( The sudden comment about a rug illicit a manic laugh from Emil, stung by something even so mundane. Despite being so bland, it feels dramatic. Who knows if he'll ever find out about this mysterious rug, which just makes it spill out that much more. A rug, of all the things.
Maybe it's that stupid laugh that causes Tuuri to peek in, though most likely it was that awful noise he barely remembers making moments ago. She asks what's wrong, his face and voice obviously already betraying that things aren't as they should be. Lalli's text is ignored in the meantime to make way for his rushed and sloppy explanation of what all he knows, then Tuuri offering her own knowledge, much more calmly.
What all she has to say is lost on him. Once he's asked about contagion parameters and been reassured that they aren't a concern with these creatures, any other information Tuuri might have is secondary. Even if his "I've got to go," might be seen as rude, his mind is too excited to process much of what is left to be said. )
You're not ifected Tuuri just said She knows, ill explain Where are yo
( It's only half-typed as he's rushing out of the door, looking from left to right, not knowing what direction he should even go in despite his legs absolutely itching, dying to move as fast as he possibly can. )
❰ he rereads emil's texts, then again, but it takes entirely too long to wrap his head around what's said. he isn't infected. how would tuuri know he isn't infected?
except right this second, that doesn't even matter. something both buoyant and heavy swells in his chest, and he's pushing himself back to his feet to make his way back to the edge of the woods. ❱
sigyn i think
coming home
❰ it's in a bit of a daze that he's leaving the woods, in part because he's no longer certain he's less than 24 hours from death, but also because as the fear drains from him, it feels like it takes the entirety of his skeletal structure along with it. he's been running too long, his knees feel like they're going to give out on any given step he takes.
he slips the compass out of his pocket to peer at it, double-checking his heading. at the very least, he knows for a fact that he's headed the right way. ❱
( There's absolutely no time to text him a full and complete explanation of things, not with how fast his heart and feet are going as soon as he gets some idea of where Lalli is. Sigyn is as directly across from Honir as it can get, but that's nothing exact. He doesn't want to get lost or miss him, accidentally ducking into Skadi's land somehow in his fluster.
As he stands in one of the main archways within the city portion of Honir, one pathway that Lalli can't miss if he's headed home, his legs still tingle with movement. If he could somehow pinpoint exactly where Lalli was without getting lost in a cornfield, he'd run there absolutely.
For as good of news as this is, Emil's brain is still on edge. Lower levels of emotionality could have been suppressed more easily; he'd calm down if this wasn't such a dauntingly long haul of anxiety. Capped off with the pressing fear that his best friend -- someone he truly does love -- would be turned into a creature? And then what might have to happen from there...trolls beget other types of trolls, so on and so forth.
That's a lot to try and shove away, while he waits. )
❰ it takes... too long, honestly. lalli's not entirely aware of the passing of time at this point, feet moving on autopilot in the homeward direction, but to emil? it probably seems like an eternity.
but eventually, his familiar figure can be seen rounding a corner. his sleeve is bloody, and his feet all but drag with each rhythmic thoughtless step. emil almost certainly spots him long before he notices emil, but once the swede moves, lalli's eyes lift to the oncoming figure, and a sort of exhausted relief washes over his usually guarded expression just in time for his knees to finally drop out from under him.
he's not collapsing all the way, but he's miles past his ability to stay on his feet so he'll be waiting on his knees and his dirty palms for emil to reach him. ❱
( It's true, but who can blame him? Lalli is distracted by the exhaustion of what sounded like a hellscape, while Emil is so much more alert and wired. The only reason he doesn't move sooner is the sudden overload of the image of his friend. Weary, bloody, defeated.
Enough so to come close to fully collapsing, just as he finds it in himself to rush forward, clearing the short distance quickly to almost skid to a kneel before the scout, brain suddenly unsure of where to start first. )
Oh, Lalli. ( Said with what can barely count as relief; his brain is still processing and diminishing the threat level that was once present, and even without some contagion to contend with? He's so worse for wear. The wound should be addressed somehow, at home, but there's a question of getting there. Lalli won't be walking again anytime soon, but that's not been a problem before. To ease the pressure of keeping himself up, Emil takes one hand under his good arm and the other to grab a handful of his shirt, pulling him forward so he can be used as something to lean into. He couldn't possibly begin to understand that level of panic and exhaustion; Emil has been pushed before, but not like this.
Looking down at Lalli, who he couldn't say looks so small and fragile at the moment, the process in his mind grinds to a halt. So much solace has combined with the stress of the past couple of days, with the true picture of it all finally pushing something to a tipping point. ) It's okay, you can go home now. ( Except it's very choppy and cracked, throat dry and trying to subconsciously force a sob from breaking free, though it's inevitable. There's no need to get choked up about this, he thinks for a second. Dirty, bloody, whatever -- at least Lalli is alive, and will stay that way. )
❰ and emil's tugging and pulling get absolutely zero resistance - not because he can't, but because he doesn't want to. he lets his weight sag into the sturdy support that his friend has to offer. his knees belatedly follow so he can at least pretend to support himself, clumsily settling beside emil's thighs as the hand of his good arm hooks up around the back of emil's head and his own forehead rests heavily in the hollow above a clavicle. his next exhale is shudder, the slow release of a day and a half of constant tension and fear he couldn't quite ignore. emil's breathing is unsteady, too. lalli doesn't quite process that it isn't the same.
'you can go home now.' the words were said a few seconds ago but only now sink in, and lalli's brow flickers sharply. he's not sure if he can, he barely stayed on his feet this long. ❱
I can try, ❰ he murmurs, with significantly more determination than he actually has in him right now. ❱ Just... need a minute.
( The feeble voice can't fool Emil, determination or not. It could have been a direct command to leave him alone, he's got this, and it wouldn't have been followed. Luckily Lalli makes this easy enough in a number of ways.
For starters, he's already basically collected the top half of him, shifting some weight back to his feet, Emil scoops his friend's legs closer before hooking them into his arm. A moment of readjustment is all it takes to stand up with him in tow. That's also helpful -- his weight is light enough as it is, but it's even less noticeable when most of his muscles have strained to the point of give. )
Stop trying. ( The task at hand has given Emil enough momentary resolve to keep his voice in check, switching to something that stops just short of being chiding; more a reassurance that if Lalli puts all that effort on hold for just an evening, his world won't collapse around him. ) You've been though enough already.
( There's no time or desire to hear any objections, should they come out. One more heft to make sure everything is secure, his one arm grasping more tightly to properly hold Lalli's chest up. Then it's a quick turn on his heel to begin walking them the couple of kilometres home. )
❰ 'stop trying.' lalli doesn't know how. already he's trying to pull together the energy to get back on his feet, a notion he only really manages to recognize as futile when he's hauled up into emil's arms. this is going to be exhausting, to carry lalli all the way back. the finn isn't even positive how far they have left to go, but he recognizes the fact that the entirety of his weight is supported by emil's two arms (instead of his back, like last time). he opens his mouth to object, but no words come.
maybe he'll just have to let emil do this.
the concept... comforts him, more than he expected it to. the faint residual tension he's held thus far melts out of his back and his limbs. his head shifts, adjusting to his new position, forehead falling instead into crook where emil's neck meets his shoulder.
it feels like the only thing keeping him from floating away.
which prompts him, in the interest of practicality, to mutter, ❱ Wake me up if I need to walk. ❰ because he's going to try not to pass out, but he also recognizes the futility of that struggle. ❱
( He'll admit, it is draining, but Emil offers no complaints. Stamina has never been his strong suit, especially not with consistent upkeep, but the laborious work on the house has helped to maintain and bolster his strength. It's not the worst journey he's been on by far, even if his arms are more sore carrying Lalli this way than on his back or by pulling him on a board. What he does know is that he isn't going to disturb the poor scout in his arms until he absolutely has to
Depending on how light he sleeps, Lalli may wake up as Emil pauses to trump up the small steps into the house, or at any noise of the people who are still there, talking, though much lighter when he enters. If his cousin or Klaus are present and want to hover, they're shooed away. The injury on Lalli's arm, yet to be examined, can wait if it isn't going to kill him. Or it can be healed while he's sleeping.
If not either of those things, he may find himself waking up as he's lifted and re-positioned on Emil's bed, a slight groan at the movement he has to put his numb arms through to put his friend down. He can hear the shuddering sigh Emil lets out, now feeling like this is as over as it possibly could be for the day despite a new checklist of caregiving he has to complete. )
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no subject
Youre not stupid you're the most capable person I know. Please dont spend time thinking like that if it might run out soon
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❰ it's not. he's still so, so stupid. ❱
think i found you a rug. forgot to tell you before i left
❰ a suitably stupid thing to talk about now, of all times. ❱
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Maybe it's that stupid laugh that causes Tuuri to peek in, though most likely it was that awful noise he barely remembers making moments ago. She asks what's wrong, his face and voice obviously already betraying that things aren't as they should be. Lalli's text is ignored in the meantime to make way for his rushed and sloppy explanation of what all he knows, then Tuuri offering her own knowledge, much more calmly.
What all she has to say is lost on him. Once he's asked about contagion parameters and been reassured that they aren't a concern with these creatures, any other information Tuuri might have is secondary. Even if his "I've got to go," might be seen as rude, his mind is too excited to process much of what is left to be said. )
You're not ifected Tuuri just said
She knows, ill explain
Where are yo
( It's only half-typed as he's rushing out of the door, looking from left to right, not knowing what direction he should even go in despite his legs absolutely itching, dying to move as fast as he possibly can. )
no subject
what
❰ he rereads emil's texts, then again, but it takes entirely too long to wrap his head around what's said. he isn't infected. how would tuuri know he isn't infected?
except right this second, that doesn't even matter. something both buoyant and heavy swells in his chest, and he's pushing himself back to his feet to make his way back to the edge of the woods. ❱
sigyn i think
coming home
❰ it's in a bit of a daze that he's leaving the woods, in part because he's no longer certain he's less than 24 hours from death, but also because as the fear drains from him, it feels like it takes the entirety of his skeletal structure along with it. he's been running too long, his knees feel like they're going to give out on any given step he takes.
he slips the compass out of his pocket to peer at it, double-checking his heading. at the very least, he knows for a fact that he's headed the right way. ❱
no subject
As he stands in one of the main archways within the city portion of Honir, one pathway that Lalli can't miss if he's headed home, his legs still tingle with movement. If he could somehow pinpoint exactly where Lalli was without getting lost in a cornfield, he'd run there absolutely.
For as good of news as this is, Emil's brain is still on edge. Lower levels of emotionality could have been suppressed more easily; he'd calm down if this wasn't such a dauntingly long haul of anxiety. Capped off with the pressing fear that his best friend -- someone he truly does love -- would be turned into a creature? And then what might have to happen from there...trolls beget other types of trolls, so on and so forth.
That's a lot to try and shove away, while he waits. )
no subject
but eventually, his familiar figure can be seen rounding a corner. his sleeve is bloody, and his feet all but drag with each rhythmic thoughtless step. emil almost certainly spots him long before he notices emil, but once the swede moves, lalli's eyes lift to the oncoming figure, and a sort of exhausted relief washes over his usually guarded expression just in time for his knees to finally drop out from under him.
he's not collapsing all the way, but he's miles past his ability to stay on his feet so he'll be waiting on his knees and his dirty palms for emil to reach him. ❱
no subject
Enough so to come close to fully collapsing, just as he finds it in himself to rush forward, clearing the short distance quickly to almost skid to a kneel before the scout, brain suddenly unsure of where to start first. )
Oh, Lalli. ( Said with what can barely count as relief; his brain is still processing and diminishing the threat level that was once present, and even without some contagion to contend with? He's so worse for wear. The wound should be addressed somehow, at home, but there's a question of getting there. Lalli won't be walking again anytime soon, but that's not been a problem before. To ease the pressure of keeping himself up, Emil takes one hand under his good arm and the other to grab a handful of his shirt, pulling him forward so he can be used as something to lean into. He couldn't possibly begin to understand that level of panic and exhaustion; Emil has been pushed before, but not like this.
Looking down at Lalli, who he couldn't say looks so small and fragile at the moment, the process in his mind grinds to a halt. So much solace has combined with the stress of the past couple of days, with the true picture of it all finally pushing something to a tipping point. ) It's okay, you can go home now. ( Except it's very choppy and cracked, throat dry and trying to subconsciously force a sob from breaking free, though it's inevitable. There's no need to get choked up about this, he thinks for a second. Dirty, bloody, whatever -- at least Lalli is alive, and will stay that way. )
no subject
'you can go home now.' the words were said a few seconds ago but only now sink in, and lalli's brow flickers sharply. he's not sure if he can, he barely stayed on his feet this long. ❱
I can try, ❰ he murmurs, with significantly more determination than he actually has in him right now. ❱ Just... need a minute.
no subject
For starters, he's already basically collected the top half of him, shifting some weight back to his feet, Emil scoops his friend's legs closer before hooking them into his arm. A moment of readjustment is all it takes to stand up with him in tow. That's also helpful -- his weight is light enough as it is, but it's even less noticeable when most of his muscles have strained to the point of give. )
Stop trying. ( The task at hand has given Emil enough momentary resolve to keep his voice in check, switching to something that stops just short of being chiding; more a reassurance that if Lalli puts all that effort on hold for just an evening, his world won't collapse around him. ) You've been though enough already.
( There's no time or desire to hear any objections, should they come out. One more heft to make sure everything is secure, his one arm grasping more tightly to properly hold Lalli's chest up. Then it's a quick turn on his heel to begin walking them the couple of kilometres home. )
no subject
maybe he'll just have to let emil do this.
the concept... comforts him, more than he expected it to. the faint residual tension he's held thus far melts out of his back and his limbs. his head shifts, adjusting to his new position, forehead falling instead into crook where emil's neck meets his shoulder.
it feels like the only thing keeping him from floating away.
which prompts him, in the interest of practicality, to mutter, ❱ Wake me up if I need to walk. ❰ because he's going to try not to pass out, but he also recognizes the futility of that struggle. ❱
no subject
Depending on how light he sleeps, Lalli may wake up as Emil pauses to trump up the small steps into the house, or at any noise of the people who are still there, talking, though much lighter when he enters. If his cousin or Klaus are present and want to hover, they're shooed away. The injury on Lalli's arm, yet to be examined, can wait if it isn't going to kill him. Or it can be healed while he's sleeping.
If not either of those things, he may find himself waking up as he's lifted and re-positioned on Emil's bed, a slight groan at the movement he has to put his numb arms through to put his friend down. He can hear the shuddering sigh Emil lets out, now feeling like this is as over as it possibly could be for the day despite a new checklist of caregiving he has to complete. )