forum The Captive Prince (o/o) closed

Started August 12, 2019 by Deleted user

tune

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Fi nodded. He could manage two weeks, maybe two and a half if he caught Johan in a good mood and got better at handling him. "I will, though I hope I will not have to disturb you. If you could send over a list of signs of infection alongside your instructions, I would be very grateful, but beyond that, there is nothing I need." He walked her over to the door, laughing softly. "Yes, it will be… quite the journey, I think. Do you have any tips for keeping him down?" His tone was light, as playful as he could make it. "Or will I just need to make do?"

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll send you a letter containing the information within a day or so.” Eirlys followed him over to the door, and laughed softly at Fiori’s lighthearted comments. She stopped in the middle on the doorway and turned in her heel to face him. “At this point he will see right through everything I’ve done to keep him sedentary before. I’m afraid you’re going to have to make do.”

Johan crosses his feet at the ankles, watching the two of them from across the room. His lip curled in annoyance; he knew they were talking about him, likely patronizing him, but at this point he didn’t have much energy to think up a fiery retort.

Fi heaved an exaggerated sigh, peering back at Johan before he turned back to Eirlys to give her a shrug and a weary smile. "I see." He laughed, soft and at ease. IT was nice to be able to pretend that everything was fine for a little while, nice to put on the front of someone who wasn't drowning in a million different worries. "I will endeavor to be creative in my attempts then, and if I ever have trouble I will write you to come and knock some sense into him." He walked Eirlys out into the hall, and then plopped down on the bed when she was gone and gave Johan a soft sigh. "I do not suppose you will quietly accept her advice, will you?"

Johan looked back at Fiori with sunken eyes. “I have no reason not to. I want to get back on my feet as soon as I am able.” The only difference, he wanted to treat himself rather than let Fiori be his caretaker. Before this morning he could take care of his minor injuries just fine, and rub salve into his scar whenever it started to ache. He crossed his arms loosely around his stomach. “Like she said, I’ll be preparing hot baths for myself and putting ice on my chest.”

Fi let out a soft sigh, though he winced as Johan added on to his original statements. "You will not," he said. "You most definitely will not. What part of 'do not strain yourself' is so hard for you to understand?" He could imagine Johan trying to take care of himself. It wasn't remotely pleasant. "You are on bed rest," he said the word slowly, as if that would make Johan understand. "That means you stay still and nap and let me take care of you until you are better."

Johan sneered right back at Fiori’s contradiction, although it was watered down from the ache in his jaw. “Oh, I will certainly not be napping. I live to do things in life and not sleep my days away. If I have to stay in bed for most of the day I will still be keeping busy, and taking care of myself,” he repeated. “If you weren’t here I would be perfectly fine recovering on my own.”

Fi snorted and plopped down on the side of the bed. "Oh of course you would, Johannan." His voice was thick with sarcasm. He wondered what he was doing, talking down to Johan like this. All it would do was make the prince angry but Fi couldn't help but be annoyed. "You cannot even snarl at me properly without hurting yourself and yet you are perfectly capable of recovering on your own. Surely even you know that this is folly."

“Froláem,” Johan spat out a curse. “Just leave me alone! I know this is supposed to be a punishment, but exile would have been a thousand times better than you breathing down my neck.” He clenched his hands into fists, gathering bunches of his shirt. Every once in a while Fiori seemed to be alright, but then they got in yet another fight. “You’re coddling me.”

"So what if I am!?" The words were out before he could think the better of them and Fi sighed, dragging a hand down his face and forcing himself to take deep breaths. John was hurt. He was feeling powerless. The last thing he wanted was any sort of affection on Fiori's part. He forced himself to soften. "Maybe you deserve to be coddled for a few days, alright Johannan? Maybe it would be good for you."

Johan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but it didn’t last for long until suspicion flashed across his expression instead. He wrinkled his nose, and curled in his legs slightly closer to his body. “If you really want to help…” he considered a request, mulled it around in his mind before he spoke again. “Would you humor me with a request of my own if I let you coddle me for a few days?”

Fi sighed. Johan was like one of the finicky little lillies his mother used to plant in the tiny garden Father had made her, blooming once every month only to lose a few minutes later. "Only if you tell me this request of yours now so that I can make sure it is possible. I will not go against Leviticus' wishes, you have to know that." He glanced over at Johan, scanning his face in a bid to see what he was thinking. "But otherwise… yes. I would be happy to humor you."

“Let me have access to a knife and some wooden cubes,” he arched his brow, curious to see Fiori’s reaction to him requesting a knife. A potentially deadly weapon. But as of now he just desired a pastime. “The only way I am going to stay sane sitting for hours at a time is to do some whittling.” He’d picked up the hobby near the end of his tour after Eirlys forbade him from anything he had to move his face for.

Fi hummed softly, turning the offer over. A knife. He didn't doubt that he could overpower Johan when he was wounded like this, but he also didn't want to give the prince any opportunity to do something stupid. "You know I cannot," he finally decided. "But… perhaps I could give you something else to pass the time? Something that requires less weaponry?"

Johan’s expression pulled into a heavy frown. He rolled his eyes, “Please. I doubt any other pastime is going to keep my interest for such a long time.” He knew he had skill at whittling, and he wasn’t interested in learning anything else. Learning required failure, and he’d had enough of that already. Even in these few short days, he missed the hilt of a sword or the handle of his favorite knife in his hand. “Nonetheless, what other pastime do you suggest?”

Fi managed a small smile. "You act like a child, Johannan. Surely we can find something suitable to your interests." The only real question was how much learning Johan could tolerate. Probably not much. "Chess might be good, to help your strategy. Or you could take up a craft like painting or weaving, or… or that funny thing your women do. With the needles and the yarn." He tilted his head, seeing if anything stuck with Johan.

Johan blinked absently until he heard the last suggestion. He cocked his head to one side. “Why are you so scared of me having a knife when you’re offering me needles sharp enough to kill someone?” He softly chortled. “As for chess, I can’t make anything out of it unless I craft the pieces, myself. After I win the game it gives me nothing in return, and then it is reset like nothing even happened at all.”

"Because those needles are blunted, and I doubt you could put enough force behind a blow to hurt me." If Johan were able-bodied Fi wouldn't have brought it up, but a solid swing required torso movement and that was something Johan wouldn't be able to muster up like this. "And though your views on chess are misinformed, I suppose we could cross it off the list. That still leaves painting or weaving. Or your… needle thing."

“It’s called stitchery, more specifically what you’re talking about is knitting,” Johan muttered, and begrudgingly decided that it might be the closest thing to whittling. Painting was too messy and awkward, and weaving had no appeal to him. At some point in his bedrest, however, he vowed to get his hands on a knife and wood block. “I suppose I will attempt that, if you insist on forbidding me from my actual hobby.”

"Knitting." He hummed softly, mulling it over. Strange word, but it worked. And Johan was consenting to it, which meant it couldn't be entirely boring. "Well then you can do your knitting and stop looking at me like I am some sort of menace just because I will not give you a knife. Trust is earned, prince, and you in particular have not done much earning at all."

“You don’t trust me with a knife for fear that I might stab you. So if you aren’t around while I’m whittling, you have no reason to trust me or fear me,” Johan reasoned, but he highly doubted Fiori would accept his argument. He would just have to settle with knitting for a while. “And why must you insist on calling me ‘prince?’” He added, clenching his jaw. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you say that in spite to just pour salt on my wounds.”