Tristan Étienne Gascoigne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aftokaiafto) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gooseberryhigh2017-11-06 05:23 pm
aftokaiafto) wrote in gooseberryhigh2017-11-06 05:23 pm
Entry tags:
♫♪THIS CABIN'S ON FI-YAAAAAAAAH ♪♫
Tristan was of the opinion that if people were meant to live in cold climates, then they'd have come equipped with fur coats, a thick layer of fat, and the ability to hibernate through winter; since he only had precisely none of those evolutionary marvels to his name, he could only assume that northerners were some species of weird quasi-mutant or that even the no-majes had Warming Charms stitched into their clothes.
But the point is--
The point is that he really has no point.
He's been cold since he left Georgia; it's the kind of cold that heating spells can't really banish, once it sets in. Ironically, the warm glow of embarrassment did nigh-on jackshit to really dispel that chill either. And neither of those things had any bearing on his skipping dinner to not-sulk in his cabin without any witnesses.
"But it's fucking cold," he said to the ceiling, sprawled out on his back across the floor. He lifted his legs into the air, first one and then the other, then both, pointing his toes at the center beam before curling his legs against his chest and rolling onto his side. What lunatic thought Utah was inhabitable in the winter?
"...do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?" he mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against his shins. "It will be Spring soon and the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thickets. And they will be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields, and eating the first of the strawberries and cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"
He rolled onto his back once more, casting a tragic gaze at the ceiling.
"No Sam," he rasped. "I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water or the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark. There's nothing, no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes!"
"Then let us be rid of it once and for all!" he cried, wobbling to his knees. "Come on, Mr. Frodo-- I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you! Come on!"
Tristan dropped down onto his elbows, whispering a quick "incendio" and flicking his wand at the fireplace. A flame immediately burst into life, bright and crackling merrily. He stared at the fire for a moment, chin propped on his palm. "...Frodo!"
He rocked back onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet. With a dramatic flourish, he hung onto Calvin's bedpost as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. "I'm here, Sam."
Tristan turned back to the fire with desperation. "Destroy it!"
He paused for a long moment, slowly lifting his arm to stare at the wand in his hand.
"Go on! Now! Throw it in the--FUCK."
The fireplace belched out a heavy cloud of choking smoke, enveloping the cabin's interior almost immediately.
But the point is--
The point is that he really has no point.
He's been cold since he left Georgia; it's the kind of cold that heating spells can't really banish, once it sets in. Ironically, the warm glow of embarrassment did nigh-on jackshit to really dispel that chill either. And neither of those things had any bearing on his skipping dinner to not-sulk in his cabin without any witnesses.
"But it's fucking cold," he said to the ceiling, sprawled out on his back across the floor. He lifted his legs into the air, first one and then the other, then both, pointing his toes at the center beam before curling his legs against his chest and rolling onto his side. What lunatic thought Utah was inhabitable in the winter?
"...do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?" he mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against his shins. "It will be Spring soon and the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thickets. And they will be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields, and eating the first of the strawberries and cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"
He rolled onto his back once more, casting a tragic gaze at the ceiling.
"No Sam," he rasped. "I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water or the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark. There's nothing, no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes!"
"Then let us be rid of it once and for all!" he cried, wobbling to his knees. "Come on, Mr. Frodo-- I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you! Come on!"
Tristan dropped down onto his elbows, whispering a quick "incendio" and flicking his wand at the fireplace. A flame immediately burst into life, bright and crackling merrily. He stared at the fire for a moment, chin propped on his palm. "...Frodo!"
He rocked back onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet. With a dramatic flourish, he hung onto Calvin's bedpost as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. "I'm here, Sam."
Tristan turned back to the fire with desperation. "Destroy it!"
He paused for a long moment, slowly lifting his arm to stare at the wand in his hand.
"Go on! Now! Throw it in the--FUCK."
The fireplace belched out a heavy cloud of choking smoke, enveloping the cabin's interior almost immediately.
no subject
So maybe the shouts weren't enough to wholly distract him from his thoughts. Either way, nothing could prepare him for the smoke that pours out of the cabin when he opens the door. "Bloody hell!" He goes for his wand immediately, and hopefully Tristan's not in the path of the Aguamenti Calvin has ready for the fireplace.
no subject
...And anything else that's light enough to be moved by a breeze that hasn't been weighed down. But it's probably better than breathing that stuff in or letting the smoke get into everything? Maybe?
*walks in 13 days late with sbux*
"...hey," he says hoarsely, lifting a hand in greeting. The smoking remnants in the fireplace take this opportunity to settle, exhaling another cloud of smoke. Something in the chimney shifts with a loud crack and a massive pile of...stuff falls, spraying Tristan's back with bits of pine cone, straw, and the odd nut. He closes his eyes, can feel where his jaw is going to ache tomorrow from him clenching his teeth so hard.
"I'm gonna--" he begins, getting to his feet. He flicks his wand at the puddle around him, banishing it with a Tergeo charm. "Clean this up, right, sorry--"