nothingswarden

[nothingswarden]

"It is a relay point," Variks replies to the initial comment about the building's appearance. Really, his guess is as good as hers, but from what he's surveyed, a relay point for supplies and fuel seems like the best guess, given the proximity to everything else. Then again, why is he bothering with that right now?

Variks doesn't protest the guidance, the ushering to a chair and being told to stay put. As much as he might normally argue that he's fine, his old age doesn't make him something in need of protecting... It looks like anything else, right now. He knows he's not what he used to be, and while other Eliksni his age haven't fallen as far, fatigue drags at his every limb most days.

So he settles into the chair, accepts the cloak and pulls it tighter around himself. He looks up at Leah, and though the deep shame in him makes him want to look away, he doesn't.

"I am aware..." He murmurs. "I have much explaining, and apologizing, to do when you are ready to hear it."

Variks lifts an arm, and gestures to another corner of the room. "I keep spare supplies there... Ether, blankets... Warm yourself, as well."

he’s trembling, whether from cold or exertion, and leah feels her very soul cry out. 

he’s too old for this, she thinks, and rests her cheek against his shoulder. he’s been through too much, seen too much. europa is cold and desolate. he’s just an old man. how could the guardians leave him here? how could they allow him to stay, knowing as much about him as they do?

“yeah,” says the girl after a moment. she shifts his weight a little (one hand under his primary arms, the other throwing his— what happened to his right arm? new plan, then. shift to the otherside, careful to keep him standing, and throw his left arm over her shoulder.) and finally begins moving towards the… “why the fuck does it look like a gas station?”

it isn’t, of course. best guess, a radio station of some kind? a relay point? leah isn’t too familiar with golden age buildings to give it much thought. she doesn’t care, either. it looks like a fucking gas station, so she’s just going to call it a gas station. variks will live with it.

shouldering the weight of the elderly eliksni, leah begins to move towards the doors. to her utmost relief, they’re automatic; opening when the pair get close enough. mismatched eyes scan across the interior. cold, metal. the insolation is fine, but when the door keeps opening and closing, what can you expect? no wonder he’s trembling. no wonder he’s wheezing. 

he can’t keep going in these conditions.

gently, carefully, leah moves within the building. she heads towards the back, where the warmth seems to drift. his quarters, maybe? she finds a chair, eases him gently down. she removes the cloak from her own shoulders, drapes it carefully over his. one hand presses against the curve of his jaw.

“you're okay,” she says again. “sit, old man. let me get you some ether. blankets. i... once that's done, once you're feeling better, i'm gunna beat your fucking ass. you know that, yeah? i'm gunna kick your fuckin' scrawny ass all the way back to the tangled shore. but not yet. not now.”

[nothingswarden]

peachtiiime - hurting this old man :sinister: /j crumple!! //

             ❝ whoa- hey, it's alright. I got you. ❞ sundog loops themself beneath variks's side arms so that he could properly lean against them. they may not be the tallest guardian in the pack, but it didn't stop them from reaching out regardless. they worry about him constantly, even if they know he's far, far from being a child.

             ❝ you alright, Variks...? ❞

@peachtiiime ;; Sundog

"Variks is fine," he tries to assure, shaking his head. It was just a stumble, he tells himself. Just a mis-step, it happens all the time.

He knows that isn't the case. Eliksni live a long time, and the years have been hard on him, and he has seen many, many years. Outright collapsing was not as common as simple stumbles, but it happened nonetheless. Variks knows, others near his age have remained fit longer, have kept better fed and rested, have remained strong in their years. Those that haven't... cut down, but still far better off in health than Variks had...

Ever been, really. He wasn't always this sickly, this frail, but he had been one of the sorts to rely on wit where he had always lacked strength.

He's embarrassed, to say the least, that someone has had to catch him before he hit the floor. Frustrated, too, but Variks knows to mind his tone to avoid revealing as such. It is not the Guardian's fault he fell, and he has a responsibility to remain amicable.

"Variks thanks you, Guardian... Variks must assure you, this comes as a surprise to him." He warbles, and punctuates the sentence with a series of low clicks. "Some rest, and Variks will be alright."

It's a lie, but the Guardian has no reason to know that. Anything, to save at least a little face.

[nothingswarden]

That voice.

It's her. After all this time, she's come back. Despite it all, she has found him again. Even after he left, abandoned her after all she had done for him, not even leaving as much as a notice to where he went. He couldn't have, for his own safety, but he regrets saying nothing all this time.

By the time he could reach out, he no longer knew where to begin.

There is a part of him that wants to weep, just hearing the girl speak to him. To know she is alive, and that he has not lost the only person left who cared enough to want him around. He wants to, out of sheer relief that she has seen one sunrise after another to bring her back to him. He never considered himself much for family, but Leah...

Leah is family. Variks loves her too much for it to not be so. A grand-daughter, as it were.

His eyes slowly open, and he shakes as he leans his weight into hers. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have, but he knows the only wrath he has to face from the girl is her words.

And Variks can handle words just fine.

"Leah," his vocal synth crackles with emotion, and he clears his throat to fix it. Behind his helm, his jaw quivers in that way it does when one is trying to withhold what they feel. "Variks-..."

"I would like to sit."

Variks has tried- oh, how he's tried, to look after himself lately. He knows well enough what others would think if he didn't at least try. But he's older, now, and no matter how much he bundles up in thick furs and numerous blankets, there are days that the cold just gets to him and makes every old joint ache. There are days where he must sit, because even leaning on the staff provides no reprieve. That's not to speak of the times said joints have given when he goes to sit, or lean down to pick up a dropped object, or when the cold air bites too hard and the coughing fits are too much for him to breathe for a bit too long. Luckily, until now, nobody had been around to witness such things. Variks preferred it this way. His situation was miserable enough without random Guardians fussing over his wellbeing. It was easier, to be perceived as someone resilient. Yet, as Variks tries to straighten up from this last fit, he feels his knees start to shake. He feels the way his chest heaves as he breathes clearly again, and he feels the way he starts to sink to the floor, and he thinks please not this, as he faces the idea of spending a few hours on the cold floor. And then there are hands grasping at him, steadying him, and Variks squeezes his eyes shut in something between relief and mortification. He doesn't look at who it is, he just takes a second to appreciate that he at least hasn't fallen. "...Variks thanks you." Variks at last mutters, wheezing. | @nothingswarden

for too long, she has searched.

since that fateful day in the prison of elders, leah has languished in her loneliness. she would never admit it, of course. leah of no house is not weak. she is not lonely. she is an angry child born of violence and blood, and so she will remain until the day she dies. it is not in her nature to love. it is not in her nature to remain.

and yet, in that cold, iron prison, she found someone worth protecting. a pathetic, sniveling old man who struggled to breathe, who spoke with a broken accent. a man with intelligence behind each of those four eyes, even as he pretended to misunderstand. she broke into his office. she had every intention of stealing from him, just for the glimmer.

but he did not arrest her. and so she did not take. she gave, instead. brought ether, brought blankets. clawed every bit of information she could to sell, to trade— to ensure his survival.

and then the prison break. and then she was alone, again.

for four years, she was alone. refusing to build another connection, refusing to give up on the eliksni. he is just an old man, she told herself. he needs someone. and, though she is a monster, she has to be that for him. no one else will. no one else cares for him; not after everything he's done. (she knows what it means to be unloved. unlovable. he is not that.)

she finds him now on europa, and the base of her very soul aches. she had planned to come here and give him a piece of her mind. tell him everything he put her through. but he falls. his chest convulses. and leah cries out, running forward.

(he is old. he is weak. and this moon is so cold. she cannot help herself.)

"it's okay," says the girl, resting a hand on the side of his face. the opposite arm slides, to wrap around his middle. hugging him close, supporting his weight. "you're okay, old man. let's walk it off, yeah? let's get you in bed."

[nothingswarden]

“crumple” — (hope you don’t mind an ask from Yyventriz— @mantleoflight !)

((I don't mind at all! :] ))

@mantleoflight ;; Yyventriz

Old age has not been kind to the scribe, nor have the years spent running- fighting when need be- the years during the Long Drift during which many went hungry, and the lasting effect was not to be ignored.

Truth be told, there were many factors Variks could have attributed this fall to. None of them were ones he liked to admit, nor did he like to admit how frequently this happened nowadays. There was only so much he could do on Europa, but...

Someone had to be here. Someone had to guide those that wished to flee House Salvation, and Variks knew well enough those few would not readily trust a Guardian without someone there as assurance. Proof, someone whose existence confirmed it.

House Light is not a myth, the Guardians no longer kill us all without any care.

He had to be the one.

So here he is, on the floor of the fuel station after another collapse, leaning on his staff as he tries to stand once more. Every muscle in his legs practically screams in protest, and after a moment longer he gives up- just in time to watch someone approach the doorway.

"Greetings," he clicks, hoping the other hadn't seen him struggling to stand just a moment ago. "What brings you by at this hour?"

[nothingswarden]

crumple // leah is going to catch her grandpa

(( WAHOO YEAH WOOOO ))

Variks has tried- oh, how he's tried, to look after himself lately. He knows well enough what others would think if he didn't at least try. But he's older, now, and no matter how much he bundles up in thick furs and numerous blankets, there are days that the cold just gets to him and makes every old joint ache. There are days where he must sit, because even leaning on the staff provides no reprieve.

That's not to speak of the times said joints have given when he goes to sit, or lean down to pick up a dropped object, or when the cold air bites too hard and the coughing fits are too much for him to breathe for a bit too long.

Luckily, until now, nobody had been around to witness such things. Variks preferred it this way. His situation was miserable enough without random Guardians fussing over his wellbeing. It was easier, to be perceived as someone resilient.

Yet, as Variks tries to straighten up from this last fit, he feels his knees start to shake. He feels the way his chest heaves as he breathes clearly again, and he feels the way he starts to sink to the floor, and he thinks please not this, as he faces the idea of spending a few hours on the cold floor.

And then there are hands grasping at him, steadying him, and Variks squeezes his eyes shut in something between relief and mortification. He doesn't look at who it is, he just takes a second to appreciate that he at least hasn't fallen.

"...Variks thanks you." Variks at last mutters, wheezing.

[nothingswarden]

Send “crumple” for my muse’s legs to give out from underneath them.

Send “collapse” for your muse’s legs to give out. 

[nothingswarden]

🌺 “I WANT TO KNOW…” Prompts

A collection of random “I want to know…” sentences.

For Multimuses: Please Specify Muse(s)

“I want to know more about you.” 

“I want to know where you’re from.”

“I want to know what you do.”

“I want to know what you like.”

“I want to know what your hobbies are.”

“I want to know who your family is.”

“I want to know who your friends are.”

“I want to know what makes you happy.”

“I want to know what makes you sad.”

“I want to know what makes you angry.”

“I want to know why you’re hurt.”

“I want to know who hurt you.”

“I want to know why you’re scared.”

“I want to know what love is to you.”

“I want to know who you loved.”

“I want to know who you hated.”

“I want to know why you run away.”

“I want to know why you stayed.”

“I want to know why you left me.”

“I want to know why you care.”

[nothingswarden]

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