sticksandbones | MINI EVENT: GARDEN OF EVIL

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MINI EVENT: GARDEN OF EVIL

GARDENING

Content Warning: Carnivorous plants in a very unconventional way, horror hunger, attempted violence towards animals

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EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORNS

You've done well to avoid the flowers, haven't you? Though some hapless victims here and there may have nearly fallen to it, but even they've been rescued and taken to safety. And the flowers can't approach the General Store, the Trader's stalls, the inn or the house Elsword has built- something prevents the forest from creeping into it ever so softly, so of course it's minions couldn't either. But they're so hungry.

Starvation tears at the flowers like claws, and what should help them- the water and sunshine- burns like ice. The only thing that satisfies is flesh and blood and bone and they're hungry. And they've had enough of being told no.

As everyone goes about their day, the flowers still. They do not reach for and try to grab anyone, and for a moment all seems well. Up until Rusty begins snarling in a way uncharacteristic of him, trying to tear the nearest one out of the earth with his teeth. He is immediately ensnared in vines and leaves, with the full intent of tearing the old dog apart. The flowers shake and there's an odd hum in the air before they all seem to turn, looking at the denizens of the nest as if they had eyes. You will not look away. You can't look away. They are everywhere. On the ground, crawling up the walls of the fence, growing larger to block off the routes to safety, and always shifting to be in your line of sight. Look at them. Look at them.

Look at them.

The madness won't creep in slowly- as they force themselves into your vision, already you can see vines creeping at the edge of your vision, tearing into flesh that isn't there. Ravenous maws biting into the people around you and not letting go. Blood and sap pouring out like ichor. Blink once, blink twice, and it shakes away to reveal the truth but if you aren't careful the visions set in again. Misfortune radiates off of the flowers in waves, tripping you up and interfering with your aim and casting. Get ready, because the flowers aren't going away without some blood.

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[Ordinarily, Elsword might protest this. It's an outward burst of magic before it's a bubble that protects, and putting it on Add might be more trouble than it's worth. Ordinarily, but these are dire straits, and so Elsword purses his lips and gives an "mmhmm" of affirmation. He's not sure if Add hears it or not, but it'll become abundant he got the memo in a moment, when that golden magic of his blooms in his palm and spreads outward in a patterned, swirling orb. What damage it causes is minimal, to Add himself and the vines wrapping around him.

They have a short while until Detention detonates and sucks everything nearby into it in something of a black hole, but Elsword thinks he can hold onto this spell for long enough to give them a break. Thinks being the operative term, as everything caught within it slows to a crawl other than the two of them.

He's exhausted. He feels nauseous, in that way getting heavily injured always makes someone feel nauseous. He feels sticky with sweat and blood and plant grime. He thinks he wants to hug Add and never let him go. It's a lot all at once, for someone who normally struggles to just exist.

Elsword squeezes his eyes shut and sits down on the ground, kicking away a root within his reach. His sword sits embedded in the soil, and he turns his attention to Add, blindly trying to feel for him.]

I don't know how long I can maintain it, [he murmurs, as a warning,] but we can make a break for the inn if we need to. They can't get in there.

[The burning light washes over him, swirling into an orb that thrums with pure El. If he had PCA, he would've been completely fine. Without it... he's taken worse hits, but for that brief moment it's like jumping through a fire. He holds back a hiss, focusing all his attention on the task of freeing himself.

The flowers are slowed and hindered within the golden sphere. In a unconventional way, he's protected—they can't close in around him without being slowed further by Detention's power. Add kicks his feet, fighting the last stubborn vines that still twist around his leg, dragging himself through the dirt... with mixed results. The vines are too slow to drag him back, but they're still strong. He can't break their hold.

Even from his position, he can hear more vines slithering about... Elsword can maintain the sphere as long as he wants, but they'll regroup if they wait too long. No, it's better if they let the sphere collapse, drag the ensnared vines back... if he can just make it a little further out...

Add reaches forward again, but this time time his hand grasps something metal and pointed—he digs in his fingers, entwining them with the knight's, only wincing a little bit when one of those stupid claws jabs into a joint.]

Pull me out, quickly!

[He'll say sorry for stabbing your hand with his claws later, Add. There are more important things happening, like Elsword not only pulling Add out of Detention before it detonates, but also scooping him up off the ground in a half-assed bridal carry. In retrospect, doing this with a bad arm? Not a great idea, very painful, but Elsword sucks in a breath through his teeth and swiftly readjusts how he's holding Add — tightly around the waist with his good arm so that they're just about hip-to-hip — and reaches for his sword a scant few seconds before Detention collapses in on itself. Everything in the immediate area that isn't the two of them is sucked in, sharp vines whipping about as several of the plantlike "heads" get crushed in their wake.

Elsword doesn't waste time standing there to watch, unfurling Sephira's wings and taking off before he has a second to orient himself. He'd said the inn was safe, that the plants can't get into the inn, or, hell, any other building here — but Elsword is flying blind, letting instinct take them to the nearest safe haven within muscle memory. It's not the inn they're headed to, but opposite that — his house, with its clawmarks on the doorframe and the creaky wooden porch, immaculate otherwise as if the carnage isn't happening at all. He lands just outside said squeaky porch due to the awning covering the deck, quick to bolt inside and slam the door behind both of them.

Then, finally, everything is still. Silent. Add gets set down, and Elsword finds he can use his eyes again without seeing horrors beyond comprehension swimming in them. Everything hurts. His head is pounding — until today, he didn't know he could get migraines — and it's not until his butt hits the hardwood floors that he realises he's slid down against the wall to sit.

If he weren't so badly injured right now, he'd be heading back into the Grove to help the others... but he simply has to hope that a tactical retreat is on the table for anyone else fighting out there. It's the one time that Elsword has any self-preservation instincts, no doubt because Add is here to yank him back by his ear if he even so much as tries to leave.

Elsword rolls his head back and lets it thunk lightly against the wall.]

Hah... you okay?

[are you???]

[He's being pulled from both ends, thorns digging into skin through the thick padding of his pants—but a wet snap decides the victor. Add is finally dragged out of the bramble, just as the sphere collapses in on the losing party. The flowers hum with anger, writhing and lashing in their last moments.

... it's the end of one battle, but it's far from over. Best not to linger in enemy territory.

For once Add doesn't complain about being carried like a damsel. He lets himself be whisked up and away, clinging to Elsword's armor with his face buried against his chest. Dynamo is still down there... he sends he mental command to regroup, but he still can't tell if anything is getting through. Too much interference—he makes a note to search for them later. They should be okay on their own... he, on the other hand, puts his faith in Elsword, wind whipping past them as they fly away to somewhere safe.

After they land, after the door slams shut behind them, after he stumbles back onto to shaky legs and against the wall, sliding down onto his knees, the house eerily quiet compared to the chaos outside... only then does Add finally open his eyes (eye, singular) and take in the situation.

Silently, he lifts a hand up to his bandage... the cloth feels rough, loosened and torn, but it's more intact than he'd feared.]

I'm fine. [The response is automatic, because he's always fine. He's barely even acknowledged his own bleeding cuts and scrapes, the scratches all along his neck, wounds anywhere the thorns could find purchase. One of his gloves has been shredded, soaked in too much blood to properly assess. His attention is already elsewhere—he looks over at Elsword, frowning deeply.] You're bleeding everywhere... you shouldn't move. Stay right there.

[He digs into his pouch with shaky hands, searching for another dose of Cure... the vial rattles quietly against the metal on his gloves. He's getting blood everywhere. Ugh, focus, this is no time to be sloppy—]

[Yep, he expected that response, but unlike last time, Elsword doesn't refute it. If Add has the energy to claim he's fine, that's a good thing, somehow. It at least means he's not dead on the ground like the hallucinations wanted him to think.

He closes his eyes and cants his head to the side. When he opens it, it's to the rattling of the Cure vial, the soft din of Add's gloves clacking against the surface of glass.]

Yeah. Sorry... I got carried away.

[As he always does. Would it truly be Elsword if he weren't launching himself into the deadly thing? A hoard of demons in Velder, the literal actual honest-to-goddess El, carnivorous plants...

As Add works, he'll have a front-row view to the state of Elsword's parasited arm, gouges where he'd tried to rip the infection out in his own madness and blooms along the surface of his skin, pristine and white despite everything.]

...I'm glad you're okay. [His eyes shut again. He takes a deep breath as the adrenaline wears off; if his normal infected arm's pain-scale is a "two" for him, right now everything's at a solid eight, which is probably enough pain to kill a normal person.] I missed you.

[Elsword's adrenaline is wearing off, but Add has no such mercy. This part is supposed to be his responsibility. Checking for wounds, infections, patching everyone up, ensuring that it's truly safe to relax... his hands won't stop shaking, and he knows that's going to be a problem. He can't administer medicine like this. He stares down at the clean needle in his hand that rattles just as loudly, struggling to get the tip into the vial.]

Come on. [he hisses at himself, biting back a curse. He's getting nowhere... he has to calm down. He forces himself to breathe deeper, head down, resting the glass tube carefully against the floor.

... pausing to catch his breath, it's really not as helpful as he would've liked. Now, he's looking over at Elsword again, noticing the veins, the blooming sprouts, bloody stains on his hands with matching gouges in the arm... he's been trying, he's trying, why does it keep getting so much worse? Should he be letting Elsword rest like that? Does he have to operate immediately, or will that make it worse? He's supposed to be the expert but he doesn't know what he should do anymore

He clamps his eye shut again, leaning further and further towards the floor until he's sure his face is hidden. He feels dizzy... he can't do this right now, why can't he ever get it right when it matters? Elsword is depending on him to fix this. Why can't he just get it right—

the needle cracks (when did he start applying pressure?) and he jerks his hand away. his own voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, a pathetically strained whine that he's quick to suppress.]

Shit, I— I'm sorry, I have another one. Just give me another minute— [he fumbles into his pouch again while his composure disintegrates in real time, hey u ever wondered how bad it would be if you built your whole personality around shouldering everyone's burdens and then bottling all your emotions and throwing them in a fire for five years straight]

Add.

[Elsword says his name on an exhale, softly, slowly, like they aren't pressed for time, like nothing awful is happening outside these walls. He can tell, just from the sound of Add's voice and the barely-restrained whimper, that he's upset. Rightfully so, but it's not a good thing.

He cracks his eyes open, tracks his gaze to where Add is on the floor, and scoots closer. And closer. And closer... until they're knee-to-knee, and Elsword is lying down next to him. No care for the floors, he can clean these up when everything is alright again. Sometimes he wonders if it ever will be.]

Stop, [he requests gently,] you're not the only one who can heal. Let me take care of you.

[It really is all Elsword wants, all he asks of Add. "Let me do it. Let me take the burdens that are weighing you down, let me assist you, let me care for you." They're both messes, covered in blood and plant goo and dirt and who knows what else, both bleeding out and both probably would've already collapsed were they not used to combat-gone-sour. Yet here they are, both lucid enough to have this discussion, with Elsword attempting to use his golden retriever powers to make Add breathe for a second.

He doesn't expect that the outcome will be in his favour, but he tries.

What he can do is conjure his healing magic forth, another bubble-like spell but far less deadly to set down on top of them. When he's not concentrating those healing glyphs into any one area, the magic is diluted, but it should work for now to patch up any surface-level injuries. If they stay in it long enough, it should get the bigger ones, too.

He stares up at the vaulted ceiling for a moment before rolling onto his side, on the not-plant arm. Gives Add a tired quirk of the lips, a smile for all intents and purposes. Then, as though he's dealing with a frightened animal, he wraps Add in a hug.]

But it's my job. [childish, quavering, this voice doesn't like him at all] I'm supposed to take care of you.

[He's supposed to be an asset, but all he's done these past few days (weeks? months?) is fuck up over and over again, and now Elsword is blooming. Why is he even here, if all he ever does is waste everyone's time and energy? No one ever needs his help here. He feels like dead weight... he can't even muster the will to move anymore, giving up on his spare needle once the glyphs start to fill the air. Why does he bother? Elsword is stronger without him. He can even fix the Illuminous Phenomenon without Add's help—and he really did try his hardest the past two years. What was the point, if some random merchant with a piece of glass could fix it the whole time? Is he too stupid to figure it out? Is the parasite going to end up the same?

Tears burn in his eyes like hot embers. He's too ashamed to look at Elsword, too dejected to resist his help. He wants to crawl into a hole and die but all he can do is sit there and let himself be hugged, bathed in the warm light that does nothing for how he feels right now.]

... I should've stayed in the garden. [half-mumbled, words he only lets out because he's certain Elsword won't understand their depth. he could've stayed.]

[Haha. Ha. If only Nene hadn't told him what the Garden is. It's enough to make his heart seize in his throat, a surprising thing for him and the aforementioned Illuminous Phenomenon. Were his hands not bloody, he might've run them through Add's hair in an attempt to calm him, like in the long-lost memories of Elesis doing the same to him when they were children. The only thing staying his hand is the fact that blood is something of a pain in the ass to wash out... but then again, they've both been there before.

Elsword won't force Add to look at him this time; ordinarily he likes to meet his eyes, map his expressions and the depths he can barely cross, but he'll give his friend this. They don't have to acknowledge the tears. It's alright.]

We take care of each other, [comes his resolute affirmation, with the confidence only someone who could possibly walk into the El and survive could have.] We're a team. That's the whole point.

And I don't want you to go back to the Garden. [Not again. If Add goes, Elsword goes; at least they'd be together.] I want you here with me. Even when I was upset a couple days ago, I never stopped wanting that.

[He's silent—because if he speaks, he'll surely start blubbering like a fool. There's still a lingering illusion that he has something to lose here. It he's quiet, if he can reign it back in, come up with a quick excuse, maybe he'll have a scrap of dignity left... but it's easier to lean into Elsword's embrace, sweet reassurances whispered into his ear. We're a team, we care for each other, I want you here with me...

Add sniffles, just barely holding back the dams now. If anyone found them like this, he'd feel embarrassed and humiliated. If it's just him and Elsword, though...

(why is it different when it's him? it must be because he's such a loyal pawn to Add.)

Slowly, awkwardly, he wriggles his arms free of the tight hug, resting his hands gently (nervously) on the small of Elsword's back. If he sits like this... he feels a little better. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with Elsword's scent, tracing his fingers over the base of his spine.

It still takes some time... but his breathing is more even, after awhile, and he doesn't feel like he's going to burst into tears if he speaks. His voice is low, hoarse, but he can tolerate the sound of it as long as no one but Elsword hears.]

... I know. I'm sorry. [Nene must have mentioned the garden... he feels like a child caught red-handed, apologizing for getting caught but not for the act itself. He sighs.] I'm not supposed to be the one getting hurt this much... I know I made you worry. I've been careless.

[Here they are on the floor in the den, surrounded in a weak healing light, tangled up in each other as much as they can. It's not the most comfortable — Elsword's head is cocked at a weird angle, and he imagines Add is faring no better in terms of good surfaces to be lying on — but they're safe. For now, they're blissfully safe, wrapped up in each other as scrapes and cuts slowly stitch themselves up. Elsword doesn't know when he shifted closer, nor when he tangled their legs together — did they collapse like that? — but he remains stone-still so not to disturb the way they are now, even when Add's fingers trail over the exposed skin on his back. It tickles. It feels pleasant and warm. Add's fingertips fit perfectly in the dip created where his spine arches, and he doesn't immediately want them to move.

Carefully, he starts working off a gauntlet behind Add's back. There's hardly much of it left anyway, and the dented metal is beginning to choke the circulation in his fingertips.]

I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have blown up on you, and I shouldn't have left you that night, and I should've just sucked it up and came to see you sooner. We might have had time to prepare for all this if I did.

[As he says this, there's a dull thunk of a gauntlet being freed and falling to the floor. Elsword's hand immediately goes for Add's hair, fingertips threading through the tangles near his scalp. Perhaps he'll be lucky enough to comb it out and braid it again when this is all over.

Elsword let's that thought hang in the air for a minute longer, completely silent. Then, his fingers free themselves from the clinging strands, and his thumb draws a line over Add's cheekbone. He swears he's wiping away a spot of blood, but it lingers; his palm rests against Add's cheek. Something feels... something feels, in this moment, but it's deeply buried under Autumn's fallen leaves, being stamped down by the angry foot of the Illuminous Phenomenon.]

...You don't have to tell me anything that happened. [He finally says into the silence; he knows already. Add doesn't need to think about it any longer.] I know you don't want to. But... One day, I hope you'll let me in a little more. I'm not the best at advice, but I'm pretty good at listening, right?

[When he smiles, he hopes it looks real, and not like the muted half-grins he's given these past few years.]

[Feeling those fingers in his hair again, after how awful the past week has been to Add... the tension is finally starting to ease from his shoulders, the tiniest moan escaping his lips. Forget the flowers, their injuries, the chaos outside... just for a little longer, he wants to savor this feeling. He's allowed to have a break every now and then.

He's all too willing to lose himself in Elsword's voice, the hands in his hair, tracing the frame of his cheek... before he knows it, they're staring eye to eye again. It's not as terrifying as he thought it would be—his tears have long since dried, and he's too distracted by how brilliantly red Elsword's eyes are. The way they blend with the bright bloody smears across his face, broken only by the sharp glass-white of his pupils. Eyelashes that seem too soft and delicate for someone so strong... he wants to reach out and touch it, pluck one out and put it under a microscope, see if the gem-like shimmer is quantifiable. He wants to wipe the filth and blood away, polish it all to a shine, cell samples, blood samples, hair, saliva, bone...

(what would happen, if he moved just a little closer? like a moth to a flame, skin touching skin)

Add blinks, snapping himself out of the trance. His face is flush as he looks away, a wave of embarrassment coming over him. He really shouldn't stare... what were they talking about again...]

... No. I should tell you. [right. the Critical Lore™... he promised Nene he'd share it, and really, he shouldn't be keeping something like this to himself. Still... he nervously digs his fingers at the edges of Elsword's back-window.] But... later. Not right now. There's still a lot to do out there.

[they can't stay in here having gay thoughts all day while everyone else is fighting for their lives... that's not good ally behavior]

[Truly, no one but them could find romantic tension in this scene, laying in the middle of the floor in their own blood and various battle-induced gunk. If either of his housemates walked in right now, they would assume the worst, either in the we-are-about-to-makeout-on-the-floor or we-are-dying context, and which one is preferred is the verdict of a coin toss at this point. But they don't, so Add is free to let his tense fingers curl against Elsword's spine, and Elsword is free to caress Add's face and look at him like the man put the stars in the sky.

It's the most face-emotion he's had in a few days. Elsword manages to look like many things — a slight bit depressed since he almost never smiles, grouchy, mentally vacant, any number of not-so-good things to compliment his unfortunately-forced stoicism. It is rare indeed that he manages to look reassuring and bashful in the same moment. Boyish, really. It's rarer that Add looks flustered, to him; to see his shoulders relax, to be able to look into his eyes and witness tension melting away... it's good. There are only good things happening here (there's blood everywhere, there are slowly-closing gouges all over both of them, what are they even doing).

Add looks away, and Elsword clonks their foreheads together. If his usual self-sacrificing devotion can be conveyed through mere touch, this is that to a tee.]

I'll be here when you decide to do that, but I won't force you to say anything until then.

[Add's breath tickles his lips; are they too close? Elsword has never had a concept of invading personal space before, touch-driven as he tends to be and only respectfully backing off when someone tells him to... but this is a different circumstance, it feels like. The thought barely enters his mind before it leaves. If they fit together so perfectly, let them be puzzle pieces; if they match so well, let them be complementing fabrics on fate's quilt.

It's alright if he closes his eyes and breathes Add in for a spell. The good doctor hasn't pulled away from him yet. Something has to go right today, and in this very moment, "right" is a gaze that lasts too long for them to keep calling themselves friends. "Right" is a promise of skin-on-skin and hands at the base of his spine, intermingled breaths, a childish half-laugh punctuating the air between them as Elsword heavily considers flipping them up onto the nearby sofa to continue the embrace. His lips part to say something undoubtedly stupid—

—and then the front door flings open and he jolts back, like they're two teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. He rolls onto his back to look up, expecting Rennuid or Felicity, but

Leon stands, noble, with several familiar-looking drones in his wide jaws. Elsword knows his lion has the ability to open doors, but he hadn't even heard the knob jiggling for what was unmistakably three minutes of lion paws desperately trying to manipulate it, which means he was too far gone to have noticed the telltale clickclack in the first place. This bodes well for the Foreign Emotion the Illuminous Phenomenon is still trying to snuff out.]

Leon?

[His artifact completely ignores him, proudly walks up to Add on the floor, and blehs the drones down at his feet. Hello!! He found these! They are yours. :) ]

[An unexpected physical contact triggers a shockwave within him—his spine shivers, fingers digging deeper on instinct. He's hyper-aware of the damp skin-to-skin contact between their foreheads, marred with sweat and blood and El knows what else. Veins and blood that flows beneath skin, the warm echo of a heartbeat that pulses through his brain. It's dizzying, it's addicting, he wants it more and more and more—

and then Leon ruins the fucking mood, yeah.

Karte is also here, excited to swoop in with a single Dynamo clutched in its tiny dragon claws. It's hard to tell if it carried Dynamo, or if Dynamo is carrying Karte. Either way, the entire squad is now present.

Suddenly forced to consider his appearance again (as if the artifacts care???), Add is quick to straight himself up. He clears his throat, exasperated, red-eyed... but the rest of his feelings are shuffled away, at least for now. Thoughts to sort out later, in private, where he might reach a more logical conclusion...

at least he seems to be feeling better, if he's able to recover this quickly.]

Thank you, Leon. That's quite enough for now. [please do not start gnawing or slobbering on him just yet he's still injured] Dynamo, run system recovery then display your report. Hopefully the others have made some more headway...

[Karte curls itself up ontop of Elsword's head like a hat, playfully snapping at the funny glowy halo. As one does. They are very happy to see the end of the divorce arc, yeah.]

[Leon and Karte are going to gossip about this later like "oh girl what WERE they doing on the floor 👀"

Elsword takes a moment to get up and drag himself over to the front door to close it. Though the plants aren't trying to come in here, he doesn't want the open door to be an invitation.

Meanwhile, his injured arm is throbbing... ugh. Karte doesn't even get told "hey don't eat that" because Elsword is in too much pain to really think about it. The floor moment was respite from it all, truly.]

We should fix up the other injuries and head back out. We can do it in your room, if you want. It's probably comfier than the floor.

[...]

I can carry you.

[The healing bubble might've taken care of the shallower injuries, but walking is a mystery. Do Add got legs?]

You will not be carrying me. Let me see that arm.

[Add, meanwhile, has shifted into a better position on the floor... look, he's operated under far worse conditions before, this is no big deal. A few holoscreens pop open as Dynamo reboots itself, filling up with various scans and diagrams...

He's quick to minimize the screen with his own data, sliding it off to the side where he can deal with it later. The flowers did a number on him and he'll have a hell of a time fixing his clothes later, but he was pulled out and healed before it could get any worse that surface damage. The more severe patient always takes priority.]

Besides, traveling that far would be a waste of time. I have everything I need right here. [not quite registering that "your room" means "the room in this house that I saved for you" and not "your room back at the inn" he's dumb and multitasking give him a minute]

[...?

Oh, right. They never talked about that. Elsword immediately spills the metaphorical tea.]

No, your room upstairs. I saved it for you while you were gone. The door is locked, and I'm the only person that's gone in there.

[You know, to put furniture in it but also to sleep in Add's bed because Pining? Normal things to do dwbi.

But yeah, he sits down to let Add see his arm, full of gouges and lacerations and dried, caked-on blood of various colours, and cute little menacing flowers. There's a seal drawn in pink henna depicting the phases of the moon right at the top of his bicep before his shoulder — Felicity's handiwork. A magical seal to keep the infection from spreading, though the black veins are beginning to sneak past the threshold.]

Upstairs? [he pauses, hands on the vial he'd put down earlier. it's not wholly unexpected that Elsword would want Add to stay close... actually, it makes the most sense for him. he rolls the glass tube between his fingers, wondering why it makes him feel strange to think about something so typical of Elsword.] You didn't have to... none of my things are there, so it's not like you're keeping my privacy.

[still, it's... strangely touching. to be thought of, and respected, even when it doesn't matter.

He shifts his focus to the wound. It's still an ugly sight, but his head feels much clearer this time. He runs his fingertips along the veins, the emerging sprouts, flaking off the blood to see where it's still flowing fresh... it's certainly worse than it was before. He still wants to kick himself for not doing something sooner, but that wouldn't solve this problem in the now. Add hums, frowning.

Cure will have to wait one more step. He puts the vial away again, pulling out his laser-scalpel instead. It buzzes to life as he levels the blade with one of the larger stems. He's taking his goddamn samples.]

I'm going to remove them, one at a time. Tell me if you feel anything.

Yeah, but... I missed you, so when you came back, I wanted you to have somewhere to call home that wasn't a dingy inn room.

[No offense to the inn, but it's a bit dilapidated. Plus, it's quieter out by the river (so far) and Elsword can simply go out and fish or forage for mushrooms or pick an apple from the tree on the banks...

But they can have a discussion about moving Add in when the Grove isn't dying, and when both of them are fixed up. He keeps his arm still throughout Add's explorations, purposely looking away from the worst of the wounds. Most of the blood that's still flowing is part of the large holes in his arm, inflicted by himself during a moment of madness (thanks plants)... he closes his eyes and tries to pretend he didn't have a nightmare about his arm coming to life and strangling him, that he didn't see it do the same thing to him while he was on the ground getting eaten alive, and that he didn't hallucinate those same vines trying to kill Add. Closes his eyes...

...and suddenly snaps them open when the laser-scalpel cuts into a stem, sucking in a pained hiss through his teeth. Like it or not, these things are part of him — it's like cutting into a nerve, slicing into raw muscle, something like that. Elsword barely manages a low I feel something in response to Add's request, as if it wasn't obvious by his grit teeth and the way he starts to sweat.

Eventually, he manages to find words again at a louder volume:]

You can cut them off. It's okay. I'm okay.

[He's trying to convince himself of that, anyway.]

[His hands are steady, but Elsword's reaction doesn't go unnoticed—one quick, tiny cut, so at least he's not left to linger on it for long. It still brings him pause, though, studying Elsword's expression from the corner of his eye.]

No. Describe it to me. [calm, focused. pain is just the body's way of communicating, so in a sense this is progress. he needs to understand what it's doing to him. he needs to understand.] What does it feel like? How painful, at what point of origin, is there any internal movement? Give me as much detail as possible.

This time, tell me the moment you feel anything. Okay?

[slowly, he brings the blade to the next flower... just close enough for the stem to feel the heat of the beam, but not enough to cut it. not yet. he'll only keep going if Elsword gives him the clear.]

[These are a lot of medical questions aimed at someone who doesn't understand the first thing about medicine, but he'll sure try his best with answering Add's questions. Elsword is not the most verbose, wordy person, and it's likely clear by his expression — brow knit, sweat on his forehead, the fingers of his right hand digging into his torn-up pants, nails pressing into showing skin — that what Add did the first time hurts more than he can properly vocalize.

Still... he takes a breath as the pain from the first cut ebbs.]

It feels like it's shooting out from where you cut it, down into my fingers, but it doesn't go past the seal. [He points to the moon-marks with his opposite hand.] It's kind of like cutting into a nerve directly. I don't feel any internal movement.

[Eugh. That's gross to think about, he hopes that never happens! Haha—

The blade moves closer, and Elsword can feel the heat on his skin, even as the white bloom seems to recoil away from it, petals curling inwards. He doesn't feel anything moving underneath the surface, watching it now to see if it does anything. There's a secondary sensation lying under all of it, that of warmth against a foreign object that should not be connected to his nervous system and is.]

I can feel the heat on both my skin and the stem. ...but you can keep going. I can handle it.

... self preservation, manipulating the host to prevent removal of the parasitic body. Nerves only send signals to the brain to communicate contact and damage to external tissue, so hijacking those signals allows it to move as it pleases and discourage removal. A simple but effective trick of the mind.

[Add pulls the knife away, putting it aside for now. Of course, there's no real damage occurring to the body so he could just continue to remove them like this. As entertaining as it might be to watch Elsword squirm under his care...

He smiles, pulling a red vial from his pouch to hold up to the light.]

Unfortunately for your clever little parasite, it's not the only one capable of manipulating sensory feedback. [painkillers here to save the day AGAIN. he calls down a dynamo, inserting the dose into its syringe.] Let's see how it likes this... kukuku, I wonder if this drug is effective on plants as well? Consider this my act of mercy before I cut you into pieces.

[yes he is talking to the stupid flowers, he chuckles villainously under his breath some more as he injects the painkillers into Elsword's arm... it'll take a few minutes to kick in, so they have some time to kill.]

Edited 2023-08-22 04:52 (UTC)

[Now you give him painkillers??? After all of that? Elsword tries not to look too cross... he knows (trusts) that Add is just trying to test sensory responses for treatments, that's all it is. A bit of pain is fine if it's for scientific progress.

He manages the littlest "ouch" when the needle jabs into him. Ordinarily he might have rubbed the sore injection site, but everything there hurts, and he's pointedly ignoring the wounds he inflicted anyway.]

You seem like you're doing better, at least. You don't have any massive wounds anywhere, do you?

[Would Add even let him see if he did... probably not, but sticking his hands up Add's shirt like the last time this happened isn't out of the question. Don't test him, he'll fucking do it.]

I can help you until this stuff kicks in. [ignore the still-active healing bubble listen he can do it better let him help it's all he knows how to do—]

[I'm fine hangs at his lips. It would be so easy to continue like this, pretending that he's invincible, ignoring all the aches and throbbing pains in his body until he can deal with them in private...

He sighs, letting his smile drop. Even if he lies, he'll just get scolded later when they have to go back out again.

Add reaches down to the sad little corner he shoved his own data to... he hesitates a moment longer before he slides it over, expanding it to finally make the chart visible to both of them. Dynamo beeps, one of the drones rising to circle him a couple of times. Scanning, refreshing, please wait...

a cheery ding before displaying the results. They can ignore the big red ERROR label stuck to his eye. Lots of areas marked in yellow and orange, partly healed cuts, skin that's bound to stay bruised for weeks... it gets worse lower down, where more of him had been trapped in the thorns. He winces, tapping the screen for more details on the bright red label over his leg.]

That's a fracture... great. [those flowers really didn't want to let him go huh] I'll put a splint on it for now... I suppose I could use some help with that.

[he rubs at his neck idly, careful around the slowly-healing wounds. he doesn't like how heavily that area has been labeled... if he keeps getting cut up in the same places...]

[Elsword would say he feels smug that Add is now confessing injuries to him, if he could possibly feel smug in this moment (or at all).]

That looks bad. [Genius observations from the sentient El piece himself.] ...are you sure you don't want to go upstairs? Don't you have to take your pants off for that?

[Is it high enough on his leg where his stupid tight pants can't be rolled up... either way Elsword is already stealing Add's shoes, get those off they're also in the way. He's helping™.]

I don't know how Fel will take it if she comes back home and you're pantsless on the floor.

[why did he word it like that—]

!EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORNS

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i am losing my fucking gourd over this thread

why are they like this

"ADD'S THINLY-VEILED KINKS"

new strat to getting rid of forestitis is to be horny on main until it leaves by choice

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!
EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORNS