WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!! WHAT: catch-all WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here
Pushing his nose up and under her hand, the dog lets her do as she will, and leans against her slightly to offer his warmth. It seems that more work isn't the goal at the moment.
The warmth of a dog on one side and the chill of no-dog on the other just highlights how stupid she was to wander out here without a coat, or a blanket, or something. But she couldn't stay inside, with the walls closing in and every shadow looming and dead faces stamped on the insides of her eyelids.
She huffs out a scoff through her nose, more at herself than Mado, but her dubious sidelong look is directed at him all the same. (It doesn't stop her from scritching his ears, though.)
"Are you just here for head-pats? You do make a very convincing dog."
He angles his head to find just the right spot for the ear scritching, his tail beginning to thump as his tongue lolls out of his mouth. He knows what he's doing.
"Just be sure to keep that tongue to yourself, mister," she says, giving him a pointed look, then holding the joint between her lips so she can use both hands to scritch both ears. "It's weird enough doing this knowing you're also an elf."
But, clearly, not weird enough to stop her doing it.
As most ear scritching goes, Athessa is soon scratching the dog's neck fur and his chest scruff (she will draw the line at belly rubs), and she won't complain if Mado ends up halfway on her lap like a real dog would under such circumstances. She sighs out more smoke and looks out over the water again.
"You remember when I asked you if you knew any of the funeral rites from your clan?" It doesn't really matter if he does; she's not expecting him to answer. "I was trying to remember because I lost my family when I was small. Too small to know how to do any of that myself. But I went back recently, after I did the research and figured it out. The rites, what to say, what to do and how. I even hunted a halla for the altar, though...I felt bad about it. Felt kinda...false,for me to do something so important, when I haven't really been a part of that life in so long."
She sniffles, and rubs at her nose with her sleeve. The cold can be blamed for the sniffling, but probably not for the shine of tears in her eyes.
"You probably know how that feels, don't you? Being part of something, but only based on a technicality? Yeah. The whole thing did make me feel better, though, I mean...I hadn't seen the aravel in eighteen years, and I found some stuff that belonged to my mum, and my nan. I shared memories of my clan with the people I'm closest to now, and they helped me mourn and celebrate the lives of people I lost."
Listening quietly, as dogs do best, the dog only stirs when asked a question, and even then only meets Athessa's gaze and tips his nose up slightly. Perhaps a yes, but he's content to not offer any human insight at the moment.
"And then..." Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat, taking a moment to pause the very important task of petting the dog man man dog to ash the joint and take another hit. The exhale is tremulous, testament to her failed attempts at regaining lost composure.
"I had to bury other elves at that Inn. I didn't even know their names; just the gods tattooed on their faces. Faces I can't— can't stop seeing, now. Cut up and sewn back together and stuffed like— like—"
Blinking through the tears isn't making it any easier to see, so she just shuts her eyes and buries her face in the dog's fur, hooking her arms around him. It's not quite the gut-wrenching sobs she had released upon Colin in the apothecary after he healed her shoulder, but between the cold and the images fresh in her mind she still shakes.
It feels like a long time, but in actuality is only a handful of minutes spent crying into the dog's neck fur, periodically wiping tears away with her sleeve in an attempt to keep him from getting uncomfortably soaked and snotty.
When she manages to speak again, it's to say something that only makes her cry more:
"One of them looked like my mum."
Though she still can't be certain that's true, or if it was a trick of the light or of her own mind under duress, the impact was the same.
A cry of reasonable duration later, Athessa's breathing slows, steadies. She loosens her hold on Mado, smoothing down his fur and making an attempt to wipe any wetness off of him with her sleeve.
"Sorry. I uh. Sprung a leak, there."
A sad attempt at humor, before she smushes the dog's cheeks and scratches his ears again.
Contentedly smushed, the dog's mouth falls open in a friendly smile, his tail wagging again before he closes his mouth long enough to boop Athessa's nose.
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She huffs out a scoff through her nose, more at herself than Mado, but her dubious sidelong look is directed at him all the same. (It doesn't stop her from scritching his ears, though.)
"Are you just here for head-pats? You do make a very convincing dog."
no subject
He knows what he's doing.
monologues at a dog
But, clearly, not weird enough to stop her doing it.
As most ear scritching goes, Athessa is soon scratching the dog's neck fur and his chest scruff (she will draw the line at belly rubs), and she won't complain if Mado ends up halfway on her lap like a real dog would under such circumstances. She sighs out more smoke and looks out over the water again.
"You remember when I asked you if you knew any of the funeral rites from your clan?" It doesn't really matter if he does; she's not expecting him to answer. "I was trying to remember because I lost my family when I was small. Too small to know how to do any of that myself. But I went back recently, after I did the research and figured it out. The rites, what to say, what to do and how. I even hunted a halla for the altar, though...I felt bad about it. Felt kinda...false,for me to do something so important, when I haven't really been a part of that life in so long."
She sniffles, and rubs at her nose with her sleeve. The cold can be blamed for the sniffling, but probably not for the shine of tears in her eyes.
"You probably know how that feels, don't you? Being part of something, but only based on a technicality? Yeah. The whole thing did make me feel better, though, I mean...I hadn't seen the aravel in eighteen years, and I found some stuff that belonged to my mum, and my nan. I shared memories of my clan with the people I'm closest to now, and they helped me mourn and celebrate the lives of people I lost."
dog audience
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"I had to bury other elves at that Inn. I didn't even know their names; just the gods tattooed on their faces. Faces I can't— can't stop seeing, now. Cut up and sewn back together and stuffed like— like—"
Blinking through the tears isn't making it any easier to see, so she just shuts her eyes and buries her face in the dog's fur, hooking her arms around him. It's not quite the gut-wrenching sobs she had released upon Colin in the apothecary after he healed her shoulder, but between the cold and the images fresh in her mind she still shakes.
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When she manages to speak again, it's to say something that only makes her cry more:
"One of them looked like my mum."
Though she still can't be certain that's true, or if it was a trick of the light or of her own mind under duress, the impact was the same.
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"Sorry. I uh. Sprung a leak, there."
A sad attempt at humor, before she smushes the dog's cheeks and scratches his ears again.
"Thanks for...listening, I guess."
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"Let's go back inside, it's fucking freezing out here."
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