#ejlart

He wakes up feeling cold. He is lying on something unforgivably stiff, though his head is propped up on a straw-stuffed pillow. He opens his eyes, feeling the brief tug of fabric over his left one. It is something he is still getting used to.

“Don’t get up,” Ejlart says without looking at him, placid as ever. He is attending to something off to the side.

Thancred glances down at himself and sees his armour removed and his jacket carefully opened. There is a bandage wrapped taut around his middle, freshly applied.

“The chirurgeons told me that you were practically crawling around.” Ejlart half turns, and now Thancred can see what he is holding—a small injection needle. “They had to spell you to sleep so you would stop aggravating your injuries.”

Thancred winces, shifting to see how much he can move. His wounds are in a much better state than he remembers; either the chirurgeons or Ejlart have patched him up well. “And I am remunerated with your care in consequence? You could have just asked me to dinner if you wanted to undress me.”

Ejlart looks at him flatly, one of his ears flicking back in irritation. His spectacles are new, more refined than the simple round lenses he had bought after Ultima’s fall. Considering the clean cut of his outfit, Thancred wonders if they were a custom order.

“Stay still,” he says instead of participating in the joys of banter, and sinks the needle into his arm.

The relief is almost instantaneous. Thancred sighs, relaxing into the cot. He hears the clink of Ejlart putting the needle away, and then a light chitter.

“No,” says Ejlart, his accent lifting the word. Thancred glances over and sees his fairy tugging fruitlessly at the needle, wings batting. He sighs and she vanishes, as if dismissed by the sound.

Noticing Thancred’s curious gaze, Ejlart explains, “She has been interested in recreational drug use lately.”

Thancred does not know what to say to that, so he does not say anything. A moment later Ejlart comments, in that same calm, flat tone he always uses when he is attending to someone’s injuries, “Your eye is damaged but should heal to its full capacity. Keep the bandana on as long as it is sensitive to light. Tell me if anything changes.”

He feels a reaction to that, an immediate indignant kickback of that is private and I was unconscious and I can take care of myself. But he suspects the Warrior of Light’s implacable nature will not be shifted by his protestations. Instead he keeps his mouth shut and nods. Ejlart nods back in appreciation; the one thing they both respect about the other is their pragmatism.

The fairy flickers into existence again, darting about and chittering. Ejlart’s gaze moves to her, and after a beat, he says, “Come. It is time to eat, and Lily wants goblin cheese.”

hello i am not dead

i made ejlart out of the idea of "wouldn't it be funny if erenville's ex bf from an amicable breakup due to long distance just showed up and happened to be the fucking warrior of light" sooooo if there's msq content with him... i might just do a write or two next summer who knows 👀

Ejlart's desk area! It's messy because he's so busy juggling other people's problems and his fairy is a minion of chaos :)