For once, it wasn't exactly Oak’s fault that he had fallen through the ice and into the freezing water of lake []. Really! He had been walking over the thick, frozen surface safely beside Emim as the two of them tried to find out where they were on the map Emim was carrying. The trees that made up the forest surrounding the lake were old growth, which, unfortunately for them, meant that it was near impossible to see where they were coming from, or even to locate landmarks through their snow-covered boughs.
And so Emim had come up with the idea of venturing out upon the ice. There, they could try to scope something, anything, out to give them any idea as to where they were. Which meant that he and Oak were soon moving out onto the ice, equipped with one of Emim's handy compass-like contraptions and a map of the greater Sword Coast. They had worked together to test the ice before they tried to walk out to the center of the lake, Emim by taking specific measurements of the temperature of the air and ice, feet safely on the snowy shore of the bank. He also took a few extra ones that seemed to be based on the refractive distance of light through the ice, and something else that Oak had only half-heard and quarter-understood.
Oak, in the meantime, had simply jumped on a portion of the ice about a foot away from the shore. When it didn’t make any sound after the dull thud of his initial jump beneath his boots, he turned around to share his findings with Emim.
Emim, who was looking at Oak as if he had just grown not only a second, but a third head. “Do you have any idea,” he began, once he had finally managed to close his mouth, “how utterly stupid that was. The ice could have cracked the surface of the entire lake! You would have sent us both under!”
Oak had simply cocked his head at him in response. “But it didn’t. So we should be good.” Emim made an exasperated sound at his traveling companion, and in response, Oak headed out further onto the surface of the lake. A moment or so later, Emim joined him, having also come to the conclusion (albeit in a safer and more trustworthy manner) that the ice would be safe to travel upon. He asked Chantrelle very nicely to stay put and not wander too far away, and it sounded like she got the message. She chose a tree nearby to sit beneath, and started playing in the snow.
Emim and Oak walked side-by-side for a few moments, Emim guiding them out to what he believed would be around the center of the lake. The sun shone brightly above them, leaving Emim to shade his face with his hand. His tinted glasses were working overtime to protect him and his light sensitivities, but there was only so much they could do when the sun was reflecting blinding and white off of everything in his general vicinity. He cursed in Undercommon beneath his breath as he tried to adjust, subconsciously walking a little faster. Oak, on the other hand, had slowed down a bit to fiddle with the contents of his bag.
When he saw the growing distance between them, Oak hurried into a jog to catch up, slipping on the ice a little before he got to tugging on one of Emim’s sleeves when he was close enough. Emim half pulled it out of Oak’s grasp before he realized that Oak was trying to get his attention. “Here,” the halfling started, “you can borrow this. C’mere for a sec.” He tugged on Emim one more time until the drow leaned down. When he did, Oak pulled his cowboy hat from his own head and placed it gently atop Emim’s.
“There!” Oak stepped back a bit to admire his handiwork. He brought his hand up to his chin in contemplation. “Okay, it may be a little small on ya, but it should work fer now.” Emim adjusted it on his head--it did almost fit. And it did block out the bits of sunlight that had been reaching over his glasses. The sun reflected off of Oak’s hair as he smiled up at Emim, color flushing his cheeks.
[a quiet moment between the two--does emim thank oak? Does oak get too flustered first by the quiet between them, and move forward?]
"Ya know, I never realized you could actually walk on ice," Oak started up again, eyes suddenly fixed on the footprints Emim had been leaving in the thick layer of snow on top of the ice instead of his companion. "We only ever had rivers near us, and those really never froze. That would probably cause bigger problems though. Like, what if only a part of the river froze and then there was jus’ this huge chunk of ice going down the river." Emim had let his focus drift back to aligning the compass needle with the north-facing arrow on the map, now that he could see what he was working on a little bit better. He turned to his right, which had Oak skittering around him to try and stay close.
"OH--or what if it flooded the river. That wouldn't be good either," Oak continued. Emim let out a hum of agreement, eyebrows furrowed as he started scanning the map for any signs of a large body of water near the forest that he had been fairly confident they were traveling through. The fact that his compass was working more the further they traveled from the trees also said something--perhaps fae interference? Or something else--it was hard to know for certain. Either way, they would have to be careful going forward from here on out.
Across the lake, out of sight due to the camouflaging nature of the thick snow, was a small fishing cabin. Unbeknownst to the two now at the center of the lake, just a day or so ago it had been a temporary base for a handful of fishermen from a small village nestled in the forest, about a day's walk east. The group had a very successful fishing trip, gathering up enough fish to have a good supply of protein for the coming weeks.
But in order to catch the fish, they had drilled through the ice in parts, careful to keep the holes far enough from each other so as to not compromise the integrity of the ice, but still keeping the others nearby in case a second hand was needed. They had also made sure to mark each of the holes with a little flag that would catch any nearby light and reflect with the intensity and life of flames, a clear warning to stay away from the compromised portions.
But the fishermen hadn't anticipated this much snowfall overnight. Not that it really affected them, safe now as they were in their homes, prepping their winnings for smoking.
And it was the snow that had buried the flags, and obscured the thin layers of ice that had just begun to form over the holes that had been left when the fishermen had finished.
Emim had the right mindset when it came to walking on the ice--each of his steps was cautious and well telegraphed, and he stayed alert for any changes in the ice beneath his feet despite being almost one hundred percent certain that his calculations on the integrity of the ice were correct.
Oak wasn't as familiar with ice safety. He wandered around as Emim continued to puzzle out their location, kicking up snow as he went, and occasionally bending down to clear a patch in the ice so he could try to see if anything lurked beneath it. In a moment he would be off again, not one to mull around in one place for too long.
After a while, Emim pulled his head from the map, confident. "Oak! I know where we are!" He called, and the halfling looked up from where he was making something out of the snow. He kicked it over and hopped up, jogging over to meet up with Emim.
And it was the snow that did it. Not twenty-five feet from his friend, Oak's foot met not-yet-solid ice completely hidden from his view. Not that he was looking down anyway. Emim heard a sharp crack followed by a strangled yelp, and looked up just in time to see Oak disappear from view. He called out for his friend, and in a split second he was lurching forward in order to rush to Oak’s aid.
And then Emim found his own fault in the ice. He cursed as his leg punched through the thin layer and into the freezing water, but managed to catch himself--thankfully, the hole wasn’t large enough for him to slip all the way through. But he was losing time. His hands scrabbled for a moment on the ice, pushing around handfuls of snow in an attempt to find purchase that would allow himself to regain his position fully on top of the ice. The cold water seeped into his bones, and he shivered as he pulled himself free of the water. Oak’s hat, somehow, had managed to stay on his head.
A second later, he was back to his feet and moving towards the place he last saw his friend. He tried to strike a balance between speed and caution as he moved through the snow--falling through another hole in the ice might mean…
Emim shook the thought from his head, continuing to move as fast as he dare. Whether he got there through sheer luck or skill Emim didn’t know, and didn’t quite care at the moment. He knelt down on the wet snow near the newly opened hole, and quickly scooped out the thin sheets of ice floating in the water to get a better look inside. His brain made a point to ignore the red-tinged ice that sat at the edge of the hole.
He was looking for something, /anything/ reminiscent of Oak. A hand. Part of the white fur lining his over-sized poncho. One of his stupid little boots.
There--a flash of silver. Emim shot his arm down into the water, fingers reaching out for anything. Something brushed against his hand, and Emim latched onto it. He pulled with his one arm at first, the other propped up against the side of the hole, but when that didn’t feel like it was working fast enough, he stuck his other arm down in the water to get a better grip on what felt like a bundle of wet fabric.
[EMIM telekinenetic feat--can move someone 5 feet towards or away if they fail the save--oak unconscious autofail--emim grabs oak and then when he feels like he isnt pulling him up fast enough, PULLS him with pure willpower?]
And Emim pulled. But the forces of water resistance pulled back. Emim’s feet started to slip, the snow now more of a slush under his boots. He cursed again, adjusting his stance. Oak was right there, almost at the surface, and all of Emim’s struggling was not enough to finish the job.
But his desperation won out somehow. Reaching into the [Weave?], Emim pulled. With more than just his arms. He felt an ache spark up in-between his eyes, and the next thing he registered was the small, unmoving figure of Oak'lahoma Beetledust bursting from beneath the surface of the water with enough force to knock Emim backwards onto the ice with him.
Scrambling upright, Emim dragged Oak further from the hole in the ice just in case. He then carefully rolled Oak onto his back, watching as the halfling’s head lolled to the side, revealing a section towards the back of his head where silver hair was tinged pink.
Eyebrows furrowed together, Emim dragged his focus from Oak’s hair. A head injury meant nothing if the halfling wasn’t breathing. It was near impossible to tell if Oak’s chest was rising and falling--the ten layers of sopping wet clothing obscured any and all movement hidden beneath. He gently held his hand as close to Oak's face as possible, hoping to feel air moving from his slightly ajar mouth, something to confirm that Oak was still breathing, still alive.
But nothing came. Oak stayed still as the ice that Emim had pulled him from. Emim went to run his hand through his hair in frustration, and nearly knocked Oak’s stupid hat off of his own head. He needed to try to get Oak breathing now. As gently as he could, Emim pinched Oak's nose shut and tilted his head backwards. Lowering his mouth to Oak’s, Emim slowly pushed warm air into the halfling’s lungs, trying to not to think about how cold to the touch his unmoving body was. When there was no response, Emim tried a second breath.
"C'mon, Oak. Not like this." He muttered, looking at Oak’s stupid waterlogged form. On the third breath, Emim felt Oak's body jerk beneath his own, and he pulled away just in time to see Oak lurch, nearly doubling over as water spurted out of his mouth and nose. Cute. Emim immediately rolled Oak onto his side as his body continued to try and clear his lungs of the extra fluid he took on. The silence between them was filled with Oak’s coughing fits, and Emim took that moment to think of his next steps--he needed to get them out of the cold, and fast. His own Ring of Cold Resistance was keeping him safe for the time being, but with the air below freezing he could see the frost starting to form on the outermost layers of his wet clothes.
Oak would probably be of less than no help now, but at least now Emim knew where they were. And according to the map, there should be a small fishing hut on one of the far shores. He peered across the lake, but under the bright sun, all the snow was reflecting in shades of burning white. Emim could feel his eyes start to water even with the protection of his tinted glasses. Maybe he could send Chantrelle around the outskirts of the lake to scope it out? He had been hesitant to bring her out onto the ice, worried that the metal in contact with the ice would cause the surface of the lake to melt too quickly to ensure her safety. But how long would it take her to travel--
The sudden lack of sound from the body beneath Emim drew his attention back--Oak had stopped coughing up liquid, but had also stopped moving altogether. Worried, Emim placed his hand near Oak’s mouth again. This time, he could feel air brushing against his hand as Oak drew shallow breaths. Emim let out a sigh of relief. Still breathing but passed out was far preferable to the alternative.
However, now that Oak was fully on his side, Emim could see that the back of Oak's head was still bleeding, his hair now tinged more red than pink. Had he knocked himself out on the edge of the ice before he went under? Or had the hit just made it impossible for him to get a good breath of air before he went under? It was hard to tell--and Emim wasn't entirely sure if it mattered at the moment. Oak was as stable as he was going to get out here.
But next came the challenge of moving Oak. A head injury, a near-downing, and what at this point was most likely a rough case of hypothermia all called for moving someone with care. Oak’s waterlogged form probably weighed twice as much as Oak did by himself, and Emim wasn’t even sure how far he could carry Oak under normal circumstances. Maybe if he took off Oak’s poncho and laid it flat against the ground, he might be able to drag Oak to the cabin on top of it.
[emim is kind of strong though LOL. I guess it is like ]
Stray pieces of hair that had plastered themselves to Oak’s face had now frozen there, and the flush that he had grown used to seeing across his companion’s face was nowhere to be seen. It was weird--even in sleep, Oak seemed alive. Restless. There was rarely a moment where the halfling was not moving in some way or another.
[GET THOSE FUCKERS TO THE CABIN--
Option - poncho sled
Option- bigby’s hand--ask isla if she had ideas on how emim would cast it-mechanical contraption?
The fishing hut was nothing fancy, but Emim didn’t need fancy. Emim needed shelter. The lack of lock on the door was one less problem to face at the moment, if only for ease of access. He dragged Oak in through the doorway, getting him just inside enough to let the door slowly drift shut behind him. Oak would be fine there for a moment while Emim got the fire started. The pile of dried firewood on a rack was a welcome sight, as was the small tinder box above the humble fireplace. As soon as Emim had moved a few pieces of wood to the fireplace, making sure that the dampener vent was open to the outside, a fire bolt made quick work of catching the tinder. A moment later, a strong fire had kicked up in the hearth, leaving Emim free to the next matters at hand.
He quickly shed his own sopping wet clothes, hanging them over a metal [fixture? Rack?] which was soon dragged fireside. A quick rustle through his own bag produced a dry set of clothes, which he quickly began to change into. They were a little lighter than his other set, but that was mostly due to the lack of a heavy outer layer. Not that it necessarily mattered now--the fire was starting to warm the inside of the cabin, and Emim could barely feel the cold either way.
He was putting it off. Emim looked down at where Oak lay, eyebrows furrowed. The frost and snow covering Oak had just begun to melt, but it didn’t change the fact that Oak was still in cold, wet clothing. He pulled a blanket from his bag and unfolded it. Maybe he could cover Oak up as he went. Would that make it less weird?
“...Sorry Oak.” Emim started, kneeling down beside Oak’s unmoving figure. “If it’s any condolences, I’d rather not be doing this either.” He began to fumble with Oak’s one million layers of clothing. “Not that either of us really have a choice in the matter.”
Oak’s boots came off first. Emim was surprised at how much water they were still holding, the liquid spilling out into a small puddle on the floor. His socks followed, completely waterlogged. Emim just dropped them in the puddle that the boots made. That was the easy part done.
Next should probably be Oak’s jacket--should he be sitting up for this? Would that make it easier?
In the back of Emim's head, something told him that he shouldn't be moving Oak around too much. But leaving Oak as is was not an option. Emim pushed the stray hairs plastered to Oak's forehead from his face. He was still cold to the touch. And not shivering. That wasn't good.
"Fuck it." Emim decided. He unfastened the front of Oak's jacket, and unbuttoned the shirt beneath it, before reaching up to the table nearby and grabbing the knife Oak had gotten him after the incident in Waterdeep. How fitting, he thought. And then Emim started to carefully cut away the rest of Oak's jacket from his form. He separated the sleeves first, pulling each away from the now vest-like remainder of the jacket. He then cut a small slit in the front of each side of the jacket, so that he didn't have to struggle trying to maneuver Oak's arm's out of the holes. He was pretty sure he could fix these after the fact anyways.
He did the same for the shirt underneath, leaving Oak just in his undershirt and pants. He fumbled with Oak's belt, unlatching it just enough so that he could unbutton Oak's pants. Half of him hoped Oak stayed unconscious for what was going on. The other half desperately wanted Oak to come to as quickly as possible so he could just finish what Emim had started.
But Oak's still form indicated that the latter was still unlikely to happen. And so Emim carefully pulled Oak's pants out from under him, covering his bare skin with the blanket as he went. There. It could be worse, he figured. He left Oak's undergarments on for the moment, moving back up to Oak's undershirt. Emim gently unstuck the damp material from Oak's clammy skin, getting just enough room between it and Oak so that he could run his blade through it without catching Oak in the process. The first cut was just mimicking how his other two layers had opened, bottom to top. Emim worked on cutting lengthwise down each sleeve next, and before he knew it, Oak's top half was bare before him.
His [growing confidence?] was cut short when he saw the pink marks--scars--that decorated Oak's skin. They were all healed over; none of them looked new, but gods, there were so many of them. Emim couldn't help but to slow what he was doing and take a mental inventory of what seemed to be the worst of them.
Traces of lichtenberg figures were visible curling around from his back in two different spots, and on his side Emim could see the beginning of where one turned into what looked like an impact point. Each of Oak's wrists had roughly an inch of skin that looked as if it had been repeatedly shorn raw. Emim swallowed.
But the worst by far was the mark on Oak's chest. It looked as if he had been branded, and the worst part was that Emim recognized the mark. It was in the same shape as the cloak pins that Oak and his siblings had been nigh forced to wear in Waterdeep. That was the symbol of Oak's former boss.
How had he never seen any of these before…? Recently it had almost felt like Oak never left his side, whether that was a good or bad thing really depended on the situation. But as Emim’s eyebrows furrowed together, he realized that he had never seen Oak in this state of undress... ever. Thinking back, it always seemed as if Oak had something else to do, rather than visit the bathhouses with the rest of them. Or he was always just returning when the rest of them were gearing up to head there, and Emim could understand why. Questions were boiling up inside of his chest, none of which the halfling could answer at the moment, and none of which he expected that Oak would be too keen on answering.
But Emim snapped back to the situation at hand--there would be time for horrible and weird conversations later, when Oak was awake, and not probably dying of hypothermia. Emim pulled the blanket over the rest of Oak's exposed skin, before carefully dragging the remnants of his sopping wet clothing from beneath him.
He then gathered the blanket a little tighter around Oak's form, before standing back up and placing Oak's clothes next to his on the drying rack.
Returning to Oak's side a few minutes later, he carried his alchemy kit and a handful of the rations he had scavenged from his and Oak's bags, as well as two mugs. He set to brewing something [ohhh mushroom coffee hot chocolate like the fancy people make maybe], opting to use a [hotplate] rather than try to make it over the fire. The cooking pot that was left here was far too big for the ingredients he had, so Emim had taken to just using what he usually carried with him.
He hoped that the physical warmth of what he was making would help warm the halfling up, along with some of the components he was working with. Dried [BLAH BLAH] mushroom powder from the Underdeep was common in some of the colder villages in warmth draughts. But it tended to have a bit of a medicinal flavor to it, especially to those not familiar with it. Emim glanced to his side, where Oak lay. Oak, who was notorious for having a bit of a sweet tooth. Getting him to drink this straight when he woke back up would be like [underdark specific metaphor?]. And so Emim had taken to digging through Oak's bag in addition to his own, until he found what he was hoping for: a disc covered in waxed paper. Unfolding it, Emim was glad to see that it was exactly what he thought it might be--a solid round of chocolate and sugar, meant for melting into a sweet beverage. It looked like Oak hadn't even gotten to this one yet. Emim wasn't familiar with the proportions of it, so with his best judgement, he snapped the disc in half, and then in half a second time before adding the quarter chunk to his pot. If it needed more, he could add it later anyways.
Adjusting the concoction kept him busy. Mostly busy. After a few minutes, his eyes drifted over to the halfling’s immobile form once again. A puddle was forming beneath Oak’s head--his hair was still sopping wet. Emim frowned at the realization, before moving back within arm’s length of the halfling. It wouldn’t be weird to undo Oak’s hair. It wasn’t going to dry at all like it was, and there was no way it would be warm any time soon.
They were close enough for him to do this, right? Emim’s hand paused just a moment before he touched it. What if they weren’t? Oak hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about his scars. Did the others know? What if he was the only one that didn’t know?
He glanced back to the knife left to the side of the hot plate. Maybe it was for the best if he just cut off Oak’s hair. It would dry faster that way. And he would be able to see the injury on the back of his head a lot easier.
But Oak loved his hair. And in a heartbeat, Oak would take the time to dry Emim’s hair had their situations been reversed. Oak wouldn’t even think twice about doing it.
Shakily, Emim ran the blade through the piece of leather cording that held Oak’s braid together. He could fix that later too. The tip of Oak’s braid was cold and damp under Emim’s fingertips. He swallowed, before allowing his hands to continue their job. Emim squeezed out Oak’s braid first, carefully wringing as much liquid from it as he could. He then began taking Oak’s braid out, loosening a few plaits at a time before running his fingers through whatever was loose in an effort to detangle it.
The whole process took less time than Emim realized it would, and before he knew it, Oak’s hair was splayed out across the wooden floor. He went over it again, section by section with a spare blanket, working to get as much of the moisture out as he could. When he was finished, Emim sat back to admire his handiwork, before returning to the concoction that sat, now bubbling, atop his hotplate.
Carefully, Emim poured himself a portion of it in one of the mugs. Oak’s would be ready for him if--he shook the thought from his head--when he woke up. If he poured it now, it might get cold before then. He glanced back over at the halfling, still unmoving. A bruise was forming on the bottom of Oak’s jaw--had he caught his chin on the corner of the ice before he went in?
He couldn’t just keep looking over at Oak like this. It wasn’t going to help. Emim picked himself off of the floor and set to reconfiguring one of his mechanisms. If it could match and repair metals in small quantities, perhaps it could do the same with fabrics? He pulled out his tool kit, claiming the table as his own.
[mending] was easy to find, always kept closely on hand for when it was needed. It took the shape of a small metal disc when not in use, but when active it would unfurl spider-like appendages so it could better follow the entirety of the repair it needed to make.
He flipped it over so it lay belly-up on the table. It held a compartment for filament in its [belly], something Emim would switch out when it was needed, matching materials when he could. If he couldn’t, it was easy enough to find something similar and transmute it to what was necessary. Or to create an alloy that would work.
But fabric was something that wasn’t in Emim’s wheelhouse. He had spent many an hour watching Goliad work her magic though, so he had a good idea as to how it would work. And what was thread, really, if not just a weaker, thinner version of a wire. He changed the tolerance of [mending’s] filament extruder, and temporarily disabled the heating elements within its body. Fabrics tended to be flammable, after all. He just needed to figure out how to replicate the materials Oak’s clothes were made out of, and then he would be all set to test it out.
Oak’s overshirt was nearby, so Emim picked it up first, looking at the slices he had cut into it. The edges has barely started to fray, but he could see the individual threads on the edges of the cuts. Running his fingers over them, he started to think--the edges would probably have to be flipped over in some way to prevent them from continuing to fray, but wouldn’t that just shorten them? How short could the sleeves even get without it looking weird? Could he just take some of the string from the shirt and use that? He continued to fiddle with [Mending’s] compartment, beginning to construct a small post that thread could be wound around.
Just as Emim began to attach it to [mending’s ] body, the door to the cabin slowly began to open. Chantrelle’s familiar whirs filled the small room as she entered. Emim clattered from his chair with purpose--Chantrelle was immediately making her way towards her good friend Oak. Chantrelle, made of metal, who had been out in the cold this entire time.
He intercepted her quickly, forcing a smile across his worried features. “Chantrelle, sweet thing, we can’t play with Oak now. He’s…” Emim glanced back over at his friend, still unmoving where he lay, “still sleeping, and we musn’t wake him yet. Let’s come over here near the hearth.”
He moved with her, guiding her as one would a cat, towards the warmth of the fire. Chantrelle voiced her disappointment at first, pouting, but was quickly diverted by the discarded articles of clothing that seemed exactly the right size for her to wear.
And thus, Emim began his unintentional game of keep away with Chantrelle as her small hands reached for anything close enough. Boots first, which Emim had to snatch away with haste--he didn’t think Oak had a second pair, much less a second pair with him. And he would most certainly need them when they continued their journey.
Would they even be in any state to continue? Emim’s concentration lapsed, and Chanterelle won Oak’s poncho, pulling it down over her own cloak before giving a victory song and twirling around, enjoying the heavy way that the still-wet fabric moved. Emim groaned, and moved to chase her down.
But then he heard the sound of fabric moving. Emim gave up on chasing Chanterelle in an instant, turning instead to see Oak trying to pull his arm out from under the blanket. The halfling’s face scrunched up as he whined, weakly trying to wriggle out from beneath the blanket. His eyes cracked slightly as he continued his losing battle with the piece of fabric.
Emim came to his rescue, freeing Oak’s arms from their seemingly eternal prison. However, when Oak tried to throw the blanket completely from himself, Emim stepped in to stop him, which made Oak protest.
“-m too warm…” he complained, still fighting weakly to throw the blanket off of himself. Emim frowned, bringing the back of his hand to Oak’s forehead. Oak hissed at the contact, trying to pull away.
Emim pulled his hand back in turn. “Oak, you’re freezing.” Emim countered, concern making itself visible on his face. The frown on Oak’s face only worked itself deeper as he tried to turn over onto his side.
last updated: 3/4