A couple promised closed (or semi-closed) logs

[warriorscribe]

Characters: Enoch and Lucifel, and anyone who would visit his room too. Just let me know! Also, Enoch and Lancer.
Setting: Dorm 3-18 backdated to November 1st, Floor 62 backdated to December 1st
Format: I'll match!
Summary: Enoch has had something very unpleasant happen to him as a punishment for too many failed riddles. That is an understatement. Also, he and Lancer agreed to a sparring match.
Warnings: Talk of being flayed may happen if you press for information. (If this is one of your listed squicks I'll actively avoid it coming up), maybe blood or broken limbs in the sparring match? There is a tangent involving sexual discussion.


Dorm 3-18, November 1st


He woke with a scream.

Or tried to. In his sleep paralysis it was only a choked sound as he stared at the ceiling wide-eyed. Unable to move or speak, all he had was the nightmare he'd just lived, punctuated by Eleven's shrill screaming. All he had was that he was not in pain. Parts of him were still numb from revival, but he was not in pain.

An involuntary, low, distressed moan was what told him he could move again. Shaking and pale, he pushed himself up. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his gaze was unfocused, glazed-over. He raised a hand, still numb and tingling, and pressed it to his own chest. With something between a laugh and a sob, he curled up on himself, a tight human ball on the bed.

Unlike the time that had given him such an adverse reaction, there was nothing driving him to keep going. Only the horror of what had happened.


Floor 62, December 1st

The beach had always been a calming place for him. That is, until his return to Meridian. As he waited for Lancer, he watched the waves, arms folded as his thoughts wandered. Mostly, they wandered to Armaros, and their time in Meridian. Time spent there, he on a large dune watching as Armaros swam.

And now, he was here. Torn apart. In so much pain he could only blame him.

A nautilus shell washed up against his foot. He bent down to pick it up, idly playing with it as he waited for Lancer, stewing in his own thoughts.

Comments

[brbtalkingtogod]

"... Right..." For a moment he hadn't been sure why he had taken it off in the first place and if it had to do with Enoch and him ending up in a cuddle pile.

"... Oh my... I think I remember. I started talking nonsense at some point."

[warriorscribe]

"Nonsense? I don't remember you talking nonsense."

Well, some of it may have been nonsense at the time, to him, but he wasn't really sure he'd ever been totally lost...

[brbtalkingtogod]

He wasn't sure if he should laugh at this or consider to hide in the shadows for a long time.

"It sure feels that way now..."

[warriorscribe]

"It's all right. I'm sure it wasn't important..."

What is important is getting up - they do need to, since a bottle and a half of wine a person is a lot...

[brbtalkingtogod]

"Yeah... It probably wasn't."

And they really should get up soon. Also get his shirt back. Definitely get his shirt back soon.

[warriorscribe]

Enoch was taking the initiative. However, keeping his eyes mostly shut against the light and his pounding headache disorienting him, he stumbled over Lucifel as he attempted to get out of bed and wound up falling in a heap on the floor. He pushed himself up to his knees with a groan. He was all right; he'd survived worse falls, of course. Lucifel had seen that for himself.

[brbtalkingtogod]

Stumbling over him was a new kind of fall though. Lucifel growled as he sat up and looked at Enoch. "Need some help?"

[warriorscribe]

There's a pause as Enoch gets to his feet, a sharp hiss that might be of pain but is actually just severe discomfort. How he managed to hold in his bladder and avoid embarrassing himself even further was a mystery (and perhaps the strangest application of his willpower yet).

"...No problem. Everything's fine."

But immediately after that, he's out of the room as fast as he can go on a hangover.