[ console | video/action ] we get to carry each other

[edgeoftheknife]

[Hello folks, it's your friendly neighborhood gorgeous janitor. Except he's not looking so friendly, today. In fact, he's looking more serious than most people have probably ever seen him, here in Keeliai. When he speaks it's with a gravity that his words normally lack.]

Anton Shudder is no longer in charge of the Midnight Hotel.

I'm taking over.

[There's a pause, while he lets that sink in.]

Since Shudder has proven himself incapable of the running of the Hotel--or indeed, simple things like standing and walking, I find myself forced to keep him confined to a comfortable chair in front of the fire. With tea. And yarn.

He knits, did you know he knits?

[It should be noted that while the tone of the video has become decidedly less serious, Ravel's face has not.]

At any rate, I'll be taking over the day-to-day operations of the Hotel for the time being. Matters such as employment and pay will still go through Anton, obviously. Day-to-day functions should come to me, instead. Any present staff are encouraged to pitch in as you're able--God only knows you don't want me doing the cooking. Not unless the lot of you fancy grilled cheese or cold cereal.

[He pauses]

Was that it? Yes, I think that was it. Er. Carry on.

Comments

[gistful]

Sometime in the last century, I think.

[He leans into the pillow of air and closes his eyes. He does feel old, and like Erskine, he's not sure when it happened.]

What does it say about us, that we're youngest in war?

[edgeoftheknife]

Probably something deep and psychological and not very flattering. Which is why I'm going to ignore it.

[He straightens up, rolling his left shoulder tentatively, and nods]

Right then, let's try this again, shall we?

[And to most people it's going to look like they're just taking a casual stroll, although Erskine still has his right hand held out at waist level toward Anton.]

[gistful]

[It helps. It's less galling than Anton's resistance would indicate, but it still irks him that he needs the help at all, that his knees shake and his vision does a slow white burn. When they reach the door to his bedroom he grips it to steady himself on something more solid than air, and then continues the rest of the way to the bed.

[He doesn't want to admit how relieved he is, to sit down again, lean his elbows on his knees and put his head down to breathe for a minute.]

[edgeoftheknife]

[Erskine's not having quite as rough a time anymore, now that he's been relieved of physically hauling all six feet six inches of stupidly large Anton on his shoulders. Still, he sinks down into a chair nearby and unconsciously mimics Anton's posture, minus hanging his head. He just watches Anton for a moment, to make sure the other man's not going to pass out.]

Raine should be here shortly, I would imagine. You want to explain what sort of "discrepancy" we're talking about here, or shall I wait and ask her?

[gistful]

[After a moment, Anton lifts his head.]

Some areas of my nervous system aren't functioning as well as they should. They've been damaged somehow, in minor ways.

[edgeoftheknife]

[He doesn't say anything right away, considering this information that's really not much more than he'd had to go on a little while ago.]

And it's not related to the gist?

[gistful]

No. The gist has hidden the effects with similar symptoms, probably allayed the condition over the years, but it isn't causing them.

[edgeoftheknife]

But the healers can't figure out what it is.

[He scrubs a hand down his face, scratches at his jawline.]

What I wouldn't give for our magic-science division right now, you know?

[gistful]

They would be useful if we had them, but as we don't ...

[Anton shrugs and lowers himself onto his bed, clasping his hands over his chest. There isn't much for them to do but wait until Raine arrives.]