Communications

( Call to Loras )


---


( Call to Dani )

>>This is obligatory text of the day #3, checking in to say I'm fine.
>>No more nightmares. No swords through the chest.
>>But something weird happened.

Very early Tuesday morning, after Renly has woken from his nightmare. Ragged sobs tear through the stillness of his bedroom as he grasps at his tshirt, clutching his hands tight against his chest. In the darkness, he could swear that the whole front of him was covered in wet, hot blood. He begins to shake -- he can still taste the coppery blood and bile in his mouth, oh gods, that horrible taste of death and betrayal -- and is violently ill as he leans over the side of his bed. He can hear the sound of his own sick splattering against the floor and it reminds him of the sound of blood splattering to the ground, and before he knows what he is doing he has grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Without thinking about the horrific time of night, he's selected Loras Tyrell's name from his contact list. He waits for the man to pick up, his fist pressed against his mouth in a poor attempt to stifle his ragged sobs.

Ring, ring.

[PM to Loras]

I have the money that we probably should have waited for that night. Lozano bought my explanation, so let's just move on from this, shall we? The money is yours to decide how to spend. I don't care if you shred it, frankly.

[PM to Kitty]

You and I, we need to talk.

[Loras]

I have a problem. Actually, I have a few problems going on right now, but this one takes precedence.

Upon penalty of harm to someone I care about, Yes, I actually care about some people I need to make an appearance at a fight tournament. And by a appearance, I mean my name's on the betting papers. This is a very precarious position that I'm in. I would appreciate some advice.

Actually, I'd like you to come there with me.


A few hours later, Obi convinced himself he ought to let Kitty know as well.

[Kitty]
( ... )

( Obi-Wan was getting nowhere, fast. )

But he shaved the beard. Theoretically, to prove a point. It didn't help much.


[Private to Loras Tyrell]

I'm sure I gave you the opposite impression the other day, but recent events have knocked some sense into me, and I'd like to continue training with you... partially because I have no alternatives, but mostly because you've proven you won't tolerate any of my shit.

I promise I'll keep about fifty percent of my snarky comments to myself. That's the best I can do.

Although you also have to promise me you'll keep your clothing on.