genessia | Sidequest Sunday! [Video]

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Sidequest Sunday! [Video]

[Namur's voice is hoarse and he breathes harder than usual as he speaks, head propped sideways on a pillow so he can face the camera.]

Hey-

[He is interrupted by a coughing fit, followed by a few colorful words muttered weakly under his breath.]

A'ight let's try that 'gain.

Hey guys, I'm feelin' down. Thought a some shit that'll lift my sp- AHCHOO!

[He cringes. That one hurt.]

Oh, Lord a the Sea. If yer willin' t' go find some shit an' bring it back t' me, sing out an' I'll give y' a reward.

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[Namur's concern makes Rowan chuckle again, and she shakes her head in response.]

You won't get me sick, don't worry-- I can keep you warm for as long as you need. Or longer, if you'd like.

[She gives her screen a little grin.]

Just give me a little while to stop and get some soup, and I'll be right over.

[And, true to her word, less than an hour later there's a knock at Namur's door; true, he probably wouldn't mind if she just let herself in, but this is his home-- not hers. She arrives with enough takeout soup to feed at least four or five people, as well as a heavy blanket draped over one arm. Following the knock at the door, she calls out.]

Namur? It's me-- I come bearing gifts.

[Rip must have gone out, because Namur drags himself out of bed, feeling sluggish and ready to collapse, even though he's just woke up. He has enough sensory receptors left unclogged to taste the smell of soup in the air, and his stomach growls, even if he wrinkles his nose a bit at anything cooked, out of principle. He looks like shit when he opens the door, but he smiles brightly.]

Door's always unlocked, y' know that, right?

[But she has her hands full so maybe that's what's going on. He reaches for a couple of her bags as he bends down to bunt his forehead against hers.]

So whatcha got in here anyway?

Soup, as promised. From what I've read, chicken soup is best for sick humans, but I thought you'd prefer something else-- So it's a fish stew, with some fresh bread for carbohydrates. Your body needs those just as much as the protein.

[Rowan may not be that experienced with these sorts of things, but at least she's done her research. She runs her cheekbone affectionately along Namur's jaw before relinquishing the bags to him, letting out a soft little hum at the show of affection.]

And now that I'm here, you ought to get back to bed. I can take care of anything else that needs to be done...

[Even sick, he's apparently able to smile like a complete dope. She's right to assume he'd much rather eat a fish stew than a chicken soup any day. If he has to have something cooked, at least let it be fish. And he loves physical affection, even in small doses. This was definitely worth waking up for, even if she's sending him right back to bed.]

What, y' brought all this food but y' ain't gonna lemme eat it? Laaaaame.

[He sets the bags on the table and turns away quickly to cough. Luckily it's just a single and he turns back right away.]

Think there's bowls over the counter there. Ain't a lotta cookin' happenin' 'round here so I'unno what kinda state they's in.

You can eat in bed, crybaby.

[The words are at least delivered with a fond smile, accompanied by an affectionate pat at Namur's backside before Rowan turns to survey the kitchen. It's not as bad as some warzones she's seen, but... Well, he's been sick.]

I'll clean up and bring it up to you once I can get everything ready, okay?

[Cooking might not be her strong suit, but cleaning? That, at least, is one way she can do her part to show that she cares.]

Oh.

[If only his tongue were long enough that he could stick it out.]

Shit, I don't usually eat this kinda stuff so I didn't know.

[But he won't argue, because truth be told, that sounds like a damn fine idea. So he nods, and rubs his chin on the top of her head, and obediently heads back into the bedroom to wrap himself up in the hammock.]

[Rowan makes her way back there only a few minutes later, having straightened up enough to satisfy her own urges and rinsed off enough dishes to bring Namur his lunch. She follows his scent back to the bedroom, knocking lightly at the door before stepping inside with the soup offered up like some sort of peace treaty.]

Still awake in here? I come bearing stew and body heat...

[She peeks into the room with an almost shy smile, gesturing with the dishes in her hands.]

I can even change into my fur, if you'd rather...

[He was kind of almost asleep again, in that sort of immobile but vaguely aware state. The room is pretty basic, though it features an oversized hammock rather than a bed and the walls are covered with taped up drawings- most of it graffiti art of names, joined by occasional portraits or pinups. There are thick blackout curtains over the window.

Namur sits up and yawns, rubbing his head.]

Think we'd need t' go in the other room if yer gonna transform. Need space. 'S fine if y' wanna come sit in here first. Eat with me. Then go get hairy.

[That much talking sets off a hacking fit but he's okay, really. There's a long dresser to the side of the hammock where they can set their bowls within easy reach, and Namur pulls back one of the blankets to make room for her.]

Ssh, it's okay-- I'm just as warm small as I am when I'm big.

[She hurries to Namur's side while she speaks, frowning with concern after that wave of coughing. One bowl is passed over to him, freeing up a hand so she can run it affectionately over Namur's cheek and brush along his jaw with her thumb. It's not as though a touch that minor is likely to do anything, of course, but she's not the type to just stand by while someone she cares about is suffering-- At least this way, he'll know she's there with him.]

You sound like shit. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have some actual medicine? I'm sure I could find some sedatives or something, to help you rest...

[Namur leans into her touch, loving it. She can touch him all day if she wants, he'll thrive on it.]

Give y' Marco's number, y' can' pester him t' get his ass over here while I'm sleepin'. He's my brother, an' the crew's doctor 'fore he was our captain. If he says t' gimme some shit I won't fight it.

[For once.]

[Namur holds the bowl in one hand and helps Rowan get settled with the other, leaving his hand splayed out over her thigh, which he rubs gently with the side of his thumb every once in awhile. Then he takes a sniff of the fish stew, savoring its electrochemical taste, doing his best to appreciate this concoction of dead things that will give him strength. He can't even tell how many individual fish were sacrificed to make the stew, but however many it was, he's grateful to them, and dumps it rather gracelessly behind his teeth, swallowing slowly.]

Hmm. Warm. 'S good. Thanks.

[Rowan retrieves the blanket she'd brought from home and tosses it over Namur before joining him in the hammock-- A precarious endeavor at best, though she tries to keep the jostling and unsteadiness to a minimum.

Once she's settled nuzzled up against him, one leg stretched over his hips to try and share as much body heat as possible, she watches cautiously while he drinks the stew down. Here's hoping that storebought is acceptable... And it seems to be, judging by his commentary. She answers him with a soft hum, running one hand affectionately over his broad chest-- ostensibly still just to share her warmth, but also out of curiosity; is the congestion bad enough to hear, to feel? How concerned does she really need to be? Namur's tough, of course, but...]

You just drink that, and then I'll get in touch with Marco while you rest. I imagine he'll know what to do better than I will.

[Honestly, it's just a run of the mill, knock you on your ass for a day or two then make you cough for a week seasonal cold. Namur sets the bowl aside once he's drained it and moves to settle down, but the change in orientation sets off a coughing and sneezing fit, and he gives it up for the moment.]

Ugh. Oughta jus' pile up a buncha shit an' lay 'gainst the wall at this rate.

[He curls himself in against her, trying to not disturb her ability to eat as well, but craving her warmth and stability.]

So's invincibility t' gettin' sick part a yer werewolf ability? Or y' jus' whaleshittin' me that y' ain't gonna catch this yerself?

[It would take somebody much bigger and more problematic than Namur to impede Rowan's eating for long if she was really determined, but for now she's more concerned about him than about her food; having next to no experience with matters like these, she's treating this like a sort of high-stakes learning experience.]

I would never, ah-- whaleshit you. [She smirks at the term, shaking her head.] I'm sure I can get sick, but it would take a lot-- And if I do, my body's designed to burn through it quickly. My metabolism runs much faster than a human's does; that's why I heal so quickly, and why my body feels hot to most people.

[She shrugs one shoulder, careful not to disturb him with the motion.]

So there's no need to worry about me, I promise.

[He coughs briefly, clearing his throat, then slips his arm around her waist.]

Hell yeah, even the blind can tell y' got the hottest shit, sheheheheh!

[Aw damn, he laughed. That means he coughs again. But he gets it under control really quick, and goes back to slowly passing out with his head propped on her shoulder.]

They make y' that way jus' so y' wouldn't get sick or's it a side effect a bein' a wolf?

[Rolling her eyes at his initial commentary, Rowan can't help but chuckle. Really? Even with a fever, he's still flirting?

Smiling, she tucks her head to nuzzle lightly at his when he leans against her again.]

I never asked. Who cares, as long as it means I can do this?

[Namur smiles a bit, even though his face is still curled into her shoulder, and the tip of his ear turns a bit pink in spite of his blue skin. He leans his head up again like he might say something, but as soon as he inhales he ends up curling against her again, aiming his mouth towards her back, as a series of sneezes rocket through his body and leave him gasping for air. This time he does let himself fall backwards, his hands on his abdomen.]

Ugh. Aw Sweetheart, get yer share a that stew down y' quick, cuz I'm feelin'...

[His speech is slow, and he goes quiet for a few moments, then seems to rouse for a few moments more.]

Feelin' like I ain't gonna be 'wake much longer. But we gotta go in the...

[Shit, he can't think of the word. So he gestures vaguely with his arm towards the bigger living room.]

... over there. Fur and warm and sleep, catch me? Think yer great the way y' is, too, an' who gives a shit what them shitheads what made y' wants. Do what makes y' happy 'n shit...

[He's beginning to nod off again, his head listing off to one side of the hammock, shivering slightly.]

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Sidequest Sunday! [Video]

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