Enoch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
warriorscribe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-12-11 09:49 pm
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-11 09:49 pm
The weather's annoying, isn't it?
Characters: Enoch and anyone!
Setting: Around the tower, forward-dated to the 12th.
Format: Either is fine!
Summary: Enoch made several cloaks last week and is handing them out....even if he's sick.
Warnings: None yet!
He'd been pressing his luck, going around and trying to give comfort or company to the sick. Though, one couldn't blame him, given that the most illness he's had in a century is a bit of an upset stomach. He's built up quite a resistance.
He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be truly sick, to have a headache behind his eyes and for his limbs to feel weighted. But he wasn't letting it stop him. He was going to give out these cloaks he made before it got even worse. So he wandered the tower, handing out a cloak to anyone who seemed as if they could need one, or anyone who asked.
There were ten of them in his arms, varying colors. All of them were hooded, and about medium-length. They would be large on a child and a little short on someone taller like him, but they would do either way. So even with the occasional cough and sniffle, or the stop to sneeze (not into the cloaks, thankfully) every now and then, perhaps it was worth the risk of being sick for a chance to get a little warmer.
Setting: Around the tower, forward-dated to the 12th.
Format: Either is fine!
Summary: Enoch made several cloaks last week and is handing them out....even if he's sick.
Warnings: None yet!
He'd been pressing his luck, going around and trying to give comfort or company to the sick. Though, one couldn't blame him, given that the most illness he's had in a century is a bit of an upset stomach. He's built up quite a resistance.
He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be truly sick, to have a headache behind his eyes and for his limbs to feel weighted. But he wasn't letting it stop him. He was going to give out these cloaks he made before it got even worse. So he wandered the tower, handing out a cloak to anyone who seemed as if they could need one, or anyone who asked.
There were ten of them in his arms, varying colors. All of them were hooded, and about medium-length. They would be large on a child and a little short on someone taller like him, but they would do either way. So even with the occasional cough and sniffle, or the stop to sneeze (not into the cloaks, thankfully) every now and then, perhaps it was worth the risk of being sick for a chance to get a little warmer.
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He did look ill. Paler, with tired eyes and posture not quite so straight. He watched Catarina warily, though, all the same.
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Well, if it came to a fight, then she had a bigger upper hand than usual outside not being human by sheer fact she wasn't ill.
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As far as he was concerned, the ability to help one another was what held human societies together. Demons could complain all they wanted, but in the end, humans were God's creations and it was all too apparent here.
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Her voice was calm, almost amused.
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Actually, he's about as old as Catarina, because his search lasted sixty five years longer than he thinks it has. He stopped counting, and relied on Lucifel's (wrong) count, you see.
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But not as much as it would be if you were human, he doesn't add. He's trying to at least maintain some civility.
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And it was fun and familiar and nice and- Catarina started to back away, a blush rising on her face.
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"Are...are you all right?"
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Those of the light... why did they like her?!