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lucetilogs2011-11-04 03:19 pm
imatreenow.livejournal.com) wrote in lucetilogs2011-11-04 03:19 pm
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imatreenow and whats_a_sneeze
What: Ain't no rest for the wicked
When: November 4th
Where: Some....where in the village
Summary: Mithos returns from the dead (nothing new here). Sayo finds him and offers her help - he couldn't hide forever. ...But what to do with him now?
Rating: No more than PG
[It’s déjà vu, waking up sprawled out on his side with his last recollection being one of dying. Even the white cotton New Feather pants are the same, and the underlying anger that rises up quickly once the sluggishness of suddenly coming to in very different circumstances than the ones left behind passes. Mithos pushes himself up with his hands. Gingerly, his fingers brush over a newly formed scar on his torso – one of several courtesy of Yuan. His expression darkens in the way that only his grudge can cause. The next time he sees that miserable traitor, he owes him. Big time.
He stands.
Or rather, he tries to, but the command gets lost somewhere on the way to his legs. One readily kicks out; the other refuses. He stares down at it, mind buzzing. He hits one hand across his thigh. Nothing. Not even the pins-and-needles tingle of shaking off numbness. He tries again, striking harder.
It might as well not even be attached to his body. This is where his expression turns to one of blanched panic. Another attempt at standing up, more frantic – the right leg begins going through the motions, but it’s useless without the other. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out where he is. His journal – where’s his journal? He can contact—
It’s sitting right where he left it, at the house. Up a creek without a paddle. He has to get out of here; he can’t stay out in the open where anyone could happen upon him like this. ...He still has three good limbs, and he’s nothing if not persistent. If he can support his weight on his one functioning knee, and drag himself with his arms...]
imatreenow and whats_a_sneezeWhat: Ain't no rest for the wicked
When: November 4th
Where: Some....where in the village
Summary: Mithos returns from the dead (nothing new here). Sayo finds him and offers her help - he couldn't hide forever. ...But what to do with him now?
Rating: No more than PG
[It’s déjà vu, waking up sprawled out on his side with his last recollection being one of dying. Even the white cotton New Feather pants are the same, and the underlying anger that rises up quickly once the sluggishness of suddenly coming to in very different circumstances than the ones left behind passes. Mithos pushes himself up with his hands. Gingerly, his fingers brush over a newly formed scar on his torso – one of several courtesy of Yuan. His expression darkens in the way that only his grudge can cause. The next time he sees that miserable traitor, he owes him. Big time.
He stands.
Or rather, he tries to, but the command gets lost somewhere on the way to his legs. One readily kicks out; the other refuses. He stares down at it, mind buzzing. He hits one hand across his thigh. Nothing. Not even the pins-and-needles tingle of shaking off numbness. He tries again, striking harder.
It might as well not even be attached to his body. This is where his expression turns to one of blanched panic. Another attempt at standing up, more frantic – the right leg begins going through the motions, but it’s useless without the other. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out where he is. His journal – where’s his journal? He can contact—
It’s sitting right where he left it, at the house. Up a creek without a paddle. He has to get out of here; he can’t stay out in the open where anyone could happen upon him like this. ...He still has three good limbs, and he’s nothing if not persistent. If he can support his weight on his one functioning knee, and drag himself with his arms...]
no subject
Good! Ah--would you like to sit down and put it on yourself?
[She doesn't want to invade your personal space. Well, more than she already has, anyway. `_`]
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There's a spare chair waiting nearby; he slowly makes his way over and awkwardly lowers himself onto it. It feels good to rest. But it's frustrating that something as minor as walking should wear him out so much. He starts putting the coat on, mindful of the wings - flashes of phantom pain surface in his mind, just briefly, recalling the instant they'd been torn out. Buttoning up, and done. But he'll stay sitting a moment more, not looking forward to having to struggle back to his feet.]
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Is it warm enough, Mithos-san?
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...That's a dangerous thought. Try to think of it any other way: it's not accepting help, it's manipulating resources.]
It's suitable. [Standing up, the hem reaches his knees, but the top is fitted. He'll need shoes too, but more importantly something to aid him in walking. His eyes scan the store.]
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What size is your foot? I can bring you some different shoes to try...
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He silently pores over the selection for several moments, moving along the aisle as necessary, until he finds a pair of boots he likes. Then...bah, he forgot that holding something would make walking with the stick a lot more difficult – he’d been using both hands. Have a pause as he tries to figure this out.]
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[Sayo doesn't move from the spot she sits at; but she's paying careful attention for him calling. As much as she'd love to jump up and fly over to aid him, she's aware of his pride, that he wants to accomplish it on his own. Until then, she'll just tie her scarf thoughtfully.]
1/2
He mis-steps. His dead leg folds uselessly beneath his weight.]
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Worthless...piece of trash! Damn you, filthy traitor...! [Yuan will pay for this. His tab is quickly racking up.]
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We'll stand up and try again, Mithos-san. I know you're defiant enough to rise above your penalty. Aren't you?
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And even though he said he could rise above the limitations placed on him, he really isn't sure. He's scared. Weak, vulnerable, practically defenseless: not where he wants to be, when nobody can be trusted. When he's different from them. She might not care (which is still so hard to believe), but others...
So much to fear. But she's still there; she hasn't gone anywhere. Finally he takes her offered hand, for the second time already, and lets her help him up.]
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....
[Oh, she just realized how crazy weird this situation is. Give her a sec to be enlightened by the moment.]
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With the boots now on his feet (the left one was frustrating...more like trying to put a shoe on someone else's foot, which is an unsettling thought), he straightens up in his seat. His eyes fall on the crutches, and he looks back up at her.]
...For me? [which is a dumb question, but he can't help it. He is not used to people being this helpful. Or helpful at all.]
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...
...Now what?]
1/3
Right! Then let's go home; I had some thread I was going to try—
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[SAYO YOU FOOL, HOW WILL YOU ENJOY YOUR WEAVING NOW.]
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W-well, that's alright! I have a big jar of dyes that I was going to try out, anyway....!! I always have so much stuff sitting around to dye...
Do you have anything else you need? I'm all stocked up on food, so if you're hungry, you can have whatever you want there...
1/2
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No, I don't need anything else. [from the store, anyway. He'll have to write out a list of things he needs from his house... Oh, hello there well-timed tummy grumble.]
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Alright! Let's go, then! I'll make you something filling! Perhaps some fish? Ah! Or Oden! I just re-learned it the other night, actually. I think I can make it much better this time around.
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...Either is fine. [he'll let her lead the way once they get out of the shop, even though he still remembers exactly where to go.]