❰ it takes all of three seconds of consciousness for lalli to recognize that he feels more alive than dead for the first time since he emerged from the woods. alive, and restless. the gods are already preparing to march off to fight - the chaos hasn't reached their remote corner of honir's district and probably never will, but that doesn't mean it isn't as plain as day for anyone paying attention.
which lalli has been, because he's going with them. he and emil and klaus alike, which is why this morning, instead of carefully extricating himself from where he slept (curled vaguely around emil's pillow - he fell into this habit when they moved in and never quite fixed it, odd as it is) and flitting silently off to go about his business, his hand lifts to set on said pillow, fingertips alighting on emil's temple and forehead. ❱
Up, ❰ he murmurs, tapping a couple of times with his pointer and middle fingers. ❱ We're practicing magic.
( The light taps against his forehead stir Emil's mind, but not his eyes for a moment. Once they're open, it's an acknowledgement that he's got to get up and do something. His past few days have been restful, essentially just playing fetch for his still exhausted friend, and the break from house-building hasn't been taken for granted.
But mostly, there's something dangerous on the horizon, and today appears to be the day that they actually have to take action again; no more pushing it away.
Emil finally relents after another tap, opening his eyes and sitting up on his elbows, turning slightly to squint at his friend. )
Are you sure? ( The wound on Lalli's arm is no longer a concern, thanks to Klaus, but running so many kilometres over those three days...that's not something that can be healed with that simple magic. That level of exhaustion does concern him, even if there are pressing matters at hand -- especially considering Lalli is a stubborn limit-pusher. ) There's no problem taking another day if you need it.
❰ emil's not terribly hard to wake, fortunately. when he sits up, the hand formerly on his head drops down to the bed so lalli can push himself up too, pulling his legs in crosslegged. ❱
I don't. ❰ he says, without missing a beat. he may be a stubborn limit-pusher, but he's a stubborn limit-pusher with a ticking clock hanging over his head. he has to make sure they're ready. he isn't even positive what 'ready' looks like in this context, but he knows they aren't there yet.
but he's not totally heartless. ❱ Can eat first, if you want.
( After Lalli confirms his insistence, Emil finishes pushing himself into a sitting position, accepting that it's officially time to work. Likely harder than any of their other sessions of magic had been, with what's at stake. This is no longer a game of curiosity and attempts to brush the limits of ability. More like a bootcamp. )
Yeah, we should. ( Not that he's going to pass up a meal, but he's also sure Lalli doesn't need to skip any potential for extra energy still. Doesn't hurt to prolong the magic of not gearing up for war, either.
At least there's a stove now, which makes the prospect of eating that much more enticing. ) Go ahead and get dressed, I know how to make eggs.
...Sort of. ( Said much more softly; a little "I told you so" security in case they don't turn out that well. He's had only a couple days with the stove, and minimal campfire cooking experience. At least it's passable food. With that, he scoots forward to get out of bed, stretching upwards before slowly exiting to try cooking without setting their wooden house ablaze. )
❰ for his part, lalli sees no real need to answer aloud. instead, he waits for emil to scoot out of bed and follows suit - but while the swede heads for the kitchen, lalli pokes around for a hooded tunic or sweatshirt. he finds the latter sooner rather than later, crawling into it and making his way out into the kitchen to sit patiently on (not at) the table. ❱
Have you practiced? ❰ his mind is still on the training, though it clicks that emil's might not be, so he clarifies: ❱ Fire. ❰ not eggs. ❱
( As it doesn't take Lalli long to get dressed, Emil is still staring at a heating griddle when he climbs onto the table. The question his friend asks is more interesting, so he turns to lean on the counter that's currently home to four large eggs. )
Off and on. A few days before you went scouting is the last time. It's easier, moving the fire around. ( That was his main struggle previously. It now takes no time at all to form a large fireball, and he's found it easier to create in an open air space instead of next to a surface, like his palm or the ground. There's still some trepidation, however, about having enough restraint and focus to keep it just far enough from something to avoid accidental ignition.
Now, back to eggs; Emil gestures his head to the side. ) How do you want these?
❰ that's a better answer than lalli expected. part of him assumed emil wouldn't practice if lalli weren't pushing him. giving the swede more credit is going to be a lot easier than he anticipated. ❱
Good. ❰ it's pleased and almost warm, or maybe it's just the residual softness of sleep. ❱ The dead are quick. Your fire has to be quicker. And like yours, but less soupy. ❰ that last bit is about the eggs, in case his total lack of conversational cues failed to make that obvious. if emil seems confused, he'll gesture vaguely at the eggs to confirm. ❱
( Emil reacts to the response about the eggs first, leaning over to hold a hand above the griddle. It's...sort of hot? Hot enough to cook an egg, he thinks. He turns all the way, examining an egg before forcefully cracking it on the heating metal. The yolk and whites come out easily enough, but so do several small shell shards he attempts to jerkily extract with a timid finger before glancing around for the wise idea of a utensil. )
I can work on that. ( The terse quality to his voice is one hundred percent the egg shells, not the criticism. There's a wooden spatula he stole from Tyrhaus in a drawer, which Emil uses to scrape out the offending pieces. His voice also returns to a still-sleepy tone. ) There's still time before this battle, enough to get that figured out I think.
( On the subject of that though, while he tries to remember the best way to fold this egg: ) You reminded me I want to give you a few things.
❰ 'i can work on that.' terse or no, it gets a placated sort of nod. he knows emil can work on it. that's part of what today is for: working on it. but first, lalli's going to let him work on cooking them breakfast.
an endeavor he forgets altogether when emil mentions giving him things. ❱ What are they? ❰ he sounds wary, not unlike when emil asked him about his birthday. ❱
( His question is heard, but Emil is laser focused on the egg before him, deciding now is a good time to fold it in half. That part isn't so hard, but he's got a quick errand to run. )
I'll grab them, one -- ( Trailing off, he sets the spatula down quickly, turning on his heel to offer a gesture of patience while he runs to his room for a moment. With as much speed as he can muster, he undresses, gets into plain clothes and grabs the handles of two drawstring bags before rushing out and placing them on the table; almost immediately, his attention turns to the egg he left. Not yet burned, but also no longer how he'd prefer.
Looks like Lalli gets first dibs. )
You should take a few, at least of the pull-pins. ( If Lalli already began to inspect the contents, or would recognize them just based on close proximity to Emil's things, one bag contains about 15 pull-pin explosives, while the other contains about half as many capped vials of flammable fluid. The latter might not be so useful to someone without fire magic and in situations that require speed, but the explosives are more user-friendly and don't require much effort to make use of. )
Take a vial or two if you want. You can use it if you have a lighter, matches. ( The egg is hastily cut with the spatula, oozing enough yolk to be considered underdone still. ) Pull-pins are simple enough, but ( the egg is done enough, but now he has to scramble to find a plate ) I can show you still, if you want.
❰ it would've been fine - emil could've cooked first. regardless of the ticking clock technically hovering over their heads, lalli's in no immediate rush. but no, the swede's disappearing off into their room and coming back both carrying a bag and wearing different clothes.
lalli's eyes track his return, wrapped up in emil's cursory assessment of the eggs. but,'you should take a few, at least of the pull-pins.' oh. right. his attention turns to the bags now, swiveling in place to face them and working them open to peer inside.
he's turning one of the grenades over in his hands when emil starts talking about the vials. lalli hasn't even gotten to that part yet. he's trying to picture himself throwing one of these, and he's failing. too loud, too chaotic. not ideal. they make fire, though. maybe he should reconsider?
his eyes are drawn back to emil at the scramble, rescuing him from deciding just yet. he sets the explosive aside, slipping off the table now to claim two plates from the cupboard. one is offered out to emil, and he sets the other one nearby. ❱ Know how to use them, ❰ he finally says. ❱ Don't know if I want to.
( It's a feat that they aren't burned, but there's still a chance to mess up the second one. Emil was in such a rush that he's obviously dishevelled, newly donned sweater slightly crooked and hair uncharacteristically mused. Task management isn't his strong suit at all.
The plate is accepted quickly, griddle lifted and eggs slid on. He doesn't have to rush, but the second egg is cracked as forcefully as the first, though miraculously free of shells this time. )
That's fine. They might end up being more of a last resort. People on our side will be mingled in with...them, I'm sure. ( And he's not such an idiot to think throwing an active explosive near people on his side is a good idea, the presence of Wights or no. And yet if there's a hoard of them, it's a good way to burn and injure a large number at one time.
This type of egg doesn't require much patience, which Emil appreciates as he slides it back and forth, stabbing at the solidifying contents with a lack of grace. ) You have more control with the vials. They're just things I'd rather have than not. ( It's great that he himself has fire, but once those five times are up, that suddenly isn't true anymore. It's not the vault of explosive material he had available on the expedition -- which, he's quite sure could take care of this whole problem sufficiently if it was available -- but it's something. )
You should have them, ❰ lalli agrees, leaning vaguely against the counter nearby. he may be no good with explosives, but emil is practically a demolitions artist as far as he's concerned. especially combined with his god-fire.
(it doesn't quite occur to lalli that he might be biased.) ❱
And dragonglass. ❰ it's added thoughtfully as he steps into emil, reaching across him to grab the plated egg instead of walking around him like a normal human being. a fork is snatched from the drawer, and he heads back toward the table to settle back on top of it. ❱ Don't think they'll get past me, but... you need something close-range. Just in case. ❰ because make no mistake, he and his knife and his wind will be keeping the dead far from emil. ❱
( The suggestion gets a nod, and he leans back slightly at the invasion of space. Mostly to make it easier for Lalli, he surely doesn't mind.
He's gone quick enough, anyway, leaving Emil to toss his second egg on his own plate. It'll be easy enough to slide onto his plate later, but now he has to try not to mess up his own breakfast. Another sharp tap, scraping out a few shells, impatient staring. Might as well offer a more rounded response while he attempts to fold his egg in half. )
I've got a dagger. Went down to get one the other day, some medical things too. Not that I think ( oof -- after much concentration, he has folded his egg successfully! ) we'll need them if Klaus is around, but they basically foisted them on me. It doesn't hurt, either way.
( Now that he has something of a handle on his food, he takes the time to straighten out his sweater and hair. It says something about his level of comfort that these had gone unadjusted for so long. ) I think Tuuri and Reynir are staying so the animals and house should be fine.
( Emil turns his head, voice steeped in disbelief that this is happening still, thinking about how close they are to a war. ) In a little more than a week we'll be on our way.
❰ honestly, there's something inexplicably pleasing about emil's lack of attention to the finer cosmetic details he'd normally obsess over. the details he'd obsess over if anyone else were here, literally anyone - but now, he doesn't. and though he knows emil would prefer it in order, lalli leaves it as it is until emil fixes it for himself. he's kind of a shit that way.
'in a little more than a week we'll be on our way.' ❱ We'll be ready, ❰ lalli says, almost offhandedly as he pops a bite of egg into his mouth. ❱
( It doesn't surprise him that Lalli is confident in an almost flippant way. He isn't always like this; Emil has seen and heard him shaken and down-trodden before. The offhanded way in which he's sure of their capabilities makes Emil himself sure, as well as stirs up a small feeling in his stomach. It's an attractive quality, what can he say?
His focus turns back to his own second egg. Crack, shells, watch. Emil is quiet while it finishes cooking, finding it necessary to concentrate in order to shift his brain back to focus. The feelings he's been so concerned with have been admitted in two different ways, but that doesn't mean he'd like to ruminate on them more than necessary.
With the eggs finished and plated, he steps to the table and uses his retrieved fork to pile Lalli's second egg onto his plate before leaning on the table next to him to cut into his own breakfast. While he was thinking of something to take his mind off his crush, he accidentally looped around into the opposite activity.
After a bite and a swallow, ) You said something about a rug the other day? ( Because specifying the actual incident is another emotional labour he'd like to not return to. )
❰ if emil's the one falling quiet, far be it for lalli to break the companionable silence. he does steal a glance in the swede's direction, assessing his mood and finding it neutral-to-good.
lalli's own mood is increased even further as he's given a second egg, which he pokes experimentally with the fork to see if it's raw inside before cutting into it, satisfied with the texture.
he's a few bites in when it occurs to him that he should maybe thank him, but that's when emil breaks the silence, himself. asking about the rug, and lalli's mind reels back to the rug, then to the moment in which he mentioned the rug. why had he mentioned the rug? that was stupid. he hadn't even planned on coming back. ❱
Mhm, ❰ he confirms, swallowing the bite he's chewing. ❱ It's in Frigg. Think you'd like it.
( It's a hard moment to think about, it's true. After this war is over, which he's belligerently optimistic in the turnout of, then Emil is quite content to never think about it again. There'll be nothing to remind him of--
Oh, wait. Well. Perhaps the rug.
And yet it definitely feels like since Lalli told him about it, especially in such a harrowing moment, it's not something his mind should just let go of. )
I'll see for myself, then. ( Which on its own might feel more like a note that he's going alone, but it's clarified quickly: ) We've got to go pick out your birthday gifts, anyway.
( That's one thing he remembered about being drunk. It's in between bites that he gestures a loop with his fork. ) After training, of course.
❰ the mention of 'birthday gifts' earns a scowl and a vague grumble sound behind his current bite of eggs, but he doesn't voice any actual complaints. especially since that's just a hypothetical eventuality right now, fitted safely on the other side of a much more pressing thing called training.
emil doesn't seem to have forgotten, either, which saves lalli the need to remind him. instead he just hums an agreement, popping the last bit of egg into his mouth. he doesn't expect emil to be done already, lalli just managed to eat most of his first egg while emil was still cooking. now he's sitting back in the chair, legs thoughtlessly pulling up crosslegged. ❱
Should probably train with knives, too. ❰ it's an idle thought, at least for now - he makes that much known with a shake of his head and, ❱ Later. Not today.
( No, he's certainly not done. Being frank, he's in no rush to leave the safe and isolated confines of the house. It's been a time or two that he's swung in the direction of considering staying, asking Lalli selfishly to just stay behind and hole up in what is basically a fortress for them.
It's momentary, fleeting and dismissed every time. But it also doesn't mean he's currently charging forth to the front lines, either. Thus, his eggs are eaten leisurely. )
It makes sense. I can use a dagger...but if they're really human, it's different. ( He's had weapons on hand to fight creatures, inhuman in almost every sense of the word. An actual undead human with a weapon lunging at him, however...that, he doesn't quite know how to handle, and he can admit that. ) Tomorrow, maybe.
( His first egg is gone, then slowly his second. The inevitable has arrived, and training must commence.
The same spot they used last time is approached again -- it did well enough for them last time, so why not make it their lucky training ground? All it takes is a deep breath and Emil is ready to go. Actually, now that they're outside and about to begin, there's some pride running through him.
For as much prodding as it took last time, Emil quickly creates an orb to maximum size, hovering about a foot in the air. This isn't such a complex task now, and instead he's new focus will be on moving it around once he's created it. )
I don't want the wights to just walk into it, so I have to target them, somehow. ( He explains to Lalli, walking around the outside of his orb, feeling the heat radiate from it. ) I don't feel as tired after making a few, either.
❰ lalli, for his part, gives emil his space to work. it was simple enough to stand beside him when they practiced simple control and size-management, but now the fireball is highly mobile (or at least it will be soon) and lalli's giving it a respectable berth.
not far enough that he has to raise his voice to answer, though. ❱ That's good, ❰ he says, watching the fireball thoughtfully. then he's backing away a bit further, because his first request is: ❱ How quickly can you loop it around you? ❰ it seems like a fundamentally useful technique, to burn away a safe perimeter. ❱
( Emil stares at him blankly for a moment, never thinking about trying out the specified movement. The orb remains in the air, but he focuses his gaze on it, willing it to move in a circular position.
It's not the cleanest circle, and it lopes up and down in spots -- even scorching the ground in one spot -- but within 30 seconds it's made a full rotation around him.
Once that's complete, his confidence in doing it again is much higher. The next rotation is cleaner, quicker. This is a new discovery: he can just think of a movement cycle, push that into the fiery orb and it will do as he asks. After the third pass, he lets the orb dissipate. There's sweat beading on his forehead, both from the concentration required and the proximity of the flame. )
Not bad, huh? ( The feat makes him feel smug, looking for validation from his friend, who just happens to be a respectable magic user. Any praise from Lalli is important to him in so many ways. )
❰ the lack of consideration doesn't surprise lalli. it's one of the things he's trying to teach him, the drive to identify the parameters of his magic in full, to figure out all of the different ways that it can be used to their benefit. what also fails to surprise lalli is how quickly emil picks up on the movement, improves upon it. the swede never gives himself quite enough credit, but lalli has no doubt left of the sort of potential emil actually has.
'not bad, huh?' ❱ Not bad, ❰ he agrees in a pleased sort of tone, like he really means 'fantastic job' but is too finnish to say it. ❱ Should practice that more before we leave. Need something to keep from getting surrounded. ❰ oh, did you not expect lalli to count on you for his survival? because it sure sounds like that's what's going to happen. ❱
( It's alright; any compliment from Lalli is one he'll take and appreciate. He isn't one to dole them out without truly meaning them, so they don't have to be flowery or use more impactful words in order to hold weight.
Emil thinks about the trajectory of what Lalli suggests for a moment. He'd initially thought about using his powers in a more offensive way, but defensive also works. He can create an orb, then hold it on wights that approach too closely for as long as it will last. The thought itself is tiring, but that's the point of practice. )
Yeah, alright. ( A forearm comes up to wipe the sweat from his brow, breathing deeply. The weather is beginning to cool down, but it doesn't make much difference when you're that close to concentrated flame. ) That helps for distance protection...you can do more close range, too. Between runes and the wind, that should handle any stragglers.
( As far as he's concerned, they're conceptually untouchable. )
❰ emil's assessment is largely correct (lalli doesn't foresee having the time or energy to maintain any runes, but they would definitely help if he did), so the finn just hums an affirmation, all the while assessing emil's condition. sweating. tiring, if not outright tired. he probably shouldn't try again just yet.
so lalli can take a turn. ❱
Need to figure out what this can do, ❰ he says, mostly thinking aloud at this point, ❱ besides push things. ❰ because pushing wights isn't going to do much more than anger them, hold them back for a few extra seconds.
lalli doesn't bother to warn emil to stay back (it's obvious, he figures) when he steps out into the spot that emil's fireball recently singed. it's far enough away from emil not to put him in immediate danger while he picks up a wind around himself, only medium-strength for now, and scans the nearby area for projectiles. there's a rock right there, and another over there - and a third, that's more than enough. his hands linger not far from his sides, fingertips outstretched but not nearly so dramatic as the spread of his arms the first time he tried this. it's a reflex he still has to fight to resist, but he's learned it's not a necessary one. the magic will listen regardless.
which it does, as he flattens his palms a bit and the wind cuts low to the ground, whipping counter-clockwise along the earth, then whipping clockwise instead. working the stones loose until he's able to scoop them up into the air, where they too spiral around him at about chest-height. ready. waiting. he releases them at a nearby tree, one after another. the first two miss. the third hits, though not as dead-on as he'd like.
a flick of his fingers calls the wind back to himself, gusting around him as his gaze scans for further projectiles to practice with. but the way the wind circles tight around him makes him feel inexplicably light, buoyant - and all at once, he has an entirely different idea. by his command, the wind cycles tighter and tighter around him, sinking down from his shoulders and torso to his hips and thighs, whipping hard in the base of his tunic and the lacings of his boots.
and then, just as with the rocks, he tells it to push, to lift up from below. and so it does. his feet leave the ground, hovering first a few scant centimeters in the air, then working up to the better part of a meter, then a little over two. this isn't like when he was a dragon. that felt... surreal, like he was himself and yet not at all. this is entirely himself, and while he recognizes that this turn of events is utterly useless in the pursuit of killing wights, something almost like delight swells in his chest regardless.
the trouble is, he's not entirely sure how to get down. that takes a bit more finesse than he currently has, and his attempt to gradually taper away the wind keeping him afloat ends in the upward gust scattering altogether and dumping lalli unceremoniously onto the ground with a startled huff. by the time emil reaches him, though (because who are we kidding), he's already rolled onto his back and pulled in a breath to make sure it wasn't knocked out of him. there's something smile-adjacent at the corners of his mouth as he says, ❱ Was stupid. I'll figure out something more useful. ❰ because that was the point of this, wasn't it? to prepare them to fight? not to hover stupidly and waste magic. ❱
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❰ action ❱ day 123 (oct 10th), late morning.
which lalli has been, because he's going with them. he and emil and klaus alike, which is why this morning, instead of carefully extricating himself from where he slept (curled vaguely around emil's pillow - he fell into this habit when they moved in and never quite fixed it, odd as it is) and flitting silently off to go about his business, his hand lifts to set on said pillow, fingertips alighting on emil's temple and forehead. ❱
Up, ❰ he murmurs, tapping a couple of times with his pointer and middle fingers. ❱ We're practicing magic.
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But mostly, there's something dangerous on the horizon, and today appears to be the day that they actually have to take action again; no more pushing it away.
Emil finally relents after another tap, opening his eyes and sitting up on his elbows, turning slightly to squint at his friend. )
Are you sure? ( The wound on Lalli's arm is no longer a concern, thanks to Klaus, but running so many kilometres over those three days...that's not something that can be healed with that simple magic. That level of exhaustion does concern him, even if there are pressing matters at hand -- especially considering Lalli is a stubborn limit-pusher. ) There's no problem taking another day if you need it.
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I don't. ❰ he says, without missing a beat. he may be a stubborn limit-pusher, but he's a stubborn limit-pusher with a ticking clock hanging over his head. he has to make sure they're ready. he isn't even positive what 'ready' looks like in this context, but he knows they aren't there yet.
but he's not totally heartless. ❱ Can eat first, if you want.
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Yeah, we should. ( Not that he's going to pass up a meal, but he's also sure Lalli doesn't need to skip any potential for extra energy still. Doesn't hurt to prolong the magic of not gearing up for war, either.
At least there's a stove now, which makes the prospect of eating that much more enticing. ) Go ahead and get dressed, I know how to make eggs.
...Sort of. ( Said much more softly; a little "I told you so" security in case they don't turn out that well. He's had only a couple days with the stove, and minimal campfire cooking experience. At least it's passable food. With that, he scoots forward to get out of bed, stretching upwards before slowly exiting to try cooking without setting their wooden house ablaze. )
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Have you practiced? ❰ his mind is still on the training, though it clicks that emil's might not be, so he clarifies: ❱ Fire. ❰ not eggs. ❱
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Off and on. A few days before you went scouting is the last time. It's easier, moving the fire around. ( That was his main struggle previously. It now takes no time at all to form a large fireball, and he's found it easier to create in an open air space instead of next to a surface, like his palm or the ground. There's still some trepidation, however, about having enough restraint and focus to keep it just far enough from something to avoid accidental ignition.
Now, back to eggs; Emil gestures his head to the side. ) How do you want these?
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Good. ❰ it's pleased and almost warm, or maybe it's just the residual softness of sleep. ❱ The dead are quick. Your fire has to be quicker. And like yours, but less soupy. ❰ that last bit is about the eggs, in case his total lack of conversational cues failed to make that obvious. if emil seems confused, he'll gesture vaguely at the eggs to confirm. ❱
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I can work on that. ( The terse quality to his voice is one hundred percent the egg shells, not the criticism. There's a wooden spatula he stole from Tyrhaus in a drawer, which Emil uses to scrape out the offending pieces. His voice also returns to a still-sleepy tone. ) There's still time before this battle, enough to get that figured out I think.
( On the subject of that though, while he tries to remember the best way to fold this egg: ) You reminded me I want to give you a few things.
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an endeavor he forgets altogether when emil mentions giving him things. ❱ What are they? ❰ he sounds wary, not unlike when emil asked him about his birthday. ❱
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I'll grab them, one -- ( Trailing off, he sets the spatula down quickly, turning on his heel to offer a gesture of patience while he runs to his room for a moment. With as much speed as he can muster, he undresses, gets into plain clothes and grabs the handles of two drawstring bags before rushing out and placing them on the table; almost immediately, his attention turns to the egg he left. Not yet burned, but also no longer how he'd prefer.
Looks like Lalli gets first dibs. )
You should take a few, at least of the pull-pins. ( If Lalli already began to inspect the contents, or would recognize them just based on close proximity to Emil's things, one bag contains about 15 pull-pin explosives, while the other contains about half as many capped vials of flammable fluid. The latter might not be so useful to someone without fire magic and in situations that require speed, but the explosives are more user-friendly and don't require much effort to make use of. )
Take a vial or two if you want. You can use it if you have a lighter, matches. ( The egg is hastily cut with the spatula, oozing enough yolk to be considered underdone still. ) Pull-pins are simple enough, but ( the egg is done enough, but now he has to scramble to find a plate ) I can show you still, if you want.
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lalli's eyes track his return, wrapped up in emil's cursory assessment of the eggs. but,'you should take a few, at least of the pull-pins.' oh. right. his attention turns to the bags now, swiveling in place to face them and working them open to peer inside.
he's turning one of the grenades over in his hands when emil starts talking about the vials. lalli hasn't even gotten to that part yet. he's trying to picture himself throwing one of these, and he's failing. too loud, too chaotic. not ideal. they make fire, though. maybe he should reconsider?
his eyes are drawn back to emil at the scramble, rescuing him from deciding just yet. he sets the explosive aside, slipping off the table now to claim two plates from the cupboard. one is offered out to emil, and he sets the other one nearby. ❱ Know how to use them, ❰ he finally says. ❱ Don't know if I want to.
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The plate is accepted quickly, griddle lifted and eggs slid on. He doesn't have to rush, but the second egg is cracked as forcefully as the first, though miraculously free of shells this time. )
That's fine. They might end up being more of a last resort. People on our side will be mingled in with...them, I'm sure. ( And he's not such an idiot to think throwing an active explosive near people on his side is a good idea, the presence of Wights or no. And yet if there's a hoard of them, it's a good way to burn and injure a large number at one time.
This type of egg doesn't require much patience, which Emil appreciates as he slides it back and forth, stabbing at the solidifying contents with a lack of grace. ) You have more control with the vials. They're just things I'd rather have than not. ( It's great that he himself has fire, but once those five times are up, that suddenly isn't true anymore. It's not the vault of explosive material he had available on the expedition -- which, he's quite sure could take care of this whole problem sufficiently if it was available -- but it's something. )
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(it doesn't quite occur to lalli that he might be biased.) ❱
And dragonglass. ❰ it's added thoughtfully as he steps into emil, reaching across him to grab the plated egg instead of walking around him like a normal human being. a fork is snatched from the drawer, and he heads back toward the table to settle back on top of it. ❱ Don't think they'll get past me, but... you need something close-range. Just in case. ❰ because make no mistake, he and his knife and his wind will be keeping the dead far from emil. ❱
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He's gone quick enough, anyway, leaving Emil to toss his second egg on his own plate. It'll be easy enough to slide onto his plate later, but now he has to try not to mess up his own breakfast. Another sharp tap, scraping out a few shells, impatient staring. Might as well offer a more rounded response while he attempts to fold his egg in half. )
I've got a dagger. Went down to get one the other day, some medical things too. Not that I think ( oof -- after much concentration, he has folded his egg successfully! ) we'll need them if Klaus is around, but they basically foisted them on me. It doesn't hurt, either way.
( Now that he has something of a handle on his food, he takes the time to straighten out his sweater and hair. It says something about his level of comfort that these had gone unadjusted for so long. ) I think Tuuri and Reynir are staying so the animals and house should be fine.
( Emil turns his head, voice steeped in disbelief that this is happening still, thinking about how close they are to a war. ) In a little more than a week we'll be on our way.
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'in a little more than a week we'll be on our way.' ❱ We'll be ready, ❰ lalli says, almost offhandedly as he pops a bite of egg into his mouth. ❱
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His focus turns back to his own second egg. Crack, shells, watch. Emil is quiet while it finishes cooking, finding it necessary to concentrate in order to shift his brain back to focus. The feelings he's been so concerned with have been admitted in two different ways, but that doesn't mean he'd like to ruminate on them more than necessary.
With the eggs finished and plated, he steps to the table and uses his retrieved fork to pile Lalli's second egg onto his plate before leaning on the table next to him to cut into his own breakfast. While he was thinking of something to take his mind off his crush, he accidentally looped around into the opposite activity.
After a bite and a swallow, ) You said something about a rug the other day? ( Because specifying the actual incident is another emotional labour he'd like to not return to. )
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lalli's own mood is increased even further as he's given a second egg, which he pokes experimentally with the fork to see if it's raw inside before cutting into it, satisfied with the texture.
he's a few bites in when it occurs to him that he should maybe thank him, but that's when emil breaks the silence, himself. asking about the rug, and lalli's mind reels back to the rug, then to the moment in which he mentioned the rug. why had he mentioned the rug? that was stupid. he hadn't even planned on coming back. ❱
Mhm, ❰ he confirms, swallowing the bite he's chewing. ❱ It's in Frigg. Think you'd like it.
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Oh, wait. Well. Perhaps the rug.
And yet it definitely feels like since Lalli told him about it, especially in such a harrowing moment, it's not something his mind should just let go of. )
I'll see for myself, then. ( Which on its own might feel more like a note that he's going alone, but it's clarified quickly: ) We've got to go pick out your birthday gifts, anyway.
( That's one thing he remembered about being drunk. It's in between bites that he gestures a loop with his fork. ) After training, of course.
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emil doesn't seem to have forgotten, either, which saves lalli the need to remind him. instead he just hums an agreement, popping the last bit of egg into his mouth. he doesn't expect emil to be done already, lalli just managed to eat most of his first egg while emil was still cooking. now he's sitting back in the chair, legs thoughtlessly pulling up crosslegged. ❱
Should probably train with knives, too. ❰ it's an idle thought, at least for now - he makes that much known with a shake of his head and, ❱ Later. Not today.
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It's momentary, fleeting and dismissed every time. But it also doesn't mean he's currently charging forth to the front lines, either. Thus, his eggs are eaten leisurely. )
It makes sense. I can use a dagger...but if they're really human, it's different. ( He's had weapons on hand to fight creatures, inhuman in almost every sense of the word. An actual undead human with a weapon lunging at him, however...that, he doesn't quite know how to handle, and he can admit that. ) Tomorrow, maybe.
( His first egg is gone, then slowly his second. The inevitable has arrived, and training must commence.
The same spot they used last time is approached again -- it did well enough for them last time, so why not make it their lucky training ground? All it takes is a deep breath and Emil is ready to go. Actually, now that they're outside and about to begin, there's some pride running through him.
For as much prodding as it took last time, Emil quickly creates an orb to maximum size, hovering about a foot in the air. This isn't such a complex task now, and instead he's new focus will be on moving it around once he's created it. )
I don't want the wights to just walk into it, so I have to target them, somehow. ( He explains to Lalli, walking around the outside of his orb, feeling the heat radiate from it. ) I don't feel as tired after making a few, either.
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not far enough that he has to raise his voice to answer, though. ❱ That's good, ❰ he says, watching the fireball thoughtfully. then he's backing away a bit further, because his first request is: ❱ How quickly can you loop it around you? ❰ it seems like a fundamentally useful technique, to burn away a safe perimeter. ❱
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It's not the cleanest circle, and it lopes up and down in spots -- even scorching the ground in one spot -- but within 30 seconds it's made a full rotation around him.
Once that's complete, his confidence in doing it again is much higher. The next rotation is cleaner, quicker. This is a new discovery: he can just think of a movement cycle, push that into the fiery orb and it will do as he asks. After the third pass, he lets the orb dissipate. There's sweat beading on his forehead, both from the concentration required and the proximity of the flame. )
Not bad, huh? ( The feat makes him feel smug, looking for validation from his friend, who just happens to be a respectable magic user. Any praise from Lalli is important to him in so many ways. )
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'not bad, huh?' ❱ Not bad, ❰ he agrees in a pleased sort of tone, like he really means 'fantastic job' but is too finnish to say it. ❱ Should practice that more before we leave. Need something to keep from getting surrounded. ❰ oh, did you not expect lalli to count on you for his survival? because it sure sounds like that's what's going to happen. ❱
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Emil thinks about the trajectory of what Lalli suggests for a moment. He'd initially thought about using his powers in a more offensive way, but defensive also works. He can create an orb, then hold it on wights that approach too closely for as long as it will last. The thought itself is tiring, but that's the point of practice. )
Yeah, alright. ( A forearm comes up to wipe the sweat from his brow, breathing deeply. The weather is beginning to cool down, but it doesn't make much difference when you're that close to concentrated flame. ) That helps for distance protection...you can do more close range, too. Between runes and the wind, that should handle any stragglers.
( As far as he's concerned, they're conceptually untouchable. )
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so lalli can take a turn. ❱
Need to figure out what this can do, ❰ he says, mostly thinking aloud at this point, ❱ besides push things. ❰ because pushing wights isn't going to do much more than anger them, hold them back for a few extra seconds.
lalli doesn't bother to warn emil to stay back (it's obvious, he figures) when he steps out into the spot that emil's fireball recently singed. it's far enough away from emil not to put him in immediate danger while he picks up a wind around himself, only medium-strength for now, and scans the nearby area for projectiles. there's a rock right there, and another over there - and a third, that's more than enough. his hands linger not far from his sides, fingertips outstretched but not nearly so dramatic as the spread of his arms the first time he tried this. it's a reflex he still has to fight to resist, but he's learned it's not a necessary one. the magic will listen regardless.
which it does, as he flattens his palms a bit and the wind cuts low to the ground, whipping counter-clockwise along the earth, then whipping clockwise instead. working the stones loose until he's able to scoop them up into the air, where they too spiral around him at about chest-height. ready. waiting. he releases them at a nearby tree, one after another. the first two miss. the third hits, though not as dead-on as he'd like.
a flick of his fingers calls the wind back to himself, gusting around him as his gaze scans for further projectiles to practice with. but the way the wind circles tight around him makes him feel inexplicably light, buoyant - and all at once, he has an entirely different idea. by his command, the wind cycles tighter and tighter around him, sinking down from his shoulders and torso to his hips and thighs, whipping hard in the base of his tunic and the lacings of his boots.
and then, just as with the rocks, he tells it to push, to lift up from below. and so it does. his feet leave the ground, hovering first a few scant centimeters in the air, then working up to the better part of a meter, then a little over two. this isn't like when he was a dragon. that felt... surreal, like he was himself and yet not at all. this is entirely himself, and while he recognizes that this turn of events is utterly useless in the pursuit of killing wights, something almost like delight swells in his chest regardless.
the trouble is, he's not entirely sure how to get down. that takes a bit more finesse than he currently has, and his attempt to gradually taper away the wind keeping him afloat ends in the upward gust scattering altogether and dumping lalli unceremoniously onto the ground with a startled huff. by the time emil reaches him, though (because who are we kidding), he's already rolled onto his back and pulled in a breath to make sure it wasn't knocked out of him. there's something smile-adjacent at the corners of his mouth as he says, ❱ Was stupid. I'll figure out something more useful. ❰ because that was the point of this, wasn't it? to prepare them to fight? not to hover stupidly and waste magic. ❱
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