It's Pretty Late
3/6/22
Log Info
- Title: It's Pretty Late
- Emitter: Andelena
- Place: Dolan's apartment
- Summary: Andelena's let herself into Dolan's apartment and has waited for him for hours until he shows up sportings some new wounds and with a new story. She assesses the damage while the Redeemer tells her about the issue with the werewolves and his concerns for the future. They reassure each other and their worries give way to banter and relaxation before a trip to the temple of Eluna.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Andelena 6'0" 180 Lb Human Female Redhead with steel-grey eyes and powerful build. Dolan 5'10" 174 Lb Human Male Brown-haired human with scars down his face. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The evening's drawn on, and at the apartment of a certain Redeemer of Daeus, a Sunguard lies in wait...
Although that makes it sound far more interesting than it really is. In reality, the Sunguard Andelena is sitting at Dolan's table, her armor and weapons carefully off to the side and tucked away on and to the side of a shelf next to her Redeemer-partner's equipment. She's dressed in a tank top that leaves very little of her upper half to the imagination and a pair of loosely-fitting drawstring pants that she stole from Brydion at some point in the past few weeks after a night spent at his place.
"He's pretty fucking late," Andelena murmurs to herself, leaning forward in her chair as her eyes flick between a window in the room and the front door in equal measure. Steel-grey eyes squint, as though she can somehow find the answers within the apartment or just beyond the perimeter.
Brydion's own weapons and armor are right where they're supposed to be, and in perfect order, along with the rest of his belongings, and there is no indicator to why he is so late. It is just about full dark when there's finally a rattling outside the door, and it opens. Brydion walks through it, scowling darkly, and does he ever look a fright. He'd opted for color today, a pale green shirt and trousers with a leather jerkin over top, but he's absolutely covered in blood, much of it down his right side but with liberal spatters across all of it. The shirt is torn down his right arm, and the shoulder of the blood-soaked jerkin looks like something bit clean through it. A quick inspection reveals that someone healed the worst of it, leaving only some deep bruises behind, but those bruises are telling enough. Something with animal-like jaws bit him, twice.
He's got in his other hand a wrapped parcel that smells like some form of cooked roast and vegetables, easily enough for them both, but starts on seeing her. "Shit. Hi Andie," and here, he looks just a l ittle guilty, eyes dropping. "Sorry I'm late."
The words hardly register with her. The steel-grey eyes have always seen to him--and through him--quicker than anything else. It's simultaneously one of her best and worst qualities. She draws in a sharp breath through her nose as she gets up from the chair and walks over to Brydion, immediately walking over to the injured man and putting her hands onto him.
Which, well, might ordinarily be welcomed on any other circumstance, but it's very quickly evident that she's inspecting his injuries. Her eyes dart over every detail on his jerkin and shirt. "Pfft, I'm the last person you need to apologize to when you come in here looking like that. What the fuck happened to you? --Looks like you got healed, at least, but damn, something bit you?"
She finally looks into his eyes, putting one hand carefully onto his cheek. "Furthermore, is the thing that did it still alive or am I gonna have to throw my gear back on and chase whatever crazy bastard did it into the night?"
"Werewolves, Andie." Brydion sets aside the still-warm parcel on a nearby table and submits to the examination readily enough, tilting his head to let the woman look, although touching the bruises gets a wince and a grimace from him. "A gang of them went after your sith friend in the market - Skielstregar, was it?" He has to think a minute to come up with the name. He's all right, got beaten up a little bit, but there was a Mourner in the same stall as him. Helped us both out, didn't get a chance to thank her.
His sword and armor are in the corner with hers.
"I'll go by the Dreaming Goddess' temple later, just in case, but I'm starving and they're in the middle of daily services, so I figured I'd eat first," he says. "But look, Andie. Something's up with this Caracoroth business. This isn't bullshit. They picked a fight with him specifically, and I damn well want to know why."
"Werewolves." Andelena just says it flatly as she looks at him. First they were worried about demons and having to deal with nightmares--and now it's werewolves on top of all of that. "And you were without your armor? Gods, Bry--"
Then he says he hasn't even gone to the Temple yet. She purses her lips together and takes a deep breath through her nose. Finally, she exhales. "Okay. Let's get your belly full and then we're headed to the temple together. I agree, there's some bullshit afoot here."
She shakes her head for a moment before she finally looks back up at Dolan and says, "How come you get into the big important shit while I have to deal with chicken-obsessed drunk men covered in bacon fat?"
Brydion looks up into those steel-gray eyes, finally relaxing enough to offer her one of his warm, adoring smiles. It's short-lived, though. "They're dead. We had one cornered and were going to question him, when someone man showed up on the rooftop, that he called The Nightmare, and killed him with a spell." He reaches up with his other hand, leaning his cheek into her hand and reaching for her titian curls, a thing he often did. "I was chasing a gnome who was screaming about sweet rolls and running the wrong way when it happened," he explains. "But it's related to the nightmares. I'm sure of it. And I'm glad you weren't hurt."
Yes, he's just a little bit out of sorts. Angry, worried, tired. "We'll go when they're done with services. And I should change clothes. It was a new shirt, too."
Andelena relaxes a little when he tells her that the cause of the injury is dead, although there is just the hint of disappointment in her eyes. Of course she's always been one to hunt down the ones who do injustice--what Sunguard would exist without that drive? "Fuck," she says finally. "Probably the best that they died then or I would have finished the job." She's more than serious about that.
But the look in her eyes softens as he leans into her hand and reaches out for her hair as it almost always does. "Gnome clearly missed that the best sweetrolls happens to be those buns in your pants," she quips, a small smirk on her face for her effort. "But seriously--I'm glad you came back to me."
She lets go of his cheek. "Yeah, go get comfortable. And don't sulk about the shirt, I probably would have ripped it off you anyway." There's still a hint of her upset feelings about the whole incident in her eyes, but Andie can never let him go too far without hitting on him.
Brydion's eyebrows lift, but in the way that says he's more than amused. "Is that so? I thought you liked sausage better." He returns the quip with one of his own, and a broad wink, letting his own hands drop and moving quickly enough to remove the jerkin and lay it aside. The shirt follows, the cloth stiff with blood soaked into it and peeling off of his skin to reveal another, considerably less worrisome looking bruise along his left side. Someone's had a rough day. He pays it no mind, though, and it doesn't seem to be bothering him. "Maybe you should come with me during the day sometimes."
"I probably should, if only to make sure you don't get bitten by werewolves alone. Just so long as we don't pass by someone cooking bacon. 'Sausage', yes. 'Buns', yes. Bacon? Hell the fuck no. Especially combined with drunk naked man stink." Andelena shudders as she recalls the memory. It's true; she hasn't eaten a single strip of bacon since that job.
She does eye his injuries now that it's all off (in addition to a bit of looking-not-respectfully at her significant other). "You sure you don't need or want me to give you a bit of extra healing?" she asks, frowning. "I mean, probably more for my peace of mind than anything. You know how I get."
Brydion merely laughs and abandons his search for a fresh shirt. "This'll heal quickly enough, and who knows if the priests will believe me if they can't see what happened? Maybe I can drive that drunk naked man stink memory away." So saying, he ambles forward and seeks her lips for a kiss that is meant to be reassuring and affectionate. "Don't you worry about me. We'll go to the Temple and they'll clear everything up."
He stops, looks down at his left side, and snorts laughter, lowering his arm he'd raised to inspect. "I wasrunning errands to the Soldier's Defense, and ended up helping them hold down an egalrin while the Hearthguards set her broken wing," he explains. "She kicked me pretty good." Andelena as a healer will recognize this as nothing unusual, not the holding them down and not the getting kicked for one's trouble. Setting bones hurts.
"Oh, hey, I like that method of memory removal," Andelena says with a smirk after he kisses her. "Don't think they teach that method in your secret Redeemer lessons--or do they?"
The Soldier's Defense mention gets a small look from Andelena, something like a small smile. How could it not, considering the recent past? But then the story about the egalrin comes out and Andelena winces in sympathy. "Shit. Yeah, I don't blame her. First time I broke a bone, I screamed like bloody murder when they set it back into place. Can't imagine that a broken wing is a thing an egalrin wants--not that I'd know, but wings are fragile things. If I had 'em, I'd be fucking pissed if I got fucked up."
"Yeah, it was pretty nasty-looking. I'll go by tomorrow and see how she is doing," Brydion agrees, grinning at Andelena and then kissing her again. "I'd better stop, because if I don't, we won't make it to the temple." With an effort of will, he turns away and renews the search for a fresh shirt, eventually coming up with one and pulling it on over his head. He does not bother pulling the jerkin back on. "Let's eat."
Andelena flushes a little with the extra kiss. "Hold on, shit, I think I forgot... Hmm... Oh hey, there's this cute guy in front of me and I have no idea who he is," Andelena offers playfully, looking at him again in a not-so-respectful manner even with all of his wounds--and continuing to do so once the shirt is on him. "Yeah, let's eat. I kind of helped myself to an apple earlier, but I figured you'd bring something substantial home."
She walks over to the kitchen table and sits back down in her chair from earlier. "These pants are nice, by the way. Where'd you get them?" They are, after all, his pants.
Okay, maybe her pants.
No, /their/ pants? Either way, safe to say Brydion's not getting them back unless he pulls them off her.
As if Brydion minds. He certainly doesn't seem to, grinning cheekily at her and turning towards the wrapped parcel he'd brought home, which turns out to be a wooden box lined with waxed paper and filled with rstewed beef and vegetables. "Oh, were you wearing my pants? I hadn't noticed, my eyes were up here." There's a joke in that. "I'm not sure, I'd have to get them off of you to find out." This more outrageous comment is accompanied by a wink and an even broader grin. "Maybe I should delay for a little?"
"Brydion, if you don't shut up and let me eat, I'm going to put your meat in my mouth and that meal's gonna go cold," Andelena says pointedly as she goes to find silverware and plates in their usual hiding spots.
The meal is enjoyed, and there is indeed a delay before the two Daeusites go to the temple to make sure the redeemer won't turn into a feral beast.