middaeg | July Quests and Catch-All [OPEN]

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July Quests and Catch-All [OPEN]

Who: Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) and you!
When: Throughout July
Where: Through the city
What: Quests and other things!
Warnings: Some threads are NSFW!

[ 1. Sew and Tell ]

[ While Berserker can't help with the magical parts of upgrading the shop, he is strong. He's doing any grunt labor asked of him, lifting things, moving heavy objects, and holding people up to reach things. You need something carried? He's your ~~dragon~~ man.

He finishes a task to take a small break to stretch. He looks over to a coworker (or customer, he doesn't care to know the difference) and tilts his head slightly. ]

Is there something you need me for?

[ 2. Out of the City ]

[ There's a lull in the activity of the day and Berserker takes a moment to rest. He slumps down against a tree, his spear Gae Bolg resting against his shoulder. He's only doing this because he knows he's good at it -- fighting and killing is boring and routine. A sound catches his attention and he grabs his spear without getting up. ]

Do I need to stand up or did you just trip?

[ He's a jerk, sorry. ]

[ 3. Wildcard ]

[ Got an idea? Did we plot something already? Drop me a starter or PM me here or on discord at glitzkrieg#0673! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Berserker's too focused on the fire to pay attention to Waver for the moment. It isn't until he hears his name that he turns in momentary confusion. Oh. Oops. He stands up again as he takes the towel from around his shoulders, giving the smaller man another eyeful. It's not like he's trying to embarrass him, it's just a side effect of having no qualms about nudity. After what probably feels like an eternity, he wraps the towel around his waist.

"Better?" he asks as he approaches Waver.

Before he can answer, Berserker kneels down in front of him. It's his attempt to get this back on track -- be happy he didn't seize on your embarrassment, Waver.

Another eyeful, indeed. Waver's definitely seen a lot more than he'd bargained for with the full frontal view this time. At least while he'd been walking away, it was just his back and butt...

Now, Waver has to contend with the sudden, unwarranted revelation that whatever changes Berserker's body is going through to become more like the native Monsters in this world, they've spread down to the most... intimate... parts of him. Waver's just going to assume he didn't originally arrive here with that between his legs.

Also, he was definitely staring until Berserker covered up, whoops. Waver forces his attention away just as the towel finally wraps around the other man's hips, where it should have been the whole time to preserve whatever's left of Waver's innocence. Too late now.

"Y-yeah, er..."

Wait, what is he doing now? Why is he getting closer?!

Waver steps back, forgetting the chair is still right behind him, and knocks the backs of his knees on the front of it, sitting down hard with a startled grunt. Now that he's got a tail to deal with, that's not nearly so comfortable when it gets bent or sat on. He winces, reaching back to adjust the annoying appendage, and looking up again to find Berserker's face now way too close. Kneeling on the floor, he's just about the same height as Waver in his chair. A very confused, red-faced Waver still vaguely concerned about his junk...

"I-- Ah... Right." Waver reaches over to snatch up one of the small glass jars. Working at the apothecary has its perks.

"I have some healing and pain relieving poultices... here..."

Waver's lingering stare doesn't go unnoticed. No one's more intimately aware of the changes his body has gone through than himself. It doesn't bother him, though -- usually people are trying to avert their gaze when they see him, but a few stare. It's normal.

Also normal is Waver's reaction as Berserker draws nearer. Fear is a common reaction. He's large, intimidating, and gives off an air of a killer. He's led a bloodstained life and it's imbued in his very aura. He doesn't react to the other man's fear and anxiety, keeping a neutral expression. Maybe he'd stop scaring Waver someday, even on accident.

"I can handle pain...You don't have to waste these things on me."

Pain is a fact of life for him. The way he fought as a Servant was unbridled and wild: his Noble Phantasm was thrown with enough force to dislocate his shoulder, tear muscle, and break bone. It's only because of his Rune Magic the damage was repaired. The pain remained, though.

"Save them for someone who needs it."

Waver doesn't even bother to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Berserker probably doesn't realize how pointlessly edgy he sounds right now, but it's just stupid.

"I work at the apothecary. I can make more. It's not like there's some limited supply that needs saving or rationing out to someone who 'really' needs it. Don't be an idiot."

At least with Berserker kneeling, he's easier to reach. Waver unscrews the lid on the jar, balancing it on one knee, and scoops out some of the substance inside onto his fingertips.

"Hold still."

Look, he's got issues, okay? Accepting help without fussing is an impossibility. Berserker narrows his eyes, but doesn't react beyond that. He did have half a mind to stand up to make this harder on Waver -- he's not in the mood to be that petty.

"Shut up. I'm used to caring for my own wounds, that's all."

'Caring' meant leaving them alone to heal over on their own. He's so stubborn that it's detrimental to his well-being. It's so hard to care about yourself when you're self-destructive to a fault in battle, expecting and anticipating each one to be your last.

He does as he's told, though, and sits still. It's weird to let Waver get this close to him, much less touch him. Allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of him requires trust. There's only trust given here because he has nothing to fear from the other man. If he were any more of a threat, he wouldn't allow this.

"Don't tell me to shut up. You shut up," Waver snaps back. It's like an automatic reaction though, all bark and no bite.

Despite his belligerent tone, his fingers are gentle, and he's careful with his claws. The poultice feels cool and tingling on Berserker's skin and scales as Waver carefully rubs it into his bruises, smelling of fresh mint and sharply scented herbs. His hands, though, are warm-- a bit warmer than a human's at this point. And when he bends forward to take a better look at Berserker's ear, Waver braces himself with the flat of his palm on one broad shoulder, leaning in close.

It's the gentle touch that makes him want to shy away. The pain he can handle, but he doesn't know what to do with softness. Every touch laid upon him should be painful and nothing else. Berserker flinches at the contact. It feels good, especially with how warm Waver's hands are, though from his reaction it looks like it hurts.

He turns his head to let him get a better look at his ear. It's scabbed over, but it's obviously a bite of some kind.

"Diarmuid did something for it, enough to keep it from getting worse. I've left it alone other than that."

Words to fill space. Waver didn't need to know that -- it didn't affect anything.

"Mmh." Waver hums in acknowledgement, leaning back again and letting go to sort through the little assortment of items from the apothecary again. It doesn't need an urgent healing spell or anything, thankfully, but there's a potion concentrate for easing pain, and he's got some herb poultices for enhancing natural healing.

Waver offers Berserker another jar.

"This'll make it heal faster." He doesn't offer the pain relieving potion, considering Berserker's reaction a minute ago. There's no point, and it's not like his injuries look that bad. Waver has every intention of using it for himself when the moons wax again.

"Diarmuid's my responsibility too, you know. I don't care what you do, but if you're getting in fights and he has to deal with it, that affects me too. So don't be stupid."

There's almost a little whine from him as Waver moves away. He follows the motion in pursuit of the extra warmth. It felt nice, nicer than he'd admit. He takes the offered jar, though, even if he might not use it for this particular injury. There will be more later, more severe, and he's too proud to ask for help when he needs it.

A low rumble sounds in his throat as Waver chides him again. A brief flare of anger rushes through him, a defensive response. Berserker is more protective of Diarmuid than he realizes.

"He didn't have to interfere. It was my fight." If the Lancer hadn't interfered, either Caster or himself would have died, if not both of them. That's not the point, though.

"If he was ever in danger, I would protect him with my life." He pauses and narrows his eyes. "He can defend himself, too, you know."

"Huh?" Waver stares at him, brows cocked. The defensiveness surprises him

"I never said he can't. What are you on about?" Waver sits back, elbows resting on his knees. He's staring up at Berserker with thinly veiled annoyance, trying to put on his patient voice.

"Calm down. I never said anything about you not defending him or whatever. I'm just saying that if you get hurt and he has to deal with it, it's just a big headache for everyone. Including me. So that whole 'I'm a tough guy and I'm gonna tough it out' attitude you've got going on? Rethink it. You're not the only one it affects."

"My injuries are my business. I've told him that much, too."

Accepting help is beyond him most of the time. He mostly accepted help from Waver to get him to leave him alone and stop looking worried about his injuries. It's like a sad dog looking at you and he can't deal with sad dogs.

Berserker's sudden protective outburst seems to have flustered him and he accepts the scolding. Why did he react that way...? It's the same reason Archer nearly bit his ear off when he injured Caster: a dragon's instincts. Some things he can't control and they're increasingly getting on his nerves.

"...I know that. I can survive, though. Don't worry about me."

Dismissive.

"I told you I'm not worried."

Listen. Stop calling him out like this. It's uncalled for!

"Besides. It'd be my business if I was or not. The point is, even if I'm not the one Bonded to you, as things stand right now we're still a team. I'm only being practical. And you're being ridiculous."

Sorry, Berserker. He's always in lecturing mode if someone lets him.

But there really are only so many ways he can repeat himself. If Berserker doesn't get it through his thick dragon skull, there's nothing to be done. Waver sighs, and moves to stand. His hands are covered in the poultice he'd been rubbing onto Berserker's shoulders, and he doesn't have a kerchief on hand.

Though, with Berserker kneeling right in front of him, Waver finds himself a little trapped. He'll have to get awkwardly close to go around.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands. Put some of that stuff in the jar you're holding on your ear."

Awkwardly close and Berserker doesn't particularly want to move -- he's being petty now. Plus, there's still that warmth that's drawing him in...Hm. Annoying.

"Whatever, I'll do what you say," he mutters and stands up once the other passes him. He takes a moment to apply the salve to his ear, leaving the jar on the table when he's done.

With that out of the way and with Waver out of the chair, he takes his place. The residual warmth was too much to pass up. He curls up tightly, not really mindful of the fact he's wearing only a towel still. He can't care, he's comfortable and warm...Sorry, Waver.

Waver waits there for a few awkward seconds, having hoped that announcing his intentions would have gotten Berserker to move, but apparently not so. His mouth tightens with annoyance, but Waver is also too stubborn. He realizes it's probably on purpose and suddenly doesn't want to give Berserker the satisfaction(?) of asking, so he just squeezes past, even if the brush against the dragon's bare skin is a little uncomfortable and embarrassing.

After a few minutes, Waver returns with clean hands and a fresh mug of tea, which he'd been about to offer to Berserker-- but then he spots the man squeezed into his chair, curled up tight enough to fit most of his body on it even though it's more Waver-sized than not.

Another sigh. At least the towel and position keep his decency thus far.

"Your clothes aren't dry, but we have blankets. And hot tea. Here."

Waver steps closer, offering the steaming mug.

"Drink this. Stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking, I'm just cold."

He takes the tea from Waver and, in return, gets up from the chair. See? He's not a total jerk. Berserker sits down cross-legged on the floor instead. He's a bit like a dog caught on the furniture, slinking off when he's scolded.

"I appreciate the courtesy."

Hm. What's nicer than blankets is body warmth, but like hell he's going to ask about it. Though...

"I wonder how you'd react if I asked you for something unreasonable."

Oh. Waver hadn't expected him to get up. He blinks, watching Berserker slink onto the floor again like a scolded puppy, and he even almost feels bad.

But since the chair is vacated, there's no point in leaving it empty. Waver reclaims it, settling down and grabbing his own by-now lukewarm tea to sip. His brows rise at Berserker's question.

"Unreasonable how?" He's very curious now, though. "I couldn't say unless you ask."

There's a moment as he thinks of how to phrase this. It's weird and embarrassing to want anything like this, so it's difficult to ask. He takes a sip from his tea with his gaze leveled on Waver. A sigh comes before he finally manages to ask.

"You're warm. I want to share that warmth."

It's practical, in his mind. He's not asking for cuddles, but he's asking for cuddles.

"H-huh?"

Even though Berserker had called it 'unreasonable' Waver finds himself completely unprepared for the question itself. He stares a moment, as if trying to decipher what it could possibly mean, and whether he'd heard right. Maybe unreasonable isn't exactly the correct word, but it certainly is unexpected.

"You mean... like... body heat?"

He's blushing faintly again, but at least he's not outright saying no. Berserker looks so pathetic sitting on the floor in only a towel, and Waver's seen how listless and miserable the reptilian Monsters have been in this stupid out-of-season cold. If he doesn't like it, and he's warm-blooded, it must be really awful for a dragon.

...and after all that fuss he'd made over Berserker having to take care of himself and not put strain on their Bonded, it seems laughably hypocritical to reject him now.

Waver sighs, setting down his cup.

"All right. But you'll also use a blanket." It's too much if Berserker is basically completely naked. Even a blanket isn't... a lot, but it'll have to do. Waver's clothing certainly won't fit, and he's not comfortable digging through Diarmuid's, which may or may not fit at all anyway. They'll have to compromise.

"Deal?"

That's better than he expected. He'd been expecting an incredulous response and an outright rejection. The stipulation is reasonable, too. Berserker nods.

"Deal."

He takes another drink from his tea.

"...And thank you."

Waver owed him nothing, after all. Their alliance is one mostly out of convenience complicated by a Bond and newfound instincts. He didn't have to do anything for Berserker, especially not agree to something that's frankly ridiculous. It's not like being a little uncomfortably cold will kill him.

"Don't mention it," Waver replies stiffly, finishing his own tea and moving to get up again. Then, after a beat: "No, really. Don't mention it. It's weird."

It's only for a little bit until Berserker warms up, though. No one else needs to know.

Waver clears his throat awkwardly, mumbling something about washing the cup and getting the blanket or somesuch, and scurries away.

To his credit, he doesn't actually run away from the awkward agreement, though. After the cup is set back in the kitchen, Waver returns a few minutes later with a veritable armful of blankets, the tops of his fuzzy ears just barely peeking over the mountain of them. They're all dumped on the ground in front of the hearth, some possibly on Berserker's lap.

"There. Get comfortable."

They won't both fit in the chair, and the sofa is too far from the fire. Floor cuddles it is.

It was weird and there was no way he was going to mention this to anyone ever again. It's something to act on, then pretend it never happened. What had gotten into him to even ask for this...?

Before he can think on it too much, there's an avalanche of blankets dumped around him. Berserker expected Waver to disappear and never come back, too embarrassed to make good on what they'd agreed to. He passes off his own empty teacup with a questioning glance, then sets about making a decent nest out of the offered blankets.

The towel wrapped around his waist is abandoned before he burrows his way into the the cozy nest. There won't be much barrier between them, but he's still holding good on their agreement. He waits (relatively) patiently for Waver to join him.

Waver briefly looks away when he realizes Berserker is ditching the towel, but thankfully the blankets mean he's actually better covered, and in fairness the towel was damp. While he gets situated, Waver grabs it quickly from the pile and hangs it over the chair to dry, setting aside the mug as well. And then--

"Er... Okay, where should I...?"

Yeah, this is awkward. He shouldn't have agreed. Now what??

Waver grabs his book, clutching it like a lifeline, and gingerly steps into the blanket nest like he expects it to be quicksand he's voluntarily wading into.

"I'll just... sit here." Wherever he can make some room to be comfortable. His ears are already red.

The moment Waver settles down, Berserker wraps his arms around his waist and draws himself closer. He rests his head in the smaller man's lap, content to leech off his warmth like this. You're trapped now, buddy.

There's an odd sound coming from the dragon, a low rumble not quite unlike a cat's purr. Waver is safe to be vulnerable around -- if Diarmuid trusts him enough to bond with, then it's okay he sees this side of him. Rarely does he feel safe enough to let his guard down, much less let someone else near him at the same time. Safe and comfortable...

He snuggles up a little bit closer, nuzzling against Waver's leg. Sorry about the horns -- at least he's trying to be mindful of them and not jab him.

"Eh--? Wah...!"

Waver very nearly flops over on top of him with that tug, strong arms suddenly around his waist dragging him closer. He's gotten unused to being manhandled so easily, but weirdly, it doesn't bother him that much aside from being a bit startling.

But he's stuck now, isn't he? Berserker is practically burrowing against his lap, nuzzling like some ridiculous giant puppy. Or cat, judging by that rumbling purr of a noise.

"A little warning would have been nice," he sighs, without any genuine animosity. He is going to reach down and try to nudge Berserker's head away from his thigh enough that his horn will stop digging in, though. "Watch the horns, spiky."

At least Waver is wearing pants even if Berserker isn't. This would have been exceptionally awkward otherwise.

Edited 2019-07-17 22:47 (UTC)

A giant needy puppy who's suddenly remembered how much he actually enjoys physical affection after denying himself for so long. He'll tell himself that this is practical and nothing more, but it also just feels good to let himself indulge like this. Waver's warm and comfortable, a nice reprieve from the unseasonable cold.

"You should have expected it," he says with any real feeling. He lets Waver move his head enough to stop the poking before settling in further. He's being mindful of boundaries, too, and not trying to find ways to touch his bare skin.

It's definitely good one of them is wearing pants. Having someone suddenly shove their head in your lap is awkward, but it's worse when there's less clothing involved. The less thought put into that the better.

A thought occurs to him and he looks up at Waver.

"Don't answer this if you don't want to, but I'm curious...What's your connection to Diarmuid? You weren't his Master, I can tell that."

July Quests and Catch-All [OPEN]

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