[PRP] A Sound Idea (Eli/Ollie/Horace)

[saedusk]

Like Horace, surprise hit Eli like a jolt, his expression twisting into a grimace. If there was one thing undeniably important to Ollie, it was his hands. Why in the world would he choose to be so rough with one, to cut it so it might scar? He took the x-acto from Horace without saying a word, but there was a notable whorl in his gut.

He tried to push it away, because if he'd learned anything, it was that there was no room for doubt in magic.

"It's... pretty simple, hm?" he said, though it wasn't quite a question and he wasn't expecting an answer. Like the others, he used the knife to slice his palm and tiny tears welled in the corners of his eyes. It ******** hurt. ******** magic and its voodoo blood obsession.

Pressing his hand to the sigil on the box, he tried to do exactly what they'd described. He thought about the way their idea would work, about how they'd use resonance, something they could all understand at least casually, to eliminate the charter from existence. He willed their work to make the box good enough for that, to make it strong enough to both destroy and keep destruction under control.

Boy, Eli sure hoped he was doing this right.

The Semblance of Unity

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Evidentally they were doing something right, because as Elliot's blood was added the sigil seemed to hum--glow--the blood smeared about it exhumed into the focal points of the mark. Oliver allowed his eyes to open then, and he watched with an increasingly pale face. He swallowed again like he was trying to keep from throwing up.

Instead he focused on the qualia of their magic. Neither of them were unpleasant--maybe a touch overwhelming--but they were both casting so why wouldn't it? Elliot's was... dry, like how Oliver imagined the taste of wine despite never drinking it, the warmth and flush that crept into ones tipsy cheeks and he thought how fitting; except it was comforting too, in the sense that it drove the chill from his bones and smelled like ancient wassail. Horace's magic was a bit more difficult to parse, if only because it felt like rain but didn't smell like it. No, it smelled like thunderstorms, tasted like black clouds rolling in on the horizon, voluminous and full and ephemeral.

He sighed.

"That's... that, I suppose. Only one way to see if it worked." He took a deep breath in sharp contrast to the little shallow ones that were starting to hiccup up, "We feed our magic into this box, and if all goes- well--"

There was still blood welling up between the fingers of his now closed fist, knuckles white as he refused to open and acknowledge the gash there.

"S-Sorry, you get the picture." God this is gross, gross, gross, gross-- "I-I don't know why I'm having such a time with this, we did alright in the void." Then again he didn't cut nearly as deep, stupid Oliver. "We're in the Otherworld, it can be healed." But that didn't stop his hands from shaking.

saedusk

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace looked up to see... were those tears at the corner of Eli's eyes? He frowned, the sigil glowing. And then... it was done. Or so he hoped. Horace raised his hand and shook it, the cut on his palm burning fiercely.

"Are you guys okay?" They weren't. He didn't particularly care about his own hand, but he cared about the both of them. "Might be heal-able, but I'm no magic healer. Let me see your hands - both of you." He reached over and tapped both Elliot and Oliver's hands. If they showed him, he'd get a better idea of it they needed stitches or not, simply because of his experience in recent events.

You're okay, Ollie, you're okay - we did good.
Eli, did you cut too deep?

Worry tinged his thoughts and he was so preoccupied with their hands that he forgot to think out loud.

saedusk

melancholies

 

[saedusk]

It was working. If nothing else, it was working, or looked to be, and that washed relief through each and every nerve. If all of this had been for nothing, Eli couldn't imagine how much harder this struggle would be.

"I'm alright," he huffed, but his hand felt stiff and foreign as he pulled it away from the box and immediately surrendered it to Horace. The sensation wasn't wholly unfamiliar, though. When he was younger, a social slave to the expectations of parents and peers alike, he could remember a feeling like this, an awful sort of fire under his skin. He shook his head and huffed a second time, but it sounded tired. "Mine's really not that bad. It's not that deep..."

He had to compose himself.

Carefully—he didn't want to ruin all their hard work, after all—Eli pushed the box away from the three of them. It made room enough that he could shift closer to Ollie, could set his uninjured hand at his shoulder and smooth it slowly over his back.

"Breathe," he urged, "It'll be alright." Even so, his chest was tight with worry, too, because he hated to see Ollie like this. Despite the fact that Horace was trying to examine him, he curled his fingers in to touch whatever bit of Horace's hand he could manage. The movement made his palm sting, but it was grounding nonetheless, it was comforting.

"I'm alright..." This time it sounded more like he meant it.

The Semblance of Unity

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." Except he was totally rocking back and forth as he cradled his hand. Horace had tapped it and he jerked it into his lap, evidently reluctant to give it up. "I'm fine, we made the box," He was watching the box, "Good job everybody."

It was only after the relaxing hand at his back that he started to unfurl himself, his injured hand held out hesitantly while he held it at the wrist with his still-good one, though his fingers were still curled determinedly into a fist. Blood was starting to dry between his digits, though it still looked wet and shiny underneath his nails. The gash itself was fairly deep; it was hard to say if it'd require stitches or not.

"Don't touch it..." He wheezed pathetically, "It feels—I can feel my skin sliding against each other, it's so gross." He still looked like he wanted to throw up, but he had it marginally more under control. "Y-You don't... you don't need healing spells—really—when you're in the Otherworld. H-Having the aptitude helps of course, but here—there's so much magic—you can do anything." He sucked in a ragged breath as he rambled, "Anything. It would've been harder to preform what we did on our side. You understand what I mean right? How it's so much easier to breathe over here?"

He shook his head, "We did good..."

saedusk

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace's fingers stroked Eli's hand lightly, circling around his wrist. "Don't move it too much, okay?" If magic would kiss it better, Horace would have puckered up in a heartbeat and french kissed the ******** out of their palms, tongue and all. Perhaps it was a blessing that he knew that approach would not work.

"Olliebee, you gotta open your hand before I can do anything." They could do anything. Horace pried open one finger, his own palm hurting. His uninjured hand still curled around Eli's, his fingers stroking his wrist. "Ellie, help me?" How was he supposed to... He breathed deeply, thinking of how his own wounds had healed and trying to imagine that on Oliver's palm, faster. Seamlessly.

saedusk

melancholies

 

[saedusk]

Could they really do anything? It was a question Eli hadn't stopped asking himself since he'd learned of this ability. As they crafted their sigil and empowered the box, he managed to force the query away so he could focus, so he wouldn't ******** everyone else up. Now that they succeeded, it was back. And yet...

"Okay," he mumbled, shifting again, pulling his hand away from Ollie's back. Horace's touch smoothed more comfort into his skin like a warm reassurance. It was enough that he felt he could believe the answer to his question was yes.

"C'mon, Ollie..." As gently as he could manage versus the resistance, he helped pry Oliver's hand open by the rest of his fingers. Hopefully it would give Horace's injury a break. The cut was definitely angry looking, but Eli tried to imagine what his palm was supposed to look like, how soft and smooth and well cared for his hands had been.

Seamlessly was a good word for it. Eli imagined Ollie's hand healing—the injury, the blood, everything back to the way it had been—and willed it to happen. It would happen.

The Semblance of Unity

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Seamless it was; the magic seemed to swirl around his now open palm, the inside of the cut still wet and shiny. It was hard to tell underneath the blood, but the skin seemed to mesh back together, and despite the fact it was healing it was still making Oliver's face contort in a variety of ways. The sensation was undeniably foreign.

He let a breath out when it was done, his posture trembling a little, and the first thing he decided to harp on was "Olliebee...?" And then he laughed a little as he looked at the trio of them. They were a hot mess of blood and hand holding and ritualistic magic. They all had every intention of rewriting the laws of the Otherworld, of severing off an innocent girl's arm, of all sorts of other crunchy bullshit, but here they were. It was funny.

"You guys are silly." It sounded warm. It sounded tired. It was mostly tired. He freed the once-injured hand from both of their grasps and flexed it; no problem here. "That settles it." He held both his hands out to both of them, "C'mere, you guys need it too." He gave Elliot a sympathetic look because of the tears he saw welled in his eyes, though Horace got a b***h try and argue with me sort of expression. He hadn't forgotten the tonfa incident. He likely never would.

saedusk

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"It's cute," he said defensively. But then he relaxed into a smile. It had worked, Oliver's hand was good.

"Do Eli first - I'll help. He needs it more." Yes, he saw that look, and no, he didn't care, Oliver. Plus, everyone was wearing out quickly. If they got at least Elliot healed, that would be fine. He pulled Elliot's injured hand closer to Oliver.

Don't move it, sunshine.

saedusk

melacholies

 

[saedusk]

There wasn't any fight on Eli's part. No, he let his hand be led toward Oliver and maybe it was weak and maybe he was too squishy for this, but he sure was ready to be healed and be done with this god awful sting. "You'll be next, Horace," he mentioned, no more willing to leave him to suffer, either. They all deserved to feel better after how well they'd done in making their tool.

With a small, light laugh of sorts, he said, "Hit me with your best shot."

The Semblance of Unity

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Of course Horace is gonna be next. C'mon." He ran his fingertips softly over the gash, the touch more like a ghost; he didn't want to agitate the wound any further than he had. Healing wasn't a talent he'd discovered, but necromancy had to be in the same ball park, right? He took a deep breath.

"Both of your magic was very delicate," He told them as he focused, "I really liked it... it's... strange how tangible magic can feel..." His hands were sensitive, be it raccoon or human.

saedusk

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"We've... we've done a lot of magic stuff today. So if you guys are feeling any kind of strain, please leave me." He concentrated on Elliot's palm, his fingers still pressed against his wrist. The pulse there beat steadily, a stable base to work magic off of, he thought.

When he opened his eyes again, he ghosted his fingers along Elliot's palm, brushing against Oliver's. "Feel okay?" Then he glanced over at Ollie. "I.. don't think I can feel magic. It just feels like the body heat of someone standing nearby. What does it feel like to you?"

saedusk

melancholies

 

[saedusk]

The smooth, steady press of his skin back together was an undeniably weird feeling. There weren't words in his vocabulary to describe it. "I feel... just fine." The pain was instantly gone, leaving only the memory of it behind. That, and the gentle touch of both Ollie and Horace's hands.

"I don't think so," he said then, claiming Horace's injured hand before he could argue without fear of shock, though he kept it where Ollie could easily reach, too. "I'm tired, but I'm not that tired. I can still get this done." He was already focusing, after all, the very same way he had when they'd taken care of Ollie's hand. "I don't really feel anything, either," he admitted quietly, like a whisper, "Nothing specific, anyway."

The Semblance of Unity

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Yup, we're all in this, right? Don't try to act tough." He snorted as he tentatively joined Elliot, his hand bloody but healed. "We're all tired. We can all crash when you're healed up too."

He took a deep breath. "It's as much of a blessing as a curse." Oliver's hand bumped against Elliot's on accident, "I can sense things other people can't, but it's really quite overwhelming at times, you know? But I'm getting better at controlling it..."

After focusing, he bapped his finger down into Horace's palm. "Better?" He looked undeniably more exhausted than when they began, the circles under his eyes more pronounced.

saedusk

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace still tried to pull away a bit; he didn't want them to spend their energy on him when they were already so low. But they were persistent and he let them wind their magic into his palm. It was soothing in the way that having someone play with his hair used to be. It made him sleepy.

"Better. You've got 'coon circles, Ollie. I think we all need a nap..." You, too, sunshine/

saedusk

melancholies