Lorenz Hellman Gloucester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silky_bearing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
avalononline2021-12-20 05:53 pm
silky_bearing) wrote in avalononline2021-12-20 05:53 pm
Video: @rose_of_gloucester (Post-Solstice)
[Lorenz is folded in on himself, tucked tightly onto an armchair with his legs under him. He's doing his best to look as irritated and haughty as ever but there's a little edge of something heavier under that.]
Has anyone had much luck with potions work yet? [He holds a small, empty bottle up, some small trace of liquid still left inside it.] I've no idea what he meant to accomplish with whatever this is but-
[He's quick to redirect the camera before he either reveals how worried he is or just surrenders to his frustration. One is as likely as the other at this point. The camera pans down to show that his chair is tucked up beside a bed... a bed where one Claude von Riegan lies, suspiciously peaceful, clearly deep asleep. His familiar, a small wyvern about the size of a housecat, curled up on his chest snoring softly. Though she squirms a little when the light from Lorenz' phone shines on her, flopping one wing over her head.... and smacking it directly into Claude's face.
Not that he responds.]
We can't get him to wake up for anything and while I can't be too concerned, it's likely his own fault. Honestly. Always sticking his nose in things-
Well. Naira isn't concerned so I doubt he's in any danger but we need to be returning to Camelot before long. Of course he'd play with these things and not stop to consider how inconvenient it is for the rest of us cleaning up his messes. [The camera turns back to him, fingers rubbing at his brow as he wills down his annoyance. It's so much easier to be irritated than it is to twist himself into knots with worry.]
If we can't find a way to wake him I may have to ask someone far sturdier and more agile than myself to carry his sorry hide back to Camelot.
((OOC: There is no actual potion mishaps here but no one is surprised that's what Lorenz suspects. Flayn is hovering around Claude too so expect responses from one or both of them. Not like anyone is worried about this idiot.))
Has anyone had much luck with potions work yet? [He holds a small, empty bottle up, some small trace of liquid still left inside it.] I've no idea what he meant to accomplish with whatever this is but-
[He's quick to redirect the camera before he either reveals how worried he is or just surrenders to his frustration. One is as likely as the other at this point. The camera pans down to show that his chair is tucked up beside a bed... a bed where one Claude von Riegan lies, suspiciously peaceful, clearly deep asleep. His familiar, a small wyvern about the size of a housecat, curled up on his chest snoring softly. Though she squirms a little when the light from Lorenz' phone shines on her, flopping one wing over her head.... and smacking it directly into Claude's face.
Not that he responds.]
We can't get him to wake up for anything and while I can't be too concerned, it's likely his own fault. Honestly. Always sticking his nose in things-
Well. Naira isn't concerned so I doubt he's in any danger but we need to be returning to Camelot before long. Of course he'd play with these things and not stop to consider how inconvenient it is for the rest of us cleaning up his messes. [The camera turns back to him, fingers rubbing at his brow as he wills down his annoyance. It's so much easier to be irritated than it is to twist himself into knots with worry.]
If we can't find a way to wake him I may have to ask someone far sturdier and more agile than myself to carry his sorry hide back to Camelot.
((OOC: There is no actual potion mishaps here but no one is surprised that's what Lorenz suspects. Flayn is hovering around Claude too so expect responses from one or both of them. Not like anyone is worried about this idiot.))
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[Lorenz had been content to simply hold the phone and let them hash this out but the moment Baiken calls her "kid" again he cannot hold his tongue. His tone shifts, very different from what she's used to hearing from him. Not the polite noble fretting about propriety or even half so lovesick as he has been of late but very much a voice accustomed to commanding troops and brooking no argument. Hard and scolding and, no matter how much he hates it, quite reminiscent of his father.]
I will accept that the two of you have a difference of opinion and perspective here but we have both told you in no uncertain terms that Flayn is no child.
Address her as such again and, friend or no, [Because he does consider her a friend, thank you very much.] there will be consequences.
[Even if she's going to pretend not to care about it.]
no subject
My point is... [ Wait, did she have a point? ]
My point is he's probably fine.
[ There. That's better(???) ]
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[No, Flayn doesn't intend to let Baiken just sweep this under the rug and pretend it never happened. But she's less angry than she could be, given that Baiken somehow doesn't seem to even realize what she said. Flayn is starting to suspect that she just doesn't think before words fall out of her mouth. Which isn't great, but at least she's probably not being a dick about it on purpose.
Flayn folds her hands in an attempt to de-escalate things, though her tone is still firm.]
I would appreciate an apology, if you would. As you may imagine, I have had a most stressful day. Perhaps Claude is fine, as you say, and tomorrow we shall all laugh at our worries, but I cannot help but have them nonetheless. I am a highly accomplished healer, and yet my magic could do nothing to wake him.
[She sighs.]
It truly saddens me to hear that you have not enjoyed your time in this place. Perhaps if you allowed yourself to have friends, rather than simply allies, you might find your way to at least a bit of happiness.
no subject
Baiken's gaze narrowed, snatching up her phone again and her tone taking on a decidedly... dark quality. There's anger in her words, and not the sort that simply comes from annoyance or petty frustrations. ]
Where the hell do you get off lecturing me like that?