westfallcorndog | Chat of Mythology

Now that spring has officially sprung and the ~~wonderful~~ dastardly winter spirit has been vanquished, the streets of the Nexus are once again packed with warmbloods and breathers. Which is alright by Harrowheart; it makes it easier to invite friends to a pleasant afternoon out. He'd contacted Viatorus already and convinced him to meet for a chat on culture in an arboretum in the Wilds. It's a pleasant little area of split wood fences, gravel trails, and fantastical trees, each labeled with little brass plaques that tell of their world and the culture that surrounds them.

While he waits he arranges a place to sit: A blanket on the ground to keep the dirt off of Viatorus' expensive clothes, books on the history and mythology of Azeroth tactically placed at the four corners to keep the wind from blowing the cloth away, and a picnic basket right there in the middle. He's dressed vibrantly in the same gaudy Hawaiian shirt he wore to the birthday party in the aquarium while he sits, casually listening to music from his phone as he gazes up at the lavender leaves of a weeping willow that's budding some kind of perfectly round, silver fruit.

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Harrow frowns at her reprimanding and mumbles something hard to hear that sounds a lot like "M'sorry, Isidor..."

It's easy to distract himself by turning his attention to the movement he catches out of the corner of his eye. His lips press tightly together and he watches Viatorus in thought and worry before he chooses to return his attention to Isidor.

"Your shoulder..." he says, gently brushing his fingers against his own. "It doesn't really hurt, I hope? I didn't really mean to..." He stops mid-sentence, clears his throat, and takes a step forward with his hands up. "Here, I-I can put some ice on it. Let me make it better? Before he wakes up?"

Her own frown deepens, both at his apology and his concern. She reaches back with a wince to touch the wound, drawing her hand back to look at the blood. "Not as bad as I got you, but..." Her eyes slide up to his. For the first time she doesn't look entirely furious. "I'll get it looked at, it's ok." Then her gaze flickers to Harrowheart's chest. "Is that going to... mend? Or scar?"

Edited 2016-10-30 20:07 (UTC)

Isidor's eye contact brings the hint of a smile to the corners of his lips, a tiny motion that's just enough to crease his eyes. Certainly enough to make him forget about their respective wounds. And so when she brings his up he looks down in total surprise and breathes the smallest chuckle.

"Wouldn't it be somethin' if it scarred? Then my front might match my back. And every time I took my shirt off I'd think if you. And folks might ask me what happened, and I could say 'I was in a duel to the death with Isidor Durant.' And they'll say, 'The Isidor Durant? The one men fear and ladies wanna be? Well I can see why you lost.' And I'll laugh and say 'Yeah, but some day we're gonna have a rematch and maybe I'll do better.'"

He shakes his head and with a little laugh says,"It'll heal like it never happened. But I'll remember. And maybe I'll tell the story anyway."

Though her expression remains mostly neutral, her suppressed smile and playful narrowing of her eyes gives away her amusement for someone watching keenly, as Harrowheart most likely is. "Do all your compliments come in indirect storytelling forms?"

He only gets a moment however before there's a yelp from nearby. "H-H-H-Harrowheart!" Viatrous slowly starts to scramble to his feet, prompting Isidor to roll her eyes and shake her head before going over to help him.

He parts his lips to answer, but before he has the chance someone is so energetically calling his name. Such imperfect timing; he can't help but be amused by fate. Isidor's eyeroll brings him a smile that only grows when he sees how frantic poor V is. He follows her to his friend, his arms spread wide to greet him as he rises.

"Viatorus! You woke up just in time. I think I was runnin' outta creative ways to say nice things about your sister."

He pats V on the cheek with a cold hand just to be sure he's fully awake. "You doin' okay, bud? You want another piece of that apple pie? The sugar might make ya feel better. I think there's enough left for you and Isidor to share before y'all head home."

It's just as well Harrowheart pats him on the cheek since it gets him to look away from the gaping wound in his friend's chest. The sight of it still has him looking like he's about to throw up. His hands flit around Harrowheart's arms. "Y-Y-You're- Y-You're a-a-alive!"

"Him being dead was upsetting you so I told him to stop," Isidor quips, just about resisting the urge to smirk. Moving closer to Viatorus, she rests a hand on her brother's back. "We should get you home before you faint again."

Harrow closes his eyes and snorts a little laugh at Isidor's unexpected joke. Glancing sidelong at her he mumbles, "Yeah, no one gets me up like your sister." He winks for her and lightly pats Viatorus on the back where his hand can barely miss grazing hers.

He jostles Viatorus gently and motions with an arm toward the picnic blanket. "You make Lyall carry them books home, all right? They're yours, hun. For keeps. Just don't lose too much sleep readin' 'em or your sister might whup me again."

Another pat on his back, this time heavier. "Now get yourselves back home safe. I'll see y'all around."

Oh Isidor caught that, her eyes widening but her brow turning quizzical, shooting him an expression of 'did I hear that right'. Thankfully for the two of them, Viatorus misses the joke by a mile, still stunned and faintly ill. He simply nods, heading to the blanket to retrieve the books.

"Lyall!" Isidor calls the guard and motions for him to help Viatorus, the man moving instantly. That gives her time to look at Harrowheart. "I guess we'll see you around the Nexus then."

There's even a hint of a smile before she goes to her brother, helping him and Lyall retrieve everything and get on their way.

Chat of Mythology

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