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Crystal; a day or two after returning to Kirkwall

[apocalypsegrown]

Loki?

[ it’s asked with really no fanfare. She’s at that point of soreness. ]

Tell me whatever fancy place your shacked up in has a bathtub.

[icasm]

[ Things Loki doesn't say: The apartment belongs to Alexandrie's family, actually. Or you know there's a bathhouse equivalent in the Gallows, right? She wouldn't be asking if she didn't mean it. ]

It does, yes. Even comes with someone who will fill it with hot water and isn't me, if you're amenable to that.

[ Are you coming over? Item three for the list of discarded responses. ]

Should I meet you at the ferry on the city's side?

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She does know that there's a bathhouse but she'd have to share that with whatever godawful person was around and she doesn't want the questions or conversations on why she's so black and blue. Half of the idiots here have hardly ever seen a real battle, and she's not very social.

And also she might just miss him. A little.

So when he immediately agrees she's not going to call him on his eagerness. Because that does sound divine. ]

I wouldn't even mind if you were the one filling it. [ And then without any acknowledgement of how that might sound. ] I can be there on the next ferry.

[icasm]

I could make that happen.

[ Does he sound eager? He's trying to strike a balance between wanting to see her and wanting to give her space, though the idea of her bathing in the same apartment he lives in is rapidly encroaching on 'gonna give Loki a nosebleed if he thinks about it too hard' territory.

Which is new. ]

Alright. I'll meet you there; we'll take a carriage to Hightown?

[apocalypsegrown]

[ A carriage to hightown? Sylvie laughs once, shaking her head. ]

You still are that prince inside despite everything aren't you. But yes, I'll take your carriage, because my legs have never been this sore in my life.

[ And there's the sounds of her shuffling, pulling on fabric and gathering items to leave. ]

[icasm]

I don't think that's a terrible thing, personally.

[ But he figured that she'd rather skip the long stairs to Hightown this time around. Plus he has fond memories of his first carriage ride into Hightown, with Lexie.

There are the noises of her preparing to leave and Loki begins to do the same, gathering his jacket and putting on boots to prepare for the walk to the docks to meet her. ]

I kind of hate being human, [ he mutters. ] For the record. Too fragile.

[apocalypsegrown]

God, do I feel that.

[ It's almost a normal conversation, the way she throws her head back and groans before closing the door, the crystal hanging about her neck in the folds of her stolen Orlesian cloak. ]

And why do they have to pee so often? It's like all their processes are just sped up ten fold.

[ When it's quiet it's almost like she can feel herself dying; and she does NOT want to think about that too deeply. She tucks herself into her layers as she steps outside, the cold catching her with a chill as it whips her hair about. Despite the soreness and her limp there's a slight bounce to her step. ]

[icasm]

[ There's a soft snort on the other end. Loki has put on a cape, gloves, scarf alongside his boots, and other clothing; he feels as prepared as he's going to get for this weather (even if the cold isn't as bothersome as it could be, he knows). ]

You get drunk faster too, have you discovered that yet? Hangovers are worse. And then you need to pee five thousand times per hour, either way.

[ Waking up in the middle of the night to go piss has been one of his bottom five experiences of being human. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

I haven't had the chance. Quarantine and then war and the gallows doesn't have a bar-- that I'm aware of. yet.

[ Honestly she's so beat up, black and blue at the middle and down her legs and arms, her left hand still tender and swollen, she's not thought drinking a blood thinner the best idea until she's healed a bit more. ]

I suppose that's the only way they can handle living such tender lives.

[icasm]

Yet I think is the main word, there. No one should have to get on the ferry just to get a drink outside of the holidays.

Maybe we'll have to build one. [ Nosewrinkle. It's audible in his tone. ]

Or drugs. As a method of handling tender lives, I mean. And short, ugh. But. Drugs are fun unless they very much are not. Which is the problem with them, overall.

[apocalypsegrown]

Lyrium.

[ She's gotten the child's summary of the material, and how dangerous and addictive it can be. And how powerful. ]

Have you tried it?

[icasm]

[ Vocal shudder. ] Oh, definitely not.

Have you seen the red version? Horrorshow, clearly. I'll stick with elfroot, personally.

[apocalypsegrown]

I've not seen the non-red version.

[ She's been here hardly a blink after all, despite how busy she's been. Sylvie huddles up a bit more in her cloak as she jogs down the steps to the dock, just barely catching the ferry. She crosses despite the gap between the boat and the dock or the dockmaster's shouts, slipping slightly as she lands on the deck and hurries into the group of people and into the more sheltered part of the boat. She tucks herself into a corner, knees up inside the heavy fabric and nose buried in the high collar as she fiddles with the stone to speak into it again. ]

I'm on board.

[icasm]

One of the native mages could probably tell you more about it than I could. I haven't exactly asked around about it.

[ There's not much Loki can discern from the series of sounds that he picks up of Sylvie making her way to the ferry but he does let go of a breath he hadn't fully realized he was holding when she says she's on board. ]

Good. Great, really.

Other than sore, how are you?

[apocalypsegrown]

Fine.

[ Its said with more seriousness, a soft inhale through the nose. ]

How’s your girlfriend?

[icasm]

[ He's about to ask after that, and then Sylvie's question hits him first.

He'll have complicated feelings about her calling Alexandrie his girlfriend... later. ]

Recovering. I'm told it's going well.

[apocalypsegrown]

[ There’s a pause —because he made no attempt at denying it, and it makes her a little sick to her stomach despite the fact that her mind insists she's come to terms with it— and then a little more quietly: ]

You sure you won't be missed at her bedside?

[icasm]

We have a schedule.

[ Or, they did. Three nights with Loki, three with Byerly, one alone. On the days that would have been his, he goes to visit. Sometimes on the other days as well. Mostly he tries not to be in the way. ]

I can only do so much.

[apocalypsegrown]

Ooh a schedule. Mmm.

[ That doesn’t sound strange at all. For as concerned as he was she had thought he’d be more involved; but perhaps she wasn’t as badly injured as it had seemed in that moment. ]

Well as long as I’m not keeping you.

[icasm]

[ He hears that tone and noise and has to snort a little. ]

She has another lover. Plus a husband who she keeps vigil for, should he return. I am new, and not a healer, and thus... [ He hums. ]

You're not keeping me. I would make time, either way.

You're still important to me, Sylvie.

[ Not as intense as 'I love her like I know how to do nothing else' but not untrue. ]

1/2

[apocalypsegrown]

[ Well THAT I’d information she wasn’t expecting, and if anyone had been watching they would have seen the expression that went across her face. ]

2/2

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She’s not sure how to feel about that second part at all though, and it throws her from being slightly impressed at his actual hedonism to more complicated emotions.

Still.

She has no frame of reference to stage that word upon. Nor the word important really.

For her important has only been used in that way once in her life. And he doesn’t even know what she—

So instead of answering she changes the topic. ]

I didn't bring a towel.

[icasm]

[ She changes the topic so strongly in that moment that he has to take a breath, which comes out as a chuckle in the next moment. ]

I live here.

There are towels. You can use them. Do you need clothes too?

[ An honest question. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

Only if yours are more comfy.

[ Yes. That’s better. That he follows along let’s her breathe a little easier. ]

Otherwise I picked some up in Val Chevin.

[ A pause. Might as well make a thing of it. ]

A robe would be nice.

[icasm]

Well. [ Can she hear the way his brain is turning that over? He'd said it purely on jest but now...]

I'll let you be the judge of that.

[ He has SOME comfy clothes. Mage robes. Sweaters. Soft pants, things like that. Things for days when he's alone and goes nowhere. ]

A robe, then. What else did you pick up in Val Chevin?