[open] mama we all go to hell

[mostcraftiest]

Curufin is not at his best right now. Of course, he has not really been at his best since arriving here, in one way or another, but just the same. Since being driven back inside (as he thinks of it) by Caranthir, he's locked himself in his room and pretty much hasn't stopped pacing.

And it's not just restlessness and pent up energy, either; he

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[elven_irs]

Caranthir said he would be a shadow to his brother - and he's keeping his word. When there was no movement in or out of the room, he wandered over, pressed his forehead to Curufin's door.

And knocked, just to be sure he didn't fall on his sword, or something.

"Hey."

[elven_irs]

"Fine. Stay in, and bemoan your fate. Be in the dark, grow moldy, Eru, you might as well even grown a beard, if you like. Perhaps then you might like yourself a little more."

Hmph. Note how the brother isn't going, though.

[mostcraftiest]

"I'm not bemoaning anything," snapped. "I don't wallow in self-pity. What gives you the impression that I dislike myself? On the other hand, if you've made that decision, you know where the door is. Go ahead." Leans against the wall, half-closing his eyes, and only half out of habit.

[elven_irs]

"Ah, so dramatic, brother," he wanders over, picks up some dust from the table, then looks at the bed in disarray. "Your room looks like Ambarussa's," he says, "you're clearly not taking care of yourself. This isn't characteristic of my neatly organized and brilliant brother with the nefarious plans. Come now. Go take your shower, we'll have some ale. I promise not to sing."

[mostcraftiest]

His mouth twists, slightly, and he just manages to control it. What do you know about my habits? Again, petulant, and he dismisses it, but- "I don't want your ale, Carnistir, any more than I want your damned - help or whatever it is. I will survive. I just need time to - think."

[elven_irs]

Caranthir touches the desk, examines the dust on it, then looks back at his brother.

"Curufinwe, that is not thinking. That is wallowing. You do not think in a disorganized space, much less a dusty one. Look me in the eye and tell me it is not so."

[mostcraftiest]

A sigh, but that's actually a response, at least, and he looks at Caranthir, tired. But he's getting worn down again, slowly. "If I don't have an organized space, a disorganized one will do. Would you like to tell me what you are hoping to accomplish, brother?"

[elven_irs]

"To get you out. Moving. Doing things. I bet you can't even hold a sword correctly anymore, with all the wallowing you've been doing, and the training you've not been doing. Come now - prove to me that you can still be my big brother - that you are not giving up. You've never given up on anything, Kurvo."

[mostcraftiest]

"Not all of us have to train obsessively to maintain skill, Carnistir." It's a little heavy, though, and his mouth twists. It's habit forming, he wants to say. After all, I've lost all my fights recently. "I don't feel a pressing need to prove myself to you." There is, however, a slightly bitter, slightly mocking twitch of his mouth. "And here I thought you'd be relieved."

Quite possibly pretending to misunderstand what giving up he means.

[elven_irs]

"I don't think I could ever be relieved of a brother, if I can help it, Kurvo. Yes, even you -- maybe you most of all, because in a way -- we never saw eye to eye, but we are two sides of the same coin, like it or not. And you may be giving up... but I am not going to give up on you." He doesn't look like he's going anywhere either.

He did promise to be his shadow, after all.

[mostcraftiest]

I don't like it, not if this is what it means. "It's not up to you," harshly. "You can do anything you like, but in the end it is up to me what I do. In the end, you are still helpless. What are you going to do, Moryo? Hm? What are you going to do about that?"

[elven_irs]

"You think I'll sit around and watch you become a slug? No. I will not. That's not who I am or the way I act. Truth be told, brother, if I must strip you and throw you in a shower like a suckling babe, then so help me Eru, I will. And if I must spoon feed you, that that also I will do. I'd sooner spare you the indignity - but I will not let my brother down."

Spoon feeding. Not like it would be the first time he spoon fed a brother, too.

[mostcraftiest]

Curufin snaps rigid with indignity and stung pride, and nearly yells back, or snaps back, but he doesn't even...somehow, somewhere, he's run out of words. He's never run out of words before. He considers that for a few silent moments, and finds it unnerving. "--it's not 'letting me down' if I ask you to leave, Carnistir. I am still going to - make myself useful." Somehow. Eventually? If something comes up.

[elven_irs]

"It's letting you down if I leave when you need to know someone cares," Caranthir replies. "And I know you'll still be useful. You're fucking brilliant. Just need to get back in shape, is all."

[mostcraftiest]

"I don't need to-"

But he gives up. It really is habit forming, and turns out, seems awfully easy. "All right. Fine. Have your way, Carnistir, I don't have the desire nor energy to argue with you any longer."

[elven_irs]

"Was about time. Like I said," he points out. "You look a fright. Go wash, we're going drinking."