exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date & Time: July 9th, morning-ish
Location: Room 606
Characters: Artemis, Adrasteius, and Kirian
Summary: Some pointy-eared assholes have to live together.
Warnings: Potty mouths and yelling.

Artemis hadn't slept in four days. Not that he did a lot of that on an average given day; it was hardly something he needed in the first place. But it helped him relax and clear his mind, not to mention that it kept the days from blurring together, so he was in the habit of getting in a solid two hours per night. The first couple nights after his arrival had been fairly restless, and eventually he had just given up on trying.

First it was the constant, unignorable reminder deep in his bones that the environment of this world was polluted and corrupted beyond repair. And then came the dark murmurs in the back of his head-- as though he hadn't had enough of those already. He doubted that any dreams that might occur would be very pleasant even if he did manage to get some sleep.

Needless to say, he was a bit on-edge as he rifled about the kitchen, studying the contents of the refrigerator for what must have been the fifth time in the last hour, before settling for refilling a cup of coffee instead, before making his way to the nearest window to blankly stare out at the bleak cityscape.

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It was a strange pressure, and he knew something was wrong half a moment before he was unable to breathe. His right hand went instinctually to this throat, but there was no pressure there.

There were two things to do, and he had to decide quickly. Run, or stay and fight. He closed his eyes. He didn't dare waste what breath he had on a spell.

Which left one option.

His fingers found the catch in his cane, and in a quick movement, pulled the spellblade that was concealed in the shaft. It was a simple blade, but it glowed fiery colors (because Power Torrent ruins everything). He held it at the ready, raising a brow at Artemis.

Hopefully the other man would get the point.

Artemis' own sword was in his bedroom; he had not even dressed himself for the day, and was hardly going to put on his sword belt when he was in his pyjamas. Still, it was hard for him to feel threatened despite being unarmed. He took a long look at the blade, and then met Kirian's eyes and gave a raised eyebrow of his own. He knew full well exactly how asphyxiation affected the human body, and he did not imagine that the effect on elves would be much different.

"I wouldn't try that."

His head was starting to swim, and he sneered. Whatever this man was, he was no mere mage. He was dangerous, as well.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lungs burning, and his head started to swim. Spots danced in his sight, and the room almost started to move around him. His hand with the spellblade dropped, the dagger clattering to the floor, and Kirian nearly followed, trying to reach out to catch himself on something- even Artemis- as he fell.

Just like that, Artemis allowed the oxygen to return. He caught Kirian by the shoulder before he could hit the floor. His grip was almost excessively tight as he helped Kirian to stand upright.

Kirian had annoyed him, yes. But he had not forgotten all of his self-control.

He took in a deep gulp of air, gasping for breath at is hurt to fill his lungs again, and once he knew what was happening, he found his own balance and shoved Artemis away as best he could. It was a bit stronger a push than might have been expected- he wasn't entirely frail.

He said nothing, didn't need to say anything, merely gave Artemis the best glare he could manage as he held out his hand, his spellblade rising from the floor for him to grab.

Artemis took a step backward, reaching for his coffee mug to take another sip from it, then setting it down once more so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

"That was a warning," he stated.

"Noted."

His tone was clipped, and he sheathed his blade. His tea had stopped boiling and was now merely steaming in the cup, but he left it where it was and limped from the room.

What the fuck was with his roommates? He knew he was difficult to get along with- it was quite intentional, most of the time. Perhaps he'd have to take more care, here. In Azeroth, he could handle the Magisters well enough. But these people were largely unknown.