Lea "Dark Rescue" Lastname (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
promises_to_keep) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2015-06-04 05:21 pm
promises_to_keep) wrote in snowblindrpg2015-06-04 05:21 pm
Entry tags:
[closed] I need to get my bearings
Characters: Lea and Zelda
Location U11, House 121
Date: Day 002; evening
Summary: A princess and an ex-assassin find themselves as unlikely roommates for the night.
Warnings: Proooobably nothing.
The daylight was rapidly fading, and his little tablet device kept prompting him to find shelter. Lea decided it really wasn't a bad idea, given the fact that his fingers were growing numb and he was pretty sure he'd lost all feeling in his ears, even with his hood up. There was a second house nearby, and he wanted to at least have a look; if there was nothing interesting inside, he'd go back to the house with the office and poke around in there some more. His pilfered pillow tucked under his arm and the 2x4 in his hand, Lea jogged up to the front door and tried the knob.
Pushing the door open, he rubbed his hands together as he stepped inside, grateful to be out of the wind. Closing the door behind him, he tapped the snow from his boots and peered about the front room with a frown. It was very similar to the other house in construction, and just as eerily empty. There were no books on the bookshelves, no pillows on the sofa, no rugs on the floor. A peek in the kitchen revealed nothing in the cupboards, and naught but a single butter knife in the drawers. Well, a knife was a knife, even if he was pretty sure this one would be pretty useless as a weapon. Maybe he could use it to hammer those nails into the 2x4.
Meandering back out to the living room, he noticed that the wallpaper appeared to be peeling up in one of the corners. Curious, he dropped to a crouch near it and reached out to run gloved fingers over the fraying paper. It almost looked like something had been clawing at it, but it certainly hadn't been a housecat. A little unsettled, he rose back to his feet, and then froze as a chill ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
He could hear footsteps above him--soft, light. He wasn't alone in this house.
Gripping the 2x4, Lea considered just going back to the other house. If there was someone or something in this one, he really wasn't prepared for any sort of altercation, not with nothing but a 2x4 and a butter knife. As he slowly backpedaled toward the door, however, there was a loud clunking sound, like a bolt being thrown.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..."
Just like last night. He'd found the door to the house he'd previously been in had locked itself, and no amount of pulling, pushing, or attempting to turn the knob would make it budge. He had thought maybe it was just a fluke, but two nights in a row, in completely different houses? That was no coincidence. Something wanted to make sure he wasn't outside during the night.
Trying the knob, just to be sure, he swore under his breath and gripped the 2x4 tighter. Well, if there was going to be an altercation with whatever entity was in this house, Lea decided he wanted to be the one calling the shots. Maybe he still had the element of surprise.
He crept up the stairs as silently as possible, the 2x4 poised over his shoulder like a baseball bat. This wasn't at all the sort of weapon he was used to--it felt even more awkward than the damn Keyblade--but he would make it work. Whoever or whatever was in this house wasn't going to get the drop on him, he was going to make sure of it.
Location U11, House 121
Date: Day 002; evening
Summary: A princess and an ex-assassin find themselves as unlikely roommates for the night.
Warnings: Proooobably nothing.
The daylight was rapidly fading, and his little tablet device kept prompting him to find shelter. Lea decided it really wasn't a bad idea, given the fact that his fingers were growing numb and he was pretty sure he'd lost all feeling in his ears, even with his hood up. There was a second house nearby, and he wanted to at least have a look; if there was nothing interesting inside, he'd go back to the house with the office and poke around in there some more. His pilfered pillow tucked under his arm and the 2x4 in his hand, Lea jogged up to the front door and tried the knob.
Pushing the door open, he rubbed his hands together as he stepped inside, grateful to be out of the wind. Closing the door behind him, he tapped the snow from his boots and peered about the front room with a frown. It was very similar to the other house in construction, and just as eerily empty. There were no books on the bookshelves, no pillows on the sofa, no rugs on the floor. A peek in the kitchen revealed nothing in the cupboards, and naught but a single butter knife in the drawers. Well, a knife was a knife, even if he was pretty sure this one would be pretty useless as a weapon. Maybe he could use it to hammer those nails into the 2x4.
Meandering back out to the living room, he noticed that the wallpaper appeared to be peeling up in one of the corners. Curious, he dropped to a crouch near it and reached out to run gloved fingers over the fraying paper. It almost looked like something had been clawing at it, but it certainly hadn't been a housecat. A little unsettled, he rose back to his feet, and then froze as a chill ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
He could hear footsteps above him--soft, light. He wasn't alone in this house.
Gripping the 2x4, Lea considered just going back to the other house. If there was someone or something in this one, he really wasn't prepared for any sort of altercation, not with nothing but a 2x4 and a butter knife. As he slowly backpedaled toward the door, however, there was a loud clunking sound, like a bolt being thrown.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..."
Just like last night. He'd found the door to the house he'd previously been in had locked itself, and no amount of pulling, pushing, or attempting to turn the knob would make it budge. He had thought maybe it was just a fluke, but two nights in a row, in completely different houses? That was no coincidence. Something wanted to make sure he wasn't outside during the night.
Trying the knob, just to be sure, he swore under his breath and gripped the 2x4 tighter. Well, if there was going to be an altercation with whatever entity was in this house, Lea decided he wanted to be the one calling the shots. Maybe he still had the element of surprise.
He crept up the stairs as silently as possible, the 2x4 poised over his shoulder like a baseball bat. This wasn't at all the sort of weapon he was used to--it felt even more awkward than the damn Keyblade--but he would make it work. Whoever or whatever was in this house wasn't going to get the drop on him, he was going to make sure of it.
no subject
Zelda's celebration over finding a pair of more suitable boots in the upstairs bedroom is cut short by the sound of the door locking shut. But it's the voice and sounds of struggling unfiltered by the tablet's speakers that gives her goosebumps. In a moment, her Sheikah training takes over, keeping her quickening breath as quiet as possible as she presses herself against the wall behind the open door. Her own 2x4 rests at her side, even more unwieldy in her hands than it is in his, but still ready to be swung or thrown at a moment's notice.
There, she waits, and listens. The sounds of struggling stop after a while, and the pair are left in tense silence, broken only by the howling winds of the storm outside. It makes Zelda anxious; Ganondorf's minions were always loud, throwing their weight around much like their master. She's not used to someone else being able to move as silently as her.
So she tries another tactic.
"Who's there? State your name and purpose!" she calls out from her hiding place, willing her voice to sound more certain than she feels. At best, the other person will respond, and she will have a better idea of where they are.
... At worst, they'll remain quiet, and she'll have given herself away for nothing.
no subject
"I'm not here to fight anybody," he calls back, reaching the top of the stairs but going no further down the hallway. "I found myself in this town yesterday, I've just been investigating houses as I come across them. I didn't know this one was occupied."
He hesitates. She asked for his name, and he supposes there's really no harm in giving it to her. He's not a fugitive anymore, the Organization isn't after him anymore (not really), so maybe a show of good faith is in order. Especially since it seems they've been locked in together, he would rather this stay civil. She's the first person he's encountered in this place, and he's honestly a little starved for human contact. He never did do very well all alone.
"My name's Lea," he says haltingly. "What's yours?"
no subject
Silence is his only response for a few moments, but after wrestling with her own paranoia, there's the sound of shuffling as she comes out of hiding.
The girl that stands on the other end of the hallway is not very intimidating in and of herself. Her frame is slight, even under the coat whoever kidnapped them deigned to gift her with, and she's likely at least a head shorter than Lea. But she also possesses a 2x4, held in both hands at her side as though it were a broadsword, and a wary glare in her eyes that promises reprisal should the other try anything.
"Zelda," she answers curtly. Her title is kept to herself for now. "I have been doing much the same."
She straightens, a bit like a cat trying to make itself look as big as possible as she tilts her chin up, gesturing towards Lea's bag.
"What do you hold in your pack? I have no interest in stealing if we are truly in the same situation, but you must understand my wariness."
He could be lying, he could have weapons-- there are an infinite number of ways this encounter could go sour, but Zelda tries to keep a level head despite paranoia urging her to run back inside the bedroom and lock the door.
no subject
The girl who steps into the hall is younger than he expected. She only looks maybe a little bit older than Riku, with blond hair and big blue eyes that look so mistrustful right now. She's a good bit shorter than he is, but she's got a 2x4 in her hands, too, looking far too big for her dainty fingers. He thinks that despite her small frame, she probably packs a punch; there's something in her gaze that says she's been through plenty, and Lea knows better than to mess with small blond women.
Zelda, she says her name is, and he muses that it's an unusual name, one he's never heard before. When she asks what's in his pack, though, he presses his lips together and tenses. He doesn't have much, but he was given food when he arrived--what if she tries to steal it? He hasn't found anything edible in any of the houses so far, this is all he's got!
... Wait, what's he even thinking? She's probably just asking in case he's got weapons, right? She just said she wasn't interested in stealing anything. (But what if she's lying?)
Okay, get it together, he thinks, shaking his head quickly to clear it. He's always tried to give the benefit of doubt, this situation should be no different. If anything, he should be a little more willing to give it; two people together are much more likely to survive in a harsh climate than one alone. Where's this unfounded suspicion even coming from?
"I don't have a lot," he says, and then hesitates a moment.
He should set the 2x4 down and show her. Even without his chakrams or Keyblade, without his magic, he's got years of combat experience and at least forty pounds on her; if she had anything more dangerous than a 2x4 she would be wielding it. He has the advantage here, he needs to extend this olive branch. He shouldn't be so paranoid about this, but an inexplicable thrumming sort of fear is just prodding at the back of his mind, like a headache threatening to bloom, and it's trying really hard to drown out his voice of reason. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Lea takes another step back and carefully leans down to set the 2x4 against the wall. He stands again, holding his empty hands up, then removes the backpack and sets it down on the floor, crouching beside it.
"Here, you can look if you want," he says, unzipping the large pocket and pulling the sides apart. "Some food, some water..." He reaches into the front pocket and pulls out the butter knife and a little wad of fabric. "I found some nails and metal shrapnel pieces, thought they might be useful, so I wrapped 'em up in an old necktie that was laying around."
Lea looks at her, at the 2x4 in her grip, and tries to quell that anxiety prodding at the back of his mind. This is the right choice, he knows it is, so why does he keep feeling like he's shown his hand to the enemy?
no subject
... Link wouldn't do that, though.
She grits her teeth as her ideals war with the town's paranoia in the confines of her mind. Vaguely, she feels as though she's going to be sick. She hopes Lea doesn't notice.
Using the 2x4, she pokes open the bag to better see the contents inside without risking putting herself in a compromising position. Food and water, same as what she was given, just as he said. A butter knife, potentially dangerous, but something she can fend off. Nails and shrapnel, just as she found searching through rubble yesterday. ... He tells the truth. A point in his favor.
Zelda looks from the bag to Lea himself, blue eyes sharp and discerning. If he gets the feeling that he's being studied, he's not wrong. She watches him carefully for any sign, any tell as she asks her next question.
"Does the name 'Ganondorf' mean anything to you?"
no subject
... Right?
Ugh, he feels kind of nauseous. What is with this place? Sure, he's been known to have his moments of extreme wariness, but he's never been especially paranoid.
Still leaning back, an attempt to get outside the range of that 2x4, Lea meets her eyes uncertainly, his gaze a little scrutinizing. She's trying to read him, he can tell. Years of tailing people and learning how to understand body language and decipher the smallest of microexpressions means he certainly knows when he's being studied. He doesn't falter as she asks her question, just furrowing his brow and shaking his head slowly.
"No," he says with a frown. "Should it?" He zips up the bag and slowly gets back to his feet, shouldering it, but making a point not to reach for his 2x4. He's been hit with worse; he's confident if she did try and hit him he could take the impact, so long as he wasn't hit in the head. "Why? Does the name 'Xehanort' mean anything to you?"
Her eyes are blue, so he can tell she's not under his influence, at least, but he wouldn't have put it past Xehanort to find a way to send him to a place like this. The Keyblade wielders were a threat to him, he knows this, and separating them would certainly be in his favor. Depriving them of their weapons even moreso.
no subject
Another tense moment passes, and then... Zelda's grip on the 2x4 loosens. One end falls to the floor with a dull thunk and she shifts her weight a bit in order to use it as a support. An attempt to look casual about it is made, but the ill feeling only intensifies with the energy she expends.
"... You are either a truly remarkable liar, or I have at this time no logical reason to believe you are not as you say you are." Yet hangs heavy in the air, a promise going unvoiced only because she lacks the energy to keep going at it like this for the whole night. She draws in a breath, lets it out. "Shall we remain civil until sunrise?"
The house is big enough. She can run and hide if he tries anything.
no subject
He is a good liar, but he's not about to own up to that. He's being sincere in this case, either way, and ventures a watery hint of a smile.
"It really wouldn't serve much purpose to make up stories, in this situation, I think," he says. "It looks like we're both in the same boat here." He gives a nod. "Civilities would be nice," he says. "Two heads are gonna be better than one, any way you slice it." He offers one gloved hand. "Truce?"
She looks a little unsteady on her feet, and he finds himself wondering if it's just the cold, or if there's something else wrong. He's still feeling kind of woozy himself, for that matter, so on some level, he's glad he's not the only one a little worse for wear at the moment.
"I was poking around downstairs some," he says, "but the house looks pretty empty. And I don't just mean unoccupied. There's no books on the bookshelves, no dishes or anything in the kitchen. Besides the furniture, it's like the people who lived here just packed up all their stuff and left." He gestures past her, down the hallway toward the bedroom. "Did you have much time to search in there before I interrupted? There's a couple of rooms downstairs I didn't have a chance to look through yet, but it's not like we haven't got time."
They're locked in for the evening, it seems; might as well do a good thorough search of every nook and cranny of the house.
no subject
She's not certain if she should be elated or more frightened when she lightly grips his hand in turn and finds that it is solid.
"Truce."
The handshake doesn't last long; she quickly pulls her hand back and tucks it against herself. Now that the adrenaline is fading away, the ever-present chill in the air is reasserting itself, and she's still nowhere near adequately dressed for this weather.
"It is more full than the house I awoke in - to the point I would even hesitate to call wherever I woke a house. There was nothing there aside from a metal door I could not open no matter how I tried." This place is almost luxurious in comparison, really. Her gaze follows his hand when he gestures, but she still hesitates to turn her back to him. "I found a pair of boots in the closet, but did not come across much else that would be considered noteworthy. I had not finished looking through the second floor when the doors locked, either."
Truly, there is not much else to do.
no subject
He takes a moment to look her over, noting she seems to be wearing a gown of some sort. Fancy, he muses, and wonders absently what sort of life she lived back home. Giving a nod, he runs a hand back through his hair.
"Yeah, the house I woke up in just had one room intact," he says. "There was a mattress on the floor, and a creepy mirror on the wall, and that was it." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, toward the stairs. "I'm gonna go check out those other two rooms downstairs, if you wanna finish poking around up here," he says. "I'll let you know what I find."
He's even willing to share, for that matter. She looks like a capable young woman, but she's only barely not a child, and Lea has a natural tendency to herd kids that he can't quite turn off. Even as he finds himself running through a dozen scenarios where she knocks him out and runs off with his pack, or breaks his legs and leaves him to freeze, he still can't quite hush the little voice that urges him to give her a hand.
Lea reaches for the 2x4 he had set against the wall, but keeps it low as he turns to descend the stairs.
"I'm gonna see if I can use that butter knife to put some of those nails into the 2x4," he says, and then waves one hand. "Just in case we run into anybody who isn't willing to be civil, that is. There's enough that I could probably give yours the same treatment, if you want."
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"Perhaps, after we have each finished our searching for the evening," she answers. If she can hardly resist the temptation to keep him in sight at all times, she's certainly not going to hand over her best weapon and let him do whatever he wants to it. Especially if he's looking to make his own more dangerous while she's disarmed. Only once he has taken a few steps down the stairs does she turn back the way she came herself, glancing over her shoulder to make one final request as she leaves:
"Make certain to knock before entering any rooms, would you?"
Don't need to have a repeat of this nervous affair.
no subject
They're bare as the rest of the house, with no linens on the beds, no running water in the bathrooms. He pulled open the dresser drawers one by one, making a soft noise of triumph when he saw something in one of them. Reaching in, he retrieved... a pair of pink earmuffs. Well, that was still something.
The other bedroom door was closed, so he obligingly knocked on it, as Zelda had requested. When he got no response, he pushed the door open and peered inside.
"Hello?"
He wasn't actually sure what he would have done if someone had answered him. Unfortunately, the second bedroom was just as empty as the first, netting him naught but an spiral notebook left in the nighttable drawer.
Tucking the notebook under his arm, he returned to the main room and set it on top of the pillow he'd found in the other house, which he had left sitting on the couch. Then he moved to the stairs and climbed about halfway up.
"Ah... Zelda?" he called hesitantly. "I didn't find much down here. You have any better luck?"
no subject
Regardless, she obligingly comes back out into the hall when her name is called, working the fruit of her labors - a hairbrush - through her blonde hair.
"Not much of practical use, I fear," she answers, wincing slightly as the brush gets caught on a tangle. She's not typically one for vanity, but this is the closest thing she's found resembling hygiene in the 48 hours she's been in this icy ghost town. She'll take what she can get. "It seems the most valuable thing about these places is the fact they hold up against the nightly storms."
no subject
"Hey, if that's all they have to offer, I'm still gonna be grateful for it," he says with a shake of his head. "It's cold enough out there with the sun up; I don't think I wanna spend the night out in the wind."
Lea looks down at the earmuffs in his hands, then looks back up at Zelda.
"Ah... I found these," he says, climbing another two stairs but not going all the way to the top. She's clearly still wary, and with good reason, really; he doesn't want to strain this tentative alliance by invading her personal space too quickly. Holding the earmuffs out toward her, he gives a little nod. "My coat's got a hood," he says, "so you can have these, if you want."
He's not sure they'll cover... all of her ears, cuz they're a bit long, but surely they'll be better than nothing.
no subject
The alarm on the tablet seems to serve a benevolent purpose after all. Their kidnappers want them to have some sort of chance at surviving this place, it seems.
Lea's offer gets a puzzled look as she glances between the earmuffs and him. In this nervous state, she's hard pressed to think of an altruistic reason for Lea to give up something potentially useful, and she's half tempted to refuse the gift outright.
On the other hand, her ears are really cold. The tips have already gained a red tint from wandering through the snow.
"Are you certain?"
no subject
Lea attempts an encouraging smile at her hesitation. It's true, he still doesn't trust her himself--doesn't trust anything here in this place right now--but he's always been a generous sort. He doesn't like to see people suffer, especially kids, and though Zelda carries herself like an adult, she's probably not that much older than Roxas. It seems that not even this heavy paranoia can turn off that protective streak.
"Yeah, I'm sure," he says gently, still holding them out toward her. "No tricks. Cross my heart." He drags his thumb across his chest and gives a weak laugh. "If we've gotta be stuck in this place, I'd rather be stuck with somebody, you know? It's too lonesome otherwise."
He waits until she takes the earmuffs, then takes another step up, but still doesn't close the distance between them entirely.
"Heat rises," he says, "so... if we're gonna hole up for the night, it'll probably be at least marginally warmer up here on the second floor. I guess we're not lucky enough that there were any linens on anything up here?"
Lea would have loved to find a blanket, or even a sheet. It's warmer inside than it was out in the wind, but it's still quite cold in the house, and even through the coat and boots and gloves, his extremities buzz with cold and he's fighting not to shiver.
no subject
Lea better not laugh when she puts them on and it turns out they do not, in fact, cover her ears completely.
"Unfortunately, no," she answers, deciding against responding to his comment about being lonely. Not everyone's used to being on their own. "The mattresses are bare, and the closets are empty. The warmest place we are likely to find here are the rooms that do not have an exterior wall."
What is insulation.
no subject
Earning trust is a process, this he knows.
He doesn't laugh when her ears stick out of the earmuffs, but he does smile a bit that she accepts them. Rubbing his hands together, he glances around them, then down the stairs.
"Well..." He rubs his chin. "I think all the bedrooms have windows. The center of the living room downstairs might be the furthest area from any of the outer walls, but it's the biggest room, so I dunno that that makes any difference." He glances at Zelda with a frown. "I think it's better to be on the couch or on a mattress than the floor, at least," he says. "Fabric retains heat, where the floor'll just suck it right outta ya. Whaddaya think?"
no subject
Maybe if the rations they had been given were a little more filling, she would be more amenable to that idea. As things are, however, she knows how important using what energy they have wisely is.
"Would you like to take the couch, then?"
She's very clearly not thinking about sharing a room for the night.
no subject
He gives a bit of a laugh then, looking at Zelda slightly reproachfully.
"Wow, banishing me to the couch already?" he quips. "I haven't even done anything, sheesh." He waves a hand. "Kidding, I'm kidding," he assures her. "I err on the side of levity when things get stressful." He wouldn't have expected her to want to share space, honestly; he's not even sure he does. Though he's grateful for the company, sleeping in the same room with someone else isn't something he's felt comfortable doing in a long time. "I'll take the couch," he says. "Are you gonna stay up here? I wish there was a fireplace... I could probably get a fire going even without matches, but there's nowhere to burn it safely."
And the last thing they need is to burn the house down around them.
no subject
"You said so yourself, the second floor may be the next warmest place in the building." So yes, she will be staying upstairs. Admittedly, sleeping in an actual bed has been such a luxury for so long, she would have likely chosen one of the other bedrooms regardless of whether or not Lea took the couch. "Until we find the one responsible for this, it seems we are forced to make do with what we have."
She turns again, back towards the bedrooms.
"I plan to set out as early as possible, so do not be alarmed if you hear me moving around come morning."
Please do not hit the Hylian with a nailboard.
no subject
Maybe he would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream.
Lea's sleep was thin and restless. It was too cold, and he felt too exposed on the couch in this strange house with the strange woman upstairs. He was trapped somewhere between slumber and wakefulness when a sharp pain in his left arm yanked him out of limbo, though. He went to yelp in shock and pain, but he couldn't seem to move. Why couldn't he move?
A lance of terror spiked through him. Had he been injected with a paralytic? Had Zelda done this? He never should have trusted her! He never should have let himself nod off! Now she was going to kill him since he couldn't move! He tried to brace for an attack, but his body wouldn't obey, and after a moment when no attack came, he just found himself confused. What in the world was going on?
Five minutes later, he was able to barely move his toes. Ten minutes later, he would wiggle his fingers. Fifteen minutes after the injection, Lea found himself in control of his body again, but when he managed to sit up on the sofa, no one was there. If that hadn't been a paralytic agent to immobilize him for a killshot, then what in the world had it been? Had it really been Zelda? She had seemed so polite, if distant and a little cold; he couldn't quite imagine she'd have done something like this.
His limbs were still shaky; he didn't trust himself to get to his feet yet, but he swung his legs over the edge of the couch. He didn't want to think Zelda had done this, but there was only one way to find out. Spotting his backpack near the couch where he'd left it, he reached carefully for it and unzipped it. Nothing was missing. If Zelda had paralyzed him, even temporarily, wouldn't she have taken his things and run off? This didn't make any sense.
"Zelda?" he called, trying to get his feet under him and mostly just wobbling in a hunched over position in front of the couch. "Zelda, are you still here?"
Maybe it wasn't the smartest move, to call out to the person who might have done this, but if it had happened to her, too, she might need help. Maybe he didn't owe her anything, but if she was hurt, he didn't want to just leave her to her own devices.
no subject
"Did you do this? What was that?! My arm--"
Nngh, she hates this feeling, being sluggish. Her instincts are telling her to run but she can barely get her body to move the way she wants to, let alone rush down the stairs and escape. The sound of shuffling indicates she's righted herself, but anything more is beyond her for the moment.
It does give her a moment to think, however. The way Lea called out... didn't sound like the voice of someone who had just done something like this. Perhaps he really is an exceptionally good liar, but somehow that thought doesn't seem as likely as it did last night. Sluggish limbs aside, she doesn't feel as ill as she did overnight either.
Her voice is a bit more tentative when she speaks again, "Were you stabbed with a needle?"
omg i thought i hit enter like. yesterday. wtf.
"Of course not!" he replies, a little snappishly, when she asks if he's responsible for their current state. He instantly feels a bit bad for being indignant, then; he thought the same thing of her, after all. He unzips his coat and slides it off his arm, shuddering in the cold air as he twists his arm a bit to try and see the site of the injection. There's a red pinprick, but nothing else. It definitely happened, that's for sure, but who the hell had done it, and why? Where had they gone? He slides the coat back on and zips it back up with a shiver.
Leaning heavily on the couch, he sort of shuffles around it and takes a few halting steps toward the stairs.
"Yeah," he says when she inquires then, and he grips his arm where it still stings from the injection. "It left a mark, but I didn't get a look at whoever did it. I couldn't move!" He manages to make it to the base of the stairs, and grips the banister, trying to get his legs to cooperate. "Are you hurt?" he calls up the stairs after a moment's hesitation.
no subject
Upon collecting herself, she replies, "I am fine." Which, of course, is the multiuniversal signal for being anything but, but there is some truth to it. Aside from the pain of the injection site and now a few bruises along her side, she's uninjured. As the lingering effects of the paralysis subside, she feels better than she did last night, if anything.
"Whatever they did has yet to wear off completely; my coordination is impaired, but improving." Unseen, she flexes her fingers a few times, getting slightly faster with each movement. "What was that?"
no subject
He takes a careful step up, moving slowly. He's glad Zelda wasn't behind this, he really is. He knows the value of a good ally, and in a place like this, he has a feeling he's going to need all the allies he can get.
"Do you need any help?" he asks. "Still kinda feels like my limbs are asleep, but I think I can make it up the stairs."
no subject
Without the influence of the town bearing down upon her, she's a bit more amenable, it seems. She's also grateful that it doesn't seem like Lea's betrayed her trust, though that only brings up the question of who did this then, and how?
"We should warn the others, if they have not been hit the same way already. Our captors have plans for us beyond merely bringing us to this town, apparently."
Plans they'll enact whether those they've captured like it or not.