[ Nebrinel is just getting to her room to recover! Fyril is waiting to lend moral support, and will no doubt ogle her. Let's go! XD ] * Nebrinel walks into the room, wearing a black cloak and carrying most of her gear in her arms. She's gained some serious height and her hair is basically almost down to her feet. She's an elf in her prime. (We can do them up in odango and dress her in a fuku.) (There's a scary thought.) * Nebrinel winces as she steps in the room, and the door closes behind her. "Ow, ow ow. Damn." (No.) (She sound different, too?) (Her voice is different. About a half-octave lower.) * Fyril blinks at the book he was reading, then slowly looks up. He blinks a few more times incredulously. ... Nebrinel? * Nebrinel smiles, and nods. "Yeah. Quite a change, isn't it?" She looks for somewhere to dump her stuff, and does so quickly. Before rubbing her armrs. * Fyril looks up at her from his seat, opens his mouth, closes it again, and stops. Then he says, "Did it hurt?" * Nebrinel chuckles faintly, and says, "A lot, yes. Not like a battle or such. More like I'd been fighting for a week, and then hit over the head." * Fyril nods a couple of times quietly. He shifts a bit in his seat, then essays, "The Lady must be as great as they say." * Nebrinel frowns slightly, but lets it slide off her face. Today's a day of triumph, after all, even if she has to share it with Xiv. * Nebrinel says, "It was certaintly something, to be sure." She looks about for a mirror, and whistles. "Well, well. If only I had real clothes." * Fyril looks her over with a numb look on his face from his seat. "Yeah. She could give you some clothes. She must have some to spare." He looks off to the side of the room. "Was it really that big?" * Nebrinel chuckles. "I wouldn't want her clothing anyway. I need to re-adapt my own, remember? The magic item?" She chuckles. "But... it was amazing. Truly a feat of magic." * Fyril nods at the wall. "Still, getting some as a stopgap would help. Magic item or not." He runs a hand up through his hair quickly. * Nebrinel mms softly, and turns to Fyril. And the fact that he's not looking at her. "What's wrong?" * Fyril looks back very quickly, and forces a smile. Pretty good one, in fact. "Nothing. Missing something big like that, it's a loss." * Nebrinel nods. "It is... but I was out for all of it you could have seen. But..." she shakes her head, and smiles. "How do I look?" * Fyril looks up at her without blinking. "Bigger. And your hair... it must be at least seven feet long." * Nebrinel can't help but laugh a little, lightly. "Well... that was partially the idea. Although the hair needs to go." * Fyril cocks his head. "Why?" * Nebrinel hrms. "Well... it can't be free-hanging like that." She spins, to demonstrate, and a veritable whirl of hair twists around her. She also almost falls over. * Nebrinel wobbles a little as she stops spinning. "Maybe that wasn't the best idea," she side-comments, before saying, "So either I have to tie it up in a complex manner, or deal with an absolute mess of hair. But I suppose that's not the first priority." * Nebrinel grins faintly. "Although if you don't belive me, we can wash this hair and see how long it takes to dry." * Fyril nods quietly, and switches to a cute smile. "It's your hair. Ties are annoying. But you'd look silly with hair like mine." He spikes his hair again, very quickly. * Nebrinel laughs. " "I think you are right. But it works well for you." * Fyril blushes very slightly, and looks away again. "So what's the first priority?" * Nebrinel chuckles, and taps Fyril on the nose. "Clothing. I refuse to walk around in this cloak forever." I suppose recovery truly comes first... but I don't feel too tired. * Fyril presses himself off the bed very quickly. "You stay. If it hurt, you can rest. I'll go find something." * Nebrinel says curiously, "Find what?" She doesn't hesitate to sit on the bed, though, letting out a small groan now that she doesn't have to stand on those legs. Ow. * Fyril looks quickly back at her. "You wanted clothes, right? If I hunt around, I'm sure I can find something fitting." * Nebrinel shakes her head. "No... it's alright. No need, really." She gestures at her pile of junk. "Could you hand me my wrap, and the extra cloth?." * Fyril looks away as he's nodding, and walks off to gather them up from around the room. Then he moves back and puts them on the bed next to her. * Nebrinel says, "Thanks," and picks them up. Right before she almost visibly wobbles, bringing her hand to her head. "Oh, that was a very bad idea." (er, visibly wobbles, even.) * Fyril blinks, watching the cloth. "What did you do?" * Nebrinel says, "Just tried to do some magic casually. I didn't realize how tired I really was." She puts the cloth back down, and sighs. * Fyril nods quickly again. "Probably have to adjust." * Nebrinel nods. "It... yes. A lot of adjusting." She rubs her hands together, and smiles weakly. * Fyril looks back at her on the bed, then realizes he's looking straight ahead, into her face. He blinks hard. "Magic is probably a hard thing for a whole new body." * Nebrinel sighs a little more noisily, and winces. "I guess so. Maybe it's just a matter of how I do it." She looks forward into Fyril's face, and smiles softly. * Fyril bites his lip softly at the top, then lets go and says, "You're adaptable. You'll find the right way to do it." * Nebrinel nods. "You're very right, I believe." She looks down at her hands, and back up. "It's just more of a shock than I thought. Hundreds of years... all at once." She smiles faintly, "How will anyone recognize me?" * Fyril nods very quickly, and looks off over her shoulder. "You just have to reintroduce yourself." * Nebrinel smiles faintly again. "Something sneaking up on me?" * Fyril smiles, with a very slight hint of rue. "That's a silly question. I can't see anything behind you." * Nebrinel responds, "You sure? You're looking awfully hard." She then rubs her face with her hands briefly. * Fyril flicks his eyes back down to her face. "Nah." He flicks off and back again. "Did it hurt your face, too?" * Nebrinel shakes her head. "It... hurts everyhwere. I don't know it hurt it, though. It's more muscle pain than real pain." She chuckles. "It is difficult to explain what really happened." * Fyril nods quickly again. "Guess I had to see it." * Nebrinel shakes her head again, then smirks. "I don't think that'd help. Would have been one hell of a show. I wasn't wearing anything." * Fyril blushes very slightly again. "Makes sense. Otherwise you might have ripped something." * Nebrinel chuckles. "That was our concern." She brings her right hand up to Fyril's face, and mms softly. * Fyril blushes a bit harder, closes his eyes, and bites his lip softly. * Nebrinel looks at Fyril with a little concern, not that he could see it with his eyes closed~. "Fyril?" * Fyril keeps his eyes closed, but lets go of his lip to reply quietly. "Yeah?" * Nebrinel brings a finger up to brush near his eyes. "Is there something... wrong?" * Fyril hesitates for just a little moment before shaking his head resolutely. He feels her finger brushing back and forth on his face as he does so, his eyes still closed, and he shivers. * Nebrinel frowns, and say softly, "Then why are your eyes closed?" * Fyril shrugs, and opens his eyes a quarter of the way. And shivers again. * Nebrinel feels the tremors through her hand, and says, "Fyril. What is wrong?" * Fyril opens his eyes the rest of the way, and then blinks as if to clear his eyes. "I..." He stops, then closes his mouth, and smoothly moves away. "I should get you some food. You'd rest better with some food." He smiles cutely. "Haven't even tried doing anything with the food here yet." * Nebrinel 's hand falls down onto her lap, weakly, for her. "I could use some food, yes." * Fyril heads over to the door, and rests his hand on the doorknob before looking half back over his shoulder. "Oh, right! You're the one who's hurt. You should tell me what you want to have." * Nebrinel says almost brightly, "Well, Fyril. I..." She trails off, then sighs. "Just tell me what is wrong, alright?" * Fyril twists the doorknob, and starts to open the door, then moves it back into place again. He looks down at his hand on the doorknob. Older... I knew you were so much older, but now you really are. And... what can I do for you? It... I ignored it before, but... * Nebrinel looks stunned. But now... and everyone will know, and I can't help anything. I can't change, or fix it, or hide. I can't. * Fyril smiles sadly. "I can't steal the years." He looks at her hopefully, then looks off again. * Nebrinel says, "Fyril... do you really think that matters to me? Your age? Or that now that I look my age... what? I'll look for someone else?" * Fyril shrugs, and gestures downwards. "I'm even small for my age. You... 450 years, more... what? What can I offer from here?" His smile turns rueful. "You were bigger than me, older than me, even before." * Nebrinel says matter of factly, "I'm 576." Her tone becomes more serious. "Fyril, I spent years with humans, in the human lands. They lived shorter than your life now, yet taught me many things. I'm finding age is the worst thing to look for. And size? Is size what makes you what you are?" * Fyril shakes his head, and looks around the floor of the room for something not there. He flexes his hand. "It did. Size is why I'm a mage, a thief, not a swordsman, a warrior." * Nebrinel shakes her head. "But it's not what made you a superb thief. You did that yourself." * Nebrinel grins. "Or a good chef." * Fyril puffs his cheeks out for a bit. "That was my family. Calyniel's probably as good as me. And... you, everyone will think, they're so far apart in age, and we are...is that right?" * Nebrinel shrugs. "I don't know. Was it right when we looked the same age? When is it right, Fyril?" Nebrinel smiles weakly. "Was it right of me to be with you when I was so much older, even if I looked young? Knowing that you might grow old, and I stay the same?" * Fyril looks down at the floor, and runs a hand through his hair, then back the other way lightly. His voice comes from off to her side, near her ear. "It... it felt more right. I don't know. I... it's not all that different, maybe..." * Nebrinel smiles faintly. "It's not all that different at all. And as to whether you have anything to offer me..." she looks like she strains, as her voice comes from in front of Fyril. "I could uus a hearty meat and vegetbles meal." * Nebrinel waves her hand weakly. "And besides, I might not be here right now if not for you. I think that says a lot." She's looking more and more tired by the second. * Fyril looks up at her, blinking at her face. His voice comes from the same distance, the opposite side of her head. "You... you should rest. For now." * Nebrinel nods faintly. "I agree. I... wake me when the food is ready?" * Fyril smiles softly, with a little insolence in there. "I'll wake you when you look like you're ready to be woken." * Nebrinel says weakly, with an equally weak smile, "Far be it from me to argue." She falls sideways on the bed in an almost careless manner, and is out like a light. * Fyril hesitates, steps to the bed, tosses the blanket over her without touching her, and walks out. [ SESSION END! Can I sleep now? ;.; ]