[ He dredges up whatever sense of defiance is left in him -- after all, there was a strong chance he wouldn't get another chance to be an ass, wasn't there? ]
Ah, goodie, am I being treated to a magic lesson?
Yes, Professor West, I am familiar. But please, tell me more.
Well, I was going to treat you to a little lesson on how my fried here is going to take apart your personality and put it back together in a manner of my choosing, but if you're going to be like that, I'll just let him get to work.
I'm going to be so glad when you won't talk back anymore.
[ the Illusionist clears his throat ] Mr. West, if you please?
Of course. Let's see if you feel any differently when you wake up.
[ Once more he casts that quick, brutal spell to knock Dorian unconscious to allow his compatriot to do his work. When the mage wakes, he'll find himself in the house proper, in a spare bedroom. His broken wrist has been splinted, and it's safe to assume they got some painkillers into him at some point.
Whether or not the spellwork took is an entirely different matter, but Warren seems confident enough to risk it. ]
[ His head feels like it's been filled with cotton when he wake, and even with the painkillers, his body still aches -- though at least it's merely a dull, persistent throb rather than the sharp pains of earlier.
Earlier being-- fuzzy, come to think of it. Dorian can't remember how he found himself here, can barely remember what happened to his wrist that it needed splinting. There was probably an excellent reason for it, he assumes. Probably some stupid accident or other.
When Warren arrives at last, he'll find Dorian sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, and tension leaves Dorian's frame when he spots him in the doorway -- it's as though he was relieved. His gaze softens, and the hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
Normally, he would say some sort of greeting, but something compels him to wait. Don't speak unless spoken to, that voice says. It doesn't occur to him that he should rebel against that voice. ]
[ Well, this seems encouraging, though he wouldn't put it past Dorian to put on an act. Needless to say his personal wards are up when he steps into the room ]
A car slid in front of the house. [ he says it with a sad shake of his head ] You know how these roads can get. You're lucky you came away with just a broken wrist and a cracked rib.
[ He frowns, trying to remember, and something about the story rings false. ]
Are you--
[ sure?, is how he wanted to end that question, but something shrieks in his mind, scatters his thoughts, and he winces as his hand goes to his temple.
His thoughts regather slowly, like spooked animals after the snap of a twig. A car slid in front of the house. He remembers the sensation of falling, an immense pressure slamming against him over and over. The snap of his rib, of his wrist, pain in his head. ]
... Yes. [ And the moment he agrees, it's as though a fog partially lifts. ] Yes, I remember.
[ Warren watches Dorian’s face as he works through it, as he struggles against the alterations to his mind. He doubts Dorian would know to include that sort of thing in his act, if he was acting.
The wizard takes a seat on the edge of the bed and places his hand over Dorian’s. ]
[ For half of a second, his skin crawls at the contact, and he flinches away--
But something in his head shrieks again, shrill and sudden like the screech of an alarm, and he screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.
When the moment passes, he lets out a shaking breath, and he drops his hand to seek out Warren's. He looks up at him with a tired, apologetic smile, a surge of affection blooming in his chest and turning the expression fond. ]
I'm sorry. My head-- the accident, I think.
[ He sags against the headboard, struck by how tired he is, how sore and weak. ]
Have I been sleeping long? I feel rather as though I've been hollowed out.
[ Ah, there it is. That fond look is what he was waiting for. Even if nothing else about this pans out, he can take satisfaction in knowing that, even for a moment, this worked. It brings a smile to his face, something wicked at the edges of the expression. ]
[ The fact that Dorian doesn’t even bat an eye at the look on Warren’s face is also encouraging. He can only play saccharine for so long. It’s so much easier to be himself. ]
Can’t be helped. The important thing is getting you well again.
“Destroyer” is the antithesis of “healer” you realize. Don’t expect anything too miraculous.
[ Still, at the very least he can try to get Dorian on the mend again- it’s vital that he does. He steps out of the room for a moment and comes back with a bowl of soup and some bread- not too dissimilar from the meal he left in Dorian’s cell, though this time it’s actually warm. ]
[ In those spare moments while Warren is gone, Dorian has that skin-crawling sensation again, that nagging feeling that something is amiss. His ears ring, his mouth feels dry, and that shrill alarm sounds in his head again. This time, he brings both hands to clutch at his head, drawing up his knees and gritting his teeth to will the noise away.
He feels-- wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.
What's happening?
The noise subsides as quickly as it came, leaves him feeling drained though he's forgotten why. When Warren steps back in, Dorian can't help the small, subdued smile of relief that brightens his face. ]
Careful, my dear -- you're being endearingly domestic.
[ No comment on his sparkling wit (no jokes? my dear man, you might as well ask a bird not to fly). No quip about his ability to multi-task (may i not do both?). He simply sets into his meal. ]
[ He nods in response, and once he's finished, he sets everything aside and settles back into the bed. He hesitates, but when his reluctance passes, he asks, ]
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pullmeoutalive2014-06-27 11:45 pm
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[ And to Dorian, he says, ] Are you familiar with the Illusion school of wizardry?
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Ah, goodie, am I being treated to a magic lesson?
Yes, Professor West, I am familiar. But please, tell me more.
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I took the wind out of your sails, didn't I? Don't be bitter, my dear man. It doesn't become you.
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[ the Illusionist clears his throat ] Mr. West, if you please?
Of course. Let's see if you feel any differently when you wake up.
[ Once more he casts that quick, brutal spell to knock Dorian unconscious to allow his compatriot to do his work. When the mage wakes, he'll find himself in the house proper, in a spare bedroom. His broken wrist has been splinted, and it's safe to assume they got some painkillers into him at some point.
Whether or not the spellwork took is an entirely different matter, but Warren seems confident enough to risk it. ]
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Earlier being-- fuzzy, come to think of it. Dorian can't remember how he found himself here, can barely remember what happened to his wrist that it needed splinting. There was probably an excellent reason for it, he assumes. Probably some stupid accident or other.
When Warren arrives at last, he'll find Dorian sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, and tension leaves Dorian's frame when he spots him in the doorway -- it's as though he was relieved. His gaze softens, and the hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
Normally, he would say some sort of greeting, but something compels him to wait. Don't speak unless spoken to, that voice says. It doesn't occur to him that he should rebel against that voice. ]
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How are you feeling?
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[ The corner of his mouth twitches up, and he rubs at his eyes with his good hand. ]
May I ask what happened?
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You had me worried.
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[ He frowns, trying to remember, and something about the story rings false. ]
Are you--
[ sure?, is how he wanted to end that question, but something shrieks in his mind, scatters his thoughts, and he winces as his hand goes to his temple.
His thoughts regather slowly, like spooked animals after the snap of a twig. A car slid in front of the house. He remembers the sensation of falling, an immense pressure slamming against him over and over. The snap of his rib, of his wrist, pain in his head. ]
... Yes. [ And the moment he agrees, it's as though a fog partially lifts. ] Yes, I remember.
[ His hand drops to his lap. ]
I'm sorry to have worried you.
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The wizard takes a seat on the edge of the bed and places his hand over Dorian’s. ]
I’m just glad you’re all right.
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But something in his head shrieks again, shrill and sudden like the screech of an alarm, and he screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.
When the moment passes, he lets out a shaking breath, and he drops his hand to seek out Warren's. He looks up at him with a tired, apologetic smile, a surge of affection blooming in his chest and turning the expression fond. ]
I'm sorry. My head-- the accident, I think.
[ He sags against the headboard, struck by how tired he is, how sore and weak. ]
Have I been sleeping long? I feel rather as though I've been hollowed out.
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It’s been a couple of days. You must be starving.
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Days? [ That rings true enough, and he frowns. ] No wonder you were worried. I'm sorry to have caused such trouble.
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Can’t be helped. The important thing is getting you well again.
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Playing nurse, are we? I'll have to enjoy this while it lasts.
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[ Still, at the very least he can try to get Dorian on the mend again- it’s vital that he does. He steps out of the room for a moment and comes back with a bowl of soup and some bread- not too dissimilar from the meal he left in Dorian’s cell, though this time it’s actually warm. ]
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He feels-- wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.
What's happening?
The noise subsides as quickly as it came, leaves him feeling drained though he's forgotten why. When Warren steps back in, Dorian can't help the small, subdued smile of relief that brightens his face. ]
Careful, my dear -- you're being endearingly domestic.
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[ Might as well start small, just to see how well he takes direction. ]
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[ No comment on his sparkling wit (no jokes? my dear man, you might as well ask a bird not to fly). No quip about his ability to multi-task (may i not do both?). He simply sets into his meal. ]
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Will you be here when I wake?
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You spoil me.
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[ There's something dark lurking under those words. This has already turned out better than expected. ]
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