neunkugeln | fable inbox 🍌🌼

[He doesn't move for a moment, but it does sound like a good idea. So he'll turn on the tap...

...

And just dunk his entire head under it.]

[From where she is, she can see him fairly clearly, and when he turns on the water and—]

That's not—

[She's about to call out her protest, but in the end, decides against it. She dismisses it with a groan and a wave of her hand before she's pushing herself to her feet and crossing to the kitchen to grab a fresh towel that she'll just drape over his shoulder.]

Here.

[JUST GIVE HIM A FEW MOMENTS...and then he really will tilt his head so he can just drink straight from the faucet. But after a few mouthfuls and cold water later, he pulls at the towel and slowly wipes his face.]

Sorry... Just... Suddenly really hot...

[...

Ilsa stares for a second too long before she steals her eyes away, looking anywhere but at him or the way his wet hair clings to his forehead, or how the water dribbles down the sides of his face—]

You should sit down. I can make room on the couch for you.

All right...

[Ugh... His head... Pounding... And he'll sluggishly trudge over to the couch before he flops onto it, head automatically tilting back against the back rest.]

[Ah—

Well... Alright. He flopped on there before she could move the pillows around to be more comfortable, but if he's fine, then... so be it. She's so tired, she's not going to argue with him anymore.

She'll pour him a tall glass of ice-cold water before dragging herself to the living room.

She's just going to slump down next to him and hand him the glass. The couch itself isn't that big—enough to fit the two of them and Valo if he squeezes in, but it is wide enough that she can comfortably stretch out and let her head fall back as well.]

Drink. Let's start getting you sobered up.

Mm... I think I've started...maybe...

[Though whether he'll be truly sober and in his correct mind is still questionable. He'll take the drink with some thanks and nurse it slowly. At least he's aware he's got a more empty stomach now, so drinking it too fast will do him no favors.]

...Sorry...about all this... You probably think I'm pathetic now...

[...Yeah pretty good hint he's still not of his right mind.]

[...

She watches him, something that feels a lot like pity knotting in her chest before she clicks her tongue.]

A little. [Yeah... Hard to deny that he has given her that impression today.] But not more pathetic than the fae that made you like this.

[That is to say... she doesn't blame him for it, nor does she actually think him pitiful.]

[OH HIS EARS ARE DROOPING. Even if it's just a little, it still stings. He only barely manages to not whimper about it.

Instead, he'll glance over at her at her last remark.]

...The fae?

Mm. I knew I couldn't trust them from the get-go, but any respect they have earned from me, they've thrown it to the wind.

[Ilsa never liked them much to begin with, so this just solidifies that she never, ever will. Especiallywhen she sees his ears drooping like he's some sad, kicked puppy.]

When you are feeling better, we're going to go have a few words with them. Preferably their leader, once I find them.

N-No, don't do that! They might do something against you!

[And probably in yet another bad decision, he suddenly turns and grabs her hands as if to plead with her.]

[While she doesn't snap her hands away from his, she does stare at them in shock, maybe a little bit of alarm, and she clears her throat she feels a heat creeping up into her cheeks.]

Then let them. I will give them something to truly regret after that. They can't keep thinking they can get away with this.

[Away with turning this man into the soft puppy that he is. She doesn't mind his softer side, but this is too much. She can hardly find it in her to respect Eustace when he keeps pouting like this.]

... But that will come later. For now, worry about getting back to your normal self.

[There's just a small whine from the back of his throat as he looks at her... Before the head pain, heat, and dizziness hits him and he groans.]

Sorry... Can I put my head down...

[He asked... But he's already tilting forward and his head flops unceremoniously onto her lap.]

[She's even going to grab him a pillow so that he can flop the other way, but as she turns to reach for it, she feels him fall onto her lap instead, and she freezes, the pillow partly on its way to be handed to him, and all she can do is gawp at Eustace...

...

....]

I-is that comfortable...?

[Why is she turning into a flustered, sputtering mess again now!?!??]

Mmm...

[He then unwittingly turns towards her waist, his arms wrapping around her as he starts to nuzzle her.]

...Soft...

[Oh dear primals in heaven...

Ilsa only stiffens further when he wraps his arms around her, and she still holds onto the pillow, not quite sure what to do with her hands now. Does she pat him? Does she put them to her sides? Does she rest them on his shoulder? No, she'll just... keep them up here for a little bit until she figures out what's going on.

But she also doesn't want to force him to move... He's been through a lot today, and she thinks it would be in his best interests to lie down, so...

...

....

Cue a very long, very awkward silence before Ilsa clears her throat.]

You're going to stay like this...?

Just... A little while...

[He'll feel his breath and his lips moving against her shirt as he continues to nuzzle into her.]

Smells nice... Soothing...

Ah... Thank...you...

[What does someone say to being told that they smell nice? And all while he is nuzzling his nose into her, coming so, so very close to finding his way beneath her shirt. His face is so near her that she can feel the heat of his breath and the brush of his lips through the fabric, and Ilsa tries not to squirm too much at the sensation...

...

Or the memories that it stirs.

After several moments of consideration, she sets the pillow down and beckons for Valo to hop up onto the couch. He does, on the other side of Eustace, and curls up next to his legs and rests his head there. Ilsa, meanwhile, lowers her hands to rest in his hair, next to his ears.

...

Before she very gently touches one.]

[There's a light, drowsy hum when he feels her fingertips at his ear, which flick a little before they still and relax.]

Feels nice...

[Another quiet murmur as he seems to beckon for her to continue.]

[Why does she feel so compelled to oblige? Perhaps because she knows exactly how nice it does feel to have someone gently touching her ears? Not that she's ever really felt it before... only the one time he had when they were together at the masquerade...

...

Which she tries not to think about.

Still, when it twitches, she tentatively reaches down and takes an ear in each hand, running her fingertips lightly along the tips, her nails tickling them.]

You're going to fall asleep at this rate.

[Again a slow reply and a soft hum of contentedness at her touch, his head tilting slightly more towards her hands. It'll be a bit, not until he's able to at least savor that touch and soothing, nice feeling of her touching his ears.]

Hmm...maybe... But I like this...

[The way he leans into it... Ilsa obliges further by moving her fingertips down, massaging the edges of his ears in the way that she sometimes does her own after a long, long day. It will be firm, her fingers strong, but not too firm that it will hurt. Just enough that he'll feel the muscles in them starting to loosen...

And then, for some reason, she finds herself suddenly asking—]

Do you let a lot of people touch them?

No...

[A quiet murmur with a sigh as he finds her touch just...so good. So... Different. One that could he let do this all day if he could.]

Just family before... Then Gran... Now you....

[...And then a small pause.]

Oh... There was someone else... At the party...

[Family, Gran... Her...

All of them are well and good. If Gran asked her, she would have likely said yes... once. She doesn't like her own being touched by anyone, especially strangers, but she would make a one-time exception if he was extremely polite about it, and—]

Someone at the party?

[Whatever thought process Ilsa had going on in the moment comes grinding to a halt at that, and her fingers stop massaging his ears, and she pulls back.]

... Who?

[Someone... else...

A woman?

...

Why does that thought make her stomach twist into a knot?]

[There's a small whine when she stops and he tilts his head to look up at her... ...Well as much of her as he can see since there's, uh, an obstruction in his way—]

Hm? ...Dorothea.

[Yep. A woman. And to make it worse—]

She wanted me to touch hers, too...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject