View source for 2022-04-04: You Shouldn’t Have to Walk Around Full of Knives on Your Birthday

*'''Log:''' 2022-04-04: You Shouldn’t Have to Walk Around Full of Knives on Your Birthday
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Xander Lovell]], [[Character :: Riley Arwell]]
*'''Where:'''  Outside Harmonde
*'''Date:''' April 4, 2022
*'''Summary''': ''It’s Xander’s birthday! But the celebration is interrupted...''

----

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Xander made it another year! No thanks to Riley, but that is all the more reason that Riley should do his best to mark the occasion well. There are a limited number of things Riley has identified that bring joy to Xander these days, but... Riley will do his best.

The result of these efforts is that Xander wakes up one morning (a morning that happens to be his birthday) to the sounds of Riley's music playing (but no Riley). Instead, there is a recording sphere playing the music, and a note that reads "I haven't run away, I'm just being stupid" and a trail of tiny toy animal figurines leading out from the tent toward the seashore.

Once he arrives, he will find Riley waiting with a blanket spread out by the water for a breakfast picnic, holding a round stuffed frog (with wings) of rough but passable handmade construction. Its large, buggy eyes appear to be made from amber or some facsimile thereof. Riley deposits this plush creature into Xander's arms enthusiastically. 

"Happy birthday!"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander's eased into waking by familiar, comfortable sounds. He murmurs something to Riley against himself, muffled and muttered and moot -- there's no Riley to hear it. As he rises up, blanket still over his head, he squints with his one eye at the sphere, pawing at it and taking several extra moments to register what's going on.

''Just being stupid.'' Xander squints harder. That describes an uncomfortably broad range of behaviors.

But while he juggles the possibility of how irritated he needs to be, he finally spots an animal figurine and balks. One, and then another... And another...

Oh no. Riley ''is'' being stupid. Xander huffs a sound to himself that might be a laugh, hand over his face. He hurriedly gets up to ready himself and winces from a sharp sting in his flesh. Dread sinks into him and he tears up the leg of his pants, looking for signs of the garden. ... Nothing. It's fine. It's nothing.

He follows the trail left for him, feeling a malaise he decides to attribute to poor sleep. Yet he can't help checking with another stab of pain through his limbs. ''Still'' no thorns. Maybe he's losing it -- again -- more afraid of the curse than he's admitting to himself, letting his fear-addled mind create pain without a cause.

Just -- focus on the stupid animal figurines. (They're so stupid. The dumbest. When did Riley even find these?! Every single one of them is going in a special pocket in his bag.)

It gets easier to forget about the lances of pain once he catches up to Riley. Xander, after stashing away the latest figurine, crosses his arms and sighs at Riley with a helpless smile. He's about to ask what possessed Riley to be ''this'' weird today, when --

What. The fuck. Is Riley holding. Who made that exist? Never mind, Xander is suddenly holding it, staring at a froggy thing too round with too big eyes and wings (wings?!). He runs a thumb over the rough and clearly handmade stitching. ''Riley'' made this exist. All semblance of working thought temporarily exits the Xander.

''Happy birthday!''

Another year. Somehow, they've survived it.

"I-I told you," Xander manages to sputter out, red in the face and looking anywhere but Riley, "You don't have to do these kinds of things." He hugs the frog to himself in a instinct that suggests he thinks it might protect him from whatever he's feeling right now -- and not that it'll only make it worse once he catches himself in the act of it.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
''You don't have to do these kinds of things.''

Riley sweeps the words aside with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If you said such a ridiculous thing to me, I must have immediately put it from my mind. Come and eat your birthday pancakes."

He offers Xander a plate with a pancake upon it. The pancake also has buggy eyes--made of berries--and wings drawn on the plate with syrup. It is smiling a wobbly smile at him. There are some berries cooked into the batter as well, because... well, of course there are. 

Riley sits and serves himself a pancake as well. "There will be a song, later, once we've both built up more strength." Last time was a little... emotional. He still isn't entirely sure if Xander was happy sad or just sad sad.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
"Are we sure it's even my birthday? Wait, why are there ''pancakes?''" he says, not entirely able to keep excitement out of his naturally harsh tone. How are there pancakes? Why are the pancakes looking at him? Xander accepts his breakfast and begins to eat without further hesitation.

(Okay, a ''little'' hesitation. It's smiling at him and has wings. But it's also pancakes and he wants them.)

So he's already in the middle of a bite when Riley mentions and song. Xander goes still, looking carefully toward him. "All right." Not something Xander's willing to reject, but he already feels something in his heart unraveling, and the intensity of the last song...

"...The pancakes are good," he mumbles, as if trying not to be heard. Even while eating, one arm remains firmly around his gift, and he grumpily nuzzles into Riley's shoulder.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"It's definitely your birthday as far as you know. You are welcome to ask anyone else if you want to get another opinion." Riley is reasonably sure it is Xander's birthday, give or take a few days. He certainly remembers it was ''going'' to be Xander's birthday soon, a short while ago. It's easy to lose track of the days once they're outside of civilization. But he is willing to gamble that Xander isn't going to want to ask a stranger what day it is to call his bluff.

"There are pancakes because it is morning!" And because they are a baked good that is viable to make over a campfire. Riley wasn't expecting to be literally kicked out of town quite so soon, but he did get ''some'' of his birthday preparations finished, at least.

Xander goes cautious and still at the prospect of a birthday song.

"I'll try not to harm you with it," Riley promises. He has no idea if he will make good on this promise, though. There are elements of Xander's emotions he feels he understands and can smoothly navigate, while others remain a mystery.

''...The pancakes are good.''

Riley smiles and kisses Xander's head before starting in on his own pancake. He gave his a face, too, but he is willing to mercilessly devour it, regardless. 
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander scoffs. "Fine, it's my birthday." Getting a second opinion is at the bottom of the list of things he wants to do. Especially on his birthday.

"That's not something you have to worry about," he says of the song. If they hurt, it's only where it's meant to.

But something else hurts. Another jolt of pain hits him, strangely vague but somewhere like his core, and he swallows a bigger bite than he means to, squeezing into his froggy gift reflexively for comfort. A discreet check still reveals no thorns, and a kiss from Riley distracts him from fretting any further.

Once Xander finishes his portion, he resettles. The frog gift stays close. Riley hasn't teased him about it yet and thus there's no reason to relinquish it. His eye's only half open as he looks out into the ocean, letting the cool sea breeze contrast against the warmth of Riley close by.

How many more lives will next year cost?

...As many as it must.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
There's a brief glance of concern at Xander's flinch, but when he quiets and doesn't seem to have choked himself or anything, Riley relaxes, figuring it was nothing after all. He does wrap an arm around Xander's shoulders in case maybe it was a cringe from tormenting himself with his internal monologue.

Riley has noticed Xander treasuring the plush, and is proud of this success, but he does not quite realize that Xander's continued ability to do so may depend on Riley not drawing any attention to it. 

"It's a frog dragon," he explains. He had expected Xander to ask what it was supposed to be, but it's somehow sweeter that he went ahead and embraced it immediately instead. Or maybe he made the connection right off and didn't even need to ask...? It ''is'' a potent memory, for Riley at least. Their first adventure...

If only things could have stayed like that. 
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
A fair guess. Xander torments himself plenty. Perhaps the details and depth of that is another one of his mysteries. Hell, he's not convinced he ''isn't'' tormenting himself now. Just with something intense enough to manifest physically.

Xander looks back at the plush as Riley calls attention to it. He idly traces out the stitching again, and over the eyes, then the wings. "I thought so." His voice softer than he expects. The first time Riley dragged Xander outside after recovering from being bedridden for so long. There was no separating them after that... not until their own foolishness got in the way, years later.

Well, ''Xander's'' foolishness. He knows that now. A frog dragon is the perfect reminder of everything that matters.

But the longer Xander inspects it, the more his eye narrows. "How did you -- It's so -- I can't stand ''looking at it''," he says while looking at it. He squishes that bug eyed froggy face gently, glaring at it like he hates it forever. Smoosh. Smoosh. Then he hugs it against himself.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Squishing. Hugging. Anger. Riley is pretty sure Xander likes the toy. He beams, experiencing harmony with the universe.

''How did you --''

"I communed with forces darker than Valmar to bring about forbidden cuteness," he answers, solemnly. There are a few beats of silence as he lets this claim rest.

"No, just kidding, I read about how to make it in a book."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Riley's always known how to get to Xander since the day they met, it seems. Old, fond memories belonging only to them as they enjoy a quiet breakfast on the shore. Xander even gets a song later. How long can Xander make a day like this last...?

But such knowledge can also be used for evil. Xander goes still for a terrified moment as he looks at Riley. He doesn't immediately see through the joke. The shovel. The guitar. Everything that happens in the nightmare garden. Why not add textile arts to the growing list of absurdity? (Which dark god would even be responsible for that?!)

His tension deflates with a heavy sigh of relief, pressing his hand against Riley in a token not-shove. "Do ''not'' make me throw you into the ocean on my birthday."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Oh no, Xander really believed him, didn't he? Has Riley really fallen so far that it's plausible he'd entangle himself with another evil god just for sewing instructions?

Riley responds to the not-shove with a reassuring squeeze of his arm and a kiss.

"All right, I promise not to make any new pacts with dark forces on your birthday." Riley seems to have no shame in the extreme specificity of this offer.

He considers. "Do you have any more birthday wishes? Or un-wishes? You can ban me from more things if you like." 
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
For all his complaining, Xander remains weak. A kiss is enough for him to dispel any lingering agitation with a small sigh before he takes another of his own as tax for the terrifying joke.

"''Thank you''. I can't believe we have to specify this."

For birthday wishes, his impulsive first thought is how he wishes these strange, sharp aches crawling through his limbs would dissipate already. What position did he get stuck sleeping in last night to curse himself with this? Xander shoves it from his mind, though his breath is a little heavier than it ought to be, if only by a fraction.

"You're banned from going anywhere else today," Xander decides. "No wandering off to start trouble where I can't see you."

This is a needlessly roundabout way of saying he wants a day of having Riley to himself.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"I shall remain in view at all times," Riley says, obediently, with a catlike curl coming into his smile that suggests he is trying to come up with a way for this to backfire as an added way of teasing Xander. But he will obey! A day by the sea with Xander sounds very nice.

He leans in against Xander affectionately, so much so he seems like he's trying to tip him over.

"Anything else?"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander narrows his eye at that smile of Riley's, already recognizing that Riley is still going to find a way to be up to something.

There isn't a lot Xander lets himself dare to want these days. Most of it's already in his arms, threatening to knock him off balance. Xander adjusts to keep himself upright and support Riley's weight, combing through Riley's hair with his fingers to fix it from whatever the sea breeze has done.

"...I can think of a few things. But maybe I should hear your song first."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"All right, then, if you're ready..."

Riley coaxes his Blood Garden guitar up from the ground -- flowered vines come up to his hand, entangling together and coalescing into the instrument. He takes it in his arms and settles in front of Xander. 

"But remember, I'm not allowed to leave your sight today, so you can't look away from me." 

Yep, there it is.

Taking a deep breath to steady his own nerves, he begins to play. There is a sweet and solemn intensity to the notes, and a twinkling pulse to their cadence that evokes a feeling of starlight.

"When the world had fallen away 
And left me alone in the dark
A sweet little voice came coaxing through the gloom
''Once upon a time'' shined a light on the lives still worth living
''Once upon a time'' built dreams from the dust
And all I want is to share them with you..."

As he sings, Riley tries to share that feeling with Xander -- the way it felt for hope and happiness to be slowly, gently rekindled through Xander's imagination and care.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Indeed, there it is. Xander's face goes red, jaw clenched. "''Fine''," he agrees to not looking away, but the conviction may well be to convince himself more than Riley. He'll need it, especially once the melody begins to play and pulses in his heart. Riley's music never needed magic to reach him, but now that it's there it reaches a new level of overwhelming.

Then the difficulty ''reverses'' on him, drawn in by song, and Xander's not sure he could look away if he tried. His hostile expression softens, the words washing over him, entwined with emotion. Nostalgia bubbles up fondly, and enchanted notes leave no room for his usual self loathing. Xander moves his hand to his mouth, but it's too late to hide the way his lips twitch up into a smile.

Why bother stopping it? There's no discrepancy. This is all a reflection of what Xander himself feels every day.

... His hand tenses involuntarily.

Xander chokes on his next breath, stumbling into a collapse that only manages to be partially controlled. For a single instant, high on musical hope, he tells himself the sudden shock of pain through his arm is some kind of muscle spasm -- a cramp that'll pass shortly -- like every other twitch and pulse today.

"It's fine," he gasps preemptively for Riley's benefit, or maybe in a childish plea for Riley to keep singing. "I'm ''fine''."

But then it's not just his arm. His bones feel like they're folding in half where there aren't any joints. Xander fumbles with his clothes, checking his sleeves and his shirt before feeling down his leg, finding no thorns before his endurance runs thin. He squeezes the frog to his chest reflexively, curling himself against it as he tries to ride out whatever the hell this crushing electricity threading through his limbs is, every breath sharp and stilted.

Riley may be able to see what Xander cannot: blood beginning to stain through the back of his shirt, spreading from a line down his spine.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Xander's plea comes too late--the song falters out and Riley rushes over in a panic as soon as he sees Xander crumple in pain.

"Xander, what -- what's wrong, what's hurting?" The way Xander's checking all over himself, and finding nothing, it seems like ''everything'' might be hurting.

Riley joins in the inspection, spotting the blood at Xander's back and drawing in a sharp breath as he lifts up the back of his shirt to see.

"It's... here. The thorns." he says quietly, touching his fingertips gently near where the blood is welling and tracing alongside his spine. Are the thorns anywhere else? Or is whatever's happening to Xander because they're already... ''inside''? 

He already knew, when he saw Xander searching himself, what he was looking for, and what they were likely to find. But a deeper wave of sadness and fear well up with the confirmation. And he feels like he's sinking down into it. The thorns have become more and more brutal in their manifestations. Choking away breath. Stealing sight. And now... whatever fresh hell this is?!

It was a long reprieve. It was getting easier and easier to pretend that all of that darkness belonged to other people. Other versions of themselves they could ignore or laugh at or outrun. But now they're back to ''this'' life. The one of dread, and pain, and death. And now it's the peaceful life that's unreachably distant, locked away behind another kill.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
It eases, eventually. Not completely. Agony lingers there like it belongs, and Xander finds himself shaken as he tries to get up. Maybe it'll pass as the day goes on. ... Who is he kidding? Riley confirms what it is, horrified but knowing, and the soft touch letting Xander know where the problem lies. It'll only get worse from here.

It's merciful Riley was able to find it on his own, because Xander can't find his voice for a moment. He huffs out an already dead laugh, then falls quiet, staring at nothing, eye empty. His tears aren't quite enough to fall.

No. He can't retreat like this. Xander wills himself back into focus. He hates how Riley's song was silenced, hates how the day is falling apart, hates how their ''lives'' are falling apart. He manages to lift himself upright and reaches out for Riley's cheek.

"It's fine. We'll be fine," he repeats, his voice unconvincingly broken and hoarse. Xander swallows to wet his throat. It isn't enough to get his voice back just yet, fingers still trembling.

''It's still worth it,'' is what he doesn't get to say, the lyrics of Riley's song echoing in his thoughts.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley wraps his arms around Xander, worry rising in his voice as he sees Xander's gaze start to go distant.

"Xander? Xander...!"

''It's fine. We'll be fine.''

Riley lets out a breath. But is this even anything to be relieved over? Xander isn't fine at all. How much pain is he in? And this is only the ''beginning'' of the curse cycle. It already seems unbearable, and it's only going to get worse from here. Maybe he ''should'' let Xander hide inside himself until it's over, if that would help...

"Where does it hurt? Is it everywhere...?"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander needs to stay in the moment, using Riley calling to him as another anchor to latch onto. It won't be long until ''Riley'' experiences his own thorns, and after the last few round of the curse...

He's afraid to imagine what it will be. What if they killed someone now? Soon? Xander would never have to find out. Is there enough time for that...?

Riley's question gives Xander pause. For the last few moments, he's moved minimally. Not even let himself draw a full breath. He does now, letting it out slow and withdrawing his hand to look at it.

"It's -- it's calmed down. For now. I think it's when I --" His wrist flexes, then goes rigid. His eye goes wide as he grabs hold of it like that's going to ''help''. (It does not help.) The sharp pain doesn't last as long this time, and Xander sighs once it settles to something bearable. "...Just the limbs. Mostly."

But 'all four limbs' isn't a far cry from 'everywhere'.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley watches Xander grab his wrist like it's caught fire on the inside, and his expression darkens. He leans Xander against him and holds out his hand to ask for Xander's, once the pain has subsided enough that Xander is no longer clutching at it urgently, himself. Riley holds it and starts to stroke his wrist where the pain is, or was.

This isn't going to be enough. It could make it worse, and he watches for signs that he's doing more harm than good. Even if it helps, the pain is ''almost'' everywhere. Still, he wants to be doing something.

"What does it feel like?" he asks, softly.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander doesn't Riley's support, letting himself go slack against Riley. He tells himself he can call it a birthday demand later -- if there's anything birthday about today anymore. He offers his wrist when wordlessly requested, just as unspoken and without hesitation.

His eye falls shut, breath uneasy, but relaxing. The less he engages anything about his body right now, the less the pain.

Unfortunately, murder's going to be fairly engaging.

"...It was like a shock before," Xander says after considering how to describe it. "But... heavy. Constricting. Now it's just a bunch of little knives."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"A bunch of little knives," Riley repeats sorrowfully, still stroking Xander's arm because it doesn't seem to be doing any harm, and he can tell himself it's a comfort. He doesn't want Xander to be full of knives, on his birthday or any other day. His thoughts still linger with guilt on the memory of Xander withdrawing and Riley calling him back in a panic. 

"If you... don't want to be here, that's okay. I can take care of everything."

...There's a beat of silence as Riley realizes how threatening that sounds given his past behavior. "I--I mean take care of hunting to get rid of the thorns, I'm not going to hurt you!"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander's heard the phrase pins and needles to describe a limb falling asleep. This isn't that. Knives. Stabbing. Sharp and bone deep. But there's only so much sensation his mind can register at a time, and Riley runs interference.

Is it wrong to let that be, just for a little while? It's his birthday. But it only gets worse. Riley suffers next. Eventually, he has to get up again. Eventually, he has to pay the blood price again.

Just as he convinces himself he can be spared a moment's respite from the shock, Riley makes a dangerous offer.

Xander's eye cracks open to glare at him in the silence to follow. Each wordless moment that passes sees his brow lower further and further in ire.

"Absolutely not," Xander says, even after the clarification.

He forces himself to sit up, biting on a small wince as he turns to Riley. "Besides, you took care of it last time."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley wilts under Xander's glower, even though he is innocent (except for how he genuinely meant that he was going to kill a stranger, and there is nothing innocent about that at all). 

''Besides, you took care of it last time.''

"I haven't got any yet, though," Riley carefully wiggles a little bit to try to see if there are any sudden spikes of pain he hadn't noticed without jostling Xander, but things seem quiet for him still. He takes a moment to guiltily savor that, knowing the pain Xander is in and that something nasty could be coming for him soon, too.

"We might have an opening before mine show up..." He glances toward town, but recalls that there is a known eccentric agent of justice guarding the place who already bodily threw them out of the place for a much lesser crime.

"...We may need to move up the road a bit, though..."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
"No sense in waiting, then," Xander says, he tries to stand. His eye nearly bulges out of his skull, and he lifts one of his heels off the ground. Somehow, trying to spare one leg the sensation of a blade burrowing up the heel doesn't make it much better, and only partially because it isn't working even at that.

But walking on thorn infested feet was something Riley already had to endure, and at least Xander isn't actually ''bleeding'' from his legs and driving any thorns in deeper. He can handle it.

If he's hugging the frog for comfort then shut up maybe he is.

Xander offers a hand to Riley. "Best we get moving."

He, too, is very aware of the eccentric superhero waiting for them... and how Riley might feel a little more guilty than usual if Xander stabbed such a theatrical man in the face.

Pity.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley winces on Xander's behalf when he stands up and obviously regrets it. He ''can'' remember that feeling, and it makes him want to scoop Xander up... 

He tries to gauge whether Xander would want to be scooped up. He can't tell, and resorts to trying to scoop him up in slow motion so he has plenty of time to growl at him or whatever if he doesn't want it.

Is Xander feeling like he needs to be strong now just because Riley took care of one kill? "You killed a bunch of people for me when I was in Garden Jail..." What a thing to say. How did their relationship become like this...?
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
"You don't have to carry me," Xander says as his warning instead, but he isn't moving, either. It's still possible to scoop him up -- the grunt of disapproval will only come after.

Xander sighs at the reminder. "That was different." Because Riley didn't want him to, or need him to, and did not want any of that situation to happen, but not for any of the same reasons that Xander did not want Riley to kill by himself before.

(Some probably were the same, if Xander would let himself accept it.)

"...I'm not going to make you do it alone."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley mentally completes 'you don't have to' with 'but it would be nice if you did' and scoops up Xander into his arms. This isn't a sustainable way to carry him to the next town, but he can take him back to camp this way at least. He could probably manage more distance carrying him on his back, but he can worry about that after they pack up.

''...I'm not going to make you do it alone.''

"That's very romantic, Xander." It's a bit wry, but not entirely sarcastic. Is it worse to do it alone? He's not sure... Xander's preferred methods tend to feel more abrupt and brutal, but maybe cleaner, in a survival of the fittest sort of way. Riley's approach is safer, in theory, but crueler and more dishonest. He's always a little ashamed when Xander sees his tricks.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Riley of course reads that ''entirely wrong'', obviously. But Xander isn't wriggling free. Or growling. Or arguing for Riley to drop him. Instead he just makes his vague noise of protest. Which might be the worst sign he's been willing to voluntarily display. But he ''will'' stop Riley if Riley tries to take this too far.

Xander ''does'' growl when Riley calls him romantic, reading more sarcasm into it. This wasn't the life they were supposed to have. Certainly not the romance Xander once intended to give him.

"Yes, ''well'', Valmar's ruined giving you flowers, so I'm making do," he says as his own bitter joke.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley makes an affectionate noise in response to Xander's grumbling one, and continues to bridal carry him back to camp, before depositing him gently on the ground and beginning to scurry around to gather and prepare things for alchemical shrinking and travel.

Riley pauses in his scurrying to pet Xander's hair. "Well, you don't have to be romantic on your birthday, that's my job! So if we have any opportunities to end the curse today, I can do it..." He's feeling enough urgency about this to have forgotten his earlier, more playful birthday promise, since a day is also about as long as they're likely to get before Riley's thorns come in -- if that. Really, they could be along at any moment. 

Whatever remnants of Valmar's psyche dictates where the thorns show up wouldn't be foolish enough to immediately incapacitate them both, would it? ... ... no, it absolutely would...maybe Valmar is getting tired of them and wants to start over with a new, more bloodthirsty host for the Fangs.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander fights to mask a wince once he's back on the ground. He rubs into his thigh before stopping himself, not wanting to call more attention to this than he already has. Even if it is far too late to keep Riley from fussing.

The curse never responds well to alchemy, but maybe there's something...? All Xander needs to do is find a way to endure it well enough to stab someone. Unfortunately, ''stabbing someone'' has gotten quite involved lately. He needs to be able to ''fight''.
He carefully tests his limbs and moving his joints one subtle motion at a time.

"Pretty sure birthday's over," Xander grunts. "We'll get some distance from Mystery Box and keep an eye out for travelers."

Again, he makes himself get up, awkward and trying to avoid what seems to make it worse. ''Is'' there anything that makes it worse, or better? These thorns aren't ones he avoids jostling to avoid damage. It just ''is''.

"I've killed people while in pain before. This is no different."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"Birthday's over...?" Riley whips to look at him as though this, of all things, is the most heartbreaking thing Xander has ever said. "No, Xander! I'm extending your birthday until we can get rid of your thorns." He didn't even get to hear the whole song...

''I've killed people while in pain before. This is no different.''

Riley makes a sad noise at Xander and grasps him as gently as he can manage while also gazing at him with tragic intensity. "But I love you and I want to end your pain..." he pauses, cringing at himself. "WHY DO I SOUND SO THREATENING?"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
The look Riley gives Xander might hurt more than whatever the thorns are up to in Xander's spine. "That's not important!" he snaps defensively. "Just -- don't concern yourself with it right now!"

But Riley is rapidly spiraling into making ''those'' faces and noises, and ''I love you'' hits with the same paralyzing force it always does... even if what follows is, unfortunately, a little too easy to misinterpret.

How ''did'' their lives come to this?

Xander exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Riley." He takes hold of Riley's shirt to yank him close, administering a kiss like he believes this will calm Riley down. "Stop planning to kill me, and you'll stop sounding threatening." He sighs again. "For ''now''... It isn't as if this is worse than I felt before --" Xander swallows. It's getting easier to say, but that's nauseating in its own way, "-- before Cereza. I can still do what needs to be done."

Hopefully before Riley's thorns show up.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
''Stop planning to kill me, and you'll stop sounding threatening.''

"I'm ''not'' planning it, I've completely put it from my mind until the garden blooms past the line..." If it's completely out of his mind, why does he keep reminding himself of it?

Riley is momentarily mollified by the kiss. But then Xander informs him that the pain is not ''quite'' as bad as the pain that drove him to lose his mind and kill everyone they ever knew and loved. (That's how Riley hears it, anyway). The look on his face grows, if possible, more tragic.

"Xander..."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander does not want to get into a fight about his future attempted murder, making a frustrated and strangled sound in place of all the quips he wants to snap back with. There will be plenty of time to yell about that later -- he'll make sure of it.

"You'd ''better have''."

He tries to sigh out the tension, and blood pressure, he's gaining from his spinning thoughts. How close is the line now? How many more rounds of this do they get...?

But his other attempts to assuage the situation are somehow making Riley look all the more broken, and that drains Xander's anger out of him faster than anything else can. He draws Riley in closer.

"It's going to be okay," he says, voice softer. "I'm not going to disappear again. We'll get this done, quickly. And together."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Riley seems to finally ''hear'' Xander, and his stricken look fades into a more gentle sadness. 

He cups a hand to the side of Xander's face. "...Okay. Together. If that's what you want. It's still your birthday, after all." 

A pause.

"Will you let me carry you? That would be an extremely together way to travel." 
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander frowns as he watches Riley. It's an improvement, however slight. Doesn't feel much like one. But this wasn't exactly the life either of them hoped for no matter how they try to navigate it.

"It is."

Trapped in Riley's grip, Xander can't look away (and isn't supposed to thanks to his Birthday Curse anyway). His complexion goes pinker.

"You seriously think you could carry me ''that'' far?!"

There isn't precisely a lot of reason for Xander to doubt this except that it would be convenient (less embarrassing) if Riley didn't think he could.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
''You seriously think you could carry me ''that'' far?!"''

Doubt enters Riley's expression, but he presses on.

"...Love would give me strength," he ventures. "And I was going to try to do it more ergonomically."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
The response only turns Xander redder. He is still trapped. Life is (still) cruel.

"Ergonomically," he echoes, flat. "Dare I ask?"

Xander, you'd probably better ask before you get a ''demonstration''.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"Like on my back," Riley says. 

He does demonstrate the pose a little, but mercifully doesn't go so far as to pick Xander up, just miming loosely to give a general assurance that he doesn't intend to throw Xander over his back like a sack of flour or wrap him sideways around his shoulders.

"And I could sing to you a little on the way," he adds, to sweeten the deal.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Now that Xander is free, he takes the first opportunity to look away. "I said you don't have to...! Why do you even ''want'' to...?!"

But Riley offers a song and Xander visibly hesitates with inner conflict, jaw tighter.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
''Why do you even ''want'' to...?!''

Riley looks baffled--perhaps even a little affronted for a moment--before turning softer. "Because it hurts extra when you walk, doesn't it? I want to make it better."

That one's not a euphemism for putting someone out of their misery is it? No, he thinks he's good.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
It hurts just to ''be'', Xander wants to snap back, except Riley already specified ''extra'', and that is an annoying observation, somehow.

Flustered and angry and refusing to look at Riley, Xander strangles a sound in his throat. "I'm not that useless." He moves to get up again, and very suddenly, feels that useless. All it takes is the natural flex of a muscle to seize the limb up with the pain, which he isn't sure makes ''sense'' yet, but is happening.

He doesn't manage to lift himself off the ground, growling. He could power through it. He'll have to, later. But for now...

"... Fine."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
A spark of amusement that really has no business showing up at such a terrible moment wars with the pangs of sympathy and guilt at watching Xander struggle like this, resulting in an interesting expression on Riley's face.

"Xander, you aren't ''useless'' if I carry you." -- he hopes the laugh in his voice can be interpreted as complimentary in context. "Now, can I borrow the amazing magical shrinking stuff you developed so neither of us have to carry our tent?" He gives him a kiss. "And while I shrink our stuff, you can meditate on the countless times you saved my life and the fact that it is your birthday and other various reasons you should not have to walk while you're full of knives just to feel useful."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
The laugh has Xander looking away from trying to interpret whatever that expression on Riley's face even is.

At least ''one of them'' is enjoying ''something'' about this.

It feels pathetic and stupid already. It's just ''pain''. It isn't going to cause more ''harm''. Isn't this a waste of resources? If Riley's energy is considered a resource. Pragmatically, ''it is''. Their lives are entering dangerous territory now.

Xander sighs, relinquishing the specialized vial to Riley for what serves as, for lack of a better term (because it's not like Xander ever gave it one), a Camp Potion. Even just the flick of his wrist to do it makes his brow twitch. A kiss makes him glower, but it also eases the pained tension.

He's going to have to address this somehow. Hasn't figured that out. Maybe that's what he's supposed to do from Riley's back. (Xander, you received precise instruction on what you're supposed to contemplate with the freedom from contemplating invisible knives instead.)

"This is ''only'' because it's my birthday," Xander decides. "No more after this."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
"All right, only on your birthday." Riley will not point out that he already announced he was extending Xander's birthday for the duration of the thorns crisis, but plans to invoke this later if necessary.

He takes the potion over and uses it to turn their camp travel-sized, and then once he is ready and situated with their supplies, scoops up Xander onto his back to set out on the road. The promised song, after a bit of time to think about lyrics, is an improvised and merciless recitation of various times Xander saved his life, cured him of poisonings, or was otherwise amazing.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
Xander did not agree to that and thus it isn't happening. But of course, Riley's the one who sets the rules, whether Xander agrees or not.

He ''did'' agree to being carried, and he hates himself for that almost immediately. Hate begins to subside in that blissful, quiet moment before Riley's thought of what he's going to sing about. Xander finds a way to settle and relax, even close his eye. Everything hurts, but he can let it sink to a dull ache for now. He thinks to a faded memory of how mortified he'd been the first time Riley had to carry him back to Cereza. They're wrong -- whoever 'they' really are -- when they say the butterflies eventually go away. Wouldn't ''that'' have been convenient.

Then lyrics start, and Xander flinches.

"Riley," he whispers harshly against his ear in warning. "''Riley...!''"

Short of throwing them both of the ground, Xander's trapped in this scenario. He has been ''tricked''.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
<poem>
Hmm, hmm, what could possibly be the problem? Riley can't interrupt his song to find out--not again!

He adjusts to a lower register. Maybe the more rumbly vibrations will help to soothe Xander's agitation...
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
<poem>
"You're cheating," Xander mumbles into Riley's shoulder, quieter than before.

It seems his plan is working.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Chapter 2]]
[[Category:Chapter 2, Act 4]]