IC INBOX for asgard.

[skittering]

tba but go ahead and use this for text/audio/video or just action in the meantime

Comments

( text, day 40 [or some other day, it's not super important ya dig], around 16:00 )

[enflame]

( It's about time for Emil to live his best life -- bathe, eat, then go to Tyr. Well, his best life ends two-thirds through that list, but who's counting?

He's rifling through the cabinet in the Honir house's bathroom when he pauses on a glass container holding some very vibrant items. Hmm, curious.

Well, it's Lalli's house. )

Do you know what this is?

( And he sends a picture of one of these. )

[skittering]

❰ somewhere off on the outskirts of asgard, lalli stops to squint at the picture. ❱

tastes bad

hisses when you lick it

text; (day fifty-three, sometime during late afternoon/early evening)

[channellings]

[at first, the only thing lalli receives is an image message. the few seconds after it drags on and on, but eventually:]

so how's your day been??
mine's going swimmingly

[skittering]

❰ he spends entirely too long looking at this picture, wondering who that man is and what klaus is trying to convey. ❱

didn't i tell you not to do anything stupid

not sleeping is stupid

❰ because he assumes that picture is klaus's way of saying he's not sleeping, which is more important than his stupid smalltalk questions. ❱

( text, day 53/54 )

[enflame]

( In regards to time, it's almost been a week that Emil's been spending nights in the safehouse, and that's a longer stretch of time than he's comfortable with. It's not like the problem everyone is facing has a definite endpoint -- in fact, Emil is thinking right now that this could be something that stretches on for an ungodly length of time. There doesn't seem to be any way to stop Ivar from being a knife-wielding lunatic, and that's what's keeping him here with Klaus. Is he going to spend the rest of his time here in Asgard spending his night in a cage of protection? It's not the worst setup, and he'd likely just be at Tyr's dorms regardless, but the lack of choice is frustrating.

He could go for a walk right now, sure. But he's not supposed to and it could end in some unfortunate consequences by association. It's not something he's happy with.

Another point of contention in his mind is Lalli, who is tirelessly taking his magic and pushing it to its limit in order to keep this place safe. Who knows how long he has until the point of true exhaustion? Can someone do some even greater damage if they continuously keep it up? There's a worry within Emil that they may eventually find out at this rate.

Not to mention, it feels like he only really gets to see him when he's carrying him back to Honir for the night. Sometimes he's so out of it that he barely wakes up, too exhausted to be more than malleable purely for moving purposes. Thank goodness for the cuffs and their long distance communication capabilities, which Emil has taken to utilizing while he's awake with nothing to do in the safehouse.

Speaking of which, maybe that will help him settle his mind for the night. Just give him a moment to think up something while he makes himself comfortable on their new couch. He pulls out his cuff, tapping at it absentmindedly and flipping through some photos he's taken.

This is what he finally sends. )

There was an ugly bug outside when I came here.

( Fascinating info that Lalli absolutely needs to know at around midnight. )

[skittering]

❰ any other night, lalli would already be in motion. he'd be trekking out to the fringe of honir's domain where the buildings are sparse and the land is as green as it ever really gets within the city's limits. the god would be waiting for him with a smile far too chipper than it has any right to be, and together they'd put up another beam, frame out the rough wooden skeleton of another room.

honir is probably there now, waiting patiently for him to arrive.

lalli can't quite make himself get out of bed.

the text arrives, a picture of a large beetle and some words. lalli should read the words, he knows, and he stares at it for quite a while to will himself to do so - and before he quite realizes he's even typing, he sends: ❱

emil i'm tired

text; (day fifty-nine, late evening)

[channellings]

[for the record, klaus backspaced this stupid message at least fifty times before finally hitting send:]

your happiness does matter you idiot
and mustard does taste fucking awful by the way

[nobody said he was subtle, either.]

[skittering]

❰ lalli reads the message, then narrows his eyes a little as he reads it again. klaus may not be subtle, but while the mustard part is clear enough, lalli has no idea where the other part came from or why it's happening now in particular.

in comes an eloquent: ❱

what

❰ and that should be that, but he's still puzzling over it so a few seconds later: ❱

when did i say it didn't

❰ he doesn't remember saying that to or around klaus, if he's even said it to anyone. it's not a conversation he tends to have with people. ❱

[skittering]

❰ he doesn't need to ask what she found out. part of him almost does anyway, just for a few seconds to adjust to it - but how often does lalli truly seize the luxury of time to adjust? ❱

did you tell her?

( action, day 62 | afternoon )

[enflame]

( The night had been a hard one. Instead of sleeping under the stars in Honir, Emil didn't want to be there, thinking ugly and sad thoughts where he had previously been so happy and carefree. Tyr wasn't an option with Ivar still a concern, but the safehouse was still there. Not protected, but also not suspected. All the furniture hadn't even been removed yet, so it made for a makeshift shelter, if only for one evening

On further reflection, Emil should have known better than to think sleep was likely. Even after a talk with Klaus that was supposed to be reassuring -- though it did talk him down from his immediate impulse emotions -- his mind was still cycling through so many ruminating thoughts.

He was, and is, sure of one thing: Lalli doesn't hate him. That's helped him to not upset himself too much at the words he's replayed over and over again, a sound byte stuck on loop like background noise. There's too much evidence that's piled up proving otherwise, from helping him get through the dragon attack, the conversation they had before...the fight, and then so many things while on the expedition.

But that's not the question. It's whether or not they're friends. He can avoid being hated while not being friends with Lalli -- no, that's not accurate either. Lalli is his friend. He just isn't Lalli's friend, as was recently made crystal clear to him. A lot of feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment resurface. It's been made apparent so many times in the past that Lalli doesn't see him as particularly useful or capable of much. Maybe he's too big of an irritant to be friends with. Too pitiable, too much of a hindrance.

Once dawn arrived, the claustrophobia of the safehouse grew to be too pressing. The house they're building has potential and hope, but the safehouse holds memories and other emotions. He had to get out of there. Emil likes to hold onto optimism, and the structure of beams in the Honir country has much more of that to share with him.

So he ventured there, footsteps heavy, making the journey that much more time-consuming. Nothing is there -- no Klaus, no Lalli. Just the beams, the grass, the sky and Emil. That's fine right now. Being alone for a little while longer would help his mind to settle down.

Even thinking that, there's also the panging in his chest that's asking where Lalli is and if he's alright.

That's one of the items he keeps flitting back to, though it's on a long list. He's at a loss for what to do now that he's left to think all on his own, leaning against the beams where a corner would be. A corner of the living room, that was once perfectly visible in his minds eyes: warm and complete. )

[skittering]

❰ and so emil is alone for a little while longer. lalli lingers just past the treeline for entirely too long, bracing himself, willing himself to step out into the sunlight and crest the grassy hill that hides all but the peak of the distant skeletal house from view. it's not even that he's afraid. he isn't. this will work or it won't, and he's decided (whether or not the twist in his gut agrees) that he has an equally sound plan for either way that this could go.

but he can't just... march back to the house and act like everything is normal. maybe any other time, but not now. he has to say something, which means finding the words to say. that's why he's out here. he's never been good at words.

but the point comes where he can't postpone any longer. he may not have the words, but he also doesn't have any time left to find them. so he's off across the fields, running at first but slowing down to a walk once he crests the hill, the organized mess of foundation and beams just twenty meters away.

emil's there. lalli spots him at once, leaning against one of the beams. but his pace doesn't slow, carrying him up onto the foundation of the house until he's closed the distance between them to lean quietly against a different face of the same beam.

a moment passes, then another. then, terribly quiet: ❱ If I ruined this, tell me now. ❰ because everything he could possibly try to say is useless if he did. ❱

text; (day sixty-two, morning)

[channellings]

[anybody else would have waited, taken the time necessary to let all the feelings lessen, a small simmer rather than a still roiling boil— but klaus isn't ‘anybody else’ and if he wants something addressed, most times, other's take initiative and he follows.

it's different this time, though. a lot was said in the heat of the moment, during the fight that'd escalated so quickly, klaus's surprised he isn't still reeling from it all except part of him is, he just hasn't acknowledged that. despite taking a good long while to think it over and contemplate what he'll say to lalli, there's hesitance, a fear he'll fuck it up, make things worse, chase the little gremlin further into the forest or something.

so, his start is a basic-ass:] hey

[and he hopes he won't exacerbate things.]

later that afternoon, maybe even almost evening

[skittering]

you don't have to do this. room's yours either way

( action, day 67 | late afternoon )

[enflame]

( Panic is absolutely still present within Emil's gut -- it took some reassurance to quell it enough in order to get out of the forest, somehow more in tune with the emotions of the people inside of it, but it's by no means gone. Even if he's not running off at the mouth and frantically breathing, there are other ways that someone could tell. His expression is still sharp and darting; it suddenly feels like he has to be so much more in charge of his own sight because his friend has lost his own.

Lalli, said friend, can't be aware of that right now. He'll know that Emil is still so very emotionally compromised by how his hand is being squeezed just a little too tightly, nerves tense and occasionally shuddering if he allows himself to think about how long term this all may be. He knows what to do for physical wounds like cuts and punctures, or at least has a vague ideas of what a medic or professional would need in way of supplies to handle those injuries. Blindness? He's lost. Especially if this is something that won't ever change again. What should he do? Lalli has to feel some way about that as well, even if he's the more outwardly stable of the two of them.

He'd asked Klaus to go get something once they were safely out of the forest, momentarily leaving Lalli to step away and jabber at his other friend about how he doesn't know what he should get, but go look for something or someone who could do more than they could. Now that they aren't somewhere where his overly emotional personality can get them more stuck, he's not so worried about a little bit of his extreme worry leak out at Klaus. He's been gone for some time. Emil is trying not to let it concern him too much, but that's next to impossible.

Emil has it in his mind to find Honir -- he seems to like Lalli well enough, and he's a God. If anyone can fix this, he can...right? It feels like the best option they have available, and it's what he's using to try and squash the more present feeling of doom he's still fighting with. It's important that they find him, of course, but occasionally Emil stops in his leading to ground himself physically and mentally.

He's paused right now, turning to look at Lalli and study his face. It's obvious that no one would enjoy being blind, but for a scout...he knows his friend has to be internally scared, somewhere in there. )

It can't be much further. I'm following the compass. ( Yes, the compass is indeed useful in this situation, and he keeps reassuring Lalli that he's dutifully going where it points. This is accompanied by an involuntary squeeze of his hand, tone forcefully light but the shake it contains is still audible. ) Not much longer, I promise!

( At least, he hopes he can promise it. )

[skittering]

❰ make no mistake, lalli is fully aware of emil's inner panic. he's practically buzzing with it, something like static in the air around them for the entirety of their trek back, and it takes all that lalli has in him at the moment to bite his tongue (or more accurately, the inside of his lip) and pretend that yes, this is the shortest route home. to pretend he couldn't have gotten out of those woods faster if he were blind and alone, because emil's ability to read the compass isn't nearly enough to account for the way the trees and undergrowth subtly shifts to intercept them (the others can't feel it, but lalli's almost more aware of it than he is of the people to each side of him).

but eventually they were free, and emil pulled klaus aside and it was all lalli could do not to back up against the nearest solid object and breathe for a minute - but he held his place, and soon emil was back and reclaiming his hand and leading him off somewhere new.

which brings us to now. now they've stopped again, and lalli's fairly certain he's being studied, which is... fine. he's very much not calm about this, but he's also very accustomed to making sure nobody recognizes when he isn't calm, and now's no exception. he 'glances' off to the side, letting out a sigh through his nose. as patient as he's been with all of this reassurance so far, the second assurance of 'not much further' in what may very well have been the same breath earns a weary but firm, ❱ Emil. ❰ it's the tone of someone who might not be patient enough for too many more platitudes cluttering up the air, adding that much more to the cloud of chaos in his head. he used to be able to tune emil out somewhat, but sometime since they arrived here he's forgotten how to do that, so every single word the swede says is heard, comprehended, processed -

his hand squeezes a bit more voluntarily than emil's, a reassurance that he isn't upset. at least not at emil. upset about the situation, yes. the vague taste of blood reminds him to stop chewing his bottom lip. ❱

( text, day 73 | mid-afternoon )

[enflame]

Did you tell someone my hair is dumb ?

[skittering]

no

why

( action, day 83 | mid-morning )

[enflame]

( It isn't that Emil has been specifically bothered by his magic lately. He doesn't get to use it much, even if he makes small little lamps with it nightly. Some have magical abilities that are more practical and useful, which he'd argue that his is -- and yet it barely comes up outside of minor little daily needs for heat or flame. There's no need for cleanser abilities here, as far as he's aware. What is there to cleanse? What is there to fully ignite without fire damage or danger? In fact, that's all he'd accomplished with it the times he had tried to create any sort of orb that was bigger than dinner plate size.

And it's no surprise that Lalli would unlock some other form of magic outside of his runes before he would. Whatever that explosion was that happened when he was blind...it reminds him in hindsight of those small forest fires he started because of fear and lack of control. Even if they all came into being here with one magical ability, Lalli has the advantage of magic familiarity, even if it isn't the most easy to control or contain at times.

Honestly, even without the strange rules and limitations that Asgard has with regards to these abilities, Lalli is the first person he'd consult about anything related to magic, period.

The house isn't so bare bones now, with many boards going up. It's formed enough that Emil can't just turn around until he sees someone inside, he has to peer through slats in walls and knock on makeshift doors to find a person. Eventually, though, Lalli is found: )

Hey. Do you have a moment? ( Whether his planned request is possible right now is up in the air, but maybe they can talk about something at least? )

[skittering]

❰ he's actually in the living room - halfway, at least. he's sitting on the windowsill of one of the living room windows, something he won't have room for once they've gotten ahold of glass but for now, it's passably comfortable and lets him enjoy the breeze without committing to going outside.

his attention shifts to emil when those familiar footsteps approach, a moment's eye contact sufficing as a greeting before he casts his gaze back out over the grassy field. then comes the request, and his brow knits a little. ❱ For what? ❰ it's not a no (which means it's almost definitely a yes) - he just wants to know if this is a 'this door hinge needs adjusted and i need extra hands' kind of deal or something more like 'i want to talk about something neither of us are good at talking about'. ❱

( action, day 101 | late afternoon )

[enflame]

( When he initially thought about the reality of building a house, Emil knew that it would both be a long process, as well as an exhausting one. After a couple months working on it, the true weariness of it all is settling in. It seems that for as much work as he personally gets done in a day, the finish line is essentially just as far away.

Not that there hasn't been progress. His room is fully boarded, and there's a pile of wood against a non-windowed wall for making his platform bed. His personal project for the day was creating a seat for the window, and it was basically completed. It needs to be sanded and reinforced. Details, details.

It reaches a point that being in his room is basically menacing in and of itself, with every nail that isn't hammered in completely and baseboard that's sticking up just so beginning to get to him in a very irritating way. Into the living room he goes, a place where small mistakes don't matter personally. There's no need to focus on them.

Klaus is around somewhere, he notices, as one of his bags is on the table. Despite having some nosy compulsions, Emil isn't one to just go through someone's bag -- in this case, he doesn't have to be. The flap of it is open, some contents spilling forth. Nothing salacious (as far as he knows; he's not exactly in tune with all the details of what makes Klaus so scandalous), but that flask is half-hanging out. Right now the mental release is actually very appealing. He needs to unwind.

When Lalli comes in, he'll find Emil using his shawl as a half blanket for his legs, sitting on that couch his friend happens to find so ugly. The flask is tucked behind his knees, against the couch's back, with a small amount of its contents poured into mug. He unfortunately has nothing to mix this with, so it's just straight...burning.

It tastes like burning. )

Lalli. Lalli! ( He motions over to the couch, a foot tapping against the empty space in front of him as an invitation. If he's looking for more of a purpose to be there than that, he's not getting one. Emil himself doesn't know exactly what he wants, but the sudden appearance of his friend makes him immediately want to occupy his time. As irritating as he may be at the moment. )

[skittering]

❰ lalli, meanwhile, is on his way back from a half-day's scouting. his hair's wet and he's dressed in a long sweater (the closest he could find to a tunic) and leggings rather than his usual more practical attire - he actually cut the day short because of a particularly boggy area he got himself swamped in, so he dropped by honir proper to bathe and wash his clothes. these are what he managed to scavenge from the few spare articles of clothing left in their old room. the sweater was probably one of emil's, it seems a bit large on him.

now he's arrived at home, wet bundle under one arm, to be greeted with the utmost enthusiasm by emil. uncharacteristic enthusiasm, even. lalli slows to almost a stop as he gives the swede a brief appraisal, then - ❱ Hang on. ❰ and he disappears into one of the bedrooms. he's gone for as long as it takes to hang wet clean-ish clothes over the windowsill, then he appears again, crossing over to the couch to sink down (albeit a tiny bit warily) into the indicated spot.

it's the smell that puts two and two together (with 'two' being the mug and 'two' being emil's slightly flushed cheeks), and he exhales a breath that could've been a chuckle if he'd been any more emphatic about it. his eyes lift from the mug to emil's own for a second. then he asks, a bit dryly, ❱ What's the occasion? ❰ not 'where did you get that' or 'how much have you had'. just why, and whether it's celebration or something more akin to the incident the day they arrived. ❱

( text, day 110 )

[enflame]

Lalli, are you scouting ?

I have an idea.

( If he finds that ominous, then that's fine -- but it's not anything that dumb or worrisome. )

[skittering]

yes

i'm listening

❰ dumb or worrisome or not, he always finds it in him to at least hear emil out about these things. ❱

text; (day one-hundred fifteen, midnight)

[channellings]

hey gremlin
are you busy right now?
i've got something we need to talk about

[something extremely instrumental to klaus's health.]

[skittering]

what

[ text | october 8th | early afternoon ]

[lethechained]

[ The day has only just begun, but it feels almost as though her entire life has been encompassed by this setting, by this hectic rushing around that controls the whole city at once. Everywhere she looks there's more to do, more to help with, and she can sense the urgency of it all as though it's a palpable pressure against her body, against her mind. She does what she's able with a frame as fragile as her own, works with the delicate things and medical supplies and listens as best she can to the training they're willing to provide, quiet as a mouse for reasons that don't entirely align with her usual causes for keeping her own counsel.

She doesn't have time to stop, doesn't have time to set anything in stone even in her own head. It all builds up quietly, a hundred different half-made considerations floating loose in her skull until at last she finally allows herself a single moment to step to the side, tucking her narrow form into the space alongside a building to press a hand over her face and just... think.

By now she has her suspicions about which of her acquaintances will answer the call to arms. That's part of what has her so out of sorts - the possibilities, the risks, and who she knows will take them. (Whether she ought to take them.) Frowning down at her bracelets, she hesitates; others, she knows, must be just as busy as she's been. But there's no problem, is there, with leaving a message? As she reasons it she's already pressing the button at her wrist, mouth pulled into the sort of line that suggests a frown without actually having turned into one.

Short, to the point. No reason to mince words when it's Lalli; ]

You're going too, aren't you?

[ The question mark is a courtesy. ]

[skittering]

❰ the answer comes before too terribly long. ❱

too?

❰ yes, that's the part he's latched onto. because, ❱

you're not going

❰ as if he has room to say as much. ❱

( action, day 126 | mid-afternoon )

[enflame]

( The trepidation held by Emil with regards to this plant-collecting activity is very much still present. He feels he has a right to be sceptical -- though most plants seem to be harmless, as far as Emil is aware, the incident that left his best friend blind for more than a handful of hours. Even if it's a one in one-hundred chance that something like that happens again, he's waiting for his point to be proven: that this is all unnecessarily risky and dangerous, hypothesizing and whatever other science-y reasoning Klaus may have be damned.

And yet it doesn't stop him from coming on each trip, doing his routine job of lugging whatever clippings and leaves his friend sees fit to bring back. Emil takes as much precaution as he can, though, from thicker gloves to his tight under-covering from home. He's impenetrable; no plant that turns people deaf or covers people in spots is going to do such nefarious things to him.

Some of their previous spots have been much more green in colour, filled with ferns and non-flowering plants of many a variety. This spot differs slightly in being a tad bit more colourful, with the occasional brightly-coloured flowering specimen mixed in. It would be a lie to say that Emil's defences are fully up at the moment, taking them in when they come upon them in patches. They're certainly better to look at than vines and leaves and stems, as strange as those were as well.

It's when he sticks his nose too close to a particularly foul-smelling bloom, deceptive in it's presentation, that he comes to his sense that this is a mission he's not so sure about. )

Don't some plants have...spores that fly off of them? That we can't even see? ( He rubs at his nose, more sour for the bad scent left inside than the actual argument he's making. ) Next time we need to wear masks -- we could get some strange rash just by breathing near these things.

[skittering]

❰ lalli, meanwhile, hasn't touched a single one of the questionable plants since that first trip. most of them are harmless, especially to the touch, but he refuses to end a second trip trying not to lose his mind while his hovering friends and their jittering worry cloud up his feel for the forest.

that doesn't stop him from coming either, though. he always comes along, always scouts. sometimes he even points out an intriguing plant he hasn't seen before so klaus can grab a sample, but always at a healthy distance. emil wears gloves now, and that's a sound enough idea but lalli can't stand the way they dull him. as if he's turned down the volume on all tactile forest stimuli. he knows it doesn't make sense. it's why he didn't explain, just shook his head when gloves were offered and went along on his way.

now they've found a colorful sort of clearing, filled with plants in bloom. odd season for it, unless they bloom all year, but lalli thought that only decorative plants do that. emil doesn't seem to think quite so much about it, leaning in to sniff one it looks like, and lalli scowls mildly at how stupid that actually is - a fact that emil immediately seems to realize, worrying about spores. ❱

Don't have masks. ❰ then a vague shrug and, ❱ Could ask Honir. Dunno if they'd work, though.

( action, day 136 | evening )

[enflame]

( He had to be convinced to make it home. The throbbing in Emil's head eventually subsided, but in the moment it and his blurred vision were perfect excuses for his attempt to just lay on the ground. Klaus was there, helped him come to his senses...if that's what one could call it. The emotional wave that hits him as they make it to the clearing, the valley where you can just see the house on the top of the hill, gives him pause and conflict. He wants so badly to be inside and to lay down, feel safe and like the past...expanse of time, almost unidentifiable, didn't happen at all.

But it all did happen, and so the pull of home in his heart, beginning to combine with the vague static of magic toxicity, are blanketed with a sense of dread. This is all so much. He should be, and is, ecstatic to still be alive and to get that second chance (or maybe even a third, if what he knows of his origins here are true). Inside, though, he'll have to face another person who he owes the world to, and now even more, while he's still trying to push out the visions and sensations of what happened during the battle.

And despite all this, hypocritically, Emil wants to see him more than anything.

Going up the main hill, he can tell Klaus is still there. That's fine that he's close by, though if he's talking it's very tuned out. Walking isn't a chore with his headache gone, so he doesn't need any assistance. His energy is very much focused on upward movement, bracing himself against all the things he suddenly has to think about. Gratitude, guilt, just how tired he still feels. It might surprise the friend behind him that when he steps onto the porch and opens the door, there isn't hesitation. It's muscle memory, autopilot. If he turns off as much of his brain as he can, it isn't a chore.

He thinks this, despite the energy as soon as he enters the house feeling like an attack. It's as if the vibration of toxicity is replaced by a different cloud of sensation. Anxious, Emil's pulse quickens at the panic that fills his nervous system, but he's inside now. There's no going back. )

Lalli? ( Klaus is basically forgotten at this point. The living room is rearranged, like every soft pillow and blanket in the house has been moved onto the rug in a maze of its own hills and valleys. His voice is somewhat scratchy, throat still feeling raw from sickness earlier. His friend doesn't immediately come into his field of vision, but everything is being taken in and processed a second time. )

[skittering]

❰ believe it or not, lalli actually is in his field of vision - he just doesn't realize it. the finn feels no pressing need to make his presence known. whoever's footsteps those are, muffled through layers of blankets, they almost certainly already know where he is.

but then comes his name, in a voice that steals the breath from his lungs. all at once, the space under the blankets feels oppressive, suffocating, and he thrashes out with his arms and legs to free himself to sit sharply upright, eyes on the door.

no - on the man standing a couple of yards inside the door. a man he can barely stand to look directly at, because maybe if he looks too close he'll see the flaw in the illusion or delusion or whatever this is - yet at the same time, he can't tear his eyes away. he can't breathe, either, even less so than he could under the blankets. it was stupid, coming out. out here, facing the ghost or actuality of emil, he's lost all comprehension of the shape of his reality.

he's on his feet now, with no real idea of how or when that happened. he's on his feet and he's closing the distance between them, not entirely sure what he's going to do once he arrives - part of him clings sharply to the notion of shoving him, this man who dares to show up here with emil's face and voice and eyes, because how dare he?! but what ends up happening instead is a single unsteady hand lifting to rest feather-light on emil's cheek.

real.

lalli's teeth close hard on his bottom lip, his breath finally escaping in a shuddering exhale. the hand shifts to the back of emil's neck, pulling him in so the other arm can wrap hard around his shoulders in what's likely the tightest hug he's ever voluntarily offered in the entirety of his life. ❱

( action, day 143 | early morning )

[enflame]

( It's been almost a week, and Emil's mental state has moved closer to normalcy. The memories have been put into line, processed, swallowed. The head pain has reduced to about twice a day, and there's a small vibration he can feel before the real pain settles in. By all accounts, everything should be settling back into routine.

In some ways, it's true. Emil rolls over in the middle of the night, waking up for maybe the fifth time, and Lalli is there. A month ago, revisiting his memories at around the same time of night, they'd be in the same scenario. Otherwise, he'd know Lalli was there based on his signature stroke or poke of his head to act as an alarm clock.

Instead, his vision remains tired for different reasons. Emil had considered sitting Lalli down to apologize for everything he'd been through, but his lungs and throat tighten every time he tried. Now he's stuck in a paradox where he doesn't want their fragile relationship to be completely shattered, as it might be if he upsets the already very vulnerable status quo, but also doesn't think what is present is very deserved on his part.

Take Lalli, slightly curled around the top part of his bed. He'd love to reach out, stroke his arm, tuck his messy hair away. That would be too much of a gift, as if the presence of his friend at all wasn't already more than he could ever ask for. Even now, Lalli has taken to to hovering, protecting him. Emil can't tell him what to do (he wouldn't dare), but just seeing him there hurts. How he's still deemed worthy to be cared for like this, he doesn't know.

His eyes close again, but he's slept enough that even waking up at such an early hour isn't allowing for more sleep. There isn't any light peeking out from behind his curtains, so it's hard to say exactly what time it is, but Emil sits up anyway. He contemplates waking up Lalli in some reversal of what would usually happen, but it's likely he's up at how much Emil has stirred anyway. )

[skittering]

❰ for lalli's part, he has little to no realization that emil wants to do those things at all. touch his arm, his hair. things the swede used to do without even thinking, and now he just... doesn't. just like lalli deserves, but some part of him had hoped that just this once, he wouldn't actually get what he deserves.

and yes, he does still hover. still tries to do something, to simulate normalcy because the alternative is to just give up - but as each day passes and he reaches out in his little ways and runs into wall after wall, it's impossible not to start to feel dispirited about it all. he's doing what emil did, he gave space at first and inched closer and closer each encounter, but here he is laying beside emil and nothing is fixed. he can't remember how it worked, with him. why things were magically okay once emil finally ate beside him. he doesn't know what part he's getting wrong, or if he's even capable of getting it right.

maybe he wasn't really capable of any of this. maybe it's better for both of them, in the long run. but lalli is nothing if not selfish, and whether or not it's better for them, he's not done trying.

he hears it, when emil wakes up hears it all the way through the dreamless fog of sleep, and an eye cracks just slightly. watching. assessing. warily hoping that maybe something shifted in the night, even knowing that nothing did. when that fact is confirmed, he lets out a waking sort of sigh and sits up himself, stretching his arms above his head. then, without waiting for emil to feel obligated to say something, he slips out of bed with a simple, ❱ Eggs. ❰ he'll get breakfast started. ❱

action; (day one-hundred and fifty-nine, late afternoon)

[channellings]

[some time (most likely whenever lalli's out scouting) throughout the day, klaus sneaks his way into his two friends' room with a plan in mind: leave gifts and notes, book it the hell outta there before he gets caught. which isn't too difficult, thankfully, so long as emil doesn't catch him in the act. oh, what if lalli happens to come back early from scouting or something? y i k e s, wouldn't that be awkward as hell? he'll just pray to the gods he gets away with this—

but on lalli's side of the bed is a small white box adorned with silver and blue ribbon. inside, there's a handmade bracelet nestled among some tissue paper that's protecting the glass beads.

the note reads:]

𝘭𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪,

hey, so, i know everything went alright the other day with the edibles... but i'm still sorry, yeah? i should've tried to stop you sooner, blahblahblah. i'll start keeping the ‘special’ shit up in my room, that way there aren't any other mishaps. the cookies i left in the kitchen today for when you get back are fair game, though! eat however many you want. [damn his only having a pen on hand.] maybe try and share?

anyway, this bracelet is for you! for your birthday to be exact, although i'm pretty sure it's passed by now. oh well, it can be late! or it can be an early christmas gift? i don't know, but either way, it's yours. i hope you like it.

—𝘬𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘴

( action, day 160 | evening )

[enflame]

( The idea entered Emil's mind about halfway through their stay at the festivities. Maybe it was something about the atmosphere, warm and celebratory, that opened him up to it, but a larger part was this overall lightness that entered his stomach and spread outward through the rest of his body. That might have been the fault of the liquor he'd consumed. Not much, but at a faster pace than his previous exploration. This didn't taste like kerosene.

With the warmth came some mental gears turning, considering a lot of puzzle pieces he'd haphazardly collected and put together over the past few months, originating back even further. It was all so much, and there was an advised way of completing the task: just tell him. Tell Lalli exactly how he felt.

But that was hard. Then it was impossible. Now...if not now, then when? Previously, he'd considered putting it off into infinity, but right now Emil can think of nothing more than relieving himself of this weight in his chest, whatever may come of it.

The actual action of doing it, however, is somehow easier thought about than executing. Whether or not the feast is still going, their party is ended, and thus the trip back through Honir begins. There are several times during the journey where he'd like to pull Lalli into a stone corridor, or maybe take a pause at the base of one of the various hills. At every thought, a sharp spike of nerves get the better of him. It wants to come out, but still can't.

Then they approach their house, on the porch and close enough to turn the knob on the handle that he can't take it anymore. Looking at the home that is theirs, built almost entirely with their own hands, it becomes somewhat overwhelming just how strongly he feels. Quickly, his hand reaches out to grab Lalli's to stop him going further. )

Uhm. Just a second, okay? ( There's a slight tremor in his grip, anticipation getting the better of him and betraying his nerves. His eyes shake similarly, realizing that he's halfway committed to this confession but not at all sure how to actually do it. )

[skittering]

❰ something's wrong with emil. between his (presumably) keen assessment of his friend's expressions and the warm buzz lingering at the edges of lalli's mind, he's come to the conclusion that whatever is wrong is almost definitely harmless.

honestly, it may even be lalli's own fault. he knows of at least two instances since they arrived at the festivities that something he did or said came as some sort of visible surprise to emil, and the swede has this uncanny way of finding things to worry about even in positive situations. lalli could flip a coin over whether emil will let loose with whatever is on his mind or just move past it and get distracted by something else.

so it's not too much of a surprise that emil stops them short at the doorstep, really. lalli's gaze drops to the hand wrapped around his, then to emil's own gaze. the only reply aloud is a vague questioning, ❱ Hm? ❰ just to show that he's listening. ❱

( action, day 163 | mid-afternoon )

[enflame]

( After a few days of lying in bed after returning home, alive again, Emil couldn't take his mind being so stagnant of things to focus on. There would be a continuous loop of guilt and graphic memories when he'd slept so much he couldn't sleep anymore, and the only way to get away from it was to do something else. If only the house wasn't mostly done...there were small projects someone might want to take on here and there, but nothing big enough to require his constant focus, as an escape from his own head.

Eventually he decided to get on with an old idea of his, sprung from a visual Lalli showed him once while scouting. He'd thought it would be nice to open his large window, across from his bed, and have something more picturesque than the dips of semi-distant hills and valleys, so instead he's begun to carve out an oblong shape in the ground with a shovel, set on creating a pond environment close to the house.

With that period of awkward past, and then some, the project has made quite a bit of headway. The hole is dug, maybe requiring some more depth in spots, and now there's the task of creating the outer topography. It's awkward, hit or miss and requires some transport of plants he's sure won't kill or curse him, so this part of the task is coming along slowly and not so surely.

It's fine. He's never done this before, and thus he deserves a large margin of error, if you ask him.

But he's given up for today, frustrated by how it's not looking how he wants fast enough. Emil's at a point where he'd just give up on it and say good riddance, who wants a stupid watering hole next to their window anyway, but then he's left with a big muddy pit right outside his room; a failure he'd have to look at every time he opened the curtains until the grass covers it back up again. It's also a project not very congruous with the colder weather front moving in, so he's gone inside for a shower to freshen up and relieve the frustration.

Dressed again, yet not fully relieved of his sour mood, he skips going to his room after he's out of the bathroom. He doesn't want to look at that stupid half-pond -- no, practically a quarter-pond, right now -- even through the sheer of his curtains. The couch will do just fine, and Emil melts into the middle of it as soon as he makes contact. The warm water only made it more apparent how tense his muscles were as he leans deeply against the back.

The longer he sits, the less he finds to complain about. With as much good that's happened lately, it feels good to simply relax. )

[skittering]

❰ as soon as lalli discovered emil's intent to wallow in his mud pit for most of the morning, he took it as his cue to scout. scouting has fallen a bit by the wayside for a couple of days, but it can't anymore. he has a job to do, regardless of whatever it is that his personal life thinks it's doing.

but he's allowed himself the concession of coming home a bit early - for purely practical reasons, he argues, and the need to investigate the glowing strangeness of the residue he's found on more than one occasion now. but the samples of that residue are in the satchel he sets down as soon as he spots emil on the couch, leaving it leaning against a wall as he strolls over behind the couch to nonchalantly drape himself across the back of it on his front, his side pressing lightly against the back of emil's shoulders. one arm folds under his head, which he lays sideways to peer at emil. assessing his mood, though admittedly that has been pretty unnecessary lately.

after a few seconds, he closes his eyes to ask: ❱ How's the mud? ❰ because lalli is nothing if not a little shit. ❱

voice; dec 8

[draumstafir]

Lalli are you s̷̭͖̯͐̕ṱ̴̱̌̓̄̎i̷̟̔l̵̺̗̼̳̽͂̿͝l̴̰̩͈̫̓ at the ̴̰̖̟͒̐́͊ḫ̵͒̚ó̸̠̹̥̀ū̴̪͌͐s̶̡͇̤̼͆̎̚ė̶̖͆̕?̸̣̼̬͆̎?̷̩͉̤̖̀͐̊̌

[ reynir definitely sounds a bit frantic right now, even through the static. ]

[skittering]

❰ it takes a couple of minutes before lalli gets back to him, but then - ❱

Not for̷̤̞̍͗̓͌ ̴̢̺̗͈́̄̈ļ̶͔͍̘̘͊̀̌͠o̸̤̹̖͇͔͆̂n̴̢͎̤̺͚͑͒̅͠͝g̷͇͓̟̫̞̙̏̓̔͊.

( text, day 182 | late morning )

[enflame]

( It's not that Emil has some vested interest in new people coming into Asgard, but there's always some slim chance someone he knows happens to filter into this place, and that's always a curiosity. They're also usually accompanied by a little part of sorts, which he isn't one to miss out on free, easily accessible delicacies.

The plan was to look around, discover any familiar faces, eat and then take home a doggy bag for the house (more aptly, Lalli; maybe Klaus if he wasn't being social). But right after arriving, the snow comes down faster than he's ever seen it come down in Sweden. There's an initial excitement, but it quickly becomes concern as after a minute, he can feel the centimetres piling up under his feet.

Inside, he blinks while looking out one of the castle windows and piles seemingly grow in height between them. Maybe it's too dramatic a word right now, but he's effective trapped here. No one is advised to leave. )

I'm at t̶̼̦̭͍̱͎̰̥̱̒͌̑͑͑̑̒̕̕̕ͅh̸̦̗̝͔̗̱͎͎̥̪́͋͗̔͐̉͗̈́̕̚ẻ̶̞͚̟̳̜͎̭̬̖͐̾̋̂͐̀͐̏͝ͅ ̷̡̢̦͎͍̙̞̭̱̹͋̅̏̐̆̃̈́͌͌͠c̵͎̘͕̞̺̱̹̹͖̺͐̓̀͆̄̌̊̎̓̕ȃ̶̖̱̼̪̣͎̝̪͇̒̑̋̄̓̓͊͗͘ͅş̷̡̡̤͇̮̤̩͇̼͌́̈́̀̿̋̐͂̚͝t̵̢̤̗͍̠̺̙̤̖̙͛̀̌̄́̂́̉̆̈ḽ̶̢̨͓̞̤̥̳͉͆̍͗̄̆̑͐̐̇͜͝e̷̡̧͙̣̮̺̥̼̤̎̌̀́̌͗͂͆̂̚ͅ. The weather took a turn so the Gods say we s̴̟̻͔͙̳̘̲̃͌̌̔͊͐͛̐̄̕͜͜ͅh̷̡̨̛̯̦̤̦̭̳̹̖̓͂̀͗̽͗͂̈́͝o̴̦͔̤̫̪͖̝̩̺̍̾̊͒͂͋͆̀̕͜͝u̴̧̢̝̦̙̠̝͉̮͛͊̉̀̒̓̅̈́̈͜͝l̶̢̺͕̯͓̟͎̫̰̪̇͐͑̆̅̓̐̕͝͝d̷͖̮̼̯̤͔͉̦͎̣̉̓̾̊̀̇̽͠͠͝n̶̡̛̯͚̳̯̞͖͇̭̐̿̆͒̽̈̂̂̑͜t̵̢̧̛͇͙̬͍̣̼̬̟̑͆̈́̇̀̅̈̚̚ leave. ( A quick peek outside should be able to tell Lalli the details of the story. Who knows how long this will last -- not long, Emil hopes -- so it would be best to at least communicate where he is, and why he may not be back home for a while. )

[skittering]

❰ there's a few seconds' pause in which he does just that: looks outside, peering left and right in the sky in case he can identify which direction the weather rolled in from.

but then he's turning back to his cuff to construct a reply - one that he hopes isn't as garbled as emil's. ❱

on my way

❰ and that's that, for now.

but a bit over two hours later, another text comes through. (any texts sent lalli's way in the interim don't seem to have made it through.) ❱

bad terrain. still coming

❰ normally he could run this distance in less than an hour. now, he's barely made it halfway at best. would've been slower, without the compass to guide him. ❱

( action, day 199 | mid-afternoon )

[enflame]

( Well, Emil has certainly had a morning. Not being able to speak for three hours was a curse, and there's a residual ache in his throat simply from the strain of not talking. Anyone who knows him must also know that keeping his mouth shut and voice silenced is no easy feat, and to have his voice back is honestly a blessing.

By the time he gets back from Tyr, all the way to Honir, the residual grumpiness has mostly worn off. At least he did end up getting his ornament out of it, as well a handful of flaming wreaths he's got circling an arm as he steps onto the porch. It's then that he pauses when a shimmer catches his eye -- there's a glowing hand-print on the front door, plain as day.

With a cocked eyebrow, he enters the home to find a slew of them everywhere. Some aren't so shapely and pronounced; others offer the presence of a grip, like on the handle to their refrigerator, or a soft smattering of fingerprints, such as the ones that litter the table. These are far from the only glowing evidence fragments he can see. They're basically on every kitchen surface.

His first thought is that maybe they've been robbed by some magical creature, but the prints are too human. It's just as likely to be someone who lives here. It's a curiosity he plans to investigate (unless it's discovered to be Reynir; that's just a blessing to know where he is and how to easily avoid him), but the mystery practically solves itself when he turns down the hall to enter his room and the prints lead him there.

With wreathes deposited on the kitchen table previously, Emil opens the door to his shared bedroom and peeks in to see if the map continues. He can only assume that Lalli's inside, inquisitive when that is the case. )

A plant? ( Lalli scouts, and thus is around nature constantly. It wouldn't surprise Emil if he touched the wrong ball moss and was suddenly pseudo-radioactive. )

[skittering]

Tree, ❰ lalli corrects from where he sits crosslegged on their bed. a notebook sits open in front of him with half a page filled with harsh pointy script, a glowing pen sitting in the crease at the center. he sticks out a sock-covered foot to nudge the notebook closed (though he might as well have used his hand, there's already a set of prints on the cover), looking up to emil. ❱ By Honir's temple. It's the one with the garbage in it.

❰ a beat, then something seems to click into place. his gaze darts down to the glowing spots on his notebook, then sharply up to emil. ❱ You can see it? ❰ he couldn't see the glowing, when it was just the sap. if he can now, that's - confusing, but probably important somehow. ❱

( action, february 20th | just past midnight )

[enflame]

( Opening his eyes feels harder than it has in a very long time. After the few seconds it takes to get his brain to begin truly functioning, this startles Emil -- the last time it was so laborious to wake up, he'd slept for three days after dying. They shoot open now, and he's meet with darkness. Hurriedly, he tried to look back upon his last memory...it was simple; he'd just gone to sleep. And now he feels somewhat foolish, because all he's done is woken up in the middle of the night.

He struggles to a sitting position, pushing up from elbows that feel like they haven't bent in some time. Maybe he's getting some kind of illness...? He's not come across anyone with a cold in Asgard, so if that's the case then it's likely some curse that he's slowly being subjected to. If, anyway. He'd prefer not to think about it. Right now it's just some stiff muscles.

Lalli is there, and he feels bad that the motion likely disturbs him, but the idea of going back to sleep is so unappealing at the moment. It's strange that he's taken a nap at best, but he feels so awake at present. )

[skittering]

❰ normally, emil's stirring barely wakes him. it drags him enough into consciousness to vaguely recall who it is that shifts beside him, then he slips back into his dreamless rest.

this time is different. emil hasn't stirred in the better part of a week, no matter how urgently lalli tried to wake him. the finn has just been doing his best to drip spoonfuls of broth down his throat and make sure he rolls him onto his sides. he doesn't know how long it takes for laying in one position to get dangerous, but he doesn't want to risk it. then each night he curls in beside him, decidedly pushing from his mind the thought of the fox pup he and his grandma came across when he was nearly eight. they found it sleeping next to its mother's fresh corpse, looking about as desperately hopeful as anything lalli had ever seen in those woods. this isn't the same - he's less stupid than the fox, less naive, and emil isn't dead - but like this, he isn't quite alive, either. breathing, but lost in a place where lalli can't feel him. regardless of the sleeping form beside him, each night lalli falls asleep alone.

all of which is to say that the moment emil stirs, lalli's subconscious sounds the alarm. nothing should be here, this close, stirring - but then it clicks, and lalli's jolting half-upright too, too-alert eyes sharp with concern for the moment it takes to ensure that emil isn't rising up dead like last time, before a burning sort of relief fills the entirety of the space where his next breath should be.

a hand shifts with intent to reach out for his nearby arm, but it closes around a wad of blankets instead, unable to force itself to cross that distance. he can't force any part of him to do it. the best he can do, after a long few seconds of this, is a whispered, ❱ Hi.

( action, february 23rd | mid-morning )

[enflame]

( Emil has been good on his word: he told Lalli he'd go scouting with him during day trips, and thus far they've gone on a few excursions together. They haven't yet progressed to overnight stays outdoors, but more so of the "sunrise to sunset" variety.

Even those are likely shortened for Emil -- as Lalli is the kind of person who scouts more than any other activity, any expedition where they return home to the sky the same colour as when they left is an obvious handicap for Emil's sake.

His personal knowledge of scouting is that you usally go forth to report back on a variable of some kind. The destination may be known, but there's always at least the potential for some shift in information or terrain to be on the lookout for. These are the things he's kept in mind as they move through the forests of Asgard, though some days he feels like this is basically exactly what he was doing when walking around the Silent World of Denmark. He's not yet accustomed to the difference in perception, the need for a keen eye and not just moving from Point A to whatever Point B may be.

Right now, they've barely made it a kilometre into the woods. It's not totally unfamiliar to Emil; they've been in this direction before, though he assumes they plan to veer off in a different direction at some point. )

Are we going to a specific place again? ( All previous scouting adventures in Asgard have been Lalli leading him somewhere, staying ahead but always watching, assessing, critiquing. And yet when Lalli goes alone, it's usually with discovery in mind; or at least that's how it's been as of late. Emil wonders when -- or maybe if? -- he'll get that upgrade. ) I'm not complaining if we are. Mostly curious.

( Which is the truth, even if he's still green enough to complain about something eventually. )

[skittering]

❰ emil was good on his word. lalli hadn't planned to hold him to it. he'd suggested scouting together on a whim, because the swede has always wanted to be part of things (especially important things) and scouting is objectively the most important part of his day-to-day life.

lalli can't say that he's upset about it. it's a little jarring, maybe - the entire flow of scouting changes when he brings emil - but he likes the company more than he expected to. and besides, emil's getting better at it. quieter. less stompy. less of a glaring contrast with literally everything around them.

the question emil asks is... valid, if mildly irritating. his brow flickers into the briefest scowl before he tells himself that it's a fair question, that emil has no way to just know these things and it's not fair to expect him to. ❱

Regular scouting loop this time. Should come back out around Mimir. ❰ his tone's carefully unbothered, despite the thoughts crackling in the back of his mind. he'd thought he was doing something right by showing emil the video spots in person. it seemed like a thing that a sentimental person would appreciate. ❱ Looking for- nnh. Anything out of place, I guess.