WHO: Lady Liadrin
liadrin , Koltira Deathweaver
deadelfwalking WHERE: Elfhaus: Koltira and Liadrin's room
WHEN: The now.
WARNINGS: Elves. Again.
SUMMARY: Koltira's been through hell and his drugged-up girlfriend is too disconnected from the real world to provide him with any real comfort.
FORMAT: Para, then whichever
(
I can't see that thief that lives inside of your head, but I can be some courage at the side of your bed. )
Unable to tolerate this cascade of events, this perfect storm of sudden insanity, Koltira had left her right where he put her last night and gone to drink. He came home after several hours of imbibing whatever substance the bartender put in front of him, and though he was of course not the least bit inebriated, he was warm enough to feel a little more connected to the world and to worldly emotions. Koltira was already preparing a fresh plate of food for Liadrin when he heard her piteous cries, but guilt assailed him nonetheless. He ought not to have left her bound like that--she was clearly too apathetic to stretch the slightest muscle--but he had once again allowed his anger to override his reason.
Still, he brought her the plate with only a little contrition.
"I'm here," he said. "Stop shouting."
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"Sit up and eat."
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Popping a thin slice of cheese in her mouth, she leaned forward to take hold of his waist, dragging him to sit down on the bed beside her. "Or providing some small amount of comfort."
Analysis and advice were easiest to give with an unburdened mind, and as for listening to him, she could easily do that, too, for there was nothing she particularly cared to say.
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