tampered | Log; COMPLETED!

Log; COMPLETED!

When; Yesterday-ish? Early Jan. 10th let's say
Rating; G
Characters; Mulder

m1jac0ge0 & Freyjadour

dawn_shower
Summary; Mulder and Frey finally get some coherent interaction? Hopefully?

Log;

The “apartment” (that was what they called these little houses it seemed, stacked on top of each other) that Freyjadour had settled in probably wasn’t small but having spent all of yesterday milling about this place he was feeling just a little caged. The Sun Palace was spacious and even then he’d been allowed to wander the city at his leisure. And with the traveling in the past months…staying still in one place had become a bit of a foreign concept to the rebel prince.

Taking a tray with him he headed back to the spare room that his temporary guest had settled in. Mr. Mulder, that girl had called him. And since the man had been in no shape for introduction when Freyjadour met him he’d just called him that. He’d woken up sometime yesterday but the disjointed sentences and words made little sense to Freyjadour. The Dawn Rune had healed the man’s injuries but there was little that it could do for his state of mind.

“Mr. Mulder?” he queried quietly, knocking lightly on the door though it wasn’t completely closed. Jowy had come yesterday and with the other boy’s help Freyjadour had managed to learn how to cook this “canned soup.” It wasn’t good by any stretch of the term but it was edible. “May I come in?” he asked politely, not really expecting an answer, at least not one that made sense.

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Agent Mulder had been starting to recooperate. He didn't know what had been done to him to help as he'd just barely been conscious when he finally was found. Once he'd known someone had seen him, he had gotten a deathgrip on the few things he had with him, and let himself pass out.

He'd been sore, but cognitive. The stabwound was healing, but as these things are, it was sore to move that side of his back; nothing heals overnight no matter how much magic is applied.

He'd been struck in the head as well at the time, and whereas he still hadn't approved of what Dornez and Bloodrayne had done, he counted himself lucky there'd been enough rational in the vampires that he'd been able to crawl away still alive.

There was a lot of hate for the cult within Walter, Mulder knew, due to his attack by the Pyramid thing...

Mulder had managed to sit up, open his laptop, and start to peruse what had happened on the network since, when there'd been Xuchilbara, like a maddening itch, like the worst migraine ever....

and the next thing Mulder knew he'd lost three or four hours.

He was still sitting up, slightly dazed, but his comprehension was returning to him.
As before, he knew he'd have to be careful getting anywhere near the thoughts Xuchilbara had blocked inside of him. Any attempt to think about those things would bring that headache and delirium back with junk interest.

There was a knock at the door, and he could smell some kind of food, or the heat that implied cooked food anyway.

his stomach felt raw, and he wondered if he could hold anything down.

"Sure, I...I mean, it's your place anyway, I guess..." He didn't know his rescuer's name, and that was no little embarassing. He tried to draw himself up into a better position and hissed as the wound in his back made itself known again.

“I…didn’t want to intrude, you seemed rather preoccupied by…something,” he answered politely, letting himself in. Freyjadour was quite relieved really, to hear that his guest was at least more lucid. He didn’t seem all there, not madness like the kind that had been induced by the Sun Rune, just…missing something.

He set down the tray on the bedside table, taking a seat in the chair that he’d pulled up beside the man’s bed. Once Mulder had woken up he’d obsessively began going through those announcements or whatever they were. If the young prince had it his way the man would be resting. The Dawn Rune was powerful healing magic but there was only so much he could do. And even though he hadn’t admitted it in front of Jowy he was worn out from healing those other men as well that he’d helped only shortly prior to finding Mulder.

Wordlessly he took a few of the pillows and tried to adjust them behind Mulder’s back, trying to make him more comfortable though he knew there would be phantom pains where he’d been injured for a few days to come. “If the pain bothers you too much I can try to find something for it.” He was no good at household chores, though he was not in line for the throne he was still royalty and as such didn’t really have a chance to learn what might seem to be the most basic skills to others. But at the very least he did know how to tend to the wounded because after a battle and his decisions had caused injuries he refused to sit back.

And even though he’d resolved himself not to overly involve himself with any of the factions in the city he didn’t like walking away from those who needed his help. It simply was not in his nature to do so, good or bad, friend or stranger.

It took him a moment or two to remember this was interaction and this meant he should be saying something.
That was one of the most irritating things about this type of insomnia. One little slipup and you were back to preschool when it came to reasoning things out.

He managed a smile. "It's not too bad. Unless of course I'm wrong and drop from total renal failure in a few hours. I just can't believe I let that one slip by me..." He knew since his arrival in this city he'd become more and more of a liability and that hurt more than his injuries. Had he become that dependent on Scully having his back?

Names. Oh yes, names. Best get that out of the way before he forgot his own again and found himself muttering it to keep it at the surface.
"I'm Agent Fox Mulder, by the way, Federal Bureau of Investigation." The job title was out before he could catch himself. The FBI didn't mean much here, he'd have to stop mentioning it one of these times.
His badge had no value anymore. Not here.

Not really with the FBI anymore, either, but that part was moot. "and you?"

Now that it was in the room with him, the soup smelled interesting.
He wondered if it was for him.

He returned the smile warmly, hoping to be of some comfort, Freyjadour wasn’t too worried about the man’s injuries, he had faith in his rune’s capabilities. But the more he watched Mulder the more he worried. Though the man had smiled it felt like he had to remind himself to do the most simple things or even to remember the most simple facts.

“I’m… Frey,” he said simply, no title, not even his full name. He didn’t think Mulder needed any more information to handle at the moment. “I found you outside, on the streets, yesterday morning and brought you back. A friend of yours, Lady Lyra, told me your name but I’m glad to hear it from you.”

Moving to take the tray from the table he settled it on his lap. He spooned a bit of the soup into the smaller bowl, offering it to his guest with a small smile. “I know it’s not very good and you might not even really want to eat but I think it’ll do you some good,” he offered gently.

"Well. I wouldn't start the culinary critique this early in the game," he suggested, "since I haven't even tasted it yet."
To his credit, Mulder managed to shovel in some of the soup; it wasn't cooked thoroughly, but then he had at times just opened cans and eaten what was in them with utter disregard to the idea of heating things on the stove anyway.
"I was trying to get back," he said, thinking about how he'd gotten out on the street. "I...there was..."
He felt his vision blur and fought to keep both his concentration and his lunch.

It took a lot of effort, and he was pretty sure he must have looked ridiculous, trying to fight off that irritating noise that came with Xuchilbara's enchantment over him, but he managed to bring himself back without losing it. "ok,"he continued, "not allowed to talk about where I was yet, apparently."

Could he talk about them? He was pretty sure he could talk about them in abstract. For some reason this never seemed to matter.

Perhaps Xuchilbara had enough of an ego that he liked knowing the whole city was talking about him, so long as no one remembered anything of actual threat or importance.

"Lyra spoke with you about me?" Mulder ate another spoonful, "she's been very concerned. As have we all. Have you heard anything about the cult?"

Frey hovered close by Mulder, worriedly. For a minute he worried that the man might lose consciousness, or throw up, or both. The pale-haired teen gently eased the injured man back to rest against the pillows for a moment, not allowing him to move too fast lest he get disoriented.

And there was the mumbling again. Mulder didn’t strike him as the type to absently talk to himself, he was no Viki. Couldn’t talk about that…? “It’s okay, Mr. Mulder, just talk about what you want to. I’m new to the city so I don’t know much of anything about what’s going on.”

Once the small bowl was emptied Frey refilled it slightly, careful not to offer too much. If he made the man eat too much too quickly it would probably just come back out. It was painful to watch someone who was probably an otherwise capable man struggle like this. It reminded him just faintly of things that were better left sleeping in his mind until he got out of the city.

“Lady Lyra said she’d come visit you, I thought you’d appreciate someone familiar around.”

"Probably. That's assuming I remember her name by the time she gets here." It was hard when he came that close to some memory deemed 'wrong' by the god for him to regain his equilibrium.
"would I like to be tamed?" he said, to no one in particular, remembering something the god had taunted him with, "more like neutered, by my estimation..."

It took him a moment to realize Frey probably had no idea what he was talking about, and this ranting was just going to make his condition look worse.
He tried to sit up a little better and winced again.
Ohhhh yeah. Henry and his nasty little knife.

"There was a case I was on," he said, "classic possession. The boy and his mother were Hungarian, I think.
Hungary's a place in Eastern Europe," he added quickly, just in case Frey didn't know and then, just as quickly, Mulder realized his host might not even be from Earth so that would have been no clarification at all.
"In the end I had to call for this group of exorcists.
They had me help hold him down.
They told me not to look into the boy's face lest the evil in him would come to recognize me."

It was easy enough to remember these snippets of his life before the City, he realized.
The thought that Xuchilbara had probably looked at these memories too somewhat sickened him. No doubt the god dismissed all that he and Scully had been through as a lesser evil than Xuchilbara itself..

"It worries me that Lyra taunts him, that thing." he continued, "I know she said she's done some great things where she's from, but that monster looked at all of my achievements and still managed to get a hold on me.
Maybe it's because she thinks he won't touch her because she's young. But I still remember that case when I think of this,and I remember the warnings of the Calusari that neither innocence nor vigilance may be protection against the howling heart of evil.

You...wouldn't happen to have any coffee, would you? If I had coffee and a bag of sunflower seeds that would about make my day."

The information came in a sudden strange waterfall, tumbling from somewhere in his guest’s muddled mind to his lips to Frey. It was confusing but Frey listened patiently, not making any faces, not getting irritated. He let Mulder take his pauses, waiting patiently for him to continue because Frey knew there was more instinctively. There was a lot that Mulder wanted to say, to explain it seemed, though he wasn’t sure if it was for Frey’s sake or for Mulder’s own.

Everyone coming from different worlds did not make what the older man was saying any easier to understand. But stories of ghosts and possessions were universal it seemed even if the details varied. Falena was an old Queendom, it had its share of ghost stories though Frey couldn’t grasp the particulars of the one that Mulder was explaining. It wasn’t just a story to this man, it was an experience. Perhaps akin to how true runes were a legend to most but to Frey they were achingly real.

He was glad though when Mulder paused though, asking for coffee and sunflower seeds. He worried that the man was straining himself too much, but if he wanted to talk Frey would listen. Perhaps if he got some of this off his mind he’d be able to rest better.

“There’s probably coffee…not sure about sunflower seeds but I’ll see what I can do,” he got up from the chair, heading to that little kitchen that came with the apartment.

Mulder nodded, and set down the soup, laying back and closing his eyes.

He probably fell asleep for a few. Healing was a strain, and he wasn't exactly over the crest by a long shot.

When he jerked awake again he looked surprised that he even had dropped off and, as though the time had never even passed, was still looking around for the coffee he'd been promised.

The package had puzzled him. It seemed there was instant everything in this world, or worlds maybe. He could never be too sure where everything came from because it seemed like there was a little of everywhere in this city. But for now it suited Frey just fine, he knew how to make tea but coffee was a concept that was only marginally more familiar than ghosts for him. And with the instant things mostly he had to add water and wait.

He got back in time to watch Mulder jerk awake, apparently having fallen asleep. Frey set the mug on the bedside table as well, sitting down on the chair again. “I know you want to figure things out but maybe you should sleep a little? Your body is still strained from everything,” he suggested lightly. And although Mulder was a far cry from Lym he tried anyways, “And perhaps when you wake up I’ll have acquired those sunflower seeds for you…”

"Oh. No, it's alright. I'm sure I need to pass on a few messages as soon as my head stops spinning." And when would that be? Last time it had taken almost a week to get over Xuchilbara's little 'gift' to him. At least this time he hadn't had to experience the demon firsthand.

Mulder didn't like rest. He had had recurring nightmares for as long as he could remember now in which he was the last person left in the world.
He had taken to eating sunflower seeds because his father had liked them. Often the sound of his father crunching on them in the den had been the thing that calmed him after waking from that dream as a child.
There couldn't be crunching if everyone was gone, now, could there?

But he was weak, and he was edgy, and before he could stop it from happening he spilled some of the coffee in his lap. The wet warmth was not a pleasant sensation. "Great," he muttered, "now my crotch is going to be up all night."

“With all due respect, Sir Mulder, it does not appear your head will cease to spin any time soon,” Frey frowned and shook his head slightly, taking on the tone that he’d only recently learned as commander in chief of an army. He reacted quickly when Mulder dropped the mug of coffee, scooping it from the man’s lap. It was…trying to say the least. Dealing with someone not just foreign but most literally alien, injured and too stubborn to rest apparently.

“Please get out of those pants,” he mumbled, trying not to feel awkward. Not body shyness really but generally he did not see so much of people he barely knew. What Dr. Silva allowed him to do to help was more for morale than anything else honestly. And those people in his army he knew most of them, if not by name then by face. He wasn’t sure what he would give Mulder to wear. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with having a strange naked man in close proximity but Lady Lyra! She was planning to visit and that was definitely not something he’d be comfortable with.

“If you get cold I’ll get you more blankets…I don’t have any clothes that would fit you for now. But I’ll make sure to get you something before Lady Lyra comes,” he assured, more for himself than Mulder.

"Yeah. There's nothing so lacking in social grace as running around bare assed," Mulder admitted.
His clothes were still full of bloodstains, he noticed as he tried to edge up off of the thing he'd been sitting on.
For a moment he remembered why but that set his head spinning again, and he almost fell over... the pain in the small of his back actually brought him back to his senses.

Scarab. those wires.
so much blood.

Vincent is dead. I hated him, but it doesn't particularly make me happy.

It took Mulder a few to realize that he'd just lost about ten minutes there, staring into space.
How he hadn't fallen ove rhe would never know.
At least he hadn't started undressing before zoning out.

"Maybe Jan has some spare pants, do you think?" he said, "you could ask Lyra to ask him."

He stripped out of the stained pants deftly, and got a blanket wrapped around his waist before he could freak Frey out too badly.

Not like he wasn't wearing boxers, but still...

He supposed he should be used to it, others speaking like this. It wasn’t as if Kyle or Roy were particularly delicate about their speech but Frey still found it strange. “Crotch staying up?” “Bare assed?” His Mother was never terribly fond of such coarse speech. And though his Father was supposedly a “barbarian” he’d never heard him use any language that was quite like this.. He quietly thanked whatever god or entity or rune that was watching him and chose not to bring Lym in the city. Or Lyon. Or Kyle if simply because it would have done nothing but magnify his slowly growing headache.

“I shall be sure procure some clothing as soon as I am able to. Which would require you to kindly rest, Sir Mulder.” He’d caught Mulder before he fell, steadying the man until he snapped out of whatever daze ate at his consciousness.

“I cannot leave your side without knowing you are resting and recovering.” Once Mulder was dressed Frey pushed the older man onto the bed. He was careful not to really hurt him but there was little room for argument this time. In less than twenty minutes the man had nearly fallen asleep on his feet twice clearly his body was not going to be able to keep up with him if he continued this way.

"Yeah. I guess a few minutes rest wouldn't hurt..." Mulder let himself hit the bed. The dull ache in his lower back was nothing to the buzzing in his head.
It was rest or go amnesiaced again, and rest won out this time, anyway.

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Log; COMPLETED!

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