westfallcorndog | Here Because of You (For Isidor)

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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.

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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She laughed! He succeeded! The warmth that fills him is almost like living again. He grins so proudly as he begins to pour himself another drink. "Joke? Who said it was a joke? That old man who couldn't bang was my brother Lawrence!" He winks before he laughs again. He downs his drink and once more coughs. This stuff is stronger than he expected!

"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?...

She shouldn't laugh at that low blow at Lawrence, but... it's a low blow at Lawrence, of course she's going to laugh. Besides, Harrowheart said it, not her. She's allowed to laugh at that.

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."

Harrow begins to pour her another shot, smiling all the while as she explains her sad, dirty-jokeless life. He straightens up and his smirk turns smugly proud.

"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."

Again Isidor raises an eyebrow, but this time she's already taking the drink when it's offered. She waits and considers her glass, idly wondering if she remembers which drink this is and why she chose it, while she listens to Harrowheart's story.

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!'"

Harrowheart holds off on drinking while Isidor speaks. She's got his full attention, and it shows in the way leans closer and closer through the failures of the story. Can he predict the punchline? He tries, but he fails. When it finally concludes he tosses his head back and brays a long, loud, "HAAAAA!"

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!'"

Is it an Oraskis story? The seer does like to indulge in marital jokes quite a lot. Isidor shrugs and nods. "I guess that's why he likes to tell it."

Harrowheart reminds her about work and her lips thin. Her mind tries to recall her schedule out of habit, but it's too fuzzy. Not that it matters. If she can survive the week in Cyrodiil she can survive anything. If some gets offended by something she does, they can get over it. With that in mind she turns her attention back to Harrowheart's storytelling.

At the punchline Isidor covers her face with her hands and groans, but when she pulls her hands down she reveals a smile that she just can't stifle. She slides over her glass for him to fill. "That is dirty. You could knock out a few of my relatives with that. I'm pretty sure my grandaunt would faint."

For a second there he's wondered if he's gone too far, but when her hands come away and she's smiling his brief worry turns to a proud grin. He's done it again! Two smiles in one otherwise traumatic night! He's all too happy to fill that glass for her.

"Faint? Shoot, sounds like your granduncle don't show her enough of a good time."

The shots and the jokes keep coming, but it's only a few more drinks before Harrowheart begins to stumble laughingly over his own stories. He forgets a punchline only to remember it at the end of the next joke. Eventually he has to recognize that he's blazed past 'tipsy' directly into 'smashed.' Lying on the couch, he encourages Isidor to settle in with him and get to sleep. The words are hardly out of his mouth before he takes his own advice.

Turns out when you're dead, you sleep... Well, like the dead. He doesn't move, doesn't breathe. He's total dead weight holding her around the middle, which might be something of a challenge by the time she wakes up and has to wiggle out of his grip.

If she tries to wake him, she'll find it's pointless. He's much less asleep than unconscious. She has a few minutes to either settle in or go about her day before he raises his arms to rub at his face, utterly forgetting that his hands aren't attached. He smears his wrists across his eyes, staining them vaguely rusty before he realizes his mistake.

He sits up in a daze and looks around. "Izzadorrrrruh," he groans. "Why'd you let me get druuuunk..."

The more they drink, the more they laugh, the further back she pushes all thoughts of caves and death. She's still tired, though, which means that aside for the odd contribution of a joke or a quick witted comment, Isidor ends up simply smiling warmly at Harrowheart for most of the night while he chats away. Eventually though, they both have to turn their thoughts towards sleep.

Unfortunately for Isidor her past self was as organised and practical as ever. The dawn hasn't quite cracked when, somewhere, an alarm goes off. Unlike Harrowheart, Isidor does not sleep heavily enough to block out the irritation of an early alarm. Moving to turn it off, however, is not as easy as she initially expects. With a mixture of wriggling, pushing and flailing, she gets out of Harrowheart's grip, landing on the floor with a slight thud. Sitting on the cold ground with a sore head, a sore backside, and an alarm still screaming at her from somewhere… Isidor realises that today is going to make her pay for last night's recklessness.

By the time Harrowheart stirs she's showered, clothed in a smart business suit, and made herself more or less presentable. Her clothes, hair and make-up are all on point, but her expression and the way she moves as she gathers her things give away how bad she's feeling. She shushes Harrowheart as soon as he speaks, waving a hand at him.

"Shhh, the aspirin hasn't kicked in yet." She heads to the kitchen and returns with two glasses of water. One she sets down in front of Harrowheart, along with a small assortment of foil wrapped tablets. "I don't know if they even help you, but…"

She barely stops before she continues her rushing back and forth. In bare feet, of course. Right now the sound of heels on her floor would almost certainly crack her head open.

Harrowheart blinks hard at the sight of Isidor already dressed. He mumbles, "How long have you been awake, and how do you look so good?..." But before he gets an answer, he gets... Pills? He pops the packaging and drops a handful of the pills into his hand, considers them, pops them in his mouth, and crunches down. The bitter powder inside coats his tongue and he gags, then falls back on the couch coughing. His floating hand hurries to pour some of that water into his mouth to cleanse his palate.

After a final hack he blinks again and half-heartedly laughs. "Yeah, that woke me up. Shoot..."

He rises, and like Isidor shuffles quietly through the apartment. He heads for the kitchen muttering something about how he meant to wake up before her. And then, louder, "Breakfast. Gotta make you breakfast." Something-something "sleep with a lady," something-something "make her breakfast." That's when he opens her fridge and remembers – Oh, right. They had to order out because she had no food.

Okay, time to follow her around watching her morning ritual, then. Maybe he'll learn a thing or two about being a CEO? He gets to tying up his wrists as he follows her and as he does asks, "What do you do, anyway? At your job, I mean?"

Whatever Harrowheart says to her in his sleepy daze is missed as she rushes back and forth. The coffee maker is soon switched on and working while she puts herself together.

Isidor hastens to her bedroom to retrieve her earrings, which she puts on as she goes to her study to look over an email open on her laptop. Her study has muted golden wallpaper on one wall to warm up the black, white and golds that dominate her home. Behind her desk she's flanked by two glass cabinets with ornaments that include an exotic looking knife, a reptilian skull, a colourful headdress, and a box with a beetle on top and hieroglyphs all around it. On the opposite wall a bookcase holds an impressive library while the doors seem to have no visible handles.

She looks at Harrowheart to make sure his question is serious and honestly interested before she looks back to her laptop and clicks onto another email. "I'm a branch manager for one of the family companies. We specialise in security solutions, but we also provide emergency medical or transport services for our clients." She straightens and looks at him again. "I make the big decisions, keep everything running smoothly, and take the fall if anything goes wrong."

Walking past him to collect some papers she adds, "I don't let anything go wrong."

Isidor enters her bedroom and Harrowheart very much does not. He's not about to be obliterated by the strength of 20 wards. Or was it 100? Fortunately she's out and powerwalking through the apartment in record time, and he can take up his baby duck routine once more.

Under normal circumstances he might stop and appreciate the decor of the study, but right now he's trying his hardest to figure out what a 'branch manager' is. Security solutions makes enough sense, fortunately. She's off on her hurrying way and he mutters, "Course not," as she passes. Then he calls after her, "You ever cheat and use magic wards for security?"

He remains in the office after she's gone, because he's come to accept that he can't keep up with her. Instead he considers the relics in the glass cabinet. "Hey, this ain't a dragon skull, is it? It's some kinda baby crocolisk, right?"

She waits until she's back in the room to answer him. Normally calling to each other would be a good way to save some time, but this time she's thankful for what quiet she can get.

"No. No magic if there's no magic," she tells him as she flicks through a couple of files. "Cleanup operations are the worst. Nobody wants to have to make sure magic hasn't gotten out into the general populace..."

She looks up when he talks about a crocodile (she assumes). Her eyes flick to the skull and she smiles. "A dragon of a sort. It's a Komodo dragon. There's nothing mythical about it, but..." She shrugs. "I kind of like that it doesn't have to be magical to be deadly, to be feared." Moving a few papers again she adds, "It's a bit like we've both earned the right to be called dragons."

Komodo dragon. Not something he's ever heard of. He listens as she explains, but in the end he's not sure he's any more enlightened about the lizard. About Isidor, though, maybe. She takes her reputation and self-image so seriously. He stares at the skull a while before her movements catch his attention and take him away from his thoughts. He smiles at her sentiment.

"I like that you like bein' feared. And one of these days you're gonna like bein' deadly, too. You'll get used to it, anyway. Shoot, maybe next time you've gotta be deadly you'll bring that big ol' dagger along." He taps the glass where the strange knife rests in the cabinet.

Edited 2018-02-09 05:08 (UTC)

Her eyes roll at him and she shakes her head, stuffing the last of the papers into her bag. "I don't like being feared, Harrowheart. I like being respected, and not needing to be deadly."

Now that that's all packed up, she turns on the spot, scanning around for anything else. It looks like everything she needs is in her bag. "Right. I think that's everything." She grabs her bag and brings it through to the living room, she disappears into her room for a moment but soon returns, slipping on a pair of low heels while she holds her jacket. "I need to go. I've got a meeting at half nine and I need to brief a couple of the managers before then, so I can't stay."

Once her jacket is on she heads to the door and gives the apartment one final glance before she turns her attention to Harrowheart. "You can stay as long as you want. Just don't break anything, or scare anyone, and don't you dare go into my room." She nods as if reassuring herself that's all her notes, and then turns to the door. "I'll talk to you later."

With that Isidor hurries out of her apartment and head off, hoping her head will stop aching once she gets into the office.

She doesn't like being feared? Sure, Isidor. Without thinking he rolls his eyes and smiles, then tries to hide it by crossing his arms behind his back and quickly looking away.

Suddenly she's leaving, gathering her things, organizing her schedule out loud and giving him instructions as if he were an employee of hers. Harrow finds himself nodding at her orders. Don't break things, don't scare anyone... He's nearly certain he can get through a day without doing either of those things.

But then she's leaving in such a rush. He nearly misses his chance to say goodbye to her as she bolts for the door. Despite his long strides she makes it there before him, passing his runeblades resting there as she goes. She's in the hallway when he reaches out and pulls her back.

"Isidor!" he whisper-hisses, hoping no one saw or heard him. He keeps her in the doorway with his hands on her upper arms and looks her in the face. His eyebrows twitch as he watches her. Something has him looking worried, almost fearful.

"You forgot somethin'..." he says quietly. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes dart across her features. What he needs to say or do can't wait forever. She must be waiting for him to speak, but silence passes between them nonetheless...

Then he stands straight, breathes in through his nose, and finds the courage to lean to her level. He doesn't close his brightly-glowing eyes when he brings his face so close to hers. He doesn't blink until the tip of his nose touches her cheek and his cold lips press against hers. With his hands gripping her arms he stays like this a moment, if she'll allow him.

Eventually, though, he pulls away. He stands straight and lets his hands slip away. He opens his mouth to speak, but can't overcome his own nerves. Better to stay quiet than to tremblingly wish her a good day.

Edited 2018-02-10 21:46 (UTC)

Her mind is already halfway to the office when he calls her back. If he hadn't pulled her back she might not have stopped at all. She turns back to him with a head full of figures, dates, costs and calculations and it takes her another minute to come back to her apartment door. Here where he's just... looking at her. Is she missing something? What did she forget?

But then he's leaning in close and all she can think about is the scent of last night's drinks clinging to him, the glow of his eyes, the chill of his skin... For once in her life Isidor Durant doesn't resist. When their lips touch she lets go of the breath she'd been holding in a little sigh. Her eyes close and her hand rises to rest on his chest to steady herself. Then just as quickly as he pulled her close, he's moving away again. She opens her eyes again but she still looks dazed. Somewhere in the back of her mind she worries about how fast her heart is heating and how warm her cheeks are burning, but all she can do is stare at him as she tries to get over this wave of different emotions, of new sensations.

Finally she comes back to her senses with a breathless laugh of surprise and a small smile. "That's not fair," she says quietly. "Making me want to stay like that."

Edited 2018-02-11 00:53 (UTC)

She sighs against his lips and he feels her breath, if not its warmth. What a delicate, intimate gift to be given. Her fingers touch his chest that rises to meet her palm and he leans into that affirming pressure.

How can he be surprised to see her expression, then, when they finally part? Her smile set in flushed cheeks turns his doubt into a soft, bright acceptance. His fingers graze her hand there on his chest. After a hushed laugh at her words he ducks his head to hide the twist of his lips and the darkening of his own cheeks.

"I'd keep you here, if I could," he shyly admits. "But today's kiss is for goodbyes and good luck."

With a peaceful smile he nods down the hall, and he begins to slip back into the room. Go on now, Isidor. Go back to the world of the living, to the world without magic... But take your knight's kiss with you.

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Here Because of You (For Isidor)

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