Welcome to Gaia! ::

Despite both being young and — if they were completely honest with themselves, inexperienced as compared to most more weathered travelers — Jakkoa and Hargitt had not found themselves in much of any real trouble during the first weeks edging on into a month of their travel. Then, as though specifically to test them, trouble had reared its head. Small trouble still (or so Jak hoped), but enough to leave Hargitt prone on the furs of their now-temporarily-shared tent as Jakkoa tended to cleaning and re-bandaging the puncture wounds on his leg.

After the initial incident and the flurry that had ensued in its wake, neither Jak nor the other man present at the time had thought it safe for Hargitt to fall unconscious, lest his condition rapidly worsen in his sleep and the toxin get the better of him. They had managed to keep him lucid for the period he needed to be, and Jak’s magic had — as much to his own surprise as anyone else’s — responded to his pull more readily than he could remember it doing, bolstering the effects of the herbal anti-toxin he’d been dosed with and the body’s natural immune system and healing capacity.

He couldn’t have been sure when, after the stranger who’d come to advise him on keldari venom had left, Hargitt had fallen asleep, but it must have been moments after Jak conceded he could do so safely, and not long after that — though he’d intended to remain conscious and vigilant himself — that Jak, too, had fallen asleep, fully dressed and seated with his things at Hargitt’s side.

He had awoken there, still fully dressed, half-collapsed next to his still-fully-unconscious traveling companion, to the first sprigs of gold dawn lighting their tent. It couldn’t have been that long of a sleep, since it had felt to Jak at least that the snake had seen fit to visit at an obnoxiously late hour of the night already, to the extent that it must have been ‘early’ morning even then. And it was not late morning now. Thus, when Jak had pushed up onto an arm and winced at his sore muscles (his body’s punishment undoubtedly for the odd position he’d slept in), it was with a lingering grogginess.

Sunlight, though, looked good in Hargitt’s hair.

There was a moment, as light had glinted off a loose strand, that Jakkoa’s stiff body and all other surrounding circumstances fell to the wayside, irrelevant as compared to the single thought: he could have reached out then and tucked his fingers against Hargitt’s face to tame the wayward strands. Or just to touch.

But, Hargitt had made his interests (or lack thereof, as the case may be), evident on several occasions prior, and it seemed unsavory to take liberties of a man ill-fit to defend his honor—even such small ones as this, for the moment. So, Jak had leaned back instead, appreciating the view without touching as he shifted his own body about—arching his back, stretching his arms, his legs, twisting his neck—until he felt at least functionally limber.

Then, he had set to the task of examining the previous night’s damage, and engaging in the current task: cleaning and finishing with the re-wrapping of Hargitt’s leg.

When he finished, he was left with a choice. Morning was upon them, and though Hargitt wasn’t up yet (surely thanks only to his encumbered state, since he generally rose as early or earlier than Jak) there was much to be done that Jak could have gotten to work on. Breakfast. Organization. Preparation.

It was still reasonably early morning, however, grogginess was still upon him, and Hargitt’s physical state, at least, had been tended to. Jakkoa removed his boots, and the outer layers of his clothing — though, for Hargitt’s sake more than his own, he left on undergarments. He folded his clothes, set aside his medical supplies, gathered up the throw-over blanket he usually slept with, and arranged it over them both before settling to sleep.

On his furs.

It was hardly his fault Hargitt was there as well, and if the fates were feeling kind to Hargitt’s blushing dignity, perhaps he would outsleep Jak’s morning nap as well. Jak wasn’t especially concerned either way, and Hargitt’s body made for a fantastic heat source.

As easy as it was for Jakkoa to fall asleep, he was also reasonably quick to wake, depending some on how at ease he was with the environment and how tired before sleeping to begin with. When Hargitt first stirred, he didn’t. This was his tent, and the night prior had been trying on everyone involved. Sleep held fast.

When Hargitt touched him, however, Jakkoa’s head tipped first into the sheets with a waking hum of inquiry. Being as large as he was, Hargitt’s weight — even just partially balanced on one hand — was impossible to ignore, and after, Jak’s body shifted with a yawn under the touch. He rolled, twisting partly onto his back as he blinked upward and pulled hair away from his face to study his company.

“Hargitt.” It took him another half moment to process the rest of the situation: how he’d gone to bed, where, why, and what Hargitt was doing here. His gaze flit down to the man’s hand, and then to his leg back up to his face with a knotted brow. “As pleasant as all this is, I don’t think you should be moving much just yet.” He reached, moving up to a sit in order to push and leverage Hargitt back to the furs. “Whatever’s in those island beasts is nothing to take lightly. The toxin hit your system so quickly…” Jak’s gaze flit down over him. “Well, it’s fortunate you’re the size you are. If it had bit me, I might not have come out so lucky.”

Tipping his head, he adjusted his posture to better actually look again at the man now that they were both conscious. “How are you feeling?”

“No,” Jakkoa answered, “it didn’t. Thanks to you.” ‘And me.’ Technically, he’d taken a knife to it as well, but that didn’t seem to matter much in the moment. “We killed it. So it won’t be biting anyone else, either. Hopefully there aren’t more of them…”

When, instead of answering his question, Hargitt pushed upright and made as if he intended to try to leave, however, Jakkoa’s gold eyes flashed, a sharp huff skirting from his nose, and the next moment he was—none too gently—pressing the significantly larger man back firmly to the bedding.

“I need to rest?” he parroted. “You need to rest. You are not moving. You can barely see, gods protect. Don’t make me tie you down.” His gaze flicked to Hargitt as he paused in a rummage back through his medical supplies. “I will, you know. I have thought about it before. Admittedly…” He looked back to his things, plucking out a small packet of herbs and some fresh ointment and dabbing cloth, “…for less noble reasons in the past, so I suppose if it’s necessary to keep you still, you can let me now. As your doctor…” He plucked a leaf from the pouch between two fingers, holding it out to where he held Hargitt pinned (for the moment, as a temporary precaution) under his knee to the furs, “I promise to behave. Eat this.”

In his current state, Hargitt didn’t actually look to have enough energy to struggle overly much, and Jak didn’t want to cause him any difficulty breathing, so he removed his weight immediately after, setting the rest of the herbs away for the moment and moving to reach for his clothes. “And do tell me how you feel, don't dodge the question. Every part of you. We haven’t made it nearly far enough for me to have to find a replacement already, but I have to know what I’m working with before I can fix it.”

“No.” That really seemed to be all the answer necessary in response to Hargitt’s initial bear grumbling and insistence that he would rest only once he returned to his ‘spot.’ But, despite the fact that it oughtn’t have been necessary to explain further, Jak still thought it prudent under the circumstances because Hargitt was clearly part out of his mind and delirious from the fever. “You’re poisoned. You can barely move.”

He touched the backs of his fingers to Hargitt’s forehead, though he didn’t need to under the circumstances to know:

“And you have a fever. Which explains your sweating. Your body will be trying to flush the toxin from your system, and needs every reserve of energy available to it. So until then, you’ll stay here, in my tent, and not move until you have my permission. The chemicals in that herb ought to help manage your aches. I’ll make you something to drink for your fever.”

As he spoke, Jakkoa dressed. He wouldn’t be going far, since they were clearly grounded and he didn’t trust Hargitt not to attempt moving about if he were left unsupervised long, so he opted for simplicity over pizzaz—though even his most modest and practical articles had been chosen (or altered after-purchase) to be at least passably flattering. Once he’d successfully donned fitted leggings and a breezy cotton shirt, he shifted to inspect Hargitt’s leg. Then, after satisfying himself that its current wrapping would do for another several hours—not entirely surprising, since he had tended to it earlier that morning—he fetched his brush, and began working through his hair.

“Are you hungry at all? I’ll cook you anything available that you think you could stomach. The poison may not affect your digestion at all but it’s just as possible that it will, so if we do try something, I suggest eating slowly and seeing how your body takes it. You’re through the most dangerous portion of it all, though, and should only be improving from here, so you needn’t worry and if you think you could sleep, you may rest as much as you need to.”

Jakkoa frowned, pulling his hair around to work on the opposite side and shaking his head at a thought. “I still do not know what in the goddess’ name a kelardi was doing here of all places. This is what smuggling of dangerous beasts gets us. It must have been brought here, intended as some pet to a high tower iceling with no concept of the consequences it has on everyone else…”

Jakkoa glanced to his ‘patient’ as Hargitt mumbled, clearly heavily under the effects lingering impairment. Not a surprise, given his temperature and general state of him. “Yes, well,” he said, uncharacteristically gentle—perhaps simply because Hargitt’s voice was so muted, it seemed to encourage a quieter atmosphere, “I’m not your mother. But I am here to take care of you for the time being, so I’ll appreciate your cooperation with that effort.”

After finishing with his hair, he pulled it into a loose but tidy braid before setting to his make-up. It wasn’t looking to be a day of much salesmanship so nothing elaborate was required, but he still enjoyed the process of taking a moment out of his morning to look over himself and what he’d be presenting to the world, touching up with powder or light cream. Once through, he set everything away and shot Hargitt a glance, brow furrowing with thought at the negative response to the food inquiry.

“Even if you aren’t hungry yet,” he said at length, “I’ll bring you some of what I prepare. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that your stomach might be affected by the venom, and if you aren’t feeling up to it yet, you may wait, but I would recommend trying to get something into your system to help speed the process as soon as you think your stomach can handle it. Is there anything in particular that sounds more palpable or appetizing? I could make a trip into the village to see if they had anything which might be gentler on your gut than meat and starch.”

Jakkoa made a face, indignant. ‘Can’t work, can’t-’ What kind of absurd sadist—? Perhaps it was because the man was feverish. It struck Jakkoa unnervingly of something oft-repeated, a muttering of a ‘rule’ instilled early that came up like regurgitation when the mind was inhibited or wandering. He tucked the thought away for later examination, however, and in the moment simply dismissed the instruction.

Hargitt needed to eat. Anyone sick or otherwise injured enough to be incapacitated and incapable of working needed care above everyone else. So, he shook his head.

“Get some rest,” he said. “If you’re at all tired. And if you’re not, try to be still. I’ll return with breakfast and then tend to other affairs. Don’t push yourself,” he added for final emphasis, pressing a forefinger to Hargitt’s chest. “I won’t be too long.”

And with that, he left. They had enough meat and leftovers that it didn’t take long to start a small fire and heat enough for the both of them. After dividing up enough for the both of them, he took Hargitt’s share back into the tent and set bowl and spoon within reach, but enough out of the way that it hopefully would not be knocked accidentally.

“You needn’t eat until your stomach feels up to it,” he said. “But do eat when it does.” He eyed Hargitt critically. ‘Can’t work, can’t eat.’ “That’s an order. I’ll return throughout the day to check on you.”

Hargitt was a stubborn man. But Jakkoa no less so.

As he’d said he would, he checked in on the other man periodically throughout the day, and was pleased to note both that Hargitt did eventually eat his share, and seemed to spend a healthy portion of the time sleeping—an especially fortunate thing, given Hargitt’s temperament and apparent propensity to think himself invincible or somehow not needing of care in the same manner as everyone else.

Regardless, he did eat and sleep, and in the middle time, Jakkoa gathered what further information he could about keldari — for future reference if nothing else at this point, since Hargitt was on his way to recovery but apparently these beasts were about — in addition to his other inquiries. When he returned, it was late evening, and with supper—and bread. As he slid aside the tent flap and stepped inside, he eyed his patient.

“Restless yet? Or still feeling like a poisoned stone.”

The fact that Hargitt was upright — but still present where he belonged — was encouraging, at least, though at a glance Jakkoa guessed he was still feeling the heavy taxation of initial recovery and exhaustion—if brighter eyed and more alert than prior. He crouched to set Hargitt’s portion of food within his reach, and snorted softly at the inquiry.

“No,” he said. “Though if you’re bored and have anything you could do while relatively stationary, I could bring you any of your things.” He eyed the man’s leg. “After we eat, I’ll tend to that again and hopefully you can get a full night’s rest tonight.”

In…his tent?

Jakkoa’s gaze turned to his food, spoon stirring idly for a moment. Well, nothing else made much sense, and the man had already spent a night there and not vouched any serious objections. “I suppose we’ll be sharing sleeping space again here tonight, as I don’t want you out with that exposed to the elements—particularly since there are evidently beasts about.”

He wasn’t sure why it occurred to him again then, except that it had been flitting through his mind periodically throughout the day, and when his eyes happened on Hargitt’s food, Can’t work, can’t eat…, his lids narrowed a fraction. At least Hargitt had eaten his prior portion, and so Jakkoa supposed he didn’t need to press him on it so long as he ate with him now, too. Though at the thought he did glance about the space.

“What did you do with the utensils from this morning?” he asked, unsuspicious but confused with himself now that he thought on it, because he hadn’t noticed the empty bowl among those he’d selected from, but nor was it laying about here. “What I brought breakfast in with, that is.”