snowblindrpg | [log] does anyone even read post titles [closed]

[He hesitates at the request, tensely sliding himself away from where she sits. A better weapon would be ideal, but unless it just happened to be a knife or a gun, he wouldn't be any better off than where he was now.]

I don't have anything worthwhile to trade for any of that.

Look, can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk to you.

Instead of trading, you could consider it compensation for me bringing an anomaly to your door and then having the audacity to talk to you? Reparations from Hyperion, kinda.

[ Which is a thought that's amusing enough to prompt a small snicker as she shrugs her bag off her shoulders. HAHAHA LIKE HYPERION WOULD EVER PAY OFF ANYONE WHEN THEY COULD JUST CRUSH THEM HAHAHAHAHA IT'S FUNNY! FUN, FUNNY TIMES.

She very carefully pulls a bundle of cloth strips from the bag (an ex-t-shirt, to be precise), and extracts a shard of glass from it about half as long as her forearm. It doesn't look especially impressive, but - ]

It's made of the same stuff as the windows. So it cuts through most things! Including anomalies, most likely, but I wouldn't suggest getting close enough to check.

[Goddammit, woman, stop using terms he appreciates hearing.

There's a long pause as he tries to take a good look at the shard from his seat on the floor. The pure size of it immediately piques his interest - it's much larger than any of the other glass fragments he has - but there still was the matter of how the hell he would be able to use it as a weapon without injuring himself.

His tone flattens, the bite of irritation momentarily dying down.]

Where did you get it?

The area past the aquarium. There's a building towards the south where the windows caved in from the pressure of all the snow packed against them, so Rhys and I gathered up the bigger pieces. You never know when things like this will come in handy, even for non-offensive purposes!

[ Practical concerns are once again clearly the way to approach conversation with Grumbles McSwaddled. Duly noted. Angel tosses the glass in Lutha's direction, making sure that it lands a few feet short of him - accidentally lopping off any bits of him wouldn't really help matters here. Eesh. ]

We have a few more between us, so. Go nuts! Wow, that is... a poor choice of words to use when giving sharp things to someone, huh.

Shit-- Oi, hey, be careful where you're throwing things.

[Don't go offering something to him and then breaking it against the floor two seconds later!!!!

The snap aside, though, he does hesitantly look her back over, keeping an eye on where her hands sit specifically as he puts his weapon down. A normal person might just lean over with their open hand and keep themselves properly armed otherwise. He doesn't have that luxury. Thus, his left arm still stays tucked awkwardly in his jacket pocket as he readjusts his weight, the simple stretch alone noticeably stiff and unnatural when he reaches out to slide the glass towards him. He jerks a bit, flinching, but doesn't stop his motions.

Whether the redhead's response is a grumble or more genuine thanks is lost to the cutting of static through his words.]

You're welcome. Assuming that's - yeah.

[ Hrrrrm. Angel is trying not to be too nosy, since Lutha doesn't seem like the type of person to take kindly to prying, but. Well. She can't just pretend not to notice the apparent pain in his movements, can she? That'd be more patronising than actually asking about it. Probably.

She keeps her tone and her posture casual, swinging her legs slightly over the edge of the countertop. No threatening body language or sudden moves here. ]

Rhys didn't hurt you in the scuffle, did he? Do you want me to take a look?

No.

[It's sharp, immediate, and surprisingly panicked.

...

A beat, before Lutha draws himself up with an exhale, tensely pulling his scarf further up his face.]

...No. I don't need to be mothered over bruises I earned on my own.

Don't see why you need to care, either.

Not mothering! Just friending. Acquaintance-ing? Iunno. You're obviously in pain, is all! It's kind of hard not to fuss. Just a little.

[ Her eyes flick towards the scarf as he pulls on it. Are the scars he'd shown before still fresh enough to hurt? Hmm.

Not that she's going to ask. Yet, anyhow. Baby steps. Tiny, fussy, precious wee babby steps. ]

Plus, you know. We established this whole situation was at least partially my fault, right? So that includes any injuries you sustained during the, uh. Unpleasantness.

[Wow, does this girl WANT to be hated or something?

He lets out a muffled, disbelieving laugh.]

First off, we are not friends. I don't want anything to do with you or with the people you're travelling with, got it?

Second, regardless of fault, you are not responsible for a grown man or who he chooses to throw around. If you're wanting to take the blow off of him by saying nonsense like that, you're just being an idiot, and if he sent you over here to apologize, you can both kindly fuck off.

He didn't injure me. Just forget about it.

[He's hoping that will be enough to get her to drop the issue, because having his pain be so easily visible isn't exactly sitting with him well.]

I did correct myself on the friends front. I throw the term around a little loosely! It's a terrible habit. You shouldn't let it put you off me, though! You should at least give me a chance to show my genuinely bad qualities before you write me off.

[ SMILE SMILE. ]

And Rhys didn't send me. I mean - he's snoring away like a giant dork, so. But I guess there's nothing to apologise for anyway, if you aren't injured?

[ In which case it's absolutely the scarring that's causing him pain. Which means he needs to be coaxed into speaking to a doctor? Which doesn't seem like it'll be easy. Hrrgh. ]

[gOD STOP THAT

He'll just. Get that shard into his pack so he doesn't have to look at her damn grin.

This is remarkably tedious with one hand but he's doing it anyway. His left arm aches too much to even use as an anchor.]

You--- Ghh. Don't give yourself so much credit. I've heard plenty about you and your terrible habits as it is.

Terrible habits?

[ She'd offer help, but. Again, it'd probably be an insult to his independence, right? Since he's so adamant about not being mothered?

It feels incredibly weird to just leave him to his task after spending so long with a certain noodle man who drinks up coddling and fuss like it's hot chocolate. Really, really weird. ]

You're going to have to elaborate. I have so many.

[It might be fascinating to watch, if not a little awkward - being one-handed for only a few days means there's a lot of fumbling, readjusting, and absolutely no finesse. After too much of a delay in just getting the bag open, the redhead tosses it between his legs in frustration, trying to pin it against the crook of one knee while he messes with the zipper.

His irritation leaks heavily into his words.]

Rambling. Not listening to actual blatant requests. Treating machines like living creatures.

Oh, someone's been talking to Stibs. My condolences.

[ There's a slight prickle there, naturally, but nothing major. She stops swinging her legs, leans forward, and nods at the bag. ]

I, um - when I lost a couple of fingers a while ago, I had to open my bag one-handed too, it was a pain in the a-- butt. I ended up tying a loop of string onto the zipper so I could handle it better, would you like me to tie some to yours real quick?

[ oh hey look at this

ANOTHER SMILE ]

[Look at that, he almost laughs.]

Sure. If I'd known what he was, I wouldn't have bothered in the first place. But I saw enough proof that the two of you are out of your damn minds.

So, no. I don't need your help.

[If she wants to argue about this, that's fine by him. As exhausted as he is, he's not about to sleep with these people in the house with him. Besides, it'll give him something to do besides listen to the monster crawling on the ceiling.

He finally wrestles the zipper open enough to get the shard inside, though when closing it proves just as difficult, he finally caves and rolls up his coatsleeve on his other arm... or rather, what's left of it. The sleeve of his shirt has been knotted tight against the stub of his left forearm, the hand and wrist completely missing. It's easy enough to tuck it into the topmost loop of the pack, but Lutha still grimaces deeply, even after the zipper's closed and the arm subsequently withdrawn once more.]

What he was? Like... a douchebag?

[ ??????

The stumps of her fingers prickle unpleasantly at the sight of his missing hand despite it being covered - ouch - but she still tries to keep any potentially-patronising sympathy off her face. And mostly succeeds, minor brow-furrowing aside. ]

And just so you know, um - I'm aware you don't need help. That doesn't mean I can't offer, though, even if you're being kind of rude. It's what coplete nutjobs like me do.

Will you just-- Do you not understand what the word "no" means?? Cut it out.

[He meets that furrowed brow with a look of exasperation, still flinching as he adjusts his arm closer to his stomach.]

He's an elf. Guessing you either don't know or don't care.

Dude. Chill. I'm not going to hop down and start fussing and clucking and tying strings on all your things without permission.

[ YET. That's like a level two friendship thing. The level where you can get away with annoying the heck out of people and they like you enough that it doesn't matter too much.

I mean what ]

But, um, I know he's an elf. Several people here are. They use the term elezen, I think. What's so awful about him being one?

[ Are you jelly of the ears because ANGEL FEELS U IF SO ]

He speaks and acts in a way no one of his race should. Talking that high and mighty should be left to the truly pompous, not the gutter folk.

[Really, he's more disappointed than anything.]

Dude, I don't think he's from the gutters. Iunno if he's a noble like Haurchefant, but he's definitely a legit knight... thing.

[ Except from what Lutha's saying, all elves are hobos or whatever where he comes from? Heck. ]

So I guess he has the right to talk like he does. Even if it makes him sound like a douche.

[...

Congratulations, Angel, he actually outright laughs.]

That's rich.

No elf can be a knight.

Not every world is like yours, my f-- dude. despite his faults, I don't think Stibs is a liar. And Haurchefant is knightly as heck.

[ And SO COOL but that's neither here nor there. ]

I'm sure there are things that humans can't do or be in their world that'd seem strange to you. You have to bear in mind that you can't take your own world's limitations for granted any more.

[ lest you be sent to GAY BABY JAIL, loofah ]

This isn't about something like limitations. It's just about what is and is not.

[Guess who is taking your point and throwing it out the window, Angel!]

People are people, and elves are elves, alright? Regardless of what kind of dress they clothe themselves with or how they adjust their speech, there are things a person can and cannot be, and the same goes for an elf, or an orc, or any other kind of race.

So rightly, I don't care how they might act or what kind of story they might tell. An elf can't hold the rank of a knight, nor perform in a way fitting such a title.

That's just who they are.

[log] does anyone even read post titles [closed]

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responds to this just in time for the francel post

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