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@wakeuppizzaboy
"….Where the FUCK am I."
the peer pressure peer pressured. blog made to match with @c00lbug and @t3lam0n parody account for the elliot of this au! the rest of the au was made by (@chaotic-conquest) and (@3m1lth34rt1st). only i (@seakittypups) am in charge of elliot's lore though ^_^
this askblog in particular is only run by @seakittypups shamelessly ripping off emil below:
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon squirms under Elliot’s gaze, trying to shrink and hide under wings that aren’t there, headwings curling to hide his face as the pizza boy stares on in what must be disgust, that such a powerful being couldn’t hold his own! He must think Telamon revolting, he must! Surely he was rushing out to spread the word!
Surely! Surely he must think the worst of Telamon! How could he not, when Telamon came to him in such a state! How could he not!
Telamon isn’t sure, exactly, when he started moving along with Elliot’s suggestion- though, he ended up pulling off his vest to try to stem the bleeding instead- it would be a shame to stain his cloak with ichor- he actually liked his cloak! It was a nice cloak! Hid him very well! It was shadowy and warm and he had worked on the golden embellishments for longer than he would ever admit to anyone- really, he had worked on the whole cloak for longer than he would ever admit, but-
He wraps his vest around himself and lets himself get lost in a circle of thoughts of things that did not pertain to the situation at hand, and he half-curls himself into a corner of the cabin to wait for Elliot to get back.
Elliot slid back in through the doorway, wavering a bit as he caught his balance. ...Huh. He... couldn't find Telamon? Which is truthfully shocking considering how obvious the bird makes himself out to be. Where on earth could he have gone..? He set down the medkit, gently calling out the other's name while looking around the cabin cautiously. As he was searching, a glimpse of golden caught his eye in corner. He turned around to inspect it further, only to find.. "A FURBY!!!" He squealed excitedly, rushing over and picking up the 'furby' with child-like joy shining in his eyes. He began inspecting it closely, muttering rapidly to himself before spotting the now matching pools of blood pouring out the sides of the 'furby' and nervously clearing his throat. "..Er. Telamon. I can tell that's you. ....Sorry about that. Even if it's not my fault you were probably trying to scare me, asshole.." He released his grip and let Telamon plop onto the ground, getting the medkit and skating back over. "If you don't mind, can you please not be a furby? I can't exactly fix you up right if you stay like that." He coughed, refusing to make eye contact. ...This is embarassing.
Telamon falls onto and remains on the ground, wriggling to try and kick himself upright before relenting and shifting his form with a half-fluid motion, from furby to harpy to shoving himself up on the arms of a not-quite robloxian (with, for a second, too-many-eyes) and staring up at Elliot, stunned at the brief display of enthusiasm from the typically irritable pizza boy.
He blinks, far slower than is strictly necessary, and shifts to sit up, legs tucked close to his chest and tail swaying- the rarely spotted thing peeking out of his gown. He lets himself lean forward a bit, letting curiosity onto his face in place of his typical smug grin- as if he could manage the damn smile at all in the moment. Even if he could, it wouldn't be believable.
He folds his arms onto his knees and settles his head onto them, peering up at Elliot with silent attention and making a small gesture for him to continue, chirping,
"Telamon was intending to spook you- just a teensy bit!- with his little stunt, but now he's rather intrigued by your knowledge. Do share? He'd rather not the room be silent."
Elliot shifted uncomfortably, put off by Telamon's sudden interest in his embarrassing display of child-like joy. "I... uh.." He started, and then looked away, ignoring the questions and instead heading straight towards the medkit he had left on the floor in his search for the bird-man. "...I'll answer that later. For right now, your health is the top priority. Regardless of your 'godly status', that bleeding needs to be treated. No ifs, ands, or buts." He sharply spoke, digging inside the first-aid kit for the larger gauze bandages he packed in scenarios like these. ..As he looked over, he winced as he remembered just how bad the wing wounds were. "...Speaking of which, you're going to have to take that dress off-- at least partially. I need to bandage it properly for it to actually do anything, and the clothes would cause problems." His words were said rather simply, eyes scanning the kit again before he walked over and inspected the wing wounds closely. He rolled a little bit of the bandage out and compared it to the comedically large wound to gauge how much he would need before rolling it back up, tail flicking in thought.
Telamon hums absently, the pitch betraying its disappointment at Elliot's avoidance of the request- but it couldn't complain- it hadn't expected Elliot to share, not really- though it had truly been intrigued, even beyond the purpose of noise to distract itself from the situation at hand- it was nice to know more about forms it enjoyed taking! Made them more effective!
It pouts at the turn-back to the lingering wounds, the burnt-sugar smell in the air seeming to intensify as it's brought to attention. Sparks dance along the smoke billowing from its tail, threatening to catch, like its daring Telamon to burn itself up at just the thought of allowing itself to be helped. (Not that that's in the cards in the first place, but it's tempting to try.)
..but! Telamon perks up with barely-contained excitement as it spots a shining opportunity for messing with the pizza boy, smile turning insufferably smug as it trills,
"Wooow, Elliot! You're so forward!!! You haven't even taken Telamon out to dinner, how scandalous!!!!!!"
.....and then promptly shuts its mouth and removes its halter without further hassle. It can't die, but bleeding out still isn't exactly fun to Telamon- and, frankly? It can't stand the sweet scent in the air.
His gaze shifted over to the slightly flickering flames attempting to rise, noting to himself to be extra cautious when approaching. ..He wasn't quite sure what got such a rise out of Telamon, but he didn't want to test it. As much as he hardly knew much about it's abilities-- largely due to not particularly being religious (also causing him the inability to view the strange man as a proper deity)--, he knew it had power that was not to be tampered with. As Telamon talked, Elliot snorted, face subconsciously hardening at the tease from Telamon as he prepared to wrap the bandage roll around the patches of blood. The strong stench of burnt sugar certainly wasn't helping keep away the displeased expression. "You know VERY well what I meant-- ugh. You sound just like Chance. And I don't mean that as a compliment." He sighed, then honing in on his work. "You'd think someone would treat the person patching up where their limbs are actively missing with more respect..." He muttered, then gently leaning down for a small pair of scissors to try and trim away excess. "There. Feel all better now, Mr. Big Bird?" He half-joked, stepping away and reorganizing his tools. "In all seriousness, though. Stop by if it ever needs redressing or anything." He ordered, then pausing as he remembered something from earlier in the conversation. "...Or if you need to talk, I suppose. I assume it'd hurt your already fragile ego to even suggest the idea of 7n7 having ripped off your wings to anyone else." He commented. His tone was almost sarcastic, but there was a small hint of truth; he didn't mind if the vague deity actually needed to do as such, but he had his doubts on if the Robloxian would take his words into consideration.
His tail, tucked over his lap, threatens to catch ablaze a few more times as his wounds were bandaged up, but each time it sputters out before anything can properly burn. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else as Elliot works but is... relatively cooperative! What a shock! He probably just wants to be over with needing help, given the kind of stubborn he is.
Its face scrunches up with disdain as Chance is mentioned, sticking out its tongue at being compared to the shark. Despite its apparently cooperative mood, it's still Telamon, so it huffs,
"So cruel to Telamon! Cruel and unusual, to compare it to them!!!"
As Elliot finishes up, Telamon.. immediately begins to pick at the bandages, uncomfortable, far too aware of how they pressed against it!!! It makes a show of using its free hand to physically pull away the one that's starting to pick, and instead place it on its dress, which it begins hastily putting back on. There's nothing to see, but it's still a degree of vulnerable that it'd rather be in for as little time as possible.
"...this sucks! But it's! ...better than bleeding out, he supposes."
He stops and stares, visibly rolling Elliot's offer to talk about what happened around in his head before he reaches out for his cloak, pulling it over his shoulders to cover the open back before chirping, as cheery as he can possibly make himself,
"The offer is... appreciated, but there's nothing to talk about! Telamon was caught off guard, that's it! He'll come by when necessary, though!"
....of course. It's Telamon, after all.
Elliot’s tail flicked in thought, squinting at Telamon as he pondered to himself about the possible circumstances that would’ve led the bird to be ‘caught off guard’. He knew all too well the strange ‘bond’ 7n7 and Telamon had— it’s hard to ignore whenever they drag you along some stupid journey for some weird swords, yet you only wanted to deliver a pizza— and had a difficult time imagining why the bug would hurt him in particular.
“I’m having a really hard time believing that, you know. You aren’t the type of guy to just.. let that happen. You have more power than anyone’s dreamed of, yet you… Didn’t use it to stop 7n7? At all?” He pressed, his tail starting to lash slightly.
He then gestured vaguely to the general area of the now covered wounds, locking his gaze back onto Telamon as he continued. “You let him rip off your wings, for crying out loud! That isn’t anything you just… sit back and watch for! What happened out there?” He questioned— almost angrily, before forcing himself to relax.
He should know better than to ask about that. He could easily see that it was a sensitive subject, but.. He couldn’t understand. And, unfortunately, out of all the personality traits he’s ever had, his curiosity will stay strong until the day the man keels over dead.
“…I apologize, Telamon, but.. this isn’t a regular occurrence in any sense of the word. I’d let it go if it were a more minor injury, but…” His words trickled off as he fumbled to try and figure out an appropriate response. “… You know what I mean. Whatever.”
Deep down, he knew that his chances of getting an actual mature response was low— but he was persistent enough that if need be, he’d absolutely keep poking the bear. He’d poke it until it mauls him to near death, if he had to.
Telamon shrinks back, just slightly, feathers puffing up and headwings flaring out. She picks herself up, sneering down at Elliot as sparks dance across her smoke- one of the smaller, defensive ones she pulled whenever she was trying not to show something she doesn't realize she's already made painfully obvious. She's quick to burst into bright red-and-gold flames, sparks winning out against smoke.
"It hardly concerns you! Telamon hesitated- she froze up, you need nothing more than that!"
Aer shoulders are held high with tension, feathers along aer arms flared out in a lackluster attempt to make aerself bigger without aer wings. It.. doesn't work very well, aer efforts feeling empty without them.
"Is it so very unbelievable, to think ae- to just-"
It gives up quickly, headwings smacking into its face and being pinned there by its hands as it cuts off its clumsy defense of itself with a furious, wordless shriek, buried in talons and feathers and lasting just a little too long- did it need to breathe?? Could it have just kept going? Either way, it hisses little more than a moment after,
"Just quit looking! Let it go, it doesn't matter. Telamon will be fine, it won't happen again."
As the flames burst alive under Telamon’s dress just mere inches from Elliot he silently backed himself up against the nearest wall, shoulders stiffening as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He stared at the fire for a good few minutes, breath briefly quickening before the man forced himself to relax, straightening his posture as he shifted his gaze towards the covered face of Telamon. As long as the fire is out of sight, it’s out of his mind.
He thought carefully about Telamon’s words, mulling over how to handle the bird-man’s outburst. "To say it hardly concerns me would be an understatement. Regardless of my place in the matter, 007n7 is technically our teammate. He could potientially pose a great danger to not only you, but me and the rest of the killers-- and the survivors, but it's not like they don't die on the regular anyway-- if he is able to pull off a stunt like that." He began cautiously, watching Telamon's body language as he continued. "...And unfortunately, yes. It is pretty unbelievable. This isn't something you nor I hear about every day. I'm not letting go until I at least get answers about some part of what happened." He sharply stated, then silently shifting his eyes to some other part of the room out of respect for the bird's request-- if he could even call it that. "As for you being 'fine', none of this is showing me that you are or will be fine. Physically, yes, but mentally? I think it'd be preeetty bad if one of the most major gods across Robloxia has shitty mental health because he refused to acknowledge one of-- if not, THE only-- time he's gotten this severely injured." Elliot... truthfully couldn't care less about the god aspects of Telamon nor the religion surrounding aer, but the former delivery boy figured it would be the best way to try and get the concept across to the stubborn deity. "That being said, I'm not keeping you here. You can go ahead and walk right out that cabin door. But I won't just 'let this go' that easily, and my cabin is always open if you need to visit and talk." He spoke, voice as steady as he could possibly manage. Anything showing how upset he was from the fire is the last thing he needs in this situation; he needs to show the other that he is, in fact, capable of dealing with xyr nonsense.
favorite & least favorite survivor
He paused, humming to himself.
“…Well, my favorite would have to be Mia, but.. I can’t think of a least favorite. They’re.. mostly all the same. If they don’t get in my way, I don’t get in theirs.”
He sighed, then rubbing a hand behind his neck. “As for the other killers, I guess Noob is alright…” He slightly stiffened, voice deadpan as he continued. “..and Chance is my least favorite.”
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon squirms under Elliot’s gaze, trying to shrink and hide under wings that aren’t there, headwings curling to hide his face as the pizza boy stares on in what must be disgust, that such a powerful being couldn’t hold his own! He must think Telamon revolting, he must! Surely he was rushing out to spread the word!
Surely! Surely he must think the worst of Telamon! How could he not, when Telamon came to him in such a state! How could he not!
Telamon isn’t sure, exactly, when he started moving along with Elliot’s suggestion- though, he ended up pulling off his vest to try to stem the bleeding instead- it would be a shame to stain his cloak with ichor- he actually liked his cloak! It was a nice cloak! Hid him very well! It was shadowy and warm and he had worked on the golden embellishments for longer than he would ever admit to anyone- really, he had worked on the whole cloak for longer than he would ever admit, but-
He wraps his vest around himself and lets himself get lost in a circle of thoughts of things that did not pertain to the situation at hand, and he half-curls himself into a corner of the cabin to wait for Elliot to get back.
Elliot slid back in through the doorway, wavering a bit as he caught his balance. ...Huh. He... couldn't find Telamon? Which is truthfully shocking considering how obvious the bird makes himself out to be. Where on earth could he have gone..? He set down the medkit, gently calling out the other's name while looking around the cabin cautiously. As he was searching, a glimpse of golden caught his eye in corner. He turned around to inspect it further, only to find.. "A FURBY!!!" He squealed excitedly, rushing over and picking up the 'furby' with child-like joy shining in his eyes. He began inspecting it closely, muttering rapidly to himself before spotting the now matching pools of blood pouring out the sides of the 'furby' and nervously clearing his throat. "..Er. Telamon. I can tell that's you. ....Sorry about that. Even if it's not my fault you were probably trying to scare me, asshole.." He released his grip and let Telamon plop onto the ground, getting the medkit and skating back over. "If you don't mind, can you please not be a furby? I can't exactly fix you up right if you stay like that." He coughed, refusing to make eye contact. ...This is embarassing.
Telamon falls onto and remains on the ground, wriggling to try and kick himself upright before relenting and shifting his form with a half-fluid motion, from furby to harpy to shoving himself up on the arms of a not-quite robloxian (with, for a second, too-many-eyes) and staring up at Elliot, stunned at the brief display of enthusiasm from the typically irritable pizza boy.
He blinks, far slower than is strictly necessary, and shifts to sit up, legs tucked close to his chest and tail swaying- the rarely spotted thing peeking out of his gown. He lets himself lean forward a bit, letting curiosity onto his face in place of his typical smug grin- as if he could manage the damn smile at all in the moment. Even if he could, it wouldn't be believable.
He folds his arms onto his knees and settles his head onto them, peering up at Elliot with silent attention and making a small gesture for him to continue, chirping,
"Telamon was intending to spook you- just a teensy bit!- with his little stunt, but now he's rather intrigued by your knowledge. Do share? He'd rather not the room be silent."
Elliot shifted uncomfortably, put off by Telamon's sudden interest in his embarrassing display of child-like joy. "I... uh.." He started, and then looked away, ignoring the questions and instead heading straight towards the medkit he had left on the floor in his search for the bird-man. "...I'll answer that later. For right now, your health is the top priority. Regardless of your 'godly status', that bleeding needs to be treated. No ifs, ands, or buts." He sharply spoke, digging inside the first-aid kit for the larger gauze bandages he packed in scenarios like these. ..As he looked over, he winced as he remembered just how bad the wing wounds were. "...Speaking of which, you're going to have to take that dress off-- at least partially. I need to bandage it properly for it to actually do anything, and the clothes would cause problems." His words were said rather simply, eyes scanning the kit again before he walked over and inspected the wing wounds closely. He rolled a little bit of the bandage out and compared it to the comedically large wound to gauge how much he would need before rolling it back up, tail flicking in thought.
Telamon hums absently, the pitch betraying its disappointment at Elliot's avoidance of the request- but it couldn't complain- it hadn't expected Elliot to share, not really- though it had truly been intrigued, even beyond the purpose of noise to distract itself from the situation at hand- it was nice to know more about forms it enjoyed taking! Made them more effective!
It pouts at the turn-back to the lingering wounds, the burnt-sugar smell in the air seeming to intensify as it's brought to attention. Sparks dance along the smoke billowing from its tail, threatening to catch, like its daring Telamon to burn itself up at just the thought of allowing itself to be helped. (Not that that's in the cards in the first place, but it's tempting to try.)
..but! Telamon perks up with barely-contained excitement as it spots a shining opportunity for messing with the pizza boy, smile turning insufferably smug as it trills,
"Wooow, Elliot! You're so forward!!! You haven't even taken Telamon out to dinner, how scandalous!!!!!!"
.....and then promptly shuts its mouth and removes its halter without further hassle. It can't die, but bleeding out still isn't exactly fun to Telamon- and, frankly? It can't stand the sweet scent in the air.
His gaze shifted over to the slightly flickering flames attempting to rise, noting to himself to be extra cautious when approaching. ..He wasn't quite sure what got such a rise out of Telamon, but he didn't want to test it. As much as he hardly knew much about it's abilities-- largely due to not particularly being religious (also causing him the inability to view the strange man as a proper deity)--, he knew it had power that was not to be tampered with. As Telamon talked, Elliot snorted, face subconsciously hardening at the tease from Telamon as he prepared to wrap the bandage roll around the patches of blood. The strong stench of burnt sugar certainly wasn't helping keep away the displeased expression. "You know VERY well what I meant-- ugh. You sound just like Chance. And I don't mean that as a compliment." He sighed, then honing in on his work. "You'd think someone would treat the person patching up where their limbs are actively missing with more respect..." He muttered, then gently leaning down for a small pair of scissors to try and trim away excess. "There. Feel all better now, Mr. Big Bird?" He half-joked, stepping away and reorganizing his tools. "In all seriousness, though. Stop by if it ever needs redressing or anything." He ordered, then pausing as he remembered something from earlier in the conversation. "...Or if you need to talk, I suppose. I assume it'd hurt your already fragile ego to even suggest the idea of 7n7 having ripped off your wings to anyone else." He commented. His tone was almost sarcastic, but there was a small hint of truth; he didn't mind if the vague deity actually needed to do as such, but he had his doubts on if the Robloxian would take his words into consideration.
His tail, tucked over his lap, threatens to catch ablaze a few more times as his wounds were bandaged up, but each time it sputters out before anything can properly burn. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else as Elliot works but is... relatively cooperative! What a shock! He probably just wants to be over with needing help, given the kind of stubborn he is.
Its face scrunches up with disdain as Chance is mentioned, sticking out its tongue at being compared to the shark. Despite its apparently cooperative mood, it's still Telamon, so it huffs,
"So cruel to Telamon! Cruel and unusual, to compare it to them!!!"
As Elliot finishes up, Telamon.. immediately begins to pick at the bandages, uncomfortable, far too aware of how they pressed against it!!! It makes a show of using its free hand to physically pull away the one that's starting to pick, and instead place it on its dress, which it begins hastily putting back on. There's nothing to see, but it's still a degree of vulnerable that it'd rather be in for as little time as possible.
"...this sucks! But it's! ...better than bleeding out, he supposes."
He stops and stares, visibly rolling Elliot's offer to talk about what happened around in his head before he reaches out for his cloak, pulling it over his shoulders to cover the open back before chirping, as cheery as he can possibly make himself,
"The offer is... appreciated, but there's nothing to talk about! Telamon was caught off guard, that's it! He'll come by when necessary, though!"
....of course. It's Telamon, after all.
Elliot’s tail flicked in thought, squinting at Telamon as he pondered to himself about the possible circumstances that would’ve led the bird to be ‘caught off guard’. He knew all too well the strange ‘bond’ 7n7 and Telamon had— it’s hard to ignore whenever they drag you along some stupid journey for some weird swords, yet you only wanted to deliver a pizza— and had a difficult time imagining why the bug would hurt him in particular.
“I’m having a really hard time believing that, you know. You aren’t the type of guy to just.. let that happen. You have more power than anyone’s dreamed of, yet you… Didn’t use it to stop 7n7? At all?” He pressed, his tail starting to lash slightly.
He then gestured vaguely to the general area of the now covered wounds, locking his gaze back onto Telamon as he continued. “You let him rip off your wings, for crying out loud! That isn’t anything you just… sit back and watch for! What happened out there?” He questioned— almost angrily, before forcing himself to relax.
He should know better than to ask about that. He could easily see that it was a sensitive subject, but.. He couldn’t understand. And, unfortunately, out of all the personality traits he’s ever had, his curiosity will stay strong until the day the man keels over dead.
“…I apologize, Telamon, but.. this isn’t a regular occurrence in any sense of the word. I’d let it go if it were a more minor injury, but…” His words trickled off as he fumbled to try and figure out an appropriate response. “… You know what I mean. Whatever.”
Deep down, he knew that his chances of getting an actual mature response was low— but he was persistent enough that if need be, he’d absolutely keep poking the bear. He’d poke it until it mauls him to near death, if he had to.
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon squirms under Elliot’s gaze, trying to shrink and hide under wings that aren’t there, headwings curling to hide his face as the pizza boy stares on in what must be disgust, that such a powerful being couldn’t hold his own! He must think Telamon revolting, he must! Surely he was rushing out to spread the word!
Surely! Surely he must think the worst of Telamon! How could he not, when Telamon came to him in such a state! How could he not!
Telamon isn’t sure, exactly, when he started moving along with Elliot’s suggestion- though, he ended up pulling off his vest to try to stem the bleeding instead- it would be a shame to stain his cloak with ichor- he actually liked his cloak! It was a nice cloak! Hid him very well! It was shadowy and warm and he had worked on the golden embellishments for longer than he would ever admit to anyone- really, he had worked on the whole cloak for longer than he would ever admit, but-
He wraps his vest around himself and lets himself get lost in a circle of thoughts of things that did not pertain to the situation at hand, and he half-curls himself into a corner of the cabin to wait for Elliot to get back.
Elliot slid back in through the doorway, wavering a bit as he caught his balance. ...Huh. He... couldn't find Telamon? Which is truthfully shocking considering how obvious the bird makes himself out to be. Where on earth could he have gone..? He set down the medkit, gently calling out the other's name while looking around the cabin cautiously. As he was searching, a glimpse of golden caught his eye in corner. He turned around to inspect it further, only to find.. "A FURBY!!!" He squealed excitedly, rushing over and picking up the 'furby' with child-like joy shining in his eyes. He began inspecting it closely, muttering rapidly to himself before spotting the now matching pools of blood pouring out the sides of the 'furby' and nervously clearing his throat. "..Er. Telamon. I can tell that's you. ....Sorry about that. Even if it's not my fault you were probably trying to scare me, asshole.." He released his grip and let Telamon plop onto the ground, getting the medkit and skating back over. "If you don't mind, can you please not be a furby? I can't exactly fix you up right if you stay like that." He coughed, refusing to make eye contact. ...This is embarassing.
Telamon falls onto and remains on the ground, wriggling to try and kick himself upright before relenting and shifting his form with a half-fluid motion, from furby to harpy to shoving himself up on the arms of a not-quite robloxian (with, for a second, too-many-eyes) and staring up at Elliot, stunned at the brief display of enthusiasm from the typically irritable pizza boy.
He blinks, far slower than is strictly necessary, and shifts to sit up, legs tucked close to his chest and tail swaying- the rarely spotted thing peeking out of his gown. He lets himself lean forward a bit, letting curiosity onto his face in place of his typical smug grin- as if he could manage the damn smile at all in the moment. Even if he could, it wouldn't be believable.
He folds his arms onto his knees and settles his head onto them, peering up at Elliot with silent attention and making a small gesture for him to continue, chirping,
"Telamon was intending to spook you- just a teensy bit!- with his little stunt, but now he's rather intrigued by your knowledge. Do share? He'd rather not the room be silent."
Elliot shifted uncomfortably, put off by Telamon's sudden interest in his embarrassing display of child-like joy. "I... uh.." He started, and then looked away, ignoring the questions and instead heading straight towards the medkit he had left on the floor in his search for the bird-man. "...I'll answer that later. For right now, your health is the top priority. Regardless of your 'godly status', that bleeding needs to be treated. No ifs, ands, or buts." He sharply spoke, digging inside the first-aid kit for the larger gauze bandages he packed in scenarios like these. ..As he looked over, he winced as he remembered just how bad the wing wounds were. "...Speaking of which, you're going to have to take that dress off-- at least partially. I need to bandage it properly for it to actually do anything, and the clothes would cause problems." His words were said rather simply, eyes scanning the kit again before he walked over and inspected the wing wounds closely. He rolled a little bit of the bandage out and compared it to the comedically large wound to gauge how much he would need before rolling it back up, tail flicking in thought.
Telamon hums absently, the pitch betraying its disappointment at Elliot's avoidance of the request- but it couldn't complain- it hadn't expected Elliot to share, not really- though it had truly been intrigued, even beyond the purpose of noise to distract itself from the situation at hand- it was nice to know more about forms it enjoyed taking! Made them more effective!
It pouts at the turn-back to the lingering wounds, the burnt-sugar smell in the air seeming to intensify as it's brought to attention. Sparks dance along the smoke billowing from its tail, threatening to catch, like its daring Telamon to burn itself up at just the thought of allowing itself to be helped. (Not that that's in the cards in the first place, but it's tempting to try.)
..but! Telamon perks up with barely-contained excitement as it spots a shining opportunity for messing with the pizza boy, smile turning insufferably smug as it trills,
"Wooow, Elliot! You're so forward!!! You haven't even taken Telamon out to dinner, how scandalous!!!!!!"
.....and then promptly shuts its mouth and removes its halter without further hassle. It can't die, but bleeding out still isn't exactly fun to Telamon- and, frankly? It can't stand the sweet scent in the air.
His gaze shifted over to the slightly flickering flames attempting to rise, noting to himself to be extra cautious when approaching. ..He wasn't quite sure what got such a rise out of Telamon, but he didn't want to test it. As much as he hardly knew much about it's abilities-- largely due to not particularly being religious (also causing him the inability to view the strange man as a proper deity)--, he knew it had power that was not to be tampered with. As Telamon talked, Elliot snorted, face subconsciously hardening at the tease from Telamon as he prepared to wrap the bandage roll around the patches of blood. The strong stench of burnt sugar certainly wasn't helping keep away the displeased expression. "You know VERY well what I meant-- ugh. You sound just like Chance. And I don't mean that as a compliment." He sighed, then honing in on his work. "You'd think someone would treat the person patching up where their limbs are actively missing with more respect..." He muttered, then gently leaning down for a small pair of scissors to try and trim away excess. "There. Feel all better now, Mr. Big Bird?" He half-joked, stepping away and reorganizing his tools. "In all seriousness, though. Stop by if it ever needs redressing or anything." He ordered, then pausing as he remembered something from earlier in the conversation. "...Or if you need to talk, I suppose. I assume it'd hurt your already fragile ego to even suggest the idea of 7n7 having ripped off your wings to anyone else." He commented. His tone was almost sarcastic, but there was a small hint of truth; he didn't mind if the vague deity actually needed to do as such, but he had his doubts on if the Robloxian would take his words into consideration.
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon squirms under Elliot’s gaze, trying to shrink and hide under wings that aren’t there, headwings curling to hide his face as the pizza boy stares on in what must be disgust, that such a powerful being couldn’t hold his own! He must think Telamon revolting, he must! Surely he was rushing out to spread the word!
Surely! Surely he must think the worst of Telamon! How could he not, when Telamon came to him in such a state! How could he not!
Telamon isn’t sure, exactly, when he started moving along with Elliot’s suggestion- though, he ended up pulling off his vest to try to stem the bleeding instead- it would be a shame to stain his cloak with ichor- he actually liked his cloak! It was a nice cloak! Hid him very well! It was shadowy and warm and he had worked on the golden embellishments for longer than he would ever admit to anyone- really, he had worked on the whole cloak for longer than he would ever admit, but-
He wraps his vest around himself and lets himself get lost in a circle of thoughts of things that did not pertain to the situation at hand, and he half-curls himself into a corner of the cabin to wait for Elliot to get back.
Elliot slid back in through the doorway, wavering a bit as he caught his balance. ...Huh. He... couldn't find Telamon? Which is truthfully shocking considering how obvious the bird makes himself out to be. Where on earth could he have gone..? He set down the medkit, gently calling out the other's name while looking around the cabin cautiously. As he was searching, a glimpse of golden caught his eye in corner. He turned around to inspect it further, only to find.. "A FURBY!!!" He squealed excitedly, rushing over and picking up the 'furby' with child-like joy shining in his eyes. He began inspecting it closely, muttering rapidly to himself before spotting the now matching pools of blood pouring out the sides of the 'furby' and nervously clearing his throat. "..Er. Telamon. I can tell that's you. ....Sorry about that. Even if it's not my fault you were probably trying to scare me, asshole.." He released his grip and let Telamon plop onto the ground, getting the medkit and skating back over. "If you don't mind, can you please not be a furby? I can't exactly fix you up right if you stay like that." He coughed, refusing to make eye contact. ...This is embarassing.
Telamon falls onto and remains on the ground, wriggling to try and kick himself upright before relenting and shifting his form with a half-fluid motion, from furby to harpy to shoving himself up on the arms of a not-quite robloxian (with, for a second, too-many-eyes) and staring up at Elliot, stunned at the brief display of enthusiasm from the typically irritable pizza boy.
He blinks, far slower than is strictly necessary, and shifts to sit up, legs tucked close to his chest and tail swaying- the rarely spotted thing peeking out of his gown. He lets himself lean forward a bit, letting curiosity onto his face in place of his typical smug grin- as if he could manage the damn smile at all in the moment. Even if he could, it wouldn't be believable.
He folds his arms onto his knees and settles his head onto them, peering up at Elliot with silent attention and making a small gesture for him to continue, chirping,
"Telamon was intending to spook you- just a teensy bit!- with his little stunt, but now he's rather intrigued by your knowledge. Do share? He'd rather not the room be silent."
Elliot shifted uncomfortably, put off by Telamon's sudden interest in his embarrassing display of child-like joy. "I... uh.." He started, and then looked away, ignoring the questions and instead heading straight towards the medkit he had left on the floor in his search for the bird-man. "...I'll answer that later. For right now, your health is the top priority. Regardless of your 'godly status', that bleeding needs to be treated. No ifs, ands, or buts." He sharply spoke, digging inside the first-aid kit for the larger gauze bandages he packed in scenarios like these. ..As he looked over, he winced as he remembered just how bad the wing wounds were. "...Speaking of which, you're going to have to take that dress off-- at least partially. I need to bandage it properly for it to actually do anything, and the clothes would cause problems." His words were said rather simply, eyes scanning the kit again before he walked over and inspected the wing wounds closely. He rolled a little bit of the bandage out and compared it to the comedically large wound to gauge how much he would need before rolling it back up, tail flicking in thought.
"don't go overboard" is 15 live salmon overboard...
MAGIC ANON! 15 live salmon.
"Now, where were-- WHAT THE FUCK!!!!" He shouts, scrambling back like a cat at the sudden salmon.
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon squirms under Elliot’s gaze, trying to shrink and hide under wings that aren’t there, headwings curling to hide his face as the pizza boy stares on in what must be disgust, that such a powerful being couldn’t hold his own! He must think Telamon revolting, he must! Surely he was rushing out to spread the word!
Surely! Surely he must think the worst of Telamon! How could he not, when Telamon came to him in such a state! How could he not!
Telamon isn’t sure, exactly, when he started moving along with Elliot’s suggestion- though, he ended up pulling off his vest to try to stem the bleeding instead- it would be a shame to stain his cloak with ichor- he actually liked his cloak! It was a nice cloak! Hid him very well! It was shadowy and warm and he had worked on the golden embellishments for longer than he would ever admit to anyone- really, he had worked on the whole cloak for longer than he would ever admit, but-
He wraps his vest around himself and lets himself get lost in a circle of thoughts of things that did not pertain to the situation at hand, and he half-curls himself into a corner of the cabin to wait for Elliot to get back.
Elliot slid back in through the doorway, wavering a bit as he caught his balance. ...Huh. He... couldn't find Telamon? Which is truthfully shocking considering how obvious the bird makes himself out to be. Where on earth could he have gone..? He set down the medkit, gently calling out the other's name while looking around the cabin cautiously. As he was searching, a glimpse of golden caught his eye in corner. He turned around to inspect it further, only to find.. "A FURBY!!!" He squealed excitedly, rushing over and picking up the 'furby' with child-like joy shining in his eyes. He began inspecting it closely, muttering rapidly to himself before spotting the now matching pools of blood pouring out the sides of the 'furby' and nervously clearing his throat. "..Er. Telamon. I can tell that's you. ....Sorry about that. Even if it's not my fault you were probably trying to scare me, asshole.." He released his grip and let Telamon plop onto the ground, getting the medkit and skating back over. "If you don't mind, can you please not be a furby? I can't exactly fix you up right if you stay like that." He coughed, refusing to make eye contact. ...This is embarassing.
means hes pink . evil style . spectre's in there
"THE FUCKING SPECTRE????" He yowled, fully dropping the medkit this time as he put his hands on his head. He then paused, thinking. "....I guess that.. makes sense?? With him ripping Telamon's wings off?" He murmured, then gently picking up the medkit as he skated back to his cabin.
Do you know why the bugs pink, Elliot? We're a little.. afraid, I suppose?
-☁️⬛️
He hums, seemingly not properly processing the question at first before freezing up. "HE'S PINK NOW? WHAT????" He shrieked in confusion, nearly dropping the newly found medkit in his hands. "...NO???? I DON'T KNOW WHY?????"
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
Telamon's hackles puff up at Elliot's- albeit warranted- touchiness, tensing up at the lifting of his arms. He understood the reason, understood that he had a habit of refusing aid, but he always so despised when he was poked and prodded at- even despite his habit of doing much the same, for far fewer reasons. Nonetheless, he bristles, averse to being inspected, scrutinized in such a state-
The Illumina hums at his side, and he forces himself to relax. He wouldn’t be forgotten, so long as he was its wielder, and he wouldn’t be defenseless, so long as it chose to remain at his side. So it would be just fine, just a visit with Elliot for something that certainly didn’t make him feel like a chunk of his self, his identity, had been ripped off.
He had dreaded when the pizza boy would ask to see his wings, knew it was inevitable. And of course he did, because that was all Telamon ever bolted to the impromptu doctor for, because that was all that ever mattered to be maintained as well as possible- Telamon could not die until he was forgotten, so most wounds did not matter, but his wings were his top priority, because it was his most recognizable feature, what people tended to remember about him- his namesake, technically, as the Golden God.
..he knows that it was the reason he went to Elliot in the first place, but with the burnt sugar smell of ichor in the air damning him as he sheds the cloak, it still feels like he will die for the crime of being vulnerable.
Elliot gently took the cloak from Telamon's hands-- talons?-- and set the clothing off to the side, then turning around to inspect the.... The Definitely Not There Wings.
He stared in horror at where the feathered limbs were now absent; instead of wings, there were instead obscenely large amounts of blood pouring out the bird-like man. He blinked up at Telamon, mouth open in shock. "AND YOU SAID THIS WASN'T URGENT. AND THAT 7N7 DID THIS TO YOU. WHAT???" He shouted, briefly pacing around before freezing. "...Sorry, Telamon. ..um." He looked around, realizing he didn't have any leftover medkits currently in his cabin. "..Just stay put, alright? Try using your cloak to help with the bleeding in the meantime. I need to grab some supplies really quickly." He shakily ordered, then swinging the door open and skating out in the blink of an eye.
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Telamon drags himself through the doorway, hesitating to draw too close, lest the slightest detail give away that this is anything important, that he needs help, that he's weak, because if he's weak, he's not needed, and if he's not needed, he's not believed in, and thus, he ceases to exist.
So, he can't give up the game just yet- and the cloak is his lifeline, the safest hiding spot he'll ever have, hood over head and hiding his face in a comfortable shadow.
"He, ah. Had a bit of a scuffle- a minor incident with 007n7. Nothing to worry too much about!"
He shuffles, clearly uncomfortable, as he mumbles, part truth and part flattery,
"..you were the best- or, rather, only, but who has time to linger on that- person he could think to go to for this."
Elliot simply hummed, completely disregarding the comment about it being a 'minor incident'. If it was, he sincerely doubted Telamon would've so much as entered the cabin. Cautiously, he approached the other man and then gently grabbed and lifted up one arm, inspecting it carefully before moving on to the other. ...The smell of his blood (or, rather, the smell of burnt sugar) was strong and unmistakable, but he couldn't find any obvious indicator of a wound. That is, with the cloak on, he couldn't... He assumed, from the cloak still covering Telamon and nothing else being evident anywhere else on his body, that the wounds were probably on his back-- or, even more probable, his wings. As much as Telamon wouldn't ever admit it, he tended to be very particular about them (and Elliot himself can only recall a handful of times where visits from Telamon weren't about his wings). Meeting the shaded gaze of Telamon's with his own, he spoke. "...Telamon. Would you mind taking the cloak off? I need to take a look at your wings." He-- much less requested, more demanded.
007n7 vs Guest 1337
007n7
Guest 1337
"GO N7 🔥🔥🔥🔥"
"???"
"GO 7N7 GO"
Telamon staggers over, cloak clutched around himself like a lifeline, leaning against the doorframe for support. He takes a moment longer to start speaking than he usually does- never the type to wait to talk.
"Elliot. Are you, maybe, busy? Telamon needs help- NOT URGENT."
...that feels like it just might be a lie.
-@t3lam0n (hai honeyyyy)
Elliot, who was briefly dozing off by the fireplace, jolted at the sudden voice in the doorway. Hesitantly, he turned his head, squinting at the huddled form of Telamon and then getting up from his chair. From the looks of things, whatever Telamon needed help with was 100% urgent— as per usual, though, the idiot was probably too proud to admit it. “If it isn’t the golden man of the hour.” He began, weakly doing jazz hands before continuing, “…But, no, I’m not busy. What do you need, Telamon?” He asked, eyes glancing around the man in an attempt to spot any obvious wounds or other injuries.
Be Aware of The Bird.
He quickly tensed, slowly relaxing as he scoffed. "I'm already fully aware of him, you know. I know he exists, but thank you. ...did he get into some stupid bullshit again or something??"
join my emo band
He raised an eyebrow. "....I'm not joining your emo band. It's not like I can even quit my job right now, anyways."
FAMILY PHOTO!!
"Dave, get out of the picture-" "I COUNT AS FAMILY, I MARRIED YOUR BROTHER!!"
WELCOME TO [ANOTHER] MULTI-RUN ASKBLOG FOR THAT ONE SPECIFIC KILLERSWAP AU! It's connected to @c00lbug, @t3lam0n, and @wakeuppizzaboy!! Also @keepinyadebthfree, by all means!
I'M. I'M YOUR HOST BUG. AND THEN THERES YOUR OTHER HOST BIRD. AND WE'RE MISSING OUR BANSHEE 💔💔🥀
AND THE REST IS DOWN BELOW!!
[LOOK AT THESE GUYSSSS I DONT HELP RUN THIS BLOG BUT MY AMAZING PARTNERS DO!!!! GO LOOK!!!! RIGHT NEOW]
