When you first wake up, it takes a while for your thoughts to get in order. Details of your surroundings float up like corks in water - you’re not in sopor (did you fall asleep practicing?), you’re in a heap of soft things, and there is something rather large and weird-smelling right next to you. Also, your right arm feels weird. You blink slowly, and the events of the past day line up sluggishly, and you wincingly pull yourself out of the pile and take stock. Your arm - well, you guess that compared to earlier it’s an improvement. The rest of you still aches, but the ridiculous amount of painkillers you took don’t seemed to have gotten out of your system. The pain feels separated from you, like it’s happening to someone else far away. On the other hand, the grumbling from your digestion cavern feels quite immediate. You snag a blanket off one of the chairs, awkwardly drape it over your shoulders (stupid two-handed gesture modus) and head over to the nutrition block. Lophii’s already in there, tapping away on a husktop and picking at a plate of reheated delivery pizza. You sit down on one of the other chairs and snag one of the slices of pizza. “So, uh. Evening.”
Iridie's voice startles you. You had assumed she'd be out for a while. Hell, you fully intended to be out for a while yourself, but it turns out that being pumped full of adrenaline, and rushed to do impromptu emergency surgery on your... your friend kind of does a number on your personal fuel reserves. You'd been careful to extract yourself form the cozy pile of troll without jostling (you had been loathe to leave the cozy pile of troll at all; it felt right, being surrounded and safe like that) in order to go find something to eat. Praises be to all things deep and dark that Iridie had frozen pizzas in her thermal hull. She even had the kind with those little salty fish you love so much, even though she finds the things disgusting, and why does that make you blush? (You know why, you just aren't sure you want to think about it right now.) So into the heating unit it went, and you've been steadily noshing slices while trying to distract yourself with the internet ever since. You're browsing trolletsy when she plops across from you and grabs one herself. "Uh... hey. You don't have to eat that, I can make you something better." You slide out of your chair and walk over to the fridge. You very much do not look her in the eye, and you are definitely not feeling the tips of your fins sting with heat.
It takes you a moment to realize Lophii said something. "Oh, sure, thanks?" You're kind of staring at the table. "I, uh, thanks for. You know, coming over." This is super awkward.
"Yeah. I mean, what was I gonna do, let my friend bleed out on her floor?" She likes the kind with the little round and spicy meat slices, right? Aurgh, you feel like you should know this! Why does making food suddenly feel like a test? You go through the motions: take the dough circle out of the box, turn the knob in the heating unit to the number it shows on the back of the box, stick the food disc into the heating unit, and poke buttons until there's a little timer counting down the right amount of minutes. See? Not that hard! Why are you still so nervous?
Well, something's clearly eating at Lophii. "Hey, are you ok? You're acting weird. More than usual, I mean." You suppose the situation is pretty unusual, but even so. "Are you worried about the amputation thing? Because as far as I can tell you did fine."
"No, I'm good. I mean, It's good. That you're good." You wince. Holy shit what the fuck is even coming out of your mouth. You mentally try to will the timer to count down faster so you can both just stuff your faces and stop waving your talk flaps around, but time is indifferent to you. Okay fine, might as when get this out there or suffer an eternity of awkwardness. Cautiously, you side glance at Iridie and try to gauge her mood. "Are... are we still good?"
Wow, they are really worried "Why wouldn't we be good?" What a weird question, it's not like Lophii's done anything wrong. Basically the opposite, considering they dropped everything to come help you out and tried their best to make you feel better and - oh. Oh. Oh. "Uh! I mean yes. Yes we're good. I mean, I'm good, I don't know if you - that is," you are turning very blue and have precisely no clues on what to say, because holy shit. "Um, well," stop stammering and say something "Do you want any tea? There should still be some water in the kettle, so, yeah."
Oh wow, she's going bright as a blueberry. And now you kind of feel like a presumptuous ass, because she clearly wasn't thinking about all that business the same way you were. God, way to go, Lophii, perving on your best bud when she's hurt, and vulnerable, and- fuck! "Sure!" Your voice comes out as a squawk, and there you go that just killed it. You bite the inside of your cheek, crank the knob that controls the flat heating element on top all the way on in one jerk, and prod the kettle to make sure it's center. "That didn't... It doesn't have to mean anything. If you didn't mean it to. 'Cuz you were under a lot of stress, you know? And like, blood loss. That's a thing." Shut up, shut up, shut up, stop shoving your walk stubs down your throat, you dummy!
Aaand now Lophii's babbling and their fins are pinned back flat and ugh, this idiot. You sigh and walk over to their side. And then you bonk them on the head with your hand. "Lophii, while the circumstances were - weird, you didn't - ugh. I didn't say anything I didn't mean, except the stuff about horn cannibalism maybe. So stop being an idiot." You give them an awkward one-armed hug.
You get cut off mid babble by Iridie bapping the back of your skull. And then she hugs you. And you freeze. Your throat feels tight, it's hard to force the words out, but you're pretty sure you need to. "Iridie. I've never- this is... really new for me, okay, and I've never really thought about quadrants before, and I'm scared, so you gotta tell me if I mess something up. I really don't want to mess something up. Especially not with you." You feel her arm tighten around you, squeezing, and you carefully- so carefully, she's still battered and bruised- slide yours around her, and press her into your side. The top of her head is just the right height for you to rest your cheek between her horns, so you do.
"Of course I will, brinebreath, that's what moirails are for." And there, you actually said it. You lean in against Lophii, and the cool weight of them feels safe and - and well, nice.
You wander into the room with the wizards in, yawning and scratching your mane and thinking about having a wash-up, you are so gross. You never rinsed after your last night's work shift and then... and then everything. Oh, good, the wizards have sorted themselves out a bit and are comforting one another. That's good, you were starting to wonder if they even knew how. Strange little solitary critters... You scruff the warden's hair on your way past to the metal sink. Then you flip the latch that makes the water run— so convenient— and start rinsing, purring a little under your breath with the feeling of getting all the blood and dirt and sweat off. It's not really big enough for you to dip your arms into but there's a nubbly rough-textured pad of... something... that smells of the reeking floral soap the blue girl likes, and it serves well enough for a scrub. "Breakfast?" you ask them, hopefully, before remembering that no one here speaks anything but birdsong. You sigh and go back to washing, using a fine, pale bowl to rinse your back.
You must be riding high on pity hormones or something, because when a big, rough hand that couldn't possibly be Iridie's ruffles your hair affectionately, your first reaction is to chirp and lean into it. Fuck! What is wrong with you today? Are you honestly this attention starved that you're gonna pale flirt with the whole hive, or are you just addled in the pan? You cough awkwardly, detangle yourself from Iridie- form your moirail, holy shit!- and turn to address the other trunkbeast in the room. "What are you- no! Noonononoooaaah fuck nevermind." They've already slopped water all over the floor while apparently trying to bathe in the sink. Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose, and go take your unruly house guest by the elbow. "Don't worry about it, I'll help clean up," you tell Iridie over your shoulder while guiding Ur-gar back toward the ablutionblock. Tonight is going to be one of those nights.
You grumble, but the touch at your elbow feels right and it's easy enough to fall into line, for all that you have to lean forward a bit so as not to drag the warden off their little feet. You're escorted back to the bright, pale room you did the surgery in and you wrinkle your nose— but you cleaned up well enough last night, and it doesn't smell too bad. "This sink is even smaller," you tell the warden, irritated, then turn around at the creak and hiss of spraying water from behind you. "Oh, hello there." The whole basin the blue girl had been operated on is a washing sink. That's helpful. You strip your kilt off and climb in eagerly, puffing and shaking your hair as the spray douses you. It's warm! It's warm as tea and perfectly clear. Wizards are the best. "No you don't, Lawfee," you tell the warden as they attempt to sneak off. "You're covered in salt and blood and I don't know what else, come here." The Lawfee squirms and fusses like a raw apprentice as you haul them into the basin and push them under the spray. You find a bar of smooth soap and lather up— haul the big wiggler back into the basin again— and get their hair. It's long and floppy and silken where it isn't crusted together in stiff spikes, and the water runs brown and blue down their chest. You've even earned a bit of a purr by the time you finish scrubbing them down, and you pat their cold little fins with fondness before you nudge them out of the shower. Cute little monster. "Drag the blue girl in," you tell the warden, and hike a thumb downstairs. "Irrriiii? Irrreee. Her. She's a mess, she needs washing."
You don't actually notice Ur-Gar showing up for a moment, but in hindsight you probably should've seen it coming. Aaand they're actually trying to wash up in the sink? Do they not have ablution blocks wherever they're from? ...at some point you ought to figure out where, in fact, they're from. You keep an eye on the kettle as Lophii herds Ur-Gar off. Well, hopefully that won't take too long, and - your thoughts are suddenly cut off when you hear what sounds like Lophii squawking suddenly and hurry over to the block. It didn't sound like they got hurt or anything, so what would - You stop dead as you stare into the ablution block and see a very poleaxed and naked (and markely cleaner) Lophii. "Stars and stones, Lophii, you are going to tell me how exactly you ended up with a pale porn character trailing you like a baby quackfowl."
You are flushed fins to feet, and you're only saving grace is that you can blame it on the thorough scrubbing, and warm water. Iridie is boggling at you; Ur-Gar is making pleased clucking noises and fixing her with the same intent stare they had you in a moment before you were pulled into the shower with them. "Serendipity," you inform her seriously, "has a rotten sense of humor."
You pick the blue girl up— much more gently than you handled the warden— and put her down in the basin with you. It's not so hard to get her complicated wizarding outfit off, but you're reminded by the stark white of the gauze to be very careful. You set the bar of soap in her remaining hand— she should know how gently to clean herself— rummage up a magnificently carved comb from a wire rack of mystery items, and set to work combing out the tangled, bloody matts of her absurdly long mane. You coo praise and encouragement at her in a long continuous chatter of "There's a good girl" and "Not long now" and "You'll be just fine soon!". The warden is making even more squawky noises at you, which you grandly ignore. The mad creature didn't even know how to clean themself, they have no grounds to criticize.
You yelp in surprise as you are picked up and deposited in the ablution trap sans clothing. Ur-Gar promptly gifts you a bar of soap and settles behind you. "OK, nope." You try to abscond, only to be dragged back by one of Ur-Gar's giant paws. You sullenly use the soap to clean off the grime-sweat-blood mix, which actually does feel very nice. You're less sure how you feel about Ur-Gar combing your hair, but unfortunately it doesn't look like you get much choice in the matter. Since you are unable to glare at the offending party, you settle for Lophii. It helps that they're currently laughing like a matriarchal corpsebeast. "Traitor."
You don't mean to laugh at Iridie, but this whole night has definitely taken a left turn into the plot of a raunchy pale romance novel somewhere along the way and it's ridiculous. She's just a hapless casualty along the way. "C'mere, I'll make it up to ya," you say trying to snort back the rest of the giggles. There's soft, fluffy towels in one of the cabinets, and when she's finally released from Ur-Gar's overly friendly grooming, you hold one open and wrap her up in it. She's still pouting at the grin you can't seem to wipe off your face so you... you kiss her nose, and watch fading blue resurge into her cheeks. "Better?"
"...Somewhat. Your betrayal is pardoned," you say loftily. Your ears twitch as your hear a ding!ing sound from a hallway away. "Oh, I think that the pizza is done." Your stomach grumbles loudly. "OK, I'm gonna go get dressed, I'm sure I've got something I can put on onehanded." A few minutes later, you've got on some comfortably loose clothes and are digging into steaming hot pizza with gusto, and Ur-Gar is looking at the food with a look of deep suspicion.
