holyknights | ♞ III. action.

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♞ III. action.

[After finally finding an opportunity to escape from his house, Elliot makes his way through the rain to the barracks. His intent is to let some of his frustration out, but it isn't going as well as he'd like. What should be flawless techniques are interrupted when his hand freezes up, forcing him to drop his precious black blade. Multiple times.

It would take more than a stupid handicap to make Elliot Nightray give up, though. It didn't matter how frustrating it was.

Sooner or later, he'll head back, but he's not in any hurry to do so. It's been almost a week since he returned and his condition hasn't improved much at all. He hates this place. He hates it with a passion.]

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I told you to change your clothes!

In front of you? Well, I suppose if you insist...

[OH. MY. GOD.]

Just— Shut up and do what you're told! And be careful this time!

[He is out of that room so fast, slamming the door behind him. He has to go and change his own clothes, too, anyway.]

[The smile on his face lingers for a moment after the door slams before fading into a frown. His thoughts churn as he moves towards his cupboard, mechanically pulling out a dry pair of clothing and being careful not to drip on them. Losing control of his hands-- was that really normal for a visit to the Malnosso? Plus those visions and those aches that Elliot had complained about earlier- and here he pauses to pull the sleeve up his right arm- were those normal as well?

Disturbing?

He straightens his collar (without a mirror, he's never had a mirror, never needed one) and picks up the ribbon, only to pause. Different colours...

He can't see his reflection even on the oft-polished decorative bead and he's not sure he'd even want to study his eyes closer after he'd rejected looking at the world so many years ago. After all, he's gotten so used to it-- hiding away. But in a place such a Luceti, perhaps those strange lights, those strange things that he's always seen...perhaps they didn't exist any more. Maybe...

...no. He'd had to return some day, wouldn't he? It would be stupid to think that this place could be his own special little hiding hole. It's a grim-faced grimace that he wears as he ties the ribbon (a little lopsidedly, but it's difficult to do these things without a mirror) and towels off the last of the water in his hair.

At least, this time, he's a little more careful as he exits his room. Rearranging the books again would be quite-- troublesome. Where are you, Elliot?]

[In his room, working on changing his clothes, of course. Thanks to the fact that he probably won't need to leave the house again, it's a simple task—he doesn't need to worry about properly tying a stupid ribbon or making sure there aren't any wrinkles in his shirt. The buttons could be a bit troublesome, though.

This could easily turn into the most irritating part of changing if he doesn't manage to finish before those kidnapping effects come into play again. He tries to button his shirt up quickly—it would be especially embarrassing if he started having trouble when Leo happened to walk in.]

[Leo glances around the bathroom, and then the living room but they're quite...empty. Strange, and here he'd thought that he'd taken his own sweet time. Right, fine, heading to Elliot's room now, and if you don't come out of that room, Elliot, he's going to knock in 3, 2, 1...]

[...nope. Not coming out. He's still busy buttoning up his shirt (and becoming more annoyed when he remembers that he'll need to button up a vest, too), so he doesn't even respond to him. He's sure it's Leo anyway, so it isn't necessary for him to speak up.]

[Well, that's even stranger (with a sense of rather uncomfortable deja vu). Is he even inside? If Elliot's door isn't locked, he'll be poking his head in.]

[Elliot will be slipping on that vest when Leo enters. The damp clothes from earlier are sitting on the edge of his bed.

Hearing the door open, he finally decides to speak up.]

I'm almost finished.

[...kind of.]

[The door stops-- on the bright side, at least Leo knows how to give Elliot his privacy. Unless he feels there's a need to intrude.]

You're taking a while.

[Busy with the buttons on his vest now, he doesn't turn around to acknowledge him.]

Didn't I tell you to be patient?

No, you didn't. Do you need help?

What do you think?

[Who needs help with something like this? Come on.]

[Wow, is that supposed to be a trick question? He pushes the door open (and shuts it behind him, Elliot is shy) before going to his side with a sigh.]

You can't even dress yourself.

I'm fine.

[...he says as he gets stuck on a button and has to apply more force than he'd usually need to get this done.]

Of course you are.

[And he reaches over and shoves Elliot's hands away. Man, you're useless.] Do I need to teach you how to manage your buttons?

[He sighs in frustration, but he doesn't argue very much.]

Keep your mouth shut.

That'd be rather boring, wouldn't it? [And besides, he's doing a decent job at those buttons. Much faster too.]

[Of course it would, but that isn't really the point, is it? This just further emphasized the fact that Elliot couldn't do anything like this.

And he hated it.]

...thank you.

[Leo makes no indication that he's heard him as he continues working his way up. It's a quick job that he makes of it, and he straightens Elliot's collar as well once he's done.]

There.

[Elliot stretches his arms a little once Leo is finished with his vest. It's a little less embarrassing now that that's actually done with.]

If these problems don't go away soon, I'll make them go away.

[He had gotten better at ignoring the pain, and those visions. He could ignore whatever was wrong with his hands, too.]

[He steps back so Elliot can stretch-- his problems, as far as he has always thought, is secondary to Elliot's, and he's more worried about him than about his...lack of colour or whatever that was supposed to mean.]

How...?

I'll find a way.

[So he didn't know how, but that wasn't going to stop him. It didn't matter what they'd done to him, but they couldn't control him.]

They say that the effects should fade. [He has to pick up Elliot's wet clothes now-- Elliot, your clothes are dripping, good grief. He'll have to let them dry a little.] It won't last for long.

It's been a week.

[It's a simple response, but it should say enough.]

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