westfallcorndog | Runic Research (For Felix)

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felix

Runic Research (For Felix)

The small forest clearing Harrow now sits in is not new to him; he'd found the same place once before when he thought he might be able to teach frost magic to Steve. It seemed like it might be the perfect place to meet Felix, too, for a little bit of magical testing and theory. Plenty of privacy from the thick pines that traced a circle around the grove, a split rail fence encircling it, a sizable clearing to move, and a conveniently-placed table with benches off to one side.

He's brought with him a pitcher of water and a plate of bread that wait beside each other on the table, untouched. He expects Felix to arrive soon – they had agreed on it, after all – and so sits watching the path into the clearing. He looks tired, but being dead has a way of doing that to anyone. For whatever reason he's decided that today's discussions should be undertaken in his suit of blue Scourge armor and flowing red cape. Certainly a shift in appearance from the 'draugr in a floral shirt' he met Felix as. His runeblades, rather than being chained at his belt, are resting across his legs. The blue glow of the runes thrums eagerly, contrasting Harrowheart's dead, dull expression. It seems they're anticipating this more than he is...

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Felix leans back a bit as Harrow scoots closer, unaware he's doing it. He just knows he's keeping a wary eye on the dead man's growing... enthusiasm.

Which is fine in theory, the whole idea is to come up with a plan they're both satisfied with, but Felix retains a quiet level of distaste for what he's getting into here.

He even hesitates over answering Harrow's very simple suggestion, his instinctive reaction of yes, favor! warring with reluctance over the source. His agreement is reduced to a stiff little nod, just short of jerking his head.

"The easiest way to find a black one it to take it from a necromancer, though. A rogue one, that is. Skyrim isn't exactly short on them, but... I don't know that I'd burden you with the task." Does that sound as weak an excuse as it feels?

"A necromancer, huh?" Harrow's lips purse and his eyes narrow, now more focused than ever.

"I... Don't wanna ask you to do more work than ya need to, but I don't know if I oughta risk buttin' heads with a necromancer from a world I don't know. I'm a necromancer too, but the difference is I'm also undead. I dunno if I'd be susceptible to their magic, and I ain't sure I wanna chance it."

He pulls a watery, guilty smile for Felix. Looks like he won't be burdened with that task after all.

Felix relaxes more than he intended to show. It's not concern for Harrow that pushes him to take that job for himself (although if Harrow got hurt it would upset Jim). In truth he doesn't think much of the average necromancer in his world and doesn't believe they could go toe-to-toe with someone on the lich end of the undead power scale.

But give Harrow the chance to dip into the repertoire and toolset of Tamrielic necromancy, and who knows what he could turn it to? However open and friendly he usually acts, Felix does have a mage's sense of the need to keep knowledge safely partitioned.

From other people, obviously.

"That seems wise. I've dealt with the type before, it shouldn't be any more difficult than usual." Difficult and dangerous enough: it's never been his favorite work. But there is an unkind pleasure in it sometimes.

"I'm, ah, more concerned with the actual negotiation. I don't know how directly you're used to communicating with your blades...?"

Harrow lets out one deep guffaw, tossing his head back as he does. He looks down at his blades after, then back to Felix.

"How do you communicate with your hands? Same as that. They're just part of me. They know what I know, and I know what they know... Mostly, anyway. They know everything we just talked about, but..."

Oh, great, he's climbing over the table to try to whisper into Felix's ear. "What happens if you give 'em the soul but they don't cooperate?"

What no Harrow stay on your side of the table. Felix leans back until his brain kicks in and he shuffles sideways, eyeballing Harrow all the way. It's a very special expression he's wearing right now, equal parts grimace and plaintive disbelief.

He composes himself, or at least shakes his head.

"We won't-" he glances between Harrow and the blades; lowers his voice to a murmur. "Won't be taking turns to hold up our end, here. These kind of contracts are binding - truly binding. I... actually haven't seen a daedra try to back out of one, come to think of it. Perhaps they just know better. It certainly never works for mortals... living or otherwise. I doubt your blades would enjoy the result."

Harrow returns to sitting more normally, giving Felix all the space he seems to need (but probably not as much as he wants.) He nods at what he's been told and once more puts a hand on the flat of one axe.

"I feel like we got a lot to think about. Is there anything else I oughta know, or anything else you wanna know? Or is it time we go our own ways?"

If he’s going to ask this seems as wise a time as any. While he still has everything to offer Harrow, and before ignorance of the answer lands him in any trouble. Maybe he’ll think differently after asking but the little jolts of adrenalin stemming from this conversation are starting to have an effect. His familiar's still relaxing in the grass by their feet and that's reassuring, but human instincts react faster than intellect.

Felix shrugs, and unless you’re watching his body language closely it looks quite casual. “Just one question for now, because I’m curious. What is your interest in Jim, really?”

The question brings an immediate and good-natured smile to Harrow's face. He rolls his eyes, though not at Felix's expense, and shrugs one shoulder playfully. It doesn't seem he's offended in the least by what he was asked. Either Felix is in luck or Harrowheart is truly a master manipulator...

"Jim, shoot. He's funny, ain't he? He's real sincere about havin' a good time. He goes a lotta places, he's seen a lotta things. Lotta people. He's got an open mind. I always feel like I'm hangin' with an old friend when I see him, even though we ain't known each other that long. Shoot, about a year now? I met him last fall at that Hallow's End – Halloween? – party someone was hostin'."

He stops for a little chuckle and another roll of his eyes. "I was so drunk. I embarrassed myself pretty bad, but he didn't hold it against me. I think that's what I like about him. He doesn't hold nothin' about me against me."

Harrow glances left, then right, then leans in just a few inches closer to Felix. "I'll be honest with ya..."

This is it, right? The subterfuge? The evil plans? The machinations?

"Iiiiii kinda had a crush on him for a while." He cups a hand to his cheek and laughs self-consciously. "Shoot, I sound like a stupid kid when I say it like that, huh?" Then he shakes his head and folds his hands and shrugs his shoulders. "I don't anymore, though. Like him that way, I mean."

Relieved by the non-hostile reaction, Felix is listening intently all the way through, without even flinching when Harrow leans in again. He doesn't dream of interrupting, not when he's busy taking in every hint as to Harrow's sincerity about this. He's just disappointed when it looks like the death knight's about to spill the whole truth and instead it's... well, a small revelation, enough to make him frown with disbelief and distaste for a second before he smooths his expression.

On the one hand, the parts about Jim ring true. That's the captain's charm, isn't it? His ability to light up the room, bring a smile to the coldest, deadest face. Felix considers himself dangerously open-minded, but he's not Jim.

After all, whether he ever accepts it or not, Jim's a hero, and Felix values his own skin far too highly to match that. There are precious few people he has the will to despise on more than a surface level, but he's not about to disregard what they are. He's not sure he can buy an undead creature having a simple and honest (harmless?) infatuation even if it is with his dashing, handsome, incredibly selfless boyfriend.

"I see," he says quietly, thinking fast. Then he lifts his eyebrows, adding, "Why not? He hasn't changed that much in between."

Harrow laughs self-consciously, very aware of what his answer is going to sound like. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clears his throat a few times. He shrugs one shoulder, reluctant to say... But it wouldn't be fair to lead Felix on like this, especially when the man is going to do him such a huge favor.

"You're gonna think I'm a terrible person," he says, forcing a smile despite his discomfort.

It's a long wait before he finds the courage to tell the truth.

"I... I don't really remember the, uh... The circumstances, but I think it happened back when we all got our bodies switched out by that Dr. Hill guy. Were you around for that? I didn't know you back then. A-anyway, uh... I think that's when I got a look at Jim's stomach, and..."

Harrow's face twists up with guilt and discomfort. "I... I guess I always imagined he was buff under there, y'know? Strong. But he's so... He's so... doughy."

Suddenly he hides his face in his hands and begins to shake his head. "Don't tell him, man. Don't tell him I think he's doughy, but I just can't do it. I can't get into a guy that ain't ripped. He can't do crunches in space, Felix!"

Remorsefully he lowers his hands and in the most solemn of voices he repeats, "He can't do crunches in space..."

Looking down at the table he says, "It's a good thing someone else is interested in him. Poor guy..."

That first warning just makes Felix raise his eyebrows and wait patiently. If it says so much about Harrow then all the more reason he wants to hear it.

But as Harrow reluctantly lets slip the awful truth, sentence by sentence, the conjurer's expression turns from an attentive frown to startled indignation. Doughy? Doughy? Okay so it's not Jim's most attractive feature but he has so many and who's this walking corpse to judge anyway?

Also: "That's it? Some ridiculous little thing is all it takes?" He looks at Harrow as if he can't quite believe it's that simple. That a dead man would really care about such a minuscule flaw in someone as fantastic as Jim. Clearly someone listened too long to Ixis Naugus in his bodyswapped rantings.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. He shouldn't argue reasons his boyfriend should be pursued by death knights. Loyalty hasn't quite overridden his sense of pragmatism here. He catches that last comment too, eyeing Harrow with brief suspicion. "Oh, he certainly won't be short of attention. You needn't worry."

Harrow lowers his eyebrows defensively when Felix challenges his own shallowness. He's primed to retort when Felix says something that softens his features and even brings an unexpected, tiny smile to his face. Okay, maybe less a smile and more a smirk. A knowing grin.

"Yeah, y'know, since I figured out he's with someone – whoever that might be – I guess that made him a little less attractive too. I ain't much of the homewreckin' type. Unless you want me to start overlookin' "ridiculous little things" and start talkin' about magic hands and not havin' a gag reflex with him again?"

Okay, granted, he's probably still going to do that, but Felix doesn't need to know. But saying that feels so damn catty. He ought to end it there, he knows, and let Felix stew on that, but he can't make himself be like that. Not with Jim's 'mysterious someone.'

"Plus," he says, shoulders slacked, defensiveness gone. "I know Jim would never really get with me. Even if he were single, and even if I asked. I'm not as dumb as I act, man. I know what I am. I know I'm never gonna get with anyone who ain't dead or doin' it for some nasty fetish. It's why I never made a move. I didn't need to hear him tell me that the whole idea makes him sick. So let me have my dumb excuses, alright?"

All right, it's confirmed. Harrow's not only well aware of their relationship, he's more than capable of using it to make a point. Felix draws his mouth ruefully, shakes his head a little in embarrassed acceptance. He can admit defeat.

What makes him frown uncertainly is when Harrow's attitude shifts: shoulders slumping, that grin vanishing. The suggestion of honest emotion - vulnerability, even - almost comes out of the blue as far as the conjurer's concerned. It's disquieting. He even feels unexpectedly guilty, called out for pressing the question when the answer is bitter and obvious. Truthfully, he doesn't want to consider what it might be like to be undead and still feel some humanity. He admits that to himself. It's easier to think Harrow has nefarious desires than any genuine need for affection.

Maybe it's the blunt simplicity with which Harrow spells it out, pre-empting any disgust or hostility Felix could have expressed. That or the reminder that however surprising it is, he's still Jim's friend. Either way Felix has no argument to offer.

"Very well," he says, subdued now. His familiar looks up from the grass and whines at them. Felix clears his throat and tries to figure out where to pick up from that. "I... suppose I've no grounds to complain."

Not the best place to leave matters, but he'll take safety over grace any day. "So, ah. I'll contact you when I have the soul in hand?"

A change is subject is openly welcomed regardless of its abruptness – perhaps because of it. It makes it easier for Harrow to smile, which is always preferable to self-loathing, though not always easier. With one serious nod he agrees, "When you've got it, I'll be here, and so will my blades."

He goes to offer a hand, but as he begins to move it across the table he realizes Felix probably is in no mood to touch him, especially given how flighty he was at earlier closeness. Instead he nods again and stands, then busies his hands by dusting off his shirt where it touched against the table.

"Safe travels." It seems like a fair goodbye for a man with Felix's mission.

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Runic Research (For Felix)

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My paid icons lapsed, pretend I used the ??? one

I'll just doodle them in

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