shatterverse | (no subject)

Current Location: US 34, Western Iowa

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(no subject)

It starts the usual way: A flash, a bang, a person standing, disoriented, near a long stretch of deserted road.

But this man falls to his knees-

(thousands of voices; screaming, crying in his head; anger and despair and everything in between, and he can’t fight, can’t ignore, can’t resist them; stop, stop, Goddess why won’t it STOP)

-and clutches his head, letting loose an agonized shout of surprise.

Then it's over, and it's like it never was.

Jamie lowers his hands, noticing in a detached manner that short strands of blond hair come away in his fingers, and sits back on his haunches, blinking. The last thing he remembers is laughing at a joke -- a bad one, with three tavern wenches and a statue -- and climbing a ladder to get at the apples high in an Olau tree. His shirt still smells like the orchard: sun and fruit and green, growing things. Had he fallen? Is this a fevered hallucination brought on by his broken body and healing magic gone wrong? Grace never could get the hang of it. She’s probably given him an extra thumb.

No. All’s right with that.

Digging his fingers into the earth beside the road, he watches it sift back to the ground. It's chunky and rough, but not dry. Even so, it's clearly not the smooth, dark soil of Olau. Jamie sniffs his hand, frowns and pulls himself to his feet. The road crests a hill to the west. Maybe there's something on the other side to explain what's happened; maybe not. Nothing to do, he supposes, but to start walking.

He'll get back to the pain (voices) in his head later. When the mood strikes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The disrobing was a team-effort by Dan and Ethan. Somewhat conveniently, Eleanor had been on hand to observe proceedings however.

"I'm here," she replies from close by, sounding reassuringly calm.

"Welcome back, AJ."

She's lounging next to him in a black t-shirt and functional boy-short style underwear, on top of the covers of a comfortable Queen sized bed. There's considerable bandaging around one thigh, and there are numerous band-aids patching her arms and legs. Several blotches of heavily-purpled skin and some nasty-looking abrasions complete the catalog of injuries about her person.

For what it's worth though, her head and face are unscathed, and she doesn't seem to be in any pain.

"That was some swoon," she continues, smirking now. "I know I'm hot, but... damn."

Her attire is noted, and is also possibly the reason he takes several moments to respond.

"I did not swoon," he tells her emphatically. Then, regarding her injuries, he frowns. Gruffly: "Are you all right?"

He feels silly piled beneath the covers while she's on top, but if by some chance she wasn't the person who undressed him, he doesn't relish the thought of flashing his loincloth. Because Jamie knows about boxers; Adam had always had his made by a trustworthy seamstress (Eleni). Jamie had opted to stay native long ago.

Jamie doesn't need to worry about that—his undergarment has already been seen. It resulted in some amusement, and some curiosity. Eleanor is of the opinion that it needs a far more thorough examination at some point in the future, in the name of cultural research.

"I've been better. Nothing majorly wrong though. Just cuts and bruises and a hole in my leg. You beat me by a few broken bones."

She brings a lazy smile to bear on him.

"I'm guessing you don't feel too great."

"You have keen powers of observation."

Pushing himself up enough to meet her eyes, he gives her a lopsided grin.

"Where are we? I doubt you could have had this many bandages in your motorbike."

Not without magic.

After matching his expression with a grin of her own, Eleanor rolls away from him and collects a bottle of water (two-thirds full) and two maroon colored tablets from the night stand on her side of the bed. She rolls back and hands them to him, water first, then Ibuprofen.

"This is the village we were making for. We're at Ethan and Emily's place. Dunno if you saw them before you blacked out, but they're the couple who came to our rescue in the truck, with their son, Dan. They patched us up too."

"Swallow those," she then instructs, referencing the pills. "They'll take the edge off the pain."

"So would a drink," he grumbles good-naturedly.

Dubious, Jamie eyes the small, round pills. At home, healing had a more... personal touch. He finds himself mildly disappointed that Eleanor doesn't, couldn't, have a Tortallan Gift. On the other hand, it's not often a Healer will administer relief while sharing a bed with the patient, which is definitely welcome here but a relief in and of itself if one considers most of the Healers he knows...

Clearing his throat, Jamie bites his lip and reins in his thoughts. Right: Pain relief and village, in that order. He swallows one tablet, then the other, and smiles absently.

"Kind of them. I'll be sure to offer my thanks." Beat. "How exactly did they manage it?"

Those trees weren't f-ing around, as they say.

Eleanor gives him a fond smile and nods at the water bottle.

"That'll have to do for now. There may be some booze around here for later though, I dunno."

She shrugs, and nestles back down onto her pair of pillows.

"As for what happened, not too sure. I was trying not to get beaten to death at the time. Next thing I know, the trees were falling back and those guys were on the scene. They never really offered an explanation."

Which... now that she thinks about it, is kinda odd. Then again, she never asked for one.

One sip isn't enough. Jamie laughs quietly at the mention of something stronger, but his parched mouth and throat demand more water. He listens, finishing the bottle in what looks like an effortless, unstoppable swill. Then, eyes intent, he gives the room a more thorough examination than the cursory glance he'd allowed it earlier.

It's simple and sparsely decorated, but comfortable. The wood accents remind him of his father's cabin. The bed itself is incredibly soft and dips toward the middle; if either of them opts for sleeping sideways, they might roll together in the center during the night and get hopelessly tangled.

He really needs to stop thinking about the bed.

"Perhaps this is why the trees fear them," he suggests, half-serious, and nods to the wood furniture and floor. "I'm surprised they put us-" His eyes narrow slightly, giving him a curious and almost amused air of suspicion. "Do they think we're married?"

Eleanor snorfles at his setting-inspired suggestion.

"Very possibly."

His cultural naivety is so cute. Smiling whimsically now, she reaches over and starts twirling a stray curl of his hair between her fingers.

"They never asked. And I didn't tell them we weren't."

"We don't have rings though. More likely they just think we're a couple living in sin. It's not that big of a deal here in America. Especially not post-apocalypse."

"Appearances are everything at Court," Jamie replies, a touch enigmatically, as his expression softens to content distraction. His hand, large and rough, wraps around hers as if he means to pull it away from its task, but instead he merely strokes his thumb along her palm. "Truth is of less concern."

Unmarried relationships are not unheard of or even uncommon in Tortall; nor are they typically flaunted, for the sake of honor, which has led to many late night departures through bedroom windows or down shadowed corridors for Jamie. At least here it seems he can stay in one spot until dawn.

He's completely unable to check his slow moving grin, and presses a kiss to the back of her hand before letting go.

"I'm not certain I approve of the stain on my otherwise impeccable reputation."

Ha.

That comment earns a graceless snort from Eleanor.

"Really," she deadpans, though there's still an appreciative quirk to her lips.

Moving away from the strand of hair, she idly traces a finger down his jawline now.

"Well, you can go and sleep on the couch then. Or outside. There was a woodshed round back that I'm sure'll be just as comfortable as where you are right now. And, hey, perhaps the trees will be nice enough to keep you company and make sure you aren't seen as the philandering sort."

"What if I'm disinclined to move?" Jamie asks, eyes hot.

They have more important things to discuss, not to mention information to gather, but the thought arrives and is gone again in as much time as it takes her finger to reach the stubble on his chin. He's perfectly happy to be here, letting her toy with him however she pleases for the moment, prepared to play back.

Maybe his behavior would be more circumspect if they weren't half naked, but all things considered, he really can't be blamed for his lack of focus.

"I'm grievously injured, after all."

Her finger keeps traveling, down Jamie's neck and along his collar bone, then down again until it reaches his left nipple. Once there, it starts to circle teasingly.

"Oh yeah," she says, suddenly. "Good point. I guess I shouldn't be touching you."

She promptly withdraws the finger and turns her head away from him, hiding the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"I'm not giving up the bed though. So it's disrepute or agonizing pain. Your choice."

Eleanor knows he's kidding; she's just playing along. And if her actions are distracting him from his aches and soreness, they are serving a purpose that's just as important as any 'serious discussion' the two of them ought to be having. Even if said distraction is not necessarily her intent.

Mithros knows it's difficult, but Jamie manages to keep his reaction to a quick indrawn breath and a knowing curve of his lips. His fingers clench the sheet and then let go, lest he look anything more or less than nonchalant, and he lifts up on his good elbow to reach across her for the bottle of pills. If this brings their faces close together, well.

(He smiles and lazily drinks in her eyes and lips and that too brief spot where bare skin touches bare skin.)

Probably just a coincidence.

"I think you'll find I'll rarely choose agonizing pain, consequences be dammed." Slowly, his eyes move to the bottle he's now holding. "These work wonders. I feel better already."

Funny, that.

This time round, rather than preparing herself for a kiss or looking expectant for one, Eleanor turns her head even further away from Jamie. He's not the only one who can play hard to get.

Admittedly, it's not in her character to do so normally, but the rules have changed since he denied her earlier today.

"Nuh uh uhhhh!" she chuckles, snatching the pill bottle out of his grip.

"There's no way the first two are working yet. You can have some more in four to six hours."

"So long?" he teases, before dropping an open-mouthed kiss beside her jaw, under her ear. It's what she's presented him with, turning her head that way, and he's happy enough at the chance.

Settling back, he abruptly switches focus.

"Eleanor, have you had any... head pains since we met?"

Secretly pleased by the way the turnabout is going, Eleanor pops the top off the pill bottle and helps herself to four tablets. They're dry swallowed en mass, without any change in her expression.

Finally, she looks back at him and narrows an eye at his query.

"Like, what kind of head pains?"

"I took some heavy hits from the trees, but my helmet protected me pretty well."

"No-"

Finding it hard to explain, he makes an ineffective gesture.

"Pain that comes from the inside and radiates out, like someone has taken a hammer to the inside of your skull. I've seen flashes of images, and felt things."

"No," Eleanor admits. "Nothing like that."

Furrows of concern appear across her forehead.

"I'm no doctor, but that doesn't sound good, AJ."

"It just started when you got here though, so I'm thinking it's probably not a tumor or anything like that. Could just be a side-effect of the dimensional relocation. You came further than me, after all."

She rolls onto her side, so she's properly facing him, and returns a hand to the area above his temple. A light but tender stroke follows, less tantalizing and more caring than her previous finger-work.

"Let me know if it keeps happening, okay?"

With some difficulty, Jamie pulls at the sheet -- forgetting, for the moment, that he's nearly naked beneath -- and moves closer. She's right there, near enough that he can feel the heat of her skin, and the unguarded, caring look in her eyes does what all the sarcasm and tough attitude and seductive smiles haven't yet managed: he stops playing games and kisses her, not because it's expected or looks fun or it's just what he does.

He really wants to kiss her.

And he doesn't hear the door open, or the faint footsteps on the rough wood floor.

"Supper," says someone he's still inclined to ignore.

Oh yeahhhh. That's what Eleanor is talking about. She might not have seen it coming, but she's been wanting it to happen too, and she's extremely happy to play her part in it. Her fingers curl into Jamie's hair and she lets out a murmur of gratification as the kiss progresses.

So caught up in the moment is Eleanor, that she doesn't notice their host's entrance either, until the woman announces her presence. She grunts in annoyance. She's loathe to break the kiss, regardless of how hungry Jamie might be, so she waves her free hand in an effort to shoo Emily from the room. It's likely a futile gesture given how courteous Jamie is, but she has to try.

Emily dithers a bit as she takes in the scene.

"Oh! I'm sorry you two. I can come back later."

Jamie has been a willing and eager participant in many fantastic, stirring kisses, but this one is easily in the top five. When Eleanor waves at the incredibly ill-timed interruption, Jamie dives his hand into her hair, getting his fingers good and tangled, and tugs her that much closer.

He's hungry, all right; just not for food, or whatever that infernal woman is peddling. He's close to growling his acceptance that she get out, at top speed if she doesn't want to see more than she should; then his traitorous brain raises a stray but pertinent thought.

Food he can do without, but answers to their questions are vital.

Biting his own lip, he lifts his head and fixes a glazed stare on Emily. Words are temporarily beyond him, so he gives his head a swift shake. No. Stay. It's followed by a small smile, as charming as if she'd caught him daydreaming, not wrapped up in Eleanor.

And now that he's bothered to look, the food on the tray looks rather good.

Damn right it's a top five kiss! Eleanor's had plenty of practice herself. It's only a shame that it has to end before she can properly assert her experience into it.

Above flushed cheeks, her forehead buckles unhappily when Jamie withdraws. She treats his gaze to a brief narrow-eyed glare, then switches her focus onto the tray-bearing woman. To say that Eleanor's a bit ruffled would be a gross understatement.

Emily blinks owlishly at the couple, uncertain of which instruction to follow. The girl looks ready to kill, whereas the boy looks kind and welcoming.

"Erm... it's good to see you're both feeling better," she says, trying to cover her embarrassed floundering with perkiness. "I can just leave the food and go if you like?"

The delicious aromas of home-cooked corn chowder, pork chops, mashed potatoes and more reach Eleanor and Jamie, complimenting the appetizing look of the spread. Eleanor had snacked while Jamie was being tended to, but she's not going to say no to a decent meal.

"That works," she replies, in a sharper tone than Emily deserves.

"Emily," the woman offers Jamie, as she decides it's safe to come further into the room. The tray is carefully set on a small bedside table, and she backs away, wiping both hands on her simple apron. "You were unconscious when we made introductions."

Jamie has recovered enough to laugh. "So I was. Pleased to meet you, Emily. And thank you for your kind hospitality."

He straightens, reluctantly letting go of Eleanor, and only looks down long enough to make sure everything important is properly covered. "But as grateful as I am, I have to ask: How did you manage it?"

Wide, innocent eyes blink at him. "The hospitality?"

Patiently, Jamie shakes his head again. "Our rescue."

She smiles. "We've been here a very long time. Other people stumble upon us now and then. We do what we can. Now, eat up, and I'm certain my brother will want to talk with you."

The smile is unnervingly bright.

"Ethan's your brother?" Eleanor asks, her nose wrinkled in mild confusion.

She's calming down now. The promise of good food can work wonders on frustration. She's already starting to ready herself for the soup, by propping her pillows up more vertically and shifting into a more uprightly seated position.

"Huh. I thought you were husband and wife. Or a couple at least."

Emily titters. "Oh no, dear. Ethan's my big brother. Sorry we didn't make that clear."

"Well, there ya go," Eleanor follows up, a little boggled that she'd made such a glaringly bad analysis of their relationship. "I'm guessing Dan isn't your son either then."

"Nope." More gentle laughter from Emily. "He's our young bubba."

Eleanor shakes her head helplessly. "Wow. That's wild."