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Dec. 2nd, 2019 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticitydani carr posted this tweet: https://twitter.com/ItsDaniCarr/status/1201720945691377665?s=20
so then i had to write some pre-slash widofjord
at least, fjord thought, the mighty nein had beds. that was worth something. sure the beds were essentially slats if wood with pieces of linen draped over them. they had rooms, which was worth something. the rooms had drafty windows in which you could quite clearly see the space between the absolutely foul pane of glass - nearly as impenetrable as a wood board would have been anyway - and the structure of the wall.
from that space, along with what fjord was a large number of other spaces, whipped a vicious, icy wind that cut right through him. “used to” was a little generous for the sharp feeling that summoning up uk'otoa’s strength, but at least ice cold was familiar. weirdly comforting, even if that was way less than it used to be.
“It should be illegal to be this cold in a room,” fjord hissed, closing the door behind him. he was still a little drunk, and even then he was cold, and you knew how cold it had to be if it cut through the booze. he was not looking forward to being sober tomorrow, that was for sure. he was in the process of removing his armor when the chattering caught his ear and he looked up to catch the sound.
it had to have been the lump in the other bed, covered in the linen cloth serving as a sheet. he could see the shivering from here, and the tightly wound fetal position on top of that.
“Caleb?” he asked, in a low whisper. No response. A lot more shivering and teeth chattering. With a frown, he took the rest of the armor off and walked over to that bed. Caleb was definitely asleep. He had a feeling that startling the man awake might lead to his head being melted off. Actually, maybe that would have been better than being this cold.
“Caleb,” he said again, and touched his shoulder, gently. Through the cloth the man was freezing. “Gods, you’re an ice cube.” He looked at his bed, for a few moments, and then with a serious look on his face, went over, grabbed that blanket and brought it back. With a breath he pulled the blanket over both him and Caleb, and pulled the wizard in close to him.
“Fjord?” a whisper, low. Voice shaky with cold.
“Can’t have you freezing to death in here,” Fjord replied, and settled both of them under both blankets, “Nott will be pissed and I don’t want to be riddled with bolts.”
“I am fine,” Caleb responded, because of course he did, which is exactly what Fjord would have said.
“No, you are definitely not.”
“You are not — protecting me.” He tried to wiggle away and Fjord held him.
“Like I said, I am protecting myself from being murdered by Nott. Now don’t make me tell you a bedtime or something.”
Caleb grumbled something in Zemnian and stilled. Fjord settled up to him again, pulling the ice-cold wizard back to him.
“Fjord,” Caleb said.
Fjord grunted in acknowledgement. Cold wizard or no cold wizard, it was dark and he was laying in what could have been generally defined as a bed, and earlier in that day they had been murdering something or other, and even Jester healed him he was still sore.
“Would be worse to freeze to death with me or shot by Nott?”
“Go to sleep.”
Fjord heard what was have been a laugh. You know, in fact it was kind of nice to lay here with Caleb. He wasn’t shivering anymore, that was nice. There was no more teeth chattering, also nice. He did not spell bad, like Jester teased him. It was merely strange, something exotic about it - from all the spell components, he was sure, molasses and batshit and phosphorus and leather and whatever else he carried in his pockets. Not at all unpleasant. Familiar. Actually a little nice, when you got used to it. Caleb’s hair brushed against his chest and as he laid there he felt the man warm where they touched.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Caleb said, in which Fjord was sure was deadpan humor.
“Yeah, well, remember this next time you’re using that speedy spell.”
Caleb was saying something else, but Fjord just gave him another squeeze in response instead of listening.
so then i had to write some pre-slash widofjord
at least, fjord thought, the mighty nein had beds. that was worth something. sure the beds were essentially slats if wood with pieces of linen draped over them. they had rooms, which was worth something. the rooms had drafty windows in which you could quite clearly see the space between the absolutely foul pane of glass - nearly as impenetrable as a wood board would have been anyway - and the structure of the wall.
from that space, along with what fjord was a large number of other spaces, whipped a vicious, icy wind that cut right through him. “used to” was a little generous for the sharp feeling that summoning up uk'otoa’s strength, but at least ice cold was familiar. weirdly comforting, even if that was way less than it used to be.
“It should be illegal to be this cold in a room,” fjord hissed, closing the door behind him. he was still a little drunk, and even then he was cold, and you knew how cold it had to be if it cut through the booze. he was not looking forward to being sober tomorrow, that was for sure. he was in the process of removing his armor when the chattering caught his ear and he looked up to catch the sound.
it had to have been the lump in the other bed, covered in the linen cloth serving as a sheet. he could see the shivering from here, and the tightly wound fetal position on top of that.
“Caleb?” he asked, in a low whisper. No response. A lot more shivering and teeth chattering. With a frown, he took the rest of the armor off and walked over to that bed. Caleb was definitely asleep. He had a feeling that startling the man awake might lead to his head being melted off. Actually, maybe that would have been better than being this cold.
“Caleb,” he said again, and touched his shoulder, gently. Through the cloth the man was freezing. “Gods, you’re an ice cube.” He looked at his bed, for a few moments, and then with a serious look on his face, went over, grabbed that blanket and brought it back. With a breath he pulled the blanket over both him and Caleb, and pulled the wizard in close to him.
“Fjord?” a whisper, low. Voice shaky with cold.
“Can’t have you freezing to death in here,” Fjord replied, and settled both of them under both blankets, “Nott will be pissed and I don’t want to be riddled with bolts.”
“I am fine,” Caleb responded, because of course he did, which is exactly what Fjord would have said.
“No, you are definitely not.”
“You are not — protecting me.” He tried to wiggle away and Fjord held him.
“Like I said, I am protecting myself from being murdered by Nott. Now don’t make me tell you a bedtime or something.”
Caleb grumbled something in Zemnian and stilled. Fjord settled up to him again, pulling the ice-cold wizard back to him.
“Fjord,” Caleb said.
Fjord grunted in acknowledgement. Cold wizard or no cold wizard, it was dark and he was laying in what could have been generally defined as a bed, and earlier in that day they had been murdering something or other, and even Jester healed him he was still sore.
“Would be worse to freeze to death with me or shot by Nott?”
“Go to sleep.”
Fjord heard what was have been a laugh. You know, in fact it was kind of nice to lay here with Caleb. He wasn’t shivering anymore, that was nice. There was no more teeth chattering, also nice. He did not spell bad, like Jester teased him. It was merely strange, something exotic about it - from all the spell components, he was sure, molasses and batshit and phosphorus and leather and whatever else he carried in his pockets. Not at all unpleasant. Familiar. Actually a little nice, when you got used to it. Caleb’s hair brushed against his chest and as he laid there he felt the man warm where they touched.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Caleb said, in which Fjord was sure was deadpan humor.
“Yeah, well, remember this next time you’re using that speedy spell.”
Caleb was saying something else, but Fjord just gave him another squeeze in response instead of listening.