Raistlin Majere (
magus_majere) wrote in
filthhub2019-07-18 07:43 pm
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"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.
Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.
"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.
Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"
"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."
That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"
"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."
Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.
And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.
Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.
"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.
Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"
"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."
That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"
"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."
Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.
And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.
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Or that's the argument he might have made, had words been more of an option.
Instead, back to the staring contest, Raist's eyes slowly getting glassier and glassier as the fever just kept on building, until finally, he closed them. Miserable.
Thick velvet was real awesome with a fever. And his baseline temperature was already so high... but he'd wait until he was absolutely sure it was necessary, before he rasped out an even fainter, rougher, "Help."
A lot of people would probably have told him to fuck off, after he threw 'friends' back in their face.
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So this was familiar, well tread ground by now. That, and being asked for help not too long after 'friends' had been hurled back in his face.
Up again, at his side.
"Yep, what's up."
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"Feverworse."
Look, two words! Smushed together though, because he only had so much breath at a time around the wet glass shards and sand that was the state of his airway, supplied by his shattered lungs.
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Well.
Yeah.
He was being asked to do this. Sorry, Raistlin, there's really no un-awkward way to help someone get undressed in a situation like this. He'd move right in sans commentary, save for a simple, short "Yep." He knew what to do. Off went the belt, Wade actually taking care not to fuck around with any of the pouches. Anywhere he'd be directed, he'd go, working on layer after layer with easy, quick efficiency.
Again, it'd certainly seem like it was something he'd done before. Perhaps not in exactly the same context.
But with the degree of speed and care he was taking, it probably wasn't a particularly sexy context then, either. After all, certain chemicals from certain, supposedly banned weapons tended to soak into clothes. Stuck to the skin too long, it'd surely cause worse than just an idle chemical burn.
Raistlin definitely wouldn't be his first rodeo.
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It was a wonder either of them had feet!
Spell components off, the dangling bones clattering quietly together at the movement. Then the heavy, hooded cloak, which Wade would have to drag out from under him. The shoulder drape, and already they were getting into damp-with-sweat territory.
The actual robe was a lot more involved to peel off than it looked, hidden ties everywhere. But eventually it would come free, too, and that left an even smaller Raistlin in plain black trousers and a simple black tunic, laced closed at the base of his thin, golden throat.
And that was right around when he just sort of dropped off the movement train and went limp. Breathing, however poorly and shallowly, but out. Drenched in sweat and burning up even more than normal, which was saying something.
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But... eventually... He knew when he passed out, the instant it happened. His fingers moved for a brief second to the other man's neck to feel for a pulse, lowering his head to catch the sound of breathing, then of a heartbeat.
Once assured... Well, he'd keep going, of course. Damp and sweaty clothes wouldn't be helping the situation. Who knew how long the man would be out, and dampness wasn't exactly the best thing for skin that was pressed against a bed.
Not even healthy skin, which Raistlin's certainly was not.
Clinical, quick, once he was finished, he'd keen Raistlin's modesty firmly in mind; a sheet would be draped across him. A solid favor deserves another back, the other man had been so kind to cover him up, after all.
As for these sweaty clothes, well, Wade didn't know where the fuck he'd wash them. And he wasn't about to leave. He'd been told not to, after all.
So they'd be draped across whatever he could find to dry out, before Wade would take up his position again in the chair, to wait.
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And didn't eat on a regular basis, just as suspected before. Visible ribs! What meat was on his bones was wiry, lean. Not skeletal like he saw himself, but a far cry from beefcake.
Raistlin stayed passed out only for a few minutes in total before a particular spasm in his breathing ripped him back into consciousness, the mage turning onto his side to hack up a little bit more blood with his coughing.
But Gods, he felt a lot better in the fever department, in dry sheets.
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Between coughs, Raistlin might hear Wade speaking.
"Hey buddy, hung your stuff up." Right where he could see them all too, just to ensure that nothing was missing. The unspoken 'if you need anything else' was there as well, of course.
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"Appreciate it." Oh hey, that wry humor. And two words that weren't rammed together and barely audible, if still extremely strained. The tea was working. Speaking of, the mage reached for the cup with a shaking hand, not remembering that he'd drained it.
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He got up as Raistlin reached for the cup.
"Hold on, you're empty, lemme top that shit up, I still got some hot water to use."
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He was just worn out.
"Why are you here?" He wasn't complaining, but that text hadn't been intentional; he didn't even know he sent one. Without that little bit of info, it was a weird coincidence to have Wade suddenly show up to play caretaker.
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"Because you send me a fucking weird garbage text, dude. I don't know you that well, but I do know that 'hj ykyuh hjjjy j comma kjh' seems a bit out of character for you.
I waited a second for some unspeakable, evil outer god to pop out of the fridge first just to make sure though."
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Raistlin wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his hand, and then reached for the refilled cup. The long drink he took from it mostly ended up going down his throat, though drinking on one's side in bed while too weak to elbow up, wasn't a neat and clean ordeal.
"Ah. Perhaps when I... tried to catch myself."
Although when he went to put the cup back down again, hand shaking from the strain, he noticed the dagger glinting from the inside of his forearm.
And for some reason, that was rather funny.
Cue a tiny, exhausted laugh, that Raistlin tried very hard not to choke on.
Fuck.
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"Well, glad I listened to it." Not going to suggest that Raistlin wouldn't have been able to reach his room on his own, because that was breaking the bro code there.
Bro code number one: Bro's never need your help, they can help themselves, even if you actually helped.
"What?" He heard the laugh, after all.
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"...It may be the fever," Raistlin admitted, once his chuckling faded, "but... the knife being left on is funny."
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"The knife?" He glanced to the weapon he'd left strapped to Raistlin.
"I mean shit, you always need a knife, right? Clothes are just optional."
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"Clothes are rarely optional."
This man was a never-nude, thank you very much.
And a complete fucking prude.no subject
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He said nothing in reply, just stared with his eyes narrowed. Ho, don't do it.
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About his dick.
Especially about his dick.
"... Not my fault the sheriff's jealous of my dick." Look, the best sign for him that Raistlin's healthy is probably getting a knife thrown at his head, alright.
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Stop that.
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It'll be a solid few minutes, and I'll ruin the floor, and I'll make dick jokes until I black out."
.... But no really, he's done, he swears.
"You hungry at all?"
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"Of course not," Raistlin rasped, bitter, "if everything you saw was a decaying soup of maggots and ash, would you ever be hungry?"
He'd been a light eater before his Test, sure. Thin and dealing with extremely shitty lungs, and the Majeres had been too poor to really afford food for both of the twins at any given time... but otherwise, he'd been relatively healthy.
But after?
With his eyes as they were now?
Utterly repulsed, and for good reason.
"No, I need to rest. I--" and then he hesitated, here. Hard hesitation.
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But he wasn't actually getting up to get either food, or a blindfold. The man had still said no after all. At some point he'd be hungry enough to eat.
Rest he understood, he'd been about to suggest he go around getting some of that. After all, a three to ten second long brief bout of unconsciousness due to oxygen deprivation, pain, high fever or all three didn't really count as a nap.
".... Yyyyyoooooooouuuuuu......?" A beat.
"Aaaaaaarrrreeee changing your mind about food?" Yes?
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