Abelas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
getoutofmytemple) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2017-10-26 09:42 pm
getoutofmytemple) wrote in nysalogs2017-10-26 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
Open!
Who: Abelas (getoutofmytemple) & open!
What: Catch all for the event
When: Over the course of the month
Where: Olympia & Wyver
Warning(s): Illness, blood, Abelas is a huge jerk
[I: Early in the Month]
[Well after it had been clarified that he had not, in fact, been poisoned, Abelas' outlook on his condition... hadn't changed at all really. The sweet embrace of death was upon him, and he did not want to spend his last days holed up uselessly in a room.
However this plague upon him had other ideas, so as far as he was able to go was the kitchen before he gave up. Thus, by the sheer force of stubborn will he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, trying to go about writing notes on the area for reference.
Then the door opens and the rush of air triggers something in him, and he sneezes, sending his papers scattering over the table and falling onto the floor. Slowly he looks at the new arrival with a harsh stare, not so much directed at them as much as the miserable state of his existance.]
[II: Post Evacuation]
[A]
[Abelas glared as someone entered the room he had been shuffled into in the commotion of the evacuation. He had once again taken out the IV that had been keeping him hydrated. Even without the illness impairing him, he very much would not have cared to have something poking about his veins. Now with a healthy dose of paranoia, he quickly grew wary and agitated at the poking and prodding that came with those that tended to him.
He shot the new arrival a harsh glare, already predicting their next words would likely be.]
I shall drink when I am thirsty.
[B]
[Well, somehow he's managed to escape again. Magically making yourself invisible was handy when he spontaneously did not feel like resting and getting force fed any longer. There was a small part of him that was aware that it was the illness clouding his judgement, but the larger part of him hated taking orders from those centuries younger than him, and was fairly certain he was going to die and did not wish to do so laying quietly in a bed.
It was not until he was out and stumbling around like a drunk with a bloody nose that he realized that dying in the streets was probably not the best alternative. Eventually he found himself sitting on a bench holding a cloth to his face to stay the bleeding, ignored for the most part while people rushed around to tend to the refugees.
[Wildcard]
getoutofmytemple) & open! What: Catch all for the event
When: Over the course of the month
Where: Olympia & Wyver
Warning(s): Illness, blood, Abelas is a huge jerk
[I: Early in the Month]
[Well after it had been clarified that he had not, in fact, been poisoned, Abelas' outlook on his condition... hadn't changed at all really. The sweet embrace of death was upon him, and he did not want to spend his last days holed up uselessly in a room.
However this plague upon him had other ideas, so as far as he was able to go was the kitchen before he gave up. Thus, by the sheer force of stubborn will he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, trying to go about writing notes on the area for reference.
Then the door opens and the rush of air triggers something in him, and he sneezes, sending his papers scattering over the table and falling onto the floor. Slowly he looks at the new arrival with a harsh stare, not so much directed at them as much as the miserable state of his existance.]
[II: Post Evacuation]
[A]
[Abelas glared as someone entered the room he had been shuffled into in the commotion of the evacuation. He had once again taken out the IV that had been keeping him hydrated. Even without the illness impairing him, he very much would not have cared to have something poking about his veins. Now with a healthy dose of paranoia, he quickly grew wary and agitated at the poking and prodding that came with those that tended to him.
He shot the new arrival a harsh glare, already predicting their next words would likely be.]
I shall drink when I am thirsty.
[B]
[Well, somehow he's managed to escape again. Magically making yourself invisible was handy when he spontaneously did not feel like resting and getting force fed any longer. There was a small part of him that was aware that it was the illness clouding his judgement, but the larger part of him hated taking orders from those centuries younger than him, and was fairly certain he was going to die and did not wish to do so laying quietly in a bed.
It was not until he was out and stumbling around like a drunk with a bloody nose that he realized that dying in the streets was probably not the best alternative. Eventually he found himself sitting on a bench holding a cloth to his face to stay the bleeding, ignored for the most part while people rushed around to tend to the refugees.
[Wildcard]
I
After waking up today, he is reconsidering his options. Dorian wasn’t so bad, and it was not as if the Institute was poorly funded. He would do better work there if he was readily available.]
Oh don’t get up.
[His tone is predictably put upon, as if it causes him great pain to bend over and pick up the papers nearest him.]
I certainly wouldn’t, if I were you.
no subject
He doesn't take his eyes off the stranger, however.]
I am perfectly capable of standing.
no subject
Of course. But I was already standing. We unfortunate souls need to support one another, wouldn’t you agree?
[He turns to consider some options for food, mentally battling the onset of a stomach ache.]
At least you have work to do. None of this realm’s magic works quite as I expect it to.
no subject
The work I do is my own. There is much to make note of for personal reference, and much to make certain is not forgotten.
[But of course he was writing it in ancient Elvhen, which to his knowledge only one other could read... as least not without the aide of Veilfire. However if this one was capable of magic, then perhaps veilfire wasn't out of this one's abilities? There was something peculiar about him- at least his eyes were more odd that he expected to see of shemlen.]
You are a mage then?
no subject
[He had been capable of much more than he is currently, but that was neither here nor there. Instead of going for the refridgerator, he takes a seat across from the other man while idly tapping clawed gauntlets.]
All dragons are. To varying degrees of success.
no subject
For a dragon you seem to bare a striking resemblance to a human.
[a shapeshifter he could see, but even for one as old as he, it was difficult to believe that dragons could shapeshift in the reverse of what the Evanuris did... much less that they would fall ill. Perhaps the illness had gone to his head.]
no subject
[He suppresses a cough and leans back to gesture while shrugging. He would hardly be the first to question him.]
I cannot say I blame them. I know what I and others of my kind are capable of.
no subject
[Because this entire thing here? The stuffed up, coughing, sneezing, achy plague brought upon him? Shemlen's fault. It could have all be avoided had he worked harder at avoiding them.]
I have seen far worse committed by those that took the form of a dragon than the beasts themselves, though they were not so delusional to believe themselves to actually be dragons.
no subject
[He is pretty sure he is being accused of being insane, but he has never needed to justify his existence to anyone before. It seems silly to start now.
And yet.]
I was born of one of the last clutches in my flight. In fact, I am thr last of the Black dragons on Azeroth. No great loss, I assure you.
no subject
[He shrugged, and punctuated it with a stifled sneeze. He scowled, loathing the sensation, but then continued on with the conversation. The other may be mad, but at this point he cared little. Conversation was conversation he supposed, even if it was with an oddity.
Not that he had much room to talk.]
I could say much the same about many of my kind as well, still I mourn what we once were.
[Of course there still had been enough good that he did not feel their empire needed to have crumbled as it did, but that was a thousand years in the past. He could at least commiserate on being the last of something, even if the other's claim may simply be a delusion.]