, didn't I? We can discuss payment plans when it becomes a necessity. For now, I'm fine without our current arrangement.
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More importantly (?), Elsword is sitting back on the edge of the bed now. His shirt remains off, because—]
"Our current arrangement" being me with my shirt off?
[Fascinating developments here, truly.]
Okay, sure. I can sit here all night half-undressed if you really want.
[There's that old arrogance of his, showing up when he's got .5 functioning emotions left. At least he means it?]
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