Harrowheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
westfallcorndog) wrote2018-01-14 09:42 am
westfallcorndog) wrote2018-01-14 09:42 am
Entry tags:
Here Because of You (For Isidor)
It's only been a few days since returning to the Nexus from Tamriel, but Harrowheart can't stop worrying about Isidor. She came out alive from everything they saw, but it's what they saw that worries him. He remembers what it's like, of course he does. How utterly unsettling it is to be a living person faced with monstrosities like that. The fear of it has faded with time, but he still remembers how sickening it all was the first time he saw the Scourge.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and his first thought is, 'Fuck me.' He still doesn't have Isidor's number. This is getting to be bullshit. Viatorus is going to start getting wise to how often he asks to spend time with his sister, and then the whole thing is going to come tumbling down. At least this time he has the excuse of an 'adventure' to cover for him.
Good, good cover. And honest, too. The last time they did anything interesting was when they went fishing, and after everything on Tamriel that feels like a lifetime ago. A little casual time with Viatorus would be great right about now.
He expects Viatorus will pull through for him. Of course he will. That's why he's already in the clearing lying on top of the picnic bench, his runeblade resting on the ground beneath it. Nothing here has changed since the last time she arrived, apart from the turn of the seasons... And the little area of ground that she flattened for a fighting ring. It seems Harrowheart expanded on her work, turning a circle of flat pounded ground into a large square of hard-packed dirt.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and his first thought is, 'Fuck me.' He still doesn't have Isidor's number. This is getting to be bullshit. Viatorus is going to start getting wise to how often he asks to spend time with his sister, and then the whole thing is going to come tumbling down. At least this time he has the excuse of an 'adventure' to cover for him.
V my man how are you doing? Are people being nice to you? Do I need to beat Peenia or Sajean up for you? Anyone at all? And when are we hanging out next?Good, good cover. And honest, too. The last time they did anything interesting was when they went fishing, and after everything on Tamriel that feels like a lifetime ago. A little casual time with Viatorus would be great right about now.
How is your sister? I need to talk to her about things that happened. Do you think you can get her in touch with me? If she can meet me tell her to come to the clearing where we worked on magic training.He expects Viatorus will pull through for him. Of course he will. That's why he's already in the clearing lying on top of the picnic bench, his runeblade resting on the ground beneath it. Nothing here has changed since the last time she arrived, apart from the turn of the seasons... And the little area of ground that she flattened for a fighting ring. It seems Harrowheart expanded on her work, turning a circle of flat pounded ground into a large square of hard-packed dirt.
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Eventually he turns to face Isidor with wide eyes and parted lips. He stares, stock still, and waits... Until in a burst of motion he points at Isidor and in an excited whisper asks, "What other cool shit you got around here?"
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Isidor hums and casts her eye around the room. Walking to the couch she slides back a section of the armrest to reveal a grooved wooden panel with USB slots. "That's for charging your phone or laptop," she explains. Moving to the shelves she presses a discreet button and panels shift, parting and lowering until books are replaced with a fine looking drinks cabinet.
Only once she's finished watching him take in those does she move to a space in front of the windows. She kneels, presses her palm to the floor and then rises again. As she stands part of the floor twists and lifts until a small pillar has risen out of the ground. Isidor flips the top to reveal a silver dish and then looks back to Harrowheart. "There are more, but a girl's got to have a few secrets, right?"
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He grips her arm and whispers, "Isidor, this place is so cool!" He laughs in amazement as he looks around the room with a renewed sense of wonder. When he's looking at Isidor again he elbows her gently and jokes, "Hope you always wanted a roommate, 'cause I just decided I live here now."
Then he points to the silver dish, then remembers his manners and instead gestures with an open palm. "Is that for rituals? Divination, like you did back at Naugus' tower? Oh, oh! If you do magic here, I bet you got a little shrine to your goddess, don't you? Can I leave her a little somethin' when I make din--"
He stops mid-sentence, stares, and whispers, "Kitchen." He must see it...
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There's a flurry of words that tumble excitedly out of Harrowheart's mouth, and although Isidor struggles a little to keep up, at least it's keeping her distracted... She seizes upon the brief silence to take a breath. "Yes, it's for magic like divination. Yes, I have a shrine." A longer pause, and then she gestures to the door she came from when she had coffee in hand. "And the kitchen is through there."
Through that door is a small space of sleek steel, glass and smooth black cupboards. The oven cooker and the sink are the easiest things to spot, but everything else seems hidden within the flawless dark doors. There are a handful of fresh herbs and fruit out on the counter, but even they look like they fell out of a magazine. A little exploring will find the fan that pulls out above the gas cooker, the fridge and freezer, the narrow pillar that slides out racks of neatly organised food, the set of kitchen knives that sit inside each other... Anything that can be made more efficient is more efficient. The coffee maker, kettle and microwave all slide easily out of cupboards, and back in, to keep everything orderly.
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His amusement doesn't fade as he follows Isidor into her kitchen, which is a bit of a mystery at first glance. There's the Earth-style oven and the sink, sure, but where is everything else? When he first begins opening cabinets it's with the shyness of a guest who's afraid to appear rude. He gains confidence as he goes, though, and when he's now and then surprised by fixtures (Look! The refrigerator is even in a cabinet!) he has to point and smile broadly. What, like she's never seen it before?
The microwave he meets with a strange lack of recognition. He's sure Viatorus has one of these, but he isn't sure what, exactly, it does. He reads the buttons, opens up the door, feels around inside. My, there's a little glass plate at the bottom that rolls! Interesting, interesting. He leans in closely to look at it and finds that the insides offer no clues to its use. There's no obvious source of heat, and it isn't cold inside (he thinks?).
Oh, but then it becomes so obvious what it is! He closes the door and smiles with such smug knowingness. He presses the 'potato' button, crosses his arms, and waits. And waits. And... Hmm. That's an awfully long timer. With a dismissive flop of his hand he presses 'Cancel.'
"We'll conjure your potato later. I wanna see your bathroom."
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The decision to put the microwave on with nothing in it gets a raised eyebrow, which is joined by her other eyebrow when he talks about summoning a potato. What does he think the microwave is, exactly? She decides she can lecture him later.
After double checking that the microwave is indeed stopped, she waves at him to follow her into the next room. "Do you always want to explore every inch of a place?"
She leads him to the main bathroom which keeps in theme with the rest of the house. White tiles are bright against dark grey stone and flashes of deep, warm wood give the spacious bathroom some life. There is a large shower and a free standing bath. It looks like there is very little in this room apart from the neatly folded towels. The mirror is a cabinet, and seamless drawers are part of the table supporting the sink.
As with the kitchen, Isidor stands back to let him explore. "There are shelves in the shower, too, but I don't have visitors round very often so there's not much in here."
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In the bathroom Harrowheart runs his hand over the rim of the bath. As he heads for the shower he says, "First time I ever saw indoor plumbing was in the Nexus. When I was growin' up we had to draw water from the well to fill up the bath. Then we heated it over a fire, and then we put it in the tub. Took a real long time to get clean that way. But the weather's warm enough in Westfall, so usually we went down to the creek and cleaned up there." He pats the edge of the bath and says, "I think the Earth way is better."
And then... The shower. He pokes his head in and observes where the water is going to come out when he inevitably tests the handle. Even though he knows the water is going to flow as a consequence of doing so he's still startled by it when it kicks on. He tenses, then quickly slams the handle to the 'off' position. He tries to hide his shame with a laugh.
"I've only ever had one shower before," he admits. "When I was in Steve's body and we all spent the night at Viatorus' apartment in the Nexus. It was a real nice experience in a livin' person's body, except for the part where the steam made me – him? – cough."
He looks between the shower and Isidor. The shower... And Isidor. He very clearly wants to ask something, but his shyness gets the better of him and he only quietly laughs.
When he gets to the door he pauses. "What do you say we get back to the kitchen and I make you dinner? We can crack open some of that alcohol you got, and I won't use it as an excuse to compliment you even once. We'll distract you from bad thoughts with a movie or a blunt, and then you'll head to bed. And I'll..." He looks around, shrugs, and smiles. "Wander around like a ghost and try not to scare you?"
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"That sounds... idyllic." And cold, and distinctly lacking in privacy. But she's not going to add those things and ruin a nice memory.
It's even stranger to see Harrowheart jumping at the shower. Seeing him so bewildered at all of this is starting to make her realise that there are quite a lot of things he really doesn't know about. She can't help but wonder if that makes her responsible here. Suddenly him being here to keep her safe feels somewhat uncomfortable. His awkward looks and shy laughter snap her out of her thoughts and she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously as he approaches.
Isidor laughs in surprise. "A blunt?" Her? She really must not be giving off her usual vibe for him to suggest that. Shaking her head in disbelief, she starts towards the kitchen. "Dinner is an idea, but... I don't have much in. We can order take away instead?"
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"Take away! I like it, I like it. Just no... Salads, or nothin' like that. I spent enough time suckin' the life outta plants on Tamriel. I want somethin' good. Somethin' tasty. Greasy. Good Earth food. You know what's around here, right? Pick somethin', surprise me."
He removes his arm from her shoulder. "I'll go fix up your livin' room furniture. And... maybe while we wait for the food you can... Lemme see your bedroom?"
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Glad she has an idea of what to get, she starts towards the kitchen as soon as she's free. Only for her to stop in her tracks when he casually brings up her bedroom. Gods, has she even tidied it?
She turns around and looks him square in the eyes. "The moment you step into my bedroom you will be incinerated with all the force of twenty wards." She lets that sink in, and without so much as a twitch of her lips, turns around again and heads into the kitchen to get a menu and order their food.
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He has to clear his throat before can turn back, but just when he's looking her way she fixes him with such a stare that he's positive she's going to reprimand him. And then she says... That. If his face could go any paler it would. Her look is returned with a wide-eyed stare of his own. Like a fish gasping for water he flaps his jaw pointlessly.
And then she's gone! She just fucks off and leaves him like that!
It's a few seconds before he hesitantly calls after her, "So... We're sleepin' together on the couch tonight, then?..."
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Order done, she gets them some beers and brings them in. She lets Harrowheart explore the many channels on the television while they wait. It's relaxing to be able to let someone else choose what goes on, even if his taste is a little questionable. When the doorbell rings she's soon coming back to lay out the small feast. Although the quality is peculiarly good, the spread consists mostly of burgers, chips and onion rings. Harrowheart gets a kebab and a burger with chicken, beef and bacon in it, while Isidor tackles a large beef burger of her own. Try as she might to be refined about it, there just isn't a nice way to eat food like this. Isidor just reties her hair and tries not to spill anything.
Suitably fed, Isidor clears away their rubbish to the kitchen, brings out some chocolates for them, and proceeds to lounge on the couch. At this point she's so sleepy it's hard not to be relaxed, which makes her sprawling all the more natural. She doesn't protest whatever Harrowheart chooses to put on, though she does make a comment about him possibly enjoying a wolf documentary. Soon, however, with the blissful simplicity of television and the drowsiness of a warm home and full belly, Isidor leans against Harrowheart and settles in for the night.
She doesn't notice herself falling asleep. It feels like an age since she's felt safe and comfortable enough to simply drift to sleep. And she is so tired... It turns out that's the easy part. In the world of dreams she doesn't have a friend to hug her, or a television to distract her. Even the freeing effect of the beer doesn't follow her here. Rather the opposite, in fact. She's trapped with pieces of memory, twisted recollections of wretched things. On the couch she starts with distressed mumbling, twisting and turning, trying to escape from her mind in the physical world. It only gets worse and the panic in her dreams is mimicked as she starts to whimper and flail loud, but slow, like she's moving through a swamp. Finally, with a gasp, she jolts upwards, gasping and crying, pushing away anything nearby. That's when she feels the body underneath her and turns to see ice cold lights in a dead face. It's when he eyes drift down to his arms, to the point they end without their hands, that she startles again. Desperately trying to move through her sleepy haze, her head spins frantically this way and that as she moves. She only manages to get from the couch to the floor, closer to the fire where she has to stop to try and breathe through shallow, sporadic gasps.
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Then Isidor starts to mutter, so he holds her closer. His breath chills her ear when he whispers to hush her, but it doesn't help. Her struggles get stronger and his tight hold only seems to make it worse. Suddenly she sits up and as he quickly jerks away he fearfully whispers, "Isidor!"
She's crying as she beats against his chest in her scramble to escape, but suddenly stops. He watches in slack-jawed worry as she turns to look him in the face, and he can already sense her fear at the sight of him. But then she sees his wrists, and his chest tightens when he knows exactly what she's thinking.
When she escapes he lets her, but the sound of her hitting the floor jars him from his guilty stupor. "I-Isidor..." The concern he wants to feel doesn't come with his words. He drops to his knees to be with her on the ground even as his hands are already gripping her shoulders and pawing at her face, patting her, smoothing out her hair. "Isidor, Isidor," he tries in a whisper. "You're home. It's me. Isidor..."
But he won't get closer. His hands can stay on her, if she'll let them, but he can't come any closer. Not with her looking at him like she did. Not with her so close to the fire.
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She tries to say something, but even she knows it's too difficult to understand through the muffled sobbing. Sniffling, she lifts her head and wipes furiously at her eyes. Composure. She needs to get composure. But it's not working... "I'm sorry," she repeats. "I don't usually-. It was just a dream. I-It felt so real."
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He carefully walks toward her on his knees and brings her into his arms when he's close enough. He sits behind her with his legs on either side of her and his head on her shoulder. His hands slip away and use the fireplace tools to stoke the fire, bringing it more strongly to life. She ought to have that warmth to comfort her, no matter how much his gut tells him to keep a distance from it. His hovering palms rub together in front of the fire, then spread apart to soak up some of the heat.
"Tell me what you dreamt," he whispers. "And I'll remind you that it wasn't real."
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"It's fine. It was just a dream." And yet her heart is still hammering, her mind still reeling from the sensations of danger, of terror, of failure. Where no clear image remains those feelings merge into a monster in their own right. "I thought I was at home. At the manor, but it was dark and I couldn't see anything properly. I... I was looking for something. I found some of the servants but when I went to ask them for help, they-." Her face contorts at the memory. "They were dead. They were... they were zombies. I didn't want to hurt them, so I ran away. There were hands, and bones, and I was underground. I found Viatorus, b-but..."
She can't help it. She knows it's not real. She knows this is stupid. They're just dreams, stop being a child. But she can't stop the tears. Burying her face in her hands, muffling her voice, she tries to continue. "Th-They were eating him. He was screaming. He wouldn't stop screaming." A pitiful sob. "He asked me to make it stop. He begged. And I... I just stood there."
It takes her a minute to continue. "I-I told him I'd get help. I left him. I left him. B-But then I found you. A-And they were eating you too. You needed help. But..." She goes silent. There's only the shuddering gasps for air and the sharp sniffling. Then she quietly keeps telling him, reluctantly. "Your soul was there too. You were both asking me for help. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything... But then your soul said he'd help me, and I... I got scared. Because he was moving to you. I tried talking to him but he wouldn't listen. So I... I..." Isidor's whole body tenses as she curls closer in on herself. She doesn't want to tell him, but she should. It's just a dream. It was just a dream. "I had your runeblade suddenly and I... I cut off his other hand. I didn't mean to. I just... I needed to stop him."
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He regrets asking. He really does. Not because he regrets knowing, but because he's suddenly so acutely aware of the fact that he can't help her through this at all. What does he say? What does he do? Does Isidor have to suffer alone through this?
Viatorus might be right above them. He could solve this. He could fix this right up, Harrow knows he could. But she already said...
He sighs a frigid breath from his nostrils and licks his lips. Isidor...
"It's just dreams," he whispers. "Just fake things you're scared of runnin' through your mind. Viatorus is just fine up in his room, my soul's safe in my runeblades – which are mine again, and my body's safe right here."
One of his warmed hands finds hers and he tries to wedge his fingers between hers for a tight squeeze. "And all of that's because of you. You're brave and smart and ornery, and you always fix everything. Anything less than that's just... Make-believe. Just bad dreams."
His other hand arrives bringing throw pillows and then a blanket from the couch. He tries to encourage Isidor to lie down rather than sit as she is, but whatever she does he's keeping his arms around her. A moment passes in silence, and while he isn't speaking he forgets to breathe. A long breath in precedes a quiet question.
"Did my soul really only have one hand?"
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It's just as well that he can't see her face when he goes on to compliment her. She doesn't feel like any of those things right now. The thought of letting him down knots tightly in her stomach. With her focus on that, she doesn't resist lying down. She pulls her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of Harrowheart's face and rests one hand under her cheek, the other on his arm.
She's so lost in her own thoughts that his question catches her completely off guard. For a moment she considers brushing it off, avoiding answering… but she knows her reluctance is purely selfish. She doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news, and it feels like everything about that week was bad.
"Yes."
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In a quiet voice he says, "So I got one hand's worth of a soul in me." Hmm. He's honestly unsure of what to do with this information. Quantifying how much or how little of his soul remains in tact is somehow different from simply knowing it's pieces.
The hand he had been observing rubs at Isidor's shoulder as he thinks it all through. For quite some time he's silent.
Eventually he whispers, "If it's enough of a soul to care about you and to be happy that you care about me, too, then it's enough."
He sits up slightly, careful as he can be not to disturb her position. "But we shouldn't talk about souls before you go back to sleep. You don't need sad shit. You need a distraction. Here –"
He wiggles out from under the blanket, and even though she's sure to follow him soon he tucks it around her to keep her warm. The room is well-enough lit by the ambient glow of the television and the embers of the fire and he has no trouble finding his way to her impressive alcohol cabinets. He stands with his arms crossed while his floating hands remove bottles with the most interesting shapes and colors.
His glowing eyes swivel her way and in the dim light he smiles. "An old man had a young wife, but he was havin' trouble pleasin' her in bed. He went to his elf friend, who, bein' old and wise, was bound to have the best advice on love-makin'."
He gathers up the bottles he's set aside and takes them to the nearest table, where he pops the top off one amber drink and sniffs it. Nice!
"So the elf says, 'What you need to do is hire a strappin' young man to wave a towel over you while you make love to your wife.' So the old man follows the elf's advice and hires the most handsome young man he can find."
Harrowheart returns to the liquor cabinet to choose glasses, and when he sits down at the table once more immediately gets to pouring two drinks.
"That night the old man made love to his wife while the young man waved the towel, but the wife wasn't pleased. Frustrated, the old man went back to his elf friend and said 'It didn't work! My wife wasn't pleased!' The elf nodded and said, 'All right then, try this: Have the young man make love to your wife and you wave the towel over her.' So the old man took the elf's advice again. That night the young man made love to his wife while the old man waved the towel over them. The woman hooted and hollered and had the best sex of her life! The old man grins, triumphant, and says –"
Harrow grabs his shot glass and knocks back whatever amber liquid he'd poured in there, coughs, laughs, and when the glass tinks against the table he shouts, "Schmuck! THAT'S how you wave a towel!"
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Whether or not he meant to disturb her, she shuffles to sit up when he gets to his feet. Wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she puts her back to the fire and leans against the couch while she watches and listens.
At first she raises an eyebrow at him rooting through her drinks, but the other soon joins it in surprise at his choice of story. Bringing out alcohol and talking about sex. Where is this going, Harrowheart...?
It might be the light-heartedness of it all, the stupidity of the story, or the flair with which he knocks back the drink and enthusiastically delivers the punchline. Whatever it is, Isidor laughs before she can think to stop herself. She's too tired to hide it, or stop it. So it takes a minute of laughter before she can say anything.
"Harrowheart!" What can she say? "I didn't know you liked dirty jokes!" A little more awake and a little more aware of herself, she quirks a smile at him. "Where did you hear that one?"
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"Course I like dirty jokes! Would I be a soldier if I didn't? What I didn't know is that you like 'em too! So what's it gonna be then? You hear another one from me, or you tell your own?"
One of his hands scoops up Isidor's shot and floats it her way. It hovers near her face so that she can't help but notice it's there. Would it be 'dirty jokes and shots' hour without the shots?...
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Harrowheart's prompt, however, has her hesitating. The drink less so. She takes it to stop him from holding so close to her face, considers it, and then knocks it back. She pulls a face, huffs out a sharp breath and then sets the glass down.
"I..." Cough. "I don't really know any. People don't tell dirty jokes around me. They either think they can't because I'm a proper lady, or because they're worried I'll make them regret it."
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"That just means I get to teach you some. Here, I got one you can tell you Tia."
He clears his throat before he begins. "A Westfall farmer man went to Stormwind to sell his goods. While he was there he stopped at a tavern. A local woman saw his rugged look and country dress and asked, 'Say, mister, are you a real farmhand?' The man shrugged a shoulder and said, 'Well, I've lived my whole life on a farm. I spend my days mendin' fences, tendin' cattle, and tillin' crops. I'd say that makes me a real farmhand.'"
"The Stormwind woman nodded and pointed to herself. She said, 'Me, I'm a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. No matter what I do, they're always on my mind. When I lie down by a creek or stare up at the stars or read novels, everything seems to make me think of being with women!'"
"The farmhand nodded and the lesbian went her way. Another Stormwind local sat down near him and said, 'Gee, Mister, are you a real farhmand?' To which the man replied, 'I always thought I was, but I just found out I'm a lesbian.'"
Fool that he is Harrowheart chuckles at his own joke. "Maybe not dirty, but probably not the sorta story your parents would appreciate."
As he pops open another bottle of a new alcohol he says, "Tell me a joke that would make a Durant laugh."
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This time his story gets a smirk that's almost a snort of laughter. "I think Tia would like it though. I'll have to tell it to her sometime."
She downs the drink, coughs a couple of times and sets the glass down. It's well timed to help her deal with Harrowheart's request. "A joke that would make a Durant laugh?" Her eyes slide off into the distance as she tries to recall the last time she saw someone in her family laugh, other than Viatorus. "Um... Usually we laugh at one liners. Come-backs and witty remarks..."
Ah, but then she remembers something. Her eyes turn back to Harrowheart. "Wait, I think I remember one Oraskis told an age ago. Right." She clears her throat and folds her hands. "Once there was a lord who came to the most powerful sorcerer in the country and said, 'Please help me. There is a witch in my lands and she is turning all the young men into frogs and all the young women into goats. I will give you all the gold I have to get rid of her.'
The sorcerer shook his head and said, 'Your gold is not enough.'
Distraught, the lord turned to the lord of the eastern lands for help. Both of them went to the sorcerer and the lord of the east said, 'Please help. There is a witch in his lands and she is drying up the rivers and emptying the wine cellars, and she is sure to come to my lands next! I will give you all the gems and jewels I own to get rid of her.'
Again the sorcerer shook his head and said, 'His gold and your gems are not enough.'
Frantic, they turned to the lord of the western lands for help. He agreed, but he was an older, harder lord. He stood in front of the sorcerer and said, 'You have been offered gold and gems to help get rid of this witch and still you do nothing. I order you to get rid of her or I will send my entire army to get rid of you! My siege engines will tear down your tower, my wolves will tear apart your horse, and my assassins will make sure you are dead!'
The sorcerer was quiet for a moment and then replied, 'You can barter all you like. You can offer me all the gold and gems in the entire world. You can threaten me with your mighty armies. But I'm still more afraid of facing my wife!'"
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His howl dies down to a chuckle and a sparkle in his eye, and he takes another shot. Whew! Whatever that was, he liked it! He tips his empty glass Isidor's way.
"Ain't that just an Oraskis story? You know, I saw him tryin' to avoid his wife at Viatorus' engagement. Poor guy. Guess we know where Poenia gets it from though."
Harrow leans back and stares at the ceiling as he thinks of another. "Wish I had a good joke about rich people to rile you up, but I don't think I do... So how about... How about one more dirty one? Then we can knock back a few more shots til you're tired and get you back to sleep. I've been told you got some kinda job durin' the day?"
He scratches at his side burn for a moment, then turns his attention to Isidor and grins. "Got one. Okay. So, a man and his wife ran off into the woods in the black of the night. They were both randy, and even though they couldn't see each other they decided to get physical in the dark. After a little while the man comes up for air and says, 'Damn, I wish I had a flashlight!' And the woman says, 'Me too. For the past ten minutes you've been eatin' grass!'"
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