[ Ochre makes a small grumbling noise as he claws his way out of the massive nest the Caretaker had put them all into, trying to scramble free of the mass of pillows and blankets and- yeah, those were plushies.
The going was rougher than it really should have been, muscles aching with the strain of the last game they'd been in, his whole body aching in ways that he's pretty sure shouldn't be physically possible. Then again, this was Kyriakos, who knew what was possible. Finally, with a last push, Ochre rolled out onto the deck, panting heavily. Damned games, damned echos, and damn their inability to heal shit the entire way.
His leg hurt, but Ochre had finally freed himself, and his stomach was insistent. Wishing he still had his shield- or his chair, or a desk, honestly anything to lean against would be fine, Ochre starts towards the stairs. Every step is agony, teeth gritted to try and keep in the pained noises he wants to make as he shuffles forward, but he refuses to get help just to get to the stairs. Besides, everyone's asleep, and he refuses to wake someone up just because he has the midnight munchies. ]
every chime of the bell, signalling a new game is afoot, kicks up a familiar fear in his heart. his charges are to be summoned, thrust into the realm of another echo who holds complete power over them, and there is nothing he can do about it. there is nothing that any of them can do about it. it is the nature of this place. the only thing that caretaker can do is be there to pick up the pieces, sometimes quite literally.
today was no exception.
this afternoon's game had put them all through the ringer. the echo had broken their bodies as punishment for losing and left them discarded on the floor like unwanted toys. they had, per standard, offered some healing as a consultation prize, but it hadn't meant that much. caretaker still had to organise quests to heal his charges, doling out tasks to repair wounds they should have never received. in the meantime, he bundles them all up into a nest in the living quarters to sleep where he can keep an eye on them.
he sleeps by their side, curled up on the floor near them, or at least until a wayward charge escapes. ochre is not quiet, making noise through the entire process of pulling himself up and trying to hobble away.
where is he going?
ochre stumbles then, nearly tripping over his own feet. that is when the caretaker can no longer simply observe. gently, he presses a paw against ochre's back to save him from falling. )
[ He startles, eyes wide as he looks up- and seriously, how long'd he been standing there? ]
Holy-
[ He doesn't manage to cut himself in time, still letting out a startled yelp, but as he freezes and waits, it doesn't sound like he'd woken any of the others. ]
What're you doin' awake?
[ Even as he talks, Ochre's slumping back against the Caretaker, taking his weight off of his busted leg. He really should have known the Caretaker would have heard him wake up, the guy had good hearing. Ochre wasn't sure if he should be annoyed at being caught, or grateful at the chance to take some weight off.
...he hadn't even gotten half way to the ladder, damn it. ]
Ah. I was having trouble sleeping. Bit too warm this evening.
( a lie, but one he tells for ochre's sake. the boy doesn't need to hear the weight of caretaker's worries when he is surely already consumed by his own. )
I was thinking of making some tea. Would you like to come with me?
[ He'd only been here for a few months- he thinks, time in Kyriakos being what it is, and he never knew how long games actually ran for- but he can't remember it ever being bad in their dorm.
Other than- well, when Delriza had been hurt. He was pretty sure that didn't count, though.
Still, instead of answering, Ochre just sways forward, wrapping one arm around the Caretaker's for support, and takes a hopping step towards the stairs. ]
It's because I am in need of a trim. The weather may not change, but I am ever growing.
( for emphasis, he uses his spare paw to fluff up some of the poofy fur at his neck. he does this while ochre uses his arm as a pillar of support, quietly ignoring it.
he only walks in time with ochre, allowing him to make his way up the stairs. )
The trip down the stairs to the kitchen is aggravatingly slow, Ochre taking one step at a time instead of two or three like he usually did. Still, the Caretaker never reacted, even when he has to leave heavily on him for a few seconds too long, having jostled his bad knee in a way that sent pain shooting up through his bones.
Finally, on the last couple steps, Ochre speaks again, his voice tense with the pain and the frustration- towards himself, the echo who'd run today, the bullshit his team had pulled that left everyone lying on the deck in pain, rather than just a few just him. ]
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set after any given trauma game
The going was rougher than it really should have been, muscles aching with the strain of the last game they'd been in, his whole body aching in ways that he's pretty sure shouldn't be physically possible. Then again, this was Kyriakos, who knew what was possible. Finally, with a last push, Ochre rolled out onto the deck, panting heavily. Damned games, damned echos, and damn their inability to heal shit the entire way.
His leg hurt, but Ochre had finally freed himself, and his stomach was insistent. Wishing he still had his shield- or his chair, or a desk, honestly anything to lean against would be fine, Ochre starts towards the stairs. Every step is agony, teeth gritted to try and keep in the pained noises he wants to make as he shuffles forward, but he refuses to get help just to get to the stairs. Besides, everyone's asleep, and he refuses to wake someone up just because he has the midnight munchies. ]
no subject
every chime of the bell, signalling a new game is afoot, kicks up a familiar fear in his heart. his charges are to be summoned, thrust into the realm of another echo who holds complete power over them, and there is nothing he can do about it. there is nothing that any of them can do about it. it is the nature of this place. the only thing that caretaker can do is be there to pick up the pieces, sometimes quite literally.
today was no exception.
this afternoon's game had put them all through the ringer. the echo had broken their bodies as punishment for losing and left them discarded on the floor like unwanted toys. they had, per standard, offered some healing as a consultation prize, but it hadn't meant that much. caretaker still had to organise quests to heal his charges, doling out tasks to repair wounds they should have never received. in the meantime, he bundles them all up into a nest in the living quarters to sleep where he can keep an eye on them.
he sleeps by their side, curled up on the floor near them, or at least until a wayward charge escapes. ochre is not quiet, making noise through the entire process of pulling himself up and trying to hobble away.
where is he going?
ochre stumbles then, nearly tripping over his own feet. that is when the caretaker can no longer simply observe. gently, he presses a paw against ochre's back to save him from falling. )
Sir Ochre. May I assist you?
no subject
Holy-
[ He doesn't manage to cut himself in time, still letting out a startled yelp, but as he freezes and waits, it doesn't sound like he'd woken any of the others. ]
What're you doin' awake?
[ Even as he talks, Ochre's slumping back against the Caretaker, taking his weight off of his busted leg. He really should have known the Caretaker would have heard him wake up, the guy had good hearing. Ochre wasn't sure if he should be annoyed at being caught, or grateful at the chance to take some weight off.
...he hadn't even gotten half way to the ladder, damn it. ]
no subject
( a lie, but one he tells for ochre's sake. the boy doesn't need to hear the weight of caretaker's worries when he is surely already consumed by his own. )
I was thinking of making some tea. Would you like to come with me?
no subject
[ He'd only been here for a few months- he thinks, time in Kyriakos being what it is, and he never knew how long games actually ran for- but he can't remember it ever being bad in their dorm.
Other than- well, when Delriza had been hurt. He was pretty sure that didn't count, though.
Still, instead of answering, Ochre just sways forward, wrapping one arm around the Caretaker's for support, and takes a hopping step towards the stairs. ]
no subject
( for emphasis, he uses his spare paw to fluff up some of the poofy fur at his neck. he does this while ochre uses his arm as a pillar of support, quietly ignoring it.
he only walks in time with ochre, allowing him to make his way up the stairs. )
no subject
[ He'd needed to redye his roots, after all.
The trip down the stairs to the kitchen is aggravatingly slow, Ochre taking one step at a time instead of two or three like he usually did. Still, the Caretaker never reacted, even when he has to leave heavily on him for a few seconds too long, having jostled his bad knee in a way that sent pain shooting up through his bones.
Finally, on the last couple steps, Ochre speaks again, his voice tense with the pain and the frustration- towards himself, the echo who'd run today, the bullshit his team had pulled that left everyone lying on the deck in pain, rather than just a few
just him. ]Tea, huh? What kind we got?