Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Printable Version

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-04-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-04-2019

"Okay, that's fair." It wasn't like he'd been stabbed in the chest with any regularity.

"Make yourself sleep?" she repeated dubiously. "Like a spell?" He was half of a wizard. That probably counted for something, right? She'd never seen him do magic, but that didn't necessarily mean he couldn't. There were a lot of things about him she'd never known, very clearly by design. Every secret she got out of him was a battle hard won and rarely on his own terms. He was as bad as she was about it. Arguably worse, because at least she had like. Justifications based on the fact she was a prisoner. Had been a prisoner. Had thought she was a prisoner. "Isn't that dangerous? What if you fall into a magic sleep and I can't wake y'up because I'm not a wizard and you can't wake you up because yer asleep, or..."

She was pressed as tight up against him as she could, her heart pounding in fear. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't.

"I don't have laudanum," she said with a laugh. "If I had access to opium, I would have done ever single ounce myself while locked in that fucking room." She sat up and pulled her bag off, emptying the tiny thing onto the floor nearby. A bottle of nightshade moonshine--useless under the circumstances--a bunch of poisonous plants, also useless, her tribute to the King, still in its protective box. A knife, needle and thread, a pouch of gold. Wrapped canvas paper, and a few charcoal pencils. She pulled those aside and spread the paper out. It contained a rough, hand-drawn map of the surrounding area, much more detailed then the last one. She'd been working hard.

"We could use the flip side of this," she said dubiously. "But y'gotta promise me it's safe, Gareth. I'm no mage. I won't know what t'do, an' I don't think real magic works on that whole true-love's-kiss bullshit."

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-04-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-04-2019

"Bleed on it?!" she exclaimed. "What kinda fuckin' sleep spell needs demon blood?" She really didn't like this plan. This sounded like a really bad plan. "Can we just use mine? You already bled a lot, Gareth, I don't think... I don't think y'should bleed any more."

Her fingers tightened on the charcoal nervously. "I dunno about this. Can't you jus' sleep the normal way? I don't want y'to move and I don't want y'to bleed an' if there's lines and I have t'draw them, what if I fuck one up an' put you on a coma or somethin'?" She wished she'd kept that book of arcana. It had been too big for the rats to move, along with the other books. They'd all been cleared out, like she'd been worried, but the important things, those the rats had been able to save. What she'd thought of as important things. Not books. She wouldn't have been able to read them to begin with, but now... now...

"Are you sure this will help?" she asked one more time, voice tight with fear. "Yer sure, there's no way I'll fuck it up?"

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-04-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-04-2019

"We can use mine, then, I'm even more human than you," Ren decided. She didn't think whatever else she was would matter. If anything it might help. "It's been tested at length, trust me, it only has an effect on rats. Other 'n' that it's human as can be." Much to her dad's frustration, all of the other tests hadn't really worked at all. And it didn't even work if it wasn't fresh from a vein, either. She was remarkably boring and useless for a mysterious rat child.

He tried to move, and she made a little aborted move of protest. Then he collapsed back down, with if anything, made her feel worse. He'd been moving before. What if he was getting worse?

"No, nono, don't move, here, here, you can do this." She pulled the parchment over to him. "You can draw it on this, and I'll copy it real meticulous onto th' ground. I'm, I'm good at diagrams, y'know I'm good at diagrams, once I see one I can copy it down jus' fine. Y'can even look over it after I'm done, t'be sure." She was frantic, shaking with desperation to fix the problem. He was upset, she could tell he was upset.

She scrambled over to him, kneeling next to his side, clutching the paper and charcoal. "We can do it, if y'can remember how it goes, jus' draw it on here and tell me th' scale an' I'll do it, I'll make it work."

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-04-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-04-2019

Ren let him pull her closer, as close as they could without risking jostling his injury.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice tight and scared. "I'm sorry, if I'd kept the arcana book I found, maybe, I'm sorry." She hadn't known how to get something like that through the walls of the King's Guard, couldn't read it anyway.

She wracked her mind for solutions. "Are there plants around here, fer pain? I have literally like a hundred rats here, and Byron." Precious Byron, who had a little bit of her in him. "He can go far, keep the others on task outside o' my range. If y'got any books on plants here, I can try to mix somethin' up."

There was a blizzard. It wasn't safe, not even for rats, but she was willing to take that risk. Hopefully he wouldn't be an idiot and put the value of rat lives over his own, or even recognize the risk.

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-05-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-05-2019

Ren was now given the unenviable task of deciding between rummaging around for a book of local herbs that could be used as painkillers on half-demons that may or may not exist somewhere on Gareth's many, many shelves, or remaining in his arms, which at least seemed to grant him some limited comfort. She didn't really know what good cuddling would do, in the grand scheme of things, but she also didn't want to leave him alone. He didn't seem like the kind of person who wouldn't mind if she replaced human warmth with the warmth of dozens of rats, so that was right out.

Also the book would need to be very illustrated, because she was stupid and useless, et cetera.

"All you have t'do," she reasoned, "is make it through the worst of th' storm. Then I can send a stupid pigeon to th' castle and Avi will be here so fast. He can bring a doctor. All you have t'do is wait out the blizzard, okay?" There was a note of strained desperation in her voice. It seemed like if he was going to die, he would have by now, but you really couldn't be sure about this sort of thing.

"I," she decided suddenly, "will take care of everythin'. I'll make sure there's wood for the fires and cook dinner and make tea that ain't garbage. I'll feed the chickens. An' also you." She could do this. She had spent the entire autumn fantasizing about doing this sort of thing. She had hundreds of hours of imaginary practice time. "It'll be amazin'. You'll never have seen me be so productive in yer life."

She'd keep Byron out in the stables, she decided, to keep an eye on things there. She'd send another good, sturdy rat out into the chicken coop, just in case. A small one, though, or it would just distress them. And rats could help with most things, like mechanics, so it stood to reason they could also help cook. As long as she didn't let them anywhere near the food. Actually, she probably should have washed her hands long before this moment, even if she had been wearing gloves while crawling through sewage. If he died of a horrible infection because she was a filthy sewer-crawling rat girl, she'd never forgive herself.

"D'you need me to stay here for now?" she asked, reaching up to run a hopefully-not-plague-ridden hand over his cheek.

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-06-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-06-2019

If they were really rats with wings, this whole thing would be a lot easier. ...But they had been staring at her a lot earlier. Pigeons had never reacted to her before, that she knew of. It's certainly something her dad would have checked for. But... things had been weird, since she'd died a little bit. Weird in nebulous, hard to pin down ways, enough that she was pretty sure it was all in her head... But also she kind of had produced what could only be described as a banshee screech earlier and she was genuinely not sure if that was a normal noise for human women to make upon thinking their Gareth was dead.

Maybe she'd... poke around... up there. While Gareth was down here and couldn't object to it. Worst thing it could do was not work, and Gareth would never know she'd tried evil magicks with his pigeons or whatever.

"An' yer giant pet elk," she pointed out. "That seems pretty smart." Maybe it would be good if she kept him talking. If he was talking the whole time she wasn't glued to his side, she'd feel better. But also, talking seemed to hurt him, so maybe just. Intermittent statements. So she knew he wasn't dead.

She was very worried if she looked away for longer than a few seconds, he'd stop breathing and it would be her fault because she was an easily distractable fool.

But even as she opened her mouth to deny needing to eat, her stomach all but took her hostage, explaining in low tones that if she did anything but take the nice man up on his offer of food, it would end her on the spot. And now that he knew she hadn't eaten well in uuuuuuuh a year, well. He wouldn't listen to her if she said one more lie that she wasn't hungry.

Also, she was kind of sick of lying to him, and didn't think she wanted to do it anymore.

She pressed another quick kiss to his lips--it just seemed like she should be doing that a lot, was all--before standing up to begin exploring. "If y'need somethin', anythin', just say somethin'. Or gurgle. I'll stop by every few minutes to check on ya. The wood stove wasn't exactly far from the rest of the kitchen. It'd be fine. They'd be fine. "Nothin' is exactly what we're both fuckin' terrible at doing, so how 'bout instead of nothin' you breathe and think about somethin' pleasant, like..." She faltered. She had no idea what he would find pleasant. She had about a hundred extended fantasy universes to descend into at a moment's notice, but most of them were things he'd probably hate, because they involved her loose in his cabin, the reality that he was in fact having to suffer through at this exact moment. "An' extremely organized set of drawers?" she guessed helplessly.

She went to the bathroom, first, just long enough to wash her hands. His soap was pleasantly scented, because of course it was. His bathtub was comically huge, because it would need to be.

On her way out of the bathroom, she pulled her shawl off, finally, and hung it over the back of a chair. She didn't want to get it dirty with cooking, and given that she had literally never once cooked in a kitchen before in her entire life, she suspected things were about to get messy.

She was uncertain of exactly what a larder was, but she followed his directions back to it anyway. It turned out to be a cold little corner nestled under the stairs with a large wooden structure filled with insanely meticulously organized bottles, baskets, jars, and drawers.

Everything was labeled, because she was allowed one single lucky break per year and this was hers. It would only help so much, because she still didn't know what she was supposed to do with any of it. She passed over all the herbs in little round stoppered bottles that hung on a shelf that looked custom-made for them, and managed to find herself in the canned goods for the winter section. These were probably all vegetables from his garden. She hadn't had any fantasies about canning. She was going to have to learn about canning, so she could. It seemed rife with potential material.

She grabbed a jar with what she was pretty sure were mushrooms inside, because she at least knew she liked mushrooms and didn't think the pickling process would change that much. Byron informed her there was a root cellar absolutely full of meat that he was no longer allowed to go to. She kept that in mind as a backup plan. Anything that might require her to go outside was put on hold.

She brought her meager prizes into the kitchen and rummaged around a bit more. There was bread, and eggs, and some fish and cheese that had already been half-eaten. She could probably sit here and eat bread, fish, cheese, and mushrooms and be perfectly happy, but she wanted to give Gareth a meal that was an actual meal. She bit her lip, then rummaged around the nearby shelves until she found something that looked like a cookbook, and opened it.

Oh god.

She closed it and put it back on the shelf.

Okay. She remembered food. She knew about foods. They had omelettes in the cafeteria at work. She could figure out how to make an omelette. You just... eggs... and... stuff... in a pan... and scrambled it all up, right? She popped the jar of mushrooms open, sniffed at it, and popped one in her mouth while she continued exploring. They were vinegary and not as mushroomy as she expected, but still good.

"Gareth?" she called out nervously. "What d'you put in an omelette?" She glanced down, realizing she was half climbing onto his cabinets to reach higher places designed for a man eight feet tall. "An' also do y'have a step stool."

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-07-2019

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - SolitareLee - 12-07-2019

Nighthoof was quickly categorized into the same "totally not a pet I swear" category as Gareth's obviously-pet wolf. Although since the wolf didn't appear to be there during a blizzard, that whole thing held a bit more water. She was willing to believe maybe the giant elk with the flowering horns wasn't actually a pet, though. It didn't feel right. It felt more like Phoebe or Byron but... off. Sideways. It was hard to describe. She definitely suspected it would not care for her under ordinary circumstances, although Baby had seemed to like her well enough.

Ren had been hoping for a bit more... practical advice than "whatever you want." She appreciated his generosity, but she'd never eaten, let alone made, an omelette. She was... just going to have to wing it. She'd just eat some of everything before she put it in there. It'd be fine. She could figure this out.

Nodding with determination, she headed back into his pantry, and the sound of clattering soon followed. She went through the drawers one at a time in search of semi-fresh produce. From what she'd tasted of the pickled mushrooms, she couldn't imagine they'd pair well with eggs. He had some kind of... smoked... ham thing... in like a basket? Which seemed weird across the board but it tasted good so she cut off a chunk that was hopefully a reasonable size.

It took her a while, and it was probably distressingly noisy to Gareth, particularly when she bit into a raw onion to figure out what it was and let out a cry of distress. She hadn't known that onions came that small. Or that shape. There would probably be a moment of discovery later, when Gareth would wonder why there was an artichoke with a bite out of it, but she did manage to find some stuff she thought would work. Eventually, she came out with a wonky carrot, the remnants of the unfortunate onion, some spinach, several brussels sprouts, a cauliflower, the ham, and a few different kinds of cheese. She knew cheese was good, and could hopefully save whatever abomination she was about to make.

Following Gareth's advice, she pulled a chair up to the oven. Then she realized that even standing on a chair, she couldn't reach his fucking pans, which were hanging unreasonably high. She considered having a rat drop one on her, and then decided just as quickly against it. She also decided against jumping for similar reasons. She glanced over at Gareth; he didn't appear to be watching. Quickly, she kicked off her shoes and climbed up onto the counter, just long enough to grab the nearest pan. It would have to suffice.

Figuring out how one worked the stove itself, fortunately, was extremely straightforward. Fire hot. Put pan in designated hot flat space. She was a fucking engineer; if she couldn't figure out a stove, she'd be in real trouble.

She heated "some" (far too much) butter in a pan while she took a knife too large for her hand to the vegetables and meat she'd gathered. She was good with a knife, but this wasn't the kind she was accustomed to using nor the manner in which she was accustomed to using it. She managed to get them into edible-sized chunks, even if they were pretty uneven.

Once the butter had melted, she realized she had completely forgotten to whisk the eggs, and also wasn't one hundred percent clear on what the verb "whisk" meant in this context. She quickly grabbed the nearest mug, which was mercifully not nine feet in the air, cracked too many eggs into it, awkwardly and with a lot of shell removal afterwards. She added what she hoped was the right amount of salt (it was not), before having at it as best she could with a fork.

The butter was too hot by the time she got the eggs in, and they started solidifying immediately, so she started chucking in the other ingredients right away. The spinach shark down alarmingly. She probably should have gotten a lot more. Oh well. If she just added enough cheese it would hopefully be fine. Or at least edible. She kept lifting the pan up off the heat, terrified that it would burn on bottom. She put the cheese in as last minute as she could, and then began the arduous task of tryign to flip the thing in half. There was a lot of swearing.

The end result, which she plopped onto a plate, was somehow not burned, although quite brown, and not scrambled eggs but also folded terribly. The top half hung droopily over the bottom. But it seemed edible. It was an edible, overcooked, over-salted, carrot-cauliflower-onion-brussels-sprout-ham-cheese omelette. Her first ever cooked meal. Triumphant, she brought it over to Gareth on a plate, along with the jar of pickled mushrooms, which she'd decided she liked quite a bit.

"I didn't burn th' house down!" she told him enthusiastically. This had been her low bar to surpass, and she was probably as surprised as he was that she'd managed it. "An' I think it's even edible!" She took her fork, cut into it, and took a bite.

She made a face.

"...Technically," she said with a sigh. She was sure it wouldn't kill him, at least. "D'you... wanna try some?" she asked hopefully. "Or I could jus'... bring you some bread an' cheese." She'd understand. Having cooked one's first meal was surely a triumph and a night to remember, but kind of like any other first times, that didn't mean it would be particularly memorable or enjoyable for any other parties involved.

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RE: Beg Forgiveness [Closed] - Tindome - 12-08-2019

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