[open] can somebody please just tie me down

[thereneverwas]

WHO: Barrow + you
WHAT: Bedrest and recuperation from Awful Things
WHEN: August
WHERE: mostly the Gallows
NOTES: I'll make starters if people want 'em

I.
Bedrest is ideal for people who like to read, or sleep, or sit around pondering life's mysteries. Although Barrow likes sleep as much as the next person, and reading is fine, he has little use for life's mysteries and finds more often than not that he is simply staring at the ceiling and unfairly wishing ill on the medic who impressed on him the need for his joints to mend this way.
He is, perhaps, a little grumpier than usual, but also absolutely desperate for any form of stimulation, so visitors are welcome. Especially if they have treats.

II.
When he's up and about again, Barrow knows better than to go straight to the training pitch and start swinging his hammer around, so instead he defaults to the more leisurely activity of ferrying off to the nearest pub and parking himself there to absorb whatever jollity is occurring at the moment.
He probably drinks too much, especially now, with so much going through his mind; but it's hard to help it, when there's very little else to do and so much he doesn't want to think about. At least he's a pleasant and agreeable drunk, not all that different from when he's sober, but with the sort of absent-minded nihilism that has historically made him either a good lay or a recipient for one's woes. He's rather more open to the latter these days, though the former has its place, at least for the right person.

Comments

[thereneverwas]

Barrow affects a large-eyed look of great emotion.
"What did I do to deserve such sacrifice?"

[sulahnan]

"Maybe it's to celebrate you getting a teensy bit taller," she suggests with a smirk. Because he was on the rack, see? "But since when do you need to earn a little kindness?"

[thereneverwas]

He opens his mouth as if to retort, then closes it again, catching the joke despite any pretense he might make at being dull. He looks back to the kitten, who is currently getting their cheeks massaged by his large thumbs.

"...thank you," Barrow finally murmurs, and a bit uncomfortably at that, though his smile remains as best it can.

[sulahnan]

Athessa smiles at him, sincere enough to convey you're welcome or more accurately of course, before the cheekiness comes back to her expression. "Don't thank me just yet. I also brought a book to read to you, and I'll say right now: I'm not proficient."

[thereneverwas]

"Oh?"

His eyebrows raise as he cranes his neck over, careful not to disturb the kitten, who is now taking great care to settle down on his stomach.

"What book?"

[sulahnan]

She picks up the small tome, tilting her head rather than the book to read along its spine: "Meditations and Odes to Bees. I'm guessing...that it's about bees."

It's one that was recommended by either Julius or Marcus in her lessons, not one she picked out specifically to read to him.

[thereneverwas]

"...bees."

Barrow considers a moment.

"Does it have a good story?"

[sulahnan]

"I think it's mostly a bunch of poems, I dunno. It's just what I had on hand." She thumbs through it briefly, shrugging a shoulder. Next time she'll try to get something cool, like the Black Fox Adventures or something. "But I figured we'd smoke first, unless you're really keen to hear about bugs. Or whatever, ya know."

[thereneverwas]

"Poems," he repeats, sounding a little sad, but perks up.

"Smoke? What're we smoking?"

The kitten is still purring, nearly enveloped under his massive hand.
There are things other than tobacco worth smoking, but he hasn't done it in a while, and his interest is piqued.

[sulahnan]

"Elfroot," the book is set down again and Athessa takes the joint out from behind her ear. The match, too. "Have you smoked it before?"

[thereneverwas]

He thinks back on it.

"Ages ago," Barrow replies. And hesitates, perhaps considering that he doesn't want to be that manner of inebriated--

but who cares? He's on bedrest.

"Damn youths," he remarks, then beckons for it. His turn.

[sulahnan]

A typical dad answer if there ever was one. Athessa hands it over along with the match and trades him for the kitten, just while there's an open flame.

"Damn youths?" Her voice is tinged with amusement, whether because of the utterance or because Lord Fluffy Tumington is so content from his cheek scritches that he's gone almost totally boneless. Almost, because his paws are enthusiastically kneading the air.

[thereneverwas]

"No," Barrow whines when the kitten is bonelessly pulled away, but is willing to make the sacrifice for a pull off the joint.

"You know," he mutters, "with your mind-altering substances." His satisfied exhale yields a puff of smoke.

[sulahnan]

"Relaaax, I'll give him back," She assures, chuckling. "He's just not allowed to play with matches. Are you? No, you're not--"

Those last words are directed at the kitten, who simply blinks and yawns in response.

"Anyway, I gotta have something to take the edge off. And conveniently it's like...a cultural heritage thing."

[thereneverwas]

"Seems reasonable," Barrow mutters, regarding kittens playing with matches, but he doesn't have to be happy about it.

"Cultural heritage?" he asks, taking another drag and passing it back. Perhaps it's indelicate to ask, considering Athessa's an elf, but surely she wouldn't have brought it up if she were uncomfortable discussing it.

[sulahnan]

Joint passed, Athessa returns Lord Fluffy Tumington to his Barrow-shaped throne and fills her lungs.

"Dalish use elfroot for lots of stuff. Smoking and medicine, mostly, but it's also used to make rope and cloth."

[thereneverwas]

His eyebrows raise, his hand moving back to secure the kitten on his stomach.

"Dalish!" he exclaims pleasantly, "I didn't know you were Dalish." A pause.
"...sorry, is that..?" Foot in mouth??

[sulahnan]

She waves it off, easily. She's used to it by now.

"You're not the first and you won't be the last. I lost my clan before I was old enough to get the blood writing--" A finger draws a circle around her face. Blood writing = vallaslin = face tattoos. "--and I lived in Kirkwall longer than I was with them, so."

Settling back in her chair, she swings her leg where it hangs over the arm and blows a couple of wobbly smoke rings. They aren't perfectly defined, but they're a hell of a lot better than when she could only manage discs. She passes the joint back when she's done.

"I've never even set foot in an alienage."

[thereneverwas]

"Ah." He still feels a little guilty for plowing into the topic like a bull at a ceramics stall, but at least Athessa isn't too visibly offended.

"Sometimes it's like that." What a useless thing to say.

[sulahnan]

"Heh, yeah. It is like that sometimes."

Sometimes she thinks she ought to come up with a better name for what she is. To city elves, she's an unwelcome gatekeeper to a culture they sacrificed for survival. To other Dalish, she's either an outsider to be distrusted, or a child to be pitied and condescended to.

"Just makes it that much easier to go undercover, I guess. Well," she scoffs and pokes at her cheek. "It was, before Alaric gave me this souvenir."

[thereneverwas]

"Kind of him," Barrow muses with a sigh, looking her face over, "...well, now you've got a conversation piece for picking up all the ladies."

[sulahnan]

Athessa rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

"Sure, not that I ever needed help before."

[thereneverwas]

"So you didn't." He smiles at her fondly.

"Patched things up with Derrica, did you?"

[sulahnan]

"Not exactl--wait, what?"

[thereneverwas]

"It's none of my business," he replies, with the cheerful air of a prying housewife, "just saw you talking on the way back, is all."