Just a bit chilly

[furtive_heroics]

A man grumbles at the cold. He always grumbles at the cold, here. Everyone does. There's no escaping it. You can wear the warmest clothing possible, sit by a roaring fire, and still the cold bites. It doesn't numb, either, you'd think that after a while you'd just go numb - no. It's not that kind of cold. The victim shivers and curses and bundles up with a thousand layers and still it's so cold that it hurts. Almost everyone here travels from tiny insufficient fire to tiny insufficient fire to insufficient and drafty bar run by a terrifying dragon, trying to stave off the cold. It never works, but it makes it slightly less torturous. And cursing and grumbling at it always helps.

He is not staying here any longer than he has to. He is not going to fucking stay here, no way. He's been through too much to languish as a sacrificial lamb in the eighth circle of hell while an archdevil goes on a rampage. Cania's for traitors. And he's not one. He was loyal until the day he - well, not died. Was banished. And he doesn't deserve to be here.

He'll find a way out. Eventually. And then someone's going to have a very bad day.

But he's not thinking about that right now. He's thinking that he's pretty sure some vital parts are going to turn blue and fall off from the cold, so he's picked the warmest of his available frigid options to try and plan his next move. He'll take the bar with the dragon. He opens the door -

...

And this is not the bar with the dragon. It's much, much warmer.

His head screams trap, but he can't bring himself to close the door and walk away. Inside he goes, shivering. Warmth.

Comments

[subtly_artistic]

"I don't even approach epic, so I don't think I'll be much good. I'm not even planning on it if I can possibly avoid it. I'm going to get my degree and my master's and do a nice quiet life of therapy practice and charity work and dabbling in arcana."

[furtive_heroics]

"Yeah, no problem. It's kind of the sort of thing I wouldn't want to drag random bystanders into anyway. ... Smart move on getting into therapy. It's - yeah, therapists. The world really needs more of them. Or mine does, anyway."

[subtly_artistic]

"It's the obvious thing to do with enough subtle arts oomph. Nice and safe too."

[furtive_heroics]

"I wish you a nice, safe, long happy life," says Veron, sincerely. "No dragons. Or medusas. Or dracoliches."

[subtly_artistic]

"Some gorgons are reasonably friendly, but thank you."

[furtive_heroics]

"I've probably become biased by now on the subject of medusas, I should work on that," he agrees. "Sorry."

[subtly_artistic]

"Nah, I get it, it's hard not to flinch when somebody new matches whatever seemed most important about somebody who hurt you."

[furtive_heroics]

"Yes. That. Thank you for being understanding."

[subtly_artistic]

"Hey, I haven't had actual therapy classes per se yet but I can try."

[furtive_heroics]

"I think the mindset's probably more important than a lot of the specifics. Often I find that people just need someone to talk to."

[subtly_artistic]

"Or explain things. I somehow wound up Designated Humans Explainer at school. People come up to me at lunch and ask what doilies are for and why the human sex drive is so low and stuff."

[furtive_heroics]

Snrk.

"That," he says, "is a noble endeavor, and I wish you the best of luck with it."

[subtly_artistic]

"It's kind of fun? Figuring out ways to put it in plain language."

[furtive_heroics]

"Yeah - I have a kobold friend that occasionally wants things explained. Though sometimes I think he asks certain things on purpose to get an interesting reaction he can write down for his book."

[subtly_artistic]

"Ha. I bet that has either already happened to me or will soon enough."

[furtive_heroics]

"Only a matter of time. The only way to win is to get the author to like you so they write your praises."

[subtly_artistic]

"I don't think I've offput too many of my querents... I'm also not sure any of them have been writing books, I may just have bad luck when an authorial one comes up."

[furtive_heroics]

"Ah well. If you want a kobold to sing and write your praises, look up Deekin Scalesinger, he'll probably adore you. Though you might not like his writing style, it's kind of an acquired taste. And sometimes he lies extravagantly."

[subtly_artistic]

"Wrong plane. Interplanar travel that doesn't deposit itself in my dorm supply closet is the sort of thing I try to avoid."

[furtive_heroics]

Snort.

"Right, yeah. That's fair."

[subtly_artistic]

"What d'you want to do when you're out of your current mess?"

[furtive_heroics]

".... Sleep. For weeks. In a nice bed that is not made of spiderwebs." Pause. "After that I have absolutely no idea."

[subtly_artistic]

"Spiderwebs? Yikes. No offense to any subterranean elves in hearing distance but still."

[furtive_heroics]

"I mean it's spidersilk, but - yeah, kinda - yes. That. It's better than the previous sheet material, that was, uh, shadow cloth stuff?" Pause. "But that's not saying much, that stuff was incredibly creepy."

[subtly_artistic]

"Euagh."