(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is curled up, sleeping lightly, on one of the couches, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them.

There are tear tracks on his face, shed while dreaming, and the remains of a bowl of beef stew on the table by the couch. He looks a little better than he did, though clearly still not back to full health.

Someone might wake him and send him back to his own bed.

Comments

[penderwydd]

Or place a cloak over him and watch to make sure he is safe, as Tegid does.

[athelstanthescribe]

The sleep is sorely needed, and he turns into the warmth of the cloak without waking.

[penderwydd]

Tegid set about to tuning his harp in a nearby chair. When Athelstan wakes, he will speak with him.

He plucks a string here and string there, on the harp made by god Govanen, and he turns the tightening pegs with an antler key with wonderful scroll work carved into the bone. It is quick work in the hands of a master, and soon the air is filled with the sound of the harp, though, he refrains from singing tonight.

[athelstanthescribe]

The music, eventually, eases him back into waking. He makes a small protesting sound as his stiff back makes itself felt.

[penderwydd]

Tegid continues to play the tune, and when the last vibrations of the strings cease he looks to Athelstan.

"You do not look well, friend," he says with concern on his face. He has not seen Athelstan since before the renewing of Albion, and is much changed. His face is not free of the scars from his blinding, and his hands the scars from the dreams.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I have not been." He focuses on Tegid's face. "But will be again in body, which is more than others can say."

[penderwydd]

Tegid sits across from him on the low table and without asking puts a hand to Athelstans forehead.

[lt_blade]

Sonya couldn't argue over someone choosing to sleep on the sofa-she's done it a few times herself in the bar. Even so, out of principle, she'd rather him sleep someplace a little more comfortable, and maybe where his tear tracks won't get so much attention.

Kneeling down, she gave his shoulder a soft shake. "Hey, buddy..wake up. Can't get a proper rest here." She'd know, she'd tried before.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Gyda?" he murmurs, half awake, then he opens his eyes. "...Sonya. I didn't mean to..."

[lt_blade]

She smiled. "You were dreaming of her." Wishful thinking most likely. Her death would've been hard on all of them. "I don't blame you for confusion."

Though he would've had to have been sleeping pretty deeply to confuse her for a 12 year old girl. "You need to sleep in a proper bed though."

[athelstanthescribe]

He hadn't been looking at her, and the words she spoke came in a different voice in the dream.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep here either." He tries to push himself back up into sitting.

[lt_blade]

Sonya carefully reached to support him into a sitting position. His flu was more aggressive than hers and she didn't want him getting dizzy. "Sure you didn't." A look at the half eaten stew was enough to confirm that. "Come on, you need sleep, you can use my room."

He kept her company a few times already, when she had trouble sleeping. His dreams weren't bad, but she couldn't imagine they were fun to wake up from. He would've needed company right now.

[athelstanthescribe]

He looks as if he might balk, but then he thinks of the cot in Olivier's room and changes his mind.

"Your bed is more comfortable than mine. Thank you."

[onceaviking]

He smells nice.

Eric pauses briefly as he passes by, taking a deep breath.

So fucking good.

[athelstanthescribe]

The footsteps passing and stopping are enough to make him stir, as he was already only in the shallowest sleep. He opens his eyes.

"...hello, Eric", a little fuddled.

[onceaviking]

"Hello Athelstan," Eric says and settles down next to him. Lounging.

[athelstanthescribe]

There's already space, since he wasn't stretching out, so he doesn't move to make more.

"How are you?"

[onceaviking]

Eric is a big man and he somehow always manages to take up all available space.

"I'm fine. You look like shit though."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Yes, well." He shrugs slightly. "I was ill. It's over, just the recovery now."

[capture_eternity]

Athelstan looks awful, Dorian thinks when he comes over to the fire with a tray containing food, drink and a small electronic device.

He puts it down and peers at the former monk. That can't be comfortable.

He crouches down beside the couch, and lightly shakes Athelstan by the shoulder.

[athelstanthescribe]

He twitches and mutters something in his sleep, then slowly his eyes open.

"...Dorian?"

[capture_eternity]

"Athelstan!" Dorian says. "You look awful. Are you sick?"

He leans in, worried; sickness doesn't faze him, after all.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I have been. It's passing - the fever broke days ago and hasn't returned."

He doesn't think he's infectious any more, so he doesn't stop Dorian leaning in.

[capture_eternity]

"Did you think you were somebody else while you were sick?" Dorian says.

Apparently, that's something that happens here at times, and may have happened again lately.

[athelstanthescribe]

"No." He shakes his head. "It was a quite ordinary illness."