stuck meme

[parser]

stuck meme

esuna off that paralysis Post toplevels, reply as usual. Hope you enjoy your quality time with your thread partner, now that you're stuck... 01. IN A CROWD — for bonus points: in a crowd, after an argument. 02. DEFENDING THE BASE — while you wait for reinforcements to arrive. Good luck! 03. ON A RAFT — or a manacutter or an airship or something, drifting towards a deserted island. 04. IN A RELATIONSHIP — that your thread partner is trying to break you out of. The relationship can be with someone else... or just your bed/pet/hobby/gambling habit. 05. IN A WAITING ROOM — while you're waiting to hear a healer/conjurer/physician/chirurgeon's assessment, and you really didn't want to run into anyone... or maybe you'd like some emotional support? 06. TRYING TO NAVIGATE — through the Ul'dahn marketplace, maybe, or Hawker's Alley, or any number of confusing Lominsan/Gridanian/Sharlayan alleyways. 07. STANDING GUARD — wherever might be applicable: outside the Rising Stones? Rowena's House of Splendors? Or maybe awkwardly in front of a bedroom with a near-stranger so that the person who hired you to keep watch can get it on inside... 08. WITH YOUR HAIR — caught in someone else's belt or leather sheath or inexplicable shoulder spike... oh, adventurers and their impractical clothing. 09. DELIVERING TERRIBLE NEWS — exactly what's on the tin. Sucks to be you. 10. DOING THE DISHES — at a restaurant where you forgot your wallet and couldn't pay the bill. 11. IN A LAKE — because this person caught you skinny-dipping and won't... go... away... 12. WAITING TO BE RANSOMED — in the actually-quite-loving care of some especially incompetent criminals. Enjoy being stuck! This meme was gently lifted off bakerstreet.

TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs

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[yourrealdad]

[Edmont holds no expectation for his son's decision. When it is made, he pushes himself slowly to his feet; always in the waning hours of the day his pains are greater and weaknesses more pronounced, though none dare speak of such deficiencies. When he calls the name of a servant, the man comes round the corner presently, and Edmont relays his orders in soft, reserved tones. Emmanellain is to be seen to a warm bath and dry clothes, and then to his study unless he has fallen asleep in the meanwhile.

The servant bows deeply, coming at once to escort his charge deeper into the house. This leaves weary Edmont, a sigh again upon his lips. Another name, this time, a call to one of their younger servants in training, and a bequest to take a treat from the kitchens to Honoroit. Share it, if the other boy should like and Honoroit prove amenable.

If Emmanellain can keep his wits about him throughout, he shall find his father settled again before the fire, book open in his hands, with his weaker leg propped upon a footstool and the cane within reach. It is as though he expected to be called away yet again, to find himself summoned once more to rise and traipse about the house as it soaks in the night's chill for the time when all within should slumber.]

[thelofty]

[ Sleep beckons as Emmanellain waits for his bath to be readied, and its call grows dangerously alluring with the soothing warmth of the water. Fortunately, the worst mishap is a dropped bar of soap that leads to Emmanellain knocking his head against the side of the tub; at no point is it required of the servant standing just beyond the door to fish his charge out from the water lest he succumb to slumber and drown. Fully thawed and clad in his dry change of clothing, Emmanellain could all too readily give in to drowsiness, but he makes the journey through the manor halls to his father's study.

A knock announces his arrival, and then he steps past the threshold.

The scene within reveals nothing of his father's expectations to him, telling him only that his father has his books to read, his tea to drink, his aches to bear. Perhaps he expected a weary messenger at the door to inform him that his son had changed his mind and retreated to his bed.

Emmanellain approaches a seat to claim. Along the way, he hesitates, gripped by some sense that he treads through his father's private haven. He blurts out the first thing to form upon his tongue. ]

Does Artoirel ever join you for tea?

[yourrealdad]

[At the sound of his son's footsteps, the page is marked, the book half-closed gently over its contents, and Edmont looks up to greet his son, who shall forgive him for failing to rise. He motions to a chair near the fire, upon the back of which is folded a woven blanket should Emmanellain feel so inclined, and nods once.]

More oft of late than when he was nearer your age, and rarely without direct invitation. [It seems both trueborn sons uphold the sanctity of their father's privacy in his own chambers.] At times he requests it, a veil of courtesy over his wishes for advice or debate.

[Though Edmont and Artoirel are more often of one mind than not, there is strife between them at times nevertheless. His yet-youthful spirit gives Artoirel over to action where discretion might prove the better course...in Edmont's opinion.]