driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: IT'S A GAME MINGLE GET IN THE VAN
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: All of it!
When: Second half of the month.

[hey everyone! how's it been going? how's medieval-fun-time-world treating you? anyone pillaged and burned anything yet? got kicked out of the castle? been planning expeditions? registered for jousting? busy angsting for the last two weeks on your ship?

this is a mingle for everybody, whether they're hiding in the volcano, out and about in the city, or up on one of those random random stations where you can get quirky souvenirs.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[he imagines that Robin must be laughing himself silly, somewhere. and he stands, though he's in no great hurry to actually go anywhere.]

It won't help. ...Even when those red stones infected us all, there wasn't anything that helped.

[Hearing about red stones in general isn't a very interesting sort of thing, but red stones that infect people? That has her reaches for his shoulder to steady him, ducking her head down to make eye contact.]

What do you mean? [If he's talking about red lyrium...] Is there any of that here?

I'm sure many people have kept their samples. The affliction was fleet-wide, after all.

[her sudden interest piques his own, and he hangs onto that eye contact for a moment before he bothers answering. just reading the little details of her expression before it can change to something else.]

Why?

[The eye contact, the way he's practically staring, it has her feeling uncomfortable the longer it goes on. What's the matter with him?]

Do you know Varric? He's a dwarf, lots of chest hair, talks about his crossbow constantly. Was he here when that happened?

[Surely Varric would have said something if there was red lyrium here. And surely Tek won't mind Jove completely ignoring his questions yet again.]

[if he dodges questions and meaningful topics all the time, the least he can do is tolerate it a little in someone else. besides, the things that she chooses not to answer, as well as what she decides to say instead, tell him plenty.

if anything, it almost feels as if she's even easier to read, when he's feeling like this. so he just shrugs.]

I think it was before his time. It was a plague that came and went, and so has already passed into irrelevant memory for most of those here. You've seen how quickly these things move here, no doubt.

[and he waves his hand a little, because none of it matters anyway.]

That isn't what's happening here, in any case.

[Well that kind of begs a very specific question.]

Why did you bring it up, then?

[The question is at least being asked while she's trying to lead him towards the medbay. She has herbs and poultices in her room that she's mixed up thanks to the abundant plant life on the planet, but they'll start there. Much less intrusive than letting him into her room.

Assuming she has any idea how any of the equipment works.]

[he follows along, but his heart isn't in it. he's tired and quietly agitated, and following lifelessly along is easier than fighting.]

I was going to use it as an example. I don't get sick in a way that you can aid with medicine.

[he's distracted as he explains, eyes down and resting where she's in contact with him, leading him along]

...And does this mean that you're a healer, then?

[With how he was ravenously eating earlier, this rapid decline doesn't look good at all. As much as she'd rather not, her room is closer.]

I have some healing magic, but it's more the last ditch, save the entire group if they've nearly died sort of thing. But I've learned a thing or two about mixing my own medicines, so we'll... figure something out. Do you need help walking? You're looking rather unsteady.

[instead of answering any of that, he continues to just ponder over the fact that she's willingly leading him along somewhere, doing something other than keeping a wary eye on him. it continues to strike him funny.]

...So, what made you change your mind about me?

[That gets her to roll her eyes.]

I'm not in the habit of letting men die of fever in front of me just because we didn't have the best start. Now go in there and sit.

[She motions into her room, and then frowns at him.]

And no more smart comments, this is to make sure we don't have a corpse to deal with tomorrow.

[he... doesn't go anywhere. but he does laugh, a little--light and airy.]

I'm not going to die.

Yes, you're very rugged and manly and something like the sniffles would never bring you down. I understand. Go inside.

[She puts her hand on his back and pushes lightly, trying to guide him in herself if he won't just take the few steps on his own.]

[maybe he's just not used to her actually having any kind of willing contact with him, because that gentle push at his back pulls another odd, sharp little glance her way. but it's more like the reaction from a touchy animal than anything... normal.

he catches himself again, though, and finally submits to being ushered into the room.]

If it would make you feel better to play doctor with me for a little while, suit yourself.

[There's nothing particularly normal about Tek, put she pulls her hand away all the same.]

Will I regret asking you what that means?

It means exactly what it sounds like.

[--sort of. and he's inside the room now, but he again isn't really moving anywhere without prompting. just loitering where he's at. maybe still distracted by something.

maybe distracted by several somethings. his entire spine itches.

the presences of those aboard feel like bug-legs to him.]

And you don't really want to help me.

Maybe it escaped your notice, but I appear to be from far in the past. There are some modern turns of phrases I haven't ever heard before, so when you say playing doctor my first guess would be you mean I'm pretending to save your life.

[Maybe she's exaggerating there, but no one can feel that warm without risking severe injury if it's left to run rampant. She leaves him there in the middle of her room to inspect her small collection of herbs, picking through and setting aside what she has to assume is the Mor version of elfroot. It looked the same, tasted the same, had the same effects.

She has something for infections as well, but that's topical, meant to be crushed up and put onto a wound. Jove chews her lip as she looks over the bits of leaf and vine she's collecting, bringing one hand up to rub at the side of her neck uncertainly. It shouldn't cause allergic reaction in him, right? Elfroot is a general healing herb. It should be fine.

She glances at him at that accusation, eyebrow raising.]

I don't? Why is that?

[he steps closer, so he can see over her shoulder, as if he's actually at all interested in the herbs she's preparing. so, he's pretty much right there when she looks back at him.]

You just want to avoid having to deal with something unpleasant. You don't want the responsibility.

[it's in answer to both of her comments, and there's nothing really accusing about his tone. he could have been commenting on anything, by the sound of it. and he just as easily rolls into another thought, as if the two subjects had been related at all.]

...How old are you, again? ...Have I asked you before?

[The only sign of how she feels about his sudden proximity is the way her lips purse, but really she should expect this kind of thing by now. Tek likes to do that, sneak up on her. It's like his thing.]

Responsibility is rarely about wanting to have it. It's about handling it when you need to, and right now you're clearly unwell and I can help you. It isn't a big trick, Tek.

[He's acting so oddly, but he's still apparently lucid enough to be asking questions. Maybe there's no brain damage yet.]

I'm twenty-three. My nameday is in the fall. Why?

[he could argue it. he could bring up the fact that the obligation is all in her head, posit that she's just trying to make herself feel better, and pick at all the inconsequential points of it.

he could have made it into an exhausting conversation. and some other time, he probably would have.

for now, however, he's stuck between the want to hungrily refill his energy, and the need to violently expend it. it throws his focus. for once, he doesn't much want to talk.]

That young? [he makes a face.] Are you sure you're an elf?

[Way to say exactly the wrong thing, guy.]

Careful. You'll undo all the progress we've made towards being friendly if you keep that up.

[She turns back to what she was doing, collecting the plants into a mortar and reaching for the pestle to crush them up. There's a moment where she realizes she's now trapped between him and the table she's got all those herbs carefully laid out on, but she pushes it aside. It can't matter, can it?]

[he rolls with the warning easy enough, voice losing its derisive edge again.]

I mean to say that you'd seemed older. It's a compliment.

[and there's a pause that follows where he's just watching her crush up her herbs. ...hopefully.

and when he speaks again, just the littlest bit of impatience or agitation edges its way into his voice.]

...How long is this going to take?

[That gets another glance at him, shoulders losing some of their tension. He looks like he means it, so she sighs and shakes her head.]

In my world the elves lost their immortality. They used to live forever, but now we're just as mortal as every other race. It's still... a bit of a sore subject.

[That's as close to an apology as he'll get in the moment, but when he sounds so edgy with his question she has to laugh. When she turns back to him, she's collected the mashed up leaves into a compact ball, the juices running down her fingers as she holds it up.]

I could have given the herbs to you whole, but like this they'll work on you faster. Open your mouth, quickly if you please. It's going to drip soon.

[regardless of the potential mess that the medicine ball might make, he takes a moment to eye her. it's another quiet, veiled look, but might have been considered suspicion or wariness if he'd put more feeling behind it. just hesitating long enough to fix her with a look, before he finally opens his mouth.

and whether or not she's ever caught him while his teeth are sharp before, they are so now. and out comes his tongue, black and forked, to help pull the bundle of herbs into his mouth.]

[And isn't that an interesting and unexpected sort of thing. Her eyes widen slightly and she cranes her neck forward, tilts her head a little to get a better look at his tongue. If it brushes her skin she puts it out of her mind, ignores it and attributes it to the liquid already on her skin.]

Did I know you had that?

[well, curiosity instead of outright revulsion is not the usual sort of reaction he gets, but he's not about to complain.

and the ball of medicine is already gone--swallowed in one little gulp without grimace. he does take a moment to daintily wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, though.

after that, he has to smirk. it's tired and crooked, but he can't help it. he has to be just a little bit of a smartass.]

A tongue? Oh, yes. Most people do.