[Ilsa is far too busy trying to eavesdrop on the fae around the corner, her ears pricked forward and at attention to the whispering and giggling—something something enchantments something revenge—and it isn't until Eustace cries out again that she whirls around.
PRIMALS, HE'S GOING TO CHOKE HIS POOR DOG—
She rushes forward to try and pry Valo out of his arms.
Though, there is a bit of concern that weaves its way into her expression, furrowing her brow.
She was right. This is the work of the fae... As if she needed another reason to dislike them, and now that they've done this to Eustace—a man that she respects and even admires—she's going to have a few choice words for them when all of this is over.
For now, she's going to worry about him.
If he's going to keep blubbering on the ground rather than follow her, then she's going to have to put on her best commanding voice.]
[He's still a mess, especially after Valo is freed from his grasp, but he'll stumble to his feet.
And almost fall over because he's terribly drunk right now. It would honestly be a great mercy if he doesn't remember any of this, but who knows......]
Ilsa catches him with a hand to his chest as he grabs onto her before he can fall and take her down with him, and she's going to try and straighten him again.
She can still hear the tittering and giggling of the fae from further away, and she's half tempted to go after them and squash them under her boot right now—]
[Her nose crinkles again when she gets a whiff of the alcohol on him... Maybe she should draw him a bath when they get back, too—she doesn't want this smell lingering in her home after he' gone.
On their way, Ilsa picks up the bag of boxes that she had grabbed on her search for him from one of the outdoor tables, and she rustles it to grab his attention.]
Valo and I found these when we were looking for you. I didn't know you liked cream puffs.
[Oh primals this is why he never drinks so much—not that he's remembering that right now. Honestly amazing he's managed to still walk, a testament to his strong constitution, but he's still only human. Especially now that all the buzz and good feelings have disappeared and all he's left is feeling like a wretch.
And feeling like he needs to retch—
Bye Ilsa he's suddenly letting go to stumble and dash off to the side of the road. Insert the rainbow censor.]
[She yells it as he stumbles away from her and hurls (rainbows) on the side of the road. She closes her eyes, wincing, while Valo stands aside and whines.
And this is just another reason why Ilsa thinks those games are stupid. Sure, the fae are to blame for part of this with whatever sort of enchantment they put on him, but they didn't make him drink. It was the game... and it's knocked Eustace down to... this...
She's just going to walk up and... gently pat his back while he does so.]
This is why you shouldn't play those games.
[While she won't yell at him, she can't let the scolding go.]
[It's less about his pride and more about him not wanting to burden Ilsa, so he just quickly waves his hands and head—which was a mistake as he now holds it for a moment.]
While Ilsa thinks this is a matter of his pride and had respected it, she can no longer stand by and watch him suffer like this. So, before he can say another word, and before he can hurl up (rainbows) again, she lowers herself into a bit of a crouch, stretches her arms behind herself so that she can hook them behind his legs and hoist him onto her back—]
[She's about to remind him not to throw up all over her, and to just close his eyes until they get back to her cottage, but the words die right in her throat when she feels his hands...
...
Grabbing...
Her...
Ilsa freezes, and while this isn't the first time that he's... touched her there... this has a very different mood than that time.
She gives him about two seconds to remove them before she finally finds her voice again, but it's cracked with urgency and embarrassment as she feels her entire face heat up with colour.]
WELL? Are you going to move your hands or do I have to chew them off!?!?!
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PRIMALS, HE'S GOING TO CHOKE HIS POOR DOG—
She rushes forward to try and pry Valo out of his arms.
Though, there is a bit of concern that weaves its way into her expression, furrowing her brow.
She was right. This is the work of the fae... As if she needed another reason to dislike them, and now that they've done this to Eustace—a man that she respects and even admires—she's going to have a few choice words for them when all of this is over.
For now, she's going to worry about him.
If he's going to keep blubbering on the ground rather than follow her, then she's going to have to put on her best commanding voice.]
On your feet!
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[He's still a mess, especially after Valo is freed from his grasp, but he'll stumble to his feet.
And almost fall over because he's terribly drunk right now. It would honestly be a great mercy if he doesn't remember any of this, but who knows......]
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He better remember this later so that it doesn't happen again, and so that he can thank her for cleaning up after his giant mess!]
On second thought, you're going to come back and stay at my house until this wears off.
[And before he can get any ideas—]
But don't get any ideas.
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[Just staring at her blankly.]
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[If he didn't catch on or if it didn't spark any strange thoughts in his head, then good. She's going to keep it that way.
And she's going to pause, look down at Valo to make sure he's coming along, and then back at Eustace.]
... You can walk, right?
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[Takes one step forward. And then another. And then trips over a loose cobblestone, making him stumble and suddenly grab onto her.]
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Ilsa catches him with a hand to his chest as he grabs onto her before he can fall and take her down with him, and she's going to try and straighten him again.
She can still hear the tittering and giggling of the fae from further away, and she's half tempted to go after them and squash them under her boot right now—]
I don't need to carry you, do I?
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[Sounding very, very meek.]
Just your shoulder...
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On their way, Ilsa picks up the bag of boxes that she had grabbed on her search for him from one of the outdoor tables, and she rustles it to grab his attention.]
Valo and I found these when we were looking for you. I didn't know you liked cream puffs.
[So much that he ordered two dozen of them.]
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But at her words, he looks up...and there's a spark of light in his eyes.]
Ah... I got those for you.
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But as she looks down at the bag, and then back at him, she blinks wide in surprise.]
For me? You thought that I wanted two dozen cream puffs?
[A dry laugh.]
And then you left them behind at the café.
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[He doesn't realize how that sounds especially since the order of everything was the opposite.
But ughh....]
Maybe there is something wrong with me...
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Sighing, she clutches the bag a little tighter, guilt wrapping around her heart.]
No, there's nothing wrong with you. Not really. ... Thank you for the cream puffs.
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[He's wobbling.]
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What do you mean? Is it that stupid fae magic?
[SHE'S GOING TO KILL THEM]
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[Yeah he's definitely still nauseous and will probably puke soon.]
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Twenty plus drinks will surely do that to a person, won't it?]
Do you need to stop somewhere?
[Please do not hurl all over your shoes, Eustace... or worse, hers...]
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[Oh primals this is why he never drinks so much—not that he's remembering that right now. Honestly amazing he's managed to still walk, a testament to his strong constitution, but he's still only human. Especially now that all the buzz and good feelings have disappeared and all he's left is feeling like a wretch.
And feeling like he needs to retch—
Bye Ilsa he's suddenly letting go to stumble and dash off to the side of the road. Insert the rainbow censor.]
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[She yells it as he stumbles away from her and hurls (rainbows) on the side of the road. She closes her eyes, wincing, while Valo stands aside and whines.
And this is just another reason why Ilsa thinks those games are stupid. Sure, the fae are to blame for part of this with whatever sort of enchantment they put on him, but they didn't make him drink. It was the game... and it's knocked Eustace down to... this...
She's just going to walk up and... gently pat his back while he does so.]
This is why you shouldn't play those games.
[While she won't yell at him, she can't let the scolding go.]
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Ugh... My head...
[On the plus side it's all on the ground and not on himself???]
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Are you sure you don't need me to carry you?
[She can give him a piggy-back or something???]
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[It's less about his pride and more about him not wanting to burden Ilsa, so he just quickly waves his hands and head—which was a mistake as he now holds it for a moment.]
I...can make it...!
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.....
Nope. She's not buying it.
While Ilsa thinks this is a matter of his pride and had respected it, she can no longer stand by and watch him suffer like this. So, before he can say another word, and before he can hurl up (rainbows) again, she lowers herself into a bit of a crouch, stretches her arms behind herself so that she can hook them behind his legs and hoist him onto her back—]
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Which only gives him extreme vertigo and dizziness so he's going to hastily and tightly wrap his arms around her.]
Waugh—Ilsa!!!
[And because of how long his arms are...
....
His hands may have, in their frantic haste, grabbed her chest.]
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[She's about to remind him not to throw up all over her, and to just close his eyes until they get back to her cottage, but the words die right in her throat when she feels his hands...
...
Grabbing...
Her...
Ilsa freezes, and while this isn't the first time that he's... touched her there... this has a very different mood than that time.
She gives him about two seconds to remove them before she finally finds her voice again, but it's cracked with urgency and embarrassment as she feels her entire face heat up with colour.]
WELL? Are you going to move your hands or do I have to chew them off!?!?!
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🎀!!