[OOM] Labyrinth / Krampus Plot with Eric

[fluffiest_archadian]

Mrlgh, there's - fuzz on Sherral's face. A kind of cloying, drying fuzz that clings even to dry skin.

As Sherral opens his eyes, he sees that it's woollen yarn, in bright pink and orange, from the suspiciously snug floor where he's sprawled beneath a cheerful woollen lamp with a knitted lightbulb inside.

This is not what he was expecting. A room full of yarn - a quick glance around confirms that everything seems to be either covered in or made of wool, checkered in various coloured patterns. A knitted puppet the size of a man stares at him from one of corner - is never really expected.

"Faram's balls," he growls.

Comments

[onceaviking]

"Yet, none of the things we have met here did," Eric grumbles.
"And I am hungry."

The wind has picked, whipping them with tiny shards of ice.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral arches an eyebrow, but says nothing about it.

Besides, he's more concerned with shielding his face from the ice right now, ducking behind one arm with a growl.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks back at him, grinning a little.

"Let me know when you turn into a wilting maiden," he says with barely suppressed mirth.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Hold your fantasies for the moment, we are not quite that far gone yet," Sherral replies.

[onceaviking]

They are slowly getting closer to the door, standing tall and strange in the whirling snow.

"Should it be a fantasy you would have to have been a truly comely maiden. With rosy cheeks and soft, warm breasts."

He smiles to himself.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Dryly: "Are you saying I'm not already comely?"

[onceaviking]

"Yes."
Eric is nothing if not honest. Except when he is devious.

"Though I do not know what people like where you are from. You might be thought of that way where you are from."

[fluffiest_archadian]

With great solemnity: "The comeliest, to be sure."

[onceaviking]

"That does seem a shame. Still, it matters little to me. My chief concern is what lies on the inside."

Or rather, what flows.

They are getting ever closer, but now the wind is picking up.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral snorts, arching an eyebrow.

As the wind picks up, he falters a little, then flicks two fingers, mumbling an incantation. A few sparks fly from between his fingers, but he still needs more Mist before he can cast a decent fire spell to warm himself up, and the Labyrinth is scarce in the stuff.

[onceaviking]

"I did not know that magicians could get too damp to work," Eric says, sounding amused.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Wryly: "It isn't the damp that's the problem. The magic on my world runs on a specific substance. I used up my reserves earlier, and there's barely any here for me to refuel from."

[onceaviking]

"That does sound impractical to me," Eric replies breezily. "But that is magic for you. No, give me a good sword any day."

They are definitely closer now to the door.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I have a good sword," Sherral points out.

[onceaviking]

"But then you do magic to it. I just fail to see the point."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"It still functions as a sword without magic," Sherral points out. "A very good sword, I'll note."

Unfortunately, swords are among the least effective protections against the cold.

[onceaviking]

"You do realise that your body is getting quite cold?" Eric asks, conversationally.

Of course, he doesn't really care what happens to the man. He does care about making an impression that might prove - beneficial.

That, and he can respect a good warrior.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I hadn't noticed," Sherral says dryly.

[onceaviking]

"It makes your blood sluggish," Eric adds. "That's no good."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Luckily, only one of us likes to make meaningful remarks about blood every few minutes," Sherral says.

[onceaviking]

"That is because only one of us is a vampire," Eric retorts.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral pauses.

And then bursts out laughing.

You'd have to be from Ivalice to get the joke.

[onceaviking]

"And now it has addeld your brain," Eric says, mildly.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"No, no, mark well, my brain is fine. Forgive me, I'm sure you were expecting me to be intimidated or awed," Sherral manages to get out, before bursting out laughing again.

When the laughter subsides. "Fear not, laddie, you would not get the joke."

[onceaviking]

"One would be well advised to remember that folk encountered here may differ vastly from one's own world," Eric replies. Blandly.

And then they reach the door.

It's big. Heavy. And locked.