[hello hunter. ryn's busy checking out what they can see of the dorms, already changed into a different outfit-- long-sleeved, high-necked dark grey robes and gloves, leaving only his face and ears uncovered. nooo more jumpsuit.]
...so, what do you make of our [air quotes included] 'eternal punishment'.
[Farewell jumpsuit. Hunter has changed into another outfit as well, but... It is honestly not that much better than the prison garb. He's still wearing crocs. Willingly. Awful.]
It's stupid. [LIFE IS ALREADY A NIGHTMARE. He huffs.] But I can't tell if they're really that into it, or overcompensating for something. [Or both. Mystery.
Hunter isn't alone, though. There's red cardinal perched on his shoulder, just chilling.]
[hey what the fuck i did NOT get a notif on our first pc. god. we're fixing it now because he's seeking out hunter, wherever he happens to be, however long after execution works for you.]
Hunter? How's your condition.
[straight to the point. he might not heal anymore, but still.]
[Hunter is probably tucked away in some corner of the hell void, checking out his nose on his phone's front camera while Flapjack fusses at him. He will at least put down his phone when Rynlan finds him, though.]
... I'm fine. [But then the bird promptly yanks on his little hair noodle, chirping like he's calling him out.] Ow— I said I'm fine!
[He is very fine and also nursing some flash burns, cuts, scratches and a whole lot of bruising. Public executions just be like that.]
[That sure all happened! Hunter will be in the common room, idly tracing a finger over a scar on his neck while he looks at Flapjack thoughtfully. For once, the bird isn't using him as a perch, but instead sitting on the back of the couch while warbling in concern.]
Hm? [Still a little distracted by the bird, but.] Oh, uh, yeah. I guess. I didn't get off as badly as the others.
[hello hunter... it's much easier for me to frontload memories, so we're starting off with getting dumped right into the memory hole.
the version of rynlan on the screen is-- a lot different. clearly a lot younger, and not at all blue, with none of the usual echo in his voice. he's pale, blond, with a long braid that reaches to his waist.
it's stained here and there with blood where it's brushed against the floor, his sleeves and the front and hem of his robes similarly reddened. most of it isn't his own, though; the bodies all around him are covered in it, the urgent voices of other healers cutting in over their muffled noises of pain.
'dawnslight. any luck?'
he doesn't look up from his work, exhaustion clear on his face as his hands glow with warm light, desperately trying to restore the half-conscious elf he's kneeling next to. 'no, sir. this disease-- it won't purge. these wounds are heavily infected. i'm doing all i can and it's barely even...'
the elf makes a choked, pained sound, struggling to breathe, and his ears flatten back.
'...as i thought,' the older healer murmurs. 'the scourge carry plagues. we're only dragging out the inevitable, here-- save every one of them that you can, but if you see signs of infection, you need to... you need to reserve your energy.'
'sir-?' he asks, glancing up, his voice disbelieving and shaky, but... he asks nothing else after looking at the man's face. at the way the lines on it look almost like he's aged just from what they've gone through so far today, the unmistakable twist of grief to his expression. rynlan's ears droop, and when he can find his voice again, he whispers, '...understood.'
the bodies are ordered burned. more injured elves continue to be brought in, the chaos of their makeshift field ward and the number of bodies growing, until the sounds of alarm bells and distant shouts and screams carry over the sounds here. a ranger, barely still on his feet, shoves his way in smelling of smoke and hoarsely croaks out-- 'the dead broke through. they've broken through.'
there's no way out, from their position. the grim expressions around the area make it clear enough.
'tell our guard they're defending this position.'
'understood.'
...and back in hell, rynlan watches the memory fade out in silence, eyes closing for a few moments before he murmurs-]
[Oh, geez. Hunter remains silent for a moment after the memory fades and the screen goes dark again, listening carefully to Rynlan's words despite not understanding shit.
After a moment, quietly:]
... Sorry. [Oof.] Were you at war with the undead...?
[he's chilling in the library! and he is, in fact, resting. it looks like that's probably due to the state of his leg; it's not like he can go anywhere anyway.]
entering the home biome with rynlan leaves it shaping itself into something familiar to him: they're standing by a small pond in a forest, peaceful and calm, with birdsong and the occasional screech of some unfamiliar sort of animal providing background noise.
rynlan doesn't say anything, at first. he's just standing at the edge of the pond, leaning heavily on his makeshift cane as he silently takes in the view.]
[It is even colder outside so, honestly? Rynlan is valid. Hunter may or may not still be a tiny wolf depending on whatever you think if funnier, but he takes a seat nearby, rubbing his nose because he's already congested from the cold.]
I'm surprised they managed to get it to be this cold with all the lava out there.
[back on the university island! he's hanging around the dorms, warming back up. he is no longer wearing the boy band shirt, wrapped in thancred's coat.]
w0 sunday
...so, what do you make of our [air quotes included] 'eternal punishment'.
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It's stupid. [LIFE IS ALREADY A NIGHTMARE. He huffs.] But I can't tell if they're really that into it, or overcompensating for something. [Or both. Mystery.
Hunter isn't alone, though. There's red cardinal perched on his shoulder, just chilling.]
w0 sunday... 2!
Hunter? How's your condition.
[straight to the point. he might not heal anymore, but still.]
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... I'm fine. [But then the bird promptly yanks on his little hair noodle, chirping like he's calling him out.] Ow— I said I'm fine!
[He is very fine and also nursing some flash burns, cuts, scratches and a whole lot of bruising. Public executions just be like that.]
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[flapjack gets a little smile. thank you for not letting that stand.]
We don't have much in the way of supplies, but if there's anything bothering you worse than the rest, I'll see what we can do.
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w1 wednesday
Why. I don't even care how, just- why.
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He freezes immediately to stare.]
... Did I miss something.
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w1 sunday
the siamese cat perched on his shoulder meows, demanding, and he mutters-]
Yes, yes, I know, we're going to have to figure something out for you.
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You got one, too?
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w2 thursday aaaa
Have you had everything seen to? If you tell me no I'm going to have words with a few people, believe me.
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Hm? [Still a little distracted by the bird, but.] Oh, uh, yeah. I guess. I didn't get off as badly as the others.
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w3 monday
the version of rynlan on the screen is-- a lot different. clearly a lot younger, and not at all blue, with none of the usual echo in his voice. he's pale, blond, with a long braid that reaches to his waist.
it's stained here and there with blood where it's brushed against the floor, his sleeves and the front and hem of his robes similarly reddened. most of it isn't his own, though; the bodies all around him are covered in it, the urgent voices of other healers cutting in over their muffled noises of pain.
'dawnslight. any luck?'
he doesn't look up from his work, exhaustion clear on his face as his hands glow with warm light, desperately trying to restore the half-conscious elf he's kneeling next to. 'no, sir. this disease-- it won't purge. these wounds are heavily infected. i'm doing all i can and it's barely even...'
the elf makes a choked, pained sound, struggling to breathe, and his ears flatten back.
'...as i thought,' the older healer murmurs. 'the scourge carry plagues. we're only dragging out the inevitable, here-- save every one of them that you can, but if you see signs of infection, you need to... you need to reserve your energy.'
'sir-?' he asks, glancing up, his voice disbelieving and shaky, but... he asks nothing else after looking at the man's face. at the way the lines on it look almost like he's aged just from what they've gone through so far today, the unmistakable twist of grief to his expression. rynlan's ears droop, and when he can find his voice again, he whispers, '...understood.'
the bodies are ordered burned. more injured elves continue to be brought in, the chaos of their makeshift field ward and the number of bodies growing, until the sounds of alarm bells and distant shouts and screams carry over the sounds here. a ranger, barely still on his feet, shoves his way in smelling of smoke and hoarsely croaks out-- 'the dead broke through. they've broken through.'
there's no way out, from their position. the grim expressions around the area make it clear enough.
'tell our guard they're defending this position.'
'understood.'
...and back in hell, rynlan watches the memory fade out in silence, eyes closing for a few moments before he murmurs-]
Elu'meniel mal alann.
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After a moment, quietly:]
... Sorry. [Oof.] Were you at war with the undead...?
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w3 sunday
...rough one again.
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Tomorrow's gonna be even worse.
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week four, thursday.
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w4 saturday
he's literally just sitting on the floor somewhere, he did not make it all the way to his room before he was just Done.]
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Do you need help getting to your room?
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w5 monday
entering the home biome with rynlan leaves it shaping itself into something familiar to him: they're standing by a small pond in a forest, peaceful and calm, with birdsong and the occasional screech of some unfamiliar sort of animal providing background noise.
rynlan doesn't say anything, at first. he's just standing at the edge of the pond, leaning heavily on his makeshift cane as he silently takes in the view.]
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... This is nice.
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w6 monday
Should have brought a coat...
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I'm surprised they managed to get it to be this cold with all the lava out there.
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week six, thursday.
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-Hunter?
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